Note: New chapter! This one, like the rest of them, is un-beta'ed. I've sort of lost my plot outline for this fanfic, and am in the process of devising a new one. I've left this alone for so long I don't understand half of what I wrote, but hopefully this new plot track works.
She saw, once again, through different eyes. An older person. Wandering the halls. She found the person's thoughts running through hers as if they were her own.
Stealing into the night was easy, always easy, in Ombra. The castle halls were unwatched. There were corridors where one could hide for days, and halls were one could get lost for days, if they weren't careful. But someone with the knowledge could readily take advantage of these halls, use them to sneak unnoticed.
An abandoned classroom—the ever ideal spot for any late night rendezvous. Students have sated many frustrations in the hallowed rooms, whether using it for spell practice or other, more sinister pleasures.
It was one such night where the person's urges would be fulfilled. The plan was laid perfect. All that was needed now was the boy.
Impatient pacing was done across the dusty floor. Doubt that the plan would falter wasn't allowed to cross the mind. It will be successful.
A knock came, then. The door was eyed for a moment, then spelled open. The boy stood in the doorway, eyes wide orbs glistening in the near darkness. He was beautiful. The person always thought him a rare find.
And the magic that thrummed inside him—it was near intoxicating. He could easily make a mistake with this boy, but he had taken precautions not to.
It would be the first time this was ever done. The person was giddy with excitement.
The door was locked, and charmed to notify of any intruders.
Alone, in the room, with the boy.
A cloak was unfastened. The boy was disrobed.
Harry owed the healer one hundred fifty four privilege points. To say that he was devastated about this was an understatement, but he kept a sort of eerie quiet about it. Horologium had no choice but to pay the debt. With eighty three privilege points earned, they still had to pay seventy one points to clear their balance. But even after achieving that, they would be so far behind the other classes, and with exams coming up before the holidays, they feared it would be the end of their school life. By mid-October, they were dead last, at fifteenth place.
"This is absurd," Calvin huffed. They were in the common room, basking in the fireplace's heat. A cold had crept over Ombra that week. And everyone seemed less inclined to leave for any place not warmed by a fireplace or charm. All of them huddled in some sort of thick sweater or blanket. The chill didn't seem to go away despite the warm fire. "We'll be kicked off the school faster than Potter could get himself into another blunder."
Marie, who was scribbling with a quill and scroll on a table, glanced at them. "It's absurd, and backwards," she agreed. She wanted to voice out that Harry had no blame, but she couldn't, because they all knew Harry had been diagnosed with magical exhaustion, and that it really was all due to Harry. They all knew what she was talking about, but again, all kept still. She threw a sideways glance at Calvin, who regarded her silently.
They talked about the meeting Calvin had been to the week before. He thought that, with Marie being a pureblooded witch, the purists wouldn't have minded him sharing inside information, and he needed a different perspective of the way the purists in the school handled Dumbledore's threat.
"Isn't it a bit odd," she had said, "how witches and wizards as powerful as Ombra's professors and practitioners are scared of this threat from Dumbledore?"
Calvin nodded in agreement. Ombra was supposed to be secluded, laden with magics so old that the valley was near impenetrable. That the professors are openly expressing doubt over the security of the school bothered them. And the student body wasn't far behind. Everyone felt the tension brewing between the staff, but no one knew why.
"There must be a reason for their fear. It could be that Dumbledore is as powerful and cunning as a Wizard Lord is, but something else is making them wary." They had lapsed into silence after that, drowning in their own thoughts.
Sienna, who had been quieter as of late, told them of her doing extra-curricular work for her professors in Herbology and Magizoology. It was hard, but fruitful. It earned her twice the privilege points, and gave her more knowledge about magical creatures and herbs.
"I can't wait to start Potions next year," she said in a most wistful tone.
"If we survive this year, that is," Antonio muttered sullenly. He was greatly enjoying his classes at the moment, though no one but Harry really took the time to listen to him whenever he goes to tell them about it. Calvin thought that Divination was a fruitless endeavor and Astronomy a load of 'child's play that only simpering girls would bother with', which Antonio valiantly protested against. Marie's and Sienna's lack of comment to his defense only dampened his mood about his classes even more, but Harry only smiled at him and asked him about it.
So he told Harry about what he'd learned. They had started using weird spells in Astronomy that week, spells that only work during certain times, and under certain celestial spheres. It was very complicated and draining, but Antonio found himself excelling in the spellwork, far above his five other classmates.
He had demonstrated it to Harry one night. "Every point in the sky belongs to exactly one constellation, while at any given time, constellations from twenty to forty can cover the entire hemisphere the wizard is under. Spells are more effective the closer its corresponding constellation is to the wizard's zenith-that's an imaginary point in the sky directly above the person-and weaker as it nears the horizon."
It had been a clear, cloudless night, and the stars were everywhere. "I'm only really able to use northern spells, since Britain's in the Northern Hemisphere," he breathed. Harry could see that Antonio loved gazing at the stars, by the way his attention seemed to drift the longer he gazed into the dotted night sky.
"There—see that? That's Cepheus, King of Aethiopia—you've read of that in those Greek Mythology books you like to look at in the Dusk Library, haven't you? Well, there's this pretty standard spell—"he took out his wand and closed his eyes, muttering a few choice words. Harry couldn't quite catch it—it sounded Arabic.
"Alderaminus," he had cast, and his wands tip glowed a bright blue. He had then run the wand along his right arm, trailing it from fingertip to shoulder, and at once the blue glow had wrapped itself around his arm.
"What does that do?" Harry had asked in slight awe. Antonio had grinned at him after, bringing his right fist down to the ground. Dirt had flown as the fist had smashed a crater well into the earth.
Only Harry knew that Antonio was capable of such magic, because he was the only one who asked about it. Antonio told him that he only knew three spells as of that time, but only time could tell how powerful Antonio would get with this new knowledge.
Harry was impressed, but slightly jealous that Antonio had gone so far in his magical training. Harry still only new basic spells from his classes and the books he had finished, and hadn't put too much thought what kind of wizard he would be exactly. It all seemed as if everyone had some specialty. Marie could read various languages and was studying Ancient Runes, while Antonio used his own brand of Battle Magic, owed to his knowledge in Astronomy. Sienna was quickly excelling in Herbology and Magizoology, and could very well identify any living creature set before her with such precise memory.
It was Calvin who he couldn't quite define. He and the blonde had similar classes, and went about their studies in a not too different way. Harry did just as much advanced reading as Calvin did, yet the other boy was too aloof to suggest any inclination.
He had asked Calvin about it once, and was met with an arrogant huff of annoyance.
"Only you would think each wizard had to be labeled, Potter," he said. "Not everyone focuses on just one thing."
Harry wanted to believe that, but the only people he could see fitting into that outlook was Calvin and himself. Harry thought of himself as more of a Light wizard, not because his parents or his heritage had Light ties, but rather because he liked the inherent sense of peace and rightness he felt whenever he practiced Light spells. But he couldn't say that definitively, because there were some Dark Arts that he was very much interested in.
Though he was only a first year, the higher courses of magic piqued his interest—magics such as Elemental Magic, Mind Arts, Necromancy—the list was endless. The last one Harry rarely got any information about, but some students say that wizards and witches who pursue that branch were very secretive about the field of magic, and apprentices to some Necromancers in Ombra were more often out of the valley on some field work than inside the castle studying.
Harry was still being tutored by Professor Almerick, who had seemed less inclined to say anything to him short of instruction, opting to teach Harry in a more applied level than before. He would turn his room into a mini dueling arena, testing Harry on his knowledge of defensive magic.
"Spells can come in various forms. Some are physical projectiles," he turned around and flung a curse that turned into a dark arrow mid-air. Toxos Circulos. Harry recognized the spell—it was the one that sent him to the sanctum for the first time. He turned his wand up and Accioed a quill, Transfiguring it into a plank of wood. The arrow drove in deep, and the wood fell to the floor.
"You can counter those with Transfiguration, or with any spell that conjures physical objects."
"And then, there are magical projectiles," the professor said without missing a beat, throwing a jynx. Tarantallegra. Harry flicked his wand and a bluish barrier formed, deflecting the spell towards a wall.
"And for those, you use magic-based protection, like Protego for single spells and Haurio for relentless spells," Harry said. Professor Almerick then fired spells in succession. Harry succumbed in mere minutes, being hit by a well-aimed Rictusempra.
Harry laughed uncontrollably, yet he wanted to mope or frown or cry. The professor had been less warm about their interactions ever since the incident last week. He wanted to ask about it, but was too shy and scared of what the professor might answer him with. Instead, he bore the tutoring sessions, not letting the professor know of what he was feeling.
Headmaster Laverne and Doctor Paracelsus also tutored him during the weekends, a change that Harry didn't find welcome. Despite learning new things from the professors, he found the interactions forced and coldly formal, as if there were more pressing matters to attend to than teaching him.
Headmaster Laverne wasn't trying to match Professor Agrippa's drone, but she was tutoring him in the subject of History.
"This castle was built on seven pillars, all soaked in ancient magics. It is said that they're deep in the valley, unable to be accessed by the ordinary wizard," she took her tea, which had not been sweetened, onto her lips. Her words were colorless, but still Harry listened.
"Seven pillars, all keeping Ombra aloft," she said, trailing off and looking out to the grounds. Harry was dismissed early that day—the Headmaster told him she had much to attend to. "The fundamental rules of this school our connected to those pillars."
Unlike the witch, Doctor Paracelsus always kept him around more than necessary. They were trying to figure out why somehow, Harry was more attuned to his magic now.
"I'm going to teach you a new spell, Harry," the Doctor said. They were in one of the clearings reserved for practicing Battle Magic, and Harry was slightly giddy with excitement. He was finally going to learn something useful.
"It's relatively difficult to cast, so I won't be expecting anything. But please try your best, regardless," he said, and he waved his wand. Harry took note of the movements immediately—a movement of the hand where the wand tip and the wrist twirled in the same direction, but at different points of a circle.
"Expecto Patronum," the Doctor said clearly, and Harry watched, fascinated, as wisps of white smoke flowed out of the wand. It spun with the wand's circle, swirled and shaped, until it turned into a solid form. When most of the excess smoke dissipated, what was left twitched its ears, stretched its forepaws, and yawned, using its snout to dig at the ground.
It was a bear. Whether it was a grizzly or a polar bear, Harry couldn't ascertain, since all it was made of was specter-like vapor. Harry knew it was staring up at him, and it drew close, its paws making light thudding noises on the ground. Harry stood very still as it took its time sniffing him. It eventually grew uninterested, and started on a slow run around the field.
"Now you cast it," Doctor Paracelsus said, smiling encouragingly. "I saw you looking at my wrist. You've memorized the movement?"
Harry nodded absently, still following the huge bear with its eyes. Without hesitating, he drew his wand and aimed it at the empty air.
"Expecto Patronum," he breathed out.
Blank. It was what only description he could come up with. The night was blank. It was dark, yes, but the picture was so still and unmoving, that any object with it as background would look out of place.
He was the only thing out of place.
A man standing in the middle of a moor, a reserve under protection of the Muggle state. A sanctuary everyone but the authorities wasn't allowed to be.
There was nothing particular about this spot of earth, except—
There. A shift in the wind, a rift in the stillness, and, seemingly out of nowhere, an owl shooting out of a tear in space. It barreled through the wind as if it made a long, treacherous journey passing through the dimensions, and then steadied itself in mid-air, a parcel at its beak, ready to be delivered. The man let it be.
But he stared at the space where the owl flashed into existence, and smiled.
It was the out-of-place occurrence he was looking for.
A wordless charm that anchored to the earth was cast, and he Disapparated.
A special meeting. Evan thought it was high time all of them tried to get to the bottom of things, but it couldn't come at a more frustratingly inopportune time. He and Almerick were in the middle of love-making when the call resounded, and he was silently raging inside. It was silent—that is, Evan kept stonily quiet about his opinions.
But this couldn't wait. A meeting at this time of night meant urgency—which most certainly meant that Laverne had finally decided to act. To see fear plainly written on some of the faculty's faces—while in front of the children, no less—was nothing short of ridiculous and slapdash. They were supposed to keep things secret. All of them did, to some extent, but with the way some of them handled classes and other such interactions with the students, they might as well have been wearing placards on their faces.
"You need not look so put-off," Almerick said behind him. Evan glanced back. They were making their way towards one of the staff rooms, their little nightly time to themselves blatantly interrupted by a communication charm from Laverne. Not stoic enough for Ricky.
Almerick was smiling. An oddity on his quite-recently serious face. Evan always thought that Ricky's features were handsomer schooled in concentration and impassiveness than joy, but he found that he quite missed the vampire's cheerier side.
"You're looking chipper," Evan noted darkly. "Have you decided to tell me what's turned you into ice these days?"
Almerick smiled wider. Evan would not admit that he was glad this recent spell has lifted from Ricky.
"I have not," Almerick said in an apologetic tone. "But I will in due time, once I figure out a way to solve my problem. Or you could find out for yourself."
Evan didn't regard him with a glance, intent was he on getting to the staff room. When they reached the double doors, Evan lifted his hand and knocked two times, knocks which hopefully told everyone who could hear it that he was in his dark mood.
Almerick placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, before dropping it back beside his body.
"Ombra is deteriorating," were Laverne's first words. Evan thought that it frankly set the tone of the meeting. He glanced at the variations of unease that churned in the professor's faces, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wouldn't stoop to that level simply because he would look arrogant in front of his supposed peers. Only Ricky could see him do silly things like that, and even with the vampire he showed his reactions sparingly.
Of course, the tiny choruses of why's sounded, followed by theories by some of the professors, all related to the supposed fields they were teaching in Ombra. One professor of Magizoology supposed that goreworms were burrowing deeper into the earth and upsetting crucial ley lines and magical foundations, while another on Astronomy thought Neptune's alignment with Io was suspiciously churning the energy in the Valley.
Evan watched everyone try to give input, before shifting in his seat. Everyone turned to him expectantly. Evan should be surprised at how easily he commanded attention, but really, he would only be lying to himself. He thrummed not with magical power nor influence brought about by name or money—rather his command came solely from his presence, by the way his words made absolute sense in times of deliberation, and that was that. Beside him, Ricky tightened his hold on his arm. Evan read it more as a type of protective gesture than one of restraint.
"I think all of us will agree on one thing—the magic in the Valley is being affected by some force. My suspicion is that even the pillars that supposedly keep Ombra safe are threatened," he said solemnly. They all took the words and diced them, turned them in their heads in contemplation, or tried to make sense of them. Evan found that he didn't care—he had said what he thought, and things ought to be brought to light by Laverne. If the sodding old witch would just quit softening things up for everyone.
In the end, the Headmaster confirmed it, and Evan breathed a long, drawn-out breath through his nostrils that said, finally. The pillars were experiencing tension, and there was nothing any of them could do but find out why or how. No one has ever known the location of these pillars, or what magic each of them entail.
"I think it all comes down to Harry Wyllt-Potter," a gruff voice said over the cacophony. It was Professor Marjoribanks. Almerick's hand squeezed Evan's again, which made the Trasfigurations professor's brows furrow almost imperceptibly. He saw that Almerick was glaring—a suspicious, seemingly unprovoked gesture that made the cogs in Evan's mind wheel in wonder.
He had not spent time with the Potter boy except during classes and during those rare times he was with Ricky on weekends when he tutored the boy. He was splendidly bright and optimistic, and rather humble in his talents, a rather stark difference from his grandfather, whom Evan had known to be rather boisterous. It would make sense, he guessed, if Ricky had formed some form of attachment with Potter. Magic flowed alongside blood, and to a vampire, drinking one would mean inevitably consuming the other.
Murmurs consumed the room. Only Potter's professors had express interaction with him, so information regarding the boy was sparing outside of those wizards and witches. Some professors thought better, but most of them still based their knowledge on what the students know, or rather, what they've formulated about the boy.
There was a moment when questions about Potter fired from one professor to another, each increasingly more absurd than the previous one. His integrity as an Ombran student, his roots, his behavior in class—Evan found it surprisingly irritating how most of those who voiced answers have never even talked to or witnessed Potter behaving in an everyday situation.
"Enough," his partner finally said, with an astoundingly cold contempt behind the word, which earned him expressions of shock from the professors, and a sideways, curious glance from Evan. It was Evan's turn to reel the vampire back. None of them would want one rampaging in a magically locked room.
Ricky shrugged away his stare, but Evan gave his hand a squeeze that told the vampire that they will talk about this at a later time.
"I thought it beneath an Ombran faculty member to rationalize, much less to throw around such vulgar generalizations about an innocent boy," he said in a severely reprimanding tone. Evan figured that the idea of the boy sleeping around with older students did constitute as a vulgar generalization. Just because the boy has some higher year friends doesn't mean he's doing them any of those kinds of favors. It was beyond absurd—it was destructive.
"Then, might you enlighten us on the boy, Almerick? Since you have had the most time spent with him?" Laverne said. There wasn't anything in her tone of voice that suggested something equally vulgar or immoral, and for that Evan was grateful.
The Charms professor nodded. "I, too, think it is coincidental that these effects on Ombra's structure and magic had happened at around the same time the students arrived," he took a cursory glance at Marjoribanks, "though I do not agree that Harry Potter is the direct cause of the wild magic and the foundations' deterioration."
Evan could easily tell with their dubious looks that they didn't believe a word Ricky said, but he sat still, his gaze sweeping casually over the thirty or so other professors. He wanted to hex most of them, for pure entertainment, since their idiocy blocks their judgment too much, but as per usual, he decided against it. He had so many wants that couldn't be fulfilled, but he wasn't put out.
"Harry Potter caused two magical outbursts this year. One near Morgan's Sepulchre, when Harry was abducted, and another here in the castle, when the ancient doors appeared near the libraries. I'm sure most of you have felt the wave of great magic traveling through the grounds more than once this year."
The realization that all of them did feel the magic at around those times shocked them all into silence, even Evan, who was as new to the information as everyone was. He glanced at Ricky again, a normal-looking shift of the eyes that, to an outsider, could only mean acknowledgement, but really meant that they would be having this talk about Potter, and they would do it soon, maybe after the meeting.
Almerick was unperturbed by the piercing gaze, and instead continued. "If you felt the magic, then you also sensed that it was inherently Light in nature, and exuded energy that Light Magic represented—creation, freedom and protection. A far cry from what is happening to the Valley."
Evan never really thought Harry Potter would be anything less than a Light wizard. The Potters were Light-aligned, and even had the resources to convert other neutral magical families to their side. A pureblood wizard or witch with the proper knowledge on the Potters should be able to corroborate this information easily.
That didn't make it any less dubious, however, since some wizards of a certain side have existed, only to defect to the other. One prime example was Dorea Black, born of the Most Ancient House of Black, a house fully-immersed in the Dark Arts. And, if Evan could remember his genealogy correctly, she was Potter's great-grandmother, and husband to Light wizard Charlus Potter. A traitor to her own.
"Regardless," Professor Marjoribanks said over the tide of whispers that once again ruled over the meeting. "Harry Potter may not be the direct cause of it, but he did bring a distinct change in this school, aside from the apparent wrath of Albus Dumbledore and the students."
Laverne had to agree. Evan eyed her with a look that challenged her into making a wrong decision then.
"We still do not know what is causing Ombra to react in such a volatile manner. I do not think it is Wyllt-Potter's fault, either. Be that as it may, forces are in the works, forces trying to destroy Ombra's very foundations. Ancient magic couldn't easily be damaged, which leads us to think that the cause isn't from an outside source."
The discussion went on as a few more professors offered suggestions, but in the end, the faculty couldn't formulate a concrete enough reason to explain why Ombra was receding.
Instead, Laverne advised them to keep alert regarding any happenings pertaining to outside penetration and changes in the magics surrounding them, and, to Evan's silent approval, to be discreet and silent about the events that are taking place in the school to the students. Laverne had been very particular about how some professors acted entirely too distressed, and she had to chastise everyone.
Afterwhich, Evan allowed Almerick to lead the both of them to their rooms. Evan spared his partner no word until they were in the safe confines of their living quarters, and Ricky kept glancing at him worriedly, as if he were in his youth once again, and was being silently punished for doing something wrong.
When they entered their rooms and secured powerful silencing and anti-monitoring wards around them, Evan chose to be straightforward.
"Your chill was due to Potter, wasn't it? You tell me nothing of him. You try to protect him, even though you know that, as an Ombran professor, I am bound by word to never harm a student."
Almerick's lack of response confirmed it for him. And now, he also knew why he was being kept out of the loop regarding Harry Potter. Evan looked at Ricky's slightly hunched shoulders and defensive stance and sighed.
"Is it because I was a Death Eater?" Evan said, his voice calm as still forest.
"You are, still, Evan," Ricky said with exasperation, as if it was a topic that the both of them had discussed multiple times, without any definite resolution or closure.
Evan nodded at that. "I am, still. But I've turned against Voldemort. You knew that when I became professor. We forego other vows, and are purged of magical oaths when we accept Ombran law into our magic. You also know that Morsmordre is ink-black as Dark magic. I can never get rid of this Mark without getting rid of my life as well."
Ricky's silence once again was an answer. He still wasn't trusted.
"I forgive you," Evan said, before anything could happen. Ricky glanced at him in surprise, his eyes shining with emotions. On top of them, brimming on the surface, was resignation. Evan's gaze was understanding and solemn, but was most prominently disappointed. They were lovers, unbound by magic but declared by words. It was saddening how they still haven't achieved complete trust between each other, but they were only four years into their relationship, and hardships were still to be overcome.
"I will tell you," Almerick breathed out, "if you promise not to think of me as a monster."
Calvin knew plenty of things had changed since Potter's incapacity. Things were going far more smoothly in school than he—or Potter, for the matter—was accustomed to. No severed leather bags and school things spilling onto the floor. No stolen class notes, and no hexes coming from nowhere tripping the boy, or sticking him some place. It made him snort derisively at how openly disappointed Potter looked sometimes, because he couldn't use the countercurses he'd learned. Everyone seemed to be steering clear away from Potter.
Potter read in absolute peace. It was the first time he had spent in the Dawn Library without being in constant guard. Calvin saw him visibly relax, keeping his usual paranoia in place of actual focus, skimming text after text in succession. He looked tired, as he perpetually did, but unlike before, when he looked as if it was normal for him, he looked to be on the verge of a breaking point, as if he had been awake for more than a few days.
Calvin thought better against asking him if he was alright. It was courteous, but Potter would immediately be suspicious, and it would disrupt the fragile dynamic that they had set up, where Harry would read the texts on compulsion and Calvin on spells. It was almost a civil atmosphere, except for the small, contemptuous comments Calvin would fail to filter. Potter wouldn't mind—he was used to it by now—but Calvin would say them anyway, and it would give him some sense of peace.
However, when Harry had promptly dozed off on the boy, Calvin couldn't keep his thoughts to himself any longer.
"Potter," he said in a disdainful voice. Potter awoke, his face jerking away from the textbook it was lying against. He blinked blearily, looking around, and then his sleepy eyes settled on Calvin, who was glaring at him suspiciously.
"Sorry," the bespectacled boy mumbled. He resettled said glasses on his face and then stared at the texts again, before resuming his work.
When the boy leaned forward for a book farther down the table, Calvin saw bite marks on his neck. His eyes narrowed more dangerously.
Bite marks on his neck.
"Have you been reading into the night again?" Calvin asked, in an interrogating tone that Potter mistook as start to another scathing remark.
"No, I don't think I have," Harry answered slowly, warily.
Calvin eyed him. When he said nothing else, Potter shrugged and went back to his work, yawning into his hand as he flipped a page.
Calvin tried to catch the bite marks again, to make sure he wasn't imagining them.
There. Right near the artery. Two puncture wounds that couldn't be mistaken for anything else, other than vampire bites. Calvin clenched his hands into fists under the table.
"What do you do during the nights, then? You obviously don't get much sleep," he pressed.
Harry looked like he was trying to think, shaking his head after a while. "I don't … I usually just doze off. I don't remember, much."
Calvin couldn't pinpoint the reason for his contempt, but he suddenly couldn't focus on his research anymore. Potter has been sleepless these past few days, and it was probably because of that vampire professor. Calvin knew the creatures could enthrall their potential hosts with vampire magic, and he couldn't look past the professor trying to ensnare Potter during unsuspecting nights. Potter seemed gullible and susceptible enough.
And he could distinctly remember one late night study session when Potter had gone out, seemingly out of his wits, talking about searching the halls for something or other.
Calvin cracked it. Of course. But what could the vampire's motive be? Calvin had a sudden, deep urge to find out what it was, even if it cost him. It could be that he was using Potter for feeding, but having something this frequent in occurrence—it could be something else. Vampires don't feed every day. The only way he could was if he asked around, and also stood sentry over the common room at nights, watching out for when Potter made his nightly trips out of the Horologium dorms. Quite suddenly, Calvin smirked self-satisfyingly. He would get to the bottom of things.
Harry felt edgy as always whenever Halloween came. It always made him feel scared. He didn't understand it before his entrance to the magical world, but it dawned on him that day, knowing what he was told by his ghostly grandfather. He always felt encased in some stale, cold room because it was to be the night his parents died. It was an imprint, it seemed, on him. He didn't know how it happened that Halloween, and it was likely he never would, but he understood now.
Ombra, to his surprise, was festive when it came to Halloween. Harry never thought that the harshly academic atmosphere in the castle could turn so jovial and carefree. Professors distributed candy along the halls, the higher students played ghostly pranks, and the first years were having a nice day off from the barrage of schoolwork. Oddly enough, Harry experienced even less of a hard time with the other students. Some of them even waved, or smiled at his direction.
Marie chose this time to be in the libraries, mumbling an excuse about looking for some tome on Runes. Sienna was out sick of some fever, but without any privilege points, she was trying to break through it using her own brand of little cures. Harry couldn't say sorry to her enough, but she just brushed it off, looking at him with a surge of emotion and scurrying off to bed.
He and Antonio were playing Exploding Snap on the common room's carpeted floor, with Calvin reading some book near the fire. The air was chilly as always, and Harry and Antonio were bundled up in blankets.
Harry laughed as a wrong card flared to bits and blew up on Antonio's face, yet despite the distraction, he felt eyes on him, like the cold feel of steel against skin. He knew Calvin had his eyes set on him, but he didn't know why. He didn't say anything about it as usual, choosing to focus on playing the right cards. Antonio was pouting by then, cursing at Harry for his luck, and Harry passed it off as karma making amends for the day.
Antonio's face surged with sympathy, and Harry smiled to reassure the boy that he was alright. Antonio didn't press the matter, and they resumed their game.
A spell with the purpose of alerting the occupants that someone was outside the common room lit the room and chimed. The boys on the floor wondered who it was, and made towards the archway to open the path with their magic.
The runes around the arch glowed with their magical signatures and shifted the stones until the path was open. Willas stood in the archway, scuffing his boots on the stone floor and looking bored.
"Hello, Harry, Tony," he said, blinking. Harry had not seen him for weeks, and a smile lit his face up immediately.
"Willas!" he exclaimed. "How are you? You should come in. It's really cold out there."
Antonio eyed him suspiciously, and Willas merely glanced at him to roll his eyes.
"I'd rather not. That Balsagoth kid's going to be glaring a hole through me again," he said, loud enough for Calvin to hear. "I'm actually here to offer you an invitation, since a day without classes is usually dull for students in the higher years," he leaned against the archway and smirked. Harry didn't know what constituted a day of fun for the older students, yet curiosity got over his wariness.
"And what invitation is that?" Antonio asked. Willas noted how he sidled just so towards Harry.
"My journeymen want to meet you," Willas said to Harry, ignoring Antonio completely. "They've extended the invitation to Horologium, if your journeymen want to come." Willas seemed disinclined for anyone else other than Harry to come. He hid it well, but Harry felt it.
"We should go," Calvin said, appearing behind them so suddenly that they jumped at his voice. He was staring at Willas intently, and the taller boy stared back. It was almost a fight to see which one would falter first. In the end, Willas blinked and turned to Harry.
"So what do you say? From class Pegasus to Horologium?" he offered his hand, palm up, and looked at Harry expectantly.
"What's going on?" Harry inquired, as they entered one of the rooms in the castle Harry was too tentative to enter, because he had never seen any other first year mulling about in it. It was the Music Room, a little ways from Herbology Tower. More often than once, Harry had passed outside the room whenever he picked Sienna up from Herbology, and peeked inside to find students using musical instruments in the usual, rudimentary way, and some others utilizing them in casting spells.
They had come into what seemed to be an arena in full swing. It was still a room designed to amplify music and magic, but a large Rune circle had been drawn on the spacious ballroom floor, as wide as one of the flat expanses of earth in the training grounds. There were about twenty students inside, firing and dodging spells in a collective flurry of twists and dodges. Harry was astounded to note that any spell fizzed into non-existence the moment it passed through the circle's perimeter.
"Halloween is going on," Willas said, grinning. He was looking at the battle like they were, Harry with stunned awe, Antonio with a wicked glint of excitement in his eyes, and Calvin with cool regard. Harry saw one girl turn her wand into a flute, and play a tune that summoned a barrier about her. Most spells reflected off of it and fired in other directions.
"In a battle such as this, when only one person is the victor, a tactic like that is usually an effective one," Antonio remarked. He ooh'ed when one spell hit another girl and turned her limbs into useless octopus limbs.
Harry was focused on a duelling pair—two students whom Harry was sure were on opposing sides of the magical spectrum. The boy, who had long, slender hair tied back and a roguish expression on his face, was quite obviously Dark, by the way he hurled curses at his opponent carelessly and without a moment's pause. Harry didn't know most of the spells, but he knew they were dangerous—one reflected off the flute-playing girl's barrier and another burnt through it like acid.
The other caster was a Light witch—she was on the defensive, and Harry was amazed with her arsenal of spells. Three hexes fell in line and fired towards her, and with a flick of her wand, barriers erected themselves. Only one was stopped, and the girl had no choice but to use a conjured tower shield to bounce one off and to roll away from the third. She was smiling, however, incanting a series of spells that left her shelled with Merlin knows how many shields—Harry couldn't even see her with the stacked translucency of the magic.
The boy hammered through the wards. A conjured piece of rock, a Reductor curse, an acid hex, a Bombarda, then another Reductor curse—and spells fired continuously.
"That's … impressive," Calvin muttered next to Harry. "He knows which shield follows the next and destroys it accordingly."
"How is he doing that?" Antonio said in unrestrained giddiness. They all jumped when a sound hex exploded near them, bringing most of the students inside the Rune circle down to their knees.
"He's extrasensory," Willas said, as if that explained everything. "He's using his aura to sense the magic. But really? He's reading her. They've known each other for years."
When the last of the shields were down, they saw the boy curse—not cast a spell, but rather let out a number of offensive words from his mouth. The Light witch had drawn a Rune circle of her own, surrounding her. Behind her, a spell came from another student, only to crackle in mid-air and vanish into tiny wisps.
"Ah, her glyph inscribing at work," Willas chimed.
"What does it do?" Calvin asked, curiosity getting over his better judgment of not making conversation with the older student.
"It's an Isolation glyph—that is, a glyph inscribable only when inside another Rune circle. It copies the effects of the larger circle, creating a void inside the smaller glyph where the larger glyph has no effect," Willas answered him.
Five different spells hurl towards her, stopping at the edge of her glyph and vanishing.
"So spells cast in its direction fizzle out, like how spells directed outside the circle do," Antonio sighed in amazement. "That's brilliant."
"And difficult to do," Willas said. "Her shields could have died way before she finished the Rune links. Mind you, she writes fast, but one single mistake in her Runes could have made the effort fruitless."
"So she isn't a sitting duck," Calvin commented disdainfully. "She still can't do anything in there."
As if to prove him wrong, the girl turned her wand in her fingers. It shone and divided into two parts, and when she was holding a wand before, now she had an ordinary-looking violin resting between her chin and collarbone, her wand arm holding the bow.
She played, and her magic glided with the music that followed. The tune sounded ordinary to Harry, as far as music coming from string instruments were concerned, but her notes wove the music and transformed it into a different language, one where it can shift and change magic as specifically as a string of Latin words can.
Students still in the game groaned in a momentary bout of defeat before being transformed into ordinary household items. The boy landed on the floor as a toothbrush. Calvin visibly glowered at her victory, and Antonio chuckled in his expense, and at the brilliance of the Light witch's spell. They watched as the Rune circle died and sank into the ground, disappearing back into the castle's innate flow of magic.
"Brilliant as usual, Rebecca," Willas said, leaving the three Horologium students for a bit and clasping hands with the grinning witch. Harry saw the quick and easy way they exchanged touches, and decided that they must be friends.
"I was hoping that I'll turn them into zoo animals, but the magic runs a life of its own when played a Nocturne," she said offhandedly, transferring her gaze from Willas to the rest of them. Her eyes settled on Harry, and he took note of how she had two different-colored irises.
"Is this him?" she asked Willas, glancing at the taller boy for confirmation, though by the looks of it she didn't expect an answer as she walked towards Harry. "I imagined him taller. Like his friend over here."
Harry flushed red at the usual remark on his height, but stayed silent.
She gave Antonio an appraising look, and smiled at him. "You're Tony, I presume. Gerardo's brother."
Antonio nodded, shell-shocked at being addressed. She—Rebecca, her name was—then turned to Calvin. "And Calvin Balsagoth. You were in the meeting a few days ago."
Calvin considered her for a moment before nodding. She was powerful, Calvin thought begrudgingly. If anything, I can't antagonize her in any way. Her gaze was carrying, as if she was judging their very souls. When she lifted them, however, a beautiful smile graced her lips again and she swept her long hair aside. He noted the raised eyebrows of his journeymen at the mention of a meeting, but didn't look at them.
"From Pegasi of Aquarius to Horologi of Taurus, we grace your House as we hope you grace ours—with intentions of no ill will or malice, with equal and shared desire for prosperity and longevity," she announced, tapping her violin bow under her arm.
The boys, at a loss for words, stared at her, but Antonio who knew better about ancient rituals stepped forward, pointing his wand at the side of his own torso.
"The clock shall chime for the winged horse, in time to the beat of the World, in hopes of warm wingbeats. Should your air turn icy chill, our earth shall take its price," Antonio finished. Harry looked around him as a veil of unusual magic wrapped itself around them. Antonio's wand tip and Rebecca's bowtip shimmered with light, before shooting twin balls of magic through their skins. The magic settled itself and dissipated, and Harry was once again aware of the wide room. Harry didn't know how it happened, but it seemed that for the exchange of words, everything else had dimmed into the background.
"It's a truce ritual," Antonio said, prompted by their inquiring gazes. "Should one class harm another, both participants of the ritual would bear consequences. Probably something to do with destroying your lymph nodes."
Harry grimaced. He didn't know the exact purpose of lymph nodes, but he knew somehow that the body needed them. "You make it sound like a bug bite."
"The ritual's purpose isn't to cause pain, so I doubt it would feel like anything more than a bug bite—though of course, your lymphatic system will be shut down, and you'll be incapacitated," a comment came from behind them, and they all turned to see that it was the long-haired boy from before, his hair in slight disarray.
"Time-delayed magic," Rebecca said. "Very smart."
"You whip out your violin and I know we're buggered," he said coolly, regarding each of the first years in front of him. By the way he brushed Rebecca's one-up against him told them that he wasn't bothered by it.
"So you cast a counter-spell to activate after a few seconds," Willas explained, more for the sake of the first years who were exchanging confused glances.
"If I knew the glyph wasn't soundproof, I would've done something," the boy insisted.
"You knew you were going to get turned into a toothbrush?" Harry said, blushing when the boy's gaze swept over him.
"No," he said flatly, "but I knew I was going to be turned into something. That knowledge was enough for me." He cocked his head to the side and fixed Harry with a cold stare, and the boy in turn felt as if frozen spiders were crawling on his skin.
"Alan, you're scaring him," Willas pointed out, in a not-so-warm tone that forced said boy out of the gaze he had fallen into. Willas clasped Harry's shoulder with his hand, and he felt the boy relax under it.
"My apologies," he said, and Harry was surprised to hear him sound so suddenly earnest. "You're abuzz with magical power. It's odd, I see it rippling around you in waves, but it's entirely disconnected from your core—as if you don't really own it, but it's there nonetheless."
Rebecca turned to Harry and raised an elegant eyebrow. "Can you wield it?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head and ducking under their collective gazes, thinking about how Alan could see his magic. Harry could do the same—though he wouldn't classify it as seeing, really, since it was extrasensory.
"I bet he could," Antonio yipped, and Harry ducked under their collective gazes.
"It's very eerie—see there, that one fringe is reaching out somewhere, though I don't know where …" Alan said, trailing of and looking at a spot in the air. Harry tried to stare at that same spot, but couldn't find anything.
"So the others are still objects," Harry said, glancing dubiously at a potted plant that was once a girl.
Alan breathed out a few whispers and a glowing yellow circle, hovering over his head, appeared.
"It knows what to do," Alan breathed, looking worn out. "But my reserves are depleted. If anyone would just run magic through it."
As if on cue, everyone turned to Harry, who took a step back.
"Go on, then," Willas said, smiling. "Try and filter it through that circle thing."
"I-I don't know how," Harry replied, glancing at Alan. Calvin scoffed beside him.
"Just—look, Potter. Just feel it out. Concentrate. It should feel like pressing some weird, separate limb through that ring," Calvin said. He closed his eyes, and at first Harry didn't know what was happening, and then it became visible.
Calvin's magic. It was very faint, but it was there, floating, and a few wisps of it rolled in the air and made its way towards the ring. The instant it went through, the circle went alight with energy, and fired a wave of magic towards a random direction. It hit a bicycle wheel, and it turned back into a boy in an instant.
"About time!" the boy yelled, rubbing his bum.
"That was good," Rebecca said, and Calvin's face twisted in a smug expression.
"Just like that?" Antonio asked, intrigued. "It's like a template or something."
Harry had never encountered such magic. Nevertheless, he focused, and tried to feel out his magic twisting about. He had his eyes closed for a while, trying to pinpoint where everything was, making a grab for them in his mind and jamming them into the tight ring. Music began playing. He didn't know where, it just did, as he fed his magic around him into a funnel.
When he opened his eyes, everyone was looking at him with various expressions. Everyone, even the students who were random objects just seconds before.
"Amazing," Antonio breathed.
"What?" Harry said, confused. "What did I do?"
"I second that," Willas said, grinning, and Rebecca beside him nodded. "Your magic was visible—it just all flowed into Alan's ring and, well, it sent off wave after wave of the reversing magic." He then turned to Alan, who was quite in awe himself. "The spell was—"
"Music-based," Alan said, nodding. He was staring at Harry with an unreadable expression, and Harry's skin was crawling with it.
"I think that's just about enough of a demonstration from Harry here," Willas said, knocking everyone out of their fixation on the boy. Harry was surprised when everyone just went about their business, cursing and talking about the recent duel.
"What happened? Why did everyone just look away?" Antonio asked. Willas brandished his wand.
"Notice-Me-Not," he said, smiling. "It might save your hides one day, when you're off to an actual battle," he said, suddenly clamping his mouth shut when Rebecca openly glared at him.
"I think I now know the reason for this visit," Alan said, looking at the three first years, and then glancing at Willas with a deep gaze. "You're planning on telling them, Willas?"
At those words, Rebecca's expression changed from upset to murderous, and with a swift hand he hit the back of Willas' head.
"Ouch! That was uncalled for!" he cried, putting his hands up in a pitiful show of defense.
"Telling them, Willas! First years who have no business!" Rebecca whispered sharply, as if the Notice-Me-Not wasn't there. "Our master will skin you for Potions ingredients!"
"Well then, I'm glad he doesn't know I'm going to do it," he said, placating. "And besides, I'd be the most useless ingredient to him."
"He'll probably use you to experiment, then," Alan said seriously, and then turned to the first years, who were properly confused as to what was happening. Calvin looked suspicious, and Antonio and Harry looked doe-eyed.
After a short while where Alan and Willas stared at each other, he said, "So tonight. We tell them everything."
Willas nodded. Alan took out his wand and swished it once around them, enveloping them in a silencing charm.
"I think, since you're most likely going to be a central figure in this war, that we should tell you," Alan started. He breathed, and then came out with it all at once.
"Whatever false security you've fallen into because of this cold war, snap out of it. Everyone's at a standstill because their waiting for the professors. Students follow so closely behind their advisers' footsteps sometimes, that it won't be surprising if they did whatever their advisers did. The professors are duty bound never to harm a student, but the students, aren't. The professors hold such a high amount of power and influence that, when it happens, it will spell chaos for the students. There will be a war, Potter, a small one it may be as of now. But it will blow up."
"What are you talking about?" Calvin demanded. It was a question that Harry had wanted to ask but was too paralyzed with Alan's words to say.
"One of us in Pegasus, she's a Seer," said Rebecca, with a hint of trepidation. "Like all Seers, she sees only glimpses, but this one stood out. She told our Adviser of what we saw, and he came out with it. Laverne's exposing the school to the public. She's going to destroy a pillar of the school. The Pillar of Secrecy. That pillar keeps certain magical restrictions in this school. And if it's destroyed … it would just be like a regular magical school. Don't you think it's odd, how children from strictly opposing families aren't allowed to kill each other? It's because of that magic. Without it …"
"What does that imply?" Calvin said without missing a beat.
"It means, kids," Willas said darkly. "That the professors will be forced to Declare. And that will determine what kind of school this would be to the public eye. Everyone who's been using this school to hide will be exposed, and will react. Dark Lord sympathizers. Elitists. Magical creatures with treaties. Everyone would either be for Harry, or after his head."
