InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Final Battle ❯ Conquering Hero ( Chapter 7 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Kapt. Nemo 
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a...chapter summary that's not going to give away any of the story!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.12.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 1.8K | Status: Completed
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a...chapter summary that's not going to give away any of the story!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.12.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 1.8K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Do you think I’d be writing a fanfiction of my own series?
RECAP: Kagome used the last of her strength to arch her head, her glazed eyes searching in the meager light, settling on a particular figure.
“Hello, Kikyou...”
Had she not already been paralyzed, Kagome would have fainted dead on the spot.
Chapter 7
Harry looked around for Kagome, frowning in worry. ‘Where has she gone? It’s been nearly fifteen minutes...’ He twisted his head and checked out Hermione and Ron, the latter having been knocked out cold and in a crumpled heap when the spell had caused him to lean in too closely for Hermione’s personal comfort. She was now peacefully enjoying the nighttime spectacle, her limbs free to hold her head up restfully.
“Hermione, I’m just going to go look for Kagome, I’ll be back in a minute,” Harry said, taking it upon himself to shift his unconscious friend into a less-crooked lying position. Hermione merely grunted in acknowledgment, her attention now focused completely on the streaming ribbons of fire and light.
Striding over in puzzlement, Harry looked about at the vendors, and found a Popcorn cart situated some twenty meters away from where Ron and Hermione were sitting (and lying). He looked around, and was about to search for any other Popcorn carts in the area, when four filled cartons lying spilled on the ground caught his eye. Putting two and two together (not quite literally), he looked up at the vendor, growing worried.
“Excuse me sir, but have you seen a young witch buy four Popcorns recently anytime in the past fifteen minutes? She had dark hair, and a bright green and white sundress on...”
The burly man scratched his head with a buttery finger, vaguely recalling the customer. “Yeah, I reckon she bought ‘bout fer...She didna pay fer’t, tho’.”
“She didn’t?” Harry questioned curiously. Kagome wasn’t the sort to steal Popcorn...
“No. Some fair-haird’ bloke treated ‘er. In fact, ‘ee paid me mer than ‘ee needed ter...arrogant little feller. As if Oy needed some rich kid’s charity! Not that Oy mind too much, no, no...” The vendor seemed to talk to himself, as Harry’s lips pursed, feeling very secure in knowing the identity of the ‘arrogant little feller.’ He made to go back to the crowds in search of the two subjects of conversation, as the vendor continued.
“‘N moy opinion, she ne’er shoulda gone wit ‘im fer a drink...seemed ‘ee had mer up ’is sleeve ‘n that! Hope she learns yer can’t–“
“Where did you say she went?!” Harry looked up, an oncoming sense of dread filling his belly. The vendor looked at him curiously.
“Well, Oy canna say fer sher...” He bit his hairy lip. “But Oy think ‘ee musta taken ‘er...that way?” The vendor lamely pointed down the street. “Yeah, it musta been. ‘At’s where ‘ee dropped the Popcorns...’ee didna walk too far away, seein’ as Oy could still hear ‘em gibbering, not that Oy eavesdrop, mind ye...”
The vendor trailed off, lost in his own intellectual musings as Harry had long since sped off in the vendor’s suggested direction.
He didn’t know where he was exactly running to, nor was he completely aware of what it was he was looking for, but after about five minutes, he was tipped off by a clue that brought to mind a notion so vile, so wretched, he very nearly wished he didn’t receive it at all.
His scar began to burn.
__________________________________________________ _________________________________
Kagome stared at the menacing figure that loomed before her, as piercing, red-violet irises struck her heart like laser beams. Donned in black and heavy leather boots that softly clicked with each ominous footfall, he leisurely paced.
“Oh, that’s right. What’s that name you’re assuming now? Kagome?” An eerie cackle filled the miasma-coated air. “It’s all the same. When your clay shell broke, your soul was returned to one large piece. Surely, your kiss would prove a most satisfying banquet to a starving Dementor. Loathsome little creatures, aren’t they? My own design. I must say, they are a far cry from that sweet little Kanna...she was a little bit easier on the eyes. But, looks don’t always do the job, as the past has clearly proven...”
“Na...Naraku!” Kagome managed to choke out, her sapphire orbs clouding in fear at the heat of his ruby ones.
“Yes, my dear. I’m so glad you remember me...although, and I hate to brag, but I’m told I’m a hard one to forget. Only, now I assume a different name. I have reinvented myself! Thanks to you, I have once more been reduced to a humanly form...only this time, I have the power of the occult. And the knowledge of what will make me once more immortal...”
Kagome shuddered, gagging a little on the putrid air. Naraku had changed quite a bit in appearance, but his evil aura was the same. And she could never forget those cruel, red-violet eyes...
“Master, would you have me prepare the portal?” A squeaky, sniveling voice broke Kagome’s cloud of thought. She suddenly realized there were others in the room. The one who spoke was a short, stout, filthy man of middle-age and bucked teeth. He stood next to Draco, who looked slightly green as if he were about to puke, and in front of him was a tall, rather beautiful man who looked to be his father, and reminded Kagome distantly of a certain ruthless demon lord of the western lands. On the wall just behind them, she spied a strange set of markings carved into the black brick, a symmetrical shape with foreign characters on each of the sides. She also noted the presence of a few others in her peripheral.
“No, Peter, that’s my job. And not ‘til I have her blood ready...Bellatrix! The dagger.” Kagome’s eyes widened as a tall, thin woman languidly traipsed from her far left, a long, slender silver dagger in her possession. With reverent regard to her hellish lord, she bowed before him, delicately presenting him with the deadly, gleaming instrument.
“Your Lordship,” she murmured, a husky lilt to her voice.
He accepted the dagger and fiddled with it thoughtlessly, once more pacing in front of Kagome. “Yes, they no longer call me ‘Naraku,’ as I’m sure you’ve heard...” He arched his brows expectantly.
“‘Voldemort’...” Kagome mumbled, having already realized the two feared identities were one.
“Ah, I see. You must have been spending time with that little friend of mine...Harry Potter.” He sneered, his fiery eyes flashing bright crimson. “A bothersome little human. Although, his...tenacity...is something to be admired. He blatantly refuses to die!...Quite like one particular little hanyou we all know and love.” Voldemort paused, and then suddenly swooped down, his face barely centimeters away from Kagome’s. “But then, even he finally bade this world a fond fare-well. And whose doing was that, should I ask?”
He lazily traced a long, ivory finger through her black tresses. “And I’ll bet you’re wanting to know how I survived, while your precious little dog did not!” He abruptly grabbed a fistful of her hair, causing her to wince slightly in pain as he dragged her to the wall with the markings, dagger in his other hand. Those who stood near the wall promptly made room, and Malfoy subconsciously turned his head away from the abuse of the girl.
Voldemort released his hold on Kagome’s hair and rolled her on her back. Allowing her sore head to lay limp on the ground, she looked up at him with angry eyes. Voldemort simply snickered at her glare, and continued.
“To be quite honest, I don’t know myself. All that I remember, is that when you–-or that shell of you–purified me and stripped me of the jewel, I was but a mere whisper of a youkai spirit. A half-entity...your foolish wish could not touch me, however, for I was far, far away by the time you made it. Not being made much of anything, I found it somewhat difficult to stay in one place. Whether or not I even remained in the same dimension is still to be disputed...” Voldemort tapped his chin with the dagger in contemplation. “Well, at some point, I had found myself back at square one. Onigumo, that pathetic, immobile creature had no hope but to collect every evil thought in his mind, and to summon all of hell’s life into his body...thus, turning human into Youkai.
“My collection, however, amounted in something rather the opposite. Youkai became human. I took the form of a fetus, and was birthed by a human.” Kagome looked up at him in disbelief and sheer disgust. The others in the room looked on in interest, all of them hearing this truth of Voldemort’s life for the first time. “Of course...I didn’t remember much of anything. Oh, there were flashes of madness, images of my past existence, but I had to wait sixteen years before I even had an inkling of who I was. When I finally gathered my memories of being Naraku, I had already gathered quite a following.”
Kagome’s glare darkened. “Y-you...always did...re...rely on otherss...to do your d-dirty work...” She spat.
“Indeed. But there’s one thing left, my dear.” Voldemort started to unlace the ties of his black robe. “When I first recovered my memory, I was, to say the least, elated. No recollection of Onigumo’s...no bothersome passions left untended to...no...feelings to get in the way of my killing you, or anyone else. I was freesomething so weak as lust of the flesh.
“But, I was unfortunately proven wrong, and day by day, I began to grow a mark of the most unusual shape on my body...” Even before Voldemort had doffed his robe, Kagome knew exactly what to expect.
Voldemort turned around, his back muscles playing on his pallor, highlighted in by the meager light against the shadows. There, right in the center, was the all-too familiar mark of the spider.
The mark of Onigumo.
The mark of Naraku.
The mark of evil.
“So...” Voldemort turned, the sharply defined muscles on his torso rippling with his every move, his skin seeming to glow. “There seems to be only one solution to end all of my problems. My first, being my disgusting weakness to you. The second,” he stepped towards the wall of the markings, from where his other followers had cleared away, “being the problem of my human form, itself. See, you still have, within your possession, the power of the jewel.”
Voldemort crouched down, the dagger sparkling between his fingers. “It’s very essence flows within your veins.” Gently, he caressed her hand with the flatness of the blade, cool steel softly smoothing itself over her limp flesh. “The undeniable purity of your blood is partially the reason why you and you alone are so susceptible to the miasma. After all, those with the purest hearts suffer the most.” The dagger’s blade began to bite into the fleshy part of her palm, drawing a thin line of scarlet, just ending at her wrist.
“Do you know the power your blood will have when mixed with black magic, Kagome? Do you dare to find out?” His eyes bore into her, the blade digging in with increased intensity, causing Kagome’s eyes to well up and her face to slightly contort in a silent scream of pain. Warm blood slowly began to pool around the blade, and it began to seep into a ridge in the metal, acting as a straw.
Her wrist opened, pools of red flowing freely, and it was a few hour-long seconds before Voldemort removed the dagger from her wound. Casually, he stood up, and lifted the dagger to the center of the shape carved into the black brick.
“Did you know that a wish can be voided out, Kagome?”
And with that, he sank the blade into the wall.
Bright red streamed into the markings slowly, a foreboding presence filling the air. The warm liquid of life slowly seeped into the final remaining characters, and Voldemort removed the dagger from the wall. Quickly, he grasped the blade, and with a flash, removed the flesh bearing the mark on his back.
A slight gasp was emitted from the parted lips of his followers as he grabbed the ripped gore and slapped it onto the center of the wall, where the dagger had been before.
With a voice not of this earth, he began to chant.
No one understood what he spoke, and no one knew what language it was that he was speaking. All Kagome knew was that it was the closest thing to Hell she had ever heard.
The markings where the blood had seeped began to glow an electric light, and the wall resembled a large web. Suddenly, a force jolted the room–and quite possibly, all of Hogsmeade–and a harsh wind came forth from the wall.
It was then, that Kagome realized that there was no wall. It had become a portal.
The wind roared for a long while, and it was a few brief seconds before the room’s occupants had realized that both wind and chanting had ceased. Kagome opened her eyes, unaware she had been squeezing them shut, to look at the portal.
From the other side, she could hear a soft rustling of trees. She could faintly make out the mocha of a sky before dawn, and smelled the unique scent of pine and incense...
“No...” She whispered, her dread coming forth through her words.
“Oh, yes, Kagome. Feudal Japan...only, I’d wager, about 50 years later? Those youkai will be very cranky after such a long sleep, I’d wager.”
“You couldn’t...” Kagome’s mind raced. She was beginning to regain some feeling in her legs, as the miasma slowly spread out in the forest. Naraku leisurely walked around her, lowering the dagger just above her left breast. The others gathering their robes and looking at the portal with fright and wonder. “It’s a shame they can’t reap their vengeance on a corpse.”
And with an evil glint in his eye, He raised the instrument high above his head.
_____________________________________________ ____________________________________
“Woah!&# 8221; Harry was knocked on his face, as the town was affected by a strange jolt. Fearing the worst, he followed his gut, seeking out the source of his scar’s pain, and the place where Kagome might be kept.
Turning a corner, he caught sight of a shady, deserted-looking bar, carrying faded, black letters on a plaque, reading; “ERZEBETH’S EDEN: Since 1560.”
After trying to open the doors, he whipped out his wand. “Alohomora, dammit!” He demanded, the doors swinging open and nearly giving him a bloody nose.
From inside the bar, he saw a thin sliver of light coming from the back door. “Penitrario!” The door blasted open, with a few following thuds behind it. “Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!” Not quick enough to respond to his machine-gun-round of spells, the line of witches and wizards were disarmed as wands flew everywhere.
If Harry’s scar was on fire, then his eyes were ablaze at the sight before him.
Death Eaters were gathered at every corner of the modest room, a strange hole in the wall at the back. Kagome lay near the wall, her blood poring around her wrist. Voldemort had a long, silver dagger clutched in his hands, the blade raised above the girl’s heart, her frightened eyes locking on Harry.
Voldemort sneered at the enraged Wizard who stood as menacingly as possible in the door way. He relaxed, bringing the dagger at Kagome’s throat, slightly pricking the place of her pulse. “Ah, Harry...should have known you might’ve dropped by. Pity you’re too late, really...although, it might be interesting to see how you’d fare with full-blooded, restored youkai.” He snickered.
“Let her go, Voldemort.” Harry threatened, his wand pointed in his direction.
“Come, come now...you know better. When my dagger is so deliciously close to leaking the life out of our darling Kagome–“ he added pressure, a trickle of red released from her skin, “–one would be wise to lower his wand and cease making demands.”
“She has nothing to do with you, let her go!”
“Ah, but she does. You know not of our past, Harry.” Voldemort’s teeth glittered threateningly.
“Expelliarmus!” Bellatrix had managed to get a hold of her own wand, and Harry’s flew out of his hands as he was knocked to the ground, seeing stars as his head banged against the brick wall.
“Now, there’s a good boy...” Voldemort laughed. He removed the dagger from Kagome’s throat, and raised it once more, high above her chest.
“Sayounara, Kagome-chan.”
Just as he was about to go forth in plunging the dagger downwards, a pulse, somewhere, sounded throughout the room. The steady, disembodied heart-beat quickened steadily, and Voldemort grew annoyed. Harry tried moving as he saw Voldemort finally let his clasped hands fall with the dagger, so soon to seal Kagome’s fate.
Kagome clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, awaiting that blow, when suddenly, a familiar voice cut like claws through the air...
“KAGOMEEE!”
______ ___________________________________________________________________________ _
Alrighty, then! This looks like as good a place as any to stop, don’t you think? Me too. Until my next update, adieu!
RECAP: Kagome used the last of her strength to arch her head, her glazed eyes searching in the meager light, settling on a particular figure.
“Hello, Kikyou...”
Had she not already been paralyzed, Kagome would have fainted dead on the spot.
Chapter 7
Harry looked around for Kagome, frowning in worry. ‘Where has she gone? It’s been nearly fifteen minutes...’ He twisted his head and checked out Hermione and Ron, the latter having been knocked out cold and in a crumpled heap when the spell had caused him to lean in too closely for Hermione’s personal comfort. She was now peacefully enjoying the nighttime spectacle, her limbs free to hold her head up restfully.
“Hermione, I’m just going to go look for Kagome, I’ll be back in a minute,” Harry said, taking it upon himself to shift his unconscious friend into a less-crooked lying position. Hermione merely grunted in acknowledgment, her attention now focused completely on the streaming ribbons of fire and light.
Striding over in puzzlement, Harry looked about at the vendors, and found a Popcorn cart situated some twenty meters away from where Ron and Hermione were sitting (and lying). He looked around, and was about to search for any other Popcorn carts in the area, when four filled cartons lying spilled on the ground caught his eye. Putting two and two together (not quite literally), he looked up at the vendor, growing worried.
“Excuse me sir, but have you seen a young witch buy four Popcorns recently anytime in the past fifteen minutes? She had dark hair, and a bright green and white sundress on...”
The burly man scratched his head with a buttery finger, vaguely recalling the customer. “Yeah, I reckon she bought ‘bout fer...She didna pay fer’t, tho’.”
“She didn’t?” Harry questioned curiously. Kagome wasn’t the sort to steal Popcorn...
“No. Some fair-haird’ bloke treated ‘er. In fact, ‘ee paid me mer than ‘ee needed ter...arrogant little feller. As if Oy needed some rich kid’s charity! Not that Oy mind too much, no, no...” The vendor seemed to talk to himself, as Harry’s lips pursed, feeling very secure in knowing the identity of the ‘arrogant little feller.’ He made to go back to the crowds in search of the two subjects of conversation, as the vendor continued.
“‘N moy opinion, she ne’er shoulda gone wit ‘im fer a drink...seemed ‘ee had mer up ’is sleeve ‘n that! Hope she learns yer can’t–“
“Where did you say she went?!” Harry looked up, an oncoming sense of dread filling his belly. The vendor looked at him curiously.
“Well, Oy canna say fer sher...” He bit his hairy lip. “But Oy think ‘ee musta taken ‘er...that way?” The vendor lamely pointed down the street. “Yeah, it musta been. ‘At’s where ‘ee dropped the Popcorns...’ee didna walk too far away, seein’ as Oy could still hear ‘em gibbering, not that Oy eavesdrop, mind ye...”
The vendor trailed off, lost in his own intellectual musings as Harry had long since sped off in the vendor’s suggested direction.
He didn’t know where he was exactly running to, nor was he completely aware of what it was he was looking for, but after about five minutes, he was tipped off by a clue that brought to mind a notion so vile, so wretched, he very nearly wished he didn’t receive it at all.
His scar began to burn.
__________________________________________________ _________________________________
Kagome stared at the menacing figure that loomed before her, as piercing, red-violet irises struck her heart like laser beams. Donned in black and heavy leather boots that softly clicked with each ominous footfall, he leisurely paced.
“Oh, that’s right. What’s that name you’re assuming now? Kagome?” An eerie cackle filled the miasma-coated air. “It’s all the same. When your clay shell broke, your soul was returned to one large piece. Surely, your kiss would prove a most satisfying banquet to a starving Dementor. Loathsome little creatures, aren’t they? My own design. I must say, they are a far cry from that sweet little Kanna...she was a little bit easier on the eyes. But, looks don’t always do the job, as the past has clearly proven...”
“Na...Naraku!” Kagome managed to choke out, her sapphire orbs clouding in fear at the heat of his ruby ones.
“Yes, my dear. I’m so glad you remember me...although, and I hate to brag, but I’m told I’m a hard one to forget. Only, now I assume a different name. I have reinvented myself! Thanks to you, I have once more been reduced to a humanly form...only this time, I have the power of the occult. And the knowledge of what will make me once more immortal...”
Kagome shuddered, gagging a little on the putrid air. Naraku had changed quite a bit in appearance, but his evil aura was the same. And she could never forget those cruel, red-violet eyes...
“Master, would you have me prepare the portal?” A squeaky, sniveling voice broke Kagome’s cloud of thought. She suddenly realized there were others in the room. The one who spoke was a short, stout, filthy man of middle-age and bucked teeth. He stood next to Draco, who looked slightly green as if he were about to puke, and in front of him was a tall, rather beautiful man who looked to be his father, and reminded Kagome distantly of a certain ruthless demon lord of the western lands. On the wall just behind them, she spied a strange set of markings carved into the black brick, a symmetrical shape with foreign characters on each of the sides. She also noted the presence of a few others in her peripheral.
“No, Peter, that’s my job. And not ‘til I have her blood ready...Bellatrix! The dagger.” Kagome’s eyes widened as a tall, thin woman languidly traipsed from her far left, a long, slender silver dagger in her possession. With reverent regard to her hellish lord, she bowed before him, delicately presenting him with the deadly, gleaming instrument.
“Your Lordship,” she murmured, a husky lilt to her voice.
He accepted the dagger and fiddled with it thoughtlessly, once more pacing in front of Kagome. “Yes, they no longer call me ‘Naraku,’ as I’m sure you’ve heard...” He arched his brows expectantly.
“‘Voldemort’...” Kagome mumbled, having already realized the two feared identities were one.
“Ah, I see. You must have been spending time with that little friend of mine...Harry Potter.” He sneered, his fiery eyes flashing bright crimson. “A bothersome little human. Although, his...tenacity...is something to be admired. He blatantly refuses to die!...Quite like one particular little hanyou we all know and love.” Voldemort paused, and then suddenly swooped down, his face barely centimeters away from Kagome’s. “But then, even he finally bade this world a fond fare-well. And whose doing was that, should I ask?”
He lazily traced a long, ivory finger through her black tresses. “And I’ll bet you’re wanting to know how I survived, while your precious little dog did not!” He abruptly grabbed a fistful of her hair, causing her to wince slightly in pain as he dragged her to the wall with the markings, dagger in his other hand. Those who stood near the wall promptly made room, and Malfoy subconsciously turned his head away from the abuse of the girl.
Voldemort released his hold on Kagome’s hair and rolled her on her back. Allowing her sore head to lay limp on the ground, she looked up at him with angry eyes. Voldemort simply snickered at her glare, and continued.
“To be quite honest, I don’t know myself. All that I remember, is that when you–-or that shell of you–purified me and stripped me of the jewel, I was but a mere whisper of a youkai spirit. A half-entity...your foolish wish could not touch me, however, for I was far, far away by the time you made it. Not being made much of anything, I found it somewhat difficult to stay in one place. Whether or not I even remained in the same dimension is still to be disputed...” Voldemort tapped his chin with the dagger in contemplation. “Well, at some point, I had found myself back at square one. Onigumo, that pathetic, immobile creature had no hope but to collect every evil thought in his mind, and to summon all of hell’s life into his body...thus, turning human into Youkai.
“My collection, however, amounted in something rather the opposite. Youkai became human. I took the form of a fetus, and was birthed by a human.” Kagome looked up at him in disbelief and sheer disgust. The others in the room looked on in interest, all of them hearing this truth of Voldemort’s life for the first time. “Of course...I didn’t remember much of anything. Oh, there were flashes of madness, images of my past existence, but I had to wait sixteen years before I even had an inkling of who I was. When I finally gathered my memories of being Naraku, I had already gathered quite a following.”
Kagome’s glare darkened. “Y-you...always did...re...rely on otherss...to do your d-dirty work...” She spat.
“Indeed. But there’s one thing left, my dear.” Voldemort started to unlace the ties of his black robe. “When I first recovered my memory, I was, to say the least, elated. No recollection of Onigumo’s...no bothersome passions left untended to...no...feelings to get in the way of my killing you, or anyone else. I was freesomething so weak as lust of the flesh.
“But, I was unfortunately proven wrong, and day by day, I began to grow a mark of the most unusual shape on my body...” Even before Voldemort had doffed his robe, Kagome knew exactly what to expect.
Voldemort turned around, his back muscles playing on his pallor, highlighted in by the meager light against the shadows. There, right in the center, was the all-too familiar mark of the spider.
The mark of Onigumo.
The mark of Naraku.
The mark of evil.
“So...” Voldemort turned, the sharply defined muscles on his torso rippling with his every move, his skin seeming to glow. “There seems to be only one solution to end all of my problems. My first, being my disgusting weakness to you. The second,” he stepped towards the wall of the markings, from where his other followers had cleared away, “being the problem of my human form, itself. See, you still have, within your possession, the power of the jewel.”
Voldemort crouched down, the dagger sparkling between his fingers. “It’s very essence flows within your veins.” Gently, he caressed her hand with the flatness of the blade, cool steel softly smoothing itself over her limp flesh. “The undeniable purity of your blood is partially the reason why you and you alone are so susceptible to the miasma. After all, those with the purest hearts suffer the most.” The dagger’s blade began to bite into the fleshy part of her palm, drawing a thin line of scarlet, just ending at her wrist.
“Do you know the power your blood will have when mixed with black magic, Kagome? Do you dare to find out?” His eyes bore into her, the blade digging in with increased intensity, causing Kagome’s eyes to well up and her face to slightly contort in a silent scream of pain. Warm blood slowly began to pool around the blade, and it began to seep into a ridge in the metal, acting as a straw.
Her wrist opened, pools of red flowing freely, and it was a few hour-long seconds before Voldemort removed the dagger from her wound. Casually, he stood up, and lifted the dagger to the center of the shape carved into the black brick.
“Did you know that a wish can be voided out, Kagome?”
And with that, he sank the blade into the wall.
Bright red streamed into the markings slowly, a foreboding presence filling the air. The warm liquid of life slowly seeped into the final remaining characters, and Voldemort removed the dagger from the wall. Quickly, he grasped the blade, and with a flash, removed the flesh bearing the mark on his back.
A slight gasp was emitted from the parted lips of his followers as he grabbed the ripped gore and slapped it onto the center of the wall, where the dagger had been before.
With a voice not of this earth, he began to chant.
No one understood what he spoke, and no one knew what language it was that he was speaking. All Kagome knew was that it was the closest thing to Hell she had ever heard.
The markings where the blood had seeped began to glow an electric light, and the wall resembled a large web. Suddenly, a force jolted the room–and quite possibly, all of Hogsmeade–and a harsh wind came forth from the wall.
It was then, that Kagome realized that there was no wall. It had become a portal.
The wind roared for a long while, and it was a few brief seconds before the room’s occupants had realized that both wind and chanting had ceased. Kagome opened her eyes, unaware she had been squeezing them shut, to look at the portal.
From the other side, she could hear a soft rustling of trees. She could faintly make out the mocha of a sky before dawn, and smelled the unique scent of pine and incense...
“No...” She whispered, her dread coming forth through her words.
“Oh, yes, Kagome. Feudal Japan...only, I’d wager, about 50 years later? Those youkai will be very cranky after such a long sleep, I’d wager.”
“You couldn’t...” Kagome’s mind raced. She was beginning to regain some feeling in her legs, as the miasma slowly spread out in the forest. Naraku leisurely walked around her, lowering the dagger just above her left breast. The others gathering their robes and looking at the portal with fright and wonder. “It’s a shame they can’t reap their vengeance on a corpse.”
And with an evil glint in his eye, He raised the instrument high above his head.
_____________________________________________ ____________________________________
“Woah!&# 8221; Harry was knocked on his face, as the town was affected by a strange jolt. Fearing the worst, he followed his gut, seeking out the source of his scar’s pain, and the place where Kagome might be kept.
Turning a corner, he caught sight of a shady, deserted-looking bar, carrying faded, black letters on a plaque, reading; “ERZEBETH’S EDEN: Since 1560.”
After trying to open the doors, he whipped out his wand. “Alohomora, dammit!” He demanded, the doors swinging open and nearly giving him a bloody nose.
From inside the bar, he saw a thin sliver of light coming from the back door. “Penitrario!” The door blasted open, with a few following thuds behind it. “Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!” Not quick enough to respond to his machine-gun-round of spells, the line of witches and wizards were disarmed as wands flew everywhere.
If Harry’s scar was on fire, then his eyes were ablaze at the sight before him.
Death Eaters were gathered at every corner of the modest room, a strange hole in the wall at the back. Kagome lay near the wall, her blood poring around her wrist. Voldemort had a long, silver dagger clutched in his hands, the blade raised above the girl’s heart, her frightened eyes locking on Harry.
Voldemort sneered at the enraged Wizard who stood as menacingly as possible in the door way. He relaxed, bringing the dagger at Kagome’s throat, slightly pricking the place of her pulse. “Ah, Harry...should have known you might’ve dropped by. Pity you’re too late, really...although, it might be interesting to see how you’d fare with full-blooded, restored youkai.” He snickered.
“Let her go, Voldemort.” Harry threatened, his wand pointed in his direction.
“Come, come now...you know better. When my dagger is so deliciously close to leaking the life out of our darling Kagome–“ he added pressure, a trickle of red released from her skin, “–one would be wise to lower his wand and cease making demands.”
“She has nothing to do with you, let her go!”
“Ah, but she does. You know not of our past, Harry.” Voldemort’s teeth glittered threateningly.
“Expelliarmus!” Bellatrix had managed to get a hold of her own wand, and Harry’s flew out of his hands as he was knocked to the ground, seeing stars as his head banged against the brick wall.
“Now, there’s a good boy...” Voldemort laughed. He removed the dagger from Kagome’s throat, and raised it once more, high above her chest.
“Sayounara, Kagome-chan.”
Just as he was about to go forth in plunging the dagger downwards, a pulse, somewhere, sounded throughout the room. The steady, disembodied heart-beat quickened steadily, and Voldemort grew annoyed. Harry tried moving as he saw Voldemort finally let his clasped hands fall with the dagger, so soon to seal Kagome’s fate.
Kagome clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, awaiting that blow, when suddenly, a familiar voice cut like claws through the air...
“KAGOMEEE!”
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Alrighty, then! This looks like as good a place as any to stop, don’t you think? Me too. Until my next update, adieu!