Ch. 21

Besides their omnipresence in popular culture, actual records of Vampire are terribly difficult to locate. At least one scholar has joked, more serious than not, that even with all of the magickal things in our world, Vampire might actually just be fairytales.

Letter exchange list – megafauna and cryptozoology and other terrible preprints

Horry considers exiting the common area through the portal again, but decides that the wand's answer to what happens in the case of magickal paradox was vague enough that he doesn't want to risk braining himself on a rock—even if that probably wasn't the intended lesson of the…parable. Instead, he exits out through the dragon's maw once again, which is considerably less disorienting, and almost immediately runs into a professor he saw previously in the dungeon area, but doesn't really know.

"Mister Patter, I thought Horbid was bringing you to your coursework selection," she looks at him, vacillating between that permanent face of anger that seems to befall all teachers when they're speaking to children that may have done something wrong, and something approximating motherly concern.

"Oh yes, I did that, um, in the future. I…uh," he holds up the sphere.

"Goodness, Mister Patter, where did you get that?!" she whips her wand out and it flies out of Horry's hand into hers.

"Oh…uhm,"

"First years are not supposed to use any chronomancy. How far back did you go?"

"About seven hours I think?"

"Seven hours?!" she harumphs, "If Alvin gave this to you, I swear…"

"No, no one gave it to me. It, um, actually it kind of got thrown at me. I think I might have arranged that?"

"Why would you arrange for someone to…actually, no. I don't want to know. This is why I refuse to teach Chronomancy," she shoves the sphere in a pocket.

"What happens if I, uh, well if someone doesn't throw the sphere at me? In seven hours?"

She narrows her eyes at him, drilling into him with fierce inquisition, "Mister Patter, an older pair of students did not somehow convince you to tell this story to me, to serve as cover in the case you were caught with a magickal item you should not have, but which nonetheless is a pivotal component for your part in a grand plan of tomfoolery and ruin, the scope of which was not made fully clear to you, but will absolutely result in your downfall?"

"I, uhh, no?"

"The first day. First day of class, and we lose another one to a loop," she takes it out of her pocket and hands it back to Horry.

"If Freb and Geordie have anything to do with this, they're being sent to the dungeon. Do not use this, except for the one event which has already occurred. I do not want to know what will happen if I keep it. The chain of events that will result in this timetwistor leaving the lockbox in my office will cause decidedly more damage than letting you keep it, and it will make me upset. I do not like being upset, Mister Patter. 5 point deducted from Grippenboor. Please be more careful with chronomancy in the future,"

"But I didn't…"

"Please avoid talking to yourself. I do not want you to be hospitalized…again," she says, throwing her hands up in the air, and struts down the hall in a huff.

"Well that answers…a couple of questions…" Horry mumbles to himself as she disappears around a corner.

He briefly considers consulting another faculty member, but decides that it wouldn't be in the spirit of a blind test of his wand to include any of the possible suspects in on his scheme…at least yet—unless it's Horbid. Horbid seems totally harmless in a sort of…lethal way—like a mama grizzly bear. Horry wonders if Horbid even knows what a grizzly bear is. Actually, on second thought, pretty much every creature Horbid has to deal with is probably twice as terrifying as a grizzly bear along every relevant axis, if Horry's impression of magickal Britain is at all accurate.

Focus Horry, he thinks to himself, and turns in a circle, contemplating his options.

As if on cue, a pair of older students that look impeccably similar to one another round the corner and approach Horry with enormous grins.

"Oh no,"

"Hiya Horry,"

"How's the plan going?"

"I don't…you're Freb and Geordie aren't you?"

"Oh this is earlier, then?"

"Must be right at the beginning."

"Ah, well, don't want to mess with anything do we?"

"Would never do such a thing."

"Good day, Horry, talk to you later!"

They continue on past him and around the far corner, after the stern professor.

"Do either of you know lie detection spells at least?" Horry shouts after them.

"Can't hear you!"

"Ears plugged!"

"Good luck!"

"Sorry in advance!"

These are probably exactly the two things you do not want to hear from someone with privileged knowledge of your future—so Horry decides that there's a good 50% chance that the older students are screwing with him. He's still thoroughly rattled though.

And then he notices the sphere is gone again.

"W..wait!" He runs after them, rounds the corner, but they're gone. His groan twists into a frustrated yell.

Stewing, he makes his way out towards the front entrance—which takes considerably longer than it needs to after three wrong turns, and walks towards Horbid's shack. The tours won't start for some time, so he's pretty sure he won't trigger any causal apocalypse. He'd seen the shack out castle windows previously, but never gotten a close look.

It's…well, it's a shack. No space warping magick—no ultraviolent gargoyles, just wooden logs and shingles in a neat utilitarian design. Horbid had probably crafted it himself. He leans against an enormous axe, talking to a group of three older students.

The group of older students chat with Horbid by a stewpot. Conveniently, they wrap up just before Horry approaches, and Horry intercepts him as the students make their way back to the castle.

"Oi, 'Orry, aren't ye supposed to be pickin' classes?"

"I…yeah, I'm actually from seven hours in the future. I think I arranged to send myself back in time so I could try to trick my wand without it knowing…"

"Yur wand? Oh. Ohhhhhhhh." Horbid leans against his hut, nodding his head, "Ah," he says finally.

"Alvin's wand," He says, finally, with a knowing grin.

"You know about it!"

"Well yeh, I just didn't 'spect 'e'd give it to ye. Makes sense I s'pose…"

"Do you know anything about it!"

"It sounds like it's up to its usual tricks if yur already travelin' back in time 'cause of its nonsense,"

"No, like, what is it?"

"Well, it's Alvin's wand o' course,"

"So it's the Eldar wand?"

"I dunno if ye could say that…"

"Why not?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't I say it's the Eldar wand?"

"Say what's the Eldar wand?"

"Alvin's wand!"

"What about it?"

Horry groans, "Okay. That sort of answers that question. Um, you don't happen to have a time-twistor do you? I had one, but two older students—twins I think?—took mine,"

"Oh Chronomancy's real dangerous, 'Orry. Don't wanna be messin' with that this early. I wouldn't worry too much. Things'll sort out. They 'ave to!"

"That…huh. I didn't think of it that way. Oh, but I still want to try something. Um, do you know any lie detection spells?"

"Err…a couple. For catchin' yur wand in a lie? I don't know if that'll work...I know one that makes somethin' distractin' 'appen if someone lies, but ye gotta cast it on 'em direct-like. Ummm…oh, I know!"

Horbid lumbers into his hut and rummages for a while. Horry hears pots clattering—possibly the sound of sand being poured?—a tremendous cracking noise, like wood splintering—and then some flowing water.

"Ye said two older students that looked like each other, right? Wasn't Freb and Geordie was it?"

"Does everyone know who they are?"

"Nah, they're just regular rapscallions. I'll sick the delmogalofax on em next Creatures class for ye, if ye want. Might make 'em think twice 'bout messin' with time…"

Another tremendous crash heralds Horbid's return—mug of something steaming in one hand, and a book in the other.

"That…probably isn't necessary," Horbid hand Horry the book.

"This'n's tricksy. It's really a chain o' spells from an ollllld book o' pranks I had back in me school years. Tries to detect dishonesty, but it ain't foolproof. Makes candlelight flicker if someone's lie'n. Unless they took the regular precautions o' course,"

"Right…," says Horry, flipping through it. It's a story about a bankrobber.

"It's…it's so weird how they're all stories. Where did the story come from?" Horry says, absently, turning the pages.

"From us o' course! Well, that's one o' the leadin' theories, anyway. They're reflectin' our ideas—wants 'n whatnot. Would be weird if a big ol' library had a whole buncha spellbook stories before there were any humans te read 'em, right?"

"Oh," says Horry—he hadn't considered that the Library might actually be older than humanity, which seems painfully contradictory. But if the Library's actually changing over time…

"Oh, um, also, what happens if I run into myself? From earlier?"

"Do ye remember runnin' into yerself?"

"Uh, no."

"Probably best avoidin' it then. S'not forbidden mind ye, but it means things'll get much more complicated—might have to get past-you's memory scrubbed at some point, for example. Consistency is tricksy—dangerous."

Coming from Horbid, this revelation is terrifying enough that Horry has been thoroughly convinced to avoid himself at all costs.

"Wait…does this mean…does this mean that the Blue Eyed guy…" Horry's heartrate spikes.

"'Orry, I don't know who that was, but it wasn't you. Even if it looked like ye. Maybe not a real consolation 'n all, what with what time can do to a person—but when Marlin's bloody parts get involved, all bets're off,"

"That's not really terribly reassuring," Horry says, squeezing the spellbook, "uh, no offense."

"Ahh, none taken, lad," Horbid frowns, looking at the tree-line, "Like I said, at the end o' the day, things always sort 'emselves, out—whether ye like it or not."