School: Beauxbatons
Theme: Athena
Prompts: [Character] Herpo the Foul (Main Prompt), [Object] Aegis, [Setting] Nysa –The Valley of Nymphs
Year: 6
Word count: 3,799
Author's note explaining theme: The theme of Athena is used throughout the story. Ambrose is a student and Herpo is an inventor, suggesting that both are intelligent, a trait Athena valued. During the conflict in the story (without giving too much away!), Ambrose requires courage and does not have the desire to kill, only to escape. Athena in mythology values above all those who are strong warriors without a brutalistic streak, heros who desire to do the right thing rather than win - and Ambrose is certainly a humble hero. Finally, Athena herself makes an appearance in the story to explain everything to Ambrose. This includes an explanation of his origin, its ultimate purpose having the marks of Athena's ingenuity all over it.
TW: Character death
Thank you to Havelocked, a wonderful beta!
The Valley of the Nymphs, or Nysa, was a wild land. Its forests were thick with ivy and laurel, and the vale was surrounded by high mountains dotted with uncharted caves. It was rumored that Dionysus fell to earth here, left behind by his mother who was killed by Zeus's lightning strike. It was this same strike that made Dionysus immortal. As he was only a baby when he lost his mother, he was cared for by nymphs, the very same after whom the valley was named. This mythology was inextricable from the anima of the people living in the huts clinging to the rocky slopes, and had thoroughly become part of their collective conscience. It wasn't a story to them - it was their history.
It didn't seem altogether astonishing, then, when one day a wizard who inhabited Nysa came upon an abandoned baby. The boy was wrapped in a goatskin blanket and set down beside a stream.
When Herpo cast Homenum Revelio, he found they were alone. He decided there was nothing else to do but pick up the child and take him to the village.
On his way back to his hut, however, Herpo realized if no parent could be found this boy could be quite useful to him. Perhaps the boy was left there by the Gods, and therefore intended for him. He rubbed the golden amulet of Arachne which hung around his neck, wondering to himself. As always, the Gods were silent.
In a way, over the years, it felt like this had to be true. No one ever came for the boy.
/
Twelve years later
/
Herpo and Ambrose inhabited a small hut on a hill overrun with chickens and a bleating goat. Despite their peasant-like home, they both ate well, wore fine robes, and slept upon soft mattresses. Herpo was known throughout the village as an accomplished wizard, healer, and experimenter, and through his treatments to magic and non-magic people alike he earned a good deal of money.
Herpo also took it upon himself to educate Ambrose. He taught him from a young age his letters, his magic, but most importantly how to think. The wizard stressed the connection between a strong mind and strong magic, and once pleased with Ambrose's aptitude even fashioned him a wand for use during their lessons.
But despite relying upon him for much of what they needed, the villagers were suspicious of Herpo. Many didn't like him, calling him 'Herpo the Foul' behind closed doors. He acted arrogant of his own abilities and appeared to think he knew better than everyone around him. And although Herpo gave Ambrose anything he wanted, the old wizard spared him no tenderness. The villagers saw this as the worst travesty of all, for Ambrose was charming and kind and deserving of a more agreeable master.
But Fate could not be ignored. Ambrose had wound up under Herpo's care, and there was nothing to be done in the face of the will of the Gods.
/
"Now, tell me: what is the difference between this rock and you?" Herpo asked, holding a pebble out in his palm for Ambrose to inspect.
"Not much, I imagine," Ambrose quietly replied.
They stood inside the hut at the wizard's worktable, a cauldron bubbling away just beside them. Small woven baskets sat underneath the table while dried herbs and flowers hung from the wooden beams overhead. Scrolls of parchment were stacked on every low surface, and every high beam and ledge was covered in vials stuffed with potions ingredients.
"No - not much," agreed Herpo, his white moustache twitching slightly. "However, I insist you give me the most correct answer."
Ambrose sighed. "The rock has no soul."
"No - the rock has no soul, nor body. You have both." He pointed his wand at one of the woven baskets and they both watched as a small animal rose out of it. "And this toad?" he asked. The toad flung its legs about, scrambling for purchase but finding none. For one sickening moment, Ambrose thought his master would send it into the cauldron. However, Herpo allowed it to rotate slowly in mid-air.
"The… the toad has a body, but no soul," Ambrose mumbled.
"Yes," agreed Herpo, lowering his wand.
The toad flopped onto the table, landing on its back and quickly righting itself. It tucked its legs under its body and flattened itself as though trying to hide. Ambrose felt sorry for the toad, which seemed to have had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Much like himself.
"What is the difference between the Gods and us?"
"We have an immortal soul, but a mortal body. They are entirely immortal."
"Yes," Herpo agreed again. "But perhaps-"
He was interrupted by a rapping at the threshold. A head poked in. "Apologies, Master Herpo," rasped an elderly woman, "but Alexandra has just broken her wrist. Would you mind-"
"Yes, yes." Ambrose knew Herpo felt irritated by Demeter, the woman requesting his help, and wanted to be rid of her as quickly as possible. He had already found a small vial filled with a purple solution. "I have just the thing, but it will be costly, unfortunately. I will administer it, as I wouldn't want anyone dropping it." By his last words, he had already left the hut.
Ambrose quickly scooped the toad into his hand and looked into its brown eyes, the horizontal black pupil ringed with gold staring back into Ambrose's. The amphibian's skin was a reddish-tan speckled by mossy green, and its throat flickered as though fearful.
The young wizard stepped out through the front door, making sure Herpo wasn't about, and quickly took the toad deep into the woods.
"Here," he said, kneeling upon the ground, "you're safe now." He placed the toad in front of him, at the roots of a laurel tree. "I wouldn't go back there if I were you. Herpo isn't very kind, especially to toads. He experiments on them quite a lot." He looked away and then back towards the small animal. "And, well - I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I think you do have a soul."
The toad stared blankly at the boy. It then clumsily crawled towards him, and hopped up Ambrose's tunic into his lap.
"No," Ambrose said, setting the toad so it was facing the opposite direction. "I don't have anything for you. You should get going." But the toad turned around, hopping towards Ambrose once more before placing its wide-set hands upon the boy's thigh, staring up at him. "I'm not allowed - Herpo might-"
But Ambrose couldn't ignore the look in the toad's eyes. He rolled his own, wondering where he had learned to be so soft-hearted. Certainly not from Herpo.
"Only if you promise not to croak," he sighed, gathering the toad into his hands. But really, he was pleased. No one had ever chosen him before. "You're a large toad - I think you're a female. You can be called Nephthys, which means 'lady of the house,' because that's what you'll be, isn't it? 'Neph' for short."
Ambrose smiled to himself before realizing he would need a way to conceal Neph. He placed her in the folds of his tunic, but when she slipped down he placed her on his shoulder. She balanced there quite happily, the lump in his tunic hidden by his black hair which he wore long.
It was almost nice to have this secret, he thought. To live under the watchful eye of Herpo felt constricting, and to have something Herpo didn't know - no matter how small - felt freeing.
/
"Neph!" he whispered. Ambrose crouched low next to a bush. "Where have you gone?" He peered into the leaves but, seeing nothing, got up and crossed the yard, walking towards an old shed.
Several chickens squawked underfoot and the goat, tied to a stake in the ground, stared up at Ambrose as he passed by. The boy opened the shed door, stepped inside and rummaged through it, then left and closed the door behind him. Finally, he found her sitting on top of a chicken's egg laid in an old wheelbarrow.
"Neph," he admonished, taking her into his hands, "this is the third time I've found you sitting on that egg! If Herpo finds you-"
He stopped when Neph croaked petulantly. And then from within the egg, which Ambrose now realized had begun to crack, came a faint hissing noise.
"Ambrose!" barked a voice from behind him, causing him to jump. It was Herpo. "Have you finished scrubbing out those cauldrons?"
"I-I will, Master Herpo," he said, quickly tucking Neph upon his shoulder. Herpo now stood beside him, and Ambrose's eyes upon the egg caused Herpo to also notice the hissing coming from inside it.
"Now," demanded the wizard, flicking his head towards the house. However, his eyes never shifted from the egg. His white eyebrows were furrowed in thought.
Ambrose turned away. He noticed as he walked towards the house that a trail of spiders had formed, crawling out from the shed and into the woods.
/
Weeks passed, and Ambrose could tell something was different about Herpo. The older wizard still brewed potions and wrote manuscripts, but spent much of his time away. He would leave the house early and return after nightfall, effectively abandoning Ambrose during the day. The boy enjoyed his newfound freedom, but it still worried him. What was preoccupying Herpo? It could be nothing good.
He had let Neph down to the ground as he busied himself making lunch. He laid out a flatbread upon the table, placed some feta and cucumber upon it, and drizzled it with olive oil. Ambrose took a bite before watching Neph hop joyously around the dirt floor.
The toad ribbited loudly, causing Ambrose to chuckle to himself until he heard a hiss issue from underneath the table. He jumped back, looking beneath it only to find a lidded woven basket. Whatever was making the hissing noise was just inside.
Ambrose bent down to inspect it, but he couldn't see through the tightly woven fibers. He tried prying open the lid, but it wouldn't move. Neph was now at his feet, croaking softly in response to the hissing that still emanated from the container.
There were footsteps outside. Ambrose quickly stood up, placing Neph upon his shoulder and sliding the basket back under the table with his foot. He took another bite of his flatbread.
Herpo entered, a sheen of sweat upon his forehead. "Demeter is dead," he explained casually, flicking his wand so a bundle of parchment flew into his arms. "She died last night in her sleep."
Ambrose was too shocked to reply, at the news and at Herpo's nonchalance. The wizard pointed his wand towards Ambrose, who reflexively stepped to the side. Herpo flicked his wand at the basket he had just been inspecting, causing it to hover then zoom past the boy.
He left as soon as he had come, trudging up the steep slopes and away from the village, towards the caves of Nysa.
/
"I have a question for you, Ambrose." It was evening. Herpo was settled in his chair before the coals of the dying fire, his face long and drawn, as Ambrose sat upon his bed pallet. This was when Ambrose liked him the least. By day he was a strict teacher, but by night and with a little wine he became a philosopher, which had always suited him less. "What did Plato think of the soul?"
Ambrose, who had been taught this subject ad nauseam by Herpo himself, knew his teacher was simply testing his power of recall. "Plato said the soul is immaterial and immortal. He believed once your body dies, the soul is free for a time before being trapped in another body."
"You are correct." Herpo's eyes were sharp, and Ambrose knew his teacher's philosophizing wasn't out of interest of what Ambrose thought. Herpo was leading him to something. "But what if you could choose the body your soul enters? What if you could take your soul and trap it in something else - in something undying - for safekeeping?"
Ambrose's head spun, not knowing where to start for fear of where this might lead. It was clear Herpo had already thought upon this subject - and perhaps done more than thought. "But... how could you trap your soul in something else while you are still living?" As always they were student and teacher, slipping into the Socratic method of asking questions to make each other think.
"It would not be the entire soul. It would be... a fragment."
"A fragment?" Ambrose questioned, the thought repulsive. "How could you make a fragment?"
Herpo leaned forward, his voice low as though he was telling a secret. "There is only one act that cleaves the soul."
To Ambrose, it was obvious - murder tore the soul in pieces. And to his horror, Herpo almost seemed… pleased. Ambrose was struck with an idea that only grew more powerful the more he thought about it. "Who have you…" he whispered. "Demeter." When Herpo didn't reply, he knew now the old woman hadn't died in her sleep. Ambrose looked at Herpo and saw a man who had gone too far in his dark experiments, and became afraid for himself. "If you have torn the soul from its other half - and from the body - you will have ruined it. Is the point not to keep the soul perfect?"
"The point is to keep it at all costs!" the wizard hissed. "My theory is the other part of my soul, upon my death, would wish to become whole again. It would wish to rejoin its brother wherever it lies."
Ambrose was in shock. He could feel Neph resettling anxiously on his shoulder. He watched Herpo unconsciously stroke his Arachne amulet and suddenly realized if he had trapped his soul somewhere, it would be somewhere close to him - something he would never lose...
"Now, I am near the end of my life," explained Herpo gently, which made Ambrose all the more afraid. "I am an accomplished wizard. But there is so much more to do that I couldn't bear to leave." Ambrose's heart thumped in his ears. "My soul will need a body. I can show you the exact potion required, can give you all the ingredients. But I need you to swear… to make an Unbreakable Vow. I must know you would do this for me."
Ambrose shook his head. "No - I could never-"
Herpo immediately became frustrated. "Why else do you think the Gods would have left you to me all those years ago? I needed an accomplished wizard to fulfill these plans, which are years in the making. A wizard I can trust, capable of performing the required spells. One I taught myself."
"Never," said Ambrose, standing up. He picked up his goatskin blanket and backed away towards the doorway. "It's... unthinkable."
"Ambrose!" shouted Herpo, but the boy had already left.
He quickly made his way up the hill, pushing through his shortness of breath. He scrambled over loose rocks and darted into the first cave he found. But he knew it wouldn't matter if he tried to hide - Herpo could find him if he wanted to. In fact, it was terrifying to think how much power Herpo could wield. He could make him do anything, then erase his memory of it. He could torture him, even kill him. Magic could be terrifying. And Ambrose knew now why Herpo, though capable of cruelty, had never been especially harsh to him before. He needed Ambrose to want to do this for him. He couldn't force him into an Unbreakable Vow.
After some time, Ambrose curled up on the floor of the cave. He pulled his goatskin blanket over him - the same one he had been found wrapped in as a baby - and Neph snuggled into his chest, enjoying the damp warmth of Ambrose's exhalation. It took Ambrose a long time to fall asleep.
/
When Ambrose woke up, he could tell he was not alone. He sat up and recoiled when he saw Herpo standing beside him.
"I cannot force you to take the Unbreakable Vow," the wizard hissed, "but perhaps you can be made to change your mind." Ambrose looked up, horrified. "Do you remember the story of Medusa and Perseus?" he continued quietly. "Of the Gorgon that could turn man into stone? Within these caves is a different kind of Medusa." He swung his gnarled wand, casting a red light between him and Ambrose which stretched from floor to ceiling, blocking Ambrose's exit. "No man can pass through these protections," he warned. "I will wait here until you decide to do what is right."
And then he hissed a low word in a language Ambrose didn't understand. However, Ambrose knew what it was. Among Herpo's many Dark talents was his ability to talk to snakes. Ambrose was truly alarmed.
"The Gods will not look kindly upon you!" Ambrose exclaimed as a last resort.
"The Gods?" scoffed Herpo. "Lecherous Zeus, bibulous Dionysus, choleric Aries? While their bodies may be immortal, their souls are that of men - wretched and intemperate, the lot. You should have learned that by now." His eyes were murderous. "I am a great-great-grandson of Arachne and even wise Athena couldn't believe a mortal to be the better weaver. Even she was overtaken by hubris. The Gods will not look kindly upon me?" he mocked. "Do not forget who you are, Ambrose. You are an orphan. You were alone in the world, abandoned and unwanted, until I found you. Do not forget who you are."
Ambrose hung his head as though physically wounded by the words. Behind him came the slithering sound of scales upon dirt. Medusa, thought Ambrose, and he forced himself to not look at the animal.
He knew his time was short. He thought of his wand, held captive by Herpo when not taking his lessons, and felt defenseless.
"Neph," he whispered, standing up and shooing her away, "you get out. You heard what he said - no man can pass through - but you can." But Neph looked up at him with those blank eyes, and he knew there was nothing he could say to make her leave.
He heard a loud hiss and, as Ambrose had nothing beside his blanket, he held it out in front of him in defense. At least the snake could strike it instead of him while he tried figuring a way out.
He felt it strike once, then again, like a battering ram. Ambrose stepped backwards, his arms shaking in fear, and he found himself against the cave wall. Without any warning the fabric transformed into a metal shield. Ambrose, shocked, knew it wasn't from his own magic, and didn't expect it to have been Herpo's doing. The Aegis, he thought, knowing from the inverted Gorgon's face upon the back that he was holding the shield of legend. But where had it come from?
The shield was heavy and awkward, and as the serpent struck again, Ambrose didn't know how much longer he could fend it off. Neph, who had been underfoot, hopped forward and out of sight.
"Neph!" Ambrose cried, terrified the snake would hurt her. He listened to her croak, and the sound of slithering abruptly stopped. A soft hiss issued from the snake, and the frog ribbited in return. It seemed like they were having a gentle conversation.
Ambrose thought back to when he had heard those noises before. This snake must have been what Herpo had hidden in the basket, and possibly - probably - what had hatched out of the egg… the egg Neph had sat upon. Did that mean… Neph was this serpent's mother?
The serpent began to slither again and Ambrose kept his shield raised. However, the animal passed by him and crossed the spell's barrier. He could hear Herpo speaking quickly in Parseltongue, the pitch of his voice raised in fear. Ambrose peeked at the monster now that it was facing away and placed the heavy Aegis upon the ground before him. The serpent's scales were bright green, and it was nearly five feet long, bigger than any native snake. Ambrose could imagine that although it was already large, it would almost surely continue to grow. He noticed Neph was clinging onto the back of the snake as it glided towards Herpo.
Herpo's eyes were upon the ground as he sent spell after spell towards the Basilisk, speaking to it frantically. But the serpent no longer obeyed him.
The spider amulet with the Horcrux inside sensed the Basilisk's approach, and reacted to prevent its own destruction. It lifted from Herpo's chest and flew over his shoulder, but was held fast around his neck by the metal chain. Herpo made terrible noises as his own amulet began to strangle him. Ambrose looked away just as the serpent poised to strike.
Ambrose stepped back in surprise as he realized a woman had materialised within the cave. But she was no ordinary woman. She looked calm, wise, and strong, exactly as Ambrose had always envisioned her. It was the goddess Athena.
"You seem surprised to see me, Ambrose, but you should not be," she said calmly. "Do you think the Gods would take kindly to someone who has perverted their own nature? It is for us alone to know the pain of immortality," she explained, her eyes dark and heavy. "Herpo forgot who he was. He was a man. He was mortal. And you," she said, causing him a moment of fear, "have performed your part admirably. It was I who sent you with the Aegis in its goatskin form, knowing it would transform to save you in your moment of need."
"But why did you leave me here?" he asked, his voice small.
"Herpo could not be allowed to split his soul. Someone pure of heart had to stop him, and that was you, Ambrose. Now, I ask that you take what he taught you and travel far, bring magic to the people, and make them know the Gods once more. Now, go - the Basilisk will not harm you. There is nothing left for you in Nysa."
Ambrose turned to the red barrier which prevented him leaving the cave. Herpo was upon the ground, the amulet limp upon his chest, his robes bloodied. The Basilisk was gone, and Neph watched from beside Herpo.
"No man can pass through," Athena explained, "but you are no man - you are my son. You can cross." And Ambrose, his heart swelling with emotion, stepped through the barrier. As he did, the spell flickered and died with its caster.
When Ambrose looked back, she was gone.
He was free.
/
End A/N: This story was definitely the hardest for me to plan and write so far. I initially suffered from writer's block and a complete lack of inspiration. It didn't help that I knew very little about the Ancient Greek myths and had to look up quite a lot of things in the prompts list, as well as do a bit of research regarding different Greek myths, the Ancient Greek concept of the soul, etc.
But after a while, things became a bit clearer. I was inspired by the idea of the invention of Horcruxes and the basilisk (both in canon attributed as Herpo's invention), and the irony that one could destroy the other. I was definitely inspired by the old Grimm's fairy tales as well, where the hero (often an orphan in the care of someone who is not so nice) is kind to an animal (whether it's ants or ducks or, in this case, toads) only to be rewarded when they are in trouble and need help from the very animal they spared! I do love some good poetic justice. And, of course, I was inspired by the fact that wizards and toads seem to have some sort of bond that has transcended centuries, and even today is on the Hogwarts acceptable pet list - despite their apparent uselessness when compared to a cat or an owl. I would like to think that Neville and Trevor would have had a similar bond to Ambrose and Neph, and if Neville's life had been at risk, Trevor would have done what he could to be there for his friend.
I do apologize for the story ending so abruptly, but I was only allowed 3,800 words! I could have written a bit more about Ambrose (whose name means, ironically, "immortal"), but I didn't want to push my luck.
Also, I know that it's unlikely reptiles would be able to recognize their mother, but, hell, I've just written an HP fanfiction set in Ancient Greece where one of the heros is an OC toad - I think anything can happen!