The Erlking

Ok, I know it’s been ages, and I know I promised to write chapters while I was at my dads and then post them… but I didn’t.

I broke my dads computer… so I spent a lot of time trying to fix it… then it was mad busy trying to find time to see some old friends of mine… Sorry.

But I am updating now (and at least it hasn’t been four months, like with some other stories of mine).

Oh yeah, did a one-shot for Battle Royale if anyone reads that – please look. It’s called Creatures Lie Here.

Yay Malfoys!…

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Words: 2,125
Chapter 5
Faerie Tales
August 1990.

In some places, some people would be thrilled to learn that magic was real. Some would be suspicious or cynical. Others might be curious or nervous. But it really depended on the type of magic. Would you enjoy magic tricks? Would the site of centaurs and mermaids amaze you? Might you enjoy a ride on a Comet 360, or would you be afraid to fall off?

And if you saw a fairy would you giggle and let it dance around your head?

Some might. Some might even reach out and try to grab the fairy. Hold it, and squeeze it and cuddle it to your chest or cheek. At least, that’s what Draco Malfoy tried to do. But, as his fist shot forward to catch the Faerie it hissed at the blond child. Its black, almost see-through wings fluttered lightly as it flew out of reach, its lips drawing back to reveal a mouth full of sharp, blackened teeth. Draco paid the threat no mind. His hand shot forward again and he laughed as he caught the Dark Faerie by its long black hair.

He held it lightly, clasped between two hands, because if he held it too tight the briars that held its dress of dead leaves on would cut into his palms. Smiling, Draco began to walk back towards his parents.

Draco lived in Malfoy Manor. The estate had been in the Malfoy family for generations, and it was hidden from the Muggles by a number of powerful repelling charms. His parents, Lucius and Narcissa, were walking the grounds together, talking quietly as their son ran towards them. It was relatively late, but it was a full moon and Draco had always enjoyed watching the full moon rise. And, Merlin help his parents, but they indulged him.

“Look, look!” He exclaimed holding his cupped hands forwards. As he began to open them, the ten-year-old boy let out a wail and ripped his hands towards his body. One palm was dripping blood, and the Faerie was freed and hovering in front of the child’s face, its eyes narrowed.

Its teeth were blood strained, as was its mouth, and Draco cradled his bleeding palm as Narcissa Malfoy dragged her son away from the Faerie. Lucius’ wand was drawn and pointed at the fluttering creature. The Faerie merely snarled in return. As Lucius was about to cast a spell, a handful of Faerie appeared from the surrounding trees, all of which hissed and gnashed their teeth at the trio of Wizards.

They turned to the one who had bitten Draco and spoke. While some fairy tales say that fairies sound like the tinkling of bells, or wind chimes, but when these Faerie spoke, their words sounded like notes from an Organ3; low, ominous and depressing. Draco’s face was pressed against his mother’s side, low sobs emitting from him, his chest heaving. Lucius still had his wand pointed at the creatures, but now he looked less sure of himself.

As one, the swarm of Faerie flew away from the Wizards and went to find the rest of the Hunting party.

Lucius’ wand slowly lowered, so his arm was hanging by his side. His grip was still tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Narcissa came towards him, her hand resting on his cheek. “Were they what I think they were?”

“I believe so.” His voice was tight, his face pale.

“Daddy,” the child whispered, his uninjured hand held tightly in his mother’s. “It bit me. Why did the fairy bite me?”

“Why were they here?” Narcissa asked anxiously, ignoring her son for the moment. “Do you think they wanted Draco?”

“He isn’t ill, Cissa.”

She wrung her hands together, letting go of Draco’s. “But it’s late, and if they’re hunting… Shouldn’t we put him to bed?” Her long white-blond hair was twisted in a plait, hanging down to her waist, but she nervously ran her hand through it, forgetting it was tied, and pulled half of it loose. Lucius, not enjoying being nervous at all, took her hands in his and held them still.

“If they’re here it’s too late for that. Salazar, when the Muggles started to go missing, I thought, for a moment I thought our Lord might be returning, Cissa. I was worried that he hadn’t called for me.” He let out a relieved chuckle. “At least I’m not in ill favour.”

“What do we do?” She looked down at him. He had walked a little away from them, annoyed with being ignored, and was wiping his bloody hand on his robes. “Dragon, stop that.” She scolded, and he immediately stopped, turning to her with wide eyes.

“We should send him away.”

“What?” She cried, unbelieving her husbands words.

“He could live with Severus! It’ll only be an extra year at Hogwarts. I’m sure he’d enjoy it. And if Dumbledore was the only person our lord feared, surely the Erlking would feel the same?” He let her hands go, tucking his wand back into his pocket and brushing down his robes. “I’ll fire-call Severus right now.”

As Lucius made his way inside, to his study, Narcissa watched her only child as he began to chase something else. He giggled and squealed as he caught something in his hands. Again he ran towards his mother to show him her prize. Narcissa held her breath as he began to reveal what he’d caught. With a relieved sigh, she watched the butterfly disappear from sight, before ordering Draco back into the house.

XXX

That same night, the Erlking searched for souls to steal. What he found, instead, was a Werewolf. He was riding upon his beast, his beloved cradled in his arms, held tight to his chest as they rode out on Faun’s first Hunt. The Thestral reared back, its front legs kicking out, almost unseating the crown of thorns upon the creature’s head. Audenarde’s eyes narrowed, unseen beneath his hood. A lock of jet-black hair fell forward as Harry’s hand moved to cling on to the man’s cloak. “What was that?” The child whispered.

He scanned ahead of him, the fog that accompanied him swirled and rose, rushing forward into the trees and enveloping whatever hid in the bushes. A howl went up, sending the birds from their hiding places, and causing the Thestral to rear again. The Erlking stretched out his hand, his voice was low and hypnotic as he spoke. “Come to me, come forth to me, show yourself to us.”

Slowly, hesitantly, a paw came forward, a leg stretched out after it, emerging from the forest as a second paw followed it. Soon, sitting on its haunches in front of the Erlking and his beloved, a Werewolf appeared.

“Hello Remus Lupin,” the Erlking greeted with a smile full of flashing teeth. Harry turned in the creature’s arms and greeted the Werewolf as well. At the sound of Harry’s voice, Remus stood and moved forward, sniffing around the Thestral a it caught the scent of his best friends child. “Ah, I see you recognize Harry.” The Erlking grinned as the Werewolf reared back and let out a blood-curdling cry.

Before he could attack the Erlking, Morfis and Galhar appeared from the mist, a club each, and struck Remus across the head. He slumped unconscious to the floor. The two Huntsmen tied him to the back of a Thestral, and they walked behind the Erlking as he rode ahead. He summoned the Dark Faerie and he whistled for his Hounds, and together they returned to the Eternal Lodge.

The night was rather more prosperous than he had expected. Harry would be well protected and cared for, by both the Werewolf and the Erlking himself. For now, they had found his beloved a teacher of magic, not of the Erlking’s kind.

XXX

It had taken over three years, but finally, he thought he might be ready. He had searched long and hard, he had studied every reference to the Erlking that he could find, and he had even memorized the poem by heart. Albus Dumbledore now considered himself an expert in the topic of the King of the Alders. And as an expert, he felt it was time to meet the creature himself.

He was going to summon the Erlking forth, and demand the safe return of Harry Potter. He, Severus and Minerva McGonagall stood, each positioned as one point of a triangle. Each held a candle in one hand and a branch of an Alder tree in the other. As Albus began to chant, Severus raised his head and stepped out of position.

“Excuse me, Sir. The wards around my rooms are going off, I must see what’s wrong.” Because it was summer and there were no worrisome, nosy students present at the castle, it could only mean that someone was fire-calling him. And the only person who did that was Lucius. And if Lucius fire-called without warning, it meant something was wrong with his Godson. “Excuse me.”

“Ah, well,” Dumbledore said with a shrug. “Send over the first Professor you see then, will you?” Severus nodded and swept from the room. As he passed the kitchens, Professor Quirrell emerged.

“Ah hello, Severus!”

Quillius. Looking forward to your trip? Where are you going again?” Severus asked, feigning interest as the man began to prattle on about leaving for Albania in two days. “Studying Vampires, well, fascinating.” Severus rolled his eyes when the other man wasn’t looking. “Albus wants you in the Great Hall.”

“Jolly good, have a good night,” he waved as he walked off. Severus rolled his eyes again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Quirrell; it was just that the man was such a weak-minded fool. If you told him the sun was green, he’d probably believe you, too afraid to argue.

“Lucius?” Severus called as he warded the door to his chambers. He moved towards the living area and found Lucius sitting on his couch. “What happened?”

“The Hunt rode through Wiltshire earlier this night. The Dark Faerie were after Draco.” Severus moved to sit beside his closest friend. His hand squeezed Lucius’ shoulder comfortingly.

“How can I help?”

“Hogwarts is the safest place in England.” Lucius took Severus’ chin in both of his hands, turning Severus’ head so he could look directly in his eyes. “Let Draco come live here, with you. I’ll compensate you, I swear it.”

“I don’t want your money Lucius.” Taking the answer as a ‘no’ Lucius looked crestfallen. His expression lifted however when Severus spoke again. “I swore at his naming ceremony to protect him, just as I did for Potter. You don’t have to pay me to protect him, Lucius.”

“Thank you my friend.” Lucius hugged the Potions Master, holding tightly to his friend in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. Severus, uncomfortably, patted the blond on the back, but bore the hug without a word. “Thank you.”

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, Albus was half way through his chant: it was a mixture of Latin and Old English, blended together three hundred years ago by a cleric in China who was desperate to find the cure for his sick brother, and only found death. But Albus was sure it would work this time. The cleric had been weak, unprotected, but Albus was one of the best Occlumens ever to exist. The Erlking’s magic would not work on him.

As the mist began to swarm into the Great Hall through the windows and the doors, Dumbledore realized he had made a grave mistake. He may be an Occlumens, as was Severus and Minerva… but Quillius certainly wasn’t. “No!” He screamed as the fog crashed towards the Defence Professor. It rose high, like a wave and slammed down upon him, knocking him to the ground. By the time Albus made his way towards the fallen man, McGonagall by his side, the mist had cleared and Quirrell was pale and still.

His body bent at a strange angle, his eyes were wide with fright and his mouth hung open, as if he were silently screaming for help. As Albus bent down to close the dead man’s eyelids, the Erlking’s laugh echoed through the Hall, and Dumbledore knew when he had lost.

He stood tall, facing off against the creature that was one with the remaining fog and held out his wand. “Just the battle, Erlking, not the war.” He murmured, but the creature only laughed and disappeared in a swirl of mist.

Apparently, Lord Voldemort would not be possessing poor, unfortunate, weak-minded Quillius Quirrell this August. But the Dark Lord had other ways, and other means, so really nobody was worse off than the Professor himself.

And the Erlking’s beloved now had two teachers. How – fortunate.

XXX

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3 Organ – I’m relatively certain that’s the right word. The huge, big piano-things with the long golden pipes, where the music comes from. And they play the funeral march on it at church (but they might not any more, it’s been decades since I went).

Words:
Chapter 6
The Uninvited Guest
November 1990.
COMING SOON…

Thanks for reading guys. I hope you still love me enough to review… Voldemort will be in the next chapter…