Card the moon
Chapter 50 – The end? Not hardly
… Replacement
Dumbledore smiled. It was a thing he hadn't done much of that year. Oh sure, he wore a smile on the outside, but it wasn't genuine. This one was genuine.
"I must say, your credentials are quite enviable."
"That's very kind of you to say."
The woman sitting before him beamed. Such an agreeable person, he thought.
"Of course, we were so sad to hear Professor Jade was leaving us. He really was a breath of fresh air around here after Professor Binns," which was the politic way of saying no one was all that upset when Binns vanished. Certainly not enough to try and figure out why.
"He regrets he couldn't tell you himself but the nature of the thing, family matters, you understand."
"Of course, of course," Dumbledore waved it off. "One must do what one must do. Family is very important. Though it was very considerate of him to contact you before he left."
"And convenient as I recently found myself looking for a new direction in life. Being perfectly honest sir, I'd never considered teaching before. Though the more I think about it the more excited I am at the prospect."
"And we shall all be excited to have you," Dumbledore said, and meant. It did after all make his life so much easier. "We shall look forward to seeing you in the coming semester Miss… uh, oh dear. Forgive me but I seem to have…"
The woman with the oddly reddish hair laughed, "That's quite alright," she said. "We have only just met." Genially she extended her hand, and Dumbledore found himself momentarily captured in the depth of her eyes. Depths he had never seen in one so young looking.
"It's Berylite. Miss Berylite."
Dumbledore accepted the offered hand, "Then I shall look forward to working with you, Professor Berylite."
… Calling
Built upon the old, that's London. It's an old town, built on an old town. A town full of deep places, forgotten places, lost places.
Those that built over what was already there were rarely careful of what they were building over. Many things got pushed down, down, down, deep into the earth. Lost. Forgotten.
In the deepest wretched depths, something older than London, older than Britain, older than every kingdom of man that has ever walked the earth, came to life.
It wasn't much of a life. I single blinking light, an indicator that its expiration had at last been reached, it could do no more and its occupant needed to get out. But said occupant could not get out. Said occupant was barely alive itself.
But the desire to survive is a powerful instinct, it needs no conscious thought to be exercised. And this instinct, to live another day, reached out in ways unique to the occupant, ways that were not constrained by physical limitations.
A single, plaintive call, to anyone who might hear it. 'Help me' it said. 'Help me' it cried, all across London. And all across London, the cry went unheard. All across London, to the suburbs, Surrey, a place full of people notorious for what they chose to hear.
'Help me' it said. 'Help me' it cried. And in the smallest bedroom of #4 on Privet Drive someone, only one, heard it.
…
Card the Moon shall return
