Read author's note at the bottom of this chapter! Review!
It's time to celebrate.yeah whatever, this chapter brings the count up past 100,000 words! Wahoo! Okay over excited, deep breaths now, calm down.
Final Chapter of Order of the Phoenix II!!! Posting next one sometime soon I hope.
Chapter 51
The library was old, very old, a small stone building covered in dark green ivy that seemed to be trying to completely engulf it, and succeeding. It was only one story high, with another large room in the basement, a cranky librarian with hair that unnaturally white color, almost blue, that has come into style sat at a red desk with a large reading lamp on it. Beyond her were shelves and shelves of books, there were only two other people besides the librarian in the building, two men, both in their fifties, though this library was the only one for nearly forty miles around it was a Friday, and most people were busy. All three of them glanced up as the door swung open, banging against the wall, the librarian went and shut it, muttering about the wind these days, and the other two went back to reading.
In the back the door to the downstairs was standing open, and despite the extremely rickety old stairs that creaked horribly not one sound came from it as the invisible figure defended.
Down here the books were alphabetically ordered, with no other way of organization, and they were well out of order. Suddenly two of the book slid apart, and a third book, a small journal bound in brown leather, was placed between them, tilted at a careless angle. It had no title, and the lower right corner was badly burned, the pages crisped and blackened, illegible. It was the gathering of demon legends, put together a priest with way too much spare time and a taste for ghost stories a few centuries ago. It was also completely fictional.
The door opened, and a tall man with graying blond hair stepped inside. He nodded to the librarian, who frowned at him over her spectacles, and went into the shelves, browsing around. After about ten minutes he noticed the open door to the downstairs, and went down, the stairs squeaking and groaning loudly. The door shut behind him silently.
For a few moments the man paused, looking around, then he went down one row of shelves, as he walked one of his shoelaces suddenly became untied and he stepped on it, and went stumbling into the shelf. He caught himself and straightened, muttering a curse in annoyance. He had knocked a book off the shelf; the little leather bound burned title less journal. It fallen to the floor and landed open on the ground, as he bent to pick it up he paused; reading the title of the chapter it had fallen open to. The Sorcerer, and the Demons. The true story of what happened in Stonehenge May 1st 1592.
Intrigued the man picked up the book and, forgetting his shoelace, began to read. By the time he had reached the bottom of the second paragraph his eyes had gone wide with shock, looking around his lipped the journal into a pocket and left. The librarian utterly oblivious to his departure. And he oblivious to the invisible figure that followed him out and watched him walk around behind the library, and vanish.
Mission accomplished Harry returned to the Palace, grinning broadly at just how easy it had been to trick the death eater, soon that journal would be in Voldemort's hands.
"Dear utterly stupid minister of magic.no that's not right. Dear slimy nutcase whose mother was a warthog.nah. Dear pompous, useless, and infuriating slow Minister.nope. Dear hapless git who had to open this cursed letter.no. Dear deranged bastard.nope. Dear Cornelius Fudge.yes. that's it, I'll save the insults for another time." The dark haired young man said as he quickly wrote his message in dark purple ink with perfect flowing script. Heron was seated in his office in the Phoenix tower, lounging on a dark red, wheeled, swivel chair. He had just retuned from seeing his apprentices off into the cave, and was waiting to feel them start panicking and drowning any second.
He was going into the next phase of his war-on-Pudgy Fudgy, and it was turning out to be highly interesting and amusing. Unfortunately he wasn't sure what to write yet, and he had to make this perfect first. Heron searched for his apprentices mentally, they were still in good shape, Severus was pissed off about something or other, and Sirius was furious, nothing unusual.
The four were nearly a half-mile into the cave when the problems began. Their plan had been fairly simple, Severus pushed the water away form them, Albus built a bubble of air around them, Sirius provided light and heat, for the cold water cooled the air quickly, and Neville kept the silt around the bottom of the cave away so they could see. But they had only gone a half mile when it became difficult to breathe, they had forgotten about renewing their oxygen supply, and keeping a fire going is also difficult without oxygen.
"We need fresh air, we must go back." Albus said, at that moment they crashed into a boulder hanging from the ceiling, Albus jerked as it hit his head, not quite knocking him out, and lost control of the bubble of air briefly. Trying to duck Albus's flailing arm Severus collided with a sharp rock projecting form a wall that pierced their bubble and cut a gash on his back, he also lost control of the waters briefly, but long enough. IN seconds they were in the water, freezing cold, and without air. Unable to swim half a mile they had no idea what to do, Albus's attempts to remake the air bubble failed, and Severus found the water pressure to much for him to push it all back away form them. Floundering helplessly they began to take in water.
Sirius blinked, then opened his eyes and looked about; he was lying on the grass beside the pool where the water bubbled up from the cave. Albus was next to him, still unconscious; Severus was stirring into wakefulness a few feet away, Neville, on his right, suddenly sat up with a gasp of shock. All of them were completely dry, and judging by how much the midday sun had warmed their robes they had been there for some time.
Albus woke to a hand shaking his shoulder, and Severus cursing Heron, in multiple languages he could guess. He sat up, noting their surroundings, Heron had just left them there, and he could imagine the amused glitter in heron's eyes when he realized that they'd forgotten the essential need for fresh air. They'd been stupid in overlooking that, this time they'd plan better.
"Oh will you shut up for a while?" Sirius asked, glowering at Severus as the other paced up and down, still cursing Heron furiously. Severus stopped and gave him a nasty glare.
"Well we're obviously going t have to bring a few plants along this time." Neville said quickly, seeing an argument/war about to start. He began looking around and slowly coaxing a few small weeds out of the ground. "They'll keep the air fresh and breathable."
"I'm going to try heating the water around us this time, last time was cold." Sirius commented as he sat down on the water's edge. Albus began to form their bubble again. Severus finally stopped muttering and came over to help.
** Crash! Clang! The sounds of steel on steel rang out. Heron nodded approvingly, though it didn't show in what he said.
"Lisa quit leaning away to the left like that! You're leaving you right side open and you're completely unbalanced!" Lisa Sarell flinched and corrected her stance, her opponent, Terry, seemed relieved that Heron hadn't said anything about him yet. Heron watched as they fenced for a few more minutes, before heading over to the archery range where Andrea, Cho, Jessica, and Alan. Jessica and Alan were turning out to be natural archers, the reason they were practicing with Cho and Andrea, who favored unarmed fighting.
But Heron had other things to do, and he left soon, heading inside and into the library. The library was gigantic, airy and covered with statues, painting, and beautiful carvings around the domed ceiling in the center room. Heron went to one stonewall that ran along one side of the library. He tapped the eye of a phoenix in a painting and the painting swung out of the way, showing a passageway. Heron went inside and down the passage, which came out in a huge stone room, completely empty. Heron placed a hand on the wall and closed his eyes, using his mind to unlock the library of the phoenix. Thin gold lines spread along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Then with a bright flash the rough dull stone was gone. Now tapestries and paintings covered it, old carpets in bright colors covered the floors and the room was filled with long rows of shelves filled with books. And it seemed to have grown in size as well.
Heron went to the section on vampires. Besides the books filled with information on vampires there was one wall covered in huge dark gray and purple volumes. In these nine hundred and twenty books (he had once counted them) were recorded every interaction between vampires and war mages that had ever happened. And beside this shelf was another, these books were black and red, each with a name in silver on the front. The life stories (or as much as any knew) of every vampire to exist. The information contained in the gray and purple books was the same as in the black and red; it was simply by vampires rather than in chronological order. Though in each individual book it was in chronological order. Heron selected the black and red book with Cassandra written on the front in silver. Cassandra was one of the oldest vampires, and another friend of his.
There weren't too many vampires older than 2,000 years. There was Nasiji, the oldest, who was nearly 3,800 years old and looked like she was twenty- five. Then there was Arai, who would be turning 3,300 in two years, Heron made a mental note to plan a party. Vampires only had birthdays every century; it would be too big a deal to do it every year. Cassandra was about 3,000, Vela was 2,900 or so, Cerele was about the same age. There was also Kylar, who was just over 2,700, and Relgar, who was about 2,500. There were about two dozen under two thousand and above one thousand, and two score between one thousand and five hundred, and about eighty between five hundred and two hundred, and some eight hundred under that age.
Cassandra kept up to date on where other vampires were, it was a skill she had turned into an art over the centuries. She was also a god friend and he knew that she would never join Voldemort. After looking through her book, and seeing that the last time anyone had met her was two hundred years in the past, in a tiny town Africa, he put the book away and closed and left the library.
Heron walked up into his tower to gather the things he would need for the trip he planned to take.
He dressed head to toe in silver and black, with his sword in silver and black sheath at his side, and two hidden knives. Then he picked up his staff and concentrated. In a second it had become smooth and polished, made form the golden wood of one of the trees of the Golden Forest and topped with a shining white diamond orb held in silver claws. He wrote a quick note and left it where he knew his apprentices would find it before leaving.
Heron went down and out a back door and walk to the pasture; taking a leaf from a tree he split it and blew two piercing notes. A few seconds later Diablo came running over, he was in high spirits, nearly prancing through the field, his very long silky black and white mane and tail shining and glittering in the bright sun. Harry led him into the stable and went into Diablo's tack room, as each horse had their own. He paused to pet Shelia, the black stable cat with glowing orange eyes. She was a very odd cat, nearly two thousand years old. She had been caught in the cross fire during a duel between some war mages and a group of rogue goblins. The magics had ended up giving her poisonous saliva and an unnaturally long life of an estimated three thousand years eventually.
Harry took out Diablo's silver and black saddle, and bridal. The saddle was very light and very comfortable, made from black leather with silver on it, the bridal black with silver studs and tassels. The girth and strap that ran across Diablo's chest were black with silver designs and tassels the silver and black straps and buckles had been polished and cleaned and shone. It was Diablo's war gear, heavily enchanted and the great horse tossed his head and pawed the ground in excitement when he saw it, eager for battle.
A few minutes later the apprentices looked up to see the huge black and white stallion with Heron astride him galloping into the forest, towards the Gate into the Ways.
I NEED YOUR OPINIONS!
Should the High K'haril dictionary be a separate story? Or should I post it when I'm done with this?
ALERT! This is the last chapter of Order of the Phoenix II! I'll post the next story as soon as I feel like it.
Next Book in this series will be: Land of the Elves
REVIEW PLEASE!!!
It's time to celebrate.yeah whatever, this chapter brings the count up past 100,000 words! Wahoo! Okay over excited, deep breaths now, calm down.
Final Chapter of Order of the Phoenix II!!! Posting next one sometime soon I hope.
Chapter 51
The library was old, very old, a small stone building covered in dark green ivy that seemed to be trying to completely engulf it, and succeeding. It was only one story high, with another large room in the basement, a cranky librarian with hair that unnaturally white color, almost blue, that has come into style sat at a red desk with a large reading lamp on it. Beyond her were shelves and shelves of books, there were only two other people besides the librarian in the building, two men, both in their fifties, though this library was the only one for nearly forty miles around it was a Friday, and most people were busy. All three of them glanced up as the door swung open, banging against the wall, the librarian went and shut it, muttering about the wind these days, and the other two went back to reading.
In the back the door to the downstairs was standing open, and despite the extremely rickety old stairs that creaked horribly not one sound came from it as the invisible figure defended.
Down here the books were alphabetically ordered, with no other way of organization, and they were well out of order. Suddenly two of the book slid apart, and a third book, a small journal bound in brown leather, was placed between them, tilted at a careless angle. It had no title, and the lower right corner was badly burned, the pages crisped and blackened, illegible. It was the gathering of demon legends, put together a priest with way too much spare time and a taste for ghost stories a few centuries ago. It was also completely fictional.
The door opened, and a tall man with graying blond hair stepped inside. He nodded to the librarian, who frowned at him over her spectacles, and went into the shelves, browsing around. After about ten minutes he noticed the open door to the downstairs, and went down, the stairs squeaking and groaning loudly. The door shut behind him silently.
For a few moments the man paused, looking around, then he went down one row of shelves, as he walked one of his shoelaces suddenly became untied and he stepped on it, and went stumbling into the shelf. He caught himself and straightened, muttering a curse in annoyance. He had knocked a book off the shelf; the little leather bound burned title less journal. It fallen to the floor and landed open on the ground, as he bent to pick it up he paused; reading the title of the chapter it had fallen open to. The Sorcerer, and the Demons. The true story of what happened in Stonehenge May 1st 1592.
Intrigued the man picked up the book and, forgetting his shoelace, began to read. By the time he had reached the bottom of the second paragraph his eyes had gone wide with shock, looking around his lipped the journal into a pocket and left. The librarian utterly oblivious to his departure. And he oblivious to the invisible figure that followed him out and watched him walk around behind the library, and vanish.
Mission accomplished Harry returned to the Palace, grinning broadly at just how easy it had been to trick the death eater, soon that journal would be in Voldemort's hands.
"Dear utterly stupid minister of magic.no that's not right. Dear slimy nutcase whose mother was a warthog.nah. Dear pompous, useless, and infuriating slow Minister.nope. Dear hapless git who had to open this cursed letter.no. Dear deranged bastard.nope. Dear Cornelius Fudge.yes. that's it, I'll save the insults for another time." The dark haired young man said as he quickly wrote his message in dark purple ink with perfect flowing script. Heron was seated in his office in the Phoenix tower, lounging on a dark red, wheeled, swivel chair. He had just retuned from seeing his apprentices off into the cave, and was waiting to feel them start panicking and drowning any second.
He was going into the next phase of his war-on-Pudgy Fudgy, and it was turning out to be highly interesting and amusing. Unfortunately he wasn't sure what to write yet, and he had to make this perfect first. Heron searched for his apprentices mentally, they were still in good shape, Severus was pissed off about something or other, and Sirius was furious, nothing unusual.
The four were nearly a half-mile into the cave when the problems began. Their plan had been fairly simple, Severus pushed the water away form them, Albus built a bubble of air around them, Sirius provided light and heat, for the cold water cooled the air quickly, and Neville kept the silt around the bottom of the cave away so they could see. But they had only gone a half mile when it became difficult to breathe, they had forgotten about renewing their oxygen supply, and keeping a fire going is also difficult without oxygen.
"We need fresh air, we must go back." Albus said, at that moment they crashed into a boulder hanging from the ceiling, Albus jerked as it hit his head, not quite knocking him out, and lost control of the bubble of air briefly. Trying to duck Albus's flailing arm Severus collided with a sharp rock projecting form a wall that pierced their bubble and cut a gash on his back, he also lost control of the waters briefly, but long enough. IN seconds they were in the water, freezing cold, and without air. Unable to swim half a mile they had no idea what to do, Albus's attempts to remake the air bubble failed, and Severus found the water pressure to much for him to push it all back away form them. Floundering helplessly they began to take in water.
Sirius blinked, then opened his eyes and looked about; he was lying on the grass beside the pool where the water bubbled up from the cave. Albus was next to him, still unconscious; Severus was stirring into wakefulness a few feet away, Neville, on his right, suddenly sat up with a gasp of shock. All of them were completely dry, and judging by how much the midday sun had warmed their robes they had been there for some time.
Albus woke to a hand shaking his shoulder, and Severus cursing Heron, in multiple languages he could guess. He sat up, noting their surroundings, Heron had just left them there, and he could imagine the amused glitter in heron's eyes when he realized that they'd forgotten the essential need for fresh air. They'd been stupid in overlooking that, this time they'd plan better.
"Oh will you shut up for a while?" Sirius asked, glowering at Severus as the other paced up and down, still cursing Heron furiously. Severus stopped and gave him a nasty glare.
"Well we're obviously going t have to bring a few plants along this time." Neville said quickly, seeing an argument/war about to start. He began looking around and slowly coaxing a few small weeds out of the ground. "They'll keep the air fresh and breathable."
"I'm going to try heating the water around us this time, last time was cold." Sirius commented as he sat down on the water's edge. Albus began to form their bubble again. Severus finally stopped muttering and came over to help.
** Crash! Clang! The sounds of steel on steel rang out. Heron nodded approvingly, though it didn't show in what he said.
"Lisa quit leaning away to the left like that! You're leaving you right side open and you're completely unbalanced!" Lisa Sarell flinched and corrected her stance, her opponent, Terry, seemed relieved that Heron hadn't said anything about him yet. Heron watched as they fenced for a few more minutes, before heading over to the archery range where Andrea, Cho, Jessica, and Alan. Jessica and Alan were turning out to be natural archers, the reason they were practicing with Cho and Andrea, who favored unarmed fighting.
But Heron had other things to do, and he left soon, heading inside and into the library. The library was gigantic, airy and covered with statues, painting, and beautiful carvings around the domed ceiling in the center room. Heron went to one stonewall that ran along one side of the library. He tapped the eye of a phoenix in a painting and the painting swung out of the way, showing a passageway. Heron went inside and down the passage, which came out in a huge stone room, completely empty. Heron placed a hand on the wall and closed his eyes, using his mind to unlock the library of the phoenix. Thin gold lines spread along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Then with a bright flash the rough dull stone was gone. Now tapestries and paintings covered it, old carpets in bright colors covered the floors and the room was filled with long rows of shelves filled with books. And it seemed to have grown in size as well.
Heron went to the section on vampires. Besides the books filled with information on vampires there was one wall covered in huge dark gray and purple volumes. In these nine hundred and twenty books (he had once counted them) were recorded every interaction between vampires and war mages that had ever happened. And beside this shelf was another, these books were black and red, each with a name in silver on the front. The life stories (or as much as any knew) of every vampire to exist. The information contained in the gray and purple books was the same as in the black and red; it was simply by vampires rather than in chronological order. Though in each individual book it was in chronological order. Heron selected the black and red book with Cassandra written on the front in silver. Cassandra was one of the oldest vampires, and another friend of his.
There weren't too many vampires older than 2,000 years. There was Nasiji, the oldest, who was nearly 3,800 years old and looked like she was twenty- five. Then there was Arai, who would be turning 3,300 in two years, Heron made a mental note to plan a party. Vampires only had birthdays every century; it would be too big a deal to do it every year. Cassandra was about 3,000, Vela was 2,900 or so, Cerele was about the same age. There was also Kylar, who was just over 2,700, and Relgar, who was about 2,500. There were about two dozen under two thousand and above one thousand, and two score between one thousand and five hundred, and about eighty between five hundred and two hundred, and some eight hundred under that age.
Cassandra kept up to date on where other vampires were, it was a skill she had turned into an art over the centuries. She was also a god friend and he knew that she would never join Voldemort. After looking through her book, and seeing that the last time anyone had met her was two hundred years in the past, in a tiny town Africa, he put the book away and closed and left the library.
Heron walked up into his tower to gather the things he would need for the trip he planned to take.
He dressed head to toe in silver and black, with his sword in silver and black sheath at his side, and two hidden knives. Then he picked up his staff and concentrated. In a second it had become smooth and polished, made form the golden wood of one of the trees of the Golden Forest and topped with a shining white diamond orb held in silver claws. He wrote a quick note and left it where he knew his apprentices would find it before leaving.
Heron went down and out a back door and walk to the pasture; taking a leaf from a tree he split it and blew two piercing notes. A few seconds later Diablo came running over, he was in high spirits, nearly prancing through the field, his very long silky black and white mane and tail shining and glittering in the bright sun. Harry led him into the stable and went into Diablo's tack room, as each horse had their own. He paused to pet Shelia, the black stable cat with glowing orange eyes. She was a very odd cat, nearly two thousand years old. She had been caught in the cross fire during a duel between some war mages and a group of rogue goblins. The magics had ended up giving her poisonous saliva and an unnaturally long life of an estimated three thousand years eventually.
Harry took out Diablo's silver and black saddle, and bridal. The saddle was very light and very comfortable, made from black leather with silver on it, the bridal black with silver studs and tassels. The girth and strap that ran across Diablo's chest were black with silver designs and tassels the silver and black straps and buckles had been polished and cleaned and shone. It was Diablo's war gear, heavily enchanted and the great horse tossed his head and pawed the ground in excitement when he saw it, eager for battle.
A few minutes later the apprentices looked up to see the huge black and white stallion with Heron astride him galloping into the forest, towards the Gate into the Ways.
I NEED YOUR OPINIONS!
Should the High K'haril dictionary be a separate story? Or should I post it when I'm done with this?
ALERT! This is the last chapter of Order of the Phoenix II! I'll post the next story as soon as I feel like it.
Next Book in this series will be: Land of the Elves
REVIEW PLEASE!!!