Umm... has it really been a year? Damn, umm... I'm sorry about that. Half of it could probably be attributed to my innate laziness and poor time management, but also just finishing college, college itself, summer camp job, life, and making regular videos for my youtube channel really didn't let for me to write.
Until now.
I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD EVERYONE!
I'll try to be more present in writing now, but as I've learned I'm dog-shit at keeping promises, so that's the best I can leave you with. That and a 6,000 word chapter.
I'm in the process of editing the previous chapters, and have done up to Ch3 right now. As of the moment, nothing major has changed -mainly it's just me making it look better and clearing up a few inconsistencies/grammar errors. I'll probably hit on Chapter 5 the hardest, especially Dumbledore's segment, but I'll tell you I don't plan to change anything major -probably just clarify some ideas and motivations by re-writing some things.
-These edits won't be necessary to read at all, I'm doing it for me mainly.
-I'll probably edit this chapter in the future as well for errors. (I'm sure they're there, hiding, waiting...)
So now, a year after the last chapter (0.0), here's Chapter 6 - Arrival
And as usual check the bottom for more AN's.
Obvious disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or Harry Potter.
XXXXXXXXXX
Arrival was something Harriet anticipated.
The act of traveling and actually landing… not so much.
Magical travel had never cooperated properly with her. Portkeys were a menace, always throwing her on the ground in an undignified heap when gravity violently reasserted itself. For Floo travel, while she wasn't uncomfortable with walking into flames (which is strange as it's against natural human instinct), it constantly shot her out at disorientingly high speeds, trying its damnedest to make her slide out on her back. The saving grace of Floo was she eventually learned to stay upright upon exit.
The only two methods that she was fine with were apparition and booms. She figured it had something to do with the fact that both worked under the intention of being all about the self –something she desired to have full control of. Apparition especially was solely about the self, with the three D's taught, so she didn't have to rely on external forces working with her. Admittedly with brooms, they had the downside of being open to tampering when someone/thing tried to control it whilst she was on it. But usually she had full control over the broom.
All other magical travel needed to rely on something else to work, and they all apparently hated her.
So in retrospect, she should've known that traveling via ritual magic would follow the trend.
Oh the ritual worked, but the pain was neither expected nor welcome. Every nerve in her body lit up with magical overload from the arcane forces battering her. It was something that she couldn't fully anticipate. Harriet vastly underestimated it – and even that was understating it. Her body felt like it was trying to dissolve from the inside-out. Each individual cell was jostling, crawling, just that far away from unbinding and completely disintegrating her corporeal form. She felt like she was dying. The pain was more than the Cruciatus curse.
Nonetheless, her failsafe worked as intended.
The shard of Flamel's stone remained clutched in her left hand. Its magic was drained, now merely being another rock - its purpose served. The magical energy had activated through her bloodstream, continually restoring Harriet's body, fighting against the ritualistic forces warring to destroy her very essence. It's magic was enough to contain herself together.
However, there was a time limit. There was only so much magic it held: a literal shard of its whole potential. Eventually it would run out and she would be erased from existence… or worse.
But it didn't need to last forever, just long enough for her to arrive.
Abruptly, the chaos ended.
The pain took a different form when her face forcefully reacquainted itself with the ground. Physics and it's application upon a moving body with moderate velocity caused her to fully bounce, and then roll in an uncontrolled jumble, before coming to a merciful, yet still painful, halt.
Molten yellow eyes stared up at a blue sky through tree leaves, unseeing. Her mind was in shambles from sensory overload, unable to leave the state of being completely and utterly summarized by the word: ow. Her throat ached and scratched, every inch of her felt sore, she was struggling to catch her breath, and…
And…
She never felt more ecstatic.
"It… it worked…" Harriet finally croaked, her lips pealing back into a gleeful smile. "It worked! Hah! Hahahaha!" She started laughing from the euphoria coursing through her, even though it hurt and she barely had enough air to continue. But she didn't care. She was free! And she would bloody well keep laughing for as long as it suited her.
Eventually she stopped, merely content now to gaze upwards into that sapphire sky above, briefly checking her surroundings. She was no longer in a grassy plain surrounded by the standing stones of Stonehenge. A forest was her current environment. An already wide smile widened.
"I'm free… I'm free…" I'm free from manipulative headmasters. Free from 'dark lords'. Free from corrupt ministries. I'm free to do whatever I want, to get whatever I want – whatever I desire… She chuckled once more before rolling over slowly and gently worked herself off of the ground on unsteady legs, groaning and hissing escaping her mouth unbidden from the residual pain.
Harriet reoriented herself before searching for her wand, finding it in the grass next to a familiar stone fragment. As she grabbed her wand, she inspected the stone. It was coal black, and when she picked it up a few flakes crumbled off. "Well, that's the end of that," Harriet muttered and then absentmindedly flicked the once precious magical stone over her shoulder into the woods, not bothering to see where it landed.
Now, time to get to business. Harriet had a plan for when she arrived. She had no idea what to expect or what dangers looked, so she had to be on guard. First was to find some sort of intelligent life and hope they were both A: humanoid and B: able to speak. Not that she would have an issue if she were to meet aliens (though technically she would be the alien in this case –a discussion for another time) but Harriet was unashamed to admit she would prefer humanoids to blob creatures... or spiders. Thankfully, any potential language barrier wouldn't be much of an issue thanks to the translation charm. While said charm is initially complex and requires a certain level of mental discipline (which was why many English witches and wizards don't/can't use it) once one managed it, it becomes easy to cast with practice.
And Harriet was certainly not lacking in the brains department.
Going back to finding intelligent life, one of the best ways to find it was to find their homes. Their towns. Their cities.
In other words: Civilization.
Harriet held her wand in the palm of her hand and silently commanded the spell to point her North. The wand turned before pointing lightly ahead-left. Her next command was to civilization. While vague commands such as that were iffy, she didn't have much to work with, so it was better than nothing. The wand spun twice before gradually settling in far right to her. However it wavered, as if still scanning or uncertain. Harriet shrugged to herself, knowing the command was imprecise. Good enough. She started walking on unstable legs, still weak from the ritual.
The first leg of her journey was marked with her trying to get her body to start working properly again. The ritual travel took a bit more out of her than she anticipated, so she took it slow, stretching frequently and rubbing her body to stimulate her blood. As time went on, her pace quickened until she felt like she was back in her own body again.
Harriet wasn't idle or solely focused on this though. She was keeping watch and making observations about this new world. The sun above (if this world followed Earth's rotation) hinted it was later in the afternoon, day slowly turning to night. It showed that Harriet had a time limit before she needed to find a suitable place to camp. The terrain was forested and mainly flat, with a few rocky overlooks in the distance and a couple of hills. She'd heard a few birdcalls so at least she knew there was wildlife, though she would keep a close watch for anything threatening.
Knowing she was in a new world with unknown dangers was thrilling. On Earth, the dangers she faced were not of her choosing. In all honesty, she didn't mind too much that Voldemort was trying to kill her: that was his goal (aside from taking over the wizarding world or something), and there was a sense of clarity, of directness, to it. It also added a bit of a challenge, a benchmark, for how strong she needed to get to be at least his equal.
However, it wasn't solely Voldemort she had to contend with.
The added manipulations of Dumbledore meant Harriet didn't have any choice in her life. Never could she fight Voldemort because she desired it, but because she was being forced –groomed to. She never would've had full control over her future if she had stayed, as the old bastard would've twisted every move. Everything she could've done back there would have been watched and probably influenced by his hands –directly or otherwise. Freedom of choice was gone.
Hints and nudges are his preferred method rather than heavy-handed techniques (not that he didn't use them). Though he was more of a hands-off mechanist –as in he created the 'thing', wound it up and let it go, watching and only moving it and obstacles if it were about to fail.
The 'thing', however, was herself and other people. Whole societies even.
Now though… there was no higher power watching everything, testing and challenging her whenever it suited them. No one that could control her life and those around her. It was liberating. It was thrilling to experience life that she was now in control of. Compounded by the fact that she was in a new world with dangers she knew not added to the giddiness she felt.
It was intoxicating, and while normally she would clamp down on the euphoria, a little indulgence could be allowed for her victory.
As she walked, there was a bit of a spring in her step.
Right before her leg cramped from overexertion.
Time passed and twilight started to creep in, dimming the light.
Harriet was sitting on a bolder in yet another clearing, with her shoes off next to her, rubbing her sore feet, feeling more than a little irritated at herself and her body. Of all things, I forgot to wear good hiking shoes. Or even half-decent walking shoes. And to make things worse, I completely forgot I could transfigure my shoes into something wearable until an hour or two ago. 'Better late than never' I guess? If only my leg muscles were better off. I would think walking up and down the stairs at Hogwarts would give me a little bit more leg muscle endurance… It's unfortunate I couldn't bring my Firebolt with me, but there was only so much 'excess' magic I could bring without risking destabilization of the ritual.
Aside from her money-purse filled with Galleons, and her wand, the only other magical item was a bottomless-satchel with basic necessities -no magical items in it. Even if they were contained inside, the ritual had a high chance of destabilizing the charms for the satchel if there were other magical items in. Best-case scenario would've been the satchel imploded and annihilated everything inside the bag. Worst case… well, it's probably best not to think about what could've gone wrong if a bag that's charmed to be bottomless, i.e. infinite, affected a ritual that pierces through the multiverse, which is also theoretically infinite.
Those are the dangers of magic they should've taught in school.
Inside said bag, she had all the supplies necessary for at least a week in the wild, courtesy of Kreacher discreetly getting everything on her behalf – including books on magic so she could continue to learn. The books themselves had been checked if they could be transported; all charms and enchantments that could be removed without harming the books were, and anything that had permanent or otherwise active magic that couldn't be lifted were left behind, so now all she had were 'normal' books… albeit with unusual content.
Using the bolder she was currently sitting on as a wall, Harriet had set up her camp – a new experience for her, as she'd obviously never gone camping with the Dursleys (as if they'd do something so primitive), and the only other close example was when she was with the Weasley clan for the Quiddich World Cup. She knew the general concept, but putting it into practice was interesting. Thankfully with magic it was much easier, so she could direct where things needed to go while stretching and massaging her sore muscles and feet.
A small, magically erected one-person tent was to be her shelter for the night (to her minor shame, she couldn't figure out the poles without magic). It wasn't a magically expanded tent, for previously explained reasons, but Harriet didn't mind as she didn't need the space. There was a campfire with a pot of water hanging above it, getting ready to boil. There was also a fold out table and a camping chair for her later when she wanted to eat, along with utensils.
The food was freeze-dried camping food -the 'just add hot water' kind- but she also packed away some fruit before the day of the ritual without anyone at Grimmauld knowing, and once she set up camp she cast some preservation charms on them so they would stay relatively fresh.
However, something she didn't plan for was the soreness she felt. Quiddich and walking up and down Hogwarts' stairs was good for her stamina, but it was a different type of exercise than hiking/walking for a few hours. At least I don't have one of those heavy backpacks hikers need, she thought. It's the small things.
Rubbing the balls of her feet one last time, she put her transfigured shoes back on and stretched, cracking her neck. My feet feel a lot better now. I better start working on getting my dinner ready. Chicken Teriyaki with rice, along with some freeze-dry vegtables… I suppose it's not the quality that matters, but how filling it is. She stood up, and on a whim looked upwards into the sky. Twilight was setting in, but that wasn't what she focused on as she had to do a double-take when a peculiar sight caught her eye. "Is… the moon broken?"
She blinked in surprise. Indeed, here eyes were not deceiving her. Now that it had risen above the tree line and with her elevated position, she could now see this stellar object. A large portion of this world's moon was shattered, with many of the pieces still in close proximity to the moon, apparently orbiting with it. It was an enthralling sight the longer she looked at it, and further proof that she was not on her Earth anymore. I wonder what caused such a cataclysmic event… A rogue meteor? Or something else? It's certainly bigger than Earth's – either that or it's closer and looks larger.
She stared at it some more, the silver glow of it captivating her before she forced herself to tear her gaze away. She chuckled to herself in amusement at her actions. One might think I was a werewolf, so enamored I was with the moon.
However, the call of food claimed her attention and she went down to where her cooking pot was to make dinner. Idly following the instructions, Harriet let her mind wander. There wasn't much she could preoccupy herself with, but her jail time with the Dursleys had let her master the art of mind-wandering when there was nothing to do but wait. Either that or count spider webs.
After adding water, while waiting she checked the Point-Me spell and it still roughly pointed in the same direction, maybe a bit more south than before. So I'm okay on that front. If everything goes well I should be able to find some sort of civilization. I hope they're friendly at least and won't attack me on sight. And also not some strange squid beings, she chuckled at the way her thoughts went.
The amusement faded as she gradually crossed her arms, leaning against the bolder as a backrest. 'Course, they might take the old view of me and think I'm a freak… probably would be right in this case, she thought, but it didn't make it any easier to consider. Bloody Dumbledore. Sitting in his gold chair in his high office, eating sweets at his leisure while I was forced under the stairs and had to make by with infrequent scraps. Had to endure beatings and degradation while he lived a life of luxury. Look who's laughing now!
Huffing, Harriet realized her meal was ready and began eating. While it wasn't the usual Hogwarts fare, it tasted pretty good at the moment. Right, so after this I need to set up protection wards so nothing interrupts my sleep, and then make sure everything is in order for tomorrow. Idly summoning the book for basic warding from her pouch, she flipped through the pages, eating as she went. It's incredible how much self-study I've needed to do, and not just for DADA. Potions, Astronomy, Runes and Arithmancy, History, and then subjects that should be taught in Hogwarts but aren't anymore –such as enchanting and warding. You need to learn about them outside of Hogwarts, almost when it's too late.
Probably Dumbledore's fault, though I can't discount the overall failing magic power of Purebloods; probably one too many heirs couldn't get basic passing grades so they changed the tests and material. Also the lack of common sense and critical thinking is largely absent from those that have grown up in magic.
Maybe in this world I can finally be the person I want to be. In control, strong, free. All the things I wasn't with Voldemort and Dumbledore looming over me.
Don't know why I'm still being so negative, she considered, sipping some water. I don't have to deal with them anymore. I've cut ties with my homeworld. I don't need to worry myself over manipulative headmasters or dark lords. I don't need to worry about the state of society or worrying about which way opinions will turn – though once I contact the beings living here I might, but that's a lesser concern. I could always be the stereotypical witch that lives on the outskirts. She laughed aloud at that thought, both from the ridiculousness of it and how she knew she would never settle for less than what her potential was. And she still didn't know what the limits of that potential were.
Staring up at the mysterious broken moon, she pondered her future, and what she wanted to make out of it. And who she wanted to be. Do I want to be associated with Potter name here? It's my family name, but I have barely any knowledge of that family. I really only know that when I change my eye color it's the same as my mum's, and I have the flying skill of my dad, and some of their personality traits. So much of my family's history has been hidden or subverted that I have no clue about who they were, what they thought, their actions… or even their names.
The Potter name means nothing here, but do I want to keep it that way? I could make it mean something here; a powerful force. But do I want to keep the stigma with it –even if I were the only one who knew it? Honestly there's nothing that makes me want to keep using the name. More often than not it was spoken of in either hero-worship or vitriol and I have no positive connotations with the name 'Potter'.
While Voldemort may've been the one to nearly kill the line, Dumbledore was the one who made it easier for Voldemort to do so. And then Dumbledore effectively rewrote history in his favor, letting me get only scraps of knowledge that I don't even know if they're true. Damn that man…
Forcing a sneer back, Harriet distracted herself from these self-indulgent thoughts and got a spoonful of food. She was about to take a bite when she stayed her hand. There was… something. A presence that felt reminiscent of Voldemort's shade. Or like a lesser Dementor (if it were possible), with all the malevolence, but none of the emotional torment and chilling cold. It was a deadening sensation, as if there was something that just escaped her senses but remained in her blind spot.
Even with this odd sensation, she could feel she was being watched, judged.
Judging if she were prey.
Standing up slowly and purposely, she slid her wand firmly into her hand, pointed down at the ground and looked for the source. In the darkness outside of her campfire, multiple glowing red eyes peered out, burning ember holes in the darkness. Further, similar red markings were illuminated around those eyes. Before she could react to being surrounded by unknowns, they struck.
With a sudden wolf-like snarl, a large creature leapt out, bone-white claws rushing down at her with the intent to kill. Harriet let loose a banisher, then blasted the night with a Lumos spell to see exactly what was attacking her.
It was shaped like a werewolf that took more of its features from canines than the human form. It stood on its hind legs, easily 3 meters tall at least. Its fur was an inky black that had white bone-like protrusions on its arms and legs. An outer skull-like mask protected its head, and on it were glowing red markings. A dark miasma wafted from its form like smoke, giving it an eerie, insubstantial form in the lighting.
What is this thing? Harriet wondered, as she took a more aggressive stance, logically thinking it was some sort of native animal to this world. However, even thinking that, the thought felt wrong –or not entirely accurate. At the moment though, she couldn't focus on these thoughts as the wolf-creature she'd temporarily blinded wasn't the only one to be concerned about.
Now that a path of action had been chosen, the others, which were also wolf-creatures, charged forward with a loud howl. Some went on all fours, others ran on two with a hunched gait –all were swift however. Time to get to work, Harriet thought, a grin on her face at a chance to truly let loose. The first wolf, closer than the others was her first target.
It attacked, quicker than something that size would suggest, but she saw it coming and blasted it in the chest with a Confringo curse. With a large chunk of its front missing, the wolf fell to the ground with a whimper, unmoving. Aiming at the next closest, she split its head in half with a dark cutting curse, and fired off a series of Reductos into the pack. However, the Reductos merely slowed down and injured those it hit, not killing any of them (save for a few that got a headshot). Feeling her blood pumping, Harriet used a few transfiguration and animation charms to grow the grass underneath the pack and ensnare them, slowly squeezing them to death. The wolves howled and yipped in confusion, many struggling to escape.
Now that she had a moment, Harriet saw that the two she'd previously killed were doing something strange. Their bodies were disintegrating, turning into black smoke (much like they emitted) and evaporating like water into nothingness. Is this natural for these creatures to do that when they're dead? Or is it some strange gimmick of this new world and the animals in it?
Drawn from her thoughts yet again at a rise in the freocity of the snarling, Harriet saw that some of the wolves had torn themselves from the grass, though there were some that hadn't escaped, strangled by the grass and resulting in them swiftly disintegrating like the other two wolves, supposedly when they died. However, Harriet noticed more red glows from the darkness and realized that the pack was bigger than she originally thought. Hmm… while this is entertaining, perhaps it's prudent to consider withdrawal. I probably am the one encroaching on their territory, and if I leave they might abandon the attack.
Then again, I'm sensing something particularly malevolent about these wolves. Almost makes me think of some of those experiments dark wizards tried on mundane animals I read about in the Black Library, though obviously not to this extent.
Once again, the present overtook her thoughts as the wolves attacked, though this time she noticed some spreading off to the side to try and attack her flanks. Potentially problematic. She busied herself by casting spells at the wolves, killing and incapacitating several. However the wolves got too close to her to be safe.
So she moved. Specifically apparating to the top of the bolder she was formerly sitting on. Now with a higher vantage point, she casted Bombardas into the pack, which were better suited for crowd control than Confringos or Reductos. The wolves seemed surprised at her sudden disappearance and were consequently caught off guard by the unexpected direction of her onslaught.
However, they were surprisingly adaptable, and recovered quickly to her concern. The first wolf to leap up at her was cut in half by a cutting curse, and the second was blasted with a jet of fire. But while casting the Incendio, she unintentionally left herself open. Harriet suddenly cried out in pain when a set of claws racked her left arm, leaving hot gashes in her skin. Thankfully the claws didn't cut too deep, and the wolf was outright disintegrated when she blasted it with a Bombarda Maxima.
To avoid the next wolf, she slid down the rock, cradling her wounded arm, unfortunately not having enough time to cast an Episkey on the gashes as the wolves were relentless. I can't apparate away, I'm too distracted right now. I'm getting overwhelmed. Heh, I will not die here. I've come to far to be killed by a pack of oversized alien wolves.
She took a deep breath, and then let loose. Every curse she could think of she cast. Some working, like cutting and exploding curses, others not so much, like the organ-rotting curse… Apparently they don't have organs to rot. She soon got creative, raising parts of the earth to try and create bottlenecks, turning them to stone after she found out the hard way some of the wolves could just force their way through them, and abandoning the idea soon after when she noticed they were irritatingly good climbers and could just go over them –clambering over her defenses or straight up jumping over them.
Banishing pieces of rock at them wasn't effective either, unless the rocks were banished at high speeds that took a lot of power to do. These wolves were surprisingly tough and resilient, and that was exasperated by the fact that a portion of her spell repertoire was useless against them, as leg-lockers and Immobulus' targeted only single wolves and were only stalling them. To make things worse, the spells seemed to wear off abnormally quickly.
Further, the reckless abandon that they threw themselves at her gave her no time to prepare longer and complex transfigurations or charms. The wolves attacked with little to no regard of their lives. It seemed they were determined to kill her, regardless of how many of their number perished.
Harriet could feel herself getting tired from the constant spell-casting, but was determined to see this through and win. Eventually the pack seemed to dwindle out and the attacks ceased, and Harriet cautiously sought the top of the bolder for a vantage point to pick off any stragglers. Dark mist hung in the air from the evaporating bodies, turning the night sky a darker shade.
That was… thoroughly unpleasant, Harriet thought, finally taking a moment to mend her arm. I hope there's something on this world I can use to brew a Blood-replenishing potion. Her left side was drenched in blood, and she was feeling a massive headache building.
Focusing on making sure all the wolves were gone, she could hear some rustling but it was moving away from her, so she figured the pack had retreated due to the amount of casualties they sustained. Those wolves were acting abnormal, like they had a purpose trying to kill me. Most animals would not attack as viciously without provocation, and the only thing I can come up with is I entered their territory. But even then that doesn't seem like it wou-
Pain. Disorientation. Falling.
When Harriet regained her senses, she was on the ground with intense pain crackling at the back of her head. Feels like my skull got hit with a bludger… Harriet stumbled to her feet, half blind from pain and tears, clutching the back of her head in agony. Vaguely she felt her wand in her hand and she somehow muttered a numbing charm, mercifully dimming the pain so she could function enough to survive.
Squinting through the pain, she saw another wolf on top of the bolder she had just occupied. Maybe it was the lighting and it being perched higher up, or her still being out of it, but it looked larger than the other wolves. It clearly had more of and longer bone protrusions, and what looked like ribs on the outside of its' chest.
This thing, the Alpha of the pack Harriet dazedly realized, had more intelligence in those glowing red eyes. From its' left claw, it dropped a decently sized hunk of rock and sunk down to all fours, slowly, menacingly, climbing down to her. Seeing the rock drop from its claws connected the dots as to what happened. It must've thrown a rock at me… A Protego shield spell would've protected her from that happening, but since all the other wolves had partaken in close quarters combat, she didn't see a need as their claws probably would've torn right through the shield spell. Part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it –being taken out by a rock, caveman style- if she wasn't succumbing to a unwelcome emotion: fear.
As the irrational fear came over her and her mind started shutting down due to the emotion, she fell and started to crawl backwards, away from the monster. The alpha's tongue came out and licked its pointed teeth, looking hungry, as if sensing her fear. Only the Basilisk had drawn this sort of fear from Harriet, and this time she had less knowledge of what these creatures were. Yes they could be easily killed, but they kept coming, wearing her out for the stronger members of their species to strike.
No. No, I will not die here, not when I've won! Not when I've wrestled my life back from fate! I. Will. Not. Die! As had happened so many times in history, fear turned to anger. However, this anger brought fiery strength, determination, and an answer to her survival.
In her anger, her desperation, she cast one final curse – one of, if not the, most forbidden spells that exists.
Avada Kedavra.
The Killing Curse.
She knew the basic principles from her 4th year lesson with the fake Moody. It needs power and it needs the desire, the readiness to kill someone or something without a second thought. The absolute yearning to see the thing you're casting at dead.
She shouted the words, and as the green, sickening light erupted from her wand, she knew she had cast the Unforgivable spell correctly.
It sailed through the air, illuminating the area with a green glow, and it impacted against the black fur of the wolf.
For a second the wolf looked shocked. The world seemed to hold its breath.
And then the wolf took another step closer, a rumbling coming from its throat that could only be considered laughter.
The Killing Curse, the absolute ender of life, failed against this monster –doing nothing except providing it amusement.
The fear that Harriet felt returned with greater intensity. "How… how?" She weakly muttered as the creature advanced. Harriet shuddered and shouted, "G-get away!" trying in vain to crawl backwards faster. The monster kept the same relentless pace, content on indulging in her fear for as long as the game continued.
Once again in desperation, Harriet pointed her wand at the monster, with only one thought: die! Her magic reacted to her thought, taking the form that she was subconsciously familiar with.
One, two, ten, fifty, a hundred molten glass shards came into being, held together and given form by her magic. The monster paused, seeing this new phenomenon, but quickly came to the conclusion that the chase had to end now. With a growl, it lunged, its' teeth wide open to end the life of the weakened and wounded human in front of it.
But on the other side, the appearance of the glass shards was a sign, and brought renewed determination, a will to continue fighting. With a silent command and a thrust, the molten shards shot forward, appearing as blurs to the human eye.
Not all the glass shards impacted, many missing and sailing into the forest to create numerous small fires quickly snuffed out by the lack of burnable fuel in the damp climate. But those that did, did with vengeful effect. The monster lurched backwards from the sheer force of the glass shards, its fur and even bones penetrated by the molten glass in dozens of places. Additionally, due to their molten status, the penetrating glass nearly instantaneously cauterized the wounds while setting alight the fur on the outside.
In agonizing pain and now on fire, the wolf monster flailed around slapping at the wounds, its intelligence failing as it only drove the shards deeper. Harriet watched as the flailing and roars reached a crescendo, and then abruptly tapered off. The arms of the wolf dropped, it teetered, and with one last whimper, fell. Almost in slow motion, it fell. As it did though, it started evaporating, and the last vestiges vanished as soon as it impacted the ground.
The night was now silent, and the absence of growls and spells was somewhat unsettling. Harriet's breathing slowly got more under her conscious control and she took a moment to collect herself.
Or tried to. Her hands were still shaking and idly she realized that she was going through a state of shock, as she couldn't fully concentrate on anything. That was… that was too close. Too close. Not since the Basilisk have I been that close. Not even the Horntail in the tournament was that close. I almost died. I… I should've died if not for my magic…
In that moment she came to a sudden, unforgiving, and unwelcome realization: that she wasn't as powerful as she thought she was. That it was merely luck that saved her. Not her skill, not her knowledge, and while maybe her power did aid her she had no control over it.
I need to get better. I need to be stronger, need more power, to avoid this happening again. Harriet slowly stood up, stumbling and falling on her knees as the strain on her body caught up to her.
Clickclickclickclickclick...
A string of clicks from an unknown source cut through the silence, and yet again, the cold feeling of fear crept back into her veins. "No. No, no, no…" Feeling the sinking in her gut, Harriet knew her fight for survival wasn't over yet. Wearily she stood up, preparing to be defiant until the end.
A… thing appeared, creeping out of the gloom. In the moonlight it looked like an oversized shrimp, if it were a meter tall and had familiarly colored bone-white armor plating. Instead of antennae, a pair of spikes curved backwards, almost like horns. It had two claws, one being oversized, looking as if it had a noticeable hinge on it. The oversized claw was made of the bone-like structure, but the other claw only had the top part bone, the bottom the inky black skin. Its face had four glowing red eyes and similar red markings as the wolves did, with also the same black smoke rising from it. This unquestionable similarity caused understandable concern for Harriet. If this thing is similar to those wolves, then… I… I need to fight it, think later.
Too fatigued to ponder this further, she cast a Protego spell, learning from her mistakes and now thoroughly cautious at these… things' capabilities. There was a moment where the two eyed each other, the creature considering its' course of action, and Harriet planning on surviving.
Then the oversized claw started creaking open with a –crick-crick-crick- sound, like a ratchet being cranked. Harriet bent her unsteady knees, readying for its inevitable charge where it would lunge with its' claw and-
THOOOom!
Harriet barely registered that the claw had snapped shut before she felt like a troll had socked her in the gut with a blunt club. Once again, she felt intense pain, but also scorching heat this time, as she found herself on her back, the world spinning. She could barely breath, gasping for air to refuel her lungs. As the ringing in her ears dissipated, she now could hear the clickclickclickclick sound the creature made coming closer.
The thing, had somehow shot something that had completely obliterated her Protego shield and smashed into her. It wasn't as if it bypassed the shield like Unforgivables, it just smashed through it with sheer brute force.
Come on! Get up! Get up! Fight! Harriet furiously told her body to react, and with a serious force of will, shoved herself so she was sitting upright. The shrimp-monster was crawling towards her, the 'normal' sized claw pinching madly, eager to tear into her body.
Harriet held up her wand again… and then she saw something truly terrifying. Hanging on by barely a thread of the phoenix feather core, her wand was snapped in half by the handle.
Her main weapon, her main defense, the symbol of modern witches and wizards, was useless now.
She stared, horrified at the remnants of her wand, and could feel her injuries and the strain that she put on her body catching up to her. This latest shock was the final nail in her bodies' will to fight. Blackness crept into her vision, and the last thing she saw was the glowing red eyes and markings of the monster. She heard the crick-crick-crick of the oversized claw cocking itself again.
So… this is how it ends?
The last thing she heard was a loud, human, battle cry. Then everything went black and she knew no more.
XXXXXXXXXX
I couldn't make it too easy for Harriet now could I? And don't worry, I plan on updating again before the year's up as I've found my motivation to write again, and I don't want to loose it until I've squeezed every drop of creativity I can from this latest wave. I ebb and flow.
Can I also just say "Holy Hell" that I almost have a 1,000 favorites on this story? Well, Holy Hell then.
Now for a minor rant/Explanation
Volume 6 of RWBY has premiered, I've seen the first episode, and I'm cautiously optimistic about the Volume. For me, Volume 4 was the start of something new from the old RWBY, and I was eager, yet slightly let down at the end of V4 (I like to call it Volume 4a and we needed a 4b - basically if felt like half a story told. [Also don't like some of the subtle ret-conning going on]). Volume 5 started strong... but the last several episodes went downhill quickly in pretty much all aspects. This nearly killed my interest in RWBY. It also doesn't help that it seems that the writers realized they messed up. While I like it when writers do that, it also is kinda sad that they got to the point that they had to do that (If only Rian Johnson could so that for Ep 8...) That's another reason why I stopped writing RWBY stuff (and most of my stuff overall).
So with the train-wreck that was Volume 5, I honestly feel like I'm too cautious and critical of RWBY now - especially since I have a reaction YT channel and actually somewhat review the episodes. I want to enjoy it, but the previous decisions made in V5 (and a lesser extent in V4) cast a dark shadow on my enjoyment of the series. I'll still watch it, but I won't defend it as much as I used to and I will question things a lot more.
*Rant End*
Now to some positive stuff, I've had the ideas for this chapter since the last one, but finalized them here. The shrimp Grimm is my own OC Grimm, you'll learn the name of it next chapter, but it's based off of the Pistol Shrimp, that uses a specialized claw to shoot a bubble of air underwater that can reach up to 4,700 C before it bursts and stuns its' target. Look it up, it's fascinating. Since certain Grimm now have the ability to shoot things (either spikes or hyper beams/fireballs), I felt it would be a neat addition. Also, the Avada Kedavera not working? We don't know much about the Grimm, so I'm taking the route that they're not truly 'alive' and are some sort of magical creation. A curse supposed to kill something that's alive won't work on the Grimm. I'm also using the theory that the spell doesn't kill the people, but rather instantaneously rips the soul out of the body, causing death as the body shuts down (unlike the husks left over after the Dementors kiss someone) Another nitpick I have is I don't like the recent animation
And Harriet did draw all those Grimm to her with the negative thoughts she was having before. Remember that the Grimm are drawn to negative emotion, and Harriet has plenty, so she'll eventually have to learn to control them better.
So anyways, hope I haven't lost too many people with the large gap in time. Once again, I'll try to be more present on FF, but who knows? Oh, and a Happy Birthday to one Ruby Rose again, the sweet cherub she is! Don't forget to Read, Review, Favorite, and Follow!
Until next time
-OrangeGalen