Act Two Chapter Three: The Moon III
Hello again,
First off. Happy Christmas Everyone. Did I time this chapter to be released today? Well, when I saw what day it was yesterday I wrote the last thousand words and edited this chapter for my present to all of you.
Next, if someone thinks I am talking about my thoughts on a certain country in this chapter I am not. I do not wish to talk politics on the web. Next, I have Harry make a comment. He will never be a blood supremacist. But, he is a child who spent a lot of time with people who feel that way. He is impressionable.
To go back to the dialogue being weird this chapter despite being longer in word count also is six pages shorter than the last one.
Review time.
Astolfo83
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy what I write in the future as much as what you have read. I will continue! Forever until I die.
(Astolfo is best girl and that's the best part)
Urgazhi
I am glad you like what I am writing. Many people remark about my good use of things like atmosphere and emotion, this makes me very proud as a writer.
To the Blacks, well the next school year has not yet begun. It is resolved before then. Act Two is the entire summer before the second year. Act Three is Second Year. Act Four is all of Third Year and Act Five is Fourth Year. Then the next book will be posted.
For Daphne, well that is for Act Three.
Tracy will be resolved at the end of Act Two.
I hinted at how he passed, but I will be straight forward now. He failed every class's but got A's because of how little practical work actually counts in first year. He was pushed up like a child in no-child-left-behind.
Thanks for reading, hopefully, this matches the standard I have set.
On to the normal spiel.
Please review. I do love to get those reviews; they make me feel good. As always, I need a beta. Who has read this the longest? I remember the days when I saw ten people read my story in one day and went, WOW. I still remember how awesome that first review was, all ten months ago.
Rights are to JK Rowling and Warner brothers. Please write a review, feedback would go a long way to improve my work. I don't care if you want to tell me I am the worst writer ever (if you do please tell me why and what I can improve) just tell me what you think!
The man who strode through the doors appeared shy of middle age. He adorned a crisp robe of pale white with blue gloved hands. His grey eyes weighed heavy as they scanned over the room, growing upon seeing the child stood by the bar owner's side.
"Henri," his jovial voice lept over the morning patrons mussing. Quick steps crossed the distance between as he sized the young boy up from an arm's length away.
"Harry, actually. I failed to keep up my little act around a week ago." Harry blushed.
"Is that so? Well, no harm no foul." He turned his attention to Abe. "Thank you for keeping him out of trouble."
"Trouble is that kid's middle name. No amount of my 'keeping' would stop it." The adults laughed at the expense of the small child. "Look out for him, OK?"
"You got it, boss." He gave a thumb up motion and waved for Harry to follow him out the door. Alistair leapt from the counter to land softly upon Harry's shoulder as his arm pulled the trunk behind him. As they stepped into the morning, the sun kissed Harry's smiling face.
Once again, a bright change was met on The Sun.
The streets of Hogsmeade failed to produce much life. As the early morning progressed, the denizens of the town stayed in their quiet homes as life did not begin until they served lunch. It came down to the simple fact that wizards were a lazy bunch. When they wished to grab, they used Accio, when they needed water, they used Aguamenti. They lacked the refinement of effort into the small parts of life, simpler to wand wave cares away.
An option never in his reach.
His magic was wounded from the start. The malice of darkness tainted it, so the common spells most used were unaffordable to himself. He could push the magic through, only to bleed the channels it passed. His circuits were composed for pushing magma through. The cold flow of water cracks them and annihilates them.
Alastair had repaired the initial damage forcing the improper magic through his veins had caused, working in tandem with the man striding on his left without the old man's knowledge. Harry knew he suspected, but whether or not he knew was a different matter.
"What's the plan." Harry broke the silence that currently blanketed the street. The walk lasted half an hour as they moved further from The Hog's Head and closer to the populated side of town.
The way they set the township up relied almost entirely on the Hogwarts Express. That and the shoppers that frequented Hogsmeade Village. With that being accounted for, the town split into three distinct districts. The shopping, storage, and residential. Shops like The Three Broomsticks or Melisandre's Necessities, the appealing sorts, were nearest to the station while the less popular shops were further removed and closer to the residential. The three-ring pie was miss cut, however, with the storage distract being larger but sharing less edge space with the other districts. Tucked back there was his former stay, The Hog's Head.
Normal folks living within the housing district did not view frequenters of The Head well. Neither would those who traversed the popular shopping district. As a result, Abe's pride and joy stood tucked between a food storage unit and a hardware company.
New customers were a rare find. The Head evolved into somewhere you only frequented if you knew someone already there.
Poor advertising Abe, poor advertising.
Much like his bar, his personality could use a coat of paint.
"We are going to the ministry for an international portkey." The elder spoke with practiced speech. His rich baritone carried through the street over the sounds of doors being opened and staged benches being set. Twenty minutes until the first train arrives.
The Hogwarts Express was strange in that respect. A trip that took hours for the children attending its namesake could travel the distance in only one. Why would the station choose to limit its gold flow for such a frivolous purpose of transporting children?
The only thing worse lived in the shadow of Hogwarts.
Hogsmeade Public.
A school, which the government paid for, attended students who could not afford a prestigious school like Hogwarts. Some families sent their children to Hogsmeade Public from as far as London. Subjecting the children to an hour-long ride upon a train named after a school they could never dream of attending.
Harry saw how someone like Weasley was teased in the halls for his monetary situation, but they had no clue. Living in Hogwarts left him blind to the truth of the world. At Hogwarts, he was the one percent.
Harry lived with rags and hunger. Starvation and misery. He assumed when he entered this world it would be the same. He would be the bottom ring of society. To claw for every scrap he could. He still heard the complaints of Weasley, of how poor he was. How sad his life was.
It was pathetic.
The one's exiting the train weeks after the Hogwarts students had left were the ones deserving to complain. They walked in the shadow of a school that lived in a castle. Near one of the premier education centers worldwide only to attend a brick building that appeared closer to a prison. The truth in the society he lived in was simple; those with employment received something few others did, galleons. The problem with magic was how it broke the society it was placed in. Magic could easily solve jobs necessary in the muggle equivalent with elementary education. Products that were required on that half were redundant on the magical half. Cleaning solution: have you tried Scourgify? Little did Harry notice, at first, that this problem worked in reverse. No one needed the cleaning solution, thus no one bought any. This meant no one needed to make it. But also the bottle. The resources needed to build it were unnecessary, and thus they did not have jobs.
The end result of this broken society was a dual-class system. The top fifty percent who worked.
With the bottom fifty struggling to live.
Why then did the children disembarking from The Hogwarts Express appear so happy? As they walked to school with book heavied satchels, they bore no ill will to the towering fortress behind them. Did they not understand the horrible system they lived in? A broken system pushing them down. Where the right connections let you live in society's top? Where people complained about the poorness they had when in reality they lived like a king compared to the regular populates?
No, they smiled because they made peace with it. This is how it was. Magic society promised that anyone could be anyone.
Harry remembered The Leaky Cauldron, his first instance there, which felt like a lifetime ago.
"Those filthy Mudbloods are taking all the jobs."
How wrong was it of Harry, that he agreed?
The Moon.
He now understood why the trip to Hogwarts lasted hours, and why many of the current compartments had shades closed. Traveling through warped space made one nauseous to watch the flow of bent land roll under their feet.
Nic was passing the time with a book written in English. A muggle text about quantum physics. Written by Edward Teller.
The compartment continued its silent journey through the station and out into London proper.
The Moon.
Kings Cross station bustled with energy as the pair maneuvered the mid-day crowds. The station did not reach the compact levels of the morning commute nor the evening, but a steady stream of people moved between platforms of the old building.
And Nic blended in too well.
The man walked, not fast nor slow. He flowed from place to place as naturally as water striding perfect steps. Harry kept an eye trained on him at every moment as he slithered through people without stopping or bumping anyone with a blank expression. As they stepped, the crowds dissipated. The tile gave way to paving as they marched south from the trains. A small sound echoed over the land that none paid mind to.
For the first occasion in his eleven years, he saw constructs of muggle design that rivaled wizards. They passed a shopping distract larger than Diagon Ally, and on the other side of the river stood a humongous wheel. The waters reflecting the steel back to the crowds below it. On his side, the clock stood. The gigantic beast watched over London as if a giant eye atop a tower, its ever-watchful gaze keeping the town safe from harm. The longer they walked, the larger it grew, towering over the people who carelessly walked below.
"It's huge," Harry whispered causing the chaperone to turn his attention back to the boy, brief shock glancing on his face to turn into a grin.
"It really is." He smiled with a perfect set of teeth displaying. Harry responded with a rumbling stomach. A slight blush brandishing his features. With an overdone huff, the man gestured his hands wildly, "Didn't he feed you?"
With another grumble Harry kicked a bit of trash at his feet, "He may have forgot. We were a little busy."
"Then we will have to get food soon, can it wait for the portkey?"
"It can wait for the new year." Nic smiled again, rippling a slight chuckle.
"Alright, our stop is this toilet."
"I do not consent."
"I question how you'd even think that." He deadpanned back.
"I always tell Albus I am mature for my age."
"Well, compared to Albus you are as old as I am, maturity wise." He stopped and watched people pass by. "The other option was a telephone booth, but the walk there was much less," he stopped to watch Big Ben let out a loud chime as the hour passed, "magical." He sounded as it passed, a brilliant light hanging in his eye.
The Moon.
For a bathroom it smelled fresh, unlike a sewer and more akin to a sanitary room. An aura of cleanness resonated in the room. This fit within the disguise, for the bathroom instead was a hidden place for wizards, an entrance to the main ministry building. Stepping up to the low to the ground toilet, he pulled the long chain.
Vertigo.
The sensation of standing over and watching the drop. He bared himself over the ledge as the world gave way around him, nonexistent wind tickled his ears as he sensed moving down. Like an elevator in freefall, his stomach turned and twisted, threatening to wrench up acid. Perched on his shoulder, his devil laughed at the sensation as the flow of magic guided their path.
The feeling was so different from that of his teleportation, less invasive or harmful. Yet still, the pressure fed into his core, the unfamiliar magic traveling paths it was not meant to go. He pushed it from his wanting circuits, preventing the fire of pain that would have followed the traffic, fighting to keep ridged he pushed his own through.
Nic was standing feet away as they looked upon the blue stone all around.
The atrium mirrored King's Cross as he witnessed it earlier. Given the size of Hogwarts, he assumed the population of the wizarding world mirrored the small school. Knowing Hogsmeade was the largest wizarding town in the entirety of Briton only helped that, seeing its smallness.
Then he remembered important facts that before slipped his mind.
1. Hogwarts was a premier private institution.
2. Hogsmeade was the largest only wizarding settlement, twenty times its number lived in London alone.
The crowds shuffled the mono-color walls as many traversed to the long line of Floo station's stretching past his event horizon. With the drop of coinage, a handful of powder would drop from the vase, allowing them to travel home for lunch.
His stomach growled again.
The urchin upon his shoulder tensed its muscles and Harry's hand jetted out before words could be uttered, "Not in public." Harry's toad croaked in response. The walk through the lobby was much like the one above ground, the pair swerving through the faceless masses with Harry's trunk dragging behind. Above owls flew clutching letters in their talons and passing through small nooks carved many feet above.
In the center of the atrium, a magnificent fountain stood, taller than a house stood a golden wizard clutching a grooved wand and holding it high for all to see. A cascade of crystal-clear water flew to the ceiling above before crashing back into the large pool below. Growing closer saw other statues emerge, smaller than the wizard and staring at it in wonder. Other sentient life each lofted around the wizard as goblin, centaur, house-elf, and more he could not name stared at the wizard with hope in their golden fake eyes.
The statue showed lies.
No goblin looked at a wizard like that. A centaur standing below one? An impossibility, they only peer into the heavens with such longing. Passing the statue showed a witch mirroring her companion dressed in a smug smile.
Was it right to subject those below you? Those with less power?
The Moon.
The portkey room lived within sub hall on the sixth sublevel of The Ministry of Magic. He thought back to class; should he be using a portkey. They were dangerous, what if what happened with apperation occurred here as well? Nic did the talking, and the pair passed into the small room titled France. Alone, they waited until a woman joined. She was plump with black hair with a shade of violet, a stunning color he had never seen.
"These modifications to the coordinates check out." She said in a disbelieving tone.
"Why would they not?" Nic responded.
"Just that coordinate puts you at the gates of…"
"Well, walking there now would be difficult."
"Fine," grabbing her wand, she cast a series of spells. Minutes passed as her eyes forced more concentration into her casting before finishing the chant with the word 'portus.'
"Thanks ma'am," Harry called as she was leaving the room.
"You are very welcome, young man, now have fun in France."
"Will do."
A fireplace he had forgotten spat a green color, letting Nic and him know to grab the unassuming rope before them.
The world spun.
Much like the toilets, his view shifted while the pair stayed in the same localized space. No floor to stand on had them free-falling into the shifting void. Colors flashed and the only sound was the ever-constant rush of wind as the kaleidoscope constructed and destroyed itself around them. After an eternity, which saw a fraction of time, the rope stopped and Harry laid on the ground, a thumping headache crushing his skull.
It was green, the soft grass which tickled his nose. After rolling over the clear blue sky let itself be known as the rushing spinning faded.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Nic filled his vision, his white robes like a cloud above him.
"I will be. Does the world ever stop spinning?"
On his left, a cough made itself known. A small red creature the size of a hand curled on itself, wings covering it like a veiny leathery shell. "Thanks for the warning, old man." The scorpion tail strained as the creature stood extending its wings and revealing its horn crowned head.
"I did not expect the easy trip to sicken a demon."
"Devil, old man."
"Yes yes. Whatever you are, you are not… legal, to keep, so be a toad you vermin."
"Die already, old man, so I can take your soul." He shifted into the familiar form he wore, the red eyes haunting as he stared into Harry's new guardian's.
"Ok, I am up." With a slight kick, he made it so. Turning to look at the gargantuan gates before him. The slotted fence allowed one to see the villa beyond, a four-story mansion of white and blue with windows covering more than siding. Acers of guardians stood between the gate and the building as several robed individuals strolled through the flours, usually being a boy and girl.
From his pocket, Nic drew a key. Waving it before the gate let it silently slide open, allowing the two to enter. After passing through the guardian and through the Entrance Hall, it greeted Harry with a familiar sight. The same round tables, open windows, and bird call all crashed into his mind. The pain of death, the warmth of her skin, and the mindless chatter filled him with Déjà vu.
"Scourgify."
Nic cleared the ground at his feet of the bile he spewed. A slight nod to Nic let him know he was alright as Harry fought the personality of Henri. From a front table, a large woman stood. Walking up to the duo, she opened her frame to invite Nic into a hug. Nearly doubling Harry's height, she leaned for it.
"Olympe."
"Master Flamel. It is an honor to have you back in our halls." Around her students whispered, a brilliant light of wonder filled them as they pointed to the man. "And Mister Potter as well, I am Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of this hollowed school. It is our pleasure to host you this day." She bowed to him as a flush entered his face. The whispers grew heavier, causing his control to falter.
The-boy-who-lived. Every eye housed the name. The name that belonged to him alone. A name bestowed by Tom in his failed attempt at murder all those years ago. He hated it. The constant reminder of his unknown family. He hated them for parroting it, believing in a false hope he provided.
"Thank you, Headmistress, for your hospitality. I am so famished and would love some lunch." He smiled, Nic knew it was fake. Nic wished for him to establish control before he would break eye contact. He left willingly.
The Moon.
He sat next to a blonde man. His face stone in a twist of displeasure. He emanated hatred in a way only Snape could rival. Why did the man hate? What was the start of his discord? Following his eyes led Harry to a sight he wished not to see. A blonde from Henri's memories. Her sight alone gave a slight coughing fit, the feeling of moisture collapsing into his lungs.
He ignored her in favor of lunch, an impressive-looking thing to be sure. Rather than the assortment of Hogwarts, each student here ate one dish which was individually prepared, no choice but to eat what it was. Today was the aptly named rooster in wine. The course tasted well enough and had plenty of flavors. But compared to a simple stew or fish and chips, it failed to compete. Harry carefully matched Nic's movements, not striving forth with each portion of his meal until the old man did.
Nic was a very deliberate man, he also took his time.
He spoke in hushed tones to the Headmistress, speaking of accessing the library. When the important details had been settled, the Headmistress spoke to Harry. Not needing to turn or wrap around Nic to succeed, Harry looked into her large eyes. Her eyes were a soft brown, like the grassless earth days after a hard ran, soft and inviting.
"You must be quite the young man to catch ol' Flamel's attention." She spoke in well-practiced English.
Scratching the back of his head, Harry curtly responded, courtesy to courtesy, in her home tongue, "I would not say that. I think you could best call me a failure of magic." He let out a small chuckle. Make her comfortable. Jokes do that. Right, Tracy?
"Non," She had a smile on her face realizing the joke.
The only true joke was how he did not lie.
"And what does Master Dumbledore have you study?"
As Harry opened to respond, a fork full of chicken pushed itself into his mouth. With wide eyes, he store at his guardian. Gripping the chunk between his teeth, the man pulled out the fork to use as a weapon against the Headmistress, thwapping her on her forehead. Pointing the weapon at her, he chided her, "No using students for information." The giant crossed her arms and, pouted. She attempted a similar pose to Tracy when in the common room Daphne did not share chocolate.
A strange look on someone over eight feet tall.
"I am sorry, Mister Potter." She spoke to him again. Her pout ending much sooner than Tracy's would have. And without the victory. He waved her off.
"No problem, Headmistress. I wasn't going to share, anyway." He glared at Nic. He was going to say something. That infuriated him more. The victory in the elder's eyes told Harry he knew.
"I have duties I must attend, please swing by my office when you leave. You can use my Floo for your upcoming travel." She bowed to the elder wearing a young face, then back to Harry. "Please come again, Mister Potter, hopefully with more time to speak." With little fanfare, she left.
He failed to reply to her when she left, holding nothing but a blush.
"Come, we are going to the library." He aged; he was becoming tired.
He followed. Ignoring the stares of the masses as the legends departed. He never glanced back at The Flower. After leaving the doors, an explosion of sound occurred.
As they walked the beautiful halls, he thought back to what Olympe had said. Why did Nic take him? The immortal had lived a lengthy life, so why Harry. To name him his child in the eyes of law.
He was just Harry.
The Moon.
Nic worked his way into the forbidden section of the library. He walked with a pouch which ate book after book that the man skimmed. Harry was not allowed within. Harry being an outsider, even accompanied by someone as prestigious as Nic, was prohibited from the mountainous realm of forbidden books. Instead, he was stuck in the general area.
He chose a book a few years beyond his capability. A magic theory text on the ways to use magic. It explained the reasoning for Latin and other older languages for spell casting. They were constructed in a time that humanity was closer to magic, where it flowed easier. When humans were better than today.
Something happened. Something caused the ancient world's malfunction, for the separation of human and magic to occur, a break. What it was, Harry did not know. Maybe he should speak to Professor Binns in the following school year? Perhaps he even solved his problem with the spirits.
Further in it spoke of how one used runes in casting and creation. Intent mixed with concrete symbols, expressionism mixed with orthodox constructs.
The circle he drew. His blood dripping from his mangled arm. He drew the symbols, those of Greek and Egyptian he knew, but the other foreign ones he only drew with a name. Harry wanted Alastair back, his friend, his savior. He needed Alastair back. The thought brought him to a dream in a tower. A face he could not recall, but the words rang from his lips, reading the line from his text he could never understand.
Within the circle, the toad burst. From within the gore, something emerged. Something sinister with glowing red eyes. "Do not worry, Harry. I am here for you. I will save you." It overtook him with blackness.
Harry blinked back the memory. He did not need to remanence while learning, it would be counterproductive. He tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes to refocus, but his mind wandered too far to accomplish the feat.
"Oh, I am glad you are still alive." A musical sound reached his ears. It tried to ease him, but unlike Fawkes, it could not succeed. Its power lagged behind the bird. "You stared at that page for so long I expected it to erupt in flames." She spoke in English, though not well. Her accent overwrote many of her words, and she flipped into French to speak many of the verbs. She ended her statement with a wholehearted laugh.
She was similar to Fawkes. Her form being made of positive energy. Looking at her showed only beauty. She was young and mature, with fine features, pointed cheeks, and a slim nose. Her eyes appeared a bit large and the tips of her ears elongated slightly.
Her energy hated him, however. Being near burned at him, the flow of her magic crawling into his body, starting where he sent most of his magic in practice.
His eyes.
Her magic burned him; the pathways rejected her magic. But, unlike the magic he fought against the Headmaster for, this foreign obstruction hurt. He shut his eyes, but the energy instead attacked below his skin, against the lines that had been purged of unkind magic before.
He forced it out. Unlocking the damn which suppressed, he flooded his body, purging the unknown magic and filling the spaces with his own. Opening his eyes had his mistake too soon revealed.
He overloaded his body with his magic, letting it out for the world to see.
And he flooded his eyes with magic and only knew one output.
He forced his way into the mind of Fleur Delacour's shaking form. Seeing within the eyes holding fresh tears.
The Moon.