I don't think this chapter was some of my best writing, but hopefully you'll still enjoy.
Word of warning: it could be quite a while until my next chapter. Currently incredibly busy, and going on holiday next week. And missing the first episode of next series of Doctor Who. Which is very annoying. Still, can't wait!
The TARDIS materialized on a different planet; a world of diamond, clear crystal, several weeks before the Doctor would first visit the place. However, that Time Lord still lead the expedition out of the blue box; a mismatched group of Amy Pond, Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody.
The expedition looked distinctly out of place. The ever-eccentric Doctor, accompanied by the curious, looking-around Amy, both followed by three wizards/witches. Sirius seemed quietly awed, McGonagall strode imperiously forwards, earning a few strange looks for her pointed hat and robes, while Moody walked, intimidating, presence enough to convince people to look away.
The Time Lord led the way, through the resort.
The walls were curved metal; no windows at all, due to the lethal sunlight outside. Instead, plates of luminous metal were embedded in the walls; the only source of light.
Every now and again, there were signs; pointing the way to a variety of things. Sunbathing, that way. Zero-G restaurant, that way. Rooms, that way, and Crusader Bus tours, that way.
Grinning, the Doctor headed for the bus tour bookings.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for; but he would hopefully find out. Whatever the Voice was, it was new, unknown. Living only here. Even the slightest bit of information would be worth the journey; and where else could he get that information?
"Five tickets please," the Doctor bobbed into view of the ticket dispenser.
A word of text appeared on the automated machine: SPECIFY.
"Um, four adults," he glanced back at the magicians and Amy, "And one senior."
Surreptitiously, he buzzed the sonic just next to the dispenser. Click; it accepted the 'payment'. A moment later, and five slips of metal fell out.
The Doctor stepped away from the machine, giving out the four 'adult' tickets to the others. He led them further into the complex, towards the bus.
Several minutes later, the Crusader bus departed. Only the five were on it; in addition to the stewardess, and the two drivers in the forwards compartment. A buzz of the sonic screwdriver later, and the obnoxious entertainment system was paralyzed.
McGonagall sat beside Moody, on the right of the bus. Amy and the Doctor sat a row in front, and Sirius sat on the other side, purposefully keeping his distance from the others. The stewardess, a woman very similar to the one the Doctor had seen before, stood at the front of the vehicle.
Thinking quickly, the Doctor buzzed the sonic once more. For a few seconds, the Crusader bus rumbled, distinctly unhealthy.
"One moment," the stewardess spoke. She darted through the automatic doors, to the driver cabin.
One buzz from the sonic more, a green flash directed at the front.
"Right," the Time Lord stood up, turning around and clapping his hands together, "They're locked in there now, nothing suspicious at all. We can talk."
"About time," Sirius's arm fell, moderately roughly, to the arm of his chair. "What are we meant to be doing here, other than wasting time?"
Moody's magical eye swivelled, focusing on the wall of the bus; he furrowed is brow, focusing.
"We're on another planet," he grunted, gaze penetrating the wall of the bus.
"Well, yeah, I did say," the Doctor said, offhandedly.
Upon hearing it from Moody however, the teachers reacted. McGonagall raised her eyebrows, impressed, surprised, awed even. Sirius merely hesitated; yet that hesitation was prolonged by the newness of the situation.
Few humans in their era ever set foot on something outside Earth's atmosphere; none yet had left the Solar System. And yet now, here they were, on an impossible world, impossible distances away.
"See anything out there, Mad-Eye," Sirius muttered, impatient.
The auror focused on the wall, thinking. Several seconds ticked past.
"Nothing," a frown, "Just lots of crystal. Not all that interesting," he shuffled until he faced the Doctor, "I thought we were to find a creature?"
"Well, I dunno," the Doctor shrugged, "The bus did take a different route last time. Besides, I can't predict everything. Just most things."
A few quiet moments. Muffled mutterings could be heard, as the stewardess struggled with the jammed door.
Sighing, Sirius got to his feet. "I've had enough of this," he muttered, striding straight up to the emergency exit.
"No, wait!" the Doctor stumbled to his feet; "The sunlight here, it's deadly," a frown, "Some kind of tonic."
"Well I'll be careful," Sirius rolled his eyes; impatient, irritated at being cooped up.
Without another word, the wizard lifted his wand, slapped the door open, and stepped outside. Whatever incantation he spoke was lost with the sudden whoosh of decompression.
The door slid shut.
The Doctor's outstretched arm slumped somewhat, reaching out vainly for the lost ex-prisoner. The Time Lord stared, disbelieving, at the now-shut door.
Silence.
"He's fine," Moody muttered gruffly.
The Doctor span around suddenly; eyes wide. Then, an instant later, as if to prove Moody's point, there was a knock on the outside of the bus. The Doctor winced; "Not again," he rolled his eyes, comically despairing.
Several minutes later, and all the witches and wizards had left the bus, leaving it to trundle along the diamond surface, oblivious to its sudden lack of passengers.
Protego was the first word ever spoken on the surface of Midnight. Sirius kept the shield charm pointed upwards, filtering out any of the harmful rays. Amy stood by his side; just in front of McGonagall, Moody, and the Doctor, protected by shield charms of their own.
The Doctor was definitely enjoying himself; he skipped along the clear, perfect diamond, relishing the uniqueness of the experience. Clink; a whole orchestra of notes as they strode across melodic land.
"Doctor," a sudden call; from Amy.
"Doctor," McGonagall also called, before the Doctor could turn.
"What is it, Pond?" the Time Lord span around on the spot, remaining under Sirius's makeshift umbrella of magic.
Nothing appeared amiss; Amy and Moody stood with Minerva McGonagall; yet the latter was not moving. And then she spoke, voice dragging.
"What is it Pond." She spoke in a monotone, missing the levity which had been in the Doctor's speech.
"No, no, no, no, no," the Doctor ran his hands back through his hair, darting closer to the Voice-possessed teacher.
No life stared out of those unblinking eyes. Involuntarily, the Time Lord shivered.
"Can-" Sirius began.
"Don't speak," the Doctor raised one hand, as if warding the wizard off, while simultaneously placing a finger over his lips, shushing.
The Voice echoed the words, forcing them from McGonagall's throat.
"Ok," the Doctor paused, tilting his head as he watched the witch. "Can you hear me? I don't know if you can, but please, listen. Think about what you're doing; it's pointless. Even if you put the harm aside, it's just staggeringly, well, stupid. We can't survive in the sunlight, like you can; sometime our protection is going to go. What then? Will you still be there, responsible for the waste of life? No species like that should ever evolve, not naturally at least; and it doesn't look like you've had much interference on this world."
The Time Lord panted a little after his speech; fully aware each and every word would be echoed back at him. Teaching the Voice yet more things.
We can't survive in the sunlight like you can.
Her voice was missing any of the tempo normally present in speech. It was somehow unsettling; uncannily close to natural words, yet just a little too far away. In consequence, all the words really achieved was to disturb the listener.
What then, will you still be there?
McGonagall shuddered; a surprisingly human gesture. In all his time of possession, Dumbledore had never made any movement like that.
Responsible for the-
Her voice cut off. Seconds later, she blinked, looking down at the clear ground, and up at the Doctor.
Free.
A ripple in the air. A blinding flash of light, reflected and refracted in the crystalline ground. Something fled from them; something. A creature powerful enough to wreck a Crusader bus, yet subtle enough to remain unseen for so long; and changeable enough to hide entirely within a person's mind.
The burst of light kept it concealed. The Voice of Midnight moved on, still unseen by any living eye.
"That was good," the Doctor grinned, looking around at the untouched world, safe beneath the shield charm.
"I don't see how," Moody grumbled
"We proved that it listens," the Doctor looked back at the auror
"Not much," grunt
"Not much?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "Moody, it's everything."
O
Rory Pond sat nervously in Dumbledore's Office. Several weeks into term; he was expected to stay in this place.
This year was the year of the tyrannical Umbridge, who seemed to take pleasure in coming after Dumbledore every chance she had. All Rory could do was retreat to this Office, to which she didn't know the password, and relax.
The only problem was the real Dumbledore; Voice possessed, and staring.
"Alright, you can look away," Rory mumbled, edgy under that insistent stare.
The Voice repeated his words; completely synchronized. Mr Pond shivered.
It seemed impossible. Yet that ominous Voice knew exactly what he would say, at the instant he said it. How did that happen? How could that happen?
"Get out of my head," Rory muttered suddenly; a snap, angry.
Get out of my head.
Snide, Dumbledore's stolen eyes glared. Mocking.
"Stop it!" Rory found himself raising his voice; a gesture not at all mimicked by the condescending, mild speech of the Voice. Stop it. Voices synced up; yet the tones were so different, it was hard to confuse them.
"Stop!" Rory slammed a hand on the desk; frustration overloading.
Was that…a smile curling Dumbledore's lips, as the Voice echoed? Or was it is imagination?
That split second of distraction was enough. Rory closed his eyes, rubbing them, running his hands back through his hair. The traces of anger were still there; yet he found he could ignore them, even if the urges lingered, unresolved. Tempting. Urging.
The Doctor had mentioned something like that; it could feed on your fears, on your worry, amplifying them. It had turned a group of ordinary humans into little more than a primitive mob; and as it left, they recovered.
"No," Rory mumbled, incoherent. The underlying murmurs of the Voice provided a pang of irritation.
Needing to leave the Voice's influence, Rory got to his feet, striding through the Office until he reached the gargoyle. The password had been changed to Fez, under the Doctor's insistence.
Breathing clearly once more, Rory wandered the corridors of Hogwarts. His thoughts occasionally drifted to the pitiful, possessed Dumbledore; and aside from a remnant of anger, a flicker of frustration at that perpetual echo, his mind had become more relaxed.
Not for the first time, the man who looked like Dumbledore wondered as to when the Doctor would return. Rory had distracted the inquisitive Umbridge with a hasty story about Dementors seen again in Little Whinging, successfully turning the hag pale. The tale wouldn't last for long though, Umbridge was always nagging him to explain the details.
A sigh escaped from Rory's elderly lips; you'd expect a time traveller to be more punctual.
And then a familiar wheezing, groaning met his ears. He looked up suddenly; grinning quickly, before running after the source of the noise. He passed a group of Slytherins, and stopped on the seventh floor, just by a door in the wall.
"Room of Requirement," the Doctor hopped out of the door, grinning. The rest of the expedition to Midnight followed; Amy, Moody, Sirius, and a shaken McGonagall.
"That's an easy place to leave her," the Time Lord looked fondly back at the TARDIS, waiting for everyone to leave before he pointed the sonic at the room.
"What now?" Amy rolled her eyes, sighing
"Making things easier for Harry, alter in the year," the Doctor shrugged, "He'll be making the DA in here, so I'm making sure the Room lets other people use it, even with the good old TARDIS in there. Might be a little overlap, but they'll survive."
O
Harry walked away from his latest Detention with Umbridge, cupping the back of one hand. The skin was red, from where cuts had repeatedly been inscribed, prickling.
"We need to talk," the words were muttered to the Boy Who Lived as Draco shuffled past; the Slytherin didn't stop, simply saying the words while carrying on.
Harry hesitated; before deciding to continue on, looping around to meet Draco. Evidently the blonde wanted to keep this meeting subtle.
A couple of minutes later, and Harry was walking down a parallel corridor, to a small alcove in which he'd spoken to Draco over the last few years. A statue of a Patronus, cast by the discoverer of the spell, arched over the passage; a dramatic piece of art to be sure.
Draco was sitting on the ripples of the formless spell. Speeding up somewhat, Harry ignored the proud wizard, and quickly sat just beside the Slytherin, on another carved fluctuation in the stone spell.
"Remember that woman, in the mask?" Draco's eyes darted around; haunted. His hand was buried in a pocket of his robe, fiddling with something.
"Yeah?" Harry said after a few seconds; tentative
"Well, she's back," Draco muttered, slapping his free hand down on the stone. "Made some kinda cult in a room on the Seventh floor."
"She," Harry cut himself off, frowning. "How'd you know?"
"Guess who she's recruited," Draco muttered bitterly.
It took a moment for Harry to react to the implications of that statement. The Boy Who Lived shot a shocked glance across at the Slytherin; before carefully speaking.
"Do you know why?" Tentative. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it; all he did know however, was how threatening the woman could be.
Two memories flashed in his mind. The first: Hogwarts, last year. The woman had impossibly appeared, for no reason other than to torture the black haired student. Crucio! Her high tones, relishing the excruciating curse, still made him shiver. And the second memory was in the graveyard; when Voldemort had returned. That same masked woman had appeared in a flash; stunned him, left him at the resurrected Dark Lord's non-existent mercy.
Harry shuddered at the thoughts.
"How am I meant to know?" the blonde said, still bitter, irritated, almost spitting the words out. "Kept approaching me last year. Now she's made this little club. Didn't say why; just laying down rules. Obey her. Come when she calls. Classic stuff. Didn't ask what the punishment would be; with her, I didn't want to know."
