Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the Beta work
Chapter 9
Seth collapsed the tunnel as they stepped back out into the streets of Surrentum. No one around them seemed to notice as rubble filled the small hole. He turned sharply and started walking back toward his home. Harry followed, lost in his own thoughts as he walked. He nearly collided with a woman rounding a corner before he realized he should pay more attention to where he was going.
Seth seemed to have the same idea as he slowed his steps and started to talk.
"You did well in there," he said. Harry paused and looked at the man, letting him get ten or so steps in front before he thought to catch up.
"I lost," he said. He recognized the sense of shame that filled him as he admitted it. After all of the training and all of the practicing, he'd been ineffective at the first real chance to use it.
"Sure," Seth agreed in a more reassuring tone than Harry had ever heard him use. "But fighting a vampire with both hands tied behind for your back isn't an easy fight."
"You were fine," Harry said.
"And one day you will be too," Seth responded. "Your shockwave would have killed it if it wasn't behind a threshold. I would have taken a far more liberal approach to the use of fire than you did. But otherwise it was a sound enough strategy."
"I would have liked to do better," Harry admitted.
"You did exactly how I expected," Seth said.
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult," Harry responded.
"It isn't either," Seth said. "You thought well on your feet although you started slow. You adapted under pressure and managed to improvise well. I'm sure you didn't think you could conjure a flame in that moment so you summoned the closest one instead?"
"Something like that," Harry said.
"Clever," Seth responded. "It's always easier to work with something that you have rather than to conjure it."
"I know," Harry said. He paused for a moment and asked. "How did you kill them?"
"Fire," Seth said. "Started it inside their brain. It's an efficient method for killing most anything but works absolute wonders against vampires."
"I bet," Harry said, thinking it would have been something useful to know. He frowned after a moment though. He had known that. He'd been told that directly. Even Lockhart had mentioned it. It just hadn't clicked while he was in the middle of the fight. "It didn't look like you were doing anything.
"It did not," Seth said.
"Why is that? Shouldn't fire look like, well, fire?" Harry asked.
"If you want it to, sure," Seth said.
"You don't want it to?" Harry asked.
"I don't care. And in the long run it didn't matter. They were only going to be alive for a couple of seconds longer. Why bother being flashy about it?" Seth said. He turned to Harry and it didn't take more than a moment for him to recognize the confused expression. He sighed and reached out, poking Harry on the temple. "Magic comes from here."
"I know," Harry said. "Intent, thought, I get it. We've talked about that."
"So you think fire and you get what you think of as fire. But it doesn't matter, it can appear however you want. I've never been flashy. I don't see much of a point to it. It's like the excess hand waving and pointing most immature spellcasters use," Seth said.
"I see," Harry said. He frowned at that. Spells had always had a shape and a color to him. But there had been nothing like that from Seth. He let the conversation fade as he pondered what it could possibly mean as they walked the final steps to Seth's home.
When they entered Seth walked straight to the atrium. Elena's body rested on a wooden pyre that had replaced the fountain in the middle of the room. They'd put her into a nicer dress, made of soft blue silk, than he'd ever seen her wear. But they'd never had much cause to dress up. All of her wounds were gone, her skin appearing to be a perfect porcelain in the dying light. Seth must have done it, he thought, all while he dealt with the vampires, walked back home, and maintained a conversation.
Seth only peered into the atrium for a moment before moving toward his bedroom. Harry couldn't bring himself to walk away. He didn't want to move away. He'd grown accustomed to having her around when he wasn't training with Seth. And the thought of leaving her alone sent an unfamiliar pang through his stomach.
He knew he was being stupid. But it didn't matter. He couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He walked over to the pyre and traced a hand over the wood as he walked its length. Her eyes were still open, staring up at the sky with nothing behind them.
He couldn't help himself. He wondered about her fate, if there was more he could have done, if all of this was somehow his fault. He ran through everything from the last few days in his head, looking for anything that could have spurred her to that alley, or anything he could have done to keep her out of it.
There wasn't much he could come up with, short of keeping her in bed for longer. The thought sent a pang through him as it came. Was that really all she was to him? Was that all he could have done? It made him feel sick, like he'd done nothing more than use her for the short time he'd known her.
He wasn't sure how long he stood in the atrium staring at her body. But at some point Seth walked in with Renata and Tulia. Both the girls were crying as they approached the corpse. Moments later Delia and Mila joined them. And then the rest of the household slaves.
They formed a circle around the pyre. Harry found himself pulled into the crowd and realized that he felt like an utter stranger in that moment. He wasn't even sure how long he'd known Elena for. And here he was being pushed to the front of the group.
After a few moments, Seth started to speak. He reminisced of her, complimented her, and talked of things she enjoyed. He spoke of how she was loyal, devoted, and a wonderful person to be around. He spoke for a couple of minutes, drawing a laugh here, or a sniffle there, as he went through memories of her. He ended by mentioning that she'd always loved thunderstorms. He peered up at the sky as he spoke.
Harry felt magic rise in the area above him. He turned his gaze to the sky and saw billowing black clouds form overhead. Moments later lightning streaked the sky, followed by a near instant clash of thunder. The rain fell then. But a bubble of protection spread around Elena's corpse and the people in the atrium.
After he finished, he pressed Renata forward. She had tears in her eyes and took a moment but she did manage to speak. She talked of friendship. They'd been close for years. And sure, they'd clashed on a lot of things. But they were always there for each other, through anything.
She was crying openly when she finished talking. She took a few steps backwards toward Seth and leaned against him. Delia spoke next, commenting on how she'd always felt Elena was like a younger sister to her and how she'd followed her around for a year wondering just what she was supposed to do in the household, trying her best to be helpful when her attempts often weren't.
Other voices chimed in every few moments after, saying various things about Elena. But Harry found himself lost in staring at her corpse. The anger wouldn't fade no matter how much he tried to push it away from his mind.
He almost didn't notice when all the eyes in the atrium rested on him. He realized they were expecting him to say something. But just what he should say he had no idea. He opened his mouth and an odd croaking noise came out. It took a second attempt before any words came to him.
But the words felt empty when they came out. He didn't know what he should say. And everything that came to him felt cheap. But he said it nonetheless. He hadn't known her long. But in the time he'd known her he'd found her to be kind, caring, sensible and a great person to have around. And, when his words wound down, all he could say was the simple truth that she deserved far better.
When he finished speaking, he turned to see Seth looking at him. The man nodded toward the end of the pyre and Harry took his meaning. He moved toward the opposite side as Seth placed two coins over her eyes. Harry watched as Seth reached for the pyre, grabbing one of the logs. He mimicked the other mage. A moment later he could feel magic rising from Seth and it didn't take him long to realize what the man expected.
He spared one last look at his lover's face before he let the magic flow through him. He felt the fire flow from his hand and onto the pyre. He watched as the flames moved through the wood and licked at her body, only turning away when it started to blacken.
Seth walked with him back into the group of people. He put an arm around Renata and held her as Elena turned to ash. Harry looked at them for a few moments before he couldn't stand it any longer. Then he turned his attention back to the fire. He couldn't bring himself to watch Elena vanish so instead he focused entirely on the flames as they flickered.
It wasn't until Tulia tugged on his sleeve that he noticed that everyone else had left the room already. He followed her into one of the side rooms, leaving the pyre to burn itself out.
A massive assortment of food and drink adorned one a table in the middle of it. The slaves were milling around and chatting. Annoyance spread through him at the sight of the food. It seemed wrong to have Mila work so hard after the death of a friend. He was going to snap at Seth. Surely he couldn't be that callous. He looked around to see where he was only to find he wasn't there.
He saw Mila loitering by the table, peering at the food with a curious expression. Harry looked at it as well, raising his brows as he saw it. The table was filled with bowls of rice, fruits, vegetables and sauces. And Harry only recognized about a third of them.
Mila; however, was sheepishly trying a little bit of everything and seeming more and more astonished with each bite. A few of the things she immediately took more of, while some of them she made a face at and moved on. Harry found it all rather amusing and, for a moment, forgot he was annoyed at the entire situation.
Then Seth returned. He was carrying a large plate of what appeared to be spring rolls ringing around a bowl of a dark purple sauce. Harry felt the anger rise in him once more. But as Seth put the platter down on the end of the table, and took a moment to refill a few wine cups and take stock of the food, he realized something else.
He was doing it all. He made the food, he served the wine, he hosted their small little party. He wasn't making the others work, instead he was giving them a night of no worries. He frowned and watched the man for a few moments.
He wondered if Seth felt how he felt. Did he blame himself for the girl's death? Did he think he could have done so much more to stop it? Was he replaying every instant in his head, wondering if being a minute or two earlier would have changed he entire outcome?
Food seemed like the best option to change his thoughts. He moved over toward Mila and started sampling things at the table. The cook started to shovel her favorites toward him and he ate with as much of a fake smile as he could muster. But nothing had any flavor and eating annoyed him.
So he switched to wine. After the seventh cup he started to think that might have been a mistake. He didn't mean to snap at everyone that spoke to him, honest. But he did anyway. At least until he said something to Delia that made her look ready to strike him. At that point he knew he should go to bed.
Or at least that thought entered his mind. Whether or not it was his he wasn't sure. But it felt like a great idea so he left the party in a huff, stalking through the halls toward his bedroom. He decided on the bath about the same time he walked into the room. It took him longer than it should have to conjure the warm, soapy water. And he fell asleep in it. But since he didn't drown, he figured it was fine.
He wandered back into his bedroom and fell face first onto the bed. Part of him knew the yelp from next to him should have been alarming. But his pillow was cold and he was tired and drunk and…He jolted upright and looked at the other side of the bed.
The young blonde slave, Tulia, lay on top of the covers. She wore a thin shift similar to the ones Elena used to sleep in and looked like he'd probably startled her awake when he fell onto the bed.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked.
"Seth didn't think we should be alone," she admitted, looking away from him as she spoke. Harry's jaw set tightly. The man had thought nothing of just sending another girl into his bedroom? Anger knotted in his stomach the more he thought about that.
"So he sent you in here to sleep with me so I'd forget about Elena?" Harry spat. Tulia flinched away from him as he spoke.
"I don't know," she said quietly. Her eyes shifted downward and away from him. He felt his stomach drop as tears welled in her eyes. "I've never done that. I don't really want to. I didn't want to be alone."
"I see," Harry said. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He did everything in his power to not look at the girl sitting on his bed. The room grew uncomfortably quiet as he stared at the ceiling.
"Do I have to leave?" the girl asked, her voice small. Harry didn't respond right away. He kept his eyes on the ceiling as he tried to organize his thoughts. His only real coherent thoughts were that he was still inebriated and didn't think that he was accomplishing anything by, well, being awake. And, really, he was sick of thinking. So he shook his head and spoke the only word that he could see would get him out of the situation as quickly as possible.
"No," he said. She returned his silence. But he felt her weight shift and rest against the pillows next to him.
"Thank you," she said. He didn't respond. Within minutes he'd fallen asleep. He woke once in the night to find her on her back next to him, her breathing soft and her hair fanning out around the pillow. He stared at her for a few moments as sleep weighed down his eyes.
When he woke in the morning all he was left with was a splitting headache. He pulled himself from bed and worked his way to the bathroom. An hour later he found himself dressed and in the kitchen. To his surprise, Mila wasn't there. But there was enough random fruit and bread that he managed to create a breakfast.
He was finishing a chunk of bread as he walked into the atrium. Seth was there, floating above the fountain with his eyes closed. He spoke as soon as Harry crossed the colonnade.
"You're late," he said. Harry tensed as the other man spoke, finding himself annoyed by the entire situation.
"I didn't realize there was a set time," Harry said.
"There isn't," Seth responded.
"Then how can I possibly be late?" Harry spat.
"How could you be on time?" Seth asked.
"That still doesn't make sense," Harry said.
"Sure it does," Seth said, not bothering to explain himself.
"Enough," Harry said, willing the tension to leave his shoulders. It didn't work. Seth tossed a sword to him. He caught it with magic when it was inches from his head. He let it float in front of him for a few moments before he raised his hand to take it.
Seth came at him then, lunging with an overhead slash. Harry darted away as the older man pivoted and slashed the sword back at him. He shifted behind a column and managed to slash toward Seth as he emerged on the other side.
Seth parried the blow and thrust back at him. Harry knocked the sword out of the way and charged at the other man, only to be turned aside by some quick footwork as Seth slipped around him.
They continued the dance around the atrium, the banging of the wooden blades echoing through the villa as they fought. It was different than usual, Harry thought as he dodged away from a wild swing. It felt less contained, a wild air lingering in their movements. He slashed toward Seth's legs and pressed onward, hoping for any sort of advantage, hoping to hit the man.
The thought gave him pause. A pause long enough that Seth managed to slip behind him as he lunged. He only just had time to duck underneath the blade.
This time, he realized as he swung his body around, letting the sword lead his movements, he wanted to injure the man. Anger welled up in him and his movements seemed go quicker, more precise with each moment. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears as he felt the world slow down.
This man before him. This mage, now disguising himself as his tutor, had let Elena die. He could have stopped it. But he hadn't. Harry couldn't fathom why he'd done it. Had he simply been bored with her? Had he been jealous of her interest in Harry? Was he simply so lazy that it made no difference to him? All Harry knew was that with that much power, he would never let the world play out around him when he could instead foster change. But that was exactly what he'd done. And he deserved to pay for it.
Harry felt his magic amplify his movements as he slashed once more at Seth. Force emanated from the wooden blades as they collided. Harry felt a wave of it burst around the atrium as Seth parried the blow and forced him onto his back foot. Harry was only off balance for a moment though as the magic spurred him on. He could tell it was helping his movements, his thoughts, his everything. And he knew that should have concerned him. But at that point he didn't care. All that mattered was making the man before him hurt for letting Elena die.
He charged at Seth, slashing against his sword, pressing forward with a ferocious energy he didn't fully recognize. He flung himself into the combat, hardly thinking with each clash of the wooden blades. He ignored the soreness in his arms with each hit, he ignored how winded he felt, he ignored the vibrating thrum of anger that spread through him. None of it mattered. He had to hurt Seth. And that was all he was going to do.
A quick series of slashes, fueled primarily by his new found aggression caught Seth off guard enough that his footwork faltered and Harry saw his opening. He raised the sword above his head and readied his strike.
And then, as he started to bring the sword down, he saw Seth pivot. In an instant the man slid away from him, slipping completely around him. A moment later his world exploded in pain. His vision flashed white as the sword first impacted into his ribs. He tried to swing around and counter but before he even started to move Seth's blade hit him square in the back of the neck. The world flashed white again as he felt his legs slide out from under him. Everything changed to black as his head hit the ground.
He felt a coolness rush through him as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry so he adjusted his glasses and blinked Seth back into focus. The man stood over him, looking down at him with a curious expression. After a moment he offered his hand.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked as Harry took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
"You let her die," Harry said.
"That's one way to look at it," Seth agreed.
"There's other ways to look at it?" Harry spat.
"I let her live," Seth shrugged. "Without my intervention she would have had a much worse, and much shorter life."
"Until you decided to let a vampire kill her," Harry said.
"I didn't let anything happen, Harry," Seth said.
"You could have stopped it," Harry spat.
"Sure," Seth agreed, "If I had sequestered her in the house and never allowed her to do anything amusing. Or if I had spied on her constantly. Then she would have been at considerably less risk from outside threats."
"That's not," Harry started but Seth kept talking, almost as if thinking aloud.
"I'm sure she would have loved that. Spending the rest of her life trapped in a villa and under my watchful gaze. Sounds like a thrilling time for her. Would you like that to be your entire life as well?" Seth commented.
"You could have done more," Harry said. The fight was fading from him with each word. His mind went back to the Dursleys. He'd been miserable there for most summers. But the worst had been when he'd been locked in the room. He couldn't wish that fate on anyone. But despite that he didn't want to agree with Seth.
The other man's expression stayed blank as he stared. After a few moments he took a deep breath and let it out in one long exhale.
"I could have," Seth agreed and with a pause added. "I should have." Harry felt himself tense as the anger came running back. Something inside him screamed that this man was nothing but a failure. That all of his pain, all of his longing, was entirely Seth's fault. And that he should take it out on the man. He looked at Seth, who looked away as soon as their eyes met.
The anger flooded away from him as soon as it had come. The man before him looked broken. His blue eyes watered and his shoulders slouched as his gaze turned toward the hall where he knew the slaves all had their rooms, as if he expected Elena to come sauntering down at any moment.
"It's a balance, isn't it?" Harry said, his voice quiet. Seth let the words linger in the air for a few moments before deciding to respond.
"They need to be allowed to live," Seth reiterated. There was a snort from the corner. Harry felt himself tense as he spun to face the noise. He saw her standing there, still dressed in a very basic blue midi dress. He hadn't seen the specific dress before but she'd worn similar during their time in London.
"How long did it take you to come up with that one?" Circe spat. Harry closed his eyes as she spoke, wondering if it could possibly be her. But there she was, a blip in the front of his mind before him. There was an almost calming sense of security as he focused on it. Like something about it felt right.
"Who are—" Seth started. But he paused for a moment.
"Circe!" Harry exclaimed. He turned to look at Seth to gauge his reaction and saw the other man's eyes narrow as she shook his head.
"What did you do to yourself?" he asked. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, genuine disgust in his voice.
"None of your business," Circe said.
"Perhaps not, but you're a shell of yourself," Seth said, his features relaxing. "It's no wonder the boy was incompetent."
"Hey," Harry said, glaring at Seth. But his affront only lasted a moment before he turned his attention to Circe and added. "It's good to see you again I'm glad nothing happened to you."
"Harry is fine," Circe said, choosing to ignore Harry's greeting. "Well above average for his age."
"I suppose," Seth shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sure I can fix the damage you've done to yourself."
"Don't you dare," Circe said.
"But you look awful," Seth said.
"How I look is none of your concern," Circe said. She turned her gaze to Harry, her eyes beckoned him to join her but he didn't move. "How long has he had you stuck here?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "How long have you been in Surrentum?"
"A few hours," Circe said.
"How long were you in London after I left?" Harry asked.
"I was pulled through the portal maybe twenty minutes after you," Circe said. Harry frowned at her. Something about the portal stuck in his mind. Something about what he'd been doing when he'd gone through it, what he'd seen. But he couldn't place it at the moment.
"Weird," he said, to no one in particular.
"How long has he been here?" Circe asked, turning her gaze to Seth who seemed to still be sizing her up.
"About twelve days," Seth said. Harry blinked when he said it. That number couldn't be right. It felt so much longer than that. He would have guessed at months.
"What?" he voiced as he started to count back the days in his head. "That can't be right. It has to be at least triple that, if not more."
"It has taken you longer to pick up on most lessons so I've reset a few days and slowed a few days. As long as you have your basic structure of three distinct meals and a section of sleep you don't seem to have any issue. I figured you'd noticed but didn't see a need to comment," Seth said.
"That isn't…possible," Harry said. Although given that he was standing in Surrentum during the Roman Empire he felt rather silly for arguing that.
"You were already involved in time magic with the portals. I didn't see the harm in it. And it seemed like a good idea to maximize your time here to you could learn as much as possible," Seth said.
"Of course it seemed like a good idea. It was yours," Circe spat.
"Exactly," Seth said.
"It's just another form of imprisonment and control! How can you not see that. How is it always the same with you?"
"He could have left at any time."
"Only because you don't actually care. Only because you were just using whatever you were doing as an excuse to entertain yourself. Nothing he said or did mattered to you, did it? You're just using him like you did me!" Circe yelled. Seth's eyes flashed blue and Harry felt a thrum of power from the man. He spun to put himself between Seth and Circe and saw that the older man's jaw was shut tight. When he spoke it was through gritted teeth.
"Careful Circe," Seth said.
"What? You don't like the truth so you'll threaten me? Hoping to cow me into submission?" Circe asked. This time Harry felt the power flare from her, as if she was readying some type of magic.
"I will remind you that you are in my home. And that you were uninvited," Seth said.
"That doesn't matter. Your threshold is weak," Circe said.
"But if you were to cause a scene I would be honor bound to return you to your father," Seth said. Harry felt the power Circe had channeled vanish immediately as the color drained out of her.
"You wouldn't," she said quietly.
"I would prefer not to," Seth said. "But you of all people should know I would do my duty."
"I hate you," she spat.
"I know," Seth said. "Now I believe it's time for lunch."
"Of course," Circe sighed as Seth walked out of the atrium and toward the kitchen.
"What?" Harry asked.
"That's just so like him," Circe said. "Why have an argument when you could have an argument over food."
"I mean, I am hungry," Harry said.
"I'd suspect so after the beating you took," Circe said.
"You were watching that?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"I can't believe I didn't notice you," he frowned. "It feels like I should have noticed you."
"You were focused elsewhere," Circe responded.
"Fat lot of good it did me," Harry sighed in annoyance. Circe raised her brows at him.
"You did quite well, all things considered."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"He's faster than you, stronger than you, and has almost infinitely more experience than you. By imbuing yourself with magic, even unintentionally, you made it so he had to put forth effort. That's more than most can say," Circe said.
"What about you?" Harry asked.
"I made him bleed once or twice," Circe admitted. "But my tongue was always sharper than my blade."
"How?" Harry asked. Circe shook her head as Seth took that moment to poke his head back into the atrium.
"Are you coming?" Seth asked before disappearing again.
"We don't have to," Harry said.
"You don't have to," Circe said. "I do."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"It's not about lunch or food. Well, superficially I suppose it is. But he's offering me hospitality. If I become his guest then he won't be honor bound to do anything stupid. Like inform my father I'm not trapped on my island," Circe said.
"I don't think he'd do that anyway," Harry said.
"I don't either. But it seems silly to not close a loophole when you can. And if he's cooking it will at least be worth it," Circe said. She started walking after Seth. Harry followed her.
"Why don't you like him? He doesn't seem that bad to me," Harry said.
"He's evil," Circe responded.
"He has a different view on most things," Harry said, his mind once again being drawn back to Elena. "And he's a bit passive in his world view, I guess. I'm not sure I'd have the same mentality if I could do what he seems to be able to do. But I don't think he's evil."
"He's evil," Circe said as if her opinion ended any possible argument.
"Are you going to explain that or is your opinion fact?" Harry snapped. It came out harsher than he thought. Circe half turned over her left shoulder to look at him, her brows narrowing.
"My opinion is fact," she snapped right back before continuing into the kitchen.
"Then elaborate upon why that is so," Harry said, trying his best to come up with something he could picture a Malfoy saying.
"You don't want to know," Circe said.
"If I didn't want to know I wouldn't ask," Harry spat as she entered the kitchen. Circe ignored him as he followed her into the kitchen. Instead, her eyes lingered on the small table in the middle of the room. She inhaled once, deeply, seeming intensely satisfied for a moment before turning her gaze to Seth.
"You're making that?" she scoffed.
"Of course," Seth said. "Unless you had another request."
"No. It's still my favorite," Circe admitted before adding. "You could always just give me the recipe."
"Then you wouldn't need me to make it," Seth said.
"I hate you," Circe said as Seth shoveled what appeared to be rice in a bowl and then filled it with a light brown stew. Harry walked over toward Seth and looked at what appeared to be gumbo in a giant pot.
"That doesn't seem like something of the era," Harry said.
"He cheats when it comes to food," Circe said. She glared at the food as if eating it admitted some sort of defeat. But after a moment she gave up and started on it. "I could never find half the ingredients."
"We all have our vices," Seth shrugged.
"That explains the cookbook in London," Harry said as Seth handed him a bowl as well.
"I like to pop around. Never took long to get rather sick of cuisine of the era. Although Mila is a talented chef for her time. I've let her do what she likes lately rather than get involved myself," Seth said.
"That feels dangerous," Harry said. Seth shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm hardly the only one in this room who's been flippant with time," Seth said.
"We didn't have a choice," Circe snapped.
"I taught you better than that," Seth said. Circe snorted and turned her attention back to her food. Harry thought she looked rather petulant as she ate it. He suspected that deep down she agreed with him but that she would never admit that.
"What?" Harry asked, finding himself. He ignored the glare it earned him.
"There's always a choice," Seth said. "It's not always a good one. It's not always a reasonable one. But no matter what, you always have a choice."
"I see," Harry said, ignoring Circe's snort of derision as he pondered the truth in that as he fished a chunk of chicken out of the bowl before him. He continued to eat as he reflected on the words, but it was Circe that spoke.
"That's crap and you know it," she said.
"It's about taking responsibility for your own actions," Seth sighed in a way that made Harry think they'd had this conversation before.
"Or making people feel like they're responsible for their own victimhood," Circe snapped. "Sometimes bad things, or even good things, happen. And there's nothing that you could have done that would change the result."
"Perhaps," Seth shrugged, seeming to concede the point. Circe blinked at him, as if confused that he didn't argue with her. She went back to eating as Seth turned his attention back to the pot. Bowls started to fill themselves and float off to different areas of the house. Harry watched him for a few moments before the silence became uncomfortable.
"So how are you?" he asked Circe. She raised her head from the bowl and peered at him.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Last time I saw you, well, you wouldn't come out of your bedroom," Harry said.
"I was dealing with something," she responded.
"Care to share?" Harry asked.
"No," Circe said.
"Helpful," Harry said.
"It's none of your business," Circe said. Harry rolled his eyes and speared a chunk of sausage from his bowl.
"Lie," Seth said.
"I didn't ask you," Circe snapped.
"Obviously," Seth sighed. "But given that only one of the three of us has spent centuries researching and using time based magic, I assume my expertise would be welcome."
"I don't want, or need, your help," Circe said.
"I'm interested," Harry said. And he was, too, no matter what Circe, or really Seth for that matter, said. He still couldn't see how learning more, how understanding more, could be a detriment.
"Don't encourage him, otherwise he's insufferable," Circe said.
"And you're as stubborn and annoying as ever," Seth responded.
"Yes, people that don't blindly agree with you are stubborn and annoying," Circe said.
"Correct," Seth replied. Harry let out a long breath. Already he could tell this was going to continue until he stopped it.
"Enough," Harry sighed. His word came out harsher than he'd anticipated. Both Circe and Seth turned to look at him but he had to have imagined that they sat up straighter for a moment. "I want to hear what he has to say."
"Fine," Circe said. Harry watched a flush rise in her cheeks and she looked back down at her food. She didn't take another bite though, instead she ran the spoon in circles around the bowl.
"Well then?" Harry said, turning to look at Seth. The older man had his brows raised as he looked between the two of them. His expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke.
"If you both triggered the magic," Seth started.
"I triggered the magic," Circe said.
"No," Seth sighed. He pinched his nose in annoyance, like a beleaguered teacher who's student just wasn't grasping the point. "You didn't."
"Yes I did," she argued. "I cast the spell."
"Sure, but you used Harry to do it. You used his focus to think of a destination and you used his magic to have enough power to do it. From the spell's standpoint," Seth started.
"Magic isn't sentient," Circe interjected while still stirring her food. "I don't care what you think."
"Pardon me a turn of phrase then," Seth sighed. Harry glared at Circe but she refused to make eye contact with either of them.
"Go on," Harry said.
"The short of it was that if you were both there, and both of your magic was involved then it isn't a stretch for it to pertain to you both," Seth said.
"So?" Harry asked.
"So, what is important to Circe is important to Harry. And what is important to Harry will be important to Circe. Closing yourselves off will not get either of you home any sooner. If there's something to see, if there's something the magic wants to show you, then it's almost guaranteed to be something you both need to understand," Seth said.
"And you would know?" Circe said.
"In terms of theoretical study and practical experience I have both of you floored," Seth said. Circe stiffened at that. She stopped stirring her food and looked up at him, her eyes blazing golden as her jaw set tight.
"You told me temporal magic was impossible to control and only a fool would try it," Circe said.
"I did," Seth agreed.
"You told me that it was too complicated, too intricate, too confusing, and too much of a waste of time," Circe said.
"I did," Seth agreed again.
"You told me that you were incapable of doing it," Circe said.
"I lied," Seth said. Circe's glare grew more focused as she stared at him. And then, just when Harry thought she was going to curse him out, to try to hex him, to attack him, she did just the opposite. Her shoulders seemed to deflate as a relaxation of sorts flashed across her eyes.
"Why?" Circe asked, her voice softening for the first time since she'd arrived.
"Because there are things far too dangerous for a teenage witch with immense power and very little understanding of how to use that power or the costs that using it could have upon her," Seth said.
"Of course, the age old excuse of protection," Circe shook her head. Harry's mind shifted back to Seth's earlier words. He wondered about things he needed to see. Things magic was trying to show him? What exactly could that even mean? Did that mean the portals appeared when he understood what he needed from some time period? In that case why did he leave London shortly after finding an abused girl in an orphanage? How did that pertain to him?
"So wherever we were, wherever we go, there's something we need to understand?" he asked. He didn't expect an answer, he was merely voicing his thoughts aloud, hoping they would make more sense when he did.
"That's what I assume. I do have a good track record when it comes to magical theory. My assumptions tend to be proven correct," Seth said.
"I've heard a different saying about assuming things," Circe retorted. Harry felt the corner of his mouth twitch at her comment and it earned her a good glare from Seth. She'd finished eating by then and vanished her bowl with a wave of her hand.
"Finished?" Seth asked. Circe nodded and moved the hand to cover her mouth as she yawned.
"Yes," she said.
"When was the last time you slept?" Seth asked, his brows raised.
"It's been a while," she shrugged. Seth nodded and Harry felt magic flare for a moment and sensed something change in the house.
"Well you should get some rest. We can talk more later," Seth said, his tone becoming almost paternal.
"It's barely past midday," Circe yawned again.
"A bath and a nap will do you wonders," Seth added. Circe glared at him but it only took a moment for her gaze to soften.
"Do you even have any male bathing attendants?" she asked.
"Since when has gender mattered to you?" Seth countered. It took Harry a moment to understand what Seth was implying. By the time he turned and looked at Circe she was shrugging her shoulders.
"Fair point," she said.
"I'm sure I could find someone suitable," Seth said, his eyes flashed to Harry for a moment but Circe only stared at him.
"I'll take yours," she said.
"What?" Seth asked.
"Presumably you don't bother with lesser ones. Whomever she is she should work," Circe said. They stared back, unblinking, until Seth called out.
"Renata," he said in an even tone. About fifteen seconds later, during that time they didn't break eye contact. Renata entered the room after a few moments.
"Yes?" she asked.
"This is an old friend of mine, Circe. Would you show her to a guest room and draw her a bath?" Seth asked. Renata looked confused by the command. She raised her brows at him before she spoke.
"Me?" she asked.
"Yes," Seth said. Renata frowned but after a moment she nodded and turned to escort Circe out of the room. Harry waited for a few moments before looking at Seth.
"That seemed weird," Harry said.
"She is seeing how far she can push me with guest right. I suspect Renata will annoy her more than anything. If she doesn't pout the whole time," Seth said.
"And you're letting her?" Harry asked.
"I don't think either of you will stay for much longer and I'm not sure we gain anything by being antagonistic," Seth responded. He was still looking off toward where Renata and Circe had departed. Harry examined him as he thought about the words. His jaw was set tight and his whole body tense, but there was something about his tone that struck Harry as odd. A sort of longing, almost a sadness permeated from him. With perhaps the slightest hint of jealousy.
"What gives you that idea?" he asked. He found the thought of leaving sent an odd pang through his chest.
"A hunch," Seth shrugged. He turned and walked out of the opposite side of the room. Not sparing more than a glance to Harry as he left. Harry thought it rather annoying, but at the same time he knew their conversation was over for the moment as he had nothing to add. Rather than dwell on it he found himself thinking on Seth's words.
When he'd first arrived, he'd wanted nothing more than to move on and to continue his quest back to his own time. He remembered being afraid of the fact that he'd been moving in the opposite way from where he should be. At least in terms of linear time. He remembered wondering if he was doomed to die two thousand years before he was even born. The thought had kept him up at least one night of his time in Surrentum.
But now the thought of leaving didn't sit right with him either. Sure, his life wasn't here, but, well, what if this was better? Sure that seemed odd in his mind, his friends were all back in England in a different time. But he'd been happy here. He'd enjoyed learning magic from someone else. He enjoyed the morning exercises, the almost nonsensical debates on theory, and the company.
It didn't take him long to realize that he would miss it all when he was gone. And then a different flashed in front of his mind.
Elena. He'd enjoyed spending time with her. So much so that he quite often forgot she'd been ordered to do so that first night. He thought she'd done the rest of it of her own accord, but honestly, he wasn't sure.
In the end, though, she'd enjoyed her time with him. Or at least lied rather well about it at unprompted times. And they'd have fun together. When he thought of her he thought of smiling and laughing and, well, being happy.
But his thoughts couldn't help but take a dark turn. If he'd been happy with her. If he'd loved her. Which was stupid, he told himself, he couldn't have possibly loved her, he'd barely known her. But if all that were true, would that have influenced his decision when it came time to leave?
He didn't think so. But it was an interesting thought. He may have tried to prolong his time there if Elena were alive, at least until he was sure he'd learned all he could. But now? Well, now it just felt off to even still be there.
He wondered if Seth had sensed some sort of extra magic there, or something out of place. He looked around, almost willing a portal to appear in the atrium. But if it were that easy he'd already be home. There was no sign of anything. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath as he tried to sense anything.
Nothing magical registered but he could sense Circe again. He let his mind wander over toward the unfamiliar feeling, to explore the sensation of it. He could tell she was a few rooms over and if he focused more he could sense she was relaxed to the point of being near sleep.
Part of him wanted to explore that situation more fully, to figure out every intricate detail of it. But then he remembered she was likely in a bath and it felt strangely voyeuristic. He opened his eyes and walked to the other side of the house, deciding his time would be better spent in the classroom under the guise of productivity.
The bookshelves garnered his attention when he entered. He was drawn to the bound books with their illegible symbols on them. They still intrigued him. He plucked one from the shelf and turned the pages slowly.
Seth's handwriting was easy enough to recognize even if he couldn't read the characters. Every few pages had another unfamiliar symbol in the top left corner. That, coupled with a bit of spacing before the rest of the text started, led Harry to believe the books must have been journals.
He raised his gaze from the book and peered down the rest of the shelves. There were hundreds of the small books, each of them filled with text. He wondered just how many of his own adventures Seth had partaken in during his years. The image of Seth adventuring clashed with his mental picture of the man lazing his days away in Antiquity. Something about the books felt far more important than logging whatever it was he and Renata got up to on a daily basis.
An unquenchable curiosity rushed through him He closed his eyes and focused on the text. He willed magic into himself. He didn't know what he was doing. But, Seth's voice lectured in his mind, that shouldn't matter. He knew what he wanted to do, and talent, power and belief could accomplish anything.
He let the magic flow through his hands and into the book. He felt it wash over the pages before slipping back up his arms and toward his eyes. The power flowed around him for a few moments. Seconds later, he opened his eyes and stared down at the text before him. The letters shimmered for a moment before they rearranged themselves into English. They hadn't changed, he knew, but now he could read them.
The prose started light, airy. Harry skimmed most of it. He didn't recognize any of the places in it but that didn't matter. He followed an exuberant young man on his trip to a grand city to start on his education. It felt familiar enough. It was a common story.
When he reached the last page of the journal he placed it back on the shelf. He let his hands trace down the bindings of the next few before pulling out another. The tone in it was more somber. Seth's narration more contemplative as he formulated thoughts. His writing felt argumentative, like he was sharing opinions that were not his own as he wrote.
He talked admiringly of another man. A leader of some type but the word Seth used for a title didn't translate. He grew progressively more annoyed throughout the journal and it ended with him openly lamenting the state of everything.
Harry found it annoying. The younger Seth, as far as he could tell, was loved. A star pupil. Someone brilliant and admired. He had everything. But all he did was complain and argue with himself. He moved five or six journals down the line and grabbed another one.
It was worse.
The airy nature of the prose was entirely gone. It read almost like a 'to-do' list. Like he had to remind himself of the most basic things, like getting out of bed, or bothering to get dressed, or making food. Half of it was just recipes. He snapped it shut and examined it, wondering if it was out of order. He slid it back into the spot he'd taken it from and looked at the bindings, matching the numerals.
"You won't find what you're looking for," a soft voice said from the door. His shoulders tensed as he jumped up and spun around in time to see Circe walking into the room. She wore a loose white dress with a very distracting V-neck. Her hair had been intricately braided and styled over her left shoulder since she arrived. She moved next to him, smelling faintly of cinnamon, and stared at the books.
"What?" he asked, relaxing as a tension in his shoulders faded.
"There's five or six missing," she said, peering at the books.
"I see," Harry said. "Maybe he just didn't write them?"
"And maybe the world is flat," Circe said.
"So where are they?" Harry asked.
"Somewhere no one else will find them, I'm sure," Circe said.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"No idea. Presumably because he doesn't want to think about them," she said as she started to pace down the shelves. She traced her nails, which Harry noticed were freshly painted a shimmering gold, over the bindings. "This room hasn't changed much."
"You were in Surrentum with Seth?" Harry asked.
"No. We were in Myonia. But he had a room exactly like this. Down to the door location going into his armory," she said while she nodded toward where Harry knew the portal into the other room was.
"I see," Harry said. Circe paused a few shelves down, nearly to the end of and poked one of the bindings.
"Here's where I show up," she said.
"Have you read most of these?" Harry asked.
"From about eight on I used to sneak in and steal them," Circe admitted. "It never even occurred to me that had he cared if I looked at them, then they wouldn't have been on shelves in public. And that he wouldn't have taught me the language."
"I used magic," Harry said.
"I see that," Circe said.
"What is he?" Harry asked.
"A prick," Circe responded without a moment of hesitation.
"Why do you hate him so much? You weren't this hostile toward him back when we first met him," Harry said.
"He was much older then. Something about being rude then felt petty. Now, closer to when we were…and I'm not happy to see him," Circe said.
"I gathered that," Harry said. "I think we need to talk."
"About?" she asked.
"London….and, well, everything else," Harry said.
"Maybe we should," Circe said. "But I'm not sure now is the time for that conversation."
"It isn't," Seth said from the doorway. Harry turned to look at the older man. Circe turned as well, but her gaze stared off toward the atrium instead. Harry followed her gaze and then felt the magic she was looking at.
"There's a portal in the atrium?" he asked.
"Yes," Seth said, his tone sad as he looked between his two students.
"Let's go then," Circe said. She moved past Harry and strode out of the room. Harry followed a few steps behind her. When he stepped through the doorway into the atrium Seth spoke again.
"Harry," he said. Harry turned to face him.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Good luck," Seth said. He looked like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to be involved more than he was.
"Thank you," Harry said. The words felt insufficient on his tongue. He pressed his lips together before adding. "Really, thank you. I enjoyed your lessons. They were…something else." Harry frowned as he finished speaking. He couldn't find the best words to use to describe it. But Seth chuckled softly and smiled at him.
"I look forward to whenever we meet again," Seth said. He offered his hand to Harry. Harry took it.
"Me too," he said. He spared one last glance at Seth before joining Circe in the atrium. She stood next to a shimmering silver portal. Harry thought he caught glimpses of an island when he stood near it. There was a pull coming from it, a weak compulsion trying to get him to continue on. He looked at Circe and before speaking.
"You didn't just go through it?" he asked.
"No," she said. "Not going through one alone after what happened last time."
"Fair enough," he said. He offered her his hand. She hesitated for a moment but reached out and grabbed it. They stepped in unison toward the shimmering silver mass and once again Harry found himself pulled somewhere new.
Author's Note: As always thanks for reading and reviewing. I am available on PAT RE ON now at TE7Writes and would appreciate any support you are willing to give me. Every little bit of it does let me spend more time on this hobby.