Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bloody Skies	By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 44832 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Everything else is mine. I do not make any money writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Bloody Skies
oOo
Chapter Fifteen:
oOo
Cyrus slept in on Sunday, refusing to get out of bed until late morning. When he finally pulled himself out of his sheets, he went for the shower. He tried to wash away the grime of the previous day and the feeling of fingers on his skin for half an hour before he decided he was as clean as he was going to get.
Trying to forget, he grabbed all his homework and went to the library after eating a big breakfast. Tara stood behind the counter, reading a book, but Cyrus didn’t bother to say hi and she didn’t look up even though she probably knew he was there. Letting out a relieved breath when he’d walked past her without any explosions of anger, he picked one of the farther corners of the library and set himself up. As he’d spent all of Saturday helping Yankovich raise the zombies, he’d managed to get next to no homework done. Luckily he had no Necromancy essays to finish, as Yankovich had skipped his classes the past week, but he still had all his other classes to consider.
He must have been working on his Healing assignment for three hours before he was interrupted.
“Cyrus!” Xanthir called out, clapping the human on the shoulder.
Cyrus flinched at the contact, but quickly covered it up with surprise. He turned around with a genuine smile. Xanthir was always a chipper face. “Hey Xan. How’s it going?”
The werewolf plunked himself down across from Cyrus, and Yalmireth sat next to the werewolf and said a soft hello. Their movements were comfortable as they pulled out their homework and sat down. Yalmireth had found Xanthir and he in the library two months ago, after Cyrus had gone to Hogwarts to find his phoenix feather, intending to repay some ‘debt’ for Cyrus healing his leg. They’d been studying and hanging out together ever since.
“Oh ya know, this ‘n’ that. I’ve been dyin’ without you here to help me with Rivehn’s homework for the weekend. The project he assigned was eeevil! We’re only just learnin’ how transfigurations work, why did he have to give us somethin’ this hard?”
Cyrus smiled. After the quiz they’d had on Friday, reviewing the year so far, Rivehn had given them an assignment that they weren’t supposed to hand in right away. They had a week to figure it out and ask him questions in class. “I haven’t looked at it yet. Is it really that hard?”
Xanthir stared at him. “What d’you mean you haven’t looked at it yet? You always do your Runes homework first.” He looked down at the papers in front of Cyrus and swiped one of them with an inhumanly fast motion. “What the hell is this? Anatomy? Eeew, I’m glad I decided not to take Healing class. Do you actually have to memorize all this stuff?”
The human’s lips quirked in amusement. “Well, yes. You have to have an understanding of how the body works if you’re to heal the damage,” he said, stealing it back with wandless magic. “This is one of the larger projects Healer Svea’s assigned. I’m almost done, so do try not to destroy all my hard work with your brutish hands.”
Xanthir gaped at him. “Ah! I never!”
Yalmireth raised an eyebrow. “Never? I beg to differ. You ripped my homework last week.”
The werewolf pouted. “That was because you wouldn’t let go!”
Cyrus rolled his eyes. “For good reason, obviously.” He smirked and turned to Yalmireth. “The trick is to use Wandless magic, that way he can’t anticipate you.”
Xanthir crossed his arms and pouted at them.
The demon’s enthusiasm evaporated like a popped balloon. “I can see how that would work, but unfortunately I’m not as skilled in wandless magic as you,” he said in a soft tenor.
Cyrus blinked. “Oh? You’ve got to be able to…” he trailed off when the demon shook his head. “But wait, we’ve gotten to the more complicated spells in class, surely you have to be able to manage a wandless summoning.” When the demon shook his head again, Cyrus gaped. “What? But how are you going to pass the class?”
Yalmireth shrugged and looked down at his homework miserably.
Xanthir patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve tried to help him, but I’m not that good in Wandless either. I do well enough to pass the class, but I can’t explain how to do anything, or how it works, so Yal here still doesn’t get it.”
The human frowned. “Well, why didn’t you say something earlier? I’m helping Xanthir in Runes, so I could help you in Wandless Magic.”
Yalmireth looked up from his homework. “Really?”
Cyrus nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I won’t have time today because I’m swamped, but we could start having short sessions on Monday or something.”
The demon smiled. “Thanks.”
“Where have you been, anyway, Cyrus?” Xanthir interrupted. “I tried to find you yesterday, but you just disappeared off the map, and when I asked Tara she got all angry-face.” His nose scrunched at the memory.
Cyrus looked down at his homework. “I was busy.”
There was silence for a moment as he continued to do his Healing homework. “C’mon man, you gotta give me more than that.”
Cyrus looked up and glared, but held back the nasty comment that had been bubbling to the surface at the taken aback look on Xanthir’s face. The human sighed and looked back down at his homework. “It was a busy and shitty day. Can we just leave it at that?”
“Okay… but if you ever wanna talk ‘bout it, we got open ears.”
The human just nodded and went back to finishing his assignment. The silence at the table was awkward for a short while until Xanthir started asking him Runes questions and they broke out into debates about things as random as how many swords the Potions teacher had. Xanthir and Yalmireth, the demon less so just because Cyrus hadn’t known him for as long, had become good friends during the time he’d known them. He was beginning to feel as comfortable with them as he had with Hermione and Ron before, but after everything that had happened he wasn’t as open anymore. The two non-humans weren't either, so sometimes subjects came up that were stubbornly avoided; however, for the most part they managed to get along and enjoy hanging out with each other.
Cyrus managed to finish all his homework before dinnertime, so he used the time afterwards to eat and don his armor once again. He was just double-checking that he had everything he needed (including that ruby he hadn’t given back to Rivehn yet) when a knock sounded on his door.
He blinked and stared at the offending wooden object. Had someone actually just knocked? Cautiously, he walked towards the door and opened it slowly. Tara stood on the other side.
“Er, hi,” he said awkwardly. Since when did Tara knock?
She inclined her head. “You ready to leave?”
Cyrus nodded and left his room, locking the door and warding it with the elementary spells he knew. He couldn’t wait until he knew how to create a proper set of wards. “Side-along?” he asked.
Tara nodded stiffly and put her hand on his elbow. They disappeared with a squeezing sensation.
Cyrus blinked in surprise when the place they appeared in was familiar. It took him a moment, but he finally recognized it. The room on the top floor on Shelby’s Blood Bath looked different without all the vampire bodies milling about with drinks. It was far less welcoming now, with five other vampires sitting together on a group of chairs and a couch. They watched Cyrus and Tara with sharp eyes, but it was the vampire in the middle of the group that stood. He gave a short, mocking bow to Tara before turning his attention to Cyrus.
“So, this is the human?”
Tara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes.”
The vampire, long and lanky from his hair to his limbs, raised an eyebrow and examined Cyrus with eyes the color of dried blood. “I see. Well, if you could take a seat, we’ll begin the… interview.”
Tara took a step forward. “As he is my donor, I have full rights to ask what… techniques, you will be using in the ‘interview’.”
The vampire looked annoyed. “Very well. As we don’t have much time, Tara of the Bast clan,” he began mockingly, “we will be searching his mind for the evidence we require.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. Like hell they were. He was glad Tara seemed to feel the same way, if her expression of disgust was any indication.
“You will not be tearing through his mind looking for your so called ‘evidence’, interrogator. You have been authorized for an interview. As he has killed no vampire under your jurisdiction, you have no right to rape his mind.”
The expression of irritation grew, and the vampire flashed his fangs with a soft hiss. “I see you have done your homework, little Bast, but you are the one who killed Dalesh of Akkad. From your previous ‘interviews’, as well as from the testimony of others from that night, it was your human that made the first attack.”
Tara’s expression was furious. “Wait just a minute, so you just chose to completely ignore the fact that Dalesh implied he was involved in the raping and killing of one Amelia of the Bast clan?!”
The vampire raised a blasé eyebrow. “The killing of the Bast vampire has nothing to do with this investigation. This is about how you killed Dalesh of Akkad without due cause.” When Tara’s magic crackled in her anger, the vampire smirked. “Careful, Bast. You wouldn’t want to appear threatening and impede the investigation of licensed interrogators, would you?”
She hissed, but reigned in her magic. “You aren’t here to find the truth of the situation. You’re here to cover up for Dalesh, again. I will be contacting the Bast Intelligence Squad, and we will begin our own case to solve this dispute of opinions.”
The vampire waved a hand. “BIS? You do that, little girl. In the meantime, I will be looking through the human’s mind for our evidence.”
Tara scowled. “As you have no right to look through his mind, you can’t request he let you in by our laws.”
The interrogator smirked and snapped his fingers. Two vampires appeared behind Tara and put hands on her shoulders. She hissed and looked ready to fight for a moment, but seemed to think better of it. She looked at Cyrus, and he could see the apology in her eyes. He inclined his head slightly. Even though they had been fighting for the past couple days, she had done her homework into the laws to try to keep him safe.
“You can’t do this, Akkad! It’s illegal!”
The vampire shrugged with a smug expression. “It’s true that by our laws he’s not required to lower his shields to let us search his mind, but if he can’t protect it from us then it falls outside of the print, Little Miss Tara. You should practice reading between the lines.”
She hissed at him, her eyes glowing red with anger.
Cyrus braced himself, his magic swirling under his skin in preparation as the interrogator walked up to him. So, he didn’t have to open his mind to the bastard. And if even Rivehn hadn’t been able to find his mind when it was submerged, this vampire shouldn’t be able to… right?
“Oh, the little human knows some magic tricks.” He smirked, and Cyrus felt the suffocating aura of the vampire settle around him. It was more powerful than Tara’s, but Cyrus managed to throw it off with the technique Tara had taught him not long after he became her donor.
The vampire’s face darkened, and before Cyrus could so much as twitch the vampire had used his inhuman speed to appear in front of Cyrus and grip his chin with iron fingers. Revulsion and nausea raced up his spine, and ghost-like fingers traced over his skin. He tried to pull his face away, but the grip was too tight.
“Let’s see what your mind has to hide, little human,” the interrogator muttered with a sadistic grin.
Cyrus stared furiously into those eyes, waiting for pain or something. He gasped as the feeling of the vampire’s magic entered the channels in his head. Blood rushed to his face as pleasure raced through his body at the contact. Sheer horror at enjoying the sensation of this bastard trying to rape his mind had his magic churning angrily beneath his skin. If he just attacked him, though, the vampire might kill him. The mixture of fear, pleasure, and adrenaline had his head swimming.
The vampire’s face darkened, and Cyrus gasped as he felt that slowly gliding magic turn sharp and start digging relentlessly in search of a mind that had been moved. Giving him a hell of a headache, shockwaves of pain spread through his head for a few moments before the vampire grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed. He hissed in pain.
“You sent a Golem?” the interrogator asked, furious as he continued to squeeze. Cyrus cried out when he felt and heard his bones crack under the pressure. What the hell was he talking about?
“Stop that! You’re hurting him! And what the fuck are you talking about, a Golem?!” Tara shouted, pulling against the two vampires holding her back.
The interrogator increased his strength and Cyrus’s vision turned white. “He’s rather real for a Golem. I’m impressed with your design, but you shouldn’t have been so arrogant. He has no mind, therefore he’s nothing but a Golem. The last person who tried to pull this trick on me is still rotting in our dungeons, Bast.”
“You idiot! He’s a goddamn first year student at Shikaan, where the hell would he have learned to make a Golem?! Let him go!”
The vampire scowled. “Stop pretending, Tara. I’m sure he could have hired someone to make it for him. I guess I’ll just have to kill it for you to take me seriously.”
Cyrus’s eyes widened, and self-preservation made his magic explode outward in a shockwave. There was no way he was going to just get offed by this bat-shit crazy vampire. Calling up his full body bubble shield, he let his body collapse to the ground, as the interrogator wasn’t holding him up anymore, and started healing the damage. His collarbones, or clavicles as he’d learned in Healing class, had been broken on both sides. He hadn’t believed the books when they said how much a broken collarbone hurt. White spots spinning in his vision, he’d only just moved the bones back into place to heal them with magic when the vampire hit his shield with a kick and sent him flying backwards. Panicking, he barely managed to get out a cushioning charm before he hit the wall. The charm didn’t stop his body from shifting around however, and he screamed at the pain of his clavicles shifting out of alignment again.
“GODDAMNIT! CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S INJURED?! CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”
Cyrus tuned out the argument after that, focusing on moving his clavicles back into place and healing the broken bone. The process was prolonged when he had to catch all the shards of bone that had broken off and put them back in order. It took a minute, but he finally healed the bone, the damaged tissues, and the broken blood vessels. Opening his eyes and looking up, he saw Tara thrashing on the floor, the two vampires sitting on top of her and holding her in place. Her fangs had extended, and her magic surrounded her with a soft red glow.
The human flinched when the rusty-eyed vampire appeared right in front of him, wondering if the bastard was going to try to kick him through the wall this time. The vampire poked his shield with a perplexed expression.
“Either you are a very rich little boy, or you’re real. Few people can make a Golem with bones that break and its own source of magic like this.”
Cyrus stared back into those eyes, trying to hide the terror that raced through him by being so close to this vampire again. They were ridiculously strong, and powerful. He hated how weak he was compared to them. He could take down a squad of Voldemort’s weaker Death Eaters in minutes, eventually come out on top against some of the Inner Circle, and does that skill hold up against a vampire? No. And he hated himself for fearing this asshole, but he couldn’t forget exactly how close he’d been do death. All because the vampire thought he was a fucking ‘Golem’.
“You smell pretty real, too.”
“That’s because he is real, you imbecile!”
The Akkad vampire looked over his shoulder and hissed. Cyrus watched as Tara’s face became mutinous, but she closed her mouth with a click. Rust for eyes turned back around and poked Cyrus’s shield again, some of his ire replaced by… curiosity?
“Don’t see many people capable of holding one of these up. You must have quite a bit of magic… for a human.”
Were vampires capable of complimenting humans without insulting them in the same sentence?
The vampire’s curious expression turned annoyed. “I need my interview, human. Perhaps we should stop playing games?”
Cyrus stared at him. “Games? Breaking my bones and tossing me around like a rag doll is playing games?”
The vampire smirked. “You’re in our world now, human.”
Cyrus fingered the ruby in his pocket that he hadn’t given back to Rivehn, contemplating escape. But then, even if he did manage to get the hell out of there, he was still fucked. They could find him. “What the hell do you want, then?”
“You will let me into your mind to find the evidence I’m looking for.”
Cyrus mentally scoffed. Like that was going to happen. The vampire would take what he wanted and twist it into a mess that would get his ass killed, if not worse. And on top of that, it wasn’t like he had ‘normal’ secrets. “Not going to happen.”
The vampire grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, and even with Cyrus’s cushioning charm the gravitation force had his body swishing around like jell-o in a bottle. “You will give me what I want, human. Or I will shatter this little shield of yours and break your limbs one by one until you tell me what I want to know!” To punctuate his statement, the vampire slammed him against the wall again. With the amount of force being exerted against it, you’d think it would have broken by now. Unless the architecture was enhanced to withstand vampire brutality.
“You can’t do that, Akkad! It’s against the laws!”
“I am the law, little Bast. I am the head of ACIF.”
Tara hissed. “If you try to kill him to get him to let you into your mind, I can take it before our law. There are lines, Akkad. Go get a fucking court order, and we’ll see you then.”
He disappeared from in front of Cyrus, and the next thing the human knew he saw Tara hanging from the vampire’s grip on her neck. She glared at him, flashing her fangs. He hissed right in her face. “I do not follow your orders, you little insect.”
She smirked. “By law you are not sanctioned to be carrying out our execution, so I suggest you go get legal. You’re wasting everyone’s time here trying to scare us into giving you what you want.”
He growled low in his chest, and for a moment Cyrus almost believed he would take off Tara’s head with a swipe of his arm. But then, the vampire just let her go and she landed on her feet. His scowl was monstrous. “I will get my court order, little Bast, and it will be your head I will enjoy taking the most.”
She just scowled at him, looking like she wanted to bite off something caustic but holding herself back.
“Team, we’re leaving,” he barked out to his subordinates. He turned back to Tara. “If you’re lucky, you have a week before the paperwork goes through. I suggest you take what pleasures you can out of life, before it is snuffed under my claws.” He disappeared with an angry crack, and his team followed.
Cyrus let out the breath he’d been holding and slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, he forced back the stinging in his eyes. God, but there was just so much. And it never ended. He’d been so close to dying – was so close to dying. He could get killed over this little dispute. And he didn’t want to die, he had too many plans. Too much to learn. He still had to kill Voldemort, dodge Dumbledore, fall in… He cut himself off, pushing the depressing thoughts away. They had a dead vampire to convict.
Taking in a breath that he would never admit was shaky, he climbed to his feet. Hardening his resolve, he walked towards Tara.
She spoke before he could even open his mouth. “Are you alright?”
Cyrus blinked, surprised by the genuine concern he could see in her eyes. “Er, yeah. I’m alright. I managed to heal the… the broken bones.”
Tara nodded, biting her lip and averting her eyes. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before she tried to speak again. “I… I just wanted…” Her brow furrowed with frustration, and Cyrus took a cautious step backwards. He wasn't going to get banged around again, if he had anything to say about it. She saw his movement and her eyes widened. “Wha- Are you… are you afraid of me?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”
Cyrus shrugged defensively. “Well, it’s just… most vampires I seem to meet nowadays want to eat me, or kill me.” He paused awkwardly, fingering his wand. “It’s nothing personal.”
Tara took a step forward, opening her mouth to say something, and Cyrus couldn’t stop himself from flinching backwards at the sudden movement. When she actually looked hurt, he frowned. “I…” she began haltingly, eyebrows furrowed as she searched his eyes for… something. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Cyrus.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What about the time you slammed me against the wall, huh?”
She twitched. “I was… angry, and frustrated, with all of this Dalesh stuff. I’ve been stressed lately. I’m not going to kill you, so stop looking at me like that.” She glared and crossed her arms over her chest.
Cyrus wanted to tell her that glaring at him like he was her number one enemy wasn’t inspiring any confidence in him, but wisely kept his mouth sealed shut. “Right. So, what do we do about Dalesh? I mean, about proving that he… did it.”
Tara tapped a finger on her chin, pacing across the space in front of him in thought. “Well, we need a source of information. Who might know that he did it?”
Cyrus blinked as a thought struck him. “He might know.”
“What? Who?”
“Dalesh.” And then a brilliant idea struck him. “Hey wait, even better, Amelia! We could raise Amelia!”
Tara’s expression darkened. “That’s impossible. She… there’s no body to raise.”
Cyrus winced. “Oh…” he said awkwardly, not sure he wanted to dare asking why that was.
“You think you can raise Dalesh?”
The human shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve only been raising muggles so far in class, and Yankovich mentioned once that raising magical beings was more… difficult. But we could try. If we took the proper precautions.”
“If you can’t, we can always hire a professional.” Her eyes lit up for a moment before dimming. “Shit. Now we just need to find his body and steal it. From the Akkad clan.” She let air out through her teeth in a hiss. “Fuck. That’s going to be… tricky, to say the least.”
“So, how are we going to find it, first off?”
Tara bit her lip. “Well… he might have already been sealed in a tomb. Or buried in a cemetery. Or he might have been cremated.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “Damn. Can you find out?”
She taped a finger on her chin again in thought. “Maybe. I have a few… acquaintances in the Akkad clan. I’ll see if they can dig something up.”
The human nodded. “Sounds good.”
Tara made a thoughtful noise and stared into space for a few moments before nodding to herself. “Yes. That should work.” She looked at him. “You should go back to Shikaan, and I’ll get in contact with you when I have more information. Do you have a magi-com yet?”
He blinked. “Er, no. Where do I get one?”
“Hmm… there should be a store in Gemini Square that sells them. The only place I know about for sure is here in Other Realm, and I’m sure you don’t want to try navigating that market.” She grinned. “You might accidentally sell yourself.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows shot up. “Sell myself?”
She nodded. “Yep. Now, hurry up and apparate out. I don’t want to leave until I’m sure some vampire hasn’t stolen and molested you.”
Cyrus felt the blood drain out of his face at the comment, fear racing up his spine at the thought of someone t-
“Cyrus? You alright? You went white as a sheet there.”
The human looked at Tara and tried to smile, but knew it came out weak. He purposely ignored the calculating glint in the vampire’s eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.” He disapparated with a crack, not bothering to lessen the noise.
oOo
Monday. One day closer to the coming Sunday, and one day closer to the court order that would have a vampire ripping through his mind and then cutting off his head. One day closer to the end of the-
“Cyrus?”
The human snapped out of his morose thoughts and turned to look at the person who had joined him at his table in the Main Hall. He smiled half-heartedly. “Hey Yalmireth.”
The demon sat down across from him, his feline pupils contracted to slits in the lighting of the Main Hall. “Hello. Is everything alright? You look a little… down.”
Cyrus let out an explosive sigh. “Yeah, well. There’s just… it’s been a rough couple days.”
The demon’s eyebrows rose. “Couple days? I thought it was just Saturday.”
The human snorted. “I wish. It just keeps getting…” he took a slow breath as his voice started cracking. “Worse,” he finished softly. He stared down at his food and pushed his peas around on his plate.
“Do you… want to talk about it?”
Cyrus bit his lip and sighed. “I… I just want to forget, you know? But forgetting doesn’t make it… doesn’t change the fact that it happened. And I…” to his horror, he found his voice cracking again. Biting his lip, he stabbed his peas more forcefully. He was not a girl. He would not cry like one. Especially not in front of the entire school.
He was so out of it he didn’t even notice that Yalmireth had stood and moved around the small circular table so he was sitting next to Cyrus. He did notice, however, the fingers that touched his hand, and he ripped his arm away and stared blankly at the demon for a moment until the image of Macnair faded and he focused on feline, steel-gray eyes that were watching him with concern.
“What…” Yalmireth began softly. “What happened? You didn’t used to-“
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cyrus bit out quietly, standing up to leave the table. He left the Main Hall without looking back, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Necromancy didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but he didn’t want to stay in such a crowded place any longer, so he figured he’d go to the library or back to his room.
A hand grabbed his shoulder in the hall outside the Main Hall, and Cyrus couldn’t stop his body from flinching away from the touch. Turning, he saw Yalmireth watching him with calm gray eyes, his brow furrowed slightly with concern. “Something happened,” the demon said softly, his hesitance disappearing under the assertive set of his shoulders. “Something bad,” Yalmireth continued. “You weren’t so… adverse to touch before.”
Cyrus glanced around to see if anyone was listening. A pair of students were chatting at the edge of the corridor, but there were werewolves and vampires and other beings with incredibly sharp senses all over the place. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeated firmly, setting his jaw stubbornly.
Yalmireth followed his gaze to the two chattering students and frowned. “Perhaps this is not a good location,” the demon said.
“Or a good time,” Cyrus cut in, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. “I have class in ten minutes.”
The demon nodded. “I understand. When is your last class?”
Cyrus stared. “I never said I wanted to-“
“You are going to talk to me,” the demon stated, and Cyrus’s mouth fell open, completely taken aback. “This is not healthy. So you will tell me what your last class is, and I will meet you there afterwards. Then, you are going to teach me wandless magic for half an hour. After that, we will discuss what happened on Saturday.”
Cyrus spluttered. “Y-you can’t just tell me what to do like that!”
The demon raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “I am your friend. You have something you need to talk about, so we will talk.”
“And what if I don't want to talk to you about it?! You can’t just make decisions like that!”
Yalmireth took him, gently, by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall. Cyrus felt his whole body light up with fear, phantom fingers racing along his skin and over his most sensitive areas. As he began to shake, he felt shame burn his cheeks, and he had to look away from those steady eyes, but not before he saw the sorrow in them. “See?” the demon said in his soft tenor. “You are frightened of me. Of my touch.” Cyrus shuddered. “That, my friend… makes me worry for you. So we will talk. Please, will you meet me after your last class?”
Cyrus turned to look at Yalmireth and refuse him point blank, but the look in the demon’s eyes had his words dying in his mouth. Why did the demon look so pained? “Why?” Cyrus whispered, his body still shivering under the hands on his shoulders, at the proximity of Yalmireth to his face. “Why do you care?”
Yalmireth looked affronted. “You are my friend, of course.” The tumultuous gray darkened slightly. “Of course I care.”
Cyrus bit his lip and looked away from those eyes of molten steel. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “I’ll meet you after. But we’re not doing any ‘talking’. I’ll teach you wandless magic and then we’ll do homework.” He looked up and stared into those eyes stubbornly.
Yalmireth looked both amused and resigned. “Of course, Cyrus. When is your last class?”
“Two periods from now. Animagus.”
The demon nodded and pulled away, and Cyrus couldn’t keep the relief off his face as the touch left him. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder – really, he should have just shrunk it – and hurried off to Necromancy, not once glancing back to look at Yalmireth.
oOo
“Obsidian! Your turn next.”
Cyrus sighed from where he stood at the back of the class. Yankovich had been calling them forward by name today, not asking for volunteers. And it was almost as if the demon was trying to make up for lost time because they were learning how to raise multiple dead at once. The human didn’t know if this was because of what happened on Saturday inspiring Yankovich’s lesson plan, or whether the demon had originally planned it or not, but it didn’t feel like the class was ready or comfortable with the exercise. Most had failed, so the class had taken to drawing salt circles to protect themselves from the flesh-eating zombies.
Cyrus vowed from that day forth to carry multiple bags of rock salt in his bottomless bag. You never knew when a zombie incursion could threaten your life. After this past lesson, he sure as hell wasn’t tempting fate.
“Obsidian! This century, please,” the demon barked.
Cyrus shuffled to the front of the class, careful not to break any salt circles as he went. Coming to a stop in front of Yankovich, he repressed the urge to kick a rock. He wasn’t that childish. He was just… well, he’d rather not be in class that day. Or the rest of the week, for that matter.
Yankovich raised an eyebrow. “Well? If you’ve been paying attention, you should get this on the first try.”
The human let out a silent sigh and closed his eyes. Drawing on his death magic, he managed to pull out two threads and wrap them around one of the dead bodies beneath him. It twitched and was about to rise, but Yankovich grabbed his shoulder and his concentration was completely shot. He slid out from under the hand and opened his eyes to glare at the demon.
Yankovich frowned at him, an odd look in his eyes. “I was going to tell you that this is not an exercise of raising bodies one by one, but at least five at a time. Try again.” The hand that had been floating in the air fell back to the demon’s side.
Cyrus nodded cautiously and stayed where he had moved, keeping some distance between the demon and himself. Closing his eyes again, he focused on his death magic and drew out some more threads. He tried to distribute them into the bodies below him, but the threads dissolved before they could settle in the bodies. Letting out an angry breath, he tried to draw on more death magic at a time and was stumped. Fuck. Why the hell couldn’t he pull out more? After he channeled all that death magic for the raising on Saturday, he knew he had more death magic than this. Drawing himself deeper, he filtered all his natural magic back into his core and let his channels fill with death magic. He smiled at the familiar cool power circulating under his skin, and extended it into the earth below him.
And proceeded to cuss wildly as the entire ground beneath him came alive.
“Shit!” he heard Yankovich yell. “Class! Get the hell out of here! Obsidian, stay behind!” There was silence for a moment, and then Cyrus’s eyes snapped open as he heard bodies clawing their way out of the ground. “NOW YOU IDIOTS!”
The class apparated out pretty quickly after that. Cyrus turned to Yankovich, eyes wide as he saw dead bodies of varying decomposition start coming towards them. He felt like he was in a horror movie. “What do I do?!” he asked desperately, jumping to the side and just barely avoiding the teeth of a particularly dead looking zombie. Freaking out, he tried to call a shield spell into existence around him and was met with nothing.
Nothing.
Eyes wide, he dodged another zombie. “My magic isn’t working! Why isn’t my magic working?!” He held his hands out towards the zombies and tried to cast an incendio with no luck.
“Obsidian! Calm down and get your ass inside one of the salt circles!”
Dodging another zombie – just barely – Cyrus made a break for the closest circle. Just as he was about to jump across, a hand caught his foot and he face planted into the dirt. When he felt teeth sink into his ankle, he shouted and lashed out with the death magic flowing through his channels. It didn’t help. The zombie’s teeth sank even deeper into his ankle and he screamed.
Abruptly, the teeth were ripped from his flesh and he was thrown ass over teakettle into the circle. Gripping his ankle, he tried to heal it with his magic and only ended up aggravating the wound even more with his death magic.
Biting his lip in pain and frustration, he looked around to see dead body after dead body, all clawing at the edge of the salt circle like men dying of thirst and he was the oasis. Wide-eyed, he caught a glimpse of the broken line of salt from where he’d been tossed over it. Swearing, he moved forward to fix it but was too late. A zombie crawled its way through, and Cyrus quickly scuttled backwards and almost went over the other side of the salt circle.
He was now a hundred percent sure he was going to carry rocksalt on him everywhere he went. If he survived.
Suddenly, just as the zombie was about to grab him, a blast of magic sent the other inferi flying away from him, destroying the salt circle at the same time. Before he could panic again, two hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him into the air. He watched the ground move farther away with some confusion.
Finally, his mind kicked in as he heard the swish of wings and felt each jerk of gravity as they moved up and down in the air. For a moment, instinct grabbed him and he tried to wiggle out of the arms. He hated the feeling of hands touching him, digging into his flesh and-
“Stop. Fucking. Moving. Do you want me to drop you?” Yankovich’s familiar voice filtered into his ear with a warm puff of air.
Cyrus went tense as a bowstring. He felt trapped. He didn’t want to land in the frothing mouth of a zombie, but he was by no means comfortable in the air either. Absently, he noticed he was hyperventilating, but he couldn’t seem to stop even as the world began to turn gray at the edges. Before he could react, he was spun around in the air, and for one painful second he felt nothingness under his feet.
And then two arms grabbed him, and he was held flush against his Necromancy teacher. His mind went blank for a moment, but the burst of fear had shocked him out of his hyperventilation. Staring into dark blue eyes, he was horrified to feel his body tingle at the heat given off by the demon’s body, and the rock-hard muscles beneath the demon’s clothes. Yankovich was one of the teachers that very rarely wore robes, as they caused trouble with his wings more often than not.
Said demon had raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you finished having your little panic attack? We have over three hundred muggles we have to put back in the ground. I suggest you focus.”
Cyrus nodded shakily, trying to ignore the feeling of Yankovich holding him over twenty feet in the air.
“Now. Why can’t you use your magic?”
Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The demon scowled. “Yes you do. You had no problem conjuring that mattress for yourself after you channeled two days ago. So think. What did you do differently then?”
Frowning, the human tried to remember, tried to ignore the body flush with his own. Finally, he caved and asked, “Do you really have to hold me like this?”
Yankovich looked entirely unimpressed. “I could dangle you from your ankle, unless you’ve got a broom secreted away in your bags somewhere.”
Cyrus swallowed. “No, I don’t have a broom.”
“Then stop bitching and do as I told you.”
The human bit his lip and did as Yankovich asked. What had Cyrus done before? Casting his mind back, he finally remembered. Letting out a soft curse, he called his death magic back into his core and let his natural magic run freely through his channels again.
How could he have forgotten something so simple? Oh yeah. Zombies were munching on him. Thinking about zombies made him aware of the frissons of pain shooting up his leg. He suppressed a hiss of pain. “Okay. What do we do now?”
“You’ve found your magic again?” Cyrus nodded. “Alright, what happened then?”
“I forgot to take my death magic out of my channels and fill them with natural magic again.”
Yankovich was silent for a moment, so the human turned to look into the demon’s eyes and saw a calculating glint. “Why did you need your death magic to fill your channels?”
“I couldn’t pull out enough death magic with my natural magic in my channels.”
“Hm. And how did you know to do this?”
Cyrus paused. “I don’t know. I just did it, before, when I had to channel for the raising two days ago. I decided to try it again today and see if I could raise the zombies that way.” He bit his lip. “What went wrong, exactly?”
“You dumped a shitload of death magic into the ground without controlling where it was going, and without creating threads to connect you to the dead you were raising.”
Cyrus blinked. “Oh. Shit.”
Yankovich’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners in amusement. “Shit is right. And now I’m going to have to show you how to fix this in case it happens again.”
The human nodded and looked away, embarrassed.
“And you and I are having private lessons twice a week from now on. I’m not letting you touch another body during class until I’ve already gone through the same exercise with you myself, understand? If you weren’t so damn useful, this last episode would have convinced me to seal your death magic for good.”
Eyes wide, Cyrus turned his head to look at his teacher. “You can’t do that!”
Yankovich raised an eyebrow. “And who would stop me, hm? The school? They would follow my advice. The council? They would either agree with me or steal you and claim they had nothing to do with it in order to use you as a channel day and night.”
The human’s eyes widened. “W-what? They can’t just abduct me, can they?”
“Well… they probably wouldn’t. Most necromancers like to keep to themselves, so as long as you manage to get your death magic under control there’s no reason for the council to step in.”
Relief slackened his body, and for a moment he was fretting over something worse than physical contact with Yankovich. “Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh’. Now, you need to put these zombies back in the ground. Reach out to them with your mind and connect a thread to the death magic inside them.”
Cyrus took in a breath and closed his eyes. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he pulled his magic back into his core and flooded his body with death magic again. Reaching out towards the zombies, he tried to connect to them all and failed miserably. “There’s too many of them,” he muttered after his third failed attempt.
“Do it one by one. And then try two. Etcetera.”
Cyrus did as ordered, connecting to one of the zombies. He felt the thread snap into place, so he had the zombie go back to rest with a silent command of his will as he had done in previous classes. He felt it go to sleep under the ground and moved on to the next body.
By the time he had put all three hundred zombies back in the ground, he could attach himself to five dead at a time. When he opened his eyes again, Yankovich was setting them back on the ground, and Cyrus gratefully released his arms and took a few steps away from the demon. Looking around at the messed up salt circles and the occasional broken tombstone, he wondered if they could get in trouble for property damage.
“I want you to go straight to Healer Svea after this, okay?” When Cyrus nodded, Yankovich continued. “Good. Are you free Tuesday and Thursday nights at eight?”
Cyrus blinked and brought himself back to the real world. “Uh, I think so.” At Yankovich’s expression, he amended, “I’m pretty sure. Yes. I’m free.”
The demon nodded. “Good. We’ll be having your private lessons then. I want to get you to the point where you don’t explode like that again asap. I do have other things to do.”
Cyrus nodded. “Where do I meet you?”
“Outside my office. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yankovich said before disappearing into the ground. Cyrus blinked and stared at the grass-covered spot the demon had disappeared into. Could he really shadow walk through grass shadows?
Thoughts for another day. He needed to go to Animagus class, and then he had to… He winced. Yalmireth. Letting out an explosive sigh, he apparated out of the graveyard.
oOo
“I still don’t understand.”
Cyrus let out a sigh, but kept the comment he was about to make trapped behind his teeth at the kicked puppy look on Yalmireth’s face. Closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself – it really wasn’t fair for him to take his shitty day out on the demon – Cyrus tried to think of another way to explain it.
“Okay. So, we’ve established that you have poor control over your magic wandlessly. Does it feel like it’s difficult to access or difficult to use.”
The miserable look increased even more. “I don’t know.”
Cyrus nodded absently. He really wanted to take a shower, but he couldn’t until Yalmireth was gone. After Svea had healed his zombie bite, he’d been itching for a shower all Animagus class. And even know he could feel the tingle of hands. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he tried to figure out away to make Yalmireth understand.
Sitting down on the end of his bed, Cyrus called a ball of light into his hands. “Let’s take this step by step. Hold your hands out in front of you and conjure a light.”
Yalmireth frowned and held his hands out from of him from where he sat on one of Cyrus’s rickety chairs. A light sputtered into existence for a moment before dying with a miserable pop. The demon let out a miserable sigh and dropped his hands to his lap. “I’m hopeless. I’m never going to get this.”
Cyrus hopped off his perch and let his own light die in his hands. “You can get this, Yalmireth. It’s just a matter of finding the right method for you.” Conjuring a chair to sit on, he planted himself in front of the demon. Putting his hands on Yalmireth’s own, he decided to try a method that had been floating at the back of his mind for a while. His magic sensitivity. He could ‘sense’ inside that snake before, as well as see Ashawyn attaching the channel during the raising, so why couldn’t it help him now? He really needed to get into the library to research it.
“Try again,” he said softly, focusing on opening himself as he had when learning how to channel. It took a moment, but he felt the spark of magic zipping down the channels in Yalmireth’s arms when the demon tried to summon light again. He frowned, not knowing exactly how to describe what he was ‘seeing’. “Try it with your wand.”
There was silence for a moment before one of the hands was pulled from his own and came back with a wand. Cyrus put one hand on Yalmireth’s own and the other on his arm. This time, when he watched the light spell, he could see the same movement of magic, but the spell came out just fine. He frowned. “Again.” The demon did as he asked, and finally Cyrus caught it. “Oh. Well, that is interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” Yalmireth asked softly.
Cyrus opened his eyes to look at him. “It’s the flow of your magic. It’s uneven. When you cast a spell with a wand, it doesn’t matter whether the flow of magic is even for most spells, as the magic collects in the wand and is then released with the casting of the spell. With wandless magic, however, there is no focus to act as a reservoir for the magic and then release it. You simply feed the magic for the spell directly from your hand, or any other body part. So one of the hard parts of wandless magic is being able to measure exactly how much you need, and being able to channel it evenly and almost all at once.”
Yalmireth frowned. “So… what must I do to make it work?”
The human frowned thoughtfully. “Hm… You’re going to have to learn how to channel your magic more precisely. I can help you with that, because I can tell you exactly what’s going wrong as you do it, and then you can learn how it feels to cast the spells properly.”
The demon smiled, his eyes losing some of their fog. “Really?”
Cyrus nodded. “I think so. I mean, I’m not an expert, but it makes sense to me.”
Yalmireth nodded. “Thank you. When can we have our next… practice session?”
The human stood and stretched, pushing his chair under the table. “I dunno. I have a lesson with Yankovich tomorrow, so Wednesday might be better.”
Leaning back in his chair, Yalmireth raised a curious eyebrow. “Lesson? Why do you have a lesson with Yankovich?”
Letting out an explosive sigh, Cyrus plopped down on his bed. It was far more comfortable than a chair. “My… my death magic went out of control today. As in, completely. I raised three hundred zombies by accident, nearly got my class eaten, and nearly got eaten myself. It was a shitty day.” He ran a hand through his hair and massaged the back of his tense neck.
“Would you like a massage? I’m rather good at them.”
Cyrus tensed. Licking his lips nervously, he avoided eye contact. “Ah, no. Thanks. I think I’ll just take a shower.”
Looking up, he saw Yalmireth frown. “You have been showering often, these past couple days.”
The human froze. “Really. And how would you know that?”
Yalmireth’s lips twitched up at the corners. “I can smell it. After both lunch and dinner on Sunday you came back to our study session smelling clean. Is there a reason you feel the need to wash so much when you are not dirty?” The demon tilted his head to the side curiously, but Cyrus didn’t like the way those steel-colored eyes seemed to see.
“No. No reason at all.”
Yalmireth’s expression was placid. “Of course. And why do you flinch from touch? You tensed when I mentioned a massage. Is it unusual for a person to offer such services in order to relax a friend? Why were you so displeased with the idea? You’re one of my… my few friends, and I just want to help you.”
Cyrus stared at a random book on his bookshelf. “No reason. I just don’t like massages.”
Yalmireth sighed. “But even if you do not want one, you need one.”
Cyrus scowled. “I’m not having this conversation. I’m taking a shower.” Sliding off the bed, he walked into his bathroom and shut the door without looking back. He hoped Yalmireth was gone when he finished.
But it was not meant to be. Even after wasting thirty minutes of water, the demon was sitting exactly where Cyrus had left him. Scowling darkly, he kicked his trunk open, furious with himself for not getting clothes before going for his shower. Clamoring awkwardly down the stairs with one hand holding his towel shut, he ignored the eyes he could feel smoldering across him. Taking a slow, deep breath, he stepped off the ladder and made for his dresser. Ripping the drawer open, he pulled out random things without really worrying about matching. Frowning at the lack of shirts, he made a mental note to go to Gemini Square to pick some more up the coming weekend.
Lost in his thoughts, he was understandably surprised by the hands that landed on his shoulders and began to knead gently. He tried to step away and walked right into his dresser, his towel slipping dangerously low on his hips. He tensed as the body behind him followed his movement, and Cyrus found himself pinned between wood and a male body. Closing his eyes, he tried to repress the nausea that built at the touch. “Please. Stop,” Cyrus asked, his magic swirling under his skin in preparation. He didn’t want to attack his friend, but if Yalmireth didn’t let go he couldn't be held accountable for his actions.
“Why, Cyrus? Tell me what happened, and I’ll stop.”
Cyrus ripped away and snarled. “Why the fuck can’t you just leave it alone?!”
It was the look of sadness in Yalmireth’s eyes that stopped him from magically attacking. “Why don’t you trust me?”
Cyrus stopped dead. “This isn’t a matter of trust, Yalmireth, nothing hap-“
“Stop lying!”
The human took a step back, completely flabbergasted by Yalmireth’s lack of tact. Why did the demon have to pick now to be assertive?!
“Please.” Gray eyes begged. “Just let me help you.”
Cyrus scowled. “Get out of my trunk so I can get dressed.” He didn’t feel comfortable with the demon watching water drip down his chest.
The demon frowned, disappointment shining so brightly in his eyes that Cyrus almost winced. “Very well,” the demon said softly, all his former confidence disappearing as he turned around and left.
For some reason he couldn’t identify, Cyrus felt guilty. And he hated that he did.
oOo
He got an owl from Severus of all people later that night. The owl that had delivered the mail turned his nose up at Cyrus’s offer of treats before flying off with a flick of his tail feathers. The human felt as if he had been insulted, but couldn’t bring himself to care as he quickly opened the letter. It wasn’t often that he got mail form his guardians. Occasionally they would send letters to ask what he was doing, and Remus would complain about him not visiting often enough, but Cyrus never really got into trading letters with them. It always felt… a little forced.
Dear Cyrus,
I am sending this letter and vial in the hope that you had something to do with recent events, and will take some pleasure from the outcome. As Yankovich asked me to provide memories if anything ‘unfortunate’ happened to the Dark Lord, I decided to send you a copy as well. It would be wise, if you have not already done so, to get a pensieve. If you ever need to recount events or information to friends or others, it is a very useful tool to have.
Remus requests that I ask you to come visit soon. He complains about missing your company after the time we shared during Christmas. I myself admit that I have expected to trip over one of your spell books lately, only to find none in the house.
Regards,
Severus
Cyrus couldn’t help but crack a smile at the spell book comment. During the Holidays, he had been doing quite a bit of reading, and often he forgot a book on the floor or the coffee table for days before he picked it back up. Or Remus picked it up for him.
Checking the time, he decided he could probably kill two birds with one stone and get a pensieve and magi-com at the same time. After getting dressed, he got out of his trunk and closed it behind him. Making sure he had his money, he apparated with a quiet crack.
oOo
Cyrus put his pensieve down on his tiny table and popped the cork of the vial that came with Severus’s owl. Tipping it over, he watched the silver white liquid stretch until gravity finally pulled it down into the metal bowl. The suspense was killing him. His magi-com sat unopened in its box on his bed, as he couldn’t wait to see the look on Voldemort’s face when the zombies tried to eat him.
Cyrus knew what that felt like. The eating part, that is.
Sinking his head into the misty liquid, the real world vanished in a whirlpool of color.
Looking around curiously, Cyrus saw many cloaked bodies and masked faces. A Death Eater meeting. He snorted at the dungeon décor. Still no imagination. Voldemort hadn’t changed a bit.
“Tonight, my faithful, will be the beginning of the end of this age of Light. With our army, we will overtake our foes and bring about a new age of magic!” Voldemort held his arms away from himself, as if to embrace his avid listeners. “We will no longer hide in the shadows. We will no longer let the Ministry ignore us. We will take what rightfully belongs to us!”
Cyrus had to hand it to the lunatic. He made great speeches. For a millisecond, Cyrus had almost believed the world to be at the tip of his fingers. And then the reality beyond the sound of that sibilant voice had come crashing in. When Voldemort wasn’t torturing his followers, and if he didn’t have a snake for a face, he could be charismatic.
“With our army of inferi, we will storm the Ministry!”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened. The Ministry? Voldemort was going after the Ministry? Why hadn’t Remus or Severus said anything?
There was a chorus of shouts, and then the world swirled for a moment as Memory Severus disapparated. When the swirling colors came to a stop, they were in the main hall of the Ministry and moving in. People screamed as pandemonium broke lose, running left and right to escape the Death Eaters. Cyrus watched Severus for a moment as the man cast spells, most of them mysteriously hitting the stone and dissipating as they missed, or more harmless spells hitting some of the headless chickens.
Cyrus’s respect for his own race dropped a few notches as he watched wizards and witches run instead of drawing their wands to defend themselves. It was ridiculous how fear had molded their responses to ‘flight’ instead of ‘fight’. Some of them might actually have survived if they’d had the mind to cast a decent protego. Where the hell were the Aurors? Was the Ministry really this incompetent?
Shaking his head, he watched as the bodies of maimed or unconscious ministry workers were piled around the fountain with the wizard, centaur, goblin, and house elf statues. His fingers itched for his wand as Voldemort stood their with a satisfied smirk as his zombies gnawed on those still running away. They would die in less than a day if they didn't get proper treatment.
Finally, just as Cyrus was beginning to lose patience with the pointless slaughter, a team of Death Eaters came down the hall with a man squirming in their grasp. Squinting to see better, he gasped at the sight of Cornelius Fudge, the short and pudgy man’s face a splotchy red and white from fear.
“Please don’t kill me oh Merlin please don’t kill me I can co-operate, I can do anything you want, just don-“ He was smacked over the back of the head.
“Shut up, Minister. Our master doesn’t want to hear your blathering any longer.”
Voldemort chuckled. “Very good, Rabastan. Did you have any trouble with his guards?”
“No, my Lord. We caught him just as he was about to escape through his personal floo. His guards were easy enough to dispatch.”
The Dark Lord nodded, walking forward with a dramatic flare of his robes. Cyrus would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t so worried about missing some tiny detail. “Very good. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Minister, but that would be a lie.” The look of disgust on Voldemort’s face mirrored Cyrus’s own feelings about the man. “I thank you for convincing the world that I had not returned. It made my maneuvering much easier.”
Fudge turned puce. “W-what are you g-going to d-d-d-o with m-me?”
A slow, amused smirk stretched serpentine lips. “Why, you have outgrown your usefulness. With the Ministry taken, I have no need for you. Rabastan.”
The Death Eater inclined his head and cast the killing curse without hesitation. Cyrus watched the body hit the ground with apathy. Fudge had been a blubbering fool of a man, and a horrible Minister. Cyrus hoped, if this attack played out with Voldemort failing, that they assigned a more competent Minister the next time. One who would prepare Britain for war. Because that was what this was. Voldemort was making the first obvious and unmistakable move against the Light.
Cyrus rolled his eyes at the thought, watching Voldemort order his minions around like cattle. ‘Light’. ‘Dark’. Now that he had a proper understanding of Light and Dark magics, courtesy of the stellar education of Shikaan, he had to laugh at the way wizarding society had separated the two. Half of the spells classified Dark were in fact Light spells. The definition of a Dark Art was a magical power that tempted and threatened to overrun the mind and control the user. With a proper education of Dark magic and how to avoid addiction, as they were taught in Dark Arts and Their Defense, there was no danger in casting those kinds of spells.
Watching the Death Eaters mill about, Cyrus wondered when the glorified Order of the Flaming Rubber Chicken was supposed to arrive.
As if cued by his thoughts, the Order came bursting through the fires and into a chaotic hell. Cyrus caught the expressions on their faces at the sight of the Death Eaters and all the zombies. He watched as Dumbledore, at the head of the group, cast a flaming whip with his wand in his left hand. It tore through the inferi like butter, slicing the rotting flesh into disgusting and smelly goop.
Just as the Death Eaters were about to overtake the Order, it happened. All of a sudden, all the zombies in the room stopped what they were doing and turned, as one, to look in Voldemort’s direction. A slow smirk spread across Cyrus’s face as he watched Voldemort’s face show confusion, surprise, and then such a righteous fury the student wanted to laugh. Really. Voldemort tried to backstab Yankovich and doesn't expect retribution?
Cyrus watched in amusement as the zombies tripped over themselves to get to Voldemort, chewing on the odd Death Eater along the way. The Dark Lord let out a furious scream of anger, tossing the matrix stone onto the floor before disapparating with a crack. The Death Eaters looked around themselves in confusion for a moment before following. Before the memory faded into nothing, Cyrus caught sight of Dumbledore destroying most of the zombies. Absently, he wondered if Voldemort had brought all one thousand with him because he doubted all of them would have fit in the hall. He smirked at the thought of Snakeface being attacked by zombies upon his arrival back in his dungeons.
The scene faded with a swirl of color and a physical wrenching sensation as Cyrus was thrown back into the real world.
The human leaned back on the heels of his feet for a moment before laughing softly to himself. The look on Voldemort’s face when his zombie army had lost control was priceless. If he knew how to do it, he would have the image framed and put on his wall.
‘Don’t fuck with a necromancer,’ Cyrus thought to himself in amusement as he jumped back into the memory for a second viewing.
-Toki Mirage-
Yo! This took longer than I planned, but it’s out now. I kept getting distracted or losing inspiration. It was quite annoying. I also had to go and reread the story and take notes, because I keep forgetting stuff. :P I’ve now got notes up to chapter 12. Woot!
And yes, I made the Ministry that incompetent on purpose and for a reason.
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If you'd like to ask questions about BS, or my other story LDBP, or find out more than what's on the page, please come visit my forum.
Edit Aug 16/09 – Amelia’s body mentioned. Hiring a professional necromancer mentioned.
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