I'm sorry it was such a long wait this time! I participated in NaNoWriMo and it sucked up all my recreational writing time. I did this chapter a little differently, it's a bit of a character study for the first part, but I set out to do this fic for the purpose of testing myself and doing some experiments, so there's that. Once again, sorry for the delay. Enjoy!
November 6, 1994
Amalie Foss whisked the Location Potion in a counterclockwise direction rapidly while Viktor, Vladimir, and Wilhelm looked on in companionable silence. It was nearing midnight and the potion was almost complete, she was just waiting for it to turn from the brownish grey color it was now to the sharp silver color the potion was known for, signaling it's completion. She had every reason to believe she'd done it right, but the color change would be the proof, the undeniable evidence of her potions prowess, the correct brewing of a potion more complicated than even the Wolfsbane Potion.
Amalie didn't know what the Krums wanted with it, and she really didn't care. It was no secret to her that the Krum family had some under the table dealings and less than innocent exploits, but so did her own family. It shamed her to admit that she was the heiress to a family that has committed more hate crimes against muggles and muggleborns than most minor Dark Lords. Of course, the last few generations were much more discreet about their prejudice than their ancestors, but Amalie could still remember, when she was very young, her father, grandfather, and great grandfather going on muggle hunting trips to Romania, the only European Country that still allowed the practice at that time.
She didn't hate the muggles as her forefathers did, something she never allowed her family to know. She was indifferent to them, considering them unenlightened creatures that she never really had to deal with. She actually liked some muggleborns, especially the ones that didn't make it so obvious that they were from muggle families. That was another thing she wouldn't be informing her family about. At first, she thought her lack of intense hate had something to do with her eidetic memory; maybe she had too many clear memories of muggles being harassed at the hands of her family to truly hate them. That theory was weak, however, because her great grandfather had an eidetic memory too and he hated muggles and muggleborns with an intensity that would make the Black family blush.
Despite lacking the intense hatred of muggles her family was famous for, she knew for a fact that she shared their capacity for cruelty. The whimpering mess of a potions professor that she had checked on before invading his private lab to complete the brewing process was a testament to that. He was crying in his sleep, and she didn't care too much. He had made himself her enemy and enemies to the Foss family were handled without remorse. Now all she had to do was wait for his revenge, and be ready to out maneuver him when the time came. It was probably dangerous; to gain an enemy so early in the year when there was so much time for retaliation, but Amalie didn't mind that too much. Vladimir wasn't the only one who liked a challenge.
Amalie smiled in satisfaction as her potion took on the metallic sheen and color of silver and stopped stirring. She had succeeded, her skill was validated, she was destined for greatness. She set her stirring rod down and turned back to her audience. "It's completed."
Wilhelm smiled brightly and started clapping, joined a moment later by Vladimir and Viktor, although they were far less enthusiastic and far more sarcastic, they still seemed rather appreciative. Amalie gave a little mock bow and poured the completed potion into three jars she had on hand, distributing it equally. She handed the first jar of silver liquid to Viktor.
"Here you go. All you have to do is drop an incredibly accurate sketch or picture into the potion, and let the parchment melt into it. When the picture is completely gone, pour it onto a fresh sheet of parchment, and it'll create a map to whatever it is you're looking for. If there's more than one of the thing; it'll draw a map to the closest one."
Viktor nodded gratefully and put the jar into a satchel he had brought for just that purpose. If they were somehow caught leaving the school, the jar would seem suspicious and subject to question if out in the open.
"When do you want to use it to find the basilisk?" Viktor inquired, straightforward as always. Amalie vaguely noticed that Wilhelm didn't seem the least bit surprised with talk of a basilisk, so the Krums must have told him. That was fine, as long as the German remembered to keep his mouth shut until she got what she wanted.
"How about after the First Task? I want to make sure Vladimir is at least somewhat capable before we let him near a basilisk," Amalie teased. As she hoped, Vladimir sent her a dirty look, before lifting his chin haughtily, not bothering to respond to her light jab at his pride. It was probably for the best. The real reasons she wanted to wait was to delve into some more research about what enchantments might be protecting the serpent and to give Snape enough time to strike back. She couldn't have him trying to punish her in some way that would conflict with her mission, after all. It was much less dangerous to get his attempt at vengeance out of the way before going for her prize. Amalie slipped the second and third jars into her own satchel while Vladimir and Viktor spoke in rapid Bulgarian before Viktor left on his own. Amalie raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"He's going to go secure it in our room while I help you eliminate any evidence of our… activities here," Vladimir explained. Whatever they were using the potion for was obviously very important to them. Amalie nodded once, friendship meant not asking unnecessary questions about each other's illegal hobbies. Or at least that's what it meant in the Grey families of Europe. The Fosses and Krums were both widely considered Grey families. The Fosses had Dark attitudes but tended to avoid Dark Lords and only rarely used Dark magic. The Krums had generally Light attitudes, with questionable practices sprinkled throughout their history. Dark magic was an obstacle they weren't afraid to face head on, historically speaking.
Wilhelm was already waving his wand to put ingredients back in their proper places, ever the helpful companion. He sent a charming smile at Amalie, and she felt the left corner of her mouth turn up against her will. He really was quite charming, if a little desperate. Amalie's assessing gaze fell on Vladimir, who was spelling the cauldron clean. If Amalie's mother was to be believed, and you could always trust Amalie's mother as a source of secret information, there was going to be a Yule Ball with this tournament. She'd need a date, of course. A Pureblood one if she wanted to avoid familial backlash. She assessed the boys in front of her as she started to reconstruct the wards Snape had placed on his lab that Vladimir had broken Friday night, technically Saturday morning, when they started the potion. Then again, why should she limit herself to Durmstrang boys? The Malfoy heir had nice hair…
Amalie dismissed such thoughts as she grabbed her satchel and left the lab with the boys trailing behind her, holding an inane conversation in quiet tones. There was one more task they needed to complete before heading back to the ship. The trio entered Snape's room quietly, and Amalie pulled out a corked phial from her robes pocket. The professor was hugging his knees and sniffling pathetically. Amalie berated herself internally for idolizing such a sad excuse for a wizard. That was the problem with having heroes; they tend to disappoint you.
Amalie uncorked the dehydrated antidote to the Xhosa Elixir. The effects usually wore off on its own after about forty-eight hours or so, but the man had a class to teach in about seven hours, and if he didn't show up, people would start asking questions. Amalie put the phial under the professor's nose and he inhaled with another depressing sniffle. Almost immediately he relaxed into a more natural sleep, tears stopped streaming from closed eyes and his breathing evened out. Amalie corked her glass vial and slipped it back into her robes with a feeling of satisfaction, mission accomplished. Amalie jerked her head toward the door and the three students exited the room with a silence the Hogwarts ghosts would envy. Considering the type of shenanigans that went on at Durmstrang, the ability to sneak was about as much of a requirement as speaking Russian or owning a wand.
The trio was making their way out of Hogwarts, Vladimir leading the way with Amalie and Wilhelm on either side of him and back half a step, when they turned a corner and Amalie made eye contact with the bushiest head of hair she'd ever seen, and she would remember seeing anything bushier, her memory was perfect.
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Hermione Granger was torn between severely irritated and relieved. She had been in the library, tucked away at her favorite table, generally out of sight. She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn't notice the passage of time, or the fact that every other light in the library was out, except for the one closest to her study corner. Hermione couldn't be sure, but she half suspected that Madam Pince knew she was there but left her to get in trouble for being out past curfew as punishment for accidently ripping a page in one of the library books last week. She didn't need to go to such extremes, Hermione already felt terrible about the incident.
She was rushing back to Gryffindor Tower as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid getting caught when she ran into nothing and fell onto the cold stone of the corridor. She was about to let out a terrified shriek when two red heads popped out of thin air and started shushing her desperately. That's what led Hermione to her currant state of conflicted emotions. She was relieved because she hadn't run into a teacher or some form of invisible evil. She was irritated because, well, Potter and Weasley tended to do that to her.
"What are you two doing out after curfew? How were you invisible?" Hermione demanded in a harsh whisper.
"We could ask you the same question, Granger," Thomas Potter snapped. At least he held his hand out and helped her to stand from her ungraceful sprawl on the floor. Thank Merlin for Lily Potter instilling manners in that boy.
"If you must know, I was in the library," Hermione replied haughtily. Thomas raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"At midnight?"
Hermione felt her cheeks go red in embarrassment. "Well, I lost track of time," she said defensively. "I'm heading back to Gryffindor Tower right now, as you should before you get into trouble." Hermione couldn't keep the lecturing tone out of her voice if she tried, which she certainly didn't.
"Yeah, no. We're headed to the kitchens for some food. You can come if you want," Thomas offered. Ron gave him a slightly scandalized look. Thomas just shrugged his shoulders in reply.
"Absolutely not. I'm going to bed, and if you were wise, you'd do the same." Hermione brushed past the two boys to head to her comfy four-poster bed when she heard the worst sound in the world at that moment: the accusing meow of Mrs. Norris, Filches terrible cat. It was blocking her path. She turned back to look at Ron and Thomas in a panic.
"Quick! How'd you guys become invisible?" Hermione enquired desperately. She couldn't stand to have detention with Filch! Thomas gave a mischievous smile.
"If I tell you, you have to come with us," Thomas stipulated, laughter in his hazel eyes. Ron's looked ready to bug right out of his head.
"Tommy!"
"Yes, anything, just help me!" Hermione cried. She was tugged uncomfortably close to Thomas and Ron and was about to protest being manhandled when a silvery fabric was whisked around her and the boys. They had to crouch to fit under it together, but Hermione was too busy gapping to care. "You have an invisibility cloak?!" Suddenly a lot of Thomas's antics over the years made a lot more sense.
"Obviously. Let's go. Remember, this makes us invisible, not silent," Thomas informed her as they started making slow progress towards the kitchens. They had to pass Filch carefully when he burst into the corridor a few moments later, but they got lucky after that, encountering none of the faculty. Hermione almost demanded that they go back to Gryffindor Tower after that, but now she was curious. She had no clue where the kitchens were or how to access them. Maybe she could use a little more adventure in her life.
At that thought, Ron tripped spectacularly, pulling the cloak off of all three of them and landing into a huddle on the floor, surprisingly silent the whole time. Hermione helped him up, and figured his face was turning red because he was embarrassed by his fall and nothing else. Not bothering with the cloak anymore, the trio turned the corner closest to the entrance to the dungeons, and Hermione came face to face, unknowingly, with the diminutive form of Amalie Foss.
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Wilhelm Richter cocked his head to the side as he looked at the gangly, blushing ginger in front of him. The redhead was staring at him in shock, and Wilhelm couldn't pass the opportunity to smirk, only for the boy's eyes to widen further. It's not everyday you got to intimidate a spazzy Englishman, after all.
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Vladimir didn't know what he'd done in a past life to come face to face with his twin brother while trying to sneak out of a castle after some rather illicit activities, but he was really sorry. Thomas Potter was openly gaping at him and Vladimir wondered if he'd look that stupid when surprised if he hadn't been blood adopted by Iskra as a child. Probably not, that kind of stupid took a certain level of dimwittedness he doubted he'd ever achieve.
Working on more instinct than anything else, Vladimir activated his wrist holster and his wand jumped into his hand. He leveled the tip to point between Thomas's eyes, and sensed more than saw Amalie and Wilhelm do the same on either side of him to their own counterpart. Thomas's eyes crossed to look at the wand threatening him. What do you know; the look could get even stupider.