Through the Looking Glass Veil
"Good smelling, Lupin and um…good bargain hunting, Severus?" said Harry awkwardly. "Now, that we've found the veil, we're sure to bring back Sirius!"
The group gave a small "hurrah!", and there was much rejoicing. Draco, who really didn't give a shit, shrugged his elegant shoulders and primped in his hand-held mirror.
It was a large group, as they were unsure what they would find on the other side. There, gathered Harry and Draco, Lupin and Snape, the Weasley Beater Gang, Gandalf and Aslan the Lion, Neville (for obvious fluffing reasons), and Blaise.
Hermione stood at the head of the group. Her wand at the ready, she raised her left hand to pull aside the veil. It fluttered in the non-existent wind. She jerked her hand back in surprise as the sound of whispering voices carried toward them on whatever was causing the veil to move. With a deep breath, Hermione stepped forward and led the group through the veil.
Darkness greeted her vision, and the whispering grew louder. She walked toward the sound which was becoming more distinct. Finally, she could discern what was being said.
"What's the answer to the third essay question, Phil?"
"Shut it. You're going to get me in trouble."
Where were those voices coming from?
Dim lights materialized out of nowhere, and Hermione and the others found themselves in a large hall. The floors gleamed in the light glowing from the sconces mounted on the walls. In front of them was a raised platform, spewing fire intermittently into the air. A resounding voice rang out.
"WHO DARES TRESPASS UPON THE TURF OF THE CLIFF GODS?"
The flames flared again.
"We do," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously."
"SILENCE! " Roared the voice of the Cliff Gods. "AND PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE FIRST YEAR PHILOSOPHY CLASS BEHIND THE CURTAIN!"
"What curtain?" asked Hermione, peering into some of the darker shadows around them, spying some draped fabric, casually labeled, 'THIS IS NOT A CURTAIN.'
"Oh! That curtain." She pulled back the curtain to reveal what appeared to be…a classroom? With a test in progress?
The students simultaneously stopped their writing to stare as one collective expression of surprise at Hermione.
"What the fuck?" asked Hermione.
The voice of the Cliff Gods sighed.
"SO NOW YOU KNOW THE SECRET OF PROPHECY. THIS IS WHERE ALL PROPHECIES ARE CREATED- IN THIS FIRST YEAR PHILOSOPHY CLASS. THEY BASICALLY WRITE PAPERS BULLSHITTING WHATEVER THEY JUST LEARNED AND POOF! SOME OF THEM END UP AS YOUR NEWEST PROPHECY."
The class continued staring, frozen, at Hermione.
"Quick!" muttered one of the students out of the corner of his mouth. "Somebody write something about how the curtain she thinks she's seeing is a metaphor for the Socratic Cave, and this is the world of Forms!"
"Idiot," said another student. "She's not going to believe that. She's staring right at us!"
"At the Form of us!" corrected the first student. He was abruptly silenced by the collision of a Philosophy 101 textbook with his head.
"I know!" said another student. "Let's write a paper about Harry as a Christ figure!"
Gandalf and Aslan cracked their knuckles threateningly.
"Don't I get a say in anything?" wailed Harry.
"Yes," said Draco. "You do. You can choose if you want to blow me now or later." He paused. "On second thought… Open your mouth."
Everyone looked politely away except for Neville who trotted forward inquisitively.
"Does anybody need a flu—" He was silenced as Snape clamped a hand over the boy's mouth and dragged him away.
"Ahem!"
Everybody turned at the sudden clearing of a throat. Seated at a desk at the front of the classroom, a woman in dress with sweeping bell sleeves looked up from her book in annoyance.
"Well," said the woman, "I suppose that concludes today's pop quiz. Students, quills down and pass your papers forward."
The class groaned and a few scribbled furiously, trying to get in a last word until their quills soared out of their hands and landed neatly in a pile on the woman's desk.
"Since our lesson has been so rudely interrupted," she glared at Hermione and the group cowering behind her and directed her attention back to her students, "I will cut class short today. However, I want to briefly remind you of our discussion last lesson about the misogyny inherent in the Tale of King Arthur. I hope you were paying attention because this will be the topic for your mid-term theses."
Timidly, a student raised his hand. "Ummm…Lady Morgana? Aren't we supposed to develop our
own thesis topics?"
"SHUT IT!" she bellowed. "I want eight inches." She paused, grinning suggestively. "I also want a six page essay by Friday. Class dismissed!"
The students collected their belongings, muttering miserably to one another and trooped out of the classroom, squeezing past Hermione and the others.
Lady Morgana returned her attention to Hermione. "Now, where is it that you are trying to be? Or did you want to take my lesson? I get so few female students."
"I'm sorry," Draco cut in, "did he say Lady Morgana? As in the Morgan Le Fay from the Tale of King Arthu—" Draco stopped short as the ground began to shake, and alarm bells started ringing.
"WARNING!" an official-sounding voice rang out. "WE HAVE REACHED MAXIMUM CAPACITY."
The ceiling overhead began swirling above them and deepened to a blood red color. Lightning and other universe shattering things crisscrossed the swirling vortex.
Trembling, Harry clung to Draco for support.
Trembling, Hermione wrapped her arms about herself for support.
"What in the name of Camelot is going on?!" cried Hermione.
Sweeping over to the group, Morgana bellowed over the alarm bells and announcements.
"The amount of crossover in this fan fiction has destabilized the multiverse!" she yelled over the cacophony of sound.
Morgana looked at the large group of characters from various fantasy universes before her.
"Some of your group have got to go."
Aslan hung his majestic mane, gave a ginormous Christ-figure-lion sigh and shrugged.
"I'll go," he declared. "Sacrifice is kind of my thing. I have to lead some children someplace anyway. Besides, wardrobes are really more my shtick. I like to sharpen my claws on the wood."
"You asshole!" cried Hermione, ignoring the dust falling into her hair from the shaking around them . "You did that to my wardrobe?! I thought it was Blaise that time when I locked him…er…never mind that. But did you have to chew my shoes too?!"
Lupin looked up guiltily as the universe gave another dimension-shattering lurch.
"Actually," he timidly interjected, "that was me." He looked away. "Sorry."
"I hate to interrupt this critical conversation," Snape dryly commented, "but might I suggest we address the issue at hand?"
He turned to Aslan, looking all-the-while like he would like to accompany the personified beast out of this universe and to the nearest pub and merely said, "thank you."
Aslan bowed his head and was gone.
Gandalf sighed and took a thoughtful pull on his pipe.
"I suppose self-sacrifice is rather my thing as well, isn't it?"
Lupin gave a sympathetic shrug, and Gandalf hurried to catch up with Aslan.
The shaking slowed to a stop, the soniferous voice quieted, the ceiling vortex vanished, and the alarms fell silent.
"So," Morgana turned calmly back to Hermione, "what brings you to the realm of the Cliff Gods? We do not get too many visitors."
"We need to get to the other side of the veil," stated Hermione simply. "Can you show us the way?"
"Of course I can," smiled Morgana with a glint in her eyes, "for the small and, I feel, reasonable price of a blood sacrifice."
"Done." Hermione did not bat an eye and simply whipped out the resurrection stone. She turned her back, fiddled, and POOF! There stood re-reanimated Ron Weasley.
Ron stumbled and attempted to grasp his new surroundings. But before he could mutter a single syllable, Hermione and Snape exchanged a quick glance of understanding. Like a flash of lightning, Snape drew his wand, crying, "SECTUM SEMPRA!"
Blood gushed from all of Ron's major cables, and the boy-who-complained-through-mouthfuls-of-food collapsed, dead once again, in a heap on the floor.
Morgana eyed Snape with a new appreciation and….lust?! She seemed to search for an appropriate response and eventually settled on, "Well done."
Effortlessly, Morgana conjured a ball of white, misty light in her outstretched hand.
"This way," she said, leading them down a series of tunnels and hallways.
They seemed to twist endlessly until, at last, they reached a dead end. There it stood, fluttering in the non-existent breeze.
"Now," spoke Morgana effortlessly gathering their undivided attention. Her voice was simply commanding. Even the Weasley Beater Gang stopped their various mischievous activities and listened carefully. "due to the damage caused by the universe overload of crossover characters, I can no longer be sure where the veil portal will come out in the other universe. It used to be on the grounds of Hogwarts, but now it could be anywhere. In the sky, a busy road, Azkaban, or even the middle of a stone wall. You have been warned. Do you wish to proceed?"
"Yes," answered Hermione confidently.
"Very well," intoned Morgana, "then I shall see you upon your return, if you return." And with that, she turned at walked away.
"Neville," commanded Hermione, "bring the torch closer. I want to examine the veil."
Neville waded to the front of the group toward Hermione. Hermione drew in a calming breath, staring at the fluttering fabric, and pushed Neville through.
"HEY!—" cried Neville with a splash.
"Sounds like the portal has moved near water," concluded Snape. "Bubblehead charms, everyone."
Casting their charms, the group made its way through to the other side of the veil.
