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The Lord of Shadows Arc, Book Two: MorningStar	By : soul2singer Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3522 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

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Here it is for real! Chapter 2 of Book II!!!

Uhm, for this chapter. keep in mind that my German is Crap, my Lakota is worse.

The Wolf Nation is not a real nation or tribe. Some aspects of it are loosely based on the Lakota/Dakota/Nakota peoples of the Plains, but please do not think I am trying to represent those actual tribes with the Wolves.

Anna-beta did help filter out the over-Americanness of this, which was a great help. She also thought Snape was growling too much. I'm not so sure that's even possible, myself. . .

Anyway, on with the story. . . .

* * *

Justin Webb of the BBC once noted about open societies:

"It's just easier to criticise, it's easier to get information, it's easier to find people within the society who are immensely critical of it. Yet when you think of China, when you think of the Taliban...when you think of the situation in Iran it's just more difficult to get a handle on what's going on in those places. And I think there is a tendency, which we always have to guard against, of being tougher on democratic societies simply because it's easier."

Trinity never tried to minimise the sins of America's past. In fact, by taking us to the reservations first-- before the shining cities-- she ensured that nothing was swept under the carpet, that everything was upfront. She showed us the shame of America first, so that when we saw the wonder we saw later, we would understand: There is no progress without mistakes. There is no healing without acknowledging the wound. There is no learning without pain. It is a lesson we have remembered throughout the years.

The Prodigal Dragon

(Justin Webb quote originally from interview on BBC Radio Four Programme, "Feedback", January 2006)

Remus smiled in his sleep, the noise of the engine muted to a dull hum, absently nuzzling the other man's shoulder, the smell of sandalwood in his nose, teasing his contented dreams.

Severus glanced down from his reading to the head on his arm. A part of him wanted to shove the other man away, he was trying to read, after all. But another part was secretly pleased at the contact, and the corners of his mouth were tugged up into a small, almost non-existent smile. Then, before he knew it, he was leaning down, burying his nose light brown hair, gently pressing his lips to the other's head while inhaling the scent of bergamot and cardamom, his eyes closing briefly at the added contact.

A happy whimper from Remus brought him back to the present, and he glanced around briefly as he pulled back, relieved that no one seemed to have noticed his lapse.

He was wrong, however, since he didn't know about the thousands of nano-cameras circling through the air around him, all sending signals to Trinity, who was sitting in the front of the bus, driving by internal remote control while holding a conversation with Lisa Turpin's parents. She was able to do all these things at once not so much because she was part machine butbecause she was a machine that was also part female.

The bus turned down another road and with the harsh desert one hour behind them, they now found themselves surrounded by dramatic mountains and pines, and the bus gradually slowed to a stop by an open, empty field.

"All right everyone! Time for a picnic and our first firearms lesson! Last one off the bus is a rotten egg!"

* * *

Later that day, Harry stretched his arms, still somewhat sore from holding that stupid gun for so long, and having to brace against the recoil as the thing fired. After the lesson and lunch, they'd all packed up again and drove through the mountains to Salt Lake City, where they were now going through the genealogical indexes the Mormons had built up over the years.

It hadn't been very enlightening for Draco, since he already knew (and had memorised) large parts of his family history. But for Harry, the discovery of grandparents had made him realise that somewhere out there, he might actually have relatives worth knowing. When he'd made this comment, Trinity had smiled and said, "I certainly hope so."

Harry rubbed his sore elbows once more, regretting very much that they weren't allowed to use any magic at all for the first lesson, not even a simple Cushioning Charm, to help buffer against the recoil.

"After all," Trinity had said, "you never know when someone will block your magic. Always learn the Muggle way first."

It seemed that what she had said in the beginning -- the Muggle and magical societies were much more integrated here than it was in Britain. Harry was still trying to decide how he felt about that. He'd got so used to having everything neatly categorised, and now he was finding relevant news and information in the most unlikely of places-- like movies and cartoons. Who'd have thought that comic books and computer games were used as "hidden-in-plain-sight" teaching methods? Moreover, here Muggles and wizards shared the same government, schools, and even shops.

Thinking about that, Harry remembered hearing Trinity say something to Remus about going to get 'a wolfsbane' from Starbucks. What was taking so long?

Down the street, at one of the many Starbucks Muggles never happen to notice-- the ones with the Siren in green and bordered in black-- Trinity was introducing Remus to something he'd never dreamed of: Wolfsbane and chocolate, all at once.

"You see," she explained, "the plant in Chicago, which we'll visit when we're there, knows how to make very effective wolfsbane completely tasteless. Add caffeine to a dose, and the strength is doubled. Thus, the idea for the basic Wolfsbane Latte�wolfsbane, espresso, steamed milk and foam. Of course, we'll try something a little more involved for your tastes."

At this point they'd reached the head of the line.

"Hi, how are you today?" the perky girl behind the register asked.

"Er, ahm, just fine, thanks," Remus stammered. "How are you?"

She grinned. "I'm doing alright," she said. "Tip jar is overflowing, Kelly ain't working, and I got my paycheck. Life's good."

Remus chuckled at her honesty and turned to Trinity.

"What am I having?" he asked.

Trinity leaned over his shoulder and addressed the girl.

"He'll have a triple venti two shot wolfbane seven pump mocha. I'll have the same, without the wolfsbane."

"All right." The girl punched some numbers on her screen. "Can I have some identification of lycanthropy, please?"

Remus pulled out his dog-tags and handed them over.

"Will these do?"

"Oh, absolutely!" She took one of the tags and slid it through a long slot at the side of her screen. "You are Professor Remus Lupin of the Potter-Malfoy pack?"

Remus nodded.

"Very good," she said, and then turned to the side.

"I've got a triple venti double wolf seven pump mocha, and another just like without the wolf!" she called down.

From behind some large machines came the muted reply. "Two triple venti seven pump mochas, one with double wolf. Got it!"

She turned back. "Would you like anything else today?"

Trinity turned to Remus, who shrugged, then turned back.

"A couple things of chocolate covered graham crackers should do it."

The girl behind the register punched a few more numbers and Remus turned away to look at the caf�. The people here did seem to more magical then Muggle, but he couldn't be sure, because everyone wore what seemed to be variants on Muggle clothing. Trinity nudged his shoulder.

"Come on, up here."

Remus followed her a counter where the girl had placed the two cups.

"How do you know which one has the wolfsbane?" Remus asked.

Trinity turned her cup to the side to show that it was covered in scribbling written with a felt-tipped pen.

"See under the box for syrup? The one that says 'special?' My box is empty, meaning this is a drink that could be made at any type of Starbucks. Yours has a 2WB, indicating that it has magical ingredients, specifically two shots of wolfsbane."

"Ah," Remus nodded. "I suppose I should give it a try now, shouldn't I?"

Trinity grinned. "I promise, you'll love it. Very chocolaty with a taste of coffee."

Remus shrugged and took a sip. Surprised, he took another. "Are you sure there's wolfsbane in this?"

"Absolutely. When we're in Chicago, I'll make sure Severus knows what the secret ingredient is. Right now, I think we should let the suspense build."

Remus grinned and took yet another sip. "I wouldn't mind taking my wolfsbane like this all the time. I'll pester Severus until he learns to make it like this."

"I'll do all I can to help," Trinity replied solemnly.

* * *

The next couple of days followed a similar pattern, with firearms training at various scenic locations. Once they crossed into Montana, they also started with horseback riding. Draco was at an advantage here, having been in saddles since he was five. That was on Tuesday. On Wednesday, as they drove out of the mountains into the northern plains, the bus stopped again, in what could only be described as "the back end of nowhere."

Trinity herded everyone off the bus, then had them unload all their luggage.

"Are we going to walk from here?" Draco scowled.

Trinity snorted.

"Hardly. We're just changing vehicles for our approach to the Lakota Reservation. Bringing a bus full of whiteys onto a res isn't a very . . . polite thing to do."

Draco blinked, then made a show of looking around at the scenery.

"I see. And, ahm, what vehicle are we moving to?"

"It's not another vehicle, Draco, the bus itself is changing," Snape growled, eyes narrowed at the bus.

"Trust the spy to see it first.," Trinity grinned.

"See what?" Susan Bones asked.

"That the bus doesn't exist," said Snape irritably. "Somehow, she's made a thought form precipitate on the physical level."

"The wonders of nanotech-wizardy," Trinity sighed in mock wonder. "Watch close, as countless itty bitty robots go from making a bus," she clapped her hands and the bus exploded in a puff of metallic dust, "to making your very own custom hogs." The dust swirled, settled, swirled, and congealed into eleven sleek motorbikes, complete with matching helmets. "Nice, huh?"

Each motorbike was styled and coloured differently, and they already had customised bumper-stickers for decoration. Harry blushed a bit when he saw the "Parselmouths have forked tongues" sticker on what was apparently his bike, but felt better when he saw the "Werewolves make me howl!" one that was for his Potions teacher. Curious, he looked over to see what their guide had. Hers began with "It's all about:" but then flickered between "Drugs, sex, and rock and roll", "Edible Clothing", and "42" before finally settling on "Your Mom."

Strange.

It was very nice to learn how to ride a motorbike, Harry thought, particularly so since he'd inherited Sirius' bike last year, and it was now gathering dust at Grimmauld Place. But it was sort of lonely, even when surrounded by other riders. He was definitely glad that the bike back home had a seat behind the driver. That would be nice in the autumn, when he and Draco had come home.

The crossing onto the reservation lands had gone rather smoothly. After learning their destination, the man in the lorry at the border shrugged and simply said, "Either you're welcome or you're dead." And then they passed through, with little more said.

Now they were speeding their way across what Trinity called the "Northern Plains." And it was, rather, plain, enough so to only reminded Harry of how empty his stomach was. He hoped they'd stop for lunch soon.

Lunch eventually took place at a motorway service, called the Waffle House. It had more than just waffles, and was a bit on the greasy side, but the food was strangely satisfying and filling. Trinity informed them that there were Waffle Houses all over the country, but that this particular one was owned by the local tribe to help fund scholarships to send their young people off to college.

Soon they were off again, stomachs now full, taking rare turns on the roads which all looked alike. After a few more hours of riding through endless stretches of rolling nothingness spiced with a few odd cross-road towns, Trinity pulled them over again.

"Right," she said as they gathered round. "We're very close to the border now, so let me explain a few things first. To begin with, when we crossed onto the reservation, we were technically no longer in the United States, but it's understood that you are under my protection. Once we cross into Wolf Territory, I'm no longer your guide, I'm just as much a guest as you are. Less, in fact. They have invited you all to visit, and are graciously letting me tag along so I can resume my role on the other side. Got that?"

The group nodded.

"How do we know we can trust them?" Severus asked.

"Well, the way they see it, if invited guests would come to harm while under their care, it's a great loss of honour." Trinity grimaced. "So they'll do anything to protect you all while you're with them. I also have the feeling they would like to make some sort of deal with Harry and Draco, and that's not likely to happen if they're unhappy, is it?"

She turned to Remus.

"When we get there, you, Harry and Draco will take point. Harry and Draco 'cuz they're your pack leaders, and you because you're the only Were in the group. All right?"

"Right." He nodded.

"Ok, well, just this last bit." She flexed her fingers. "Watch real close, because with me, this is about as cool as it gets." With a gesture and a low murmur, the motorbikes began to stretch and wiggle, their forms morphing and moving like wet clay until . . .

"No," Severus said as his fingers confirmed what eyes and ears told him. " I can understand little machines that fall apart and then come back together to make different machines, but how do little machines make living, breathing horses?"

"That, Professor, is something even the US government doesn't even know I can do."

Harry and Draco glanced at each other, short thoughts zipping across each other's minds, but neither of them said a word as they all mounted. They started riding again, and Severus came up to them.

Did you hear . . .?

Yes, Professor. I think there's more to her than she's letting on.

She's keeping such secrets from the government she's supposed to be completely loyal to . . .

Indeed.

Laughing Crow Jones sat patiently on his mount, watching the approaching party. He'd been sure Trinity would have placed herself in the lead, and so was surprised when she was in the back of the group. Instead, the group was led by two young men and one older man. Even at the distance, 'Crow could tell he was a wolf as well.

"I do not see why we are letting these white people into our home," grumbled a voice beside him.

'Crow scowled. "They may look white, but look closer."

There was silence as his companions observed more closely.

"So the one is a wolf like us. So what?"

"So the Elders have said we will welcome them as our relatives." 'Crow growled. "They have explained all they need to explain, so stop your stupid grumbling."

There were a few muted whimpers behind him, but all were silent again. As 'Crow watched, he noticed that the young one with the dark hair had the same somewhat glazed look in his eyes that his teachers had when they listened to the wind.

"Don't you see?" he murmured. "His skin may be white, but he isn't white on the inside. He is . . . wakan . . ."

'Crow nudged his horse closer as the party approached, observing the play of shadows on the dark one's face.

"Harry Potter!" he called out. "You have the look of one who listens to the wind. What does she say?"

Just at that moment, the wind shifted, bringing a sudden blast from the north, before shifting again to more moderate warmth.

"She reminds me that though it is the very height of summer, there is little between myself and the North Pole save for the odd tree here and there." There was a sparkling in the boy's eye that made 'Crow grin.

Harry spoke again, with less volume now that he was closer.

"She also says that I must be facing some formidable people if they are enough to make our guide ride in back."

'Crow nodded. "She is trying more than most washichu, I will acknowledge that. By the way, I am called Laughing Crow, my companions are Sleepy Bear and Never Smiles."

Harry smiled in greeting.

"Well, you already know who I am, and this is my husband, Draco Malfoy, and my adopted uncle and also� a dear friend, Remus Lupin."

After the introductions had been made, 'Crow led the group for nearly an hour over mostly flat terrain, at last reaching their destination. Everyone stopped their horses on the slight rise, startled by the sight of over a thousand golden eyes shining in the sun, looking right at them.

"Welcome," Laughing Crow said, "to the summer grounds of the Icamna Thioshpaye Shungmanitu Thanka Oyate."

"The wha--?" Draco spluttered.

'Crow grinned at his discomfort, then translated. "Icamna Thioshpaye is like, Storm Group-that-lives-together, Shungmantitu Thanka is wolf, and Oyate is Nation. Storm Clan of the Wolf nation." He twisted around and addressed Trinity for the first time.

"Come on, Coyote-girl, let's see what the hen-house thinks of you!"

* * * * *

Ginny Weasley carefully held the tray as she ascended the stairs to the room where Gregory Goyle slept. He'd been eating a bit more recently, which was good, but he still didn't talk much. In fact, the only people he spoke to were Ginny herself and Neville.

Gingerly, she nudged the door open with her toe, and sighed with relief when she saw that the Slytherin was awake. She tensed again, however, when she saw that Ron was with him.

"Ron! When did you get home?" she asked as she settled the tray on Greg's lap.

"Mum picked me up early this morning. Now that I'm at six hours, I can stay here most of the day, though I've got to Floo back at night for a few weeks still."

"That's brilliant, Ron." Ginny grinned. "I see you've met the newest member of our family?"

"Yeah," Ron grinned. "I thought we could compare scars, you know, 'oh, you think that one's bad, look at this one!'"

Ginny sighed. Boys were so . . . "Who's winning?" she asked gamely.

"It's a tie," Greg whispered. "Mine are worse, but he has more."

"That's . . . um, good," Ginny decided. "Neville will be up later, he's weeding Harry's garden again. I'll let him know you're home when he gets back, Ron."

* * * * *

The stallions were restive. Not that it mattered, they would do as they were told in the end. Even Blaine would come around, or else be trampled in the dust. The Mares had made their decision, and Firenze would lead, or no one would.

The Mother looked out over the valley. The birds were singing, which was always a good sign. But what they were singing. . .

Birdbrains . . .the Mother thought. They have no idea what they're singing about.

She looked up, straight at the sun her eyes could no longer see. The wind was singing too. And it was far wiser.

* * * * *

Rebecca Rosen was studying hard, humming arias-- punctuated by brief muttering-- under her breath as she worked her way through her gematria homework.

"Well," she muttered. "It equals twenty six, like it's supposed to. I just did it in a few other languages too. . ."

A tapping at her window brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see a raven on the ledge, with a letter tied to its leg. Wondering who in the world would be sending her a letter using a raven she opened the window and let the bird in.

She quickly untied the note, and the bird left without waiting for a treat or a reply as she looked at the address and recognised the handwriting.

"Uncle Anton!" she breathed as she tore the letter open.

Dearest Rebecca,

Congratulations on being chosen as the representative from Israel to Britain this autumn! I can't tell you how proud I was when I saw the announcement. Of course, I don't know who else they could have chosen-- your musical and magical skills are quite prodigious, and will be very valued in the coming year, and beyond. I still tell people about your singing at your Bat Mizvah.

I, too, shall be at Hogwarts this year, though I have yet to finalise arrangements. I'm going for many of the reasons that we're all going, but I have my own too. Watching over you, for one. I know you can take care of yourself, but I made your grandfather a promise, and I intend to keep it. Speaking of your grandfather, tell him to give you the dagger he has when you come to England-- it is time it was returned to its owner.

Yes, you silly girl, this does mean what you most likely think it means. I believe I have found my beloved Richard, though he has been reborn as a she. Still, she will be there, and will need to be awakened to her past before she can help build the future. This will be painful for her, and I trust, dear one, that I -- and more importantly she -- will have your support through this process.

Convey my deepest affections to your entire family.

Auf Wiedersehen und Mazel Tov!

Your Uncle Anton

Rebecca giggled happily before running down the hall to stare into the curio cabinet where her grandfather kept the dagger Uncle Anton had written about. She sighed dreamily as she looked at it, and that is where her family found her half an hour later, still wistfully smiling upon the white silk that only partially hid the ugly black swastika.

* * * * *

The Ardennes were always so pleasant in the summer. Anton loved to walk though the dappled sunshine, letting the breeze toss his thoughts as it would.

Today, he was absorbed in thought about the meeting he'd just finished. Viktor Krum had, after the necessary assurances, been very agreeable to his plan. A few more meetings would be required to hammer out the details, but Anton rather thought that everything had gone well. Thinking of things going well, he wondered if little Rebecca had received his letter yet. Jerusalem wasn't that far away.

Anton stopped, and then wondered why he'd done so, before the scenery registered.

Ah, this place. His feet always brought him to this particular clearing on this mountain. If any place on earth was his home, it was this small patch of wilderness. What was it some said? Oh yes, Home is where the heart is.

A home that was currently being invaded by one naked werewolf and a bound prisoner. Anton seethed at the sight. Fenrir Greyback had no class, something that many werewolves actually did possess. Wolves were a dignified species for the most part, and most werewolves picked up on that. Except for this lowlife schweinehund and the packs he influenced.

Anton watched from forest shadows as Fenrir threw the young man into the clearing. He'd never understood this particular werewolf and his rather. . .naked ways. Being a vampire Anton understood the obsession with blood, but still, this was just . . . disgusting. Never mind that it was his clearing on his mountain. This simply wouldn't do.

"What have I told you, Fenrir, about my territory?"

The werewolf froze at the unexpected sound, snarling.

"No one claims this place! There are no markings!"

"This is a sacred space, you know that," growled Anton. "Leave your prisoner and I might let you live for now."

"Who are you?!" Fenrir demanded, even his sharp sense of smell told him nothing of the man still hidden among the trees. "This is no holy place!"

Anton stepped into the clearing, still shadowed, voice frosted with distain.

"This is my chapel, my shrine, my cathedral."

Fenrir growled in the wrong direction.

"There are no markings," he repeated.

Anton said nothing for a moment, examining the young man from the shadows. He had been bitten, but the teeth marks were human shaped. Simply barbaric. . .

"I should have gassed you when I had the chance," Anton murmured behind Fenrir as he pulled his Luger and loaded it with one silver bullet. "I suppose now I'll have to do this the way my liebchen once did, and put you out of your misery."

Fenris spun, and finally saw Anton.

"You!" he gasped in disbelief. "You should be-- "

"Dead? I know." Anton smiled, elongated fangs catching the wolf's surprised eyes. "So should you, but that interfering schleimscheisser Mengele stayed my hand. And later, I was too busy looking after the little ones. A mistake on my part." He cocked the gun. "Easily rectified, though."

"You shouldn't!"

Anton frowned. "Why not? You are a barbaric, failed attempt at an �bermensch, while I am at least somewhat civilised. and this fellow you've mauled needs help; I don't wish to have you dogging our steps." He levelled the gun and aimed.

"We're both witchbreed!" cried Fenrir in alarm.

Anton scowled.

"No, I'm not." As he pulled the trigger, Fenrir finally thought to Dispparate.

With a tired sigh, Anton put the Luger away, muttering about the wasted silver.

"You all right, friend?"

The young man nodded around his gag as Anton bent down to free him.

"My thanks," the jungling said once he could speak. "Bill Weasley, pleased to meet you."

* * * * *

Hedwig gazed over the grounds, watching the gnomes in the garden, and the fledgling who was managing them. Although he couldn't be considered a fledgling much longer, none of her boy's friends could be considered that anymore.

She missed him, though she understood it was good for him to go for a while. The courteous, if somewhat distant, eagle last spring had told her that. She could tell her boy wasn't learning to hunt right, and the eagle said that's why he had to go away for a moon. It was good that he would go, then, but it still made her sad. Despite so many setbacks, he'd learned to fly. It wasn't right that he had also to learn to be a predator. And the game he hunted . . .

She puffed her feathers against a sudden chill, and shook her head to clear her thoughts, deciding to think on something else. Buckbeak, for example.

It was rather nice, she thought determinedly, that he had finally been cleared of all charges and given his freedom. He was a nice fellow, if somewhat stuffy and pompous--Hedwig thought this trait must come from the eagle in him, since horses were generally affable creatures given to gossip, though they certainly weren't as bad as sheep. Sheep could chatter forever. But even sheep had nothing on chickens or songbirds. The poor dears never shut up, and still they wondered why they were always being eaten by something or another.

But it was nice, she mused, that such gossip had spread about her boy. The whole world was singing it, and for Hedwig it meant that she could hunt without worrying about someone stealing her prey or food. No more fighting over mice was very pleasant indeed.

And besides, as pretty as the song was, those idiot birds had no idea what they were singing about. They would, though, and even the eagles and rooks would join in that song.

Dear Hermione,

Wow, so much has happened in this short time. I hope Ron is doing well, and both Draco and I send our regards to Goyle.

I was very upset to hear about Stan-- he's a decent sort, just not too bright. I hope everything goes well with Bill, too. I've heard the werewolves in France are more aggressive than ours, definitely not as sociable as the ones we're meeting over here.

We stopped in Salt Lake City, a place with lots of genealogical records. I've started a family tree for myself-- it'd be nice to know if I had any family worth knowing, now that I no longer have to associate myself with the Dursleys very much. By the way, our guide, Trinity, took care of them right quick. Remind me to tell you about her. She's a techno-witch-- that should keep you busy until we get home, since I'm sure you've already finished the Agrippa.

I'm also learning how to use a gun. I can see you cringing about that, but I'm sure you'll realise how useful it could be. I'm not fond of it, especially since we're being discouraged from using magic while we're training. Trinity says we should always learn the Muggle way first, since we never know when someone may neutralise our magic. What a pain--literally!

Otherwise, we've been learning a lot of history about the areas we travel through, and we've been watching a lot of telly. Did you know they teach elementary magic in ordinary cartoons? Together with the Japanese, the Americans've devised a system of magical education with animation at all levels. All the movies and anime that we have on our schedule is just another way of learning different types of magic.

Also, some questions Trinny wants us to think about; I'm passing them on to you and Ron so we can discuss it when we come back: Why are magical and Muggle worlds separate to begin with? Why are we taught to only do magic with our wands when all of our magic was originally wandless? Where did the Dementors come from? And finally, why is the European Society of Magic stuck in the eighteenth or nineteenth century?

Say hi to everyone for us!

Harry

From: The Space Between: The Correspondences of Harry Potter, vol. II
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The Lord of Shadows Arc, Book Two: MorningStar