Fanfiction

Harry Potter and the Eye of Power--by Berilac

Chapter Four: The Kidnapping
Author: Berilac
Rating: PG

Summary: A mysterious cloaked stranger whisks Harry away from Privet Drive to some unknown place in a deep and old forest. Did he kill Mrs. Figg? More importantly, what does he want? The answer isn't soon forthcoming, and Harry begins to fear that he's trapped with a madman whose dichotomy of concern and contempt for himself, Voldemort, and the Wizarding world in general may lead to a blacker evil than any he's known.

CHAPTER FOUR:
THE KIDNAPPINGCHAPTER FOUR:
THE KIDNAPPING

Harry stood stock still; his feet felt like lead over the linoleum tiles. The grip that the hooded man possessed was nothing less than iron firm. The man continued to gaze piercingly at Harry, his line of sight upon his lightning-bolt scar. He nodded solemnly and made a slow calculating step backwards toward the back door.
Mrs. Figg remained next to the stove, standing around a jagged pattern of shattered porcelain dishes, staring in a stupor, her hands clasped firmly together, unsure of what movement to take.
"Potter," the hooded man said again with the same silky voice. "There's no need to dally around this place any longer. Let's go..."
But Harry didn't move. Not one inch.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked nervously.
"That's of no importance at the present time," the hooded man answered, his eyes continually sparkling like polished emeralds. "Come with me. Now!"
The various kneazles and cats started to edge closer to Harry and the hooded man, hissing and spitting warningly at him. Mrs. Figg continued to stay where she was, her face lined with fear and apprehension at what was to come. A long pause followed.... The three of them stared at each other, waiting for at least one of them to make the next move.
"Enough of this!" the hooded man finally shouted. "I've lingered here far too long!"
He made the first movement and started to drag Harry in his direction, out the doorway. Right on cue, Mrs. Figg ventured forward quickly with a shout of fury.
"You will not steal the Potter child!" Mrs. Figg screeched, raising her hand, which tightly held a large black frying pan.
The hooded man did not react quickly enough. Mrs. Figg let out another reverberating screech and pelted him over and over again with the larger-than-normal pan, the metallic clangs bouncing off the walls loudly.
"You. Will. Not. Take. Him. Away!" she screamed with all her might continuing her onslaught over the hooded man.
Harry ducked out of the way. He dashed back away from the dual... and slipped over the broken dishes still lying on the kitchen floor. The kneazles that were stalking around the tableau leapt away in fright. Harry's lower back throbbed with pain from the fall. He closed his eyes wishing for something to appease the pulse coursing through him.
And before he could open his eyes, a mind-numbing shriek issued forth from Mrs. Figg, much worse than her frenzied squeals only a moment before. Harry opened his eyes and saw Mrs. Figg spread-eagled on the floor, her eyes wide open, her body lifeless.
The hooded man stood over her with his wand pointed directly at Mrs. Figg, his hand shaking horribly from the sudden brawl. His hood had fallen down, revealing a disheveled mop of dark hair and a face that was already reddening from the continual thrashings that had been administered by Mrs. Figg's frying pan.
"Wh-what did you do?" Harry managed to gasp. "You-"
"There's no time to talk," the man said with an utmost severity. "I've probably caused too much of a disturbance already. You're coming with me NOW! No arguments!"
He quickly pulled the hood over his head and pointed the wand at Harry.
"You ready?"
Sparks began to issue forth from the wand. Then, without warning, ropes lurched out of the wand toward Harry, wrapping around him tightly until he was unable to move an inch.
Before Harry could react verbally to this action, the hooded man shouted a curse loudly through the air.
"Invisiblia!"
With that, the hooded man vanished. Harry looked around wildly, first at the place where the hooded man had been, then down at the body of Mrs. Figg, still sprawled out on the linoleum floor. Was she dead? It didn't appear that she was breathing....
"Okay! Now that we're both invisible-" the man shouted out of nowhere. Harry looked down and made a loud gurgling noise. He was completely invisible also; it was as if he was wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak!
At that precise moment, Harry felt dizzy. Mrs. Figg's kitchen became an indistinct blur. The half-open door in Harry's line of sight began to sway oddly, bending and swerving so violently that Harry's insides started churning into overdrive. Suddenly, the floor dropped out from underneath him, he was floating in midair-!
Then, a blast of ice-cold air collided with Harry's face; it was as if he was riding a fast-moving carnival ride on an extremely windy day. The wind stung his cheeks with its bitter cold fingers; Harry's hair blew haphazardly as he careened to some unknown location. Blurry blues, whites, and grays whirred past him at an unbelievably fast clip, the nausea that Harry possessed continuing to intensify. Stronger and stronger it increased until... he started slowing down.... The blurs became darker and darker; the brightness of Harry's surroundings faded away as sunlight does stealthily after dusk. The world through Harry's eyes kept on diminishing until only an incalculable darkness pervaded throughout him. The wind stopped. Harry felt no movement; he still couldn't move freely because of the tightly bound ropes around him. So he relaxed. And closed his eyes. To another blackness that seemed to never end....
* * *
"Potter! Wake up!"
Slowly and gradually, Harry forced open his eyes. The first picture he glimpsed upon was the same man who kidnapped him, his face now masked by candlelit shadows. Harry then looked around to find out where he was. It was a seemingly out-of-the-way place a little lower than the forest around it, like a miniature hollow. Dense branches arched overhead, blocking the moonlight or anything else from falling down upon the two of them. Numerous wide orange floating candles hovered around Harry and the hooded figure, providing the only illumination. At the present moment, the man was sitting on a gigantic decayed log; Harry was sprawled out on the floor, the ropes now gone, his body sore as if he had just run a long distance.
The man was not wearing a cape any longer; he did wear a tattered beige overcoat that was too small for him-that along with black pants and shoes. He also wore fingerless gloves that hadn't been washed in a good long while. The man sat there looking at Harry, illuminated faintly by the mysterious light of the candles.
"Are you all right?" he asked Harry, his face encased with concern.
"Y-yes- I guess..." Harry said faintly, not fully recovered from the ride from Mrs. Figg's.
A paused followed. Harry peered around for a bit, totally clueless as to where he was. He then looked back at the man.
"Who are you?"
"Well-" he paused looking at Harry with an intense concentration. "Let me put it to you this way: if I tell you my name, would you believe me?"
"I-I guess I would..." Harry said hesitantly, unable to decipher the hidden meaning behind the man's question.
"Because I could very well be lying, you know...." the man said, his eyes still ablaze, staring straight at Harry.
"Well, what other choice do I have?" Harry said irritably. "You've kidnapped me; you've brought me to this-this place! You've even killed Mrs. Fi-"
"Now wait just a minute!" the man hissed urgently. He got up from the log and crouched down, edging closer to Harry, who, in reflex, inched slowly back against the earthy floor.
"You killed her," Harry shouted angrily. "I saw her staring into space! I know what dead people look like!"
Harry's thoughts swam back to the end of his fourth year; Cedric Diggory was lying motionless on the ground in Harry's direct view, his face blankly staring out in shock; a snake-like rasping voice in the background flew at him, as if Harry had been transported directly to the graveyard just then. Harry blanched and shook his head violently, trying to suppress the reminiscent thoughts.
"Potter! You all right?"
At those words, Harry clasped a hand against the scar on his forehead. He looked at the man whose eyes were not even reflecting the candlelight. The green eyes glowed iridescently, like a glow-in-the-dark night-light.
"I-I'm...okay...." Harry lied. He tried not to look directly at the man's face.
"Your caretaker is not dead," the man said. "She's merely stunned for a longer amount of time. It'll wear off eventually...."
"I didn't hear the curse for it," Harry said scathingly. "You say ‘Stupefy' to stun someone."
"You're a smart little guy, you know," the man said, a slight amusement smothered in his words. "Well, they're not skiving off on teaching you at all, those slugs at Hogwarts. They're still teaching the important stuff there, sort of."
"Who are you?" Harry said abruptly. "You still haven't told me."
"Oh," the man smiled meekly and stood up straight, towering into the darkness that the enormous forest trees had showered down. "Well, I guess I shouldn't remain anonymous any longer...."
He walked a few steps away from where Harry lay and took off his gloves, stuffing them into the pockets of his overcoat. He faced Harry. A few of the candles that were levitating got in the way of a clear view of the man, but Harry didn't mind. If the eyes were covered, he felt safer. The eyes were too vivid to be allowed.
"My name is Yorick Hades," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid to invoke any outsider response, if there was any. "And I'm what the people in my line of work call an Authentic Unspeakable."
"Authentic?" Harry said, finally getting to his feet. "You're an Authentic Unspeakable? So you're related with the Ministry of Magic!"
"Oh no, no, no!" Yorick walked toward Harry making the candles float away with a brush of his hands. "I am in no way related to those incorrigible, unintelligent Neanderthals of the wizarding world!"
Harry stood shocked at the words that were flowing out of Yorick's mouth. Defaming the Ministry and talking horribly about it, as if it were rubbish, a complete abhorrence to his eyes...?
"What's the problem, kid?" he said with a surge of derision in his tone. "Can't realize the truth when it cuts deep?"
"What d'you mean?" Harry said dolefully. His eyes continued to stare down at the dirty ground around him and not at the man who had kidnapped him.
"You know perfectly well what I mean," Yorick said. Harry looked up and saw him standing next to the enormous log, about to take a seat down upon it.
"The Ministry's done some stupid things before," Harry said carefully, unsure of Yorick's true place in the wizarding world. "But-but they're not horrible! Well, most of them aren't horrible. There are a few people that are...are..."-(he remembered Dolores Umbridge, his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher last year, only for a moment, before smudging her out of his memory)-"...I mean, the Ministry's on our side now. You're on our side, right?"
"Ah, you mean against Voldemort?"
Yorick said the name with such power and, surprisingly, with such an enthusiastic vindictiveness that Harry shuddered and pulled even further away from him.
"What's the matter, Potter?" he sneered. "Afraid of his name, are you?"
"I-I'm not afraid of Voldemort's name," Harry replied, with a diminutive bravado. "I was just surprised that you'd-that you have such a vendetta against him."
"Well, he's a piece of filth, he is," Yorick said with unbelievable loathing. "Trying to use every evil trick in the book to be immortal. Trying to be bad, trying to be such a fearsome figure, trying to gain power over everyone and everything. But he's nothing. He's nothing to me."
Harry remained where he was, somewhat baffled thoughts frothing in his brain. Inside of himself, Harry laughed at the absurdity of what Yorick was saying. Not afraid of Voldemort? Throwing him completely away as nothing? As a weakling? How powerful is this guy? And what does he know really...? Harry himself had faced Voldemort five times already! Who was Yorick to tell him he was afraid of him?
"I'm freaking you out, aren't I?" Yorick said, his polytroposian tone of voice changing yet again. This time, he was calm, almost fatherly. "C'mon over here, Potter. You're probably wondering why I brought you here, right?"
Harry stood immovable, unwilling to move an inch toward Yorick.
"I'm not going to bite you or anything," he confirmed, sliding over on the upturned log so that Harry could sit down.
Harry walked slowly over, bent around a few of the floating candles, and crouched nearby, not looking at Yorick but still wordlessly paying attention.
"I told you that I'm not part of the Ministry. Well, that's true, I'm not. But I was a long time ago. Decades ago. Before you were born...."
Harry looked over at Yorick now; the man wasn't peering directly at Harry this time around. He was casting glances into the woods and at small crevices in the hollow wall, making sure that no one was listening on what he was saying.
"Before you were born Potter, I worked in the Department of Mysteries. It's a very secret place, holding many secrets from ordinary wizards. It's a place where I, and a handful of others, used to do experiments and answer imponderables and oddities that astounded even the smartest of wizards. Nowadays, new insights have ebbed slowly away; there are only about six or seven people who now work at the Ministry's department. Less actually after last year-"
Yorick paused, took out a tissue and blew his nose. Harry readjusted his legs and continued to gaze askance at Yorick, still avoiding his eyes.
"Potter, what I'm saying is that when Voldemort began to gain power, when he started his so-called ‘reign of terror', I was excruciatingly tempted to join him."
"You almost sided with Voldemort?" Harry yelled in alarm, utterly repulsed.
Yorick lurched forward and clasped Harry's mouth shut.
"Are you insane?" Yorick hissed angrily. "Do you want people to hear you?"
Harry tried to escape from Yorick's hold, but he gave in. That was when Yorick let go and walked away from the candlelight. Harry spoke up once more.
"So, you're telling me that you broke away from the Ministry and decided to-to side with Vol-"
"No! I didn't side with Voldemort!" Yorick said quietly, but still with great indignation. "I will not side with that trash! When I learned more about him! And who he worked with! I mean, his outlook on life's repulsively grim; he doesn't grasp the sacredness of life-that it shouldn't be toyed around with. He killed the innocent; he tortured his followers! What kind of rôle model's that?"
Harry's eyes began to water, thinking continuously of wanting to leave. He hated Yorick and he didn't really know why. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't take Voldemort lightly. Maybe it was because of his unexplainable kidnapping of Harry from Mrs. Figg's home. Or it might have just been his eyes. The eyes completely frightened Harry. They were so piercing, so garish-that they caused Harry severe unrest. He felt unsafe and exposed. Like Moody's magical eye, those eyes could penetrate through objects; they could see what might be on the other side. And Harry didn't like that at all....
"You're afraid of me aren't you?" Yorick smirked nastily. This sudden question made Harry whirl around.
"What d'you mean? How'd you-?" Harry was thunderstruck.
"I know this seems a bit of different territory for you, since they don't teach this at Hogwarts-"
"You know Legilimency?" Harry asked, immediately knowing why Yorick knew.
"In way, yes. I am," Yorick smiled devilishly, his green eyes twinkling brightly. "But I don't use it most the time, in respect really. I've been able to completely control my Legilimency powers. I'm able to use it without even using any of those arduous spells that mundane wizards do."
"You what?"
"Most spells are really unnecessary if one puts their whole self into their work. One has to empty himself fully of the Muggle-ish tendencies inside of him, until what's left is mere body cavity. Then, one can use all the energy at his disposal."
"I don't get you," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "I don't get you at all. So you say that wizards should have and could have been doing spells for all these years without incantations?"
"Oh no…" Yorick laughed and put an arm around Harry. Harry flinched but let the arm stay there. "No, Potter. There are spells one has to use the incantation for. But sometimes, one can use his entire energy and think upon the spell he is able to use. And perform it. Without any need of word of mouth. But, let me tell you, it's quite difficult. Hardly any wizard is powerful enough or intelligent enough to do that. For one, Dumbledore has it mastered well, in his own way. Not fully, but I applaud him well enough for it...."
At the sound of Dumbledore's name, Harry flinched again and drew slightly away from Yorick.
"You said you were going to tell me why you brought me here," Harry said quickly, trying to suppress the bitter feelings he was having at the present time as much as he possibly could.
"Oh yes," Yorick said. "I was going to give you some background first. About who I am-er-and was...."
There was a slight pause in Yorick's speech. He looked around once again and shook his head sullenly.
"We have to go someplace else. I don't feel safe here right now."
Yorick steered Harry forward, toward a gradual slope up out of the hollow. When Harry and Yorick reached the top, Yorick turned back toward the hollow, rose his right hand and snapped. The floating candles extinguished themselves and disappeared on the spot.
"Magic like that," Yorick said, with a touch of arrogance in his voice.
He pulled out his wand, set it ablaze inaudibly and walked into the woods; Harry followed slowly at his heels. As they ventured deeper into the woods, Harry began to feel contained and forcefully compressed as if the trees were leaning in upon him and trying to stop him from advancing further. From Yorick's wand light, the trees appeared ghostly pale but alive and haunting. They towered far above them stretching to the obscured heavens, to the skyless world overhead.
"Where are you going?" Harry questioned, striding fast now to keep up with Yorick's enormous strides.
"Far from where we just were, that's all you need to know right now," Yorick said after a few moments' silence.
Suddenly, as if it had magically appeared out of thin air, a large entranceway loomed in front of them. Trees were scattered in dense bunches all the way up to this entrance. On both sides of the opening were rocky cliffs that shot straight up to an undetectable height. The trees helped in concealing how far the dank walls reached.
"So, what's this place?" Harry asked as he reached the side of Yorick, who was inspecting the doorway in rapt silence.
Yorick reached out his left hand and touched one of the wooden edges of the door; a faint click sounded and the door slid to one side. An atrocious stench rushed out at them as the door opened. Harry clutched his nose tightly and tried not to breathe as much as he could. The odor was so powerful he could taste it.
Yorick looked down at Harry in slight amusement and walked through the doorway.
"You're not going to stay there, are you?" he asked amusedly.
"N-no," Harry said, gasping for any breathable air.
"Good," Yorick said. "You'll enjoy these caves. They're quite interesting...and safe...very safe...."
With that Harry made a step into the caves. The door immediately shut behind him as he made a couple more steps in Yorick's direction. He was stuck inside now, no way of going back.
"Follow me, Potter," Yorick said.
And so he did. The damp caves reeked with something fierce, mildewed and ancient. Water trickled through miniature perforations in the walls. The narrow path they traversed zigzagged left and right, at times over enormous chasms and through air-tight tunnels. Faint light would filter through certain overhead openings; faint gusts of bitterly cold winds would viciously tear over these openings as well.
To Harry it seemed like hours, walking through the many passageways and dead-end crawl-through spaces; the silence was unbearable, except for an occasional drip-drip of a faint stream alongside one of the paths. And then, finally, they reached what appeared to be an enormous arena-shaped room, cut out unevenly from the rock. The center of this room sported an enormous geyser. Water burst from underneath the floor and outward, creating a small circular moat around the fountain-like geyser. Benches wound around the geyser and more floating orange candles surrounded the geyser over some of the benches. Many different tunnels and walkways were etched out of the walls to this one space. Harry looked up at Yorick who peered down at Harry, smiling in a vague manner, his eyes sparkling mysteriously at him.
"Have a seat, Potter. Others might come and go while we're here, but we need not fear them...."
"Okay..." Harry said hesitantly, shivering madly. He had no coat or cloak on him; all his belongings still remained in Mrs. Figg's house.
He walked down the cracked and eroded steps toward one of the benches nearest to the geyser and the moat. He sat down and felt the frigidity of the seat coursing through his body. Why was this place so damp-so cold?
But Harry couldn't think about the temperatures of this inner room of the cave. Yorick had followed Harry and stood in the aisle looking down at him. He had extinguished his wand and was now placing it in one of his overcoat pockets.
"So, Potter," he said emotionlessly. "I guess I'll have to finish my explanation. I said I'd tell you why I brought you here."
Harry nodded slowly and edged over on the seat. Yorick sat down and drew a deep breath. At that moment, something inside of Harry made him shiver. It wasn't the cold; it was a premonition. Something that Yorick was about to say was going to be big. Harry could feel it.
Yes, it was going to be monumental; but it was not going to be pleasant. Not one bit...

Harry stood stock still; his feet felt like lead over the linoleum tiles. The grip that the hooded man possessed was nothing less than iron firm. The man continued to gaze piercingly at Harry, his line of sight upon his lightning-bolt scar. He nodded solemnly and made a slow calculating step backwards toward the back door.
Mrs. Figg remained next to the stove, standing around a jagged pattern of shattered porcelain dishes, staring in a stupor, her hands clasped firmly together, unsure of what movement to take.
"Potter," the hooded man said again with the same silky voice. "There's no need to dally around this place any longer. Let's go..."
But Harry didn't move. Not one inch.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked nervously.
"That's of no importance at the present time," the hooded man answered, his eyes continually sparkling like polished emeralds. "Come with me. Now!"
The various kneazles and cats started to edge closer to Harry and the hooded man, hissing and spitting warningly at him. Mrs. Figg continued to stay where she was, her face lined with fear and apprehension at what was to come. A long pause followed.... The three of them stared at each other, waiting for at least one of them to make the next move.
"Enough of this!" the hooded man finally shouted. "I've lingered here far too long!"
He made the first movement and started to drag Harry in his direction, out the doorway. Right on cue, Mrs. Figg ventured forward quickly with a shout of fury.
"You will not steal the Potter child!" Mrs. Figg screeched, raising her hand, which tightly held a large black frying pan.
The hooded man did not react quickly enough. Mrs. Figg let out another reverberating screech and pelted him over and over again with the larger-than-normal pan, the metallic clangs bouncing off the walls loudly.
"You. Will. Not. Take. Him. Away!" she screamed with all her might continuing her onslaught over the hooded man.
Harry ducked out of the way. He dashed back away from the dual... and slipped over the broken dishes still lying on the kitchen floor. The kneazles that were stalking around the tableau leapt away in fright. Harry's lower back throbbed with pain from the fall. He closed his eyes wishing for something to appease the pulse coursing through him.
And before he could open his eyes, a mind-numbing shriek issued forth from Mrs. Figg, much worse than her frenzied squeals only a moment before. Harry opened his eyes and saw Mrs. Figg spread-eagled on the floor, her eyes wide open, her body lifeless.
The hooded man stood over her with his wand pointed directly at Mrs. Figg, his hand shaking horribly from the sudden brawl. His hood had fallen down, revealing a disheveled mop of dark hair and a face that was already reddening from the continual thrashings that had been administered by Mrs. Figg's frying pan.
"Wh-what did you do?" Harry managed to gasp. "You-"
"There's no time to talk," the man said with an utmost severity. "I've probably caused too much of a disturbance already. You're coming with me NOW! No arguments!"
He quickly pulled the hood over his head and pointed the wand at Harry.
"You ready?"
Sparks began to issue forth from the wand. Then, without warning, ropes lurched out of the wand toward Harry, wrapping around him tightly until he was unable to move an inch.
Before Harry could react verbally to this action, the hooded man shouted a curse loudly through the air.
"Invisiblia!"
With that, the hooded man vanished. Harry looked around wildly, first at the place where the hooded man had been, then down at the body of Mrs. Figg, still sprawled out on the linoleum floor. Was she dead? It didn't appear that she was breathing....
"Okay! Now that we're both invisible-" the man shouted out of nowhere. Harry looked down and made a loud gurgling noise. He was completely invisible also; it was as if he was wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak!
At that precise moment, Harry felt dizzy. Mrs. Figg's kitchen became an indistinct blur. The half-open door in Harry's line of sight began to sway oddly, bending and swerving so violently that Harry's insides started churning into overdrive. Suddenly, the floor dropped out from underneath him, he was floating in midair-!
Then, a blast of ice-cold air collided with Harry's face; it was as if he was riding a fast-moving carnival ride on an extremely windy day. The wind stung his cheeks with its bitter cold fingers; Harry's hair blew haphazardly as he careened to some unknown location. Blurry blues, whites, and grays whirred past him at an unbelievably fast clip, the nausea that Harry possessed continuing to intensify. Stronger and stronger it increased until... he started slowing down.... The blurs became darker and darker; the brightness of Harry's surroundings faded away as sunlight does stealthily after dusk. The world through Harry's eyes kept on diminishing until only an incalculable darkness pervaded throughout him. The wind stopped. Harry felt no movement; he still couldn't move freely because of the tightly bound ropes around him. So he relaxed. And closed his eyes. To another blackness that seemed to never end....
* * *
"Potter! Wake up!"
Slowly and gradually, Harry forced open his eyes. The first picture he glimpsed upon was the same man who kidnapped him, his face now masked by candlelit shadows. Harry then looked around to find out where he was. It was a seemingly out-of-the-way place a little lower than the forest around it, like a miniature hollow. Dense branches arched overhead, blocking the moonlight or anything else from falling down upon the two of them. Numerous wide orange floating candles hovered around Harry and the hooded figure, providing the only illumination. At the present moment, the man was sitting on a gigantic decayed log; Harry was sprawled out on the floor, the ropes now gone, his body sore as if he had just run a long distance.
The man was not wearing a cape any longer; he did wear a tattered beige overcoat that was too small for him-that along with black pants and shoes. He also wore fingerless gloves that hadn't been washed in a good long while. The man sat there looking at Harry, illuminated faintly by the mysterious light of the candles.
"Are you all right?" he asked Harry, his face encased with concern.
"Y-yes- I guess..." Harry said faintly, not fully recovered from the ride from Mrs. Figg's.
A paused followed. Harry peered around for a bit, totally clueless as to where he was. He then looked back at the man.
"Who are you?"
"Well-" he paused looking at Harry with an intense concentration. "Let me put it to you this way: if I tell you my name, would you believe me?"
"I-I guess I would..." Harry said hesitantly, unable to decipher the hidden meaning behind the man's question.
"Because I could very well be lying, you know...." the man said, his eyes still ablaze, staring straight at Harry.
"Well, what other choice do I have?" Harry said irritably. "You've kidnapped me; you've brought me to this-this place! You've even killed Mrs. Fi-"
"Now wait just a minute!" the man hissed urgently. He got up from the log and crouched down, edging closer to Harry, who, in reflex, inched slowly back against the earthy floor.
"You killed her," Harry shouted angrily. "I saw her staring into space! I know what dead people look like!"
Harry's thoughts swam back to the end of his fourth year; Cedric Diggory was lying motionless on the ground in Harry's direct view, his face blankly staring out in shock; a snake-like rasping voice in the background flew at him, as if Harry had been transported directly to the graveyard just then. Harry blanched and shook his head violently, trying to suppress the reminiscent thoughts.
"Potter! You all right?"
At those words, Harry clasped a hand against the scar on his forehead. He looked at the man whose eyes were not even reflecting the candlelight. The green eyes glowed iridescently, like a glow-in-the-dark night-light.
"I-I'm...okay...." Harry lied. He tried not to look directly at the man's face.
"Your caretaker is not dead," the man said. "She's merely stunned for a longer amount of time. It'll wear off eventually...."
"I didn't hear the curse for it," Harry said scathingly. "You say ‘Stupefy' to stun someone."
"You're a smart little guy, you know," the man said, a slight amusement smothered in his words. "Well, they're not skiving off on teaching you at all, those slugs at Hogwarts. They're still teaching the important stuff there, sort of."
"Who are you?" Harry said abruptly. "You still haven't told me."
"Oh," the man smiled meekly and stood up straight, towering into the darkness that the enormous forest trees had showered down. "Well, I guess I shouldn't remain anonymous any longer...."
He walked a few steps away from where Harry lay and took off his gloves, stuffing them into the pockets of his overcoat. He faced Harry. A few of the candles that were levitating got in the way of a clear view of the man, but Harry didn't mind. If the eyes were covered, he felt safer. The eyes were too vivid to be allowed.
"My name is Yorick Hades," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid to invoke any outsider response, if there was any. "And I'm what the people in my line of work call an Authentic Unspeakable."
"Authentic?" Harry said, finally getting to his feet. "You're an Authentic Unspeakable? So you're related with the Ministry of Magic!"
"Oh no, no, no!" Yorick walked toward Harry making the candles float away with a brush of his hands. "I am in no way related to those incorrigible, unintelligent Neanderthals of the wizarding world!"
Harry stood shocked at the words that were flowing out of Yorick's mouth. Defaming the Ministry and talking horribly about it, as if it were rubbish, a complete abhorrence to his eyes...?
"What's the problem, kid?" he said with a surge of derision in his tone. "Can't realize the truth when it cuts deep?"
"What d'you mean?" Harry said dolefully. His eyes continued to stare down at the dirty ground around him and not at the man who had kidnapped him.
"You know perfectly well what I mean," Yorick said. Harry looked up and saw him standing next to the enormous log, about to take a seat down upon it.
"The Ministry's done some stupid things before," Harry said carefully, unsure of Yorick's true place in the wizarding world. "But-but they're not horrible! Well, most of them aren't horrible. There are a few people that are...are..."-(he remembered Dolores Umbridge, his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher last year, only for a moment, before smudging her out of his memory)-"...I mean, the Ministry's on our side now. You're on our side, right?"
"Ah, you mean against Voldemort?"
Yorick said the name with such power and, surprisingly, with such an enthusiastic vindictiveness that Harry shuddered and pulled even further away from him.
"What's the matter, Potter?" he sneered. "Afraid of his name, are you?"
"I-I'm not afraid of Voldemort's name," Harry replied, with a diminutive bravado. "I was just surprised that you'd-that you have such a vendetta against him."
"Well, he's a piece of filth, he is," Yorick said with unbelievable loathing. "Trying to use every evil trick in the book to be immortal. Trying to be bad, trying to be such a fearsome figure, trying to gain power over everyone and everything. But he's nothing. He's nothing to me."
Harry remained where he was, somewhat baffled thoughts frothing in his brain. Inside of himself, Harry laughed at the absurdity of what Yorick was saying. Not afraid of Voldemort? Throwing him completely away as nothing? As a weakling? How powerful is this guy? And what does he know really...? Harry himself had faced Voldemort five times already! Who was Yorick to tell him he was afraid of him?
"I'm freaking you out, aren't I?" Yorick said, his polytroposian tone of voice changing yet again. This time, he was calm, almost fatherly. "C'mon over here, Potter. You're probably wondering why I brought you here, right?"
Harry stood immovable, unwilling to move an inch toward Yorick.
"I'm not going to bite you or anything," he confirmed, sliding over on the upturned log so that Harry could sit down.
Harry walked slowly over, bent around a few of the floating candles, and crouched nearby, not looking at Yorick but still wordlessly paying attention.
"I told you that I'm not part of the Ministry. Well, that's true, I'm not. But I was a long time ago. Decades ago. Before you were born...."
Harry looked over at Yorick now; the man wasn't peering directly at Harry this time around. He was casting glances into the woods and at small crevices in the hollow wall, making sure that no one was listening on what he was saying.
"Before you were born Potter, I worked in the Department of Mysteries. It's a very secret place, holding many secrets from ordinary wizards. It's a place where I, and a handful of others, used to do experiments and answer imponderables and oddities that astounded even the smartest of wizards. Nowadays, new insights have ebbed slowly away; there are only about six or seven people who now work at the Ministry's department. Less actually after last year-"
Yorick paused, took out a tissue and blew his nose. Harry readjusted his legs and continued to gaze askance at Yorick, still avoiding his eyes.
"Potter, what I'm saying is that when Voldemort began to gain power, when he started his so-called ‘reign of terror', I was excruciatingly tempted to join him."
"You almost sided with Voldemort?" Harry yelled in alarm, utterly repulsed.
Yorick lurched forward and clasped Harry's mouth shut.
"Are you insane?" Yorick hissed angrily. "Do you want people to hear you?"
Harry tried to escape from Yorick's hold, but he gave in. That was when Yorick let go and walked away from the candlelight. Harry spoke up once more.
"So, you're telling me that you broke away from the Ministry and decided to-to side with Vol-"
"No! I didn't side with Voldemort!" Yorick said quietly, but still with great indignation. "I will not side with that trash! When I learned more about him! And who he worked with! I mean, his outlook on life's repulsively grim; he doesn't grasp the sacredness of life-that it shouldn't be toyed around with. He killed the innocent; he tortured his followers! What kind of rôle model's that?"
Harry's eyes began to water, thinking continuously of wanting to leave. He hated Yorick and he didn't really know why. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't take Voldemort lightly. Maybe it was because of his unexplainable kidnapping of Harry from Mrs. Figg's home. Or it might have just been his eyes. The eyes completely frightened Harry. They were so piercing, so garish-that they caused Harry severe unrest. He felt unsafe and exposed. Like Moody's magical eye, those eyes could penetrate through objects; they could see what might be on the other side. And Harry didn't like that at all....
"You're afraid of me aren't you?" Yorick smirked nastily. This sudden question made Harry whirl around.
"What d'you mean? How'd you-?" Harry was thunderstruck.
"I know this seems a bit of different territory for you, since they don't teach this at Hogwarts-"
"You know Legilimency?" Harry asked, immediately knowing why Yorick knew.
"In way, yes. I am," Yorick smiled devilishly, his green eyes twinkling brightly. "But I don't use it most the time, in respect really. I've been able to completely control my Legilimency powers. I'm able to use it without even using any of those arduous spells that mundane wizards do."
"You what?"
"Most spells are really unnecessary if one puts their whole self into their work. One has to empty himself fully of the Muggle-ish tendencies inside of him, until what's left is mere body cavity. Then, one can use all the energy at his disposal."
"I don't get you," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "I don't get you at all. So you say that wizards should have and could have been doing spells for all these years without incantations?"
"Oh no…" Yorick laughed and put an arm around Harry. Harry flinched but let the arm stay there. "No, Potter. There are spells one has to use the incantation for. But sometimes, one can use his entire energy and think upon the spell he is able to use. And perform it. Without any need of word of mouth. But, let me tell you, it's quite difficult. Hardly any wizard is powerful enough or intelligent enough to do that. For one, Dumbledore has it mastered well, in his own way. Not fully, but I applaud him well enough for it...."
At the sound of Dumbledore's name, Harry flinched again and drew slightly away from Yorick.
"You said you were going to tell me why you brought me here," Harry said quickly, trying to suppress the bitter feelings he was having at the present time as much as he possibly could.
"Oh yes," Yorick said. "I was going to give you some background first. About who I am-er-and was...."
There was a slight pause in Yorick's speech. He looked around once again and shook his head sullenly.
"We have to go someplace else. I don't feel safe here right now."
Yorick steered Harry forward, toward a gradual slope up out of the hollow. When Harry and Yorick reached the top, Yorick turned back toward the hollow, rose his right hand and snapped. The floating candles extinguished themselves and disappeared on the spot.
"Magic like that," Yorick said, with a touch of arrogance in his voice.
He pulled out his wand, set it ablaze inaudibly and walked into the woods; Harry followed slowly at his heels. As they ventured deeper into the woods, Harry began to feel contained and forcefully compressed as if the trees were leaning in upon him and trying to stop him from advancing further. From Yorick's wand light, the trees appeared ghostly pale but alive and haunting. They towered far above them stretching to the obscured heavens, to the skyless world overhead.
"Where are you going?" Harry questioned, striding fast now to keep up with Yorick's enormous strides.
"Far from where we just were, that's all you need to know right now," Yorick said after a few moments' silence.
Suddenly, as if it had magically appeared out of thin air, a large entranceway loomed in front of them. Trees were scattered in dense bunches all the way up to this entrance. On both sides of the opening were rocky cliffs that shot straight up to an undetectable height. The trees helped in concealing how far the dank walls reached.
"So, what's this place?" Harry asked as he reached the side of Yorick, who was inspecting the doorway in rapt silence.
Yorick reached out his left hand and touched one of the wooden edges of the door; a faint click sounded and the door slid to one side. An atrocious stench rushed out at them as the door opened. Harry clutched his nose tightly and tried not to breathe as much as he could. The odor was so powerful he could taste it.
Yorick looked down at Harry in slight amusement and walked through the doorway.
"You're not going to stay there, are you?" he asked amusedly.
"N-no," Harry said, gasping for any breathable air.
"Good," Yorick said. "You'll enjoy these caves. They're quite interesting...and safe...very safe...."
With that Harry made a step into the caves. The door immediately shut behind him as he made a couple more steps in Yorick's direction. He was stuck inside now, no way of going back.
"Follow me, Potter," Yorick said.
And so he did. The damp caves reeked with something fierce, mildewed and ancient. Water trickled through miniature perforations in the walls. The narrow path they traversed zigzagged left and right, at times over enormous chasms and through air-tight tunnels. Faint light would filter through certain overhead openings; faint gusts of bitterly cold winds would viciously tear over these openings as well.
To Harry it seemed like hours, walking through the many passageways and dead-end crawl-through spaces; the silence was unbearable, except for an occasional drip-drip of a faint stream alongside one of the paths. And then, finally, they reached what appeared to be an enormous arena-shaped room, cut out unevenly from the rock. The center of this room sported an enormous geyser. Water burst from underneath the floor and outward, creating a small circular moat around the fountain-like geyser. Benches wound around the geyser and more floating orange candles surrounded the geyser over some of the benches. Many different tunnels and walkways were etched out of the walls to this one space. Harry looked up at Yorick who peered down at Harry, smiling in a vague manner, his eyes sparkling mysteriously at him.
"Have a seat, Potter. Others might come and go while we're here, but we need not fear them...."
"Okay..." Harry said hesitantly, shivering madly. He had no coat or cloak on him; all his belongings still remained in Mrs. Figg's house.
He walked down the cracked and eroded steps toward one of the benches nearest to the geyser and the moat. He sat down and felt the frigidity of the seat coursing through his body. Why was this place so damp-so cold?
But Harry couldn't think about the temperatures of this inner room of the cave. Yorick had followed Harry and stood in the aisle looking down at him. He had extinguished his wand and was now placing it in one of his overcoat pockets.
"So, Potter," he said emotionlessly. "I guess I'll have to finish my explanation. I said I'd tell you why I brought you here."
Harry nodded slowly and edged over on the seat. Yorick sat down and drew a deep breath. At that moment, something inside of Harry made him shiver. It wasn't the cold; it was a premonition. Something that Yorick was about to say was going to be big. Harry could feel it.
Yes, it was going to be monumental; but it was not going to be pleasant. Not one bit...

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Posted by rockygirl at October 21, 2003 08:57 AM