I know this took forever. I just cuoldn't write it to save my life. THEN I found my happy place - and I could write again. I'm not like other writers. I dont have a 'muse' per-sa, but more like a 'muse place' or 'muse mood'. all my stuff comes from one very specific mood, with out it, I can not write, nor draw. sucks huh?
any-who, Usual disclamer; Own nothing, unless i break it, then its all mine. Harry Potter is not mine, thank god, who'd want it after JKR screwed it up? This story's concepts mine though. (dont get me wrong, i liked the first 4 stories and about 1/4 of the 5th, but when she made Harry into a pansy...well...)
on with the storie.
Ch 13
Harry read long into the night. Long past the time his pets had settled into slumber, Long after his elves had curled up in there small nook. He turned page after page, reading the book from cover to cover. Some times he would pause, pull out another book from his 'mind trunk', refer to something then go back to the ritual book.
When he finally put down the book and looked up, sometime in the very late night, or rather, the very early morning, his eyes held a twinkle. The idea that had prompted him to continue reading had fully formed. One he found very, very appealing. He would have to move carefully, but quickly, to achieve the results he wanted. Risky as it might be, it was a doable plan.
Setting the book back into storage, Harry gazed into the fire for an endless moment. He knew that Voldamort had a power structure similar to what he had just gone over. The only difference was that it was a structure set up without the support's true consent or trust. Granted the followers took the dark mark of their own accord, but the true purpose of the mark was kept from them, effectively making them victims. And THAT was what made that power base so unstable.
Harry grinned viscously. An unstable platform was prone to discord and weak spots. IF he could find the key support, and remove it, the whole structure would come toppling down around Riddles ears. It would strike a major blow to the Dark; hopefully giving the Light enough time to do what needed to be done.
Harry sat back in contentment. Finally a solid plan. Something more then just guess work and hypothesis. Something concrete to work on and towards. No worries about whether or not they were in the right area, or were being led in circles. The hunt for the Horcruxes could be put on the back burner as the plan to Pull Voldy's teeth could create an effective cease of hostilities.
Now He just needed to prepare. Contacts needed to be made and observations taken into account. The strongest support for Riddle had to be identified and enslaved.
As the last thought crossed his mind, Harry stilled. His entire body going ridged for a moment.
Then he laughed. Long, Low and deep. A laugh born of irony. Of knowing that something so problematic had been solved even before the problem had even been given up to the light of day.
Turning his head to the side, Harry gazed upon his ultimate prize. The single most defining blow of the upcoming war, and he had the very means in his hands. Handed to him on a gilded platter by none other then Riddle himself.
Oh how he loved magic. That wonderful swirling vortex of chaos and control. The very thing that had for so long helped to make his life horrid, now twisted back, brining into his hands the weapon to end the war itself.
His mother had been right. Magic had challenged him, Tested him. Picked him up and threw him against the rocks of adversity. And he had proven himself to the ultimate mistress. He proved his mettle, his determination to lift a burden so heavy Hercules would have stumbled. Many times over, he had lifted it, ran with it, performed feats so grand a lesser man would have given up to it. But not him.
Harry closed his eyes for the first time since coming back to his room from the Ally. But he didn't close them to sleep or rest. He closed them to pay his respect. Out into the either of the world, he thanked the magic, for what, he didn't really know. It was jumbled in his mind.
Gratitude for choosing him, instead of someone else. For laying on to him the burden so that others could live free, so those he called friend did not have to do what he had to do. For tempering his core time and again, with the challenges of his youth; his relatives, the stone, the chamber, BuckBeak, the maze, even the loss of his beloved Godfather. It was all given thanks. It had allowed him to evolve, to grow his mind to be able to flex and accept concepts that otherwise he would have dismissed.
He revealed his sorrow for his losses. His innocence, the friends and family that had been sacrificed to bring him this far, even sacrifices made by his relatives to raise him was given thanks.
He showed his determination that he would see it through, what ever the coast to him. HE forgave Magic its semi cruel nature, somehow projecting his understanding that sometimes to be merciful, it had to be vicious; for in the world regardless of how far they had come, it was still survival of the Fittest, and Magic was doing its best to make him the strongest Mother-Fucker around.
Magic listened, its eyes and ears trained on the small speck of light in its control. No other had stopped to thank it. TO appreciate the lengths it was willing to go to protect its children. IT hated to harm, to bring suffering. But nature was stronger and had laid down its own rules in the beginning. For a race to advance it need to overcome, to strive to be better. Nothing could be GIVEN it had to be earned.
Countless centuries had passed before its might, the rise of nations, of great Magic. Wielders of powers lost unto time. Over and over, it tried to work around Mother Nature, to give its chosen gifts. But each time, anarchy had erupted. In-fighting amongst its chosen few over who was 'favored' more, broke out time and again. Nature had stepped back, letting its child make its own mistakes, and learn by them. Setting the example for it to follow.
Magic learned. Magic began to understand. After watching the last of its gifts be almost destroyed, it finally took to heart that if it wanted Its creations to advance, they needed to earn the right. So It saved what remained of the Final Gift, and locked it away, to be unlocked when It's children had grown beyond what they had become.
So it set obstacles in the path. Problems for them to make solutions for. Tests that needed to be passed so they may gain the next level. And for a long while it had worked. Wizarding kind had flourished! Advancements made, great leaps of logic and understanding had been achieved. Its chosen leaders, had risen up to lead. Shepherding and guiding to the next step. But it had stopped. The people had grown lazy. Self-absorbed, and stagnant.
Magic despaired. Nature on the other hand, calmed Magic. Told it to watch. So Magic did. It watched as wars broke out. It watched people die. It cried over the children lost, and ached over those left behind. So focused on the many, It almost missed the spark.
The crescendo had been reached, and a choice had to be made like all other spices. To bear down and force itself forward, or to stay and die. To be come stronger or to fall behind.
The choices coalesced into two. One that wanted to destroy, and one meant to push.
One of its chosen children had become the Destroyer, trying to sew hate and fear. To rip asunder what ever it could find.
And of its own choice, the energy that Magic had granted its people, chose its own champion. One to not fear the future. To not fear death or destruction. The one it felt could help the wizards overcome the final obstacle in there way of the next step.
Magic had agreed, and done what it could. Setting smaller challenges to begin, and steadily increasing them. If its Avatar had broken, then it was not to be, but if it had survived the fire of its creation, it would be unstoppable.
Now the Chosen had passed another test. It realized its own forging. It thanked the powers that had made it and thanked its own creation, if only to make its world stronger.
Magic SANG. And sent, in It's own way, its acknowledgment to the chosen.
Harry smiled, feeling for a moment brushed by the warmth that he wielded. Knowing he was heard, He settled down and began to plan.
---
The sun just peaked over the horizon. Sending into the enchanted room rays of bright, cheery light. The new day dawned, waking the sleepers of the smallest bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive.
Alaya uncurled herself from her sleeping pillow and stretched out her legs. Wandering over to her new master she sat at his feet, and began to groom herself for the new day.
Ming slowly unwrapped her long tail from around her body, stretching out her wings, she greeted the new day with a small trill.
Hedwig, not being a morning owl, just hooted grumpily, and tucked her head further under her wing to escape the treacherous morning light.
The two elves in their nook, woke and began there preparations for the day. Winky taking to the stove and Dobby to prepare for his masters needs.
Belatrix, or Bella, opened her eyes and found a new day greeting her. Stretching to work out the kinks in her muscles, she too went to sit by her master's feet, awaiting his pleasure.
Harry looked down at Alaya and smiled as he heard her purr as she washed. Reaching down, he scratched behind her ears for a moment be fore sitting back up. Looking over at the other by his feet, Harry thought for a moment before wrinkling his nose.
"Bella, go take a shower and clean up. You smell like over used fish guts." He stated harshly. Even though he now had his weapon, he still did not feel like being kind yet.
"Yes, Master. Do you wish me to dress after as well?" She asked, her head bowed waiting his orders.
Harry paused, thinking. "Yes. We will be going out, and I have no desire for you to embarrass me with your nudity."
"Yes, master." Bella held back tears as her masters displeasure washed over her. She turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her to prevent her masters displeasure in seeing her nude form.
She turned on the shower heads and adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature. As she waited, she looked at her striped down form in the floor to ceiling mirror behind the door, looking for what might have displeased the man who now owned her.
Though not as thin as she was when she first left Azkaban, she could see where her own neglect had taken its toll on her body. Ribs sticking out from under her breasts. Skin so pale as to be almost transparent. A concave belly that looked almost frightening. Breasts that sagged in a pathetic size C-cup from the loss of the body fat that was used to once make them full D-cups. Even her face bore the strain of madness. Lines wrinkled the skin on her forehead and edge of her eyes, they pulled down the edges of her once full and pouty mouth into a mockery of a scowl. Once vibrant eyes stared back at her vacantly, no hint of the life they once held. All in all a very ugly woman.
Bella stepped under the water, letting it wash over her. She soaped up her hair, taking the time to do it right, so as to possibly please Harry. It was her one remaining glory. Long and luscious, it still held the promise of beauty. After cleaning her form, she stayed under the waters pulsing jets, thinking. Her world had been shattered less then twenty-four hours ago. Every thing she once knew turned on its head. Her master was not one she had chosen, but one that had ripped the right from her. And no matter what had changed for her, in her, she still admired the strength it took to do it.
Her previous lord had shown Strength by fear. Invoking terror to gain what he wanted, using coercion and cheating to take what he desired. Bella saw this was not true strength. She had joined the Death Eaters, following what she believed was as Strong leader, capable of carrying his followers to a future brighter then the past. But instead it turned dark, horrifying in its brutality and ugly and weak. But she had committed and she stuck to her choice. She had rolled the die of life and came up short.
'Maybe now,' she thought stepping out of the shower, toweling down her body, and slipping into cloths that had been laid out for her by an elf, 'I may have been given a new roll.' She closed her eyes for a moment, pausing in the process of opening the door to join her master, and said a silent thanks to the what ever had given her another chance. Straighten her shoulders; she walked out to meet her new future once more.
Magic smiled. Knowing its chosen had used his abilities well. To bring over an enemy, to cause them to re-evaluate and change their own mind, and chose to change their allegiance, was the hallmark of a great sage. It was truly the mark of a leader. Now it would bear watching to ensure the path was strewn with 'helpers' and 'rest spots'. Its chosen had survived its greatest obstacle; its own morals. It had succeeded where the destroyer had not. Now it was time to put the last hurdle onto the playing field, and hopefully, the Chosen would jump it as wonderfully as it has others before.
But first. A reward was in order for the Chosen. To bring a stronger will for the future.
A whisper into the folds of the dimensions and a shift on the plane Harry resided. A thud accompanied the drop of a heavy object.
A/N: Yes i know, a little of kilter from what i've previusly writen, but its needed. Trust me.
Still need that Beta though, So as an FYI to all my revewers, no flaming unless you feel you can fill that job. I use word spell check and what not, so NAH :p