Harry Potter and the Twelve Tailsmen

[Houndoom_Lover]

Well, fellow readers...This is where the plot line from Dark Hands Washed picks up, so I hope you all enjoy this one if you enjoyed my last one. *sighs*

Contains stuff from the last Harry Potter book, and as always, you can find most of my stories on fanfic'

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"Sometimes he (Death) gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking...”

The preface

You know who?

Tom Marvolo Riddle, name he was given at birth, became one of the world’s darkest wizards known to man kind. From a humble start in an orphanage, this heir of Slytherin excelled at everything he attempted to do. After graduating from Hogwarts, he became Voldemort; otherwise know as He-who-must-not-be-named, You-know-who, and the Dark Lord, respectively. It is known, now, that he traveled far and wide looking for ways to make himself stronger than any man alive. And though he succeeded, he did so in the most terrible ways. It is believed he studied under a another dark wizard, whose whereabouts, or even if he is still alive, is unknown.

As Voldemort, he had followers, known as Death Eaters (see chapter ten, under Followers of the Dark Arts). He and his followers, during his first rule, took control of the wizarding world with fear. The Dark Lord was vanquished for the first time by Harry Potter, when a killing curse backfired. Voldemort would again rise, thirteen years later. His rule, this time, was short, but caused the death of many brave witches and wizard (See casualties of wars). Again, Harry Potter defeated him, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

- Excerpt from the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. (1999 ed.)

Good and evil both exist in our world, like Gods and Devils. But throughout history, there have been many evil Gods, so why can there not be good Devils? Therefore; good and evil must slide together somewhere, to create this murky darkness we call death.

Many people fear death. It’s just as simple as that. No one, or very few, can look dead in the eye, and say, “I am ready.”

I do not fear death; rather, I fear the eternal silence, the nothing that some say come with death. And if you look at it in the right light, then yes, it is a kind of death fear, but now, turn off the lights.

Are you scared?

But yet, you aren’t dead. That is my fear, the silence...the black abyss that waits.

-A journal entry

The girl that wrote that was currently sitting in the corner of a bathroom, surrounded by shards of mirror. She was crying, her arms around her knees. She would sob there for many hours, before asked to come out by a tall, suave, businessman.

These tears, these were real. The only real tears she had ever cried were for herself; this shallow and hideous creature that sat on the bathroom floor that was carpeted by a neon pink rug. The rug that clashed with the blood on her hands, but if you ask me, I find red goes charmingly with pink.

Someone knocked on the door, breaking Emma’s solitude. She stopped crying, waiting in anticipation for the knocker to speak, wanting to spill her spleen on the first person she came into contact with.

Yet, no one ordered for her to come out of the bathroom this time, which rather irked Emma, who could feel the knocker’s presence like an itchy pair of woolen socks.

“Yes?” Emma said, no longer able to take the lingering feeling that generated from the door. It made her tense up, like she was waiting for an attack. When no one replied, she stood up, brushing the glassy debris off her ripped, stained, and more then a day old clothes as she moved to the door.

Opening it, she stuck her head out, looking around. No one was there, but someone was, that she was sure of it. Emma sighed harshly; this room was too small to conceal anyone, so they must have walked off. She found her feet moving reluctantly into the living room.

“…You will take your group and,” Valmont commanded, noticing Emma out of the corner of his eyes. He was a tall man, with hair in a ponytail that was so blond it looked white. Dressed in a fine green suit, Valmont was the quiescence of a businessman.

“About time,” He said softly, as the girl hesitantly walked out into the opening. There were many gathered there, some she knew, and some she didn’t. She lowered her shoulders, and head in humility, her eyes probed the group; greedily.

There stood the Enforcers, and Emma’s eyes narrowed with hate when she saw them. From to right to left: Finn was the leader (or how she put it in her mind) of the Enforcers. Their leader was a tall man, with red hair and an obsession of the disco era that was visualized in his wardrobe.

Then was Chow, who was the shortest adult in the group. This Asian man wore a tough guy leather jacket and pants, with tacky orange sunglasses.

And finally, there was Ratso, who, in Emma’s mind, looked much like a monkey in a suit with a Band-Aid on its nose.

The others, all men, and in scores of ten, were listening to Valmont give his orders. With Shendu gone, he was now free to take control of his life. To do what see saw fit, and what he saw fit currently, was to cause Emma some childhood trauma.

Emma lifted her head up, looking directly into Valmont’s eyes. She now knew how she looked, and she blamed him. There were taunts, jeering taunts, she heard, rattling in her mind. But for all purposes, there were just two; Emma and Valmont.

Valmont smirked, “I have a very special assignment for you, Emma.”

Around China Town, CA

Emma popped her gum loudly, leaning against the tall lamp post that flickered weakly down on her new block. She’d be close to school, and Jade. How clever, she admitted to herself, that Valmont would move this close it him. His enemies would never look here…though, she could see why.

The new Headquarters was a dump. It was a large brick building, but not the pretty red-ish kind of brick; it was the nasty gray kind, with broken windows and mossy mold growing on the side. But, at least it was big, a good three floors.

One of the moving boys dropped a box, making a sound that possible was a very broken lamp.

Emma tore her eyes from the pale blue sky, “Careful with that,” She sneered, “You’re not being paid to be oafs.”

The moving boy she addressed had an acne problem. Emma was thinking how pitiful and disgusting he was, licking her drying teeth. His short blond hair was slicked in awkward direction, by use of hair gel, and his sideburns of doom were laughable.

This pimply fool, with his pieced ears, kicked the box to the front door. They were almost done, and his fellow movers, two other adolescent boys, came down the stairs, each holding an expensive looking electronic.

“Yo!” The blond one snapped, “We’s done wit’ dis!” His voice went down octaves as he talked. The others joined him, shoving stuff the stolen goods into a thick black bag.

The blond one was the shortest, the tallest being a heavy set with muscles and a thuggish haircut, and the in-between height belonged to the teen with a nose ring, and several other pricings and a fly-straight hairdo that covered some of his face.

“Excuse me?” Emma inquired, her distorted face somewhere between fear and insult. She took a step back, “Those don’t belong to you.”

“Oh?” The blond asked, mockingly, and then turned to the tall thin teen, “MC Cobra, empty dat bag out.”

Emma did smirk at this, but it quickly slipped off her face when they’re conversation continued.

“Why’s dat, Ice?” MC Cobra replied, dumping the bag out carelessly, throwing the black bag to the boy called Ice.

“I’ve found a better use for it,” They all seemed to get where he was going with this. The largest of the three cracked his fists.

“What’s that?” Emma said in a snide voice, sounding braver than she really was, “A bag for you face?”

“Nah, be-otch, it’s for yours!” Ice retorted, turning to look at the largest one in his group, “DJ Fist, wasn’t there a dumpster out back.”

His thuggish friend nodded, and they advanced. Emma’s back hit a pole as she backed away from them, her expression much like that of a frightened cat.

“When Valmont hears about this-“She snarled deadly quietly, but it just made them chuckle. There was a retracting feeling in her chest, and her eyes blurred. Emma groaned inwardly, as the bag was closing in on her head.

Thud

Emma opened her eyes, feeling pleasantly warm. Odd, she wasn’t usually pleasantly warm. One eye reveled complete blackness, her new bad eyes, while the other one showed her a view of a small room, with white washed walls, and a yellow wooden floor. There were many crates and other such this thrown here and there, and she gathered she was sitting on a large plush sofa, with a blue blanket wrapped around her.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Tohru, a large Japanese man, with a black and white arrangement of clothes, walked up the stairs, holding a tray full of food.

Emma gave him a weary look, sitting up as best she could. She watched him place the tray on her lap.

“Thank you,” She said simply, holding the tray with one hand and touching her bad side of the face with the other. It was bandaged, Emma opened her mouth, but Tohru smiled, and answered with out being asked.

“You are very lucky that Uncle was just coming back from the store,” He gave her head a light pat, and her hair ruffle, “Now eat up, you’ll feel better!” The large man lumbered away.

Emma sighed, looking at the bowl of steaming hot brown soup, and crust-less white bread sandwich. She was hungry. Taking a bite, Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t as god-awful as she expected. In fact, it was delicious.

She soundly devoured the sandwich, and very garlicky soup, and pondered if she should get up and look around, but she just couldn’t keep her eyes open.

This short slumber was cut…short, when Emma jerked awake, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. That old Uncle Chan was hovering over her, eyeing her like she was some strange creature, or a bomb.

“Can I help you?” She asked snidely, nearly forgetting she was in his house thing, she quickly added, “I suppose I should thank you for saving me…I think.”

Uncle raised an eyebrow, “What where you doing there, all by yourself?”

“Minding my own business,” Was her snooty reply, a reply that earned her a two finger flick on the forhead.

“Ow!” Emma rubbed her forehead grumbling. Well, if he wanted to know something, than she’d just make it up, “I wished to make a house call on Jade, because I was lonely.”

Old Mr. Chan gave her a look that clearly told her he didn’t believe her at all, but he said, “Jade went with her uncle, she will be back soon.”

The snooty British girl jumped up, throwing the blanket down on the sofa.

“Well, I’d best be on my way, then!” She announced pompously, but Uncle grabbed the back of her filthy clothes.

“You can go bathe,” Uncle said, with a knowing tone, “shower is down the hall.”

The look of surprise claimed the half of her face that was visible, “Why are you doing this?”

“Ancient Chinese Proverb,” He let go of her, holding a finger up. Emma already began to move out of the room, causing Uncle to screech, “One more thing!”

She stopped, giving him an extra pouty look, “Yes, sir?”

“When one saves another,” Uncle started, once he was sure he got her attention. His voice was careful, every word weighted, “they are responsible for them.”

Emma’s voice gave a twitch, much like a smile. Her teal eyes darted to and fro, they glanced to the floor, and then existed the room.

An hour an hour later

“Oooo, you were so cool!” Jade Chan was hanging from a tired Jackie Chan’s arm, as she chattered like a happy monkey all the way home.

An exhausted Jackie opened the door to Uncle’s Rare Finds, Jade swinging off his arm with a thud on the floor.

“Those robbers didn’t know which way you were throwing punches!” The little Chan mimicked what she had saw, throwing fake punches in the air.

“Oh Jade,” Jackie chided wearily, walking mindlessly into the storage room, and flopping on the nearest couch.

“Aaiya, get your grubby fingers off Uncle’s Ming Dynasty calendar!” Uncle’s voice rang throughout the shop, cause Jackie to sit up and Jade to look excited. She raced to the other room.

“How can I dust, sir, if I can-not-touch your, “Emma and Uncle were in a tug of war, each grabbing ends of the calendar, “antiquities?”

“Ooooh, Emma can dust,” Uncle retorted, “but Uncle is sure she was stealing!”

“What are you doing here?” Jade had been watching this, her eyebrows raised, and her arms crossed. The two looked at her. Emma quickly let the priceless old thing, turning her back on Uncle.

She was wearing a pair of Jackie’s pants, and one of his blue sweaters, both rolled up several times.

Uncle replaced the Ming calendar, looking hassled, “Humph, she wanted to visit you. Though Uncle doubts-“

“Ahhh, Jade, a pleasure to see you once more!” Her drawling voice was particularly pompous; she grabbed Jade by the shoulders and led her into the kitchen.

The kitchen was small, and cramped, especially because Tohru was in it, baking cookies of the chocolate chip verity. There was a tiny wooden table, clean, with four chairs, two pulled open, welcoming their butts.

Emma sat down as though she owned the place, and indicated that Jade should do the same.

“So…” The blond started, looked at Jade with an inquisitive eye, “How has your summer been?”

“Um…” Jade narrowed her eyes, confusedly, “O…kay? What happen to your face-?”

“Grand, grand!” Emma waved her hand, looking away, “I have just three words for you.”

“What are they?” Tohru placed the plate of cookies, straight from the oven, between them. Emma leaned forward, wiggling her finger to indicate that Jade should too.

“Girl-Scout-Cookies.” Emma whispered, picking up a cookie with her nail as to not burn herself, “You can make a dozen of them for 2.50, right?” She didn’t wait for Jade to answer, “But if we charge seven dollars for a box, which contains a dozen. Therefore, we make four dollars and fifty cent profit!”

Jade ignored this, and ate a cookie. She fanned her tongue, as Emma waited for a reply.

“Careful,” Tohru said kindly, “They’re hot.”

“You use to work for Valmont, did you not, Mr. Tohru?” Emma grabbed a few cookies, a few being four, and stood up.

Tohru nooded, taking off his oven mitts to clean up.

“You should have stayed,” Emma continued, “I would have enjoyed…your company.” Jade jumped off her chair, grabbing the plate with an ow; she followed Emma in to other room.

“You know,” Jade began, her voice as sly as Emma’s had been, “my birthday to tomorrow.”

“I didn’t know that,” Emma said, fringing curiosity, “You’ve blessed me new information.”

When she saw her disappointed face, Emma added hastily, “I would like to ponder that someone should be treated to ice cream, and shall!”

“Well, I hate to tell you that your pondering is wrong,” Jade grinned, stuffing a cookie in her face, swallowing, she added, “I know this perfect place-“

“Alright you two,” Jackie Chan said, fatherly as he walked into the room, “time for- are those my clothes?”

“Yes, you should really invest in pure cotton, Mr.Chan,” Emma pulled on the collar of his rather itchy blue shirt.

Jackie rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips, “Well, it’s time for little Miss. Shoplift to go home.”

“Little Miss Shoplift? Mr. Chan, I find that comment a tad perpostous!” Emma poked her nose to the air, “Good day to you, sir!” She stomped out of the shop, the little bell dinging.

Jade sighed, looking up at Jackie. When Jackie looked down and asked, “What?” Jade just sighed, and ate another cookie.

Ah! Sweet freedom, but you know, there accusations weren’t too terribly off. She took a long narrow package out of Jackie’s massive sweater. Emma rubbed the address; it wasn’t address to this pawn shop, but another one. So, Uncle had stolen it first, therefore, it really wasn’t stealing, wasn’t.

Emma started down the darkening street. A nice fog was picked up, blocking the lights from the lap-posts that towered ahead. This fog didn’t bother Emma at all, she felt at top of the world, now that her belly was full, and she was clean. Yes, the world was perfect.

No demons, no devils, no magic. Just sweet summer business- The same thoughts Valmont was having right then. Oh, what fools they were…

Some dark and spooky place

A commanding voice broke the silent of the room; “Gan-Ren-Chui.”

There was a loud poof, and a purple-ish blue smoke filled the dark room. An evil laughter filled the room, so loud, the wooshing noise the came behind the man that was laughing was bearly audiable. The man opened his eyes, his right eye was grey, and the other was green.