Once and Future King
By Kristoffer Martin
Once, long ago, dragons ruled the skies and men of magic fought alongside the bravest warriors to defeat them. These great beasts were unlike the dragons of today, they were intelligent, long lived, and masterful in the use of magic. Perhaps the greatest wizard to ever live, Merlin, alongside the fabled King Arthur, became allies with such a dragon, the last dragon to speak in his ancient tongue. At a time of great upheaval and treachery, the three forged a pact with another from beyond the stars to defeat one only known as the Trickster. Little did Merlin know what awaited him after the battle in a place between future and past. Long has he lived and walked the Earth, waiting for the day the Once and Future King would arise and sit upon the throne of Albion once more. This is his story.
Awakening
"Albus Severus Potter, get down from there this moment," screeched Professor Mcgonagall, "you too, Scorpius!" The ever stern faced Professor leveled her wand at the two young wizards who, upon her arrival in the classroom, were amidst the process of walking up the wall after placing a new product from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes on their shoes. Albus smirked slightly as he slunk back towards the floor while Scorpius giggled a bit too much. In his second breath his shoes came undone, loose as they were, and he fell. "For goodness...Wingardium Leviosa," Mcgonagall said, her wand flicking in the air. For a brief moment Scorpius was like a dancing balloon, bobbing in mid air inches from the ground. The class erupted from their silent gaze to ruckus laughter and applause before Mcgonagall released the spell dropping Scorpius to the floor.
"Nice catch Professor," said Albus.
"We've gone over this before, I don't care if your uncle is Ronald Weasley. Weasley Wizarding Wheezes are well and warrantedly worn out. Ten points from Slytherin. Now take your seats please." Mcgonagall gave them a stern look over her glasses. The class quieted and both Albus and Scorpius took their seats near the back of the room. Scorpius wriggled his bare feet under his desk, the cold stone sending shivers up his legs.
Mcgonagall came to the pedestal at the front of the room and tapped her wand, "Professor Binns, I'm afraid, is no longer with us."
"What do you mean no longer with us, isn't he already dead?" said a red headed girl near the front of the class. Her curly hair bobbed a moment as she spoke.
"I mean, Ms. Oberlin, that his ghost has finally faded into the veil. So, until I can procure a new History of Magic teacher I will be covering the course." Mcgonagall turned towards a blackboard and waved her wand. The chalk flew up and began to scrawl out dates.
"Professor," said Albus, his hand raised firmly.
"Yes, Potter."
"I was wondering, what is the veil, exactly?"
Mcgonagall stood there perplexed for a moment, she puzzled over Albus sure he'd been taught about it by his father or mother at some point. "Surely your father told you about it? His very own god father, Sirius Black, was taken by it."
Albus shook his head, it'd been hard after the incident with the time-turners the year prior to speak to his father. They had tried, of course, right after it seemed any topic was open for discussion. Yet, as time progressed the very wedge that drove them apart before, returned and they fell into old habits.
"I see," said Mcgonagall as she briefly glanced at the blackboard, "since you asked we might as well cover the matter today. Quills out please and open your books to chapter six."
A flutter of pages echoed in a whisper across the room and both Albus and Scorpius looked down at their books. The heavy volume glistened with gold and across the page was scrawled in disconnected letters Chapter Six: The Night Veil.
"The Night Veil?" said Scorpius unintentionally aloud.
"Correct," said Mcgonagall, "the Night Veil, often simply called the Veil, is a magical barrier between the plane of the living and the plane of the dead. Discovered long ago, it was believed at one time the veil did not exist at all, but in a few places." With a flick of her wand a projector sprung from the floor, a bright light whisped into life, and a projector screen unfurled from the ceiling. "The barrier was created by the first magic folk to keep at bay the dead long past, and ghosts are made of a piece of the veil, an imprint of one who has died but was not yet ready to pass on," the slider clicked and a group of what looked like a cross between a Grindilow and Cornish Pixie danced in a circle around a young girl. "...and it was used, by some less savory folk, to trap the souls of men, women, and children."
"So dark magic existed even back then?" said another student, a boy named Bill Deedly.
"Indeed. The nefarious acts by magic folk, at this time, lead to the greatest genocides of magic users in our history. The uprising of the Christian faith sought to root out all magic users, and one King, Uther Pendragon, was nearly successful in wiping out magic folk. The great Dragons of Albion waged a war against Uther and his compatriots, not the likes of which have been seen in over a thousand years. Alas all but two fell." The slide clicked and a new image appeared. A great golden dragon laid chained in a cavern. One large eye gazed out at them with a light like a burning torch.
"With the downfall of the dragons and a ban on magic use, the veil grew out of check. From it, it is said, that the greatest wizard ever to live was born."
Albus and Scorpius stared at the slide and proclaimed at the same time, "Merlin's beard."
"Quite on the nose, maybe you two will pass this course yet," said Mcgonagall. "It is believed that Merlin...or more properly Meridin, was born of a virgin mother and the will of the veil. As many of you must know the legend of Merlin we'll skip past..."
"Wait, Professor," said Bill. He'd now stood from his chair and was pointing at the slide. A triskelion shown brightly against the back drop of a tall mound surrounded by a lake. "I know that place."
Mcgonagall stared down at him for a moment which prompted him to return to his seat. "How, exactly do you know this place, Mr. Deedly?" Her usual frown crossed her face as she focused on the blond haired boy.
"I-I...saw it..." he fidgeted a moment more under her glare, "I saw it, from the Hogwarts Express..."
Mcgonagall blinked her eyes, her eyebrows lifted, and a sly creased smirk crossed her lips. "I think, Mr. Deedly, you should not be so hasty to eat the sweets from the trolly lady. I'm afraid it is impossible for you to have seen this place. What we know of it, the place where Arthur is buried, can only be reached by traversing the veil. It is on the island of Avalon in the middle of a lake long since disappeared."
"But...but..." Deedly looked to the slide and back to Mcgonagall before he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
"Can anyone tell me what happened to Merlin?" asked Mcgonagall. Her gaze travelled across the room, not a single hand was raised. As if to save them from another staring match the bell signaling the end of the period reverberated through the halls. "No matter how many times I hear that blasted ringing, I shall not get used to it…." Mcgonagall paused to wait for the bell to stop. The class was already packing their things. "For next week I expect four feet on the Veil and if anyone can tell me what happened to Merlin they'll get twenty-five points for their house."
Albus and Scorpius stayed behind as the class filed out of the room. Scorpius' shoes were still stuck to the wall nearly twenty feet up. "How're you going to get them down?" said Matilda as she came up behind them. Her bouncy curly black hair covered her forehead. Her robes were the same dark emerald green as Albus and Scorpius, which clashed with the bright orange scarf she wore around her neck.
"I'll just have to walk up there, won't I?" said Albus. "You better not," said Scorpius, "she's still in the room."
"What are you waiting for, Potter?" said Mcgonagall, her back turned to them as she erased the blackboard. "Get Malfoy's shoes off the wall."
"Uh...right, yes Professor." Albus once again sprayed the contents from an odd bottle to the soles of his shoes and gingerly stepped onto the wall. In no time he'd climbed to Malfoy's shoes picked them up and dropped them to his friend. A few quick strides and he was on solid ground once more.
"Don't let me catch you using that...that...what is it called again?" Mcgonagall strode to them and held her hand out for the bottle.
"It's uncle's new invention...though I think Hermoine had a hand in it. They call it Grav-Your-ty..." said Albus.
Mcgonagall smiled broadly, "This would have been quite handy in avoiding that pink-toad a few years back." Her old eyes wandered from the bottle to Albus and Scorpius before she held up the bottle for them to take it.
"I'm keeping an eye on you Potter..." she said glancing over the top of her glasses. Both Albus and Scorpius hurried to the main hall followed by Matilda. Lunch was in full swing and Matilda Oberlin found herself a seat with the Gryffindors and her brother Ned. Bill Deedly, who was seated with his house, the Hufflepuffs, slowly grazed on a salad which, for some reason, kept trying to escape the prongs of his fork.
Carefully, Albus and Scorpius sneaked past the professor's table guarded by a drowsy Flitwick and made their way to the kitchens. Barnabus, a young house elf, and the first born free elf in centuries, toiled at magicking up a rather large bunt cake as they entered.
"Barney...what'chya cooking mate?" said Scorpius. The other house elves ignored the two wizards, but Barnabus pricked an ear. "I think...it...would...be...obvious." He physically lifted the large cake which dwarfed his head ears and all. He turned and plopped the large cake into a pan and proceeded to levitated it into an open oven. Unlike the other elves in the kitchen, Barnabus was short, the tips of his ears barely reaching the underside of the counter-top.
"Are we still on for you know what at you know when?" said Barnabus, in a squeaky whisper.
Albus nodded, "Do you have any of those buns left?"
"Ooh...oh…." mumbled Barnabus, "I think...I...uh..." he ran towards another cupboard and withdrew a tin. The kitchen instantly filled with the smell of what only could be described as… "Sunshine in a tin," said Scorpius. A strange un-Scorpius like smirk crossed his face as the smell wafted over him. Albus absentmindedly licked his lips.
"Remember our deal, you get these and I..." he looked left and right with his large slate blue eyes, "...get you know what."
"Yes...of course, as promised," said Albus. Both he and Scorpius took a bun each and ran back up the stairs to the great hall. Then quickly passed by their table as the smell of the buns filled the room. By the time they'd reached the entrance the entire hall was looking around to discover the source of the aroma.
The stairs to the Slytherin chambers wound down and past the door to the dungeons where a weeping Peeves hovered, one side of his face protruding from the door. Even he perked up as the smell of the buns came to him. "What...what do you boys have there?" the ghost said.
"Uh...something special from a friend Peeves. Just a new kind of bun," said Scorpius. The boys skirted past the ghost who began to weep once more.
"What's wrong with Peeves?" asked a first year who witnessed the ghost as the door to the chambers opened. "Probably upset over Professor Binns' return to the veil," said Albus.
"Or that he can't eat one of the buns," said Scorpius.
The aroma wafted throughout the Slytherin common house and all through the boy's dorm. In fact, several girls decend the steps to the boys' room giggling over how it smelled far better than the usual smelly socks. Albus and Scorpius smiled as they took their smuggled buns out from under their robes and tapped them as if toasting a fine wine. They both took a bite at the same time, chewed, swallowed, and then devoured the buns with expedient gusto. The sweet yet savory, sometimes tart tangy flavor, erupted in their mouths.
"I...yope...Barngy nefer sta's mayhing des..." said Scorpius with his mouth full. Albus could do nothing but nod. The bell for the sixth period clanged loudly outside the chamber's door. The slender witch, framed in a gold and tarnished copper frame and who guarded the door, screamed out in a screeching voice, "Sixth Period...get to class you little..." but she was cut off by a weeping Peeves who blew a halfhearted raspberry at her. Most of the students rushed the door heading to their respective classes, but Albus and Scorpius took their time. They followed the gaggle of students out the portcullis and into the main yard. Several fifth years were assigned to Magical Beasts and Behemoths, an offshoot of Care of Magical Creatures which Mcgonagall reluctantly agreed to allow at the behest of Hagrid.
The short walk down to Hagrids hut didn't prevent them from being the last to arrive.
"Ah'righ' ah'right class, se'tle down. Potter...Malfoy...'urry up, yur gonna' miss all der fun." Hagrid waved them over and a quick look from Matilda showed her surprise they'd made it. "Now then...my itle' brother Grawpy 'as been practicin' and...woll yur know...'e's got a hard time wi'th English. Bu't don' worry, he's jus' a giant."
"Don't worry he says..." whispered one boy. A few looked around trying to see Grawp, who, as most of them rightly suspected, shouldn't be hard to spot.
"He-ro..." said Grawp from behind them, his big head twisted to look up at them as his body grew more erect. Several of the students jumped, but for Albus and Scorpius it was part of the usual game. "You tickle like ants, ha-ha-haa," said Grawp, his laugh boomed. Branches, twigs, leaves, and all sorts of muck slid from his back along with a cape that covered his entire body. Where once there was a grassy knoll, over which most of the students had walked to reach the spot for the class, now was Grawp and a rather large hole.
"Thank you Grawpy. Now, can any'un tell me w'at Grawp 'ere jus' demonstrated?"
"Camouflage," quipped a squeaky small voice. Lacey Cobb stood on her chair, mostly to get a better look at Grawp, as she continued. Grawp smiled with a broad toothy smile at the class. "He used the brush and bits to blend into the grounds. Hiding in plain sight."
"Aye, yer see, many o' the bigger beasts and creatures use cam-o-flauge.. Some hide, an' others hunt."
Hagrid's big hands swept over an apparently empty meadow. "Thar's a special beast waitin' for ye if ye can find it."
"Is...is it dangerous?" said another student. Both he and the rest of the class looked on with apprehensive interest.
"No worries, perfectly safe..."
"Hagrid?" Albus looked carefully, "Hagrid...are those..."
"Don' spoil it..." said Hagrid waving his hand for a moment, before turning back to Albus who was looking on along with Scorpius, "Ye can see 'em, Albus?"
"Yeah..." said Scorpius. He looked to Hagrid and then to Albus again.
"Er...we'll talk af'r class..." said Hagrid and he turned back to the class, "...now who 'ere can see em?"
No one in the class rose their hands. A few thought they saw something move, but just couldn't make out what it was. Even Matilda seemed at a loss. Minutes passed until Grawp took a deep breath, "Huuuuh….huuuuu...a chooooo". The giant's sneeze blew heavily over the class and several trees lost their autumn leaves. Most of the students took cover just in time, ducking down and holding on for dear life. A few of them weren't so lucky, including Lacey Cobb who was carried off the bench she stood on. Hagrid dived to catch her, like a football, and landed in a huff. In the flutter of leaves the outline of winged horses briefly formed before they leapt into flight.
"As yer can see, cam-o-flauge can hide ya in plain sight. Al'tho it 'as its flaws," said Hagrid as he regained his footing.
"If I had to guess, they were Thestrals," said Matilda.
"Right you are...o' course not many of you could prob'ly see 'em proper an' all." Hagrid beamed up at Grawp for a moment, who despite Hagrid's best efforts, was picking his nose again.
"Does anyone know why..." said Hagrid stepping over a few of the students in the front as he walked towards Grawp, "...only some of ya' can see a Thestral?" Hagrid finished in a distracted sigh and reached up to Grawp to grab his arm, gingerly pulling it from Grawp's mouth. A line of saliva and boogie lingered between Grawp's fingers and lips.
"It's because you have to see death," said Scorpius, realizing that he and Albus both had witnessed deaths in a way.
"Aye. Now...what other beasts...oh...Grawp...GRAWPY...You Stop That..." Hagrid couldn't quite finish his sentence as Grawp picked him up by his arm and started swinging Hagrid around like a doll. Some of the students erupted in laughter, others watched on horrified as Hagrid was dangled about.
"Grawpy...I'm teaching...I'm...I'm teaching a class...so...put...me...down!"
Grawp's grin tightened as he let go of Hagrid who fell to the ground landing in a heap for a second time in that period. The class gathered around him as he sat up. "Should we get Madam Pomfrey?" said another student, a taller girl from Gryffindor.
"No...no...I'm ah'right...I think...ooo..." Hagrid bit his lip as he stood, "tha' class aught to be dismissed...fur next week...oh...what're the guidelines again...three inches on cam-o-flauge and creatures dat use it." Hagrid began to stumble towards his hut which prompted Grawp to stand, shaking the ground. Albus looked at Scorpius and then past him to see Matilda already walking up the hill back towards the school. "You fancy her I bet..." said Albus.
"I do not...wait...who?" Scorpius looked around to see who Albus was referring to. He finally settled on Matilda who lead the gaggle of students returning to the school. Every few steps, as Grawp landed another large footfall, the kids would shake a bit.
"I-I...get off it, Albus," screeched Scorpius. A fowl look crossed him as he looked to Matilda and then back to Albus, "maybe you like her..."
"What...that...that...insufferable know-it-all, no way!" Albus and Scorpius looked at each other briefly before bursting out laughing.
Time flew by with the last few classes of the day fluttering away and soon both Albus and Scorpius stood down a long stretch of hall waiting for Barnabus. In a wisp and spark he apparated in front of them just as the bell struck seven. The floppy eared house-elf danced a bit, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm so excited...excited ECK-SIT-EHD"
"We can tell," said Scorpius. Albus focused, squeezed his eyes shut, and stood there. Moments passed and finally a door appeared before them. "We can train you in here," said Albus. All three entered the room, the door closing and vanishing behind them. Inside was a familiar room, dummies for practicing spells, floor mats and other items useful for learning the use of a wand. Even the markings of age old battles, magical scars, peaked out of the dark corners of the room. One wall was barren, brick and mortar crumble all over the floor in front of it, this too a scar of the past.
"How did you know to come here?" ask Barnabus. His bouncing was replaced by a sense of awe, his eyes slowly scanning the room.
"My father told me about it," said Albus, "he said, when he was in his fifth year he, Hermoine, and uncle Ron trained their classmates in Defense Against the Dark Arts in here. This crazy toad lady ended up running Hogwarts. She ruined the classes..."
"Ruined is a bit harsh..." said Scorpius, "according to my father she was brilliant."
"Brilliant? My father has a scar on the back of his hand because of her…."
Scorpius sighed, as of late it was if the weight of their fathers' past was on them.
"It doesn't matter, now...let's just teach Barney, right?"
"Right," said Albus. "So who's wand is he going to use, yours or mine?"
Barnabus looked back and forth between the two of them before walking to the back of the room and picking up a worn, yet whole, wand. Ebony in color, the intricate details were long rubbed from the handle, a faded image of the wizard who once used it. As the elf picked up the wand a light breeze swept through the room and a dull white light shown. Barnabus looked to the two young wizards and held up the wand.
"I found one..."
Of course he'd no need to tell them for both Albus and Scorpius looked up at Barnabus as the breeze swept through the room and saw the light themselves. "It seems fate is on our side," said Scorpius.
"Looks like that wand's chosen you, Barney," said Albus.
"So...now what?" said Barnabus.
"We begin with the basics," said Scorpius as Albus brought over a training dummy.
Deep in the bowels of the Ministry for Magic, hidden away in a dark sealed room, the looking glass of Kespin the Seer stood on a pedestal. Few prophecies and predictions find themselves in this special recess. For here, in this room, only two other orbs are kept. And at this very moment the orb of Kespin the Seer began to speak its prophecy, as it had every year for four hundred years, with one exception;
Magic's darkest days are here, and when the division is reunited, long past devils will walk the earth once more. He who must not be named, hiding, waiting, will battle with a once and future king. Old and New will fuse, fallen will rise, and the risen will fall.
"It said 'here'..." whispered a ragged witch in a painting. Several voices echoed as dozens of frames filled with witch and wizard alike. Another witch, adorned with a matron's hat, whistled loudly, "Pheworl…." it echoed loudly, drawing the attention of the various paintings. "Now listen here," said the Witch in a soothing yet commanding voice, "We were given this task, to monitor these prophecies, for a reason. We must go at once and report the change to whom it concerns."
Most nodded in agreement, walking back into their frames and disappearing from sight. Others shook their head, and others still watched on hoping the first prophecy or the other two orbs would speak. The matron's hat adorned witch followed suit, and disappeared into her frame. Moments later she reappeared in her frame on the wall of the Minister for Magic's office. Hermoine Granger, deep in thought as always, didn't notice the witch. Papers were organized in piles across her desk, and several owls were perched on marked pedestals.
"Eh-hem..." said the witch in the painting. Without looking up, Hermoine addressed the frame, "What is it Hortensia? I'm quite busy as you can see..."
"As you know, Minister, I'm one of several watchers of the prophecies."
"I do know, I take it there has been no change, as usual," said Hermoine, still reading a long parchment.
"Well...no..."
"No..." Hermoine looked up, this time pointedly looking at the witch, "what do you mean by no?"
"It..it said 'here'…." Hortensia Milliphut peered down from her painting, "you know what this means."
"I hold little stock in prophecies, none-the-less..." started Hermoine before an owl flew through an open window and landed on her desk. A letter was neatly addressed to her. The formal scrawl indicated the office of President Quahog of MACUSA.
"I'll see to it the Auror's office is notified," said Hortensia with a knowing nod.
"Yes...thank you," said Hermoine as she took the letter from the owl.
Merlin stood in front of a coffee shop looking at a baffled reporter as she walked down the street. He could feel the change in the air, his wizened face and beard tingled with electricity. The time had come, the time he'd waited for so long to arrive.
***
Thin beams of light pierced the blackness of a crypt. Stale air stirred ancient dust into whirls of eddies. Long dead candles sprung to life lighting the interior of the tomb. Water drippings stopped midair before being whisked back through the cracks in the ceiling which slowly reformed. Broken pieces zipped into place, flying from the floor to the roof. The decaying wood tables that lined the walls, covered now in the husks of rotten food flashed back to life and the rot of the food disappeared, in it's place fresh apples, pears, cakes and breads.
Then, in the quiet, a knock, thunderous, then another. The wood sarcophagus strained and splintered, and with the greatest of effort swung open. A young Arthur sat up. His blue eyes furrowed into a deep frown, "Mer...eh...uch...Merlin...what the...". Grasping the rim of the sarcophagus, he pulled himself up and out, but as he tried to stand he fell backwards. "So...thirsty.." he said. He tried to stand a second time, this time falling forward as his legs gave out. Slowly he reached a table where a jug was left. He poured it into a silver chalice and drank. The stale flavor of ancient wine filled his mouth, dusty and flaccid, but it did what he'd hoped. He drank it down and reached or more food. He'd soon filled himself with what he could. Looking around the cloud hanging over him lifted and he remembered he'd died. "But if I'm alive...or is this the afterlife?" he shook his head… "no, there wouldn't be stale wine and overly ripe fruit...damn, MERLIN!" he yelled.
His chain-mail clanged as it loosened and returned to its former glory. The closer to the door of the crypt he was, the stronger he felt, the more alive he grew. The door swung open with ease and there, beyond a few short steps, was a sunlight horizon just dawning. "Where am I?"
It didn't take Arthur long to find a path off the island where he was entombed, or he thought it was an island. As he walked along a strange black surface marked with lines and signs that made no sense to him, the vision of water vanished, replaced by green treetops and glistening lights beyond. The further he went the more he realized the pavement was a road and the fog of death lifted from him. Turning back, the island was gone, the tomb entrance was gone, all that remained was a winding road leading north.
His journey continued on for an hour until the forest opened up into wide open fields. In the distance, a strange beast approached. It's eyes were brightly lit and it growled like a pride of lions. Arthur drew his sword and ducked to the side of the road. He watched as the beast approached and quickly passed by him. It was a dark blue and he had just enough time to read an emblem scrawled upon it's breast, "Fi-at?" Shaking his head he carried on, but soon more came. It wasn't too long until he realized they were not some strange conjuration of magic, but a sort of carriage. The dawn light turned overhead and the noon day son beat down on him. The road carried on until he reached a sign marked Cefn Carnau Lane. The road widened and several of the strange carriages zoomed past. He made it another hundred feet before a much larger carriage stopped to let several people off. The driver waited for him with the doors wide open.
"Getting on or off?" said the driver.
"Pe?" said Arthur, "nann, ne gomprenan ket…"
"Where...are…you...from…?" said the driver in a loud Welsh accent?
"What?" said Arthur again, "I can't understand you. Where am I?"
The driver shook his head unable to understand Arthur and closed the doors of the bus. It roared to life and carried down the road.
"What is wrong with these people...where the hell am I?" Anger overwhelmed Arthur and he began to run down the street. The further into town he got the more congested the road became. People stared at him, drivers honked at him, and all the more confusing it became. Minutes passed, everyone speaking a strange tongue as he ran past them. Surely there was someone who'd understand him, somewhere, he thought. At the end of the street appeared a castle, isolated from the rest of the city, a familiar sight for Arthur. He ran past the guard tower, down a long path and into the court yard. Tourists and visitors turned to watch as he ran towards the main building. Only dilapidated walls and warning signs were there to great him.
"No...no this can't be right. Merlin! I'll murder him," said Arthur as he ranted and raved. Several people ran from the entrance of the main building. It wasn't long until the police arrived, including Detective Cooper.
"Are you sure this is...you know?" said PC Davidson, "I mean, Torchwood's been gone now for sometime."
"Yes," said Gwen, "just because Torchwood is gone doesn't mean alien activity just stopped happening. A temporal rift opened up about four miles from here, and then a man dressed in a knight's regalia just so happens to be spotted wandering around a castle ruin in Caerphilly...that can't be coincidence."
Gwen strode into the castle courtyard followed closely by her reinstated partner, Andy Davidson. At the entrance to the main building several constables, armed with billy-clubs, defended themselves against Arthur. He swung wildly against the police his sword narrowly missing them.
"Pele'c emaon?" screamed Arthur, "Why are you attacking me?"
"What language is that?" said Andy.
"I don't know, but I can find out," said Gwen. She retrieved from her bag a small device and pointed it at Arthur. As he yelled again what he said was translated on the screen.
"He's speaking a very old Celtic dialect. He's asking where he is and why we're attacking him."
Gwen looked up at Arthur who made eye contact with her. "You!" he screamed, "Witch, you did this...I don't know how you're alive, but you'll send me back to Camelot, now!".
"What did he say Gwen?" Gwen passed the device to Andy who quickly read the translation. Before the other constables could react, Arthur charged through them bowling several of them over. He raced towards Gwen who aimed an alien looking gun at him. He quickly closed the distance before she fired and a bolt of energy struck Arthur squarely on the chest. For a second it looked as if it worked, but the energy discharged along his armor. "Take me to Camelot, now!" Arthur screamed as he leveled his sword at her. Andy read the translation aloud.
"I can't," she said, the little box quickly translated it back in to the Brittonic language Arthur knew and dictated it in a broken diction. Arthur looked to her then to the device, but kept his sword leveled at her. "Then tell me where's Merlin." As the translator finished Gwen shook her head, "I don't know any Merlins. Who are you?" As she spoke she looked at the local CPs and motioned them to stay put.
Arthur's frowned as he listened to the translator. "I am King Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon, king of Albion. Haven't you heard of me?"
"Gwen," said Andy, "I think we have a nutter on our hands."
"I..." Gwen started as she slowly pushed Arthur's sword out of her way, "...don't think so. Quickly get him to the car, we can't let them take him." Andy nodded and, with a little help from the translator, got Arthur to comply. Gwen approached the local police. "Okay boys, we have him. Off you pop."
One of the CPs charged right up to her, "Ya gotta be kidding, he attacked several of us, that's assault."
"None of you are dead, be grateful," said Gwen. "Look, he's listenin' to us, do you think he'd have gone quietly with you? Prancing about with your little batons?"
"We're not done with this, not by a long shot...detective." The CP marched past Gwen, and the others followed him back to their cars leaving Gwen behind.
The side door of the black Range Rover swung open and Andy coaxed Arthur into the backseat and buckled him in. By the time the whole ordeal between Gwen and the CPs concluded Andy was behind the drivers seat and ready to gun the engine. It wasn't long before Gwen crossed the moat and climbed into the passenger seat. Andy wasted no time and pulled away.
"We need to talk to John and find a way to get him up to speed," she said as she nodded to Arthur..
"You're not thinking of taking him there, are you?" said Andy, a nervous wideeyed look crossed his face.
"What else would you have me do? No one else could handle this situation. John can just pop him back to his time." Gwen waived her hand unaware the translator was still operating. The translator spoke all that was said in Arthur's tongue.
"Nann..." said Arthur, "No," said the translator echoing him a second later. Gwen looked back at Arthur before grabbing the translator and turning it off. "Besides," she began, "it's the only place those idiots won't find him."
Andy sighed and nodded in agreement. The two fell into silence leaving only the rush of tires on asphalt and whir of wind to fill the space. Arthur looked on ever more puzzled and infuriated.
Veil of Shadows
The class bemoaned the length of parchment to be turned into Mcgonagall. Some, like Matilda were well ready, but for both Albus and Scorpius, their reports were less than stellar. It seemed every other line was an unanswered question.
"How'd you do it?" asked Albus, scanning over Matilda's essay.
"It's all in the preparation," she said. She hastily took the parchment from Albus' hand as she readied it to be turned in. Mcgonagall stood at the front of the class like before, her eyes narrowed into a furrow. "I would suspect all of you came with prepared parchments. Please place them in the bin as it comes by." She let a small wooden box float down one aisle collecting the scrolls from each student before it returned to her desk. "Now, there is wonderful news, we've found a replacement for professor Binns. As luck would have it a rather talented wizard responded to my requests." She raised her hand to the study door through which the stern, yet far younger beardless Merlin appeared. "Please say hello to Ambrosius Aurelianus, he shall be your new history instructor. Professor they're all yours."
"Thank you headmistress," said Merlin, "I look forward to instructing these fine students." Merlin watched as Mcgonagall took her leave, his eyes shifted from the back of her head to the classroom. Many of the students blankly stared at him, some of the girls giggled, and both Ablus and Scorpius looked to the bin of scrolls which carried their less than perfect essays.
"The history of magic is, to say the least, fraught with dangers, misinformation, and above all else mystery," started Merlin. Without lifting a finger, let alone a wand, the board scribbled his name in chalk, rearranging the words and symbols left there from the class before. "You may address me by Professor Aurel, and from this moment forward I think you will find the history of magic far more interesting."
The class continued smoothly, except for Merlin's perpetual rebuking of the history textbook. As the end of class grew closer Merlin noticed the tension of the students. Matilda was a true pain he thought, and the two boys in the back I've got to keep an eye on them.
The bell rang for the class period to end, "Now, each of you are assigned a section of this...this...textbook, you are to write for me, in groups, six feet of parchment discussing the errors found in your section. I give you permission to use any resource you may find to correct these sections." Several of the students looked to each other as they left, crowding into their assigned groups, which had appeared on the board behind Merlin. Matilda found herself tied to Ablus and Scorpius.
"I hope you don't think you can pin all of the work on me." she said pointedly.
"Whatever," said Scorpius who was as distracted as Albus, "meet us in the library later, after dinner."
"Hmph," she said, before walking out of the room.
Albus and Scorpius snuck forward towards the desk and therein the bin. As they got closer Merlin turned to them from the chalkboard. "And what fine wizards do we have here? Hoping to take back your essays?" An amused smirk crossed his face as he waved his hands and the scrolls leapt from the bin and unfurled. Matilda's was first of their group. Merlin read over it quickly before an emblazoned 'P' burned through the bottom nearest her name. "Just dreadful," he said allowed.
Both Albus and Scorpius swallowed hard, If he hated hers, he certainly will hate ours they both thought. The seconds ticked down as Merlin read over their essays. As the warning bell rang both of their essays rolled back up and floated over to the boys.
"Rewrite these, questions are not facts, but good questions can lead to answers," said Merlin, "Gaius always said Patience is a Virtue...I believe, in the case of finding the truth, he was quite right."
"Who's Gaius?" asked Albus. Merlin's only response was to merely point to the door.
The afternoon was abuzz with the assignment Merlin gave to practically every history class. Many of the students, including Matilda, were hard at work in the library. Even the restricted section echoed with chatter. "Hooligans!" screeched Argus Filch as they marched past him. "It's restricted for a reason, brats like you shouldn't be allowed in there!" The old caretaker stroked the matted back hair of his former cat Mrs. Norris, now stuffed in a morbid pose. Professor Sprout looked on, as well, watching as the students went from book rack to book rack. Ima Pince, the librarian, escorted students from corridor to corridor in the Restricted Section. Her usually quiet demeanor was changed to a state of hectic terror mixed with strange delight.
"You there, quiet I say!" she barked and turned to see a second year student holding a massive volume, "No not that one….I said...not..." she was cut off as the student opened the book. As the cover turned a jet of fire shot from the first page forcing the surprised pig tailed girl to drop the book to the floor. Pages fluttered and the fire disappeared. The girl's singed hair filled the library with a dank odor. For a few brief moments Pince looked on as the book fluttered, stopped and laid open to a page near the middle. A book mark made of red coloured scaled leather bulged from the crease. The lit candles, lanterns, and torches dimmed to a dull green and a deep trembling voice emerged.
"...hesi tairais waoli dronilnra sia tobor trelkilt ekess coita sulta…' it grumbled, "Merlin vur Arthur hysvear erekess wer kadenr lae yth itheika ihk tairais ekess annish." With each line read allowed more and more students gathered to hear. Each word glowed a brilliant crimson as the voice perorated.
"That is quite enough. I shall have words with this new professor, I will. Sending second years into the restricted section, everyone disrupting the quiet...ooh…." rattled off Ms. Pince as she scooped up the book and closed it with a thud. "Out...all of you out! Never again...never...nearly burn down the library..." she waved her hands as she shooed the students from the different aisles, "...says the textbook is wrong...who does he think he is..."
Old Draconic seized Merlin as it spoke, waking him from an unintentional nap. Strings of drool drew a line from the puddle on his desk to his mouth as he righted himself. "Kilgarrah?" he mumbled as his eyes focused. The strange moments between wakefulness and sleep still held him, the walls of Hogwarts thwarted his senses, and for a moment he was in his old room in Camelot. The wooden door creaked open and Gaius stood before him, "I know where you were, Merlin. If you get caught it'll mean both of our heads. Merlin, are you listening Merlin?"
"Merlin's beard! Professor Aurel!" Mcgonagall snapped her fingers in front of his face, she was trailed by a most irritated Ms. Pince.
"Ah!" Merlin shouted as he came to, jumping back into his chair which tipped over sending him to the floor behind his desk. "Oh my," said Mcgonagall. Merlin quickly righted himself and his chair, and then looked to the headmaster and librarian.
"There seems to be problem with an assignment you gave to the students," started Mcgonagall. She was quickly interrupted by Ms. Pince. "Of course there is a problem, having second year students roaming through the Restricted Section of the library. It's dangerous..."
"Calm down Ms. Pince, I'm sure Professor Aurel has his reasons." Mcgonagall looked over her glasses, her beady eyes stared up at Merlin.
"Ah..uh...yes, well," Merlin looked from Mcgonagall to Pince, "the textbook...it has several errors." Without thinking a copy of A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot was conjured to his hand. The abrupt use of wandless magic took Mcgonagall aback, but the incensed Pince was unfazed.
"Chapter three suggests the magic purge started almost three hundred years after it finished. Chapter seventeen says that..uh...that Merlin was taught by Salazaar Slytherin, which is simply preposterous. Merlin lived nearly three hundred years before the founding of Hogwarts. Oh, and the section on dragons is simply hysterical...mindless beasts indeed."
"How...how dare you?" Pince spat, "Bathilda Bagshot is the foremost authority on the history of magic. Her book..."
"Is an utter disgrace, a parody," Merlin interjected. He closed and put the book down on his desk. Pulled from the top drawer two scrolls and unfurled them. "Geneva Urdrak, a fifth year in Gryffindor submitted this essay to me." He handed it to Mcgonagall who briefly scanned it, her eyes widened before narrowing again. "Freddie Finnegan, a first year in Hufflepuff, turned this into me." Mcgonagall took the second scroll passing it to a still flustered Ms. Pince.
"Within the very walls of your library, Ms. Pince, lies the truth of magical history. In just two days several students discovered inaccuracies, as I thought they would." Merlin sat down and interlaced his fingers. Mcgongall's frown never strayed from him as she passed the second essay to Ms. Pince. The librarian's face slowly changed from anger to disbelief. Her mouth agape she swallowed hard and set the scrolls back on Merlin's desk.
"I think it best, despite the discoveries made, that you limit the restricted section to sixth and seventh years only," said Mcgonagall, "we don't want any more students singed, stung, and bitten." Merlin nodded as Mcgonagall partially dragged Ms. Pince from his office.
Albus and Scorpius starred up to the ceiling of the Room of Requirements. A chunk of granite slowly crumbled and fell from an arch before reversing and repairing itself. A practice dummy laid in ruins, splintered, and scattered across the floor. Barnabus bounced merrily on the balls of his feet, the clacking of hard leather heals, made by the mismatched pair of dance shoes and loafers he wore, ticked away.
"You've been practicing," said Scorpius breathless. Albus nodded in agreement as he laid panting.
"What's next...next next..." said Barnabus. His large eyes focused on the two young wizards.
"I think," said Scorpius as he sat up, "we should take a break. Halloween is nearly here and we still have that group essay to write. Then there's..." Scorpius stopped, the sight of Barnabus tearing up caught him by surprise. He hit Albus in the leg prompting him to sit up too.
"Don't worry Barney," said Albus, "we'll pickup in a couple of weeks. It gives us time to learn what we're going to teach you, you know?"
The house elf sniffled a bit and nodded before dissaperating with a loud snap.
"Sheesh!" said Albus. Shaking his head, he stood and looked around.
"At the rate he's learning, he'll graduate from Hogwarts before we get to Christmas," said Scoprius.
"I don't know about that, maybe get bumped a year. I mean he's learning most of this from you at any rate."
"Oh come off it Al," said Scorpius, "You're better at charms than me...but we need to think about the essay. I heard Matilda's already turned her group's in."
"I can't believe she ditched us for Suzy McDonald and Marty Jesslewack."
Scorpius stood and nodded in agreement.
"You know, uncle Ron said this room could conjure up anything you could ever need or want. I bet we could get it to give us what we need to find out about Merlin."
"That could work, instead of searching the library endlessly we could just...just." Scorpius and Albus turned to each other and ran to the door which materialized as usual. Standing outside they both focused on the door and the room and repeatedly asked in their heads Show us what happened to Merlin… The stone floor ground and the bricks in the wall shifted, the door to the Room grew in size reaching to the ceiling in the hall with a grand arch.
"This is too easy," said Scorpius. "Matilda is going to hate us," said Albus. Their eyes and heads followed the door all the way up to the ceiling, and with a whoosh of stale air, the large doors swung open revealing a cavernous dark room. The two cautiously entered unsure as to what they'd find. Several steps in and torches lit themselves and the doors swung behind them closing and disappearing.
***
Captain Jon Hart chewed on a hang-nail as he watched an episode of Q.I.. His chair leaned far back as he steadied himself with his feet up on a metal desk. The office was spacious enough for his operation, a small P.I. firm which acted as the cover for the reassembled Torchwood. The view of Sophia's Gardens and Cooper Field across the road made up for the cost. Not that he'd had any choice in the matter. Mad Light private investigators was Gwen's idea, and the location wasn't random either. It was the location of a time-shift that briefly trapped Jack and Tosh in the past.
The audience roared with laughter at the sight of Stephen Fry who had accidentally set his waistcoat on fire during an experiment. "Remember kids magnesium and fire don't mix...well..and now for the scores, my my my they are magnificent...in last place with negative 31 Sue Perkins...".
The door to the office clicked a few times and then swung open, and Gwen, Andy, and Arthur walked through. "How was your lil' excursion?" John said, without averting his eyes from the television.
"No aliens if that's what you're asking," said Andy.
"Which is a bit odd, now isn't it?" said John. The credits for Q.I. scrolled along the screen, it's merry end tune playing along. John finally turned to look at Gwen and Andy to find Arthur looking curiously at the TV.
"Peta bezan hud?" said Arthur, gesturing to the television.
"He's not from around here, by the looks of him...seventh century give or take...thirty years?" said John. "Cute though...he'd give Jack a run for his money." Gwen scowled at him, "You'd flirt with anyone, thank god we kept you away from Mrs. March's Howler Monkey."
"When you're about to die, well, everything looks sexy." John waved his hands through the air following an imaginary vivacious silhouette, "even you."
"Fuck you, you bastard," said Gwen in a heavier than usual Welsh accent, "isn't it enough we put up with you?"
"Guys...GUYS!" Andy interrupted, "aren't we a bit off topic?"
"Yes, let's get back to this beef cake," said John. He promptly turned and slapped Arthur on his ass as he walked past him towards the open kitchen. "Vodka? Scotch? Callerisian Ale?" John said.
Arthur looked on in stunned disbelief… "Muzleare! Te lous-ki!" Without any hesitation Arthur rounded the desk and had grasped John by the collar of his shirt, and before either Gwen or Andy could do anything, threw him over a small island and against the far wall. John landed awkwardly, but picked himself up as his vortex manipulator began to beep. "Right, that should do it."
"Do what?" said Arthur and to the astonishment of Gwen and Andy, they understood him.
"You're speaking English," said Andy.
"Translation matrix finally got enough to translate," said John.
"Why'd you slap me on my ass?"
"It wasn't personal...okay well you have a nice ass, but I needed to get a few nanites in your system for this to work." John pushed away from the wall and crumpled right back against it. "I didn't think you were that strong though. You must be freaking kinky in bed."
"John, enough," said Gwen.
"I think I'll be off," said Andy, who had gone red in the face, turned and opened the door.
"Thanks, I'll be in touch," said Gwen. Andy closed the door behind him leaving Gwen, John, and Arthur alone. If almost by providence the silence between the three was broken by a news flash on BBC One. The breaking news music was short and loud. The screen flashed and a blond woman in her twenties appeared. "We're sorry to interrupt the QI two part special, I'm Fiona Schofield, George Atwell has the night off. Several sinkholes formed rapidly in central London causing disruptions for the Piccadilly, Northern, Central, Bakerloo, District, Hammersmith, and Jubilee lines. Much of central London is shut down with widespread power outages, collapsed roads, and at least one...this just in" she looked down on a screen and shock crossed her face. "The Gherkin has disappeared. Marissa Richards is on scene we go to her live."
A quick cut to black was followed by a digitally broken picture which cut in and out as the feed came in. An older woman stood in front of the camera talking, but no sound came through. Behind her blue lights flashed and a cloud of smoke and dust hung in the air where the Gherkin should have been. In the next line of images to flash across the screen, Marissa was turned towards the cloud, her hand was raised to shield her eyes, beyond her the landscape was obscured by a blinding light. A second later the screen flashed again, the camera was on the ground pointing in an awkward angle and towards the bottom of the screen Marissa was laid out on the ground her head contorted to an odd angle. The BBC standby screen appeared a moment later cutting off the gruesome scene.
An old Edison phone rang wildly on the wall behind Hermoine. She stood and picked up the ear piece. "Are you lot responsible for this?" said the voice on the other end.
"I assure you we are not. We have Aurors on the scene as we speak, Prime Minister, we will get to the bottom of..."
"I don't care what you do, if I find out you...you...eh-hem" the voice cleared it's throat, "If the wizardry world, as you call it, had anything to do with these explosions there will be a reconning."
"Is that a threat?" said Hermoine, "We've lost people too. How do we know it wasn't some Muggle terrorist attack...you're so swift to..." the ring tone began to drone and Hermoine realized she'd been cut off. Harry and Ron appeared at her door a few minutes later. "..and she said the whole book is incorrect, to think we spent all of those hours reading the History of Magic and now..." Ron stopped as he saw the scowl across Hermoine's face.
"Harry, Ron, tell me you know something about what's happening."
"We aren't sure," said Harry.
"Is it magical or not?" said Hermoine, she dropped to her chair her arms crossed. A strand of her bangs fell from her otherwise neatly kept hair, but her eyes never left the two of them.
"That's the thing, we can't tell," said Ron, "if it is magic its not like anything we've seen before."
"No identification magic works, there's no magical residue, no energy signature of any kind." said Harry as he sat down in a chair opposite Hermoine. Hermoine relaxed her arms and went from her stern attitude to one of contemplation.
A young wizard, no more than sixteen, with heavy glasses skirted past Ron without a word dropping a black scroll on Hermoine's desk. "If that's what we think it is, we better go," said Ron turning back towards the door. "Ronald, sit down!" said Hermoine. A soft looking chair rolled a way from the desk and the door to her office slammed shut. "Uh..right, yes of course," said Ron shaking his head as he did so. "Just because we've separated doesn't mean..." Hermoine looked from Harry to Ron, "We don't have time for this. If the scroll from the Dept. Of Mysteries is about the explosions you'll need to know."
Hermoine waved her wand over the seal which burned away in a purple flash of light. Unraveling, the foot or so of paper revealed a list of fifteen dead witches and wizards, all pure-bloods, and continued;
At four fifty two in the afternoon, an upwelling of magic, not dissimilar to the magic of the Veiled Arch, emanated from each of the deceased listed. Upon further inspection, an unidentified magical signature was left around the heart of each of the deceased. The residual magic faded quickly with the use of any identifying spells, leaving a burn ring across their hearts. Muggle Fordensic Patheo-lo-gist-inspectors were quick to right it off as a result of extremely high energy bursts of some sort. They said "gamma" bursts. We will update you as necessary.
PDM
"He means forensic pathologist, he's worse than your dad Ron," said Hermoine, placing the scroll on her desk. The scroll sprang back to a rolled position and melted into a black goo which dissipated rapidly into a puff of smoke.
"Are all the Department of Mystery scrolls like that?" said Ron. Hermoine gave him an Of course they are look.
"Do what you can to find out what caused the explosions. Use whatever you can."
"We will, don't worry Hermoine. Rose says hi by the way, she misses you and loves her new history professor at Hogwarts," said Ron. Hermoine nodded and the door to her office swung open, "I'll send an owl soon."
St. Mary's Ave was marred with holes and pockmarked with uplifted pavement. It wasn't so much a street you'd find in the middle of a busy city like London, as it was reminiscent of a war zone. Where the Gherkin once stood, there was nothing more than a giant crater. Several of the smaller buildings around the block were toppled or collapsed, save for St. Helen's Bishopgate and Bevis Mark's Synagogue. Police had cordoned off the street and surrounding blocks. The sun was just setting as Harry and Ron apparated into a small green space off of Undershaft, near where BMI City Medical once stood. Volunteers and rescue workers still dug through the rubble of the buildings and the two of them went unnoticed.
Both approached the large crater and then walked down into it. Harry's wand burned hot in his pocket as he closed in on the center. "Some powerful magic did this," he said. Ron nodded, "It's like a bomb went off." Harry nodded to the road and Ron walked back, when the coast was clear a loud whistle blew in Harry's ear. Taking his wand out, Harry pointed it at the center of the crater and said "spectris praeteritum."
A stream of gold light flowed from the wand's tip, time slowed, and Harry could see Ron turning ever slowly back toward the road. Seconds past and then a stream of images filled the crater. A row of old townhouses formed before Harry's eyes, the lives of a family most certainly from the turn of the century, fluttered quickly as if on fast forward. A mother holding a baby, then a toddler, a young man stood in summer shorts and knee-high socks, then a weeping man dressed in black holding a letter. Then fire and a grand explosion, and then nothing. Ron whistled loudly again the sound breaking the spells trance. Harry whipped his wand sucking the golden light back in, the crater returned to normal and they day resumed. Several London police walked past ignoring Ron and Harry. It didn't take long for Harry to climb to the ridge of the crater where Ron waited.
"Anything?" asked Ron.
"I'm not sure, I saw a family maybe a hundred years ago..." Harry paused as a strange object caught his eye. No sooner than he saw it was he running to it, Ron close behind. "What...what is it Harry?"
"I'm no Muggle expert, but I think it's a bombshell casing," said Harry.
"Or a piece of it anyway," said Ron, picking up a chunk of scrap metal with a few charred characters on it.
High on top of one of the few remaining modern buildings along Camomile Street, John Hart spied upon Harry and Ron with a pair of binoculars. "We've got some...I really don't know what we've got actually, but we've got two of 'em," said John into his ear piece.
"What are they? Alien? Weevils?" said Gwen. She rounded the corner of the building and approached the crater. Her black leather coat and tight jeans clashed against the scene full of uniformed police. One officer, assigned to the perimeter, stopped her as she crossed the police line. "Stop, where'dya think you're going?"
"I'm Detective Gwen Cooper," said Gwen as she flashed her badge.
"Cardiff Police, what're Cardiff Police doing in London?" said the officer.
"Investigating," said Gwen. She pushed past the officer with a bit of gusto leaving him annoyed.
As she descended into the crater she also noticed Harry and Ron, and as she reached to radio John, the ear piece fizzled and popped causing her to pull it from her ear hastily. "Fuck!" she said.
"Harry, someone's noticed us," said Ron, as she pointed out Gwen.
"The anti-muggle ward must've warn off," said Harry under his breath.
"Oi...you two," said Gwen, as she approached them, "Who are you and what're you doing here?"
"Us...we uh..." started Harry, but Ron interjected "We're tourists...we're uh...what do you call it." Harry jabbed his foot into Ron's before he could finish. The look on Gwen's face was part quizzical and part astonished at the idiocy of Ron's lie.
"You don't go site seein' where a bomb's gone off," she said as she pulled her gun and pointed it at them, "you're coming with me. Now move!"
"Alright...alright...easy now...just don't..." Harry stopped for a moment as he raised his hands his wand tightly gripped in his right. "Don't do it Harry," said Ron. His hands were also raised, "we can't expose you know what to you know who."
"Shut up Ron..." said Harry through gritted teeth.
"You know I can hear you, right?" said Gwen, "Move, that way." She motioned with her gun back towards the accosted officer and to where John awaited them. The officer from before once again intervened as they approached. "Who're they?"
"Don't know, cuff both of them, I'm taking them into custody," said Gwen.
"An' what if I don't wanna cuff 'em?" said the officer.
"Then I'll have you written up for disobeying a direct order." Gwen stared down the constable who finally gave up the eye contact and proceeded to cuff both Harry and Ron and confiscated their wands. John took the cue to bring the SUV around and with little hassle from the officer, Harry and Ron found themselves hurtling away from downtown London.
"Excuse me," Harry began, "where are you taking us?"
"More importantly, will there be food?" said Ron.
"Stop thinking with your stomach," said Harry annoyed.
"What, I get hungry when I'm nervous..."
Gwen turned towards them from her front seat, a retinal scanner in hand. "Alright, what planet are you from, what do you know about the bombings, and why are you dressed like that?" She leveled the scanner at them both.
"What do you mean what planet are we from?" said Ron bemused.
"Are you Aliens?" said Gwen.
"You must be joking," said Harry with a smile, "Aliens aren't real...they're just..you know, fiction, made-up."
Gwen nodded for a moment as the scanner confirmed he was telling the truth. "If you're not alien then what was the weird light you produced when you were at the bomb site?"
"We didn't...what weird light?" said Ron. His face scrunched up in a dumb oblivious way, not unfamiliar to Hermoine when she's caught him sneaking a doughnut or pasty before dinner.
"You're lying..." Gwen started, "see this, it's a means of telling if a person's lying or not."
"Alright...alright," said Harry, "we'll tell you."
"The statute of secrecy..." Ron whispered.
"I know, but if they've seen us already there's nothing to it. We're wizards, Aurors, from the Ministry of Magic. We were sent to find out what happened by the minister herself."
"Ministry of Magic, that's...well you're not lying," Gwen looked from them to the retinal scanner.
"So you believe us?" asked Ron.
"All in all," Gwen said as she looked up at Harry and Ron, "it's not actually the weirdest thing I've heard today."
"Now I've experienced far weirder, there was this one time with a giant space-slug," said John, before stopping at seeing Gwen's face. "Look, space-slug sex is weirdly arousing, Jack understood."
"We don't need to be regaled with your horror list of sexual encounters, again."
"Oh...I didn't think I told you that one."
"Space-slugs, a Dalek, a two headed green concubine from Roxicoricofallapitorius, a poodle…." rattled of Gwen.
"Don't forget that foxy minx...what was his name?" said Jon.
"It was a grey werewolf who nearly bit your head off!" said Gwen as she took a quick glance to the side mirrors of the SUV.
"Stewart...poor Stewart."
"Finally!", exclaimed Merlin, "Yes, finally I've found something truthful in this dreadful tome the Ministry calls a textbook." Merlin slammed the book defiantly upon the pedestal at the front of the class. The loud thud echoed in the room and awoke several students. "Chapter nineteen, the domestication of the house-elves."
Several of the students gingerly turned their book to the chapter. The title page showed a house-elf, plainly clothed and not unlike many house-elves known to the students.
Chapter 19: Domestication of the House-Elf
Edited by Bathilda Bagshot, Contributing Writer Vivienne Mal'rose
The following is an excerpt from Vivienne Mal'rose to the Vicar of Albertstein Chapel, Alistair Drummerstadt, in 1687, on the matter of House-Elves and how they came to be.
In the years after the great uprising and the first magical war, the Fae Folk, Aos Is (A-Shee in pronunciation) stood toe to toe with the greatest of man's sorcerers. A great evil arose from deep within the veil to devour all magic. Magic, the life force of the world, the fount of life, if lost to this darkness meant only oblivion.
It is said that Death walked the Earth in these days, the veil torn open by the first magical war. From this time the story of the Deathly Hollows emerged. (It is my deepest belief the Hollows are real and are intrinsically tied to the Veil and Death himself.)
The Fae Folk were first to feel the impact of the impending calamity. Being, as they were, creatures of magic, their life force was tied to the natural ebb and tide of magic. The homes of the Fae Folk closest to magic were the first places for Emergents (as they were called, portals of plane of dead, the otherworld, sometimes called the Ether and later the creatures that came forth) to appear. They drained the magic from where ever they formed, and in doing so, obliterated entire communities instantly. Sidhe (also Shee in pronunciation) Changlings, the guardians of the Fae Folk were divided in how best to protect themselves against the Emergents. It wasn't until a grand elder, Zenoch, witnessed a battle between the new-men (humans) and the beings they called Emergents, during an outing, that a means to protect the Fae came to light.
The new-men were not as easily fazed by the draw of magic, protected, as some might have guessed, by their limited connection to magic. Their spells were clumsy, as Zenoch remarked in his writings, but their life force was not instantly drained. These new-men managed to slay several "
Gwyllion" (Guwil-lien) and "Cyhyraeth" (Se-wraith) (as the new-men called them) before they were dispatched. Their souls sucked from their bodies, harvested, and brought back through the veil. Today, we call these retched creatures Dementors and Wraith.
Zenoch sought to bind the remaining Fae to the new-men in hopes it would save them from instant obliteration. Many followed in his footsteps, others refused. In this, the Aos Si divided and their descendents live greatly differently lives today. Those who did not follow Zenoch, either perished or rooted themselves deep into the wilds. The Cornish Pixie, is, without any doubt, the resulting descendents of these wild Fae.
Zenoch and his followers made a blood pact with the new-men, their magic and life-force would forever be bound to the new-men and rooted in the land of their homes. The blood of men and Fae intermingled transforming the gaunt spry faeries into the lanky bumbling humanesque elves we know today. Zenoch's wager did pay off, and when the Emergents tore open the Veil, the Fae found themselves warded against the near-instant effects and obliteration that ensued. With the common enemy, both men and elf fought to preserve Albion.
The human wizard Kerrigan, thought to be an apprentice of Merlin (Emerys?), bonded with Zenoch and ventured deep into one of the Veil tears. Protected by strong spells passed down to him, they discovered the source of the Emergents. Or at least, that is what the legend says. It is unknown whether or not Kerrigan or Zenoch ever returned from within the Veil. All that is known for sure is not long after they entered, the Veil tears ceased and the remaining Emergents were trapped in this world. To this day the Aos Si are bound to men by an ancient and lost blood pact magic. The pact which served to protect them now enslaves them. By most accounts the pact is fulfilled when a Shee is granted protection by the new-men to whom they're tied, by spell, or as it has come to be practiced, the giving of clothing. This may be related to the blood pact ritual, done naked before nature and magic in the old ways. Perhaps the act of clothing or divesting oneself from nature breaks the bond?
It is my belief it is best to keep the House-Elf tamed, for if they were to return to the power they once knew, who knows what havoc would be wrought upon us.
The chapter went on to discuss the strange mating rituals of house-elves, the trading of tea-cozies and an awkward dance which seemed to mimic the flight of a butterfly.
Albus and Scorpius reread the letter, then a third time, looking up at each other and then back to the book.
"Now class," started Merlin, "I've asked one of the house-elves that work here in Hogwarts to join us for class. Please welcome Barnabus." A quick sucking sound filled the room for a moment and Barney apparated next to Merlin. His floppy ears waved a bit as he took a slight bow. "Barnabus here is the son of two rather famous house-elves: Dolby who is forever memorialized at the base of the front steps of Hogwarts for his efforts in stopping Tom Riddle…"
"You mean Lord Voldemort," piped up a student at the front of the class.
"Ah...yes, Lord Voldemort was his pseudonym...anyway, and Barnabus' mother was Winky who has since passed away. Barnabus is the first free elf born in many a century." Merlin tapped the elf on the top of his head and smiled, "Oh, and he is now, officially a Hogwarts student."
"What?" gasped a few students, others smiled and nodded, but both Albus and Scorpius stood and started to clap.
"T-thanks..." said a blushing Barney.
"There will be a formal announcement at supper, but for today he'll be joining us in class. Now finish reading the chapter on the...ehem...domestication of house-elves." Merlin waved his hand briefly at the chalkboard where the assignment appeared and returned to his study. Barney took a seat next to Albus and Scorpius "I was accepted, it's...it's..."
"Shameful, that's what is," said Adelaide Haneba. The taller than average brown haired girl turned to face the three, "and you helped it!"
"Barney's our friend, Adel," said Scorpius, "it's simply not right that he be banned from learning magic like the rest of us."
"He's...he's..." Adelaide looked disgusted, but couldn't bring herself to say what she was thinking. "I'm what?" said Barney, "just an 'ouse-elf, is that it?" Adelaide sneered and turned back to the front of the classroom.
**
Merlin neatly sat himself behind his desk and interlaced his fingers. Each class brought with it the chance of learning where Arthur was and where Avalon disappeared to. His own research turned up little, and the assignments to correct the history book were long and tedious. It'd been some time since he last tried the scrying spells to peer at his long dead friend. The very nature of Avalon disrupted such magic. As he pondered the fruitless efforts of the past a quarrel erupted in the classroom.
The first bolt of magic whizzed past him and hit the door-jam of his office door. In the moments it took him to rise up and walk to the door a full wizard's duel began. On one side was Albus and Scorpius standing in front of Barnabas and on the other Adelaide Haneba and two other Slytherin students, Jason Babel and Corina Arentstein.
"What is going on here!" barked Merlin, who'd now filled the frame of the door.
"Take it back!" fumed Albus, his wand pointed at Adelaide.
"Son of a Mud-blood!" spewed Jason, his pointed jaw and off center nose wiggled as he spoke.
"I said," began Merlin as he rose his hands and all of their wands flew up and out of reach, "what..." as he took a step down the small stairway, "...is..." as he clenched his hand and the wands flew to him, "...going on here!?" The class looked on in stunned silence, for one they'd never seen someone use wandless magic in this fashion, and for another because without intending it Merlin spoke his question in a foreign tongue none of them had heard before. The growling draconic echoed like thunder in the room. In a much calmer voice Merlin repeated himself. "I'll ask only once more, what is going on here?"
Adelaide looked to the ground sheepishly while Jason and Corina backed up out of fear. Albus lowered his arm which was left to hang in the air despite his wand's removal. It was Scorpius to speak first, "She called Barney a filthy beast, said it was shameful he'd been admitted to the school."
"And this was reason to start attacking one another?" said Merlin. He looked slightly puzzled, rather than angry. He placed their wands on the pedestal at the front of the class just as the bell rang.
"Matilda, if you would please run a message to the Headmistress that these five have detention." Merlin pointed to the door directing the rest of the class, "the rest of you are dismissed."