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Nil Carborundum Illegitimi
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,921
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,921
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Cupid's Darts Do Not Feel
It was at his third week at Hogwarts when he saw her. She was with her friends, walking down the corridor towards him. Arwarn felt himself blush and then had the bad luck to drop everything onto the stone tiled floor. He fell to his knees, scrabbling at his things, and a voice tinged with a Welsh accent said, "are you all right, little boy, or do you need help?"
Arwarn looked up into her dark eyes and felt himself flush crimson. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out other than a tortured squeak. The girl, or was she a woman? smiled a slightly patronising smile as she stood in her blood-red gown, her hands on her hips, and her black and flame hair flowing over her pale throat and collarbones. She whispered something to the green-eyed, redheaded girl, who was holding hands with the tall, skinny boy with black hair and glasses, and they both laughed. The other boy, who was dark and handsome, smiled in apology for the blunt rudeness of the red robed girl as they moved down the corridor. She turned back to him, her eyes glittering, and waved sarcastically at him. "Goodbye, little child, goodbye."
"Aurella!" chorused the other three in unison, and they entered Professor Binn's classroom.
"Aurella," he whispered. "Aurella." Grabbing the rest of his textbooks, he threw them untidily into his bag, and ran to the library.
There he drew the first picture. glorious hair poured like a bloodspattered waterfall while her eyes looked at him coolly and contemptuously. The undulations of her body writhed under his quill as he committed his memories to paper as he had done with the lithographs of his mother and his other life.
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Arwarn found himself becoming more and more isolated as he passed through his first year at Hogwarts. After the debacle involving Malfoy and the Transfiguration lesson he was being taught on an individual basis not just by Professor McGonagall, but by most of the staff. He rarely joined the Slytherin lessons, and in those he was forced to endure he managed to avoid Malfoy and his cronies. They still made his life a living hell out of lessons if he was there, though.
It was in Quidditch lessons that the worst abuse came. He had never had cause to fly a broomstick. Elves rode horses, not jumped up sticks with a few more sticks tied to the end. The first time he had flown one, Arwarn had spent most of his time with his eyes shut and therefore crashed the ancient Shooting Star into a nearby hedge. Madam Hooch was not happy, and she told him so.
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In the dormitory that night, Arwarn found himself jeered and mocked by all. Malfoy, who of course had turned out to be a brilliant flyer, had told everyone, with evident relish, about his crash. Even boys who weren't in his dorm surrounded him, enjoying the sport, watching the prey as it became more and more distressed.
He closed his eyes and curled into a foetal position on his stomach, trying to muffle the horrible things they were saying. Through the pillow he heard Malfoy's drawl.
"Look at it! Isn't it disgusting! I don't know how they let it in here, being like that. It is a mere animal! They opted to stay classified as beasts, didn't they?" The rest of the boys nodded and agreed, eyes gleaming with what was to come. Arwarn pretended to be asleep, his face hidden by the pillow, while greenish tears of hatred, anger and self-loathing soaked its case.
"If I was Dumbledore I would have had it destroyed like you do a rabid animal. These things are too dangerous to have running around, being a nuisance to us humans. It needs to be put down for it's own sake!" Malfoy grinned as the venomous words slipped from his lips and into the ears of both spectators and his victim. "My father will have something to say when he comes to visit at half-term; he has the ear of the Minister of Magic!"
Never one to let a good line slip past, even when sobbing, Arwarn grabbed his glasses. He sat up, white face streaked with tears, and hissed, "well, why doesn't he give it back. I bet the Minister is deaf without it!"
"Oh, look! It's answering back. I'll have to punish it."
Arwarn slid out of bed. He had finally reached explosion point. In his chest he could sense the tingle that occurred when he was about to throw firebolts around, but he managed to subdue the flames of rage. "Go on then, Malfoy. Punish me. Show all your friends how big and clever you are. Smash my teeth in. Break my glasses and black my eyes. Cut my mouth open and bruise my skin. Go on Malfoy, I dare you."
He looked at him through his dark eyelashes, over the top of his glasses. His head was lowered, his voice soft and almost friendly, but the most threatening thing many of Malfoy's friends had heard.
"You aren't even worth my sullying my skin by touching your flesh!" spat Malfoy, fists clenching and unclenching as he stared into the smoked glass lenses. "And why don't you take of those glasses for once!"
"As you wish," murmured Arwarn, and his slim hand gently removed the glasses from his nose. Everyone, except Malfoy stepped back, gasping with horror. He had to give Mortis grudging respect thatthat. The only two humans who had never reacted about the thing with his eyes were Dumbledore and this pale bully in front of him.
Normal eyes have a white, an iris and a pupil. They are sometimes bloodshot, sometimes yellow, but always contain the three things that make an eye the organ it is. Arwarn Sandinista's eyes were different. They contained neither pupil nor white or iris. The parts of his eyeball that showed between his eyelids were vivid emerald green.
He grinned, and whispered once more, thinking Malfoy wouldn't have the balls to do it. "Come of Malfoy; hurt me."
So Malfoy, unfortunately for Arwarn, did.
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Knocking on Professor Dumbledore's study door, Arwarn waited for the old wizard to call before he entered. Timidly opening the oak bound door, he entered into the room.
"Good morning, Professor...." Here he trailed off. Sitting in an elaborately carved chair, facing the desk but looking at him in an odd manner, sat a girl with hair of fire and smoke and a dress of blood. She smiled crookedly at him. He just stared, utterly transfixed, back at her.
"I hope you do not mind, Arwarn, but Aurella has the same problem with premature ejaculation as you do," said Dumbledore, a kindly look on his white bearded face. Arwarn' eyes grew wider as he digested this comment while Aurella sniggered.
"In a magic way, I mean," continued Dumbledore, quite unabashed. "She, like you, is a raw magic user. If it wouldn't go to your heads I would say you are the most powerful witch and wizard in the school, so I won't." Here he paused, sizing both Aurella and Arwarn up. "You are not even a witch or wizard in the broadest sense. I prefer to call you old magic users sorcerers for easy reference." Dumbledore twinkled at them roguishly, a smile flitting across his features.
"The old magic comes from far back into the mists of time; or, as we wizards say, the Iron Age Celts. It derives partly from Druidic powers, but has a rich folklore, most of which is true, that accompanies it. The magic I and every other person in this school uses derives from Merlin and his ancestors. It is divided into four sectors; magic of the fire, the earth, the air and the water. Those who have all of these gifts are lucky indeed, but very few."
"Your magic, Arwarn, is far more ancient. The Elves have inhabited these isles for many thousands of years, and they will continue past when humans are wiped out. This is even more dangerous and potent than the Celtic tradition as all of its power derives from the Fey, who are all natural magic users. You have no equivalent of Muggles in the Summer Lands."
They listened as Dumbledore continued his lecture on the origins and powers of fey and raw magic. Arwarn found it rather interesting but Aurella sat back, crossed her ankles, and seemed to have heard this all before. He described the lengths to which their powers could go; weather control, living death, the total taking over of a mind or body. The older wizard spoke for the entire lesson, and as the bell for class change sounded in the endless Hogwarts corridors, shooed them out. Before they left, however, he seemed to change his mind.
"Come here for a moment, you two." They stepped back into the room, wondering what had happened to merit their return. "Listen," he said seriously. "I must warn both of you that you are going to find Hogwarts very hard work to attend. You are different, and that will tell against you." As he peered at them Dumbledore saw the swollen skin around his mouth and nose showed that the boy had already encountered this trouble already. He mentally reminded himself to have the Slytherin house master keep an eye out for him. "I am not saying this to scare you, but it is a fact you will have to face, and have probably experienced already. However, I must stress this. I would never have let you enter this school if I didn't have the greatest belief in your abilities. You are both talented individuals, and even if the whole school seems against you, I will always be your supporter and your friend. Please remember this; I will help you, I promise."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Professor Dumbledore said there was another raw magic user in the school, but I would never have guessed it was you," said Aurella.
As always, Arwarn blushed. "I thought I was the only one," he stammered.
"He is right about one thing, is Dumbledore. We are the odd ones out, aren't we? I am because everyone thinks I'm a squib even though I could blow up the school if I wanted to, and you because you are part Elfish, and could get your people to absolutely turn your enemies to mincemeat."
"You have friends...," said Arwarn, voice hoarse with sadness. He had no one to turn to, and the proximity of this fiery tempered girl made him want to pour out his problems.
"Lily and James, you mean? They are more acquaintances rather than friends. Sirius is too. Remus Lupin is the closest that I have to a friend here. He's as different as you and me."
"Why's that?" Arwarn had no friends to gossip with, so had not heard the rumours about Lupin.
"Well.... he has a sort of embarrassing dysfunction on the night of a full moon."
"He's a werewolf!" shrieked Arwarn, causing a passing group of Hufflepuffs to frown, try and eavesdrop, then remembering who the speaker was, hurry off.
"Shhh! Not so loud, Elf boy! Yes, he is, okay. And don't make anything of it, because he feels awful enough about it as it is!"
The boy's mind fell back to seeing Aurella with a sad, prematurely greying young man in the dining hall. Even though Arwarn was only half Elven, he had noticed something that humans could not.
"Of course," he muttered, "the smell was wrong."
Arwarn looked up into her dark eyes and felt himself flush crimson. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out other than a tortured squeak. The girl, or was she a woman? smiled a slightly patronising smile as she stood in her blood-red gown, her hands on her hips, and her black and flame hair flowing over her pale throat and collarbones. She whispered something to the green-eyed, redheaded girl, who was holding hands with the tall, skinny boy with black hair and glasses, and they both laughed. The other boy, who was dark and handsome, smiled in apology for the blunt rudeness of the red robed girl as they moved down the corridor. She turned back to him, her eyes glittering, and waved sarcastically at him. "Goodbye, little child, goodbye."
"Aurella!" chorused the other three in unison, and they entered Professor Binn's classroom.
"Aurella," he whispered. "Aurella." Grabbing the rest of his textbooks, he threw them untidily into his bag, and ran to the library.
There he drew the first picture. glorious hair poured like a bloodspattered waterfall while her eyes looked at him coolly and contemptuously. The undulations of her body writhed under his quill as he committed his memories to paper as he had done with the lithographs of his mother and his other life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwarn found himself becoming more and more isolated as he passed through his first year at Hogwarts. After the debacle involving Malfoy and the Transfiguration lesson he was being taught on an individual basis not just by Professor McGonagall, but by most of the staff. He rarely joined the Slytherin lessons, and in those he was forced to endure he managed to avoid Malfoy and his cronies. They still made his life a living hell out of lessons if he was there, though.
It was in Quidditch lessons that the worst abuse came. He had never had cause to fly a broomstick. Elves rode horses, not jumped up sticks with a few more sticks tied to the end. The first time he had flown one, Arwarn had spent most of his time with his eyes shut and therefore crashed the ancient Shooting Star into a nearby hedge. Madam Hooch was not happy, and she told him so.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the dormitory that night, Arwarn found himself jeered and mocked by all. Malfoy, who of course had turned out to be a brilliant flyer, had told everyone, with evident relish, about his crash. Even boys who weren't in his dorm surrounded him, enjoying the sport, watching the prey as it became more and more distressed.
He closed his eyes and curled into a foetal position on his stomach, trying to muffle the horrible things they were saying. Through the pillow he heard Malfoy's drawl.
"Look at it! Isn't it disgusting! I don't know how they let it in here, being like that. It is a mere animal! They opted to stay classified as beasts, didn't they?" The rest of the boys nodded and agreed, eyes gleaming with what was to come. Arwarn pretended to be asleep, his face hidden by the pillow, while greenish tears of hatred, anger and self-loathing soaked its case.
"If I was Dumbledore I would have had it destroyed like you do a rabid animal. These things are too dangerous to have running around, being a nuisance to us humans. It needs to be put down for it's own sake!" Malfoy grinned as the venomous words slipped from his lips and into the ears of both spectators and his victim. "My father will have something to say when he comes to visit at half-term; he has the ear of the Minister of Magic!"
Never one to let a good line slip past, even when sobbing, Arwarn grabbed his glasses. He sat up, white face streaked with tears, and hissed, "well, why doesn't he give it back. I bet the Minister is deaf without it!"
"Oh, look! It's answering back. I'll have to punish it."
Arwarn slid out of bed. He had finally reached explosion point. In his chest he could sense the tingle that occurred when he was about to throw firebolts around, but he managed to subdue the flames of rage. "Go on then, Malfoy. Punish me. Show all your friends how big and clever you are. Smash my teeth in. Break my glasses and black my eyes. Cut my mouth open and bruise my skin. Go on Malfoy, I dare you."
He looked at him through his dark eyelashes, over the top of his glasses. His head was lowered, his voice soft and almost friendly, but the most threatening thing many of Malfoy's friends had heard.
"You aren't even worth my sullying my skin by touching your flesh!" spat Malfoy, fists clenching and unclenching as he stared into the smoked glass lenses. "And why don't you take of those glasses for once!"
"As you wish," murmured Arwarn, and his slim hand gently removed the glasses from his nose. Everyone, except Malfoy stepped back, gasping with horror. He had to give Mortis grudging respect thatthat. The only two humans who had never reacted about the thing with his eyes were Dumbledore and this pale bully in front of him.
Normal eyes have a white, an iris and a pupil. They are sometimes bloodshot, sometimes yellow, but always contain the three things that make an eye the organ it is. Arwarn Sandinista's eyes were different. They contained neither pupil nor white or iris. The parts of his eyeball that showed between his eyelids were vivid emerald green.
He grinned, and whispered once more, thinking Malfoy wouldn't have the balls to do it. "Come of Malfoy; hurt me."
So Malfoy, unfortunately for Arwarn, did.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Knocking on Professor Dumbledore's study door, Arwarn waited for the old wizard to call before he entered. Timidly opening the oak bound door, he entered into the room.
"Good morning, Professor...." Here he trailed off. Sitting in an elaborately carved chair, facing the desk but looking at him in an odd manner, sat a girl with hair of fire and smoke and a dress of blood. She smiled crookedly at him. He just stared, utterly transfixed, back at her.
"I hope you do not mind, Arwarn, but Aurella has the same problem with premature ejaculation as you do," said Dumbledore, a kindly look on his white bearded face. Arwarn' eyes grew wider as he digested this comment while Aurella sniggered.
"In a magic way, I mean," continued Dumbledore, quite unabashed. "She, like you, is a raw magic user. If it wouldn't go to your heads I would say you are the most powerful witch and wizard in the school, so I won't." Here he paused, sizing both Aurella and Arwarn up. "You are not even a witch or wizard in the broadest sense. I prefer to call you old magic users sorcerers for easy reference." Dumbledore twinkled at them roguishly, a smile flitting across his features.
"The old magic comes from far back into the mists of time; or, as we wizards say, the Iron Age Celts. It derives partly from Druidic powers, but has a rich folklore, most of which is true, that accompanies it. The magic I and every other person in this school uses derives from Merlin and his ancestors. It is divided into four sectors; magic of the fire, the earth, the air and the water. Those who have all of these gifts are lucky indeed, but very few."
"Your magic, Arwarn, is far more ancient. The Elves have inhabited these isles for many thousands of years, and they will continue past when humans are wiped out. This is even more dangerous and potent than the Celtic tradition as all of its power derives from the Fey, who are all natural magic users. You have no equivalent of Muggles in the Summer Lands."
They listened as Dumbledore continued his lecture on the origins and powers of fey and raw magic. Arwarn found it rather interesting but Aurella sat back, crossed her ankles, and seemed to have heard this all before. He described the lengths to which their powers could go; weather control, living death, the total taking over of a mind or body. The older wizard spoke for the entire lesson, and as the bell for class change sounded in the endless Hogwarts corridors, shooed them out. Before they left, however, he seemed to change his mind.
"Come here for a moment, you two." They stepped back into the room, wondering what had happened to merit their return. "Listen," he said seriously. "I must warn both of you that you are going to find Hogwarts very hard work to attend. You are different, and that will tell against you." As he peered at them Dumbledore saw the swollen skin around his mouth and nose showed that the boy had already encountered this trouble already. He mentally reminded himself to have the Slytherin house master keep an eye out for him. "I am not saying this to scare you, but it is a fact you will have to face, and have probably experienced already. However, I must stress this. I would never have let you enter this school if I didn't have the greatest belief in your abilities. You are both talented individuals, and even if the whole school seems against you, I will always be your supporter and your friend. Please remember this; I will help you, I promise."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Professor Dumbledore said there was another raw magic user in the school, but I would never have guessed it was you," said Aurella.
As always, Arwarn blushed. "I thought I was the only one," he stammered.
"He is right about one thing, is Dumbledore. We are the odd ones out, aren't we? I am because everyone thinks I'm a squib even though I could blow up the school if I wanted to, and you because you are part Elfish, and could get your people to absolutely turn your enemies to mincemeat."
"You have friends...," said Arwarn, voice hoarse with sadness. He had no one to turn to, and the proximity of this fiery tempered girl made him want to pour out his problems.
"Lily and James, you mean? They are more acquaintances rather than friends. Sirius is too. Remus Lupin is the closest that I have to a friend here. He's as different as you and me."
"Why's that?" Arwarn had no friends to gossip with, so had not heard the rumours about Lupin.
"Well.... he has a sort of embarrassing dysfunction on the night of a full moon."
"He's a werewolf!" shrieked Arwarn, causing a passing group of Hufflepuffs to frown, try and eavesdrop, then remembering who the speaker was, hurry off.
"Shhh! Not so loud, Elf boy! Yes, he is, okay. And don't make anything of it, because he feels awful enough about it as it is!"
The boy's mind fell back to seeing Aurella with a sad, prematurely greying young man in the dining hall. Even though Arwarn was only half Elven, he had noticed something that humans could not.
"Of course," he muttered, "the smell was wrong."