Posted Apr 17, 2015

SUMMARY: Rasalas and his friends get a crash course on Horcruxes; the rest of Bill's family arrives, resulting in amusing introductions; and Dumbledore gets yet another introduction to Rasalas' wrath...

208. INTRODUCTIONS
End of June – July 9, 2006

"If my name were Ouch, it would pain me to introduce myself. As it is now, I only find my name mildly tortuous."

- Jarod Kintz, How to construct a coffin with six karate chops

Everyone at the table looked confused at Bill's look of horror.

"Enlighten us. What exactly is a Horcrux?" Arthur asked.

Bill still looked sick. "The darkest kind of magic. It involves hiding a piece of one's soul in some sort of container. That's what's in the locket Kreacher is referring to… a piece of the Dark Lord's soul."

"Such a thing... it would be an abomination," said Arthur, now understanding. "To corrupt one's soul in such a way. It defies the natural order of things."

"What would that get him?" Brady wondered.

"A Horcrux will prevent its owner from truly dying," said Bill, "The owner would exist in wraith form, a most pathetic existence, but... still attached to this world."

"Well... Voldemort... it l-l-loosely translates to 'f-f-f-flight from death' in french," said Ryan, "If he did s-s-something like... splitting his soul. Guess it's no real surprise."

"Just demonstrates further just what kind of monster Voldemort truly is," said Rasalas.

"And it makes the job much more difficult," said Bill, "Such objects are near impossible to destroy."

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it. Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work... so many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open..."(1)

"It's not your fault, Kreacher," said Rasalas, "Voldemort is a very powerful wizard."

"According to a book titled Secrets of the Darkest Art, the container in which a Horcrux is placed must be, and I quote, 'destroyed beyond magical repair'."

"Such things. This is disturbing," said Accolon. He thought for a moment, and clearly by the look on his face, it had further unsettled him. "Mr. Weasley, tell me. Is it possible for one to create more than one... soul container?"

"Possible, yeah, I reckon. Though doing so would further divide the soul."

Now everyone at the table looked ill.

Rasalas let out a sigh. "Would explain an awful lot now wouldn't it?"

"You think he's done it," Bill guessed.

Rasalas nodded and frowned. "Come on, think about it. I don't remember much, but from a third-hand view... everything he's done... how he behaves."

"If your guess is right... that makes it infinitely more difficult," said Bill, "All of you understand, before he can be destroyed for good, all of those items will have to be destroyed first."

"Though we now have this information, it will do very little good to dwell on it without having the power to take action," said Lancelot.

"I would agree," said Arthur, "Though I do think it important we determine how many Horcruxes... this Dark Lord has actually made. At least get an idea of the size of the fight ahead of us."

"Us? Sir, although I appreciate your thoughts on the matter, your participating here could be very dangerous," said Bill, "You do have your own fight."

"Which is no different than the one you face here, with similar grave consequences," Arthur argued, "If our worlds remain connected, it is only right I lend my sword to the effort."

"I welcome it," said Rasalas, "If Arthur and his companions wish to help... then so be it. They train with us at Avalon... and who knows? It could mean all the difference in the world." He turned back to Kreacher. "Could you fetch the locket for me?"

"Of course." Kreacher popped away, only to return about thirty seconds later, a locket suspended from a golden chain clutched in his hand. Almost immediately, Rasalas could hear it, whispering to him, in a language he and only one other understood: parseltongue, the language of serpents.

"We'll keep it hidden here, so it won't be stolen," Rasalas decided, "Put it in the dresser—"

"Wait. We should put it in some sort of warded container. Even from here, I can almost taste the dark magic coming off it," said Bill.

"Yeah. Agreed. And not a word of this leaves this room. Last thing we need is word to get out that we know about this. We really don't need the fight to be more difficult than it already is."

July 7

It had taken a little bit of an effort on the part of Kate, to permit the Weasleys to visit Rasalas. Given the number of visitors, there was a little bit of red tape, but in the end, Bill collected a port key from Rasalas (he was the only person able to create a port key onto the property), and Apparated to Simcoe Crossing, where he purchased a return international port key at the owl post office.

It was the middle of the morning before Bill returned, with his parents, the twins, Ron, and Ginny. The port key was programmed to deposit them on the back patio, which by this point, had a hard-top canopy over top of it. As soon as everyone regained their feet and their bearings, Rasalas once again found himself the recipient of a bone-crunching hug, thanks to Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Harry..." she apologized.

"Mrs. Weasley. There's nothing to be sorry for. I know who was responsible, and it's most certainly not you or your husband. Now... err... do you have things that need—"

"Oh no, that's quite all right," Mr. Weasley answered, "We've had everything shrunken down."

"Oh. Right," Rasalas answered, giving a silly grin.

"Thanks for inviting us," said Ron, as they shook hands, "Blimey, this is your house?"

"Sure is. And as I've already said to all of you a hundred times, my door will always be open to you. You guys are the family I should have had, and as an honorary son, I think I've got some latitude."

"Thanks, Harry," said Ginny. Rasalas could only grin, seeing her go a bit red in the face.

"Err. Right. Now. We do have room for everyone to have their own room if they like—"

"Fred and I always share," said George.

"And you will not be conducting your clandestine fly-by-night business while we are guests here!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, looking exasperated.

"It's quite all right. I can ward the room so they won't disturb others," Rasalas offered, "Mrs. Weasley, we're entering some very dark times. If Fred and George can make the world laugh, then all the power to them."

"Well..."

"I think it'll be quite all right, Molly," said Mr. Weasley, "But boys. If you cause damage, you will be responsible for it."

"Right. Uh... come on in. I fear we might suffer heat stroke if we stay out here much longer."

"Yes, my word, this is incredibly warm," Mr. Weasley noted.

"Been this way since the beginning of the month," said Rasalas, "So cooling charms and light clothing are a must. And as you probably notice, I've already suffered a nasty sunburn."

"Yes, that's what happens when you keep your hair so short and not wear something on your head," said Bill, sarcastically.

"Ryan says the temperature's thirty degrees already, but the humidity's making it much worse. Good thing we've got central air."

Mr. Weasley was about to ask exactly what he meant, until they stepped into the house. It was as if they'd stepped into a refrigerator, the cooler air washing over them.

"Merlin..." said Mr. Weasley.

"Woah... who cast the cooling charm?" asked Fred.

"It's not magic," Rasalas answered, "There's a machine in the cellar that does it."

Mrs. Weasley looked confused. "Non-magical? What on earth for?"

"It's how non-magical people keep their houses cool, Mrs. Weasley," Rasalas explained, "In the winter, the same machine keeps the place warm. It's quite fascinating."

"You must show it to me," said Mr. Weasley.

"Oh, I will," Rasalas smirked. He got a glare from Mrs. Weasley for his effort. "Seriously though, this'll be a little education for all of you, how a non-magical family lives. The Sawyers live across the road, and their house is still very much non-magical... though I've been helping them with a few household charms.

"My place is built with a lot of the features their house has, such as mechanical heating and cooling... and the kitchen's got electric appliances... but the cool thing... the contractor's made it so the ambient magic here won't mess with electricity."

"But..."

"Mr. Weasley, think about it. Think of how much wizards and witches in England truly know about non-magical people."

"Not a whole lot, really," Mr. Weasley agreed, as they climbed the stairs up to the second floor.

"So this will be a bit of an education for all of you. I'd actually like to get you guys in to visit the Mundane Relations department at the ministry here. Their Technology Integration Division is truly fascinating, if what my solicitor tells me is true—and honestly she hasn't led me wrong yet."

"Technology Integration?" Mr. Weasley looked immediately interested.

"Rather than sneer at non-magical technology, the Canadian wizarding world embraces it."

"Do they have a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office here?"

"As far as I know, no. But then again, I don't know the inner workings of the ministry here quite yet. I just know that the community here is very different than England's. Right. So Fred and George, you guys can have this room."

Rasalas indicated a room that had a pair of double beds. It was directly opposite the top of the stairs.

"If this isn't enough room, I can apply an expansion charm."

"No, this is perfect," said George.

"Now. Ron. You get a room across from mine—although I tend not to sleep here all that much."

"Why—"

"His other place, remember?" Ginny reminded them.

"Yes, my sanctuary. Once you guys get settled, we'll go in there."

"Pretty big hallway," said Ron.

"It's one thing I don't like all that much about Ryan's place... the corridors are claustrophobic, cramped. But their place was built in 1905, so that's what they get. Now. Err... Ginny, you get the room next to Fred and George. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, if you'll follow me... you can take the room directly above mine."

He led them up the stairs to the third floor. It was an exact copy of the lower floor, and the east bedroom was similar to Rasalas', save for the fact it didn't have its own bathroom.

"Oh, this is beautiful," said Mrs. Weasley, taking in the room.

"My word. This would take up three rooms back at the Burrow," Mr. Weasley guessed.

Rasalas could only grin. "If you need anything, either Kreacher or Dobby are around, and I've asked them to listen for you. If they can't help, they'll come get me."

"Dobby is working for you?" Mr. Weasley looked surprised.

"He bonded with me a few weeks ago. And Kreacher's renewed the elf bond. Never seen him so happy."

"Well... Sirius never did treat him well," said Mr. Weasley.

"I know. Though he did improve somewhat, Kreacher still didn't like having to take orders from him. It saddens me that Kreacher was somewhat pleased with his passing, but... I can't fault him."

"How are you keeping?"

"Still saddened, still furious. Healer Theresa is a big help though, and having loads of people around who care about me and are willing to help... it makes a big difference, right? Just as much as Brady had all of us around back at the beginning of the year.

"Right. So get settled in, and come down to the parlour in a half hour or so, and I'll show you my second home."

It was nearly an hour before the family once again gathered in the parlour. Rasalas then led them through the door into the sanctuary. For the time being, he had closed the other doors, deciding not to overwhelm his guests for now.

"Right. So come into the common room. I think Dobby and Kreacher are about ready with lunch—or dinner in your case, but we can wait in the common room."

"Where are we, Harry?"

"Wizard space," Rasalas answered, "This belonged to an ancestor. Bill might have tried to explain a little bit to you, but it's better to experience it first-hand."

He closed his eyes a moment, causing the colour of the wall stones to change from a sandy-shade to a rose-shade. The couches, meanwhile, turned from a crimson shade, to a tan shade.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "How do you make it work?"

"It's by thought. I mean..." Rasalas again closed his eyes, undoing the changes he'd just made. However, a Chudley Cannons banner suddenly appeared beneath one of the Pendragon banners beside the fireplace. Ron couldn't help but grin.

"This is truly fantastic," said Mr. Weasley, "I did hear tell of a room at Hogwarts that was able to work in such a way—"

"The Room of Requirement," said Fred, "George and I have used it a few times... earlier in the year, when we were hiding stuff from Umbridge."

"Then you've seen the work of my ancestor," said Rasalas, "It was one of two very powerful magical artefacts. This one is the more advanced of the pair, while the other... was given to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"You're related to the founders?" questioned Ron, his eyes getting wide.

"No. At least I don't think so. The sparse documentation I have on this place only states that the other was given to Ravenclaw, not inherited."

"Oh."

Just then, Kreacher stepped into the common room. "Lunch is being served, Master Rasalas," he announced.

"Thank you, Kreacher."

The elf bowed regally, before popping away. Rasalas knew he was likely going to notify Arthur and the others—they had gone to Avalon for the morning, but with the time difference, the day was nearly done. So like the Weasleys, it would be dinner rather than lunch.

"So follow me."

"Whose banners are those?" Mr. Weasley questioned.

"Of house Pendragon."

"As in King Arthur? Where did you get them?"

"From the source," Rasalas grinned, as he ushered his new guests into the dining room. Mr. Weasley looked confused, as did his wife, but Rasalas didn't want to spoil the surprise. Their reaction was going to be precious, he just knew it.

"Merlin... all of this was created in the same way... just telling the artefact what you wanted it to do," Fred guessed, as they took seats at the table.

"All of it. I mean, there are some things that the others have brought into the sanctuary, but most of this... it's just by my asking for it. The table in here is so large, because I do have some rather interesting guests, you'll be meeting very shortly. And of course you have met Brady and his family—though Mrs. Gibson doesn't like coming in here... it's a bit stressful."

"Yes, having one's religious views upset, it would be very stressful. How is Brady coping?" Mrs. Weasley wondered.

"Well enough. Both him and his brother have taken it pretty well, all considered. Their mum prefers to stay at Ryan's place, since there's not a whole lot of magic there."

Just then, Rasalas heard a door open and close, and moments later, Brady stepped into the dining room.

"Heard dinner's out."

"Nearly." Rasalas just got the words out of his mouth, when the centre of the table was filled with a number of dishes. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and typical trimmings of a meat-and-potatoes supper. An ice chest also appeared, filled with butterbeer, regular beer, and non-magical soft-drinks. Ron reached out for one of the beer, only to receive a stinging hex.

"I don't think so, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

That had Brady smirking. "Wait a few years, son."

"Right..." Rasalas grinned, snatching a beer himself. A glass instantly appeared beside his plate.

A door could be heard opening and closing again, and this time, it was Arthur, Lancelot, Accolon, Ryan, and Aaron who joined them. Rasalas waited for everyone to be seated.

"Right. So, my old friends and surrogate family. I introduce Arthur, Lancelot, and Accolon. Guys, my surrogate family, Molly and Arthur Weasley, along with their children: Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron—I've told you loads about Ron already."

The Weasleys all looked at Arthur and his two knights for a moment, and then it dawned on them. Mrs. Weasley promptly fainted.

"Well, my King... I knew you had a most powerful effect on people, but this... I believe this might top them all," said Lancelot.

"Mischief managed," Rasalas coughed, also trying to refrain from smirking. Precious indeed!

Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, produced his wand, and revived his wife.

"Merlin... my word," she managed, still looking out of sorts. "How in the world is this possible?"

"Well... it all started back in January..." Rasalas began.

With the help of Ryan, Aaron, and Brady, Rasalas filled the Weasleys in on their connection with Arthur's time. They continued to have lunch/dinner as the story unfolded, with Arthur and his knights adding their perspective when it became appropriate.

The dishes had long since been cleared away when they finished their explanation.

"How long do you plan on maintaining the connection?" Mr. Weasley questioned, "And more importantly, is the ministry aware?"

"Possibly, though if they do, they haven't called on me about it. As to how long? I don't know. I think that's really up to the Goddess. It's her time frame, not mine," Rasalas answered. "And before you ask, no, I don't think it would be a good idea if you guys come through.

"What I do plan on doing though, is cutting back the training schedule while you guys are here. If I'm hosting a house full of guests, it's only right I'm around at least part of the time."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"No. I think I have everything in hand. But I know Bill's got a few things organized, so I want all of you to treat this as an honest vacation. Meaning, no cooking, no cleaning, no chores. Well... I mean... maybe the cooking thing, but... absolutely no cleaning and such, unless you want to get a scolding from Dobby or Kreacher."

That earned a chuckle from Mr. Weasley. "I think Molly might be lost with that sort of order, Harry."

"But there will be other things you guys can do. Seriously," said Aaron, "There's stuff we couldn't do back in the winter because of security, right... with it being relaxed a bit, and with it being nice... we've got a few places you guys will probably like."

"And will you be joining us, your majesty?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Perhaps. Though likely not often. I don't wish to be too far out of reach," Arthur answered, "And too much exposure might be risky."

"As we've explained to him," said Rasalas, "Last thing we need is for a freak accident... Goddess knows, I'm a magnet for them."

That got a goofy grin from Ron. "Tell me about it."

Rasalas laughed too. "Four years at Hogwarts, every one of them a train wreck in some way or other. I mean, most of my experience with the English wizarding community has been nothing but a train wreck. With very few exceptions."

July 9

With the Weasleys being there, Rasalas made a point of taking all of his meals in the sanctuary. It meant lots of port key travel, but realistically, it wasn't too much of an issue. The others typically stayed at Avalon for lunch, though occasionally one or two would make the trip with Rasalas.

On this occasion, it was Brady who returned with Rasalas to the sanctuary for lunch.

"There's an owl for you, Harry," said Ginny, pointing to the barn owl that waited in the common room. The chamber had been designed to allow post owls to come and go.

"Right."

Rasalas collected the envelope from the owl, and the animal lifted off, finding its way to the exit point, and vanished. Rasalas, meanwhile, gave a feral grin.

"Whiskered wanker. He sent a port key."

"Who?" Ginny asked.

"Dumbledore." Rasalas smirked again. "He doesn't know the wards here would prevent such a thing from functioning without my permission. However, I think I might entertain the fool." He glanced at Brady. "Care to come along?"

Brady shrugged. "Yeah. Can I shoot his ass this time?"

"Please don't."

Rasalas opened the envelope, and pulled the letter out.

"Put a hand on it, like I was sharing it. Great. Right, guys, we'll be back shortly. Probably an hour, depending on how long the ministry takes to 'sort it out'."

Rasalas then projected permission for the port key to activate, and they vanished with a blur of limbs.

They landed in the outer part of a magnificent, circular office. Shelves lined the walls, as did portraits, hung higher up. A number of tables seemed to be brimming to overflowing with trinkets and knick-knacks. Brady was easily distracted by the number of things about, but Rasalas gripped his shoulder.

"Stay close."

"Ah, Harry... and—" Dumbledore began. He was standing at the top of the short set of steps that led into the inner part of the office, and appeared surprised that Rasalas had brought someone along.

"You know," Rasalas said evenly, "You really ought to be more careful sending a port key to someone. I could have easily brought a throng of Aurors with me instead of a close friend."

"Now Harry—"

"It's Mr. Black to you," Rasalas hissed, "My godfather's passing now cements that painfully clear. Your disrespect for an ancient and noble house will garner you no friends. And just to be clear, though I know who perpetrated his murder, should I discover you were somehow involved in arranging the incident, I will hold you... equally guilty."

Dumbledore gave a pained look. He knew Rasalas was right. Ignoring styles and titles could cause problems, and quite honestly, he needed Harry's help. Further alienating and provoking him would do no good.

"Forgive me."

"No. I don't think so. You've once again inserted your overly large nose where it doesn't belong. You sent me an illegal international port key, once again violating the laws of two magical nations. Oh, never mind the two counts of abduction."

Rasalas glanced at Brady. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore won't mind you borrowing his fire. Fire-call the DMLE here, ask for Amelia Bones. From what I understand, she'll help straighten this out rather quick."

"Got it."

"I don't give—"

"But you will," Rasalas said, frostily, "I mean, we could just call on Fawkes, but this might be more entertaining, watching the English ministry tear itself to pieces. I'm pretty sure they don't want to end up at war with both Canada and the United States because of us, no?"

Brady looked at Dumbledore, and when the man didn't move to stop him, he knelt at the grate, and tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fire. "Ministry of Magic, DMLE," he called out, then stuck his head in the fire.

Dumbledore watched the man for a moment.

"You've taught him well."

"Yeah, considering you're a threat to him," said Rasalas, "So. Why am I here? What made you decide to once again violate international laws?"

"There are a number of things we have to discuss, Mr. Black, though first I do pass on my condolences on the passing of Sirius, and I do mean that genuinely."

"Thank you."

"You might be wondering, why it is Voldemort has fixated on you. I think it is fair you learn of those reasons—"

Brady pulled his head back out of the fire. "Mrs. Bones is comin' through."

He stood up just in time for the flames to roar a brilliant green, and an older witch stepped out of the fire, with two Aurors in their familiar crimson robes immediately following. Madam Bones was a broad, square-jawed witch who, to Brady, looked forbidding.

"What are you playing at, Albus?!" she thundered, "Merlin's ghost, are you truly trying to start a war?!"

"Amelia, it was—"

"Don't 'Amelia' me, Albus! This is twice now that you have meddled in Mr. Black's affairs, and twice now, that you bring unwanted international attention due to your unhealthy interest in him!"

She turned to Rasalas.

"Do you wish to press charges?"

"No. Not at this time. Though next time, count on it. This is your last warning, Professor. Stay out of my affairs, or you will regret it, I promise you. I have a rather short shit list, and you're close to being added to it."

"Very well. If you'll come through the floo with me, we'll get you back where you belong," said Madam Bones.

She turned back to Dumbledore. "I expect a letter of apology penned to both the Canadian Ministry of Magic, as well as the American Department of Magic, and a magical oath that you will not attempt anything like this again."

"And I'm tempted to demand a written magical contract that you stay out of my affairs altogether. Something like this happens again, I'll begin with that, I think," Rasalas decided. "Thanks to this little stunt, I'm missing the afternoon's training."

"Training? In what?" Dumbledore wondered.

"Don' think that's any of your business, old man," said Brady, nastily.

Rasalas gave a nasty smirk. "Agreed. I think we're done here. Oh. Should you ever attempt to abduct my friend here... I'll take that very personally, as will he."

Madam Bones activated the fire, and stepped through.

"Last warning, Professor. Mind your own business," said Rasalas, dangerously, before he and Brady stepped into the fire themselves. The pair of Aurors followed, before the fire returned to normal.

In Madam Bones' office, Rasalas once again found her apologizing for the headmaster's actions.

"It's well in hand, Madam Bones," said Rasalas, "Though somewhat frustrating that he persists. Either way. This is Brady Gibson. He saved my life back in September, and he's become one of my closest friends. Brady. Amelia Bones, the DMLE head here."

As they shook hands, she asked, "You're a Muggle?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Non-magical. It's more polite, madam," said Rasalas, looking annoyed.

"Forgive me. Old habits and all that. Now, Mr. Black, you have my sincere apology on behalf of the ministry, for our treatment of you, and of your godfather. You also have my condolences."

"Thank you."

"Let's see about getting you home."

Madam Bones pulled a tennis ball out of the pocket of her robes, and tapped it with her wand. "Portus."

It shimmered blue a moment, before falling still.

"I'll also send along a letter explaining the circumstances, since this will drop you at my counterpart's office in Toronto."

She went over to her desk, pulled out a page of parchment, and quickly scribbled out a note. She then folded it, and affixed it with her seal.

"That should cover any issue they might have with the pair of you. I take it you've travelled by port key before, Mr. Gibson?"

"Many times, yeah."

"We travel by port key to training," Rasalas explained.

"I see. All right. Off you go. Again, you have our apologies for the headmaster's meddling. I'll see if the minister might also have a word."

"Good luck with that. Thank you, Madam Bones."

"Take care, Mr. Black, Mr. Gibson."

The pair of them vanished in a blur of limbs.

UP NEXT: Training, a will, and a birthday, oh my!

CHAPTER NOTES: Poor Dumbledore. He never learns, no? Have to wonder, how's he gonna deal with having to address Harry as 'Sir Rasalas'? That's coming in the future.

(1) Taken from Pg. 163, "Deathly Hallows", Canadian soft-cover edition. Mostly verbatim.