Title: Regnava nel Silenzio
Summary: In a world that's unaware of the Orders' War, a student mage, Harry Potter, must warn the other Orders of the coming evil. Things don't go well when he runs into a student mage, Draco Malfoy, who engages a fencing duel with an inexperienced Harry. The road already begins with a hitch; how will the rest of the journey be?
Disclaimer: The story here is non-profit and for purely entertainment purposes; nor is it affiliated to Bloomsbury or any other publishers of Harry Potter. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the plot belongs to me.
Author's Notes: So what am I doing uploading this when I've got other stories going too? Well… sorry but this idea has been bouncing in my head while I've been trying to write the next chapters for my other fanfics. The only way to get rid of it was to write it down. Which I did. I tweaked it a bit and realized that it had some potential… so here I am.
You might be wondering about that non-magic bit, since I do say that there are magic tricks involved. Well, I make a distinction between magic and magic tricks. Harry's doing the latter, as in, it's not really magic, just smoke and mirrors kind of thing.
And about pairings…I'd rather not have any of that here. Maybe some moments between Ron and Hermione or some other characters… I just don't want that to get in the way of all the fun I'm going to have with this. The main characters happen to center around Harry and Draco but there isn't anything going on between them! You could imagine and it could work that way… but officially, nothing's happening.
Now onto the story!!
During the Magi Ages, magic users of all kinds were divided into orders. Orders of magic, who would train only the best in both magic and fencing. The main thing, also, was protecting themselves from exposure to the people who knew not of magic and were not able to use them. For a time, there was nothing to worry about. The orders coincided with each other without fault, and they need not have worried about ordinary people persecuting them. For how could they? They did not know of their existence.
As times thrived, so did the Order's power. The small orders divided and formed, finally ending at 13 Orders. The last, being known only as the Order of 13. Each Order worked hard at perfecting their specialties, becoming more obsessed with finding ways of doing things. Convenient things with the use of magic. Each order's power grew, at an alarming rate. And as you know, absolute power corrupts --absolutely--. There was definite unrest among the orders, especially one. The Order of the Serpent. Their beliefs were extreme, bordering on insanity when it came to magic. They believed they should use abilities to obtain immortality, so they could reign over the non-magic users.
A battle was waged, but it soon spilled over. Men, women, and children fled from their homes, not knowing where it was safe to go. And indeed, there truly was no safe place. They had no idea of what was happening, for they did not understand magic. Grand cities were crumbling. The roads were filled with holes. The grain fields were brown and choked with weeds. The trees were stunted and burnt.
The Orders saw the destruction created by their battle, and they felt pity. Remorse. So, a decision was made.
The twelve Orders pulled together, and they scattered the members of the Order, banishing them to the places of desolation. And their beautiful leader of the Order, Eáránë, trapped in a crystal that was soon planted inside a withering tree. She would be placed under the watch of the final Order, The Order of 13, who would see that the tree was kept from sight.
The years spent after where upon fixing what has been broken, and restoring the peace. A period of silence once again, soon the people were untroubled and the Orders continued their traditions. And slowly, bit by bit, each Order lost contact with the others. Isolated amongst their sole lands protected with wards of all kinds, carrying out to teach their students, merely to make sure that they were able to control their magic.
Finally, the Order of 13 stopped contacting the other Orders as they had done to them. And life continued.
No one knew, but soon, the fallen Order would come back. Regrouping, and finding their lost members. Finding their leader. Because by that time, the Orders' would have their guards down from peaceful times. And like a serpent, they would strike.
Regnava nel Silenzio
Chapter One: Rough Introductions
A young boy, slender and elfin features, with raven tresses, lightly decked with what seemed like royal purple colors, passed through an archway into what must be the solarium -- His name was Harry Potter.
A circular room covered by a glass dome. A thicket of maples spring up in the middle of the solarium, casting a pleasant shade over the entire room. Creepers twine their way up the walls -- twisting around bronze water pipes. A patch of mushrooms sits undisturbed near the archway.
Smiling to himself, he remembered the first time he had walked here.
He had reached down to tug at one of the ivory-colored stalks.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
He dropped the mushroom instantly.
"That's a destroying angel," Peisinoë explained, "One cap of that could kill you."
"Why would you keep something like that in a garden?" I had asked, gawking openly at the mushroom that, only five seconds earlier, had looked so innocent.
"Good for potions." Peisinoë responded.
End of Flashback
He was quite young, but had an insatiable curiosity. He had toned it down somewhat, but couldn't get rid of it completely. It sort of morphed into instant trusting, something which his mentors were worried, and told him that as endearing as this trait was, it wasn't safe for such a young boy. Walking on, nightingales tittered to and fro, paying no heed to him. He reached a large clearing, "The Dux Solium" Leucosia had told him. The ground underfoot was soft -- cushioned with lichen, moss, and grasses. A massive tower spirals out from the middle of the Dux Solium. Bronze, engraved with ancient runes.
Surprisingly, the runes were yet to be translated. Or so he knew, from his teachers. In truth, only thirteen women stayed at this place. Each named, after the mythical Sirens and Muses. This tower and all around were hidden, especially for the purpose that no one would ever know. Much like the other Orders of magic, it too had its own type of magic.
The massive tower, appropriately called "Fides Solarius", was built during the rule of Alysaundre Demière. It had consisted of seven different levels, including the ballroom and the library. On the top floor, beneath the dome, are the baths and the observatory.
Shaking his head from his thoughts, he kept on walking. He had learned much from the 13, the best training any student mage like himself could learn. Learning from a young age, he could practice and harness his abilities, and soon, he'd be able to be just like them, and maybe surpass them. His only goal was to be just like them, just as powerful, just as courageous, just as.. Everything. To him, they were perfect, never mind the fact they were like his parents or sisters, or basically family, but then again, these were only the thoughts of a child who adored them to no end.
He wanted to reach the library first, always going early. He had a terrible fetish for reading books. It was a good thing, but the 13 had told him to not always rely on books and information, especially when you needed to learn practical sense. Turning around a corner, he found himself in the library.
The library. An exquisite circular chamber -- The walls and floor made out of peppered marble. An onion-shaped chandelier hangs from the ceiling, two hundred lights illuminating the room. Curving around the walls are trellises created from the bronze piping, adorned with grapevines. Yes, the grapes of wrath are plump and ripe for the picking. He especially loved staying at the library, curling up in a chair, eating juicy grapes while deeply engrossed in the books.
He had found an entire shelf of books that used to belong to the other Orders. He found an interest a particular book that told of terrible stories dealing with the non-magic users. He was currently caught up in the short descriptions of lycanthropes and vampires killing their victims. The words were very detailed, and soon he lost herself in the pages. He unconsciously scooted near a chair, obstructed by a large bookcase. He sat in, and read.
Elizabeth Bathory aka The Blood Countess
Believing blood had rejuvenating properties, Slovakien countess Elizabeth Bathory brutally slaughtered women from her principality and bathed in the blood of her victims. By the time she was brought to trial, it was estimated that the "Blood Countess" had killed more than 600 young women to retain her youthful appearance. She was found guilt and imprisoned in a room in her estate, where she died years later.
Harry turned the page, only glancing at the cold portrait of Elizabeth Bathory, who looked as pale as death, and very young. Shuddering a bit, he let his eyes wander to the next page.
Jean Grenier aka The Boy Lycanthrope
Jean Grenier of Aquitaire was barely a child when he was accused of being a werewolf. Abused by his father, he ran away from home and wandered around the countryside. One evening another boy, Pierre La Tihaire, took him into the woods, where they met a man known as the Lord of the Forest a tall horseman dressed in black. The man dismounted and kissed Grenier with icy lips. Upon their second meeting, the boys allowed their master to scratch brands into their thighs. He gave them wine to drink and presented them with wolf skins and an ointment. The Lord taught them how to rub their bodies with the ointment before putting on the fur.
During their reign of terror, fifteen children including one from Grenier's cradle disappeared. When Grenier was finally caught in 1603, he confessed of eating them all. At that time he was fourteen, physically and mentally retarded. Taking into account his age and limited mental capacity, the Judge ordered Grenier to be confined in a cloister for life. There, he refused to eat any regular food and devoured offal instead.
Seven years later he was visited by a man named Pierre de Lancre, who reported that Grenier had grown gaunt and lean. His deep-set black eyes burned incessantly. His hands were like claws with bent nails and his teeth were like canines.
Apparently, he enjoyed hearing about wolves and readily imitated them. After one more year he died, to be remembered forever in the history of werewolves as the "boy lycanthrope."
Harry shuddered involuntarily. Those poor people, he thought, if only the Order of 13 knew about this. We could have done something. Or at least the other Orders. But I guess we never consorted with non-magic users at that time. This time, Harry took a good look at the portrait of Jean Grenier, wondering why he did what he did. The Orders knew and classified the creatures, but they never kept them locked up or anything. They were only classified so the student mages knew what they were up against and knew how to defend. It only mattered about the Order and their students, nothing else.
The beasts were free to kill amongst people, and to be killed by the people, while the Orders stayed back. Harry clenched his fists at the thought. Nothing could change what happened, and no one really could do anything because it could risk being discovered. After the Orders lost contact with each other, they all developed wards that kept them away from any contact. It was as if they were on different planes instead of the material one, but that was just a theory Harry had been toying around with for fun.
Shaking his head at his quick thoughts, he turned back to his book, turning the page once more.
The Captain's Vampire
The voyage of the British merchant ship Cormorant from Portsmouth, England, to the Caribbean island of Nevis had special meaning for Andrew Oglethorpe. After ten years as a sailor, Oglethorpe had decided to call it quits and live out his days as a fisherman in the British West Indies. And so, on June 15, 1607, the night before his last voyage, Oglethorpe set up shop in a Portsmouth pub and drank to his good fortune. It wasn't to last.
As Oglethorpe staggered toward the docks an hour or so before dawn, a prostitute called to him from the shadows. Inebriated, and facing three months at sea with no female companionship, Oglethorpe eagerly followed her into a dark alley, ignoring the old seafarer's maxim: harlot for hire, might be vampire. No sooner had they found a private spot than the prostitute sunk her fangs into him, and Andrew Oglethorpe's dream of a life of tropical ease was over before it started.
Like many victims of vampirism, Oglethorpe chose to deny what had happened. He boarded the Cormorant and assumed his duties as the ship left port under the direction of Captain Horatio Wheeler. By nightfall, Oglethorpe was in sick bay with a fever and chills. As Oglethorpe's wounds were not easily visible, the ship surgeon probably confused his symptoms with one of the more common ailments of the day. Eventually, Oglethorpe slipped into a vampiric coma; he was being prepared for burial at sea when he came back to life--
He was abruptly cut from his reading, when the library doors had opened, well-- more like slammed open.
Shutting the book quickly, he slid from the chair, and crouched on the floor. Three of the 13, Thelxiope, Ligeia, and Himerope, were both anxiously talking. Curious, he crept closer.
"The darkness from the tree is manifesting. We have been idle in our guarding, and we have no way of preventing her from escaping her imprisonment."
"How? Why? Can't we--"
"No. We've been avoiding our duties to guard; we've done nothing to help. As the strongest Order, we have failed immeasurably. It took all the Orders to imprison her, and we have lost contact with all of them, as they had done to each other. We can do nothing but worry about our safety from this."
"It is a selfish thing to do, but you are right. Eáránë will most likely use our place and magic to help her."
"What can we do?"
"We must put more protection."
"She can easily penetrate."
"Then we must ask our eldest sister."
"Aglaophonos had already come up with a decision."
"You know her, her divinator skills are impeccable."
"I see, then what course of action will we take?"
"She says.. We must stay here and protect, but.."
"It's the only thing we can do; we can't very well protect it from just anywhere. Going into this stasis, will suspend this place, our home, into ice. We will be included of course; Aglaophonos has altered it so we can easily go about, but only from our restricted territory. That isn't so bad, our place stretches quite far, and we can go about here and there. Nothing will be different.."
"How long will we be confined to where we stay?"
"As long as the darkness lives. If she gains this fortress and us.. Her success would have already been written."
"But, surely we can't leave Harry.."
"He is young.. He will be very restless in the stasis. We have taught him well, teaching all of what we know. He can take care of himself. The only problem is telling him."
At this point, he stood up. Their surprised eyes turned to him. Harry felt his eyes prickling with tears, but he did nothing to stop the onset of tears. The three women looked terribly uncomfortable with Harry finding out like this. Harry smiled tearfully, and cleared his throat. "I know you have my.. Best interests in mind and I understand. I'll--I'll go pack now." The three women both looked on sadly, but accompanied him to his room. They left him there to pack, telling him to meet them in the Meeting Hall.
He stepped into his room, and immediately conjured the customary mage trunk, that was mandatory for every mage to own. It had seven keyholes, and each keyhole opened to a compartment. The seventh opened to a room that led to other rooms. Mages could fashion their room to mirror a real place, and Harry always mirrored it to be the inside of the Fides Solarius. He put everything he could think of that he needed from his room and put them into each compartment and closed it.
He would miss his home. His only home would be in a stasis, and he was left out on his own for awhile. He would have to meet an Order, and stay with them. Unless he was to be out on his own, but Harry seriously doubted that. The Order of 13 would not like that at all. When he was done packing everything from his room, shrunk it and put it into the pocket of his robes. It would be held in his mind until called upon on. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the Meeting Hall.
When he got there, all of the 13 were there. They smiled at him kindly, while Harry took a seat at the table. What passed there was over all too quickly. Each of the 13 gave their blessings to him, telling him that he should inform the Orders of what has happened, and assist in stopping her. They informed him that he would be staying with the Order of the Phoenix. Second only to the 13. Harry read about that Order and said he looked forward to meeting them. He confessed, reluctantly, that he feared he would not be immediately liked and not make friends at all. The sisters immediately assured him otherwise, saying if people were to meet him, they would have no choice but to befriend him. Harry laughed at the jest, his heart lightening.
The sky was darkening now, and Harry hugged them all one last time before setting off. He had to hurry quickly off the path that leads directly to his home, because the sisters would immediately put everything in stasis. Getting into a fair distance, Harry watched as everything he called his home was covered by ice. The ice spread quite far, and Harry truly wondered how large the land each Order owned. Sighing, Harry closed his eyes in concentration, and with the sound of displaced wind, apparated from sight.
His feet met with the ground abruptly, and Harry had to pause to get rid of the dizziness that had suddenly overtaken him. He looked around, and found himself inside a dark forest. Where am I? Harry thought to himself, frantically. He hadn't practiced doing this much, and hoped he hadn't miscalculated the distance.
Taking more caution once he realized his predicament, he walked carefully through the impending forest. Hearing the sound of water, he ducked from behind and tree and looked on. He saw a small stream, where a boy stood, holding out his arm to his side. In a flash, a rapier appeared in in his hand, and Harry watched in astonishment as the boy cut through the air effortlessly. His form is perfect, nothing like mine, but then again, my forte has always been with magic. Harry thought wryly. I just hope he doesn't take that to me.
He approached, softly treading around. He didn't want to chance himself around the dark trees. Walking around the stream seemed like the best thing to Harry, as it was under the now set moon. He tiptoed from behind, mindful of the still slashing sound of the rapier. He had just reached the other side, when he heard a whistling sound and instinctively ducked. It was a good thing Harry did that, or the rapier would have surely cut off his head.
Gasping in shock, Harry thanked the stars, and quickly crawled to the side and stood up. The boy was staring at him coldly. His blonde, almost silver hair glinting in the moonlight; his robes were dark green, as opposed to Harry's white robes, that shined a peculiar green in the moonlight. "Who are you?" the boy called roughly.
The only thing Harry did was step back. He had assumed he apparated at least, near the Order of the Phoenix, but surely, they would not have such students as these? Did the darkness force the Orders themselves to become colder? What has changed? Harry thought wonderingly. He was cut from his thoughts, when the boy spoke harshly again. "Who are you I say! Speak!"
Harry bristled at the tone. He wasn't going to be treated in such a way. Harry remained silent, and quickly thrust his palm out. There was a flash of light, causing the boy to shield his eyes. Harry turned, and took off. He heard a curse far off, and was startled to hear the sound of someone tearing through the trees. He's running after me?! He thought. Harry ran harder, not used to this type of thing. Desperate, he held both hands in front of him, curling them as if he was carrying a ball. "Lacarem inflamare.." he whispered, and stared unblinkingly at the sudden fire in his hands. He didn't want to hurt the forest, but this fire would only encircle the boy chasing him. Harry stopped in his running and threw it.
The ball of fire would immediately surround the boy, wherever he was. Harry held back a yell, when the ball of fire erupted and formed a large ring of fire around him. "What's going on?" Harry spoke aloud.
"You tell me."
Harry whipped around, to find the same boy behind him. Harry backed up a few, staring at him. "How did.. How did you--?"
The boy smirked, tossing his head. "Get behind you so quickly? Well, if you tell me how you did this," he indicated the fire, "I'll tell you how I did it. I mean, everyone who learns at the Orders knows magic, but it's only the Professor Mages that can do magic of this caliber. Then again, what are you?" The boy paused, "Now, unless you don't want to stay here all day, I think it would benefit us both if you put out this fire."
He took a threatening a step forward, but Harry pushed him back roughly. The fire blinked out, as if turned off by a switch, leaving on a lingering smoke. Harry turned, but was brought down to the ground, when a hand grabbed his foot. He let out a cry, but quickly stood up, jumping back as a rapier nearly cut him. Harry lifted his hand and conjured a rapier to, hoping against hope that he could throw him off.
"Before we engage in this duel," He looked back at him mockingly, "My name is Draco Malfoy." He bowed deeply. "I must know the name of my opponent. Surely you will grant that?"
Harry narrowed his eyes, "Harry Potter." he bit out. He took his stance, praying that he wasn't too rusty in fencing. They saluted with their rapiers. Then the boy said "Have at you!" and to anyone watching, the two transformed into deadly enemies. Their blades clashed and parted and met again with such rapidity that to anyone's untrained eye couldn't follow. Even with Harry's ignorance of fencing, he could see that Draco was holding back, giving him to ward and counter. Is he mocking me? Harry thought angrily, losing concentration momentarily.
This was all Draco needed, and effortlessly caught Harry's sideways blow on the guard of his rapier, flung his arm outward, and delivered a quick but light stocatta to Harry's unguarded chest. "Touch." he said.
Harry threw his rapier aside, where it promptly vanished. The sudden movement startled Draco, but he was still on his guard. "You're not getting away that easily!" he threw out his arm, sending a wave of magic that Harry couldn't recognize, after him. It clamped around his middle, throwing him forcibly into the Draco's chest. Draco spun him around to face him.
"Now, you're going to have to answer my questions or," he grinned wickedly, "I'll be forced to take certain measures. Are you willing to cooperate?"
Harry spit in his face.
Wincing, he quickly wiped off the spit, and then wiping his hand on his robe. "That wasn't very nice you know." Harry opened his mouth to retort but it shut when he lost consciousness.
Draco felt Harry become limp, and grinned triumphantly. "I love that technique." he crooned.