AN: Hello, faithful readers.
I want to apologize for my absence. I know I said I'd come off of hiatus in November and haven't posted since, but to summarize the past few months;
Sometimes Life's a Bitch.
That is all.
AN: I did some more research and discovered a flaw in my logic. I knew Phonographs/Gramophones used wax cylinders, but I know that wax cylinders tend to melt and distort the sound and even then, can only play-back about 10 times before the recording distorts permanently.
Because of that, I opted to try to have brass cylinders instead (it's more permanent and would've been readily available at the time), but that didn't exist in normal society. So, I figured Slender would just have some kind of connections with an inventor in the Underrealm who had an invention that would "read" the wax cylinder while simultaneously transferring the grooves into a hot, soft brass cylinder for later playback. Just a bit of imaginative leeway, not too important.
The light notes of a piano drifted around the enormous room, occasionally popping and hissing irregularly. Three figures were together at the head of the room, a stack of roughly organized papers around them.
One figure opted to sit on the marble steps winding upwards. Another dragged an old chair from the side of the room towards the center as well as an end table to hold his papers next to the small device playing music. The last was perfectly fine lying on his stomach against the cold marble floors, with his papers in a scattered mess around him.
For a while, the scratching of quills against parchment was the only thing heard aside from the music, then it finally wound to the conclusion. The figure in the chair leaned towards the phonograph and pulled off the needle from the brass cylinder and opened the box to the array of cylinders there.
"Ugh!" The figure on the floor moaned, "Isn't there anything more modern? Metallica, Black-Eyed Peas, heck, even that freaking Beaver kid if we've got it."
The figure in the chair browsed through the collections before selecting one with a grin, "Well, this one is from the 20th century-"
"Play it!" The floor figure pleaded, desperate to escape another Sonata, Sonatina, Symphony, or whatever-other-s-words-there-are-for-music from another long-dead guy in a powdered wig.
The figure hid his smirk as he put the cylinder in the slot and the needle found the groove. A slow, lethargic, almost whiny brass section started playing out the horn accompanied by a high, female voice.
"Shiiine on, Shine on Harvest Moon… for me and my gaaaal…"
Nick's interest fell faster than a lead brick. He turned to Adrian in a deadpan. "And just what is that?"
"Music from the 20th century, like I said." Adrian replied, struggling to hold back a slightly wise-cracking grin. He turned over the little information card from the cylinder and read, "This was recorded in the 30s, but the song was first published back in 1908."
Nick rolled his eyes and fell back on the floor as the voice continued. "I ain't had no lovin' since Ap-i-ril, Jan-uary, June, or July."
"I meant something after the 50s at least. , the Eagles, heck we're in Britain so the Beatles, too."
Harry grinned at the figure flopped on the floor, "I think by then, they'd either had vinyl records or digital recordings."
Nick groaned, and looked up at Adrian, "What's the most recent thing he's got?"
The amnesiac glanced through the collection, "Looks like he's got something from the 40's, aside from that he's got nothing."
"Nnnnnngggggg, Sleeeennnndy." The bug-enthusiast whined. "I can't wait until EJ gets a boombox or something working. Then it's Greenday, AC/DC, and sweet, sweet Adele all day long."
Harry just shook his head as the last of the ancient recording wound to a close and Adrian automatically put in another Chopin Nocturne, getting another resigned moan from Nick.
They were working in the abandoned remains of a ballroom in a forgotten corner of the castle, surprisingly well-hidden. The room had floral decorations in an elegant, swirling baroque style, with a marble floor and pale blue walls, faded with years of disinterest and stained glass windows letting in some of the evening light, flecks of refracted color drifting above the inlaid floor patterns.
The walls were decorated mostly with curving candle sconces (the candles themselves long-since reduced to wax stalactites) and occasionally a shield or crossed swords with a simple coat of arms. Though, there were a lot of subtle fleur de li patterns interspersed. Tarnished silver mirrors took up any loose space, and made the room seem even bigger.
The ceiling had a faded scene of Heavenly clouds and cherubs in the excessively baroque romantic style. A single massive chandelier still hung above the ballroom, it's twin having crashed decades ago, cracking the floor around it on impact and leaving a twisted wreck of silver and gold surrounded by a spray of crystal shards.
At the end of the boarded-up large entrance door was an enormous, grand organ embedded in the walls. The marble stair steps Harry was sitting on led up to the keyboard at the top, hidden behind a column with the connecting pipes artistically incorporated into the wall and alcoves above.
Sally found it on accident, exploring during her 'shift' while avoiding a Prefect's patrol and a few stray ghosts' wanderings. The room's entrance from the outside was covered in old, rotting wooden boards, but curiosity got to her and she pulled off a few before the doors opened and she saw the interior (and subsequently danced around the "Beauty and the Beast Ballroom", as she put it, for a good portion of her shift).
Adrian did some subtle digging into the history of the place and it turned out it was a gift from the French Ministry to Britain to "promote greater ties" in the mid-to-late 1700s (and also a last-ditch effort by a few upper-class French nobility to try to gain increasingly reluctant British allies due to increasing tensions that would eventually lead to the French Revolution). The British Ministry allowed it to be built in Hogwarts and after it was completed held a large ball with all of the higher-ups and notable characters in their respective fields rubbing elbows.
Then, of course, the Ministry never acknowledged it again and it fell into complete disrepair as even the rest of Hogwarts completely forgot its existence (and as a result, the upper class of France was largely on its own to the mercy of the National Razor).
Harry picked up the next sheet of paper from the pile and glanced over it, "Sounds like Professor Flitwick is going easy on us for now. He just wants us to write about our ambitions or goals."
The other two pulled out the assignment to follow along. The resident corpse grinned, "Well, my goal is 'enjoy the afterlife for all it's worth', but I can't exactly write that down." He tapped the quill to his chin for a second, "How about; graduate, get a job, meet a girl, die."
"Well, that fulfils a minimum standard, I guess." Adrian conceded dryly, trying to contain a snicker. Harry was outright giggling uncontrollably. They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, the scratching sound of quills writing out their essays accompanying (another) classical piece.
After a few moments, Nick put aside the (minimalistically short, but effectively passable) essay and pulled another sheet from the stack. He groaned, "Wow, McGonagall doesn't waste time. Already a 'foot-and-a-half of parchment' on something. Is that even a standard unit of essay writing?"
"It does offer the loophole of just writing really, really big," Harry conceded, tapping a quill to his essay parchment.
The corpse grinned, "Yeah, just write in big, 6-inch-tall letters 'What I learned in Transfiguration Class is Blankity Blankity Blank'."
Nick hefted over the textbook and mused, "You know, I never really thought magic would have so much studying."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Really? The massive shelves of books in practically every single image of a wizard wasn't a dead giveaway? Plus those huge tomes they carry around everywhere?"
Nick shrugged, "Well, I know that, but it didn't really transition over. I thought there were more magical methods to it. Like they'd have ridiculous memory or just 'absorb' spells like in video games. Then, you just cast Magic Missile every other turn until someone beats the game while you're still at the Tavern getting drunk and seeing how high you roll on Luck with the bar-wenches."
Adrian looked up, "Seriously?"
"Yeah, my parents moved for a temp-job and I got roped into D&D with some guys I met at the High School there. Needless to say, they never invited me back. On the plus side, I got to eat my weight in Cheetos and Mountain Dew. 'Twas glorious!" He said in his best 'He-Man' voice echoing in the ballroom.
Harry grinned while Adrian just rolled his eyes and moved on to the next paper. He huffed tiredly, "It seems Snape doesn't pull punches either. Two sheets of parchment on the properties of Mandrake extract."
Harry grimaced, "He seems like really bad news. Did you see how he singled me out?"
The two undead boys nodded. "Maybe it's not personal or anything," Nick suggested, "Maybe he just… doesn't like famous people or something? One of those 'you have not truly earned your fame' kind of dickwads."
"Don't let them hear you say things like that," Harry warned, "I heard from the upper years that Professors have a spell to wash your mouth out with suds if you curse." The corpse grumbled more colorful vocabulary about his thoughts on that.
"Still," Adrian redirected, "What should we do about him? Poison?"
Harry was about to retort, but paused a second. Eventually, though, he shook his head, "No, we can't murder professors in broad daylight. He's not on the Job List and, even then, I bet he has one of those 'buzzard' things from class to clear out poisons."
"It's 'bezoar' (the next homework asks about it) and, even then, we can get… creative," The wraith suggested, barbed wires unfurling from their 'tattoo' forms and poising around him, jagged metal tips swaying ominously like charmed snakes.
Nick nonverbally agreed as a few more-lethal species of insects and arachnids started crawling out from his hair, collar, and sleeves clicking their mandibles eagerly.
For the briefest moment, Harry considered this… and sighed, "No, Slendy would know."
That immediately shut down the plan and they, grudgingly, returned to the potionmaster's essay assignment. They worked like this in silence, mostly focusing on work while sometimes fantasizing about getting away with increasingly-elaborate murder plots. Eventually, the sunlight started fading from the windows and they decided to move back towards their respective dormitories.
A few students were ambling around that evening, but just before they were about to separate to their respective dormitories a voice rang out in the hallways.
"Mr. Potter, there you are."
They turned to see Professor McGonagall walking briskly up to them, looking both relieved and frustrated. "Mr. Potter, I've been looking all afternoon for you. Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office. I am to escort you there."
"I see," Harry replied neutrally, "Alright. Bye guys." The two undead boys nodded and said their goodbyes as the shortest of the trio walked away with the stern witch.
They rounded a corner as the two shared a silent glance, nodded once, and followed behind.
Jeff grumbled under his breath as he swiped a mop across the kitchen tiles. He screwed up on his last mission and as punishment he got sent to clean-up duty. Totally unfair. How was he supposed to guess they had CCTVs in their home?
Either way, Slendy had to get involved and destroy the video footage before the police could snoop around. It still didn't get him out of this chore, though.
He squeegeed the mop in the bucket next to him, waiting a until the last few drops dripped out. He picked up the bucket and shuffled to the kitchen sink, careful not to spill on the floors he'd just mopped. He hefted the container high enough to pour the watery, red visceral soup into the drain.
He set the bucket down and looked back at what was left.
Some blood spatters on the walls. Some guy blew another guy's brains out in the hallway with a shotgun. Crap, that's wallpaper too (stuff's impossible to get blood out of). He'd need a scraper for the brain bits. The floors still had residual blood leftover on them that he needed one more mop-over before it'd be good enough. The guy on the kitchen table had his guts ripped open, so the tablecloth would need to be burned or buried.
And that was just the immediate kitchen.
He sighed, tiredly, "This blows."
"Hey!" Toby walked in, carrying a plastic bin full of guts and gore. "Think we can keep this until Halloween?" He lifted up a length of bloody intestine, still dripping.
"Nah, it'd rot by then," Jeff replied, "And even if we stored it in the fridge Seedeater, Rake, or EJ would eat it before then."
Toby shrugged and hefted the bag to a swirling, dark purple-red vortex of maliciousness and evil in the corner of the room. Every now and then, eerie whispers or wails would be heard from beyond it. He threw it in with a 'whoosh', watching it be consumed and disappear into the Void.
Underneath it was a small stone, occasionally sending mini-lightning streaks up into the portal, the mauve rune glowing ominously. Drilled into the side of the rock was a small, bronze sign. "Thank you for using an approved Incinerator Portal (design and copyright courtesy of the Aperture Corporation). Useful for all crime disposal needs. The Council would like to thank you for your efficiency and service. [Reminder; do not place anything or anyone valuable into the portal. In the event of accidental exposure to or entrance into the Sulfury Void, please contact the number on the back. Side Effects include headache, nausea, dizziness, disorientation, severe burns, loss of contact with reality, loss of soul, demonic possession, and, in some rare instances, death. Do not store above 75 F. Wash with similar colors. Warranty only valid within 3 weeks of purchase]."
"How's the fumigation going" Jeff asked.
"Still think it'd be better with fire," Toby remarked casually, but he pointed to a small, flexible metal hose snaked into a hole in the wall. Some noxious-looking green gas was diffusing in the area around it. Within minutes of the gas being active, some rats, cockroaches, and a pigeon roosting in the eves had dropped dead and were picked up by the visceral janitors.
The main infestation, though, were these small black and white beetles.
They were a common-enough pest. They were about the size of a fully-grown cockroach, but fatter and wider with had a black and white shell with a sketchy black eye pattern. Though underneath the hard wings was an actual human-sized eyeball swiveling in the insect's abdomen, essentially making up the entire creature's form.
Those little guys had this weird hive-mind psychic link thing going for them. They rarely made up hives any fewer than a couple dozen and tended to stick around places that were pretty much abandoned. They would poke around at night or during darker hours to generate a psychic 'pulse' that would create an intense feeling of being watched and pheromones released only increased levels of anxiety, anger, frustration, depression, and paranoia.
Normally, most animals that wandered into their territory would succumb to the brain damage and hurt themselves or each other. But problems started when humans got involved. The bugs weren't dangerous per se, as in they weren't venomous nor would they swarm a person and consume them like the freaky scarabs in the Mummy. But humans got… creative when one or all of them go into a psychic-bug-induced psychotic breakdown. Case in point, the guy with his guts hanging out on the kitchen table and the exploded head in the hallway.
So, from the report they got, a bunch of stupid college kids go into some abandoned house in the countryside rumored to be haunted. That in itself should be a major clue of "Don't f*cking do it". College kids and a creepy-ass house in the middle of nowhere is a cliché but inevitable start to a horror movie franchise that goes on way too long and gets worse with every roman numeral slash mark added to the title.
After the would-be college graduates got in, everything went to Hell in a handbasket.
They probably felt like they were being watched and eventually started hallucinating, making them doubt reality and each other. This, in turn, leads to one of them either going somewhere private and doing the "sideways tango" with the promiscuous cheerleader type and getting killed mid-way in an I-totally-saw-that-coming death or freaks out early and goes completely postal on them.
This one seemed an unpleasant mix of both.
But the last guy standing seemed like he eventually took his own life after the fact in some horrible movie-plot-twist where "I was the murderer all along!". He admitted that maybe he'd been watching too many horror movies on Movie Night at the manor.
In the end, the bugs come out of the woodwork to enjoy their meal once everything's quieted down. A few tears and bites could be seen on a few corpses, but the beetles scattered when they came in. After that, and a tube of toxic chemicals later, they were the make-shift visceral cleanup crews for the UnderRealm.
He sighed, willing to bet that Slender requested this particularly lovely job just because of his and Toby's latest screw-up. Though, Toby didn't mind the gross nitty-gritty stuff as much (mostly because he couldn't feel the nauseatingly squishy sensations).
"Oh, hey! Check this out!" His inner rambling monologue was interrupted by Toby. The unfeeling axe murderer pulled out a clear plastic sports water bottle. Inside were a half dozen of the beetles they'd been sent to kill, their eye-organs staring eerily at him from their position on the walls of the bottle.
"Uh, why?" Jeff asked, shifting uncomfortably back and forth as the unblinking eyeballs followed.
"For Nick," Toby explained, "He's always going on about bugs, so I figured maybe he'd make something out of these guys." He clipped the loop of the bottle to his belt with a carabiner.
Jeff nodded and just squeegeed the mop once more before his mind lit up with an idea. He rushed over to the portal stone and picked it up, putting it on the floor by the countertop. A few adjustments and the portal shifted 90 degrees so it was horizontal and more like a mini galaxy of evil instead of an upright, vertical portal.
He went to the cadaver on the table and picked up the guy's head.
"Toby, watch this!" He walked away from the gaping vortex and bent his knees, arms lining up the shot on the other side of the room. "NFL rookie Jeffery Woods lines up the three-pointer. He takes the shot!"
He threw the "ball".
It sails through the air and hits the backboard (leaving a bloody smear on the wall).
It hits the rim (another smear on the countertop).
It rolls around the net (oh, that's definitely smearing all over the place).
Swish!
It fell neatly into the inferno portal.
"And the crowd goes wild! Haaaaa! Haaaa!" He made heavy, breathy 'haaa's and held his arms up, being praised by an imaginary stadium of people all around him.
"Oh, yeah?"
The pale killer turned to see Toby walk over wearing a gray/green plaid flat cap and a caddy kit from one of the closets slung over his shoulder. Instead of a ball, he pulled out a non-descript squishy organ and put it on the floor (either a very mushy pancreas or a small snippet of large intestine). He grabbed the driver club from the bag and took up position.
"He lines up the shot. Toby Rogers could be the next Tiger Woods… or Happy Gilmore."
He swivels his hips to imitate the "golfing pros" and moves the driver back and forth a few times before throwing caution to the wind and whipping the driver over his shoulder (nearly taking out the kitchen lamp and Jeffery's head in the process).
"FORE!"
*FWAP!*
*SMASH!*
…
Toby and Jeff stared dumbly at the broken window behind the portal in silence. Toby's hands still holding onto a phantom golf driver. The real one slipped out and was currently embedded in the wall behind him.
"Huh, I expected it to go splat, to be honest." Toby muttered.
…
"You know you need to-"
"Yeah, I know, I'll go get it," Toby mumbled, heading off in the direction of the flying meat.
Jeff shrugged and chose to return to the job. He hefted the headless corpse, careful not to spill out the intestines on the nicely-cleaned floors (courtesy of yours truly) and tossed it into the portal.
Eyeless Jack paced the length of the lab as he waited for the latest and arguably most important experiment to near completion.
He was in a different room than the day before. The main lab still resembled a candy factory explosion, but he decided he needed more space and fewer contamination risks for this one, so he moved shop to a vacant lab room, now the unofficial "biology lab". The basement was spacious enough and the Council approved a lot of equipment they applied for.
He heard the quiet *ding* of an egg timer on the counter and immediately changed direction towards a small device whirring quietly on the table, a tray of glass tubes spinning rapidly under a protective plastic cover. He pressed a button on the centrifuge and the spinning tray slowed to a stop before he popped the lid open and lifted out the carefully marked tubes.
The solution inside wasn't remarkable, just slightly cloudy white, but what was more interesting was the messy bundle of white fibers collected at the bottom. Holding it up to the light, he couldn't help but feel a little excited. After a long process of refining, replicating, and isolating, he had the final product in these innocent, scraggly strands.
Deoxyribonucleic acid.
DNA.
Any basic science book would tell you it's the "building blocks of life", but there was so much more to it than that. It was the basis of life, perfected over eons of Nature experimenting and changing with an ever-shifting earth. Even "junk" DNA people easily dismissed for years actually had purpose.
He lifted the tubes and confirmed the strands were isolated in each sample. UnderRealm protocol for new species included genetic comparison testing. While Magicals weren't technically "new" or "non-human", he still covered all the bases. Samples of several "Magical" specimens compared between known species; human, semi-human, non-human, and a few species that didn't really fall into any category.
EJ carried the tray of tubes towards a large machine in the corner. It was roughly the size of a copier/fax machine way back in the 80s or 90s with a built-in keyboard set up below a full screen connected directly to the machine. The bulky machine was commissioned by several top researchers in the UnderRealm and Slender had managed to convince the Council to have one on-site.
He entered a few commands into the terminal before a sterile tray ejected itself from the side with a hiss. The tray had an array of empty slots that each centrifugation tube fit neatly into. When the last sample was confirmed, he pressed a button and the tray retracted back into the machine. A green light indicated the process was ready to go.
The machine ticked rapidly as specially designed needles and probes unraveled the DNA strands and processed them into a long sequence of billions of base pairs. This machine worked on a level that would have the original Human Genome researchers pointing and shouting 'witchcraft!'.
Now, the human genome is made of four "base pairs" labeled A, C, G, and T and literally billions of them are strung together in one enormous molecule generally called DNA. It would take months, if not years, to go through all of the individual lines of DNA sequencing, though there's a 'saving grace' so to speak. 99.9% of all Human DNA is similar to each other, though that 0.1% still represents a couple million odd base pairs that weren't the same, it narrowed the search down significantly.
The machine isolated major differences in the DNA samples, ignoring random base pair mutations that are bound to happen between samples just on the principle of 'why not?' and random genetic damage.
Ten minutes of quiet ticking and all of the genome samples were successfully sequenced, the results displayed in the monitor above. His eye sockets glanced over the information presented before sending it to the printer. He took the decently-sized stack of documents towards a small table with a cup of coffee and some preliminary test results.
At a glance, he could tell some key facts he'd already suspected early on. The "Pureblood" samples showed pretty disturbing chromosomal homogeneity and weak genetic variability. That would be expected from a child produced from two people with too similar DNA (like first cousins or [he shuddered] "closer" relations).
Reaching over, he grabbed some documents on the cells themselves prior to DNA extraction. The cells had poor recovery response to toxins, contaminants, or damage. The blood itself showed a weak immune response. He suspected whatever health benefits "magic" had helped negate these issues, otherwise he really couldn't imagine these people living past maybe their late 30s, maybe 40s, with how inbred they'd become.
In contrast, the "muggleborn/halfblood" samples had pretty normal chromosomal heterogeneity with stronger, healthier cells and stronger-than-average immune responses, too.
He shook his head at just how much damage these "purebloods" were doing to themselves. Heck, at the rate this data showed, the 'pureblood' kids Harry went with today would be lucky if their grandchildren weren't completely sterile at this rate.
He flipped through the files again, comparing samples to one another and comparing that to the generic human samples obtained, but so far these Magicals, even 'purebloods', were practically just the same as most 'muggles'. Standard mutations for Caucasian peoples further North. Normal genetic variations in normal spots, but nothing particularly linking them. A muggleborn wizard from Yorkshire had different DNA to the pureblood witch from India, but there had to be some defining link between them.
What's more, it wasn't necessarily obvious.
See, the tricky thing about DNA is that literally one key base pair changing out of billions in early cell development is shared throughout the entire body and could mean the difference between amino acid X and amino acid Y. This could create a whole different protein, which was the difference between someone born with functioning enzymes and someone with a significantly lower life expectancy (or, interestingly, someone who just gets gassy and uncomfortable digesting lactose).
He continued scanning the results, the device sifting out insignificant shifts and highlighting particular sequences.
Specifically, one sequence in particular.
The sequence ATGGCTGGAATATGT repeated at least 77 times on Chromosome 13 (and, no, the numerology wasn't lost on him) was present only in those classified as Magicals. The mundane human control group sequence completely skipped it.
Reading more into the data from other experiments (specifically, on Harry, being the only Magical with a functioning body in the house), this sequence was pivotal to odd protein expression. Proteins that were abnormally organized and interacted with other proteins in unusual ways, from normal immune response to neural networks to ocular perception.
This couldn't be coincidence. He'd look into it later.
But for now, he had to be thorough with the remaining results. He flipped the page and read the general readout data.
Non-human; sub-class Y species (i.e. Rake, Wendigo, Seedeater, etc.); No comparison.
Non-human; sub-class G species (i.e. Gremlin, Lurker, Widemouth, etc.); No comparison.
Non-human; sub-class D species (i.e. Slorcher, Glucklog, etc.); No comparison.
Semi-human; sub-class X (Slenderman); No comparison.
Semi-human; sub-class A-E (i.e. Previous Human exposed to unknown contaminant); Minimal comparison.
?; sub-class "Laughing Jack"; No comparison.
Human; sub-class Aware Human; blind sample test;
Wait.
What?
He re-read the last part of the report.
'Notable comparison.'
The 'Aware Human' experiment was blind, meaning that even he didn't know whose sample he picked up in the freezer. It was just a random sample from a human or former-human in the Mansion or with frequent dealings with the UnderRealm, hence they were 'aware' humans.
He flipped the pages until he found the data sheet he was looking for. His eye sockets skimmed over the lines of code printed out until he found it.
Right there.
"No way." He murmured.
The eyeless doctor rushed towards the original lab station and pulled out the original blood sample bag used. The name and personal information of the bag was covered over with by tape. He peeled it off carefully, to expose the owner.
"Oh my God."
At the very edge of Hogwarts' wards, a temporal distortion was masked by a small cloud of wispy, black smoke. The cloud rapidly dissipated into nothing, revealing Slenderman holding onto Sally's hand. He wasted no time and immediately marched the trek up to the castle entrance.
He had initially planned to visit to allow Sally to take over for Laughing Jack and Smile handling patrols. He wanted to keep this up for as long as the Headmaster would allow it to ensure some level of reconnaissance. But now, he had just been delivered an urgent missive from Adrian's messenger bird to come to Hogwarts, forcing his hand on the matter and moving the change-out schedules a little early. It really put a damper on the good mood he'd carried over from the Goblins yesterday.
They got through the entrance hall without raising any suspicion and walked the convoluted hallways and passages of Hogwarts until they happened to cross paths with Minerva McGonagall heading the opposite way with Harry in tow.
"Mr. Lindermann," She said, surprised, "I'm sorry, we hadn't anticipated you."
"I see," Slender replied casually, "Well, I had come along by chance to visit Landon Jack, my ward, and ran into my other two wards on route. They told me Harry was being escorted to the Headmaster. I felt it would be appropriate to supervise or, at the very least, be informed." The casualness was off-set by a slight accusatory tone at the end.
McGonagall seemed to pick up on it, "Well, Professor Dumbledore was rather sudden with this appointment and I felt you may be rather busy. Also, we don't typically need parental assistance for staff-to-student meetings unless for disciplinary reasons."
"I see," The entity repeated himself, before having his glamour 'smiling' politely, "Well, regardless, I'm here now, so I may just tag along. Sally, too, if that's alright."
The Transfiguration Mistress nodded, but warily glanced at the young girl before leading the "man", the girl, and the boy towards a stone gargoyle statue in the middle of the hallway.
"Blood pops." She intoned clearly. The gargoyle nodded and leapt to the side, exposing a long, winding stairwell leading up the tower. They climbed up and ended at a solid, wood door at the very top of the stairwell.
They walked into the office space and were greeted by Professors Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick. Harry and Sally immediately started glancing around the room, intrigued by the many devices (currently non-operational or slightly broken) and portraits of Headmasters glancing curiously back at them. Slenderman, on the other hand, was more focused on the other humans in the room.
Professor Flitwick seemed, for lack of a better word, pissed. His posture and jaw suggested tension or aggravation or indignity, or perhaps all three simultaneously. He managed a stiff nod of acknowledgement to Slender, but didn't speak.
Professor Sprout was obviously upset over Flitwick's anger and seemed to be trying to find a way to act as the mediator. She sent a kind smile towards the group, before glancing at the other two Professors in the room.
Professor Snape was sneering as usual, secluding himself in the darker regions of the office, but when he saw Harry and Sally together, he seemed to barely refrain from outright snarling.
In response, Sally flashed in a quick smile before wandering around a bit, noting the many empty spaces on the shelves between the still and broken toys. Slender kept a close eye on her and the bat-like human, anticipating a story soon enough.
Harry walked quietly towards a seat that McGonagall had conjured just in front of the large desk in the center of the room. The guardian could tell the boy was putting on his most stoic face for the occasion, but beneath the façade, he could sense roiling anticipation, anxiety, and a small amount of relief once Slender arrived. The glamoured entity put a comforting hand on his shoulder, before looking up to address the others.
"Where is Dumbledore?"
McGonagall cast a quick glance over the room, "Yes, I was wondering that myself."
"He wasn't here when we arrived," Pomona interjected, "I suspect he's just running around. You know how he is." She remarked off-handedly, as though it excused everything at once.
She began talking amiably with Slender about Nick being in her house and what she's noticed. While the two were talking, Sally cocked her head at a portrait of an old headmaster with a rather large nose and silly-looking hat, who sneered back at her. She gasped when he left his frame, making her anxious if she'd offended him somehow.
Professor Sprout finished her small talk when Professor Snape approached the tall guardian. "Mr. Lindermann, I would like to discuss something with you." Slender raised an eyebrow, but let him continue, "You see, earlier last week, your ward, Ms. Williams, saw fit to ignore my explicit instructions and concoct a rather dangerously acidic potion of her own design with no supervision. And afterwards, decided it would be funny to try to drown me in the vile mix!" He spat the last sentence out angrily. "If it weren't for my fast actions vanishing the drink, I believe she would have killed me!"
The guardian could see the man's point and sent a glare at the young girl, who shuffled over dejectedly. He addressed the Potions Master again, "I apologize sincerely on my ward's behalf; however I want my ward to do so as well." He enunciated the end with another glare.
She crossed her arms petulantly and ground out, "I'm sorry."
"That's it?!"
The dungeon-dweller snarled furiously at the "man's" reaction to attempted murder by his ward while Slender sent a disapproving wavelength of Sigma around him, the undead girl picking it up more than the others. "Sarah Williams, we will discuss this later and I will decide on a punishment, but right now this behavior has me curious as to what exactly makes you believe he deserves that kind of treatment."
"He was playing mean games with Harry," She mumbled angrily, not looking her guardian in the 'eyes'.
The taller man turned to the wizard in black. "A 'pop quiz', of sorts," Snape replied smoothly, "If the Golden Boy of Hogwarts is anything like he's to live up to, I'd expect him to answer simple questions." He sneered.
Slender sensed the vengeful, slightly petulant, anger from his other ward still not moving from the chair, but it was almost dwarfed by the man practically radiating disgruntled bitterness.
Sally, meanwhile, had wandered away towards an enormous bird with vibrant red, orange, and gold plumage. She 'ooh'ed quietly as she slowly approached its perch. The bird seemed wary of her, but was noticeably on the side of his perch furthest from Slender, himself. The girl held up her hand a few inches away from it, inviting it to let her stroke its head.
"Is that… bird safe?" Slender asked the others present.
Sprout smiled kindly, "Of course. Fawkes if a Phoenix. They're the noblest and kindest birds you'll ever find. They're attracted towards Light Wizards, like Dumbledore, and generally are a symbol of the Light."
Slender hummed noncommittally, but his eyes never left the bird, watching it with distrust.
The bird, Fawkes, warbled quietly and hesitantly leaned in to let her pet the plumage on his neck. Sally smiled, "Wow, Mr. Lindermann! You should feel him. He's so warm and soft!"
Seeing that she meant Slenderman, Fawkes screeched and skittered further away from him to the furthest spot on its perch. He took a step back, and the bird calmed somewhat. The sudden reaction wasn't unnoticed by the inhabitants of the room.
Including an old man camouflaged in the corner by disillusionment.
He chose that moment to make himself known, walking out of the shadows and releasing the spell simultaneously. Clearing his throat, he chuckled as those present jumped slightly and spun to face him. "I apologize for startling you. I've just arrived from a rather abrupt, but private, Floo call in the other room."
He walked around the room and sat in the ornate chair behind his desk, setting both hands in front of him, fingers entwined. Minerva gasped, "Albus! Your hand!"
He ruefully lifted his hand, which sported a cloth bandage with slight traces of red seeped through. "Alas, I had a rather unfortunate mishap with a particularly irritable owl." He smiled kindly, trying to convey that he didn't blame the 'owl'.
"But Madam Pomfrey-"
"Was rather busy this afternoon and it was shortly before I received the Floo call earlier. I just conjured a bandage in the meantime. It's nothing serious, Minerva."
In truth, he had been to the owlery, but not for the owl. He learned that Mr. Lindermann had allowed one of his wards, Mr. Thresher, the use of one of the peculiar black birds. He'd attempted to stun the creature and contain it for a brief examination to learn just what it was and then apply a high-quality Tracking charm. However, the bird deftly dodged the spellwork and apparated out of the way for any wide-range spells. He'd knocked many poor owls unconscious, but none of them were the snowy owl Hagrid purchased (it fled moments before the first spell) or the black bird.
Finally, the bird appeared right before him, slashed his hand with its sharp beak and apparated back to the top-most rafter in the tower. Its head was lowered, giving the impression of raised 'shoulders' and its eyes only further gave an ominous impression of 'daring' him to try again. He decided to stop after his wand refused to episky the wound closed. Either the bird was some Dark variety that he could not oust without admitting this attempt or somehow it prevented magic from working on inflicted wounds.
He rushed back to the office with a hastily conjured bandage to clot the wound on the way. He had just beat the other Professors and managed to wordlessly disillusion himself to observe the happenings.
Still, he returned to the matter at hand. "Good evening everyone, I trust you all enjoyed your weekend. Please, please, take a seat." He conjured several chairs for everyone, Solomon Lindermann taking the one closest to Harry and Ms. Williams sitting not far either.
He smiled at the tall guardian, "While unexpected, thank you for coming, Mr. Lindermann."
"I'd like to apologize for whatever havoc Harry has done to warrant a meeting with the Headmaster within one week of enrollment." The 'man' flashed a cold smile.
Dumbledore chuckled in response, "No, nothing quite so drastic." He leaned in, smiling kindly, "You see, Harry, here, has been summoned to try a house re-sort."
Slender sensed the sudden bristling from the diminutive Charms professor. Clearly, the man was outraged this was even taking place. Dumbledore continued, "It's not uncommon for a student to feel a bit dissatisfied or even unwelcome in their House their first week. Usually it's simply just a difficult time period for them to adjust to their new surroundings. However, sometimes their experience with the house may cause them to change their minds.
"You see, the sorting hat deals with mentalities only until the time of the sorting. It's entirely possible for a young man who exhibits mentalities borderline Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but at the time of the Sorting he had tendencies and mentalities more towards Hufflepuff. Then, after spending time among their new housemates, they may favor characteristics towards another house and they, themselves, may request a re-sort with the permission of their current Head of House and parent or guardian consent. No offense to your House, Pomona. It was merely an example."
The kindly Herbology Professor smiled back to the twinkly-eyed Headmaster, but it was a little more forced than earlier. "Likewise, it is also an option for a Professor to request a re-sort if he or she feels the student would flourish in a different environment."
'Ah,' Slender thought silently, 'Now to the crux of the matter.'
"That said, I believe young Harry, here, may find the option of a re-sort helpful as he develops through life."
"Still," Slender countered coolly, "I would think it would take longer than just one week to decide something like this."
"Yes, but I believe Harry isn't achieving his full potential in Ravenclaw and a re-sort would do some good."
Slender brushed off the powerful waves of anger emanating from Flitwick, "Perhaps it's still too-"
"Oh, no, no," Dumbledore raised his hand and shook his head, unknowingly cutting off the Slenderman. "I know your dealings with magical society are limited, so you cannot grasp the implications of this decision. I'm certain this will be beneficial to Harry." His eyes tinkled brightly as he projected an aura of 'I-know-better-than-you' to practically everyone in the room, but especially Slender.
Slender, in the meantime, was struggling.
On one hand, he could maintain secrecy, allow his wards to experience magic, allow his other wards to entertain their new-found fascination in this world, and possibly bring Balance to an unstable society.
On the other hand, there were only five wizards (and witches) present. And he could easily impale them in a heartbeat before any of them could draw their flimsy wands.
Then again, this world could fall into further Unbalance and Chaos if he destroyed the "Head of All that is Good".
And again, he could easily snap the neck of the impudent, conniving, Machiavellian old codger in front of him that dared to interrupt him so rudely.
'Oh, dear,' He thought, 'That meeting with the Goblins left me with far too much bloodlust.' No blood was shed, of course, but he admittedly enjoyed them pissing themselves in fear (literally, for a couple of them) at his revealed form. Some old pleasures were difficult to kick.
He sighed quietly. It was hardly an influential impact. Simply a different dormitory area and different Housemates. Perhaps a different schedule, too, but that would be worked out by Administration regardless. Plus, it may end up better to spread at least one ward in 3 of the 4 Houses to keep tabs.
"Very well," He acquiesced. He felt Harry stiffen beside him and sent a slight calming frequency to keep him from objecting. He'd explain later.
"Excellent!" The man cried out jovially. He walked to the shelves behind him and pulled down a ratty, old hat from one of the upper shelves before returning. He set the hat in front of Harry before sitting back down, "Now, Harry, if you would be so kind."
Harry reached out for the raggedy headwear, swearing for a second that a particular wrinkle raised giving the impression of an inquiring eyebrow above two divot "eyes". However, that thought left as he placed it on his head.
Like before, the world around him went silent and dark.
'Hello, Mr. Potter, I will admit this isn't surprising, but I hadn't anticipated seeing you so soon.'
'Yeah, well, I didn't either.'
He felt the familiar shuffling in his head as the Hat evaluated his choices and skimmed the last week. 'Hmm. Not much to go off of in only a week's time, though I am glad somebody found that ballroom. It was quite the conversation starter when it was being built. Shame it's fallen in such disrepair.'
The hat continued its silent analysis as Harry fidgeted a little, 'Hmmm, aaahhh, perhaps… SLYTHERIN!"
Outside the confines of the Hat, the faculty seemed to freeze up.
McGonagall seemed beside herself. The son of James Potter and Lily Evans in Slytherin?! Pomona, ever the fair-play badger, was surprised by the result but accepting none-the-less.
Snape seemed to have developed a large vein in his forehead that was on the verge of an aneurism.
Flitwick was nonplussed with a hint of satisfaction seeing the Headmaster's reaction.
The Headmaster, meanwhile, seemed almost like he was about to finally keel over after a century-and-a-half of living. His face was whiter than his beard and his eyes glassed over in horror as his mind spun to try to catch up with itself. Every now and then, tiny whimper-like noises came from his open mouth, trying to form words.
He was just about to intervene when a new sound grew louder.
"Hehehheehe Hahahah HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Sorting Hat gave a wheezy cackle out of its mouth-tear. "Oh, Merlin in Avalon! Y-your faces, ahaaaaahahahaha! I think I just split a side… literally! AAAAAhhahahahahaha!"
It took almost a full minute for the scrap of fabric to get ahold of itself, but it still curved that tear into a grin. Dumbledore finally gathered his wits enough to say, "Allistair, what is the meaning of this?"
"Simple, Dumbledore, just a little revenge for doubting my judgement so quickly." The hat replied mischievously, "Now, on to the real sorting. Who knows… it might actually be Slytherin."
The "face" retreated back into the fabric before the faculty could sputter a reply, leaving them far more anxious than before.
'What was all of that?'
'Nothing, nothing, Mr. Potter, just a bit of entertainment and vindictiveness on my part. It gets dreadfully boring on that shelf all year and I find myself rather insulted that they force a re-sort so early in the term. Now, let's continue, shall we?'
'Hmmm. Ah, yes. I stand by my earlier judgement. You're loyal, and you would do well with Mr. Brahms by your side, but I feel the Hufflepuffs might not take your temperament and rather dubious morals well. On the other hand, Slytherin would find itself without most of its student body rather soon if you were to be alone with them for so long. You're brave enough for Gryffindor, a little reckless, and with the Quest, of course, but your mindset is far too gray for their liking. You'd clash almost as much as with Slytherin, I'm afraid.
'However, Ravenclaw is out of the question. The Headmaster saw fit to that. 'A well-meaning recommendation' my left-side-brim mustard stain! That old man has too many fingers in too many pies for my liking.
'But, I must make a decision on the most fitting House, Mr. Potter'
'What does this all amount to? Why is Dumbledore going through all of this trouble?' Harry pushed.
'You see, practically everyone of importance in Magical Britain came through these halls, studied in these classrooms, graduated in this school, and, most importantly, were all Sorted. The initial Sorting was just to provide a sense of competitiveness in students that were given more attention for their talents by the original Founders; Godric with his combat and defense course, Rowena and her Charms courses, Salazar's potions and politics, and Helga with her healing and herbology. You must also understand the Founders were friends/rivals themselves, always pushing each other towards a greater accomplishment, so they were competitive between each other as well.
'However, over time, this Sorting and its original meaning has become corrupted into a hierarchy of society. Everyone in power right now had their fathers and their father's fathers' fates decided by their House and whom they associated themselves with. Instead of a sense of family, it became a clique or fraternity. Few friends outside of your House causes a lot of rifts between people in complex society.
'Where you go influences who you meet, who you talk with, and how you are received by society. Everyone knows you're in Ravenclaw (The Headmaster left that morning's paper in my field of view), so it shifts their perception of you. Everyone expects Gryffindor, even now. The 'Boy-Who-Lived', the Beacon of Hope in the darkest time that ended the reign of the Darkest Wizard of the last Century.
'And the stereotypes of these houses will carry with you. Gryffindors are always the Light, the good, the bold, the Knights of the story; rescuing the damsel and saving the day. Hence, why everyone expected you there.
'Ravenclaws are knowledgeable but typically 'nerds', as you kids say these days, and rather arrogant to boot. Hufflepuffs are "Duffers" by most, the 'spares' that are unimportant, no offense to Mr. Brahms. And finally, Slytherins are "Dark Wizards in the Making", the back-stabbers, the Death Eaters, and the snakes.
'Right, I got that impression while we were just hanging around,' Harry nodded.
'Exactly, so now do you see how this needs some deliberation?' Allistair the Hat acknowledged. 'Tell your Guardian as soon as you can. This information will be important, whether he knows it or not. Now, let me hear what you think.'
Harry considered the options, 'Personally, I like Ravenclaw just fine, but I suppose that's off the table. Hufflepuff would probably put everyone through a loop again, which is always fun. But I don't think I could survive Slytherin… or rather they wouldn't survive me.'
'So…?'
'Yep.'
'Then I wish you luck, Mr. Potter. And patience. The Creator knows you'll need it.'
'Hey… wait, Slender always says the Cre-'
The hat chuckled, 'Secrets for another time, perhaps, Mr. Potter. GRYFFINDOR!"
Light blinded him for a second as the hat was removed. Around him, the professors were relaxing from signs of high tension and anxiety and applauding. He supposed the conversation with the hat was rather long and probably gave plenty of nail-biting as it took its time. McGonagall seemed the most relieved of the four, as though him being in Gryffindor suddenly righted the Universe.
The close second being Snape, who probably was moderately less acerbic because he was not in his house.
Flitwick was obviously pushing down his anger, with Professor Sprout by his side bending down a bit to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. The anger faded when the diminutive professor noticed Harry saw him and instead he gave a sad smile and encouraging nod.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a mix of smug, assured, and had a certain glint to his eye-twinkle that clashed with the 'grandfather image'.
Harry's clothes shifted and the blue and bronze accents changed to red and gold with the Ravenclaw Eagle becoming an upright Lion. Harry set the hat back on the ornate desk and started walking towards the exit with Slender and Sally close behind when the Hat spoke again.
"If it's any consolation, Mr. Potter. You get to wear red and black."
Harry grinned and thanked the hat before resuming his current course. Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick followed them out. Snape immediately took off towards the dungeons, muttering about how he wasted time when he had a very important potion put on stasis.
McGonagall was smiling and was a few steps ahead en route to the Gryffindor Tower, expecting him to follow. He hesitated and turned to the other two professors there, specifically Flitwick, "Professor, I just wanted to say… Ravenclaw was extremely enjoyable while I was in it and I really enjoyed having you as Head of House."
Flitwick's eyes lightened considerably and he smiled, "Thank you Mr. Potter. You will be missed, of course, but I am glad you were a Raven, even if only temporarily. And please, even if I'm no longer your Head, my door is always open."
Harry nodded gratefully before following the Scottish Professor down the hallway.
Slender, meanwhile, observed the reactions of those present. Out of all of them, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout seemed like very good influences in the school with a larger degree of autonomy to Dumbledore. Snape seemed disgruntled to be here, but almost… tethered, most likely by Dumbledore's hand. McGonagall was an excellent teacher, though he questioned her capability to maintain impartiality among Houses as Deputy Headmistress and have time for the emotional commitments as Head of House. Plus, she was firmly in Dumbledore's camp, so he had to be wary of her.
He watched his ward begin walking with the Professor and followed. As they turned the corner, he was suddenly aware of two ripples of lifeforms around them that weren't obvious. Opening his senses, he sent out a quick pulse that returned with signatures matching Nikolaus and Adrian.
He 'saw' through the pulse that Nikolaus had used his many insectoid companions to cling like a spider to a darkened, secluded corner. Adrian was apparently using his barbed wires to support himself against the wall on the opposite side, still largely controlled by subconscious will, but a vast improvement.
He mentally congratulated their stealth and gave discreet nods in their directions.
Slender grinned internally as he sensed their life energy showing 'surprise' and a sort-of-unique sense of 'aw-sh*t-he-found-us'. He was very familiar with that unique feeling because targets who hid from him on "jobs" usually blazed with that emotion just before he… took care of them.
They neared the portrait of the Fat Lady and McGonagall spoke clearly, "Caput Draconis" before the painting opened to reveal a hidden hole into a large room.
"Wait up! Hey!"
The three turned to see Nick and Adrian both running down the hallways, for all intents and purposes looking like they ran a distance to get there, despite following them the entire way. Nick managed to look concerned as he looked between Harry and the portrait, "So, what did Dumbledore want from you? What's going on? Is he in trouble, Professor?"
"Not at all, Mr. Brahms." McGonagall replied. "Mr. Potter was offered a private re-sorting in Professor Dumbledore's office and the verdict ruled that he be moved to Gryffindor." She turned to look directly at Harry, "Now, your possessions will be moved from Ravenclaw to your new dormitory. I will personally escort you to the room, but for now I'll leave you to speak to your frie- family." She corrected quickly before walking into the common room.
"So does this mean-" Nick began.
Slender raised a small aura of Sigma to quiet them before speaking, "I believe we only have time for goodbyes and, even then, I'd imagine privacy is difficult in this part of the castle." He subtly glanced at the portraits surrounding them that immediately looked away from them and feigned ignorance of eavesdropping.
The wards nodded before the three Hogwarts students turned to one another. Nick grinned, "So, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and now Gryffindor. We almost covered all the bases."
Harry gave a wry smile, "Well, at least we'll have something to talk about whenever we meet up."
"As often as possible," Adrian replied, slightly smirking, "Can't escape us that easily."
Harry turned towards the still-open hole in the portrait before turning to Slender, "Oh, Sir? The Hat told me to tell you a bit more about the Housing system and how it matters."
The being nodded, "Perhaps later, or send a letter, we are a bit pressed for time."
The shortest wizard turned to the other two, "Whelp, I guess this is goodbye, for now." He shrugged.
Adrian looked a bit thoughtful, "I guess I will miss having someone with a brain cell of common sense to talk to in that tower."
"Well, Ay, you have to consider the benefits," Harry supplied, "For instance, I won't have sunlight waking me up every morning and I can sleep in."
For a second, the undead spirit's eyes glazed over at the thought of sleeping in past sunrise. Going to bed late and waking up later in the morning. Getting a few more hours of glorious… restful… sleep…
He paused, "I'm tempted, but I feel like there's a catch that I'm forgetti-"
"Hiya Harry!"
The group was startled by the sudden appearance of the youngest Weasley brother in the portrait-door-frame, beaming at Harry.
Adrian's face morphed into a smirk, "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
"I heard about the re-sort. For real this time! McGonagall's been boasting about it to the Prefects and everyone's talking about it!" He said eagerly.
"Bye, Harry!" The undead students waved as they walked away. Harry looked back at them, then up at his guardian's impassive eyebrow raise and his sister's muffled snickers.
No help there.
"Traitors!" He called out mockingly, making Weasley falter for a second in his ramblings. Harry used that second to clamor into the portrait-hole with a quick wave and goodbye to Slendy and Sally.
Unfortunately, he forgot Ron Weasley knew the password, too. He couldn't escape as he continued yammering about chess, quidditch, and something about chubby cannons. Harry slipped by him, only to find several other broad-grinned Gryffindors excitedly talking over one another.
He started shouldering his way through the swarming crowd, grimacing in discomfort as they kept talking, asking questions, and demanding answers.
"Mr. Potter." He looked up and saw the officious-looking older Weasley brother with his nose upturned, like he was the self-appointed ambassador to a high-ranking official.
He stuck his hand out, "My name is Percy Weasley, fifth-year Gryffindor Prefect. I'm to escort you to your new dormitories."
Harry nodded, awkwardly half-shaking. The result being his arm limply flopped around by the older boy's grip. The younger stalked after him up some stairs to an old wooden door. The room inside was a large circular space with a cast-iron stove heater in the very center protected by an iron guard around it that one boy was using to dry his coat. The room was divvied up into five parts corresponding to five four-poster beds with heavy, velvet drapes and five, wooden desks. He noted his trunk and materials were already moved in front of the bed closest to the window. He also noted the bed was right next to a bed with a bright orange flag reading "CC".
"You'll find your belongings are already moved." Percy informed him, pointing to the obvious bed.
"Almost like you all expected me to come here." Harry muttered loud enough for him to hear.
"Well, you are Harry Potter." Percy replied casually, "But it was actually moved after your sorting, not pre-emptively."
"How?"
"Magic, of course."
"Of course," Harry scoffed under his breath.
The older boy left Harry to walk around and check his belongings. A quick search revealed a spooked BRVR glaring dangerously at everything around him and relaxing when he saw Harry's face. The Pokemon hopped up on the bed and into his lap once Harry sat down.
"Hey, BRVR, something the matter?" The cat-like mouse purred quietly, "They transport you, too?" More purring. "I'm guessing it scared you?"
BRVR settled on the pillow, officially 'claiming' a spot on the bed as his own as Harry settled in next to him.
"Well, boy, I suppose this will be our new home." He mumbled to himself.
He sighed and leaned into his pillow as the ignored the footsteps approaching.
He barely saw the other boys enter the dormitory before he closed the curtains around the four-poster bed. He heard them shuffling awkwardly outside of them and mumbling about disturbing him before finally wandering away to 'give him some time'.
He blew out a frustrated gust of air.
"This is gunna be a looong seven years."
AN: The cleanup scene was largely inspired by the video game Viscera Cleanup Detail.
Huge shout-out to whoever gets the easter egg in this chapter. I'll reveal it next update, but I'd be seriously impressed if they figured it out beforehand.
Just a quick thing; the re-sort has been thought out for a while now and my Beta agreed it would be good for plot progression. So, this was not a spontaneous decision, don't worry.
1/6/2017 Oh, and I made some subtle changes to earlier chapters. Nothing's changed content-wise, just some awkward dialogue fixed.
AN: Well, to those still curious about the upper AN, I'll explain a bit more. I had completed the chapter late November and planned to release it, but I went home Thanksgiving Break and let my Beta (aka my sister) read it and give feedback. We both agreed it was not up to par, so I had to take a step back and rework a lot of it during Final Exam/Project Month and with my parents pressuring me to apply for Jobs for after Graduation this spring.
Then, in-between the disaster called "Writer's Block" re-surfaced and I had no idea where to go with what I was doing. I only recently found that motivation again and I want to mine this vein of inspiration as long as I can.
I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited and helped motivate me towards getting back in the game. I especially wanted to thank Guest User Iheartlife888 who's been reviewing the story so often and helped me put this back on my list way in November and I wish I could have sent a PM back.
Again, I'm sorry, I really do feel bad for leaving you all waiting like this. So, I wanted to give you a late Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanzaa/New Year's gift I wrote in-between everything this past month.
Short One: The Ultimate OP Harry Potter
Harry Potter hovered over the massive city of New York, lasers shooting out of his eyes with a halo of the seven elements of magic and nature floating around his head, dancing to the whims of his will. His werewolf-vampire-dementor-dragon-naga-Asgardian-Kryptonian blood keeps him invulnerable to the attacks of the wizarding and muggle government below, fearfully attacking with literally anything and everything they had.
He banishes them away with a single swipe of his clawed hand in a brilliant display of wandless magic. The lord rings of his ancestral houses float around him like planets; Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Merlin, Pendragon, and several more of lesser importance. The only ring actually on his hand was the One Ring of Sauron that he inherited from his interdimensional ancestor Frodo Potter.
Suddenly, the Universe shifts as planets align, opening a new pathway to the seven gems of creation and the leylines of earth. Statues long-since lost rise from deep within the earth.
He gains another power!
The power of his long-lost ancestor Giygas!
You cannot grasp the true form of Giygas' attack!
The immortal, half-werewolf-vampire-dementor-dragon-naga-Asgardian-Kryptonian, Lord of England, Descendent of Royalty, Inheritor of Atlantis, all-powerful-wizard-with-a-f*ck-ton-of-galleons, actually-canon-Master-of-Death, and the f*cking son of Cthulhu roared to the abyss;
"I AM GOD!"
Harry woke with a snort.
He took a moment to reorient himself. Still in his room, not a 50-foot-tall… thing. Definitely no Ultimate Power going through his head.
The dream wasn't… bad per se, but definitely weird.
A glance to the side revealed the culprit; an empty wrapper for Poprocks, two empty bottles of Coke and Sprite (and no, his stomach didn't explode), an empty wrapper for a King-sized bar of Hershey's chocolate, and the stale crust of a New York Meat Lover's Supreme Pizza slice.
He mentally vowed off of Guys' Night for a while.
He shuffled his way downstairs to see everyone at the table, a few of the guys looking a little worse for wear.
"Ah, Harry, good morning. I was about to call up," Slender greeted.
Harry shrugged, "Sorry, I had the weirdest dream a while ago and it kept me up. I was like… Lord of some place called Hogwarts and my mum was the half-vampire descendent of Merlin or something… I think there was fire and lightning, I can't remember… but t was so weird. And I was the blood-adopted descendent of, like, a million different families for some reason."
"Well, I can't vouch for anything else, but I can guarantee you've only been blood adopted once."
Harry stared dumbly back, "What?"
"Don't you remember? We blood-adopted you when you came here."
Harry ran from his chair towards the bathroom on that floor and looked in the mirror.
His hair was a messy black (thankfully not a shiny, bald dome) but his skin was paper-white. He wore a slimming black suit that seemed more like a physical part of his body than clothing.
His back erupted in hundreds of tiny, black tentacles.
AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!
Harry woke with a snort.
"What. The actual. F-"
END
Short 2: Eyeless Jack's College Degree
Jeff and Eyeless Jack sat around the breakfast table alone, when Jeff suddenly looked up at him, "Hey, I just thought of something."
"Hm?"
"You're good with biology; I get that, kidneys and ripping stuff out of people is your "thing". But you know enough about genetics to analyze DNA from new species; enough about chemistry to break down jelly beans and find the literal 'magic ingredient'; enough about physics to do that whole magic-wavelength thingy; enough about mechanics to build your own machines; enough about coding to program some of those machines yourself; and you're a cook."
"Your point being?" EJ replied.
"What the f*ck kind of Major did you go for?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes!"
The lights in the kitchen suddenly shut off, leaving the room in complete darkness. "Hey! What the Hell!?" Jeff shouted.
Then, the darkness was pierced by a single spotlight on… EJ.
In seconds, he'd changed into a formal tuxedo tailcoat with a crisp, white undershirt. He leaned on a slick, black cane and had one hand on a shiny, black top hat.
Jeff was too stunned to move.
Then EJ started to sing.
"Well… when… I…
First went out into the big blue world,
My mom would always saaaay,
'Son you gotta keep your head up and your mind aware
'cause you'll see how it all ends up one daaaay'."
Jeff peered in the darkness, but couldn't make out any of the 40-piece orchestra playing just outside the spotlight.
So, I thought about it hard every night and day
The biggest question of aaaaaalll;
In this short and all-too-terrible life of mine-" He knelt on one knee.
"What is my purpose on this great, mud-baaaaallll." His voice softened to a whisper of hanging silence before exploding back in song.
"Then it hit me and I knew what I was on this earth to do
My purpose, my meaning, my dreeeaaam.
Was to be up on the stage
With lights and songs and babes
This is who I wanted to beeee."
The blackness exploded with light and blinded Jeff with a fully-lit stairstep stage complete with 20 gorgeous women in close-fitting costumes and fishnet leggings with tasteful, but not tacky, sequin and feather adornments dancing on each step.
"My Major was Musical Theater, yes, Musical Theater
I'm straight and I'm a guy, but I love Musical Theater
The call of Broadway, the sights of New York
The musical numbers, and-of-course;
"I love the Cats on their tin roofs,
The Musical Man,
The Pajama Game,
And the Devious Plan
"Of Arsenic and Old-Lace
And the Lion King
Erik the Phantom
I love every-thing.
"So I went off to college to get a music degree
And then, I'd go on to debuuuuut
But some bitch went on ahead
And carved out my eyes instead-"
He climbed up the staircase to the top of the pedestal of the steps in one, fluid motion.
"So now here I am."
"Now here he is." The women echoed.
"An eyeless man."
"What a man"
"With a
"Degree
"In
"Musi-cal
"THEEEEEEAAATEEEERRRRRR!"
The stage erupted with hidden pyrotechnics as he leapt off the steps and took a grand-stand slide towards Jeff, who was still sitting, stunned, at the kitchen table.
The women finished with an echoed, "And a Minor in Philoso-phyyyyyy."
The song ended as EJ sat, still on his knees, slightly huffing after the number.
*brrriiiiing*
"Alright! That's a wrap!"
The stage lit up as people in headsets and clipboards started walking around. Jeff recognized the creepy doll-girl, Shiloh, among them coordinating some of the dancers.
The girls' bright white smiles faded as they started wandering off-stage, muttering about make-up and lunch break.
One went up to Shiloh and asked about paychecks, to which Shiloh told her to check in with "Betty or Darla" before she leaves.
The wall closed up back to its original appearance and EJ stands up off the floor. The "doctor" tore off his suit in one fluid motion before sitting back at the table and spooning up some more cereal.
Then, a woman, still in her stage dress walked in through the "Living Room" door and rushed over to the fridge. She pulled out a labeled tupperwear lunch and sent a mumbled apology to EJ before scurrying back out of the room.
Jeff stared at the wall that had opened up to a full Broadway stage.
Then back to EJ, calmly eating like nothing happened.
Then the torn-of suit still on the floor.
…
"WHAT THE FU-"
END.
AN: The song was completely made-up from some old timey-sounding musicals, but towards the end I think it devolved into a mix between "This Fantastic Peach" from James and the Giant Peach and a lot of Disney's Phineas and Ferb.
I dunno. I mostly just rhymed the stuff in, like, 30 minutes.
And, like the line suggested, some straight guys love Broadway and some gay guys can't stand it. This guy going for an Actuarial Science Degree is nuts for it (and he's definitely straight, not even bi) while this gay guy in my dormitory building hates it.