Fire & Ice: War Games

‘The difference between a moral man and a man of honor is that the latter regrets a discreditable act, even when it has worked and he has not been caught.’
H.L. Mencken (1880-1956), ‘Prejudices: FouSeriSeries,’ 1924

The first rays spread from the horizon, heralding a new day. Inside the castle walls, life slowly began to stir. While the human population rested within the warmth of their beds and cradled by sleep, the castle’s kitchen’s slowly awakened. The resident house elves started about their work, starting breakfast for five hundred students and staff members.

In the darken tower housing the House of Gryffindor, a candle flickered and illuminated a chamber. Auburn hair tumbled down the shoulders in disarray, a rumpled dressing robe hide the body within. Tired eyes stared, unseeing out the chamber window, fingers tapped listlessly on the desk next to a pile of parchments as the mind was haunted by images unseen. Sadness filtered into the heart replaced belatedly with despair. Alien feelings of longing, tenderness previously unknown, stirred.

Minerva McGonagall had been right, sleep avoided her in the morning hours. She grimaced slightly as a too chipper house elf arrived bearing a fresh cup of tea. It was common knowledge for those wishing to learn, that the deputy headmistress was anything but a morning person. Her students knew and the headmaster had already learned this years ago. Yet here she found herself, awake with the first rays. Not since her student days had Minerva McGonagall been up at this hour.

She briefly wondered what the boy would do, what would he say and how would she respond. Those thoughts were followed with questions of why; why did his trust, why did his opinions and why did she suddenly care why it mattered to her at all. If she was honest with herself, she would see that it wasn’t a sudden infatuation with the pale boy. The forbidden whispered in the same voice as the mysterious did. Objectively, one would see that Severus Snape was both of these and that the older witch had been drawn to the boy long before her sense of duty told her so.

Steam, curling, trickled from the amber liquid in the cup, fogging the window glass. Standing to wipe the glass, the cloth dropped forgotten te fle floor. A group of figures, clustered together, were slowly making their way to the gates of the castle. She watched as they reached the edges of the apparation barrier and disappeared. Frowning thoughtfully, McGonagall numbly collapsed back into her chair. The seductive tones of the tea entirely forgotten.




The Ministry of Magic was deserted when they arrived, only the dim light left on by the janitorial staff was their guide. They filed down the narrow hallway in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The news of Voldemort’s increasing popularity amongst ‘like minded’ wizards had dutifully reached their ears. His ambitious craving of immortality was only the latest topic of heated discussion. While they were not all aware of his latest scheme of achieving that goal, the early morning summons was cause for curious alarm.

Stopping in front of a rare portrait of the four founders, they carefully surveyed the deserted hallway. Satisfied with the examination, “thine own self be true.” The portrait clattered against the wall before creaking slowly open, revealing stone steps spiraling down into the fathomless darkness. A chorus of “lumos” echoed down into the abyss as they silently filed through the arched entrance. The portrait slowly swung close on a deserted hallway.

The sound of whispering material and breathing invaded the silence of the darkness. They journeyed twenty feet down the spiral staircase, twenty feet below the offices of the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. They paused at the bottom steps and faced the portrait of a young Merlin, beardless in his youth. “Morituri te salutamus.” The portrait swung unceremoniously open to reveal a spartan hallway. A feeling of ease swept over them as they started towards the end of the hallway.

A slight touch of a wand’s tip at the dead end of the hall and the wall shuddered as it transformed into a archway. A simple door stood between the group and their watcher. Turning the knob, they quietly walked inside. Once inside, they quickly scattered to the seats crowding the small office. “As I am sure that you are by now aware of the dark reverie that was held yesterday at Malfoy Manor. And I’m sure that by now you’re detective skills have managed to deduce that Voldemort has clutched upon a new idea for achieving the most ambitious path of denying Death and acquiring immortality.” He snickered as the room was filled with bemused laughter.

“In the past years, our spies within the Dark circle have been able to ‘accidently leak’ information into the hands of Dumbledore’s people. Unfortunately, Voldemort has managed to execute them as almost as fast as we place them.” Leaning back, “that is why you were approached in the initial place. The likely hood of an impressionable teenager, who’s views on the world don’t extend past ones own self and needs, turning against him are slim. With you ‘safely’ installed, Voldemort’s destruction is only a matter of time.” The prophecy of an unborn child was conveniently ignored.

“Voldemort’s scheme is what exactly?”

“Sorry, got off subject a mite. Thantos’ Elixir is what he is after.” Puzzled expressions on normally blank faces looked at him. “An obscure potion that has faded into legend. The drinker of such potion does not in essence die. Rather, upon mortal blow the drinker will in theory be changed into their infantile form.” Curious eyebrows raised, “they’ll be changed back into a baby.”

“Like phoenixes are reborn from their ashes.”


“Thought I saw smoke coming out of your ears, Lucky.”

“Not again with the Huffelpuff jokes, Howler.” Shadow drawled, “you said in ‘theory,’ Ripper.”

“The wizard Hashim, teacher of Merlin, is said to have fallen asleep on the Giants’ Causeway after a rather rowdy night of reverie following a Samhain celebration. According to legend and an entry of Merlin’s, Hashim woke to find himself within Thantos’ realm. As he was able to solve Thantos’ riddle,” he paused and held up a hand. “Don’t ask, I don’t know. I am only reciting what I’ve read in Merlin’s journal. Anyways, as a reward, Hashim was granted a choice; knowldge, wealth or immortality, Hashim choice. According to the journal entry, Hashim was very ambitious and greedy. He chose the elixir believing that in the end, he would be able to acquire all three. Needless to say he was killed before the chance to brew it arrived.”

A wave of his wand and a cup of tea appeared on his desk. “Eventually the elixir’s recipe fell into the hands of all four founders. Even Slytherin realized the dark possibilities that the elixir could produce. It was decided that the recipe be divided into fourths and were spelled into four objects prized most by their owners for safe keeping. Those four objects are what Voldemort’s searching for. The only short coming in the Founders’ plans is the clues.”

“Clues, Ripper?”

“Rowena Ravenclaw’s idea, one of her worst if you ask me.” Waving off the protests that he knew were coming from the two Ravenclaws present, “each founder hid their individual object long before they died and Slytherin left Hogwarts. Clues were left telling where they could be found.”

“What kind of objects are we talking about?”

“Oh, the usual. Gryffindor’s shield, Huffelpuff’s crystal ball, Ravenclaw’s quill and Slytherin’s scythe.”

“Oh, junk.”

“Ah, but to the founders’ they were priceless objects they valued in life.” The morning past quickly as they discussed the events of the previous day at length, analyzing the Dark Lord’s current agenda.

“Do you have your lists?” The material of their robes whispered as they reached into the folds for pieces of parchment to retrieve. “Good, good. Shadow, who do you believe is a possible ally?”

“Besides the known members of the Order?”

“Yes.”

“Remus Lupin, the werewolf. Sirius Black, the prick. James ‘Bloody’ Potter, Prince of Hogwarts. Argus Filch, the caretaker. The centaurs, without a doubt. Frank Longbottom, the dueler. Maybe Professor McGonagall.” As he spoke, Shadow ticked off the names on his fingers.

“McGonagall?” Soot asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow.

“She shows.....promise.” Shadow replied with a slight shrug.

“Sure its not something else she\'s showing promise in.” Howler chuckled elbowing Shadow in the ribs.

“Ew, she’s a Gryffindor! How can you suggest a thing like that?!”

“Why not Petter Pettigew? I know he’s a Gryffindor, but so is pretty much everyone you named, Shadow.”

“I don’t trust anyone who reminds me of furry, little snacks Horatio catches in the forest.” Shadow said daring anyone to comment on his owl’s name.

“Settle down, children. How’s you on the potential enemies list?”

“I’ll make this simple for you, Ripper. Assume everyone in Slytherin is, no matter as much as I hate to admit it. But one you should definitely watch is Evan Rosier, his trouble with a capital T.”

“Okay. What about you, Howler? How does Gryffindor House look?”




They dispparated at the edges of the school’s apparation barrier under the cover of the forest. An unspoken agreement passed between the group as they made their way towards the castle’s closet passage. Each was once more lost in individual thoughts, unwilling to risk exposure of their guarded secret, not that anyone would believe. Their watcher had been right in that aspect, who would seriously consider a threat in the form of teenagers after all? As the group reached the Slytherin dungeon, they separated and returned to their dormitories to prepare for the day’s classes. A silent nod passed through the group before they separated.

“You going to be all right, Shadow?” Soot asked glancing sideways at her companion.

“Yeah. You know me, Soot, I’ll bounce back after the full moon.” He replied with a shrug and turned to the portrait concealing the entrance to the Slytherin common room, “pure blood.” The portarit swung open, allowing them passage inside.

“Do you think we can find anything on the potion in the library?”

“Maybe in the Restricted Section, but I highly doubt it. Madam Pince hasn’t updated anything since she took over the library twenty years ago.”

“See you in a minute, Shadow.” Soot said over her shoulder as she jogged towards the girl’s dormitory.

“Yeah,” Shadow said before walking to his room. Easing open the door, he quietly slipped inside the dimly lit room. He snorted inwardly as he watched his roommates snore in the morning haze. Shadow smirked, knowing full well that Evan Rosier was wide awake under the pretense of sleeping. Collecting his books and supplies needed for the day, he leaned over the Slytherin. “Boo,” he smirked as he watched the boy jerk slightly before leaving the room and a startled Rosier.

As he walked back to the common room, Shadow’s thoughts returned to Ripper’s parting words. “This is a dangerous game we play, one mistake and we’re all dead.” Though the words were spoken as a soft, subtle warning as they walked through the office door, Shadow knew their meaning better then most.

Growing up in his father’s house, Shadow had quickly learned the art of subterfuge. It had been a simple matter of survival. The submergement into the Dark Arts was only another necessary step in his continued survival. As long as he performed well and learned his father’s lessons, he was able to avoid punishment. By the time he had received his letter to Hogwarts, his father’s punishments had began to dwell within the realm of sexual encounters.

Shadow shuddered as his cold exterior shattered beneath the memories of another life, one he had worked hard on forgetting as he forged a new one. His shoulder collided unceremoniously with the wall and he slumped to the ground stifling the sobs in his throat. Tears swam in his eyes as he fought against the assault of his mind. Quiet sobs shook his thin frame as his raven hair fell from behind his ears and curtained his face.

“Are you all right?”

Composing himself, Shadow hoped his voice was steadier and calmer then it sounded in his own ears. “Fine.” He rose on unsteady legs and smiled at her, “we’ll miss breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, “breakfast hasn’t started yet. You want to talk?”

Shadow shook his head, “no. Come on, I want to get up there before everyone else. You know how I hate crowds, Soot.” He pushed past the Slytherin witch and out into the specious common room, Soot followed shaking her head sadly.


In the seven years that they had known each other, Soot had never seen her friend lose his composure. On one hand, she could count the number of times that the boy had lost his temper and shown it. It was easy to forget that he was human, after all, even those who knew him well were often fooled by the mask he always wore. Seeing general emotion breaking through the one person who could be counted on to always be the dependable rock of support, the one person who guarded their emotions zealously, break unexpectedly caused Soot to reevaluate her own meager place in the scheme of life.

Something was bothering the Slytherin, he had admitted as much with the simple show of denying it. Soot knew, the more one pressured him, the more closed off from the world he would become. She would have to wait and let him approach her when he was ready. That was one of the reasons why the teachers would never be able to help him and why they wouldn’t be able to earn his trust, they wouldn’t listen to anyone when they were told about Shadow’s preference of independence.

As she walked along side the raven haired Slytherin, Soot studied him. She could see why the other houses shied away from those found in the serpent’s lair, Shadow was an example of what could be found there. Slytherins by nature were secretive and reclusive much like their house animal, thus making making themselves easy scapegoats for the rest of the wizarding world. While she understood their paranoia, it still upset Soot that her house was perceived as both the source and basis for their fears. She had given up a long time ago trying to tell them that not everyone was a dark wizard just because they were sorted into Slytherin House. No one had been interested to listen when she had tried to point out that the other houses were just as capable of producing them as well.

The only one who appeared to care about the Slytherins was their head of house, Soot smiled at the thought of the professor. Professor Taylor Lung was cold and calculating, the very essence of Slytherin, to the outside world. While the professor wasn’t any warmer with the students of his own house, they knew he cared for them. Genuinely cared for them. He did what he could and made sure that they understood, knew that he would fully support them. Many of the Slytherins’ parents were followers of the rising Dark Lord and many would be forced down that path. It was a luxurious comfort to know that at least one person cared what became of them.

The pair of Slytherins walked quietly into the deserted Great Hall and sat down at their house table. As soon as they were seated, steaming mounds of breakfast food filled the middle of the table in front of them. Soot glanced at her friend through lowered eyelids and sighed with fustartion. Like Shadow, she worried about what the future might bring. Unlike him however, Soot didn’t feel the unescapable burden that Shadow seemed to carry with him. Life had scarred them both in different ways, leaving them with the same critical view of the world around them. Sighing, Soot began to her breakfast in the companionable silence.





The day passed in a vague haze for them as the coming of the night loomed over them. An unspoken agreement was passed between three pairs of eyes, three minds held the same thoughts. With both James Potter and Sirius Black still confined to their respective cots in the Hospital Ward, Peter Pettigew was left alone to watch over the werewolf that night. Despite Filch’s temporary custody of the Gryffindor’s free time, they knew he would be out at the Shrieking Shack that night. While they were marginally confident in both Potter’s and Black’s ability to restrain the transformed Lupin, Pettigew was on the small size and wouldn’t stand a snowflake’s chance in Hell.

Shadow’s eyes met Howler’s across the Great Hall and he nodded as the sickly pale form walked out. The trio nonchalantly followed the auburn haired boy at a leisurely pace, turning toward’s the castle’s dungeons before the reached the Entrance Hall. “This is going to be so much fun, I can feel it in my bones.” Howler groaned to his companions and ignored the pair of Slytherins as they rolled their eyes at him.




The last shadows of the day stretched and merged into the growing night as the stars began to make their appearances. His pace quickened as he felt the pull of the curse upon him. Glancing up, he absently noted the presence of the stars in the darken sky. Unconsciously, he picked up the speed of his feet, the old fear of arriving too late at the Whomping Willow and thus roaming free in his Mr. Hyde form. The wolf was prowling already, straining to feel the freedom denied without the presence of the full moon.

The pull of the lunar magic consumed him as he reached the trunk of the willow. Jabbing at the knob of the tree, he held his breath as the passageway opened for him. Every time he was forced to venture out to his own hell, he feared the tree would deny him the sanctuary and security tah he required. He sighed as the passageway opened for him and slipped into the tunnel, nearly tearing off his clothes as the moon began to rise.

Tears spilled down his dirty, smudged face as his bones broke and reformed under the lunar pull. His teeth bit through the pad of his tongue, muffling his horrific screams. Blood pooled in his mouth, spilling from his clenched jaws and down the chin to his chest. He withered on the dusty floor, coating his sweating body in the gray powder. Coarse hair sprouted from his skin in stinging waves of growth, each felt as rough as porcupine quills until they dried. Sharp claws grew in short births as his fingers and toes shortened and molded closer together to form paws. The features of his face blurred as the flesh bubbled just below the surface, his skin stretched to accommodate the growing and hardening canine skull.




A brown blob scurried across the coo lawns towards the Whomping Willow, it’s tail bobbed and waived with it’s movements. Beady eyes glazed over as the blob of greasy brown fur froze, it’s ears twitching. A sudden instinctive fear surged through the brown blob as it raced for the protection of the tree. It shrieked as it was suddenly flattened, pinned against the ground beneath a smothering weight.

‘Having fun, Shadow?’

‘Definitely,’ Shadow said peering down at the scrawny bundle squirming beneath his paw. He smirked inwardly as his claws dug into the soft ground, preventing the small creature from escaping. ‘You, Howler?’

‘Oh yes. This is how I’ve wanted to spend my full moons all this bloody time.’ Howler drawled as he sat on his hunches next to Shadow, raking a paw across the grass absentmindedly. ‘Why you dragged me into this mess in the first place, I’ll never know.’

‘Ripper wanted to know why I was spending so much time in the Hospital Ward during the full moons fifth year and why I needed to take those silver boosters. What else was I going to tell him?’ They settled in to wait for the rise of a new day.




As the first rays of dawn crept onto the horizon, the wrenching cries of Lupin\'s transformation filled the silence.


A/N

Sorry it took so long to get out, but there was so many things I wanted to get said in this chapter and so little time to write it. After this chapter, we’re going to start picking up the pace so to speak.

Any ideas on who Shadow is?


Please R & R, author thanks you.


Morituri te salutamus. Latin to English is (We who are about to die salute you.)