I own nothing. Least of all this.
1:43
I clinked my newest coin against the side of my ice cream dish. Fortescue really did make the best lemon sherbet. I'd have to make it a point to save his establishment if the matter ever came up. But it was hardly the most important thing to dwell on at the moment. For instance, the image of intertwined jade snakes that stared up at me from my hand.
I knew perfectly well there was another meaning hidden behind the whole "poke the hive with a stick' imagery. And it was one that only a very special kind of person, one with a deep knowledge of the lore of the alien race known as the Hive, could ever decipher.
Oryx. The Taken King. Ruler of the Hive race. Bit off a bit more than he could chew when he rocked up into the solar system, parked right next to Saturn, and then attempted to wipe out all of humanity, as well as its ally the Traveler. It wasn't until after the dust settled that humanity realized it had been duped into clearing the way for Oryx's sister, Savathun, to ascend to the throne.
There had once been three rulers of the Hive; Oryx, Savathun, and one more sister by the name of Xivu Arath. Oryx had been the Navigator; charting the appropriate course to ensure the Hive race was the only thing left standing at the end of the universe. The Final Shape, he called it. Savathun had been the Trickster, the one responsible for sharpening their enemies upon each other, only to fall upon the victor in a massacre, thereby "proving" the superiority of both the Hive, and herself. And lastly, there was Xivu Arath. The Warrior. The one who taught the very fabric of Time and Space new ways to kill. And when there were none left to discover in this world, she took her armies, and dove straight into the depths of a black hole to wage war in the next. The last I heard, humanity was still huddled under the shadow of the Traveler, waiting anxiously for the prophesied return of Xivu Arath, and what the inevitable conflict between her and the Trickster Queen would bring.
The irony was not lost on me.
Oryx was Grindelwald. Savathun was Dumbledore. Xivu Arath was Voldemort. And wizard-kind was the Hive.
But where then did that leave humanity? There was no Traveler here to cast a shadow for protection. Aside maybe from young Harry Potter, who was, as I just said, young. Too young.
I sighed. Looks like the job fell to me. Again.
This was gonna take a lot of politics, wasn't it?
If Dumbledore was, as the coin implied, the Trickster, it was gonna take a whole lot more than the exposure of his actions against Harry Potter and Sirius Black to get him tossed out of power. He had to die; there was no other option. But whether or not his image would be needed in the fight against Voldemort to come, I could not tell. And until I could, I would keep the fate of Ariana Dumbledore to myself.
Now, the Tonks', the Greengrass', and the Malfoys were all excellent places to start, but I needed people properly aligned with the Light to back me as well. Otherwise, I could very well go the way of Oryx, excuse me, Grindelwald. So, to start, I knew I was going to have an opening by teaching at Hogwarts. It was the perfect in to build a relationship with the Weasley Twins, and hopefully help both them and me into tons and tons of Galleons. Ron, I intended to keep as far away from Harry as possible. The Twins would do a better job of dealing with Pettigrew, and I really didn't want Ron's study habits dragging down any of the new Golden Group I intended to bring together. To say nothing of his rampant bigotry and all-around stupidity.
The Weasleys were all well and good, but I needed better relations with someone a little higher on the food chain, such as the Head of the DMLE. Amelia Bones and her niece Susan were both people I needed to make a good impression on, if they were going to believe any of what I would eventually be sending their way. Such a delicate balancing act; the Malfoys, the Greengrass', and myself on one end of the scale, and the Weasleys, the Tonks, and the Bones on the other. Shame there wasn't another Light family or line into the DMLE I could…
The Longbottoms!
How could I have forgotten the Longbottoms! Neville's parents were easily healable vis Obliviation of the trauma (further proof of Dumbledore's evil tendencies), and once it was done, that would be who knew how many more Wizengamot votes on my side! Plus, the publicity would add into my plans to expose the deliberate ineptness of the Ministry!
I love it when a plan comes together.
Speaking of things coming together, my earlier encounter with young Harry and Draco had gone splendidly. To say nothing of what came after…
"My father's next door buying my books, and my mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
The witch at Madame Malkin's had been all to happy to set me up once she had realized just how important the rings on my fingers were. The fact I was now standing within spitting distance of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter was just icing on the cake.
It was time to throw a Time Lord sized wrench into Donkey-dore's plans.
"Smuggling, Mr. Malfoy? Slightly cunning. The fact you mentioned it out loud right in front of two people who could report it, including one Hogwarts teacher? Slightly less so. You would do well to remember that bragging of one's ambitions is the surest way to get oneself labeled a Gryffindor, and thus as easily exploitable."
Draco sneered. "How dare you! I'm nothing like a Gryffindor. Gryffindors are all talk and no action! They follow whoever the loudest of the bunch is, like sheep!"
"Quite true, Mr. Malfoy. And you might wish to examine the circumstances to determine exactly who the loudest in the room currently is."
He sneered again. That really can't have been good for his looks. "My father is on the Board of Hogwarts Governors. I'll be sure to tell him to keep a close eye on you."
"Please do. I look forward to meeting him. He and I have some…" I deliberately reached up to scratch my face, "…. business matters to discuss."
Draco looked like he had been poleaxed. It wasn't my fault these rings were so noticeable, was it?"
"You…you're…"
"I know you."
Ah, Harry Potter speaks.
"You're the man that made the headaches go away."
"Well, I do believe I did a bit more than that, but you're welcome all the same. How are your aunt and cousin?"
Harry looked down at the floor. "Aunt Petunia's dead."
Bollocks.
"…I'm sorry about that. What, if I may ask, happened?"
"…The Apocalypse."
"Really? Again?"
Harry nodded. "S'what Dean said too. Said it was someone named Chuck. They fought him. Then they all died."
"…All of them?"
"Aunt Petunia, and Dean, and Sam, and Jack, and Michael, and…all of them."
Bollocks. Double bollocks.
"…Who brought you here then, Harry?"
Draco's mouth fell open at that. After all, there was really only one famous "Harry", wasn't there?
"Castiel. Aunt Jody and Aunt Donna wanted to come, but they had to look after Dudley, you know."
Wait a minute. Castiel, angel wanted by the Men of Letters, and Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived, had waltzed into England, and no one had stopped them?
I spun around to look out the window. Nope, no sign of Hagrid, or any other wizards I recognized.
I didn't trust it.
"Where is Castiel, Harry?"
"Animal shop. He was looking for me a snake."
"A snake? Can you, by any chance, talk to them Harry?"
"Uh-huh. Aunt Rowena said I was special cause of it."
Well, that oughta put Harry firmly in Draco's slightly-less-evil-graces. I will confess the fact Harry had apparently met Rowena MacLeod, someone I knew very well to be dead, worried me a bit.
"She was quite right, Harry. I look forward to having you in class. And who knows? Maybe I'll even be lucky enough to see you in either Ravenclaw, like your Aunt Rowena, or Slytherin, like me."
Draco finally chose that moment to rejoin the conversation. "But I don't understand! You're a Lord! Of three Houses! Why are you dressed like a filthy Muggle!"
Harry frowned at that.
"There are three very good reasons for that, Mr. Malfoy. The first, is I am obviously here to get new robes, am I not? The second is, when it comes to running away from explosions, climbing down tunnels in ancient pyramids, or twisting and turning in the middle of a duel, you can't beat Muggle clothes. And the third, and most important, is this: it makes people underestimate you. That is the mark of a true Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. Your allies follow you because they have seen your power, and your enemies stand facing you because they cannot see past your disguise to realize you are stabbing them in the back. Remember that, Mr. Malfoy. I have seen gods killed because they did not fear the Muggle that challenged them. Gryffindors, the lot of them."
Draco would have said a lot more on the subject, but it was then the shop-witch chose to make her return, and after that it was nothing but measuring and colors.
I tried my best to get done in a hurry (I did want to at least try to meet Castiel, after all), but no such luck. I came in after Harry and Draco, I wen out after Harry and Draco. And by the time I left a few thousand galleons lighter and a few tons of robes heavier (I do so love bigger on the inside pockets), neither was anywhere in sight. Figures.
I had wanted to find out more from Harry, specifically about his dealings with Gringotts and the condition of his soul, but I guessed I would have to settle for pointing him in the direction of the one place I could probably keep a better eye on him; Slytherin. After all, I knew all the buttons to push on one specific Potions Master to get what I needed. The rest I could deal with later.
And oh, wouldn't it irk Malfoy that his son had taken a verbal smackdown from me!
Now, there were two things I had left to buy before I could vacate the premises and track down a replacement Basilisk-killing weapon. Namely, books on Runes and Wards, and a wand.
If I remembered correctly, Harry had gone to Ollivander's last, so I would go there first, wait for him, and then make my book purchases afterwards. I continued down the Alley, looking for a sign that read…
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC.
Bingo.
The door creaked open.
You could practically see the dust swirl in the air, dancing in the beams of light. The rest of the shop seemed to vanish into shadow, an obvious attempt to draw one's gaze into the depths, and away from the owner.
"It tends not to end well for those who attempt to come up behind me."
The cracked voice of Garrick Ollivander echoed in my ear. "Fascinating. You are the first I have ever known to see me coming. It was almost as if you were expecting me. And yet, I think I would remember seeing your face before."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose you would. Now, as you can surely guess, I'm here for a wand."
"Of course. Have you owned one before, or will this be your first?"
"I've owned several before. None seemed to be quite the right match; I had hoped the famous Ollivander might be able to produce one more suited."
"I shall do my best, my good sir. Might I ask, what were your previous wands composed of?"
"As personal as that question is, I shall take it in the spirit you meant it. To answer: blackthorn, yew, and elder for the woods, dragon heartstring, thestral hair, and phoenix feather for the cores."
"Goodness. Three wands. You must truly have an extraordinary temperament for not even combinations of those particular materials to work well for you."
"So I've been told. Can you help me?"
"Of course."
The first one out of the box was… "Blackthorn. Dragon heartstring. As a basis."
I took the offered handle. Instantly, the temperature in the room shot up tremendously. You could just make out smoke beginning to rise form some of the more flammable materials.
The wand was instantly snatched from my hand.
"…I think it's safe to say that wasn't the right fit."
"Yes, yes I think that's true. Oh dear. I very much doubt my shop shall survive this."
He looked positively gleeful as he said it.
"I can reimburse you for any damages."
"Quite alright sir, quite alright. You won't be the first difficult customer I've ever had. Now, where did I put it…"
He shuffled through stacks of boxes, and it wasn't long until he apparently found the one he was looking for.
"Here. Try this. Holly with phoenix feather."
In other words, Harry Potter's wand. Damn my curiosity!
I reached out.
Instantly I was wreathed in flame, with two fiery wings arranged behind me. A shining sword grew out of the wand. The image was instantly recognizable.
I was a Dawnblade Warlock. Oh, the irony.
It was a good thirty seconds before the flames faded completely. When the light finally dimmed, I could see Ollivander crouched on the floor, looking upwards in…awe?
"What are you?"
"Something else. Leave it at that."
He stumbled to his feet. "Very well. But at least, we've managed to find a match for…"
"No. Not this one."
"But…"
"I said NO."
"…As you wish. I can think of only one more wand I have that might possibly work. One I thought I might never sell. Let us see if I was correct."
He disappeared into the depths of the gloom, re-emerging after quite a long while, cradling a very old-looking box almost reverently. "Many years has this box sat on my shelf. Over two thousand, in fact. I hope the time has come for it to finally see some use. Try it."
My fingers gently brushed the handle, and then jerked away.
It had whispered to me.
Slowly, I wrapped my entire hand around the wand. No doubt about it; it was whispering.
In Enochian.
And then, it was no longer a whisper, but a roar of thunder, as the blue crackle of lightning filled the room. In a mirror, I could just make out the reflection of wings once again, made of shadows growing on the wall. And in that roar, and in those wings, I could HEAR AND SEE the story of that wand, echoing throughout all of Time and Space. It seemed an eternity (well, it pretty much was), but when I finally came back to myself, everything was exactly as I had left it.
"…This is the one."
"Yes…yes, I thought it might be…the oldest wood I could find, yew, from a special tree in the Middle East. And for the core, a single feather, from the wings…of an archangel."
I froze. My mouth seemed to very much not want to work, but my unoccupied hand more than made up for it with a pull towards the Last Word.
"…Is that so? Which one, I wonder?"
"Why, the archangel Michael, of course. Who else would stand guard over the most sacred of trees?"
I swallowed. There were only two sacred trees I could think of that an archangel would deem worth guarding, and somehow, I didn't think I'd gotten the one that grew apples.
"So, you were there then, on that day."
"…Yes. I was but a young man, but I remember it well. Unscheduled eclipses and earthquakes tend to leave a lasting impression."
"Yes…yes, I can understand that. So. Another immortal. Great."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far, my good sir. After all, how can one tell if one is immortal without living forever?"
"…Fair point."
"You said you were…something else. Something not human, I would venture to say. Not even truly a wizard. Perhaps, something a bit more…other-worldly?"
"…I'm no angel, if that's what you meant."
"A pity. You would have made a good one, I think. Especially with a wand like that. But, regardless of who or what you may be, it is yours. Many things in life can lie, sir, but the eyes are not one of them. And when you picked up that wand, I could see within them Eternity. You may not be on the side of the angels, sir, but you are for sure one of them. That wand was meant for you."
"…Agreed. How much do I owe you?"
"Not a Knut, my good sir. I ask only, that you honor me with your name. Your true name, not the one you use to walk among us mere mortals."
I considered it. The only real objection I could think of was… "Only if you swear not to tell Dumbledore."
"Sir, all I shall tell Dumbledore is what he has already requested, namely, if the second wand you tried reacted to someone in particular. Beyond that, you have my silence."
"…It'll have to do."
"And, your name?"
"…Witcher. My name is the Witcher. And now, I must bid you good day, Mr. Ollivander."
"Good day to you as well, Witcher. And unless I miss my mark, you shall have many great and terrible things in your future. Many things indeed."
The door creaked shut behind me. Wand acquired, Harry and Draco somewhat sorted, now to wait for…
"You."
Castiel.
"You sent Harry and Dudley. And then you prayed. To me."
"Yes, yes I suppose I did. Castiel. Angel of Thursday. How are you, old bean?"
"How dare you. How. Dare. You. You've stolen the face of the man who was my brother, and the voice of the demon who was my friend. When you prayed to me, I thought…I thought Crowley had come back. And so, I helped those you sent my way. But when they arrived, and they saw Dean…I knew. You may think you're a good person, but deep down you're a monster. A shapeshifter with a talent for pain. And you know what I do to monsters."
He pulled out his angel blade.
Backpedaling, I put up my hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's talk about this! You've got it all wrong! I didn't pick this face! Or this voice! I got stuck with both of them after I made a wish!"
"Lies. Deceptions."
"It's the truth! I wanted to be like the greatest men I knew of, so I made a trade! My soul, for a new body! I just wanted to save people! Look, you can check if you like! Go ahead! See for yourself!"
"If this is a trick…"
"I promise, no tricks. Just, check my soul."
He slowly slid the blade back. A leap forward, and his left arm was around my neck, and his right was buried in my chest. His face went from angry, to confused, to scared, all in the fraction of a second.
"No…how…you're soulless…how are you alive?"
"I told you. I made a deal. I think. I have no memory of it. And no, I'm not letting you into my head to see. I am perfectly capable of noticing if my own memory has been tampered with, thank you very much."
"…That explains that then…"
"Explains what?"
"Why you would burn an entire corporation to the ground, just to turn around and save a family from an abusive man."
"Ima be honest, both of those were for entirely vengeful motives. That corporation thought it would be a good idea to experiment on a friend of mine, as well as other people. I didn't like that. And I'd known about said abuser for a while, that was just the first chance I actually had to deal with it. Hold on…how do you know about what happened to Abstergo?"
"The Assassins you let out. They immediately started dismantling what was left of the Templars around the globe. In the few files they managed to recover was all known information pulled on you, including exactly what you did to them. I don't suppose you happened to recover the Colt from Rikkin's body, did you?"
"Yes and no. Yes, he had the Colt, no, its not in this world anymore. I'd rather not risk the Men of Letters or anyone else getting their hands on it. Let's just say it's with someone I trust and leave it at that."
"Good. Harry told me you were teaching at Hogwarts; was he right?"
"For this year, at least. There's a lot that needs to get done outside of Hogwarts as well, though, so I won't be able to keep as much of an eye on him as I would have liked."
"I can help with that. I'm here for the school year on business as well; perhaps we can trade off responsibilities."
"Perhaps. So long as the business doesn't have to do with Dumbledore."
"Indirectly, yes. Other than that, I'm forbidden to say."
"…Fair enough. I'll give you a hand looking after Harry, and with any business dealings you may have, provided you give me a hand with a few matters that have been brought to my attention in the wizarding world."
"…Deal."
"Thank you. I'm sorry, by the way. Harry told me what happened. Well, part of it, at least. I always knew Chuck was going to go too far one day. How did it happen?"
"…Sam and Dean, they…they sacrificed themselves to bind both Amara and Chuck…Amara showed them how…Jack held Chuck at bay, but didn't kill him…Death didn't like that…Michael stopped her."
"…I'm sorry."
"It's alright. Things could be worse. Sam rules Hell now, with Ketch. Dean and Jack are taking care of Heaven, making new angels. They can't leave, but we can still visit. Occasionally."
"Harry mentioned Rowena. How did he…"
"The ritual. Someone needed to come back to life, from Heaven, Hell, and the Empty."
"Sooooo…who came back from Heaven?"
"A hunter you might have heard of. Ashe. He and Charley have hit it off over computers."
"Yeah, well, considering how much hacking they do, it wouldn't surprise me."
"I assume you were here for a wand?"
"Yep. Isn't she a beauty?"
Castiel froze when I pulled my wand from my sleeve. "Is…is that wand…"
"Whispering in Enochian? Yes. Made from an archangel feather and a piece of a two-thousand-year-old cross? Also, yes."
He reached forward.
"Oi! What are you doing?"
"…I merely wished to inspect it."
"Yeah, well, considering that it's one of Michael's feathers, and when I picked it up for the first time, lighting lit up the whole place, I really don't think that's a good idea."
"…You make a valid point."
"Excuse me." Came a voice from below.
I looked down, into a pair of impossibly blue eyes.
"I've never seen a Time Lord before. Are you friends with the angel? And why does he want to handle your wand?"
There was only one person I knew of who could say things like that and be perfectly serious, and her name was…
"Luna, dear!"
Luna Lovegood. This day just could not get any better.
"Luna, dear, what have I told you about talking to strange people!"
"Oh, they're not strange Daddy! One's a Nargle hunter, and the other's wearing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"
How on Gallifrey could she see my Kephri's Sting gauntlets?
"Oh, well that's alright then! Have they introduced themselves?"
"Not yet, Daddy!"
"Well, get on with it then!"
Luna turned back to us. "Sorry about Daddy, he can be a little strange at times. Now, name time!"
"…My name is…Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord."
"Oh, do you mean him?" She pointed to me.
"No Luna, I'm afraid not. Another Lord. My name is the Witcher, but most people call me Hadrian. Prince Hadrian Howlfang."
"Oooo, a prince! Are you going to save me from my tower?"
"Only if you would like that, Luna."
"I think I should like that very much. Especially if you come back with your TARDIS."
Home run three for Luna Lovegood.
"Well, my TARDIS isn't too fond of alternate worlds, but if I can swing it, I'll come back for you on your birthday in a few years. How does that sound?"
"Yay! A birthday ride!"
Home run four.
"You will come back soon, won't you? I mean, a year isn't very long to stay."
Keep racking them up.
"Of course I'll come back Luna. I always come back for my friends."
Her eyes widened. "I'm your friend?!"
"Certainly. One of my very best friends. In fact, you're such a good friend of mine that when I come back on your birthday, I'll buy you all the pudding you can eat. And then I'll introduce you to someone I know who managed to deep-fry it."
"You know Glossaryck?!"
"Well, let's just say he's a friend of a friend."
The small blonde proceeded to torpedo me in the legs. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! It'll be the best birthday ever!"
I hugged her back. "It sure will be, Luna. Now, I believe you had better get back to your Father."
"Oh, pooh. Catch you on the Flip Side, Mr. Castiel and Mr. Hadrian!"
"Catch you on the Flip Side, Luna."
Castiel and I watched her bounce back into the crowd.
"That was…"
"Luna. That was Luna. Her whole family is psychic; her gift just got blown out of control when she saw her mother die."
"…I see. I suspect some of the matters you spoke of revolve around her."
"Her and her father. He owns one of the two magical newspapers in the entire UK, and since wizards as a whole are way behind the times, the power of print remains very strong."
"I can understand that. Harry should be coming this way soon. Apparently, he made a new friend that is introducing him to a game involving flying broomsticks, and since he has few enough friends as it is…"
"Gotcha. Well, I've got quite a lot of books to pick up from Flourish and Blotts', and then I believe ice cream afterwards, so I believe the next I'll see of you should be at the bunker."
"You know where the bunker is?"
"I hacked the Templars, Castiel. I know where all the bunkers are. Oh, and you may want to pick out a wand for yourself. Wizards have the ability to teleport ridiculously far away using it; they call it Apparition. Should be a somewhat viable replacement for your wings, if there's actually a wand you can use."
"…Thank you. But I have to know, why? Why are you so…unlike…other soulless people?"
"…Because there's another soul I have tied myself too. It's not perfect, but it keeps me out of the deep end. Catch you on the Flip Side, Cas."
"…Catch you."
Thank Gallifrey there had been enough copies of books for me to buy two of each; one set to store at the bunker (temporarily), and one to carry around in my coat. It wasn't a perfect solution, but when I left, I fully intended to add on to the Old Girl's library. Volumes from other worlds were severely lacking, after all.
I sighed, and put down my spoon. This really was excellent ice cream. Shame I wouldn't have time to enjoy much of it in the month to come.
"Why, Prince Howlfang! Such distinctively rugged wear! Do you, by any chance, have ties to the Muggle world?"
Speaking of time I was most definitely not going to enjoy…
I faked a smile. "Please, Hadrian, Miss Skeeter. After all, we're all friends here."
