Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I own Umineko no naku koro ni or anything else in the When They Cry series. They are the property of J.K. Rowling and Ryukishi07, respectively. I also do not own The Elder Scrolls series, Neon Genesis Evangelion, the Blazblue series, Baccano, YouTube, Naruto, or TV Tropes. I used to own the former, but then I took an [REDACTED] in the knee…I wish.
Author's Note: While I certainly appreciate that several people have favorited this story or otherwise put it on alert, I am somewhat disappointed in the fact that only a couple of people have bothered to review it so far. Some input would be very nice, you know…if I received more reviews and got some constructive criticism, then I could use that to help make Sorcerer's Catbox better! Yeah, you know that little CSI gag I did back in Chapter 2? In all seriousness, listen to me on that! Please, don't be afraid to review this work, and don't be afraid to speak up when you see my mistakes. That is all I ask. (For now.)
Oh, and before I forget, if you have trouble thinking of the guy's voice near the end of the chapter, I imagined him as being either voiced by Tetsuya Kakihara doing his Jin voice (In a subbed version), or Jerry Jewell doing a less-accented version of his Claire Stanfield voice (In a dubbed version). So, there. Pick your poison, readers. And go to YouTube and look them up, if you haven't played or watched either series, respectively.
Eva Ushiromiya's House, Tanabata 1987
It had been over half a year since Ange had begun reliving her childhood with Eva, and each day made Ange more and more uncomfortable. Was Eva oba-san really this nice to me?, she contemplated. Over twelve years, their bitterness and dissatisfaction with one another had honestly clouded Ange's mind, and until these past few months in the kakera (fragment) Featherine had inserted her into, that irritable mood was all that Ange ever remembered seeing from her estranged guardian. Even taking a small break from "reading" and exiting to Featherine's territory did nothing to assuage the beleaguered miko's confusion on the matter. She drank a large portion of the tea in her cup, quenching her dry throat, yet still failing to calm her in any way. Featherine's gaze did not help in any way, either, having gone back to forming that unsettling smile of hers. "Is something the matter, my miko? Something tells me you suddenly paused the story for more than just a dry throat."
"It's nothing, Featherine. Just…thinking about things." Talking to someone like you about this would just be more trouble than it's worth, anyway, Ange silently added to her response, doing her best to school her features back to her usual façade of apathy.
"Very well, then. Please, continue further. I insist." Her face was still set in that damned smile that nearly made Ange shudder. When the teenage witch continued to read, she resumed the form of her childhood self, nearly ready to go to bed, before Eva came up to her, kneeling down and grabbing her by the shoulders before starting to speak.
"Ange, you don't need to act so…perfectly, for my sake," she said in the kindest yet firmest voice possible. This statement greatly confused the "child", who could only respond with a simple, "Huh?". At this, Eva looked her straight in the eye, causing her to break out into a sweat. "Don't play dumb with me. I know you're feeling compelled to act formally and politely whenever we're around other people. Is it because you think that's what my child George would've done?"
"I, um…" Now what do I do? I was just going through the motions Eva oba-san taught me, the first time we lived together! I can't explain it like that, she'll think I'm crazy…! What do I do, what do I do?, Ange panicked as she kept stuttering, a possible explanation for her behavior beyond her currently distressed thoughts.
"Listen to me, Ange," Eva continued, putting an immediate stop to her panicking. "We are connected because we are aunt and niece. But, we are also connected in that I have lost a child, and you have lost your parents. And we cannot trick each other into thinking of each other as replacements for our lost family. You're not George, Ange. You never will be. But even so, I think of you as my own child. So if you…could allow that, then I'd like you to think of me as your mother, and I want you to rely on me for whatever you need," Eva said, embracing Ange not unlike how she had months prior.
"Right now, we cannot forget the scars on our hearts, and together we have forgotten how to smile. However, I believe that this would surely sadden my child and your parents. …Wouldn't it be alright if we could remember how to smile, if only a little bit at a time? Of course, we can't do this right away. We have to remember our forgotten smiles bit by bit. That's why…I've decided that from today on, I'll try my best to practice smiling. Isn't that good? Now you don't have to act like George to try making me happy. Ange-chan, can you try to let yourself feel happiness, now? If you ever remember how to smile…please show me, too. I feel that if we do that, we'll be able remember how to smile even more."
Ange was overwhelmed by Eva's concern for her. She didn't even know how to respond to this rediscovered outpouring of kindness from someone who she solely remembered as a heartless and cruel witch, someone who had tormented her and belittled her on a near-daily basis, even on her deathbed. "I-I…y-you…I need to go to bed!" And so, the teenage girl in the body of her younger self ran away from her aunt once again. The aforementioned aunt sighed and put the palm of her right hand on her face.
"What would you do in this situation…George…Hideyoshi?"
Ange retreated to her own bedroom this time, knowing it would only irritate Featherine if the story had to come to a pause once more. Tears had formed in her eyes from sheer frustration, and in fact fell from her face as she spoke to no one in particular. "I don't understand. Why is she being so kind to me? How did our relationship become so…twisted?" She had been fully prepared to hate her aunt and be hated in return, but just now, and even in the past few months, she had been shown nothing but affection and understanding. Was I just too caught up in my own misery to see her this way?, she wondered. Her eyes clouded with tears as she once again thought aloud. "I DON'T KNOW! I don't know what to do anymore!" She went to bed, still weeping uncontrollably until she was deep in merciful slumber. Tied to her bedpost was a bamboo branch with a small piece of paper hanging from it; "I wish for my family to come home," was written on it. But that Tanabata tradition scarcely mattered to a girl too distraught to even remember to pray for her wish to come true before heading to bed…
Beatrice's Tea Room, July 1987
"Congratulations, Hari Potaa! (Cackle)," Harry's teacher greeted him as soon as he entered the tea room that had also served as his place of study for the past few months. He was…nonplussed by this sudden greeting, to say the least.
"W-What are you congratulating me for, Oshishou-sama?," he squeaked out as Beatrice opened her eyes and looked at him for the first time that day, the huge smile he had seen at first glance never leaving her face or diminishing.
"Don't you know what the occasion is? It's Tanabata, boyaa!," she responded to him matter-of-factly.
"T-Tanabata? What's that?"
"Haaah? People don't celebrate Tanabata in your country?" Her smile deflated as she said this, turning into a small frown as Harry nodded in affirmation. "Oh, how sad…I was hoping to grant a wish of yours, but I guess it's pointless if you didn't have one in mind…," she thought aloud, turning around and actually curling up into a ball as she hugged her knees to her chest and started making circles in the floor with the index finger of her free hand.
"Don't be so sad, Oshishou-sama! I-If you want, I can come up with a wish right now," Harry said as he patted her back in an attempt to reassure her. He thankfully did not see her face, which was secretly making that trademark Cheshire Cat grin, as if to say to herself, Hook, line, and sinker…
"Aaa~lright, boyaa… So, what kind of wish do you want me to grant?," the sneaky witch said as she turned around and stood tall once again, even going as far as to have a triumphant grin on her face. This sudden mood switch made even Harry, a six-year-old boy on the cusp of becoming seven, suspicious of her. He briefly gave her a hooded glance, before turning around and putting a hand on his chin, now deep in thought.
"Hmm… Would it be okay for me to finally see that game board you have Mr. Battler playing?" At this question, Beatrice seriously frowned.
"How many times have we gone over this, boya? You aren't ready to experience those games yet-"
"And when will I be ready?," Harry suddenly replied, startling her with his sudden forcefulness. "You said that you'd show me your game with Mr. Battler. But it's been months and I haven't even seen him, anywhere! And every time I've asked you about it, you've always told me, "You're not ready," or, "The game board is still being set up."
"I have done nothing but read through these mystery novels and the Ars Goetia this entire time, and you haven't even let me so much as glance at your game board. If I need to experience what Magic can really do, then I would need to do more than just read about it, right? You told me not to look away from your challenge. How can I do that if you won't let me look in the first place?," he finished his tirade as he turned around and regarded his teacher seriously. While he was still nowhere near as intimidating as he tried presenting himself as, his resolute wish still obviously got to his Teacher, as she turned around herself and sighed wearily.
"Haaaahhh…okay then, boya. I wanted another few months to prepare you, but it wouldn't hurt for you to have some practical experience. Aah, how frustrating~! Why couldn't you have asked for a simpler wish, like, "I wish for the Dursleys to all turn into pigs," or, "I wish for a pony,"?," Beatrice said as she furiously scratched at her hair with both hands. After a moment, she sighed once more and tidied her golden tresses back up to their original state, before turning to face Harry and resume talking, with her eyes closed.
"Now, I'm only going to ask you one more time. Are you sure this is the wish you want me to grant? This will be the most difficult trial you will face yet, but if you want to learn how a witch like me really uses her magic, then you will have to overcome it. What is your answer? Do not dawdle, my apprentice," Beatrice finished. The Golden Witch, eyes still closed in irritation, waited. And waited. And waited some more, before veins became visible in her forehead. "I told you to stop dawdling, boya! What's the matter-huh? Harry?," she said in confusion, opening her eyes to find that he had gone outside the Tea Room, presumably sometime during her speech.
Number 4 Privet Drive, July 1987
Harry was startled by the sudden opening of his cupboard-I mean, "room", as the Dursley patriarch gave his estranged nephew his trademark glare. "We're back, boy. Set up the table so we can eat dinner."
"Y-Yes, sir," Harry replied meekly in acquiescence to Vernon's command. I wasn't expecting them to come back so soon…How frustrating!, he said to himself, taking out the dishes and silverware. Done putting the plates and such on the table, he went to get the glasses and fill them with water, before suddenly pausing to look at the "souvenir" Dudley was gushing about. It was a fairly small green bottle, with several small, yet meticulously-folded pieces of paper inside it. "Hah! Take a look at Harry, Dad, Mum! He's so jealous of my awesome souvenir that he's speechless! I bet you wished you could go to the beach with us, too! Maybe you could've gotten a little souvenir of your own there…Not!," the immature little brat finished, with a haughty laugh that really showed off his pig-like snout.
"Now, now, Dudley, we still need to open that bottle up before you can keep it," Petunia chided him lightly as she took the bottle. The Dursleys' spoiled child simply crossed his arms and pouted, clearly unhappy; his nose made the expression on his face even more childish-looking and ridiculous. Before Harry could even let out a small chortle, Vernon smacked the back of his head.
"Oy, what do you think you're doing? Stop gawking at Dudley and get us some drinks!," Vernon demanded. Harry sighed deeply, being smacked again for his trouble. He went to get the water, seeing Petunia deftly move past him to get the corkscrew. Once he put all of the drinks next to all of the plates, he went to his seat, leaning his head on his right hand as he tried to surreptitiously observe Petunia opening the bottle and Dudley unfolding one of the pieces of paper.
"Huh? What is this supposed to be?," Dudley said to himself with a frown, as Harry raised an eyebrow. Vernon snatched the paper out of his son's hands, eyeing it for a few seconds. While that was going on, Harry leaned back a bit, trying his best to see the paper a little better. His eyes widened once he caught a glimpse of the title, before Vernon turned that characteristic shade of plum.
"This, again…? WHEN WILL THIS STUPID STORY GET AWAY FROM MY LIFE?," the Dursley patriarch exclaimed, tearing the paper to shreds in a fit of rage. Harry could only stare at the bits of paper as they fell, his face scrunching up in indignant fury before he carefully schooled his expression back to its meek and helpless-looking façade. He took the rest of those papers from the bottle, tore them to pieces as well, then took the shreds to the sink, took a lighter out from his pocket, and promptly set them all on fire. Dudley, confused at this display of anger, started sobbing as he realized his "souvenir" was getting destroyed in front of him. This managed to break Vernon out of his rage, as he patted Dudley on the back and tried placating him with offers of toys and candy tomorrow.
Vernon grimaced as he turned his head to face Harry, probably somehow seeing him as the cause of his son's anguish, even though he was the one who actually destroyed those papers! Harry broke out into a cold sweat at the prejudiced man's intense glare, before said man opened his mouth to speak. "Go back to your cupboard now, boy."
"But, I-"
"Go-cupboard-stay-no meals," Vernon said succinctly, his face beginning to redden once more. The Sorcerer-in-training wisely decided to leave before the man blew up a second time. Once he closed the door to his room, he punched his pillow with all the force of a small child.
"Ggghh. Damn it," Harry whispered to himself, before biting his thumbnail in frustration. In addition to his training in Magic and Mystery, he had also adopted a few of his teacher's…less savory, expressions, over the past few months. I was so close…why did he have to overreact like that?, he asked himself. Stupid Vernon, ruining my wish like that…! I'll never be able to see that game board, now! Harry would have paced across the space of his cupboard, if he actually had that much space to spare. "Now what do I do…?," he thought aloud.
What would Oshishou-sama do in this kind of situation? She'd probably use her Endless magic to revive those papers. I don't have her magic, though…wait…Harry paused mid-monologue, as he recalled what happened before the first time he and Beatrice met. That's right…that china plate got un-broken when I reached for it. Could I do that on purpose with the papers, this time? But how do I get to that ash pile with everyone still in the kitchen? Harry's eyes briefly turned to the small pile of books in the corner, and widened as they fell upon the Ars Goetia. He quickly reached for it with his hands, and furiously flipped to one of the pages he had dog-eared himself. Rereading the page for a moment, he grinned, and began his evocation…
Beatrice's Tea Room, once again…
The comfort of the leather seat did not do much to assuage Beatrice's impatience, as she sat in a regal kind of slouch. Her right leg was bent close to the chair, while her left leg was extended away from the chair as a sort of counter-balance. She kept her right hand close to her mouth, almost as though she was attempting to adopt the classic hand-steepling pose popularized by Gendo Ikari, but with only one hand; although this concealed her facial expression, her mood could still be easily read through her left hand, which was currently drumming its fingers repeatedly on the armrest in a wave-like pattern. "…How boring," she muttered to herself. "When is that kid gonna return, already…?"
Wanting to do something, anything other than just sitting around and waiting, she snapped her fingers and held her hands out in front of her, wishing to take a closer look at the most recent project she had tasked her student with. In her left hand, there appeared some type of brass vessel, with magical symbols drawn over it in a red paint that oddly resembled blood. In her right hand, a similar vessel appeared, but it was made of clay instead of brass, and the same magical symbols that adorned the brass vessel were instead directly carved into the clay. Beatrice then proceeded to carefully examine both vessels, looking at their size, shape, and quality of the symbols.
"Hmm…the boy's work here isn't too shabby, but his hands definitely need to be steadier. The circles are a little too uneven," she commented as she looked over the clay and compared it to her own piece of brass. She continued inside her head, and thought, The circles and symbols really need that extra bit of precision, if Harry's seriously going to consider using clay for his real implement; brass is most certainly more effective in containment, but that can be accounted for if he learns how to magically reinforce the vessel… Satisfied with her assessment, Beatrice nodded to herself, before preparing to place both foci back in their storage.
Before she could whisk them away, the Golden Witch noticed a faint red glow coming from the markings on her vessel, a glow which, surprisingly enough, was mirrored by Harry's replica. It soon grew so bright, she had to close her eyes, and a shrill noise reverberated throughout the room, causing her to accidentally drop both containers when she tried to cover her ears. Thankfully, the vessels burst into golden butterflies upon hitting the ground, signifying their return to the space from whence they came. The noise died down soon afterwards, and Beatrice could now hear her student's voice across from where she was sitting.
"Wow, that worked pretty well! I can see why Oshishou-sama has such faith in your abilities, Miss-"
"-Just call me Gaap, kiddo. "Miss" makes me feel kinda old, ya know?"
Beatrice, stunned at hearing her friend's voice for the first time in ages, opened her eyes and got a good look at Gaap's signature outfit, a ludicrously risqué red dress with openings on the sides that would have exposed her underwear, if she ever bothered to wear any. She then noticed the stripperiffic she-devil making confident strides towards her, her hot pink high-heeled shoes making loud, crisp clacks with every step. "What's wrong, 'Riiche? Cat got your tongue?," Gaap asked. "Honestly, you never call, you never write - I didn't even hear about your cute new apprentice until he called me!," she boldly continued in light-hearted jest, although Harry was blushing mildly at the "cute" comment.
"W-What? I never summoned you today," Beatrice answered. After all, Gaap wouldn't factor in her plans for Battler for at least another two games, and there wouldn't be any sense in summoning her anywhere near those magic-retardant relatives of Harry's…unless…
"Are you telling me that Harry summoned you entirely on his own?," she asked Gaap, trying and failing to mask even a hint of her incredulity at the boy's potential.
"I-I'm sorry, Oshishou-sama, but my uncle locked me in my room, and I didn't know any other way of getting your present back from the sink, so I at least wanted to try to-"
"Hold on a second, boya. I never said you were in trouble for summoning my friend, I was just surprised. You didn't even construct a real vessel to contain your furniture with, so I wasn't expecting anything of this nature for at least another year! Really, summoning my friend is an accomplishment worthy of my praise," Beatrice said to her frantically-backpedaling apprentice, doing her best to dissuade him of his misplaced sense of guilt. She continued her speech after she saw that Harry no longer saw himself as having done something wrong. "Now then, what present were you talking about, and why was it in the sink?" In response, Harry simply drew her attention to the pile of ashes that had appeared alongside himself and Gaap. At her raised eyebrow, he began to elaborate.
"Well, you granted my wish and decided to let me see one of your games with Mr. Battler, right before my uncle called me back, yeah? But the thing is, your game board was with Dudley, and then when Uncle Vernon saw the game, he got real mad and tried to destroy it! This was all that Gaap could get back, aside from the bottle that the game board was in…," Harry explained. However, Beatrice's puzzled expression remained on her face, before she turned around and quietly deliberated to herself.
Something's not right here. I was just planning on letting the boy watch what happened in the second game, but the bottles for Legend and Turn have both been found already in this fragment, and the preparations for the third game have hit a huge setback. What's going on…? She was broken from her contemplation by Gaap using one of her trademark gaps to casually get right in front of her face and startle her.
"There we go. Kid, are you sure this girl's 'Riiche? The 'Riiche I know wouldn't mope around like this all day~," Gaap asserted, using another gap to move into one of the seats closer to Harry. The lightning-scarred child himself was fixated on the ash pile, trying to will it to do something, yet failing miserably, presumably due to his impromptu summoning of a high-class demon such as Gaap.
"Gapugapugapu! Don't mess with me when I'm trying to think!," Beatrice replied, which made Harry look at her really strangely before the gap-using demon burst out into a fit of laughter.
"Hahahahahahahaha! Are you trying to sound like 'Lia? Man, you really need to lighten up nowadays," Gaap asserted, before using a small gap to get her hand behind the flustered Golden Witch and slap her back a few times. Knowing that responding to her friend's antics would get her nowhere, Beatrice just slapped the most forced smile imaginable, before turning to her apprentice and talking to him once again.
"So anyway, boya, how do you expect to observe my game board if it's a pile of ashes?," she inquired, hoping to eventually get him off of investigating this unknown element for now.
"Hey, 'Riiche, don't be like thaaat! It was just teasing, you don't have to give me the cold shoulder or-," is all Gaap could say before her friend snapped her fingers, giving her a literal cold shoulder. And cold hands. Cold everything, really; a statue made of ice is kind of expected to be cold like that. Beatrice then loudly clapped her hands, making the bold portal-using fashionista disperse into the usual gold butterflies, her forced grin still on her face for a moment before she let it go with a sigh of relief.
"Oshishou-sama, wasn't it kind of rude to dismiss your friend like that?," the young Sorcerer-in-training asked.
"Boya, Gaap is good for fashion advice, getting to places quickly, and pranks, but she's best taken…in small doses, if you know what I mean. Even I find her a little grating if I'm not in the right mood, and I get along with her much better than my Teacher ever did."
"Ehehe…I can see your point…," Harry conceded, scratching the back of his head. "Anyway, did you know that before I accidentally summoned you, my magic was able to fix a broken plate? I figured I could try doing the same thing, but with the papers that make up your game board!," he explained excitedly to Beatrice.
"Mm. That's all well and good, boya, but that pile of ashes seems like it has a lot more pieces to it than a simple broken plate. Are you sure you're up for the task? It took a lot out of me when I summoned my furniture for the first time. And, in any case, why would you need to fix that game board, when I could just show you a game board that Battler and I already went through, right here?," she retorted, snapping her fingers and materializing a past game board for added emphasis. Harry looked back and forth between the ash pile and the board Beatrice was already holding up. From what she could tell, it wasn't the simplest decision for him to make, which…wasn't what she was going for. Come ooon, kid, just take the easy way out! At least I won't have to worry so much about your safety in a game that's already ended…!
"Hmm…well…," Harry began.
"Yeee~s?"
"The game board you're holding up sounds tempting for me to look at right now, but…," Harry continued.
"Buuuut…"
"I figure, if I can just fix these papers and hide them from my family, I can look at them whenever I want, instead of having to come here just to look at that game board!," Harry finished.
Outwardly, Beatrice's expression was kept in a shit-eating grin that didn't seem as forced as the smile she put on when Gaap continued to annoy her. Inwardly, Beatrice's thoughts were best summed up in one phrase:
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU-
"So, can you help me fix this, Oshishou-sama?," Harry asked, giving his teacher a saccharine smile that nearly caused her actual physical pain.
"O-Of course I can, boya! I wouldn't be an Endless Witch if I couldn't restore some pieces of paper!," Beatrice nervously replied, knowing she had only one last gambit up her sleeve. The boya never mentioned what happened to that plate after he repaired it with his magic, but considering he's not an Endless Sorcerer just yet, it should've shattered some time later anyway. If I can teach him the Song of Remembrance, and get him to sing it instead of me, it'll crumble soon after, and I can just stick with showing him Turn like I was originally planning to do!
What she didn't know was that the accidental magic common to young wizards and witches in the Potterverse wasn't susceptible to the same rules as the When They Cry multiverse's metafictional magic; in fact, the gaudy china plate was still perfectly intact just as Harry fixed it. Of course, the Dursleys, having an intense fear and loathing of anything magical, instantly abhorred the newly-fixed plate, and it now sits hidden in some drawer, gathering dust, but I digress. What she also didn't know was that accidental magic could react unstably to metafictional magic if the caster doesn't have the energy to perform spells in the latter category, and considering Harry summoned one of the 72 demons in the Ars Goetia without even a proper vessel a few minutes beforehand, that goes without saying. And, as an extension to these two pieces of information, what Beatrice didn't know was that her final ploy would give Harry a challenge that not even Battler was ready for...
Beatrice's Tea Room...?
"Owww, my head...," Harry moaned, his eyes still adjusting to the abrupt transition of...locales? As his vision cleared, Harry looked around, and saw that he was still in the tea room, and hadn't even gone past the spot he was in. "Well, that didn't work... I guess I'll have to see the other game board, Oshishou-sama," he said. When he didn't get a reply, he turned around. "Oshishou-sama? Where-," the hapless apprentice was cut off by a familiar red-haired youth, holding him up by the lapels in a situation not unlike when they first met.
"Damn it...I had enough on my plate with all the antics from the last game, and I don't need you around screwing up my arguments even more, Potaa!," Battler exclaimed.
"What? What arguments? Why are you in Oshishou-sama's tea room? What's going on? AND MY LAST NAME'S POTTER, NOT POTAA! SAY IT RIGHT!," he answered the irate teenager, while trying to break free of his grip. Said teenager glared at him for another several seconds, before setting him down on one of the chairs, going back to his own seat, and drumming the fingers of his right hand on the corresponding armrest.
"Tch. I don't even have any more of that damn butler's tea or maybe those ass nee-chans to help me relax," Battler complained to no one.
"Butler? Ass nee-chans? Who are they?," Harry asked quizzically, which Battler initially responded to by giving him a look.
"You know, for someone who claims to be that Beato's apprentice, you don't seem to know who makes up her "furniture"," he bitterly explained to the child, including the use of the incredibly obnoxious-looking air-quotes when referring to his Teacher's furniture. "You can see them doing their damned tricks over there," Battler continued, pointing to the wall opposite the two of them.
Sure enough, to Harry's surprise, part of the wall, which he didn't noticed earlier due to his diminutive stature, seemed to have given way, to reveal what would have been an extraordinarily beautiful rose garden, if it hadn't been the dead of night, and a torrent of gigantic-looking raindrops wasn't pelting the vicinity. His attention was drawn to a patch of clear sky, revealing an elderly woman who looked like some sort of caretaker, looking up at the clouds. Strangely enough, even with the storm going on all around her, she didn't even look remotely wet. Suddenly, unfamiliar voices spoke up in argument, while the caretaker continued to look upwards, seemingly oblivious.
"Hey, hey, I found her, I found her, she's in the rose garden."
"Why's she standing around there without an umbrella?"
"I'm ready, all mine all mine all mi-ne! You blockheads can just sit there and watch!"
"I told you, nooooooo, this one's miiiiiiiiiiiiine!"
"Come on, if we take any longer, we'll be scolded by Beatrice-sama! Let's take care of it all at once!"
"Come on, found her, surrounded her! Come on, let's get along and do it all at once, okay? DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE!"
Faster than Harry could blink, seven stakes flew from somewhere outside of the view of the "screen", ready to pierce this woman's flesh in an instant. He was stunned at this display, not only because he recognized the shape of the stakes from Beatrice's little show against Battler during that disastrous tea party, but also because something protected the woman and completely repulsed all seven stakes. The seemingly-living stakes seemed to share some of Harry's confusion, as they all turned to human forms and looked at their would-be victim quizzically.
"...Eeh...? ...Huh?," the stake with the long brown pigtails exclaimed.
"Wh...what is...this...?," the forceful-looking one with the straight jet-black hair similarly stated.
"...Ho-ho-ho-hoh. What naughty girls. Could you be friends with that child...?," the caretaker finally spoke, talking to these ostensibly-dangerous demonic beings as though they were naught but rambunctious children.
"...What is this, ...you old hag...!," the bright-green-haired stake said in response.
"Th-There's got to be some kind of mistake! One more time!," the white-haired stake said in what seemed to be a mixture of outrage and anxiety. This time, instead of turning back into stakes and flying straight at her, the girls' outstretched right arms all ignited into some kind of glowing purple blades, which they quickly and furiously swung at the mysterious old lady. Once again, the same thing that protected her last time activated and easily blocked all of the girls' inhumanly fast attacks, before Harry noticed a glimpse of something...predatory...in the old lady's expression.
"W-Watch out!," he yelled at the screen, to no avail. Just a millisecond after his panicked warning, the invisible barrier expanded faster than the stake-girls could fly away. Ironically, the purple shield of energy completely dispelled their own violet loci, before lightly burning all of their bodies as it pushed them away.
"Why can she defend against us?," the stake with a large pair of drill-like curls exclaimed in confusion and a hint of fear.
"Move aside! One more time!," the one with long, straight hair that was light brown with a tinge of green, said, redeploying her energy sword. She was surprisingly determined, despite, or maybe even because of being one of the most badly burned of the seven.
"...No matter how often you try, it's useless. This person...is good," the stake with the black ponytail replied to her determined...colleague...sister? Harry didn't know. Out of all seven, she was the first to notice the prepared counterattack, and got off the lightest.
"...I am waiting for that person to arrive. Would you mind calling for her," the old woman called to the stake with the straight black hair, apparently the leader of the group.
The way she phrased that statement did not indicate that it was a request.
"D-Do you think we'd be apprenticed to you like that?," the stake responded, preparing her locus for another assault, before the familiar shape of Harry's Teacher appeared in front of both the leader of the stakes and the mysterious lady.
"There's no need," Beatrice said to both. Strangely enough, any mocking or teasing tone was absent, and from what Harry could see, Beatrice was even mildly frowning, for some reason. To her left, another person, presumably the butler that Battler spoke of, appeared after the stake in front of her exclaimed, "Beatrice-sama!," in shock.
"...It's enough to make me manifest myself," the butler stated. Like his master, Harry could see that this man was completely serious about the appearance of this lady.
"Ronove. It's been a long time. ...Yes, it truly has been a long time." Where had Harry heard the name "Ronove" before...? His eyes widened as he recalled one of the dog-eared pages on Beatrice's copy of the Goetia. The pages featuring Ronove were all clearly marked by her. How amazing must his Teacher be, if one of the demons from the Goetia is a friend, while the other is her personal butler...? Unfortunately, the seriousness of the situation on the screen left him no time to be amazed at these revelations, as one of the stakes and Ronove responded clearly to the woman.
"This person's talking to Ronove-sama without using "sama"...!," Pigtails said in amazement.
"I'm afraid Miss Asmodeus is correct, madam. It would be presuming too much to speak to one you are unfamiliar with without a certain degree of formality, and I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I do not know you."
"O-ho-ho-hoh. My, my. You wound me with your shoddy memory, child...!" Ronove gracefully bowed at her insult, before responding in kind.
"I only aim to do so, madam."
"Hmph. Anyway, it has also been a long time for you...hasn't it? Beatrice."
"S-She isn't even using "sama" for Beatrice-sama...!," Leader stated in astonishment.
At the exchange between Ronove and the old lady, Beatrice simply smoked her pipe. Golden Smoke blew out of the pipe and into the sky, and as it drifted through, the rain suddenly...stopped. The moon cast a beautiful and eerie light, and the beads of water that had gathered from the rain on top of the roses sparkled for a brief moment, like a garden of jewels. This sight did nothing to dissuade the tension of the scene laid out before Harry and Battler. In fact, Beatrice's eyes widened briefly at the woman's apparent disrespect, before narrowing dangerously. That was all covered up in the next second, as Beatrice seemed to force her mouth to curl upwards in a grim smile that didn't reach her eyes. In addition, her eyes themselves were willed to soften up slightly, before Beatrice finally spoke once more.
"Good. Do you know who this person is? ...Beatrice was originally this person's name. I only inherited that name from her." She smoked from her pipe again, giving Harry some time let those words stew over.
...Wait. Then that would mean that this person...
"...is my Shishou. The Predecessor, Lady Beatrice," the current Beatrice stated, unknowingly finishing Harry's statement for him.
The Predecessor..."...Lady Beatrice?," Harry and the Leader of the stakes simultaneously thought and said, respectively.
"...Or, that's what I would say, if Oshishou-sama wasn't already dead," Beatrice completed her explanation, much to the chagrin of everyone except for herself, Ronove, and the mysterious imposter.
"WHAT?," Both Harry and Leader exclaimed at this revelation. Of course, Battler, just being tired yet absolutely dumbfounded at all of what was going on, was content to massage his temples vigorously and say a simple, flat, "What."
At Beatrice's final statement, the imposter gave an uncomfortable, jaw-straining grin completely uncharacteristic of what the old woman had displayed so far. She held her right hand up to her face, with both eyes still uncovered by her fingers, and then began talking with the voice of a man. "Well, well. Whatever could have given me away? No one here knew your teacher or suspected anything besides you and the old man over there."
"Hah. Do you really think that I, the Golden Witch, would be so easy to fool? Even if I hadn't seen the battle itself with my own two eyes, or even heard of her death, my real Oshishou-sama would never attack my furniture like you did. "Furniture only serves its master. The master is responsible for all of her crimes." That's something she drilled into my head from the moment we even started talking about the possibility of me creating or obtaining furniture of my own.," she replied icily to the man who had tried to mimic her own deceased Teacher.
"Well then. I guess there's no point in keeping this old bag, now is there...?," The sneering man said remorselessly, before golden butterflies surrounded the form of the old lady. To everyone's surprise, even Beatrice's, the form that came out of the golden whirlwind was not a man, but rather, a beautiful young-looking lady. She wore a frilly yet elegant navy-blue hat, garnished with fresh-looking roses on the top, and set on her head at a bizarre angle, leaning to the right. A similarly-frilly choker adorned her neck; its main body's color matched that of the hat, and the buttons in the middle were made of gold, and polished, but not to the point of being too obtrusive.
Her elegant dress matched her hat and choker in most respects, simply missing the red roses decorating the hat. Instead, what complemented the ensemble was a golden-orange sash, worn nearly parallel to the angle of the lady's hat. Within the sash, an elongated version of the One-Winged Eagle seen in so much of the Ushiromiya family's attire was embroidered in white. Her long and ostensibly-well-cared-for hair was a vivid shade of silver, as opposed to the old lady's wizened and old-seeming shade of gray. Indeed, nothing about this woman indicated to Harry that she was the same as the old lady whose appearance the imposter had originally taken; in fact, he would be hard-pressed to find anything that physically indicated her true age.
This mysterious lady's beauty, however, was soon forgotten after what happened next. Her face, which had been permanently set in a pleased and patient-looking expression, her eyes permanently closed...changed, not drastically, but by enough to tell that this person was not quite who she seemed to be. Her eyes began to open slowly, in the space of multiple blinks. While they opened, the simple smile of hers began to widen...and widen...and widen further, into the sneering grin of the imposter. The expression now on her face seemed utterly wrong to Harry, and with every movement of the imposter's face, Beatrice's eyes narrowed, until they had closed and scrunched up. Once it was clear that the imposter was still in disguise, but as someone entirely different, Beatrice lost what little patience she had, her eyes opened up and glared at the "woman" with enough force to instantly vaporize any remaining golden butterflies behind "her," and she began to speak once more.
"You dare dishonor my Oshishou-sama by taking her form? Do not trifle with me, boy. By my right as Territory Lord of this fragment, if you do not do as I command and reveal to us your true identity, I will permanently exile you from this fragment, and take measures to destroy you, should you even attempt to return." The words Beatrice spoke flowed out of her person, and glowed a terrifying gold; they surrounded and moved to bind the person who apparently took the appearance of the Predecessor. The imposter watched the encircling sentence, and his uncomfortably wide grin grew even wider, until he burst out into peals of mocking laughter!
"You really seem to have caught me. Good job, Beatrice," He said, once he stopped laughing and caught his breath. He even clapped his hands a little in obvious derision. "That's fine. Staying here will make the task of killing you easier," he continued, before snapping his fingers and magically superimposing his true appearance over that of the witch formerly known as Beatrice.
His hair was the exact same shade of silver as the former Beatrice's, but shorter, and cut similarly to Hinata Hyuga's before the 3-year timeskip (Hey, I only said I probably wouldn't reference her again). The main piece in his ensemble was his royal blue overcoat, which he left unbuttoned to show his cotton-white vest and navy blue button-up shirt underneath. The second most noticeable thing about his outfit, however, was the ludicrously-tight-looking collar, with a rather large pin of the iconic Ushiromiya One-Winged Eagle adorning the left side of the collar, which, strangely enough, seemed to be in the exact same spot as the round decorative pin of Battler's outfit. Directly below the collar, but above the shirt and vest, was a white silk tie, with naught but a golden anchor sewn on, as decoration. He wore short shorts and leg warmers, strangely enough, with both being the exact same shade of navy blue as both his button-up shirt, and the dress of the Predecessor. Finally, he wore a pair of dark brown platform shoes, which was the only reason his face was at the same level as the face of the former Beatrice.
Perhaps the strangest thing about him, though, was his true face. It, much like the rest of his appearance, seemed ludicrously similar to the face of the woman whose form he had taken. Now, both his true face and the face of the witch he had apparently killed had settled from an uncomfortable grin to an unpleasantly-condescending smile. Truly, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that this man's face was completely untrustworthy, and that his smile was so fake that no one could possibly believe there was any real kindness or politeness in it. Seeing the gold lettering disappear from view, and noticing the abject shock in Beatrice's face, the man began to speak.
"I wasn't lying when I said it's been a long time, Beatrice, Ronove. But you weren't the only ones present at that fight, now were you...?," he said, the smirk on his face not having altered in the slightest.
"Y-You...You...," Beatrice still had no words ready for the man in front of her. Ronove was similarly speechless, as were Harry, the stakes, and even Battler, someone who apparently didn't believe in magic.
"Ah, yes. Your little butler over there whisked the two of you away before I could tell you my name, didn't you...? Well, allow me to introduce myself. I...am Publius Virgilius Maro. Please, allow me to guide you to your deaths," he said to his audience with a deep bow. When he came back up from that bow, his face was once again sporting that demented, uncomfortably-wide grin...
Beatrice's Tea Room, at the moment of Harry's "Reading"
"Okay, boya, do you remember how you fixed the plate?"
Her student scratched the back of his head, and replied, "Sorry, but I don't really remember. Uncle Vernon was about to hit me, so I wished for something, anything, to protect me. And, sure enough, when I reached for something, the plate was there, in one piece again."
Beatrice frowned at yet another mention of the abuse wrought by Harry's so-called "family," but continued anyway. "Well, something like that only works if you really need it to. Don't worry, though. I'll teach you some magic that can do the same thing." This time, it was Harry's turn to frown.
"Um, won't that only work for a little bit? The way you talked to me about it, only someone with your Com-Cumpen-"
"Compendium."
"Compendium, can fix something without having it break again, right?," he finished. This question caused Beatrice to scratch the back of her own head in embarrassment.
"Uh, yeah, th-that's right...," she stuttered in response. DAMN IT! I was hoping he'd forget that lesson for now...! The Golden Witch thought to herself a little more, before trying again to convince Harry to do this on his own. "W-Well! Aren't you being a little cheeky, boo~ya? Don't you want to learn my Compendium's magic? I'm telling you, learning this spell is rea~lly important to the Endless part of my magic!"
"But won't it still fall apart if I do the spell?"
"Not if I feed it some of my power while you recite the incantation."
Harry quietly thought about it for a moment, then said, "Well...okay. But if it falls apart anyway, you can do the spell for me, right?"
"Y-Yeah! Of course I'll restore the papers if this doesn't work!," Beatrice said, with fingers crossed behind her back. Of course, if I just swap out the ash pile with Turn, he'll have no way of knowing...Sorry, boya, but keeping you safe is more important to me than your Tanabata wish.
"Okay then, Oshishou-sama, are you ready? Just tell me what I need to say, and I'll repeat it!," Harry said, as he held his hands out towards the ash pile.
"Alright, boya. This spell is what I call, the Song of Remembrance. I can go into the details about how this spell works later, if you want to take a look at the game board as soon as the papers are repaired. Now just repeat after me:
"Come, come, try to remember. What form did you have?"
"Come, come, try to remember. What form did you have?," Harry recited, eyes looking between Beatrice, who was waving her golden pipe to and fro, and the ash pile, which was starting to glow.
"This is important, boya. After the first line you repeated, you have to compliment what you're trying to fix. You need to use words that could be used to describe what the thing originally looked like. Now, try repeating what I say next:
"I'm sure your letters made words of undeniable power."
"I'm sure your letters made words of undeniable power." Harry was astonished at the ash pile, which was starting to whiten into tiny bits of paper with one letter per piece. The letter-bits would combine into entire words worth, but the job still wasn't complete.
"I'm sure your words told the greatest stories of the land."
"I'm sure your words told the greatest stories of the land." Harry was astonished at the scattered words, which were coalescing into paragraphs and pages, getting closer to its true form, but still being a long way from fixed. Beatrice was similarly astonished, but it was for different reasons. After all, she lied about using her own power to fuel the spell. Waving her magical cane? Making the ash pile glow a little? That was over-embellishment of a simple light spell. The person actually fueling the spell was Harry, although he somehow couldn't tell. Perhaps he was so focused on making the game board whole that he didn't notice how much more tired he was seemingly getting? Beatrice shook her head at those thoughts. After all, even if this last chant worked, it would only work for a short while. Right...?
"And I'm sure the paper that holds you wouldn't be torn by anything."
"And I'm sure the paper that holds you wouldn't be torn by anything." All of the pages were once again intact by this point. They organized themselves into their stacks, then folded themselves in the same manner as they had been folded to all fit inside a single glass bottle.
If Beatrice hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it. As much as I hate to say it...this kid's potential...is pretty scary. Once again, she shook her head at these thoughts, and went over to Harry, whose breaths were completely ragged and whose sweat had gone cold. He was currently on his hands and knees in front of the papers, and Beatrice couldn't actually see his facial expression, but she guessed it would look almost as worn out as the rest of his body. She kneeled down, and asked, "Hey, boya. Are you okay?" She was then surprised once more when Harry showed her a grin sweet enough to make her teeth rot, although it was kind of ruined by the clammy, sweaty look of his face in general.
"J-Just give me a second to rest, and I'll be fine. I won't waste your present to me, Oshishou-sama," he said to her. Just to be sure he was okay, Beatrice stayed next to him a little longer. The papers didn't matter that much, anyway; Beatrice was sure they'd disintegrate by the time she looked at them again.
After a few minutes, when Harry breathed normally once more, Beatrice went back to observing the game board that he had reconstructed. Why hasn't it remembered its destruction yet? She knew from her Oshishou-sama's tutelage, that even in a space like the Tea Room, broken objects would remember that they were broken, anyway. Theoretically, the breakdown of the Song's effects should even be faster in the Tea Room, because unlike the "real world," where the destruction of an object would have to come from a plausible scenario that could cause the effect of its destruction in the first place, places without the Anti-Magic Toxin are not bound by that limitation, and can simply return objects to being broken because their being broken is treated as their natural state once the act of them breaking occurs.
Not even the slightest tap should be enough to keep the papers intact, after five whole minutes. Did I accidentally infuse my own power into the song, when I said the words first...? From turning the densely-packed groups of paper around in her hands, Beatrice could tell that they weren't liable to crumble any time soon. She finally unfolded one of the papers, curious to see what "game board" this could honestly be, and was surprised to realize that the pages were arranged entirely out of order. Then she blanched as soon as she realized that the handwriting and the words were hers after all. Wait. This is... No. I tossed this thing away. No one was ever supposed to find it... With a growing sense of horror, she sifted through page after page, and every idea, every little detail, was something she remembered writing, deliberating on, and switching out. She finally found the title page in the convoluted mess of papers, which only confirmed her fears.
"Oh, no," she couldn't help but think aloud. This drew Harry's attention, and he, noticing the papers, dutifully picked them up one by one, before standing up to talk to his teacher about his wish.
"W-What's wrong, Oshishou-sama? Did something in the spell go wrong?," Harry questioned.
"Well, yes, kind of, but-"
"I can still observe your game, right?," he asked. "I mean, listen to this cool part right here!"
"HARRY, WAIT-," is as far as she could go, before Harry began to recite the words in the top page he picked up.
"Ironically, the purple shield of energy completely dispelled their own violet lo-," is all the boy could say, before his body was instantly transported to the world of the game board. Once this happened, the very thing that Beatrice had wished to happen to the mysterious game board, came to be, and all of the papers, including the ones in her hand, quickly turned back to ashes. As the ashes slipped through her fingers, she kneeled down and stared listlessly at the remains in front of her, beginning to realize how much she had failed to protect her apprentice.
To be continued, in Chapter 4:
A Land of the Golden Witch