Despite the ever-present turbulence surrounding Sirius Black's brazen
incursion into Hogwarts, the professors were determined to maintain as
much outward normalcy as possible. Classes carried on with only minor
accommodations for increased security protocols.
Which was why, on a blustery Friday morning in early December, Hades
found himself trudging across the frost-rimed grounds toward the edge
of the Forbidden Forest. Icy mud squelched beneath his dragonhide boots
as Draco fell into step beside him, platinum hair whipping in the
biting wind.
"This had better be brief," his friend groused, hunching deeper into his
emerald and silver scarf. "The half-breed surely can't have planned
anything too strenuous in this miserable slog."
Hades arched an eyebrow at the unexpected vitriol but remained silent.
He knew how deeply Draco's Pureblood elitism ran, and the prospect of
enduring lessons from the inexplicably hirsute Rubeus Hagrid did little
to mask his disdain. Still, unease gnawed at Hades' gut the closer they
trekked toward the looming tree line.
Ever since Sirius Black's infiltration of Hogwarts, the young Slytherin
had been plagued by disjointed nightmares and fleeting visions bleeding
over from his waking consciousness at random intervals. Fractured images
of emerald flames, silhouetted duels, and glyphs scorched into his
psyche like thermal branding...
The closer they drew to the Forbidden Forest's primordial depths, the
clearer and more intense the phantasms seemed to become. Just then, a
sharp whistle rents the icy air as a massive shape soared overhead,
blotting out the grayish clouds with leathery wings wider than a barn's
roof.
Several Gryffindor girls shrieked in terror as the hippogriff banked in
a tight spiral, its razor-edged talons glinting like obsidian scythes.
Draco stiffened beside Hades, his pale eyes tracking the predator's
descent toward the ground where Hagrid waited, a bemused grin
spreading across his ruddy features.
"We'll be workin' wit' th' hippogriffs today!" The half-giant's booming
voice echoed even through the whipping winds. "Now, who can tell me a
bit about these magnificent beasties?"
A Ravenclaw student's hand shot skyward instantly, practically trembling
with scholastic intensity. "Hippogriffs are a magical cross between
giant eagles and horses, synonymous in many ancient cultures with
harbingers of fate! Their hunting peregrinations span the remote
northern wilds and -"
"Tha's enough, tha's enough," Hagrid halted her know-it-all torrent
with a dismissive wave. He turned to the hesitant cluster of third-years arrayed in a loose semicircle around him.
YOU ARE READING
The Fall of Dumbledore: The White King
FanfictionThe Boy Who Lived is a well-known tale. Because that's what it is, a tale. The boy who lived never actually survived Voldemort. He never existed in the first place. The boy known as 'Harry James Potter' is actually 'Hades Evan Snape.' A product of h...
