Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. The members of the Secret Sealing Club and the cast of Perfect Cherry Blossom are the creations of ZUN.
Chapter 24 – Romantic Children
The most well-known theater for the wizards and witches of Britain was named The Globe, and its history dated back long enough for the name to have slipped into the collective unconsciousness of the non-magical population and inspire a similar imitation.
In its past, The Globe had shifted locations several times, due to some reason or another, but for the past thirty years it had remained at Magestic Alley, accessible from Diagon Alley, and became sort of a centre of attraction for which the magical artists of Britain gravitated towards and revolved around. In contrast to its humble beginnings, it was now both theater and concert hall, a place for the best and brightest to perform.
The poster at the door showed a blonde girl surrounded by several puppets: from cute to horrifying, from cartoonish to lifelike.
In the thin but still substantial crowd heading towards the theatre Harry Potter tugged nervously at the lapels of his dress robes, black with trims of silver.
~~[q]~~
"Are you sure it's okay for me to just have this?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes." Luna said. "It's a Christmas present. I would be very pleased if you wore it."
Harry looked at it again. In contrast with the dress robes that Mrs Weasley had gotten for him, a down-to-earth bottle-green that matched his eyes, the set in front of him was...sharp? Elegant?
(There was the sobering thought that he really should go double-check who had access to his Gringotts vault, but he filed it aside for later.)
He picked it up and looked at Luna. "I hope you didn't spend too much on this."
"A set of plain black robes doesn't cost that much." Luna said smugly.
Harry caught the implied meaning, and felt warmth blooming in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made something just for him.
~~[q]~~
"Ladies and gentlemen." The Curator, as was his title, had began speaking with a Sonorous to his throat. "Tonight, we at The Globe bring you a very special performance. From the cherry blossoms of Kyoto to the snow of Moscow, from the lights of Amsterdam to across the Channel in France, we present to you the Shanghai Alice Illusory Orchestra."
There was a smattering of applause: polite and not excessively rowdy, as was etiquette in wizarding society.
"But be not fooled by the name." The Curator continued. "An Orchestra they may call themselves, but they are a group with many talents. Tonight shall begin with a rendition of Beedle the Bard's The Three Brothers, and after the intermission we will be graced with a selection of musical pieces gathered by 'Alice' herself on her travels. Lastly, to round off the night, there will be yet another play: an original retelling of a tragic tale from the Far East. Without further ado." He bowed, and the stage darkened.
"There once were three brothers, travelling along a lonely road at twilight." A spotlight came on the narrator, a tall blonde girl in a dress of blue and white. On the lit stage three figures trudged forth: older, middle-aged, and younger.
"In time, the brothers came upon a river. It was too wide to jump over, too deep to wade through, and too dangerous to swim across." There it was, the river, appearing in sparkling light that reminded Harry of the Milky Way.
Harry watched the rest of the play in silence, only thinking to himself. He had forgotten where he had first heard of the Hallows, but he knew with absolutely certainty that seeking the Elder Wand was one of Voldemort's many goals.
Voldemort might be halfway towards insanity, but he'll still recognise an obvious problem if it stares him in the face, Harry mused. Death was now speaking to the brothers, offering them their gifts. Of course he'll try to find a new wand. And, with that ego of his, he'll definitely go for the strongest wand in existence. A wand of legend.
"The bloody path of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of wizarding history," Harry murmured to himself, so quietly that even Luna, who was sitting beside him, did not hear. That had been Xenophilius' words to him during the afternoon, when Harry had asked about the Hallows. A circle on a line within a triangle. That was the symbol that Xeno had drawn and showed him, and Harry, when he had changed into his robes for the night, had inspected his own Invisibility Cloak for it.
And found it, a small, faint sign traced in what ominously looked like blood, near where the wearer's back of the neck would normally be located.
He decided to keep that fact to himself for now.
Your cloak might be a legendary artefact, you know. Luna's words from what seemed like an eternity ago came back to him. She had probably spotted it when he had been sheltering her.
Like hell I would leave my life to some untested magic, Harry thought to himself. If he was going to defeat Voldemort, he had to do it through the strength of his own magic…plus, perhaps, a few cunning schemes.
Harry watched as the first brother had his throat slit, as the second brother threw himself in a river, and as the third brother ripened and aged like a potato.
When the narrator bowed and the lights returned, it seemed like half the audience was in a daze, and there was a noticeable delay before the applause started.
Well, those actors were really all into it. The bits of music were also quite good. At least, good to his ears. Who knew what the pureblooded snobs thought?
Luna had already dragged her father over to the refreshments stand…which resembled a familiar trolley, and was staffed by a familiar face. And now I know what the snack lady does when she's not on the Hogwarts Express.
He forked over a few Sickles for a Peppermint Toad and Chocolate Frog, before someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Professor Merry? And Professor Usami? What are you both doing here?"
"Attending a performance, same as you," Maribel said lightly. "Teachers do have lives outside of teaching, you know."
"O-Of course." Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He supposed it would be even weirder to see, well, perhaps a teacher like Professor McGonagall outside of her role.
"Any recommendations for the sweets?" Renko remarked. "Neither of us are really familiar with this British stuff."
"Every Flavour Beans," Harry immediately said, a grin creeping onto his face. "Definitely try those."
"One of everything, please." Merry told the lady, who was blinking a few times in disbelief. Perhaps she didn't expect such an order coming from an adult at the theater as opposed to a kid on the Hogwarts Express.
Arms laden with loot, she turned back to Harry. "Ah, I see you've come with Miss Lovegood." She winked, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the pile of sweets in her arms, which she was struggling to keep from spilling. "Renko, help me with this stuff."
"Hello, Professors." Luna greeted.
"And a good evening to you too, Miss Lovegood." Renko said. She held up the mouth of her knapsack to catch the overflowing sweets, then retrieved a Sugar Quill which she began to unwrap. "Enjoying your date? Alice is really quite good, isn't she?"
"Alice?" Harry asked. He decided to ignore the date comment.
"The one pulling the strings." Merry said. She was grinning like a child on Christmas day as she eyed her bagged loot. "Quite literally. A big spoiler, but she's the only person in the Orchestra. That's why it's illusory, after all."
Harry's mouth opened slightly.
"You couldn't tell, Harry?" Luna said from beside him, with only the faintest possible hint of smugness.
"She has, as they say, a gift." Merry said. "If you want, I think we can bring you both to meet her later. She probably wouldn't mind."
Harry thought about the prospect of meeting a ridiculously talented magician, and immediately nodded.
"Good. Never pass up an opportunity to broaden your horizons." Merry smiled. "Might that be your father, Miss Lovegood?" She turned to Luna.
"Yes, it is."
"If you are comfortable with me talking to him?" Merry enquired.
"It's fine, Professor." Luna gave assent.
She asked for permission, huh… Harry watched as Merry made a beeline over to Xeno Lovegood, no doubt to talk about several arcane topics, as well as perhaps discuss Luna's eccentricities. Though I think Mr Lovegood might be the kind of father that'll take everything in stride. Harry thought. Also, come to think of it, Harry looked back at Luna, Merry and Luna must be more familiar with each other than I thought. Well, Merry did say that she was talking to quite a few students, after all.
"We should head back to our seats soon." Renko said. "The next half is going to start. Also, nice disguise. A bit simple, but given most people are only familiar with how you usually look, a few simple changes are enough."
"You still recognised me, though." Harry pointed out.
"Oh no, we didn't. Not by sight, in any case; Merry was quite surprised to feel your magical signature here."
"Huh." Harry wondered.
"Anyway, see you later." Renko gave a small wave, and went to extract Merry, who looked to be locked in quite an engaging conversation.
~~[q]~~
Now that I know it's all puppets, it's really quite incredible. I wonder how she's doing it?
Alice was on the stage, playing the piano, and about seven other dolls were on the stage with her, on strings, drums, brass and woodwinds.
Though the trumpet is quite distinctive. He stared at the small illusion off to the stage's side, which detailed what was currently playing with a short description, and changed dynamically with each piece. Blue Sea of 53 Minutes. The next line read: "Not actually almost an hour long. The title of the piece symbolizes…"
Harry blinked a few times, and went back to watching the dolls perform. I wonder…he sank into his Occlumantic meditation, and reached out with his senses. There was no actual visual image, but Harry could feel the connection between Alice and each of the dolls, a fine blue thread to each.
That's amazing. She can split her focus so many different ways? And good enough to play an instrument each on all of them at once?
I think Merry mentioned that's part of Occlumancy as well. Parallel processing. But Harry dismissed the thought of learning that part of the art: he only had one body, after all.
Before long, the music ended, and the stage darkened once more. Then the spotlight shone itself on Alice again, once more in the position of narrator.
A tragic tale from the Far East. For some particular reason, Harry's heart beat with anticipation, like there was an awful portent in the air.
"A long, long, time ago, in an age where magical beasts openly roamed the earth, in a village in a small forest, there lived an ordinary girl." The stage was a rural-looking village of huts with thatched roofs, with people in tunics going to and fro. A girl stepped onto the scene, looking around nervously as if she was lost.
"Her body was weak, and her temperament was quiet and shy. The people in her village helped her, because that was what people did out of obligation, but they did so without friendliness, without warmth."
It showed the girl wandering around, the people paying no attention to her, as if she was invisible.
"One day, on her way back home from the forest, a monster attacked her. Naturally, without any means of fighting back, she ran away. She ran until her legs were sore, and then she collapsed to the ground, resigned to her fate."
The music changed to an ominous tone, and the rustling of rapid footsteps through the forest undergrowth could be heard. Then she tripped, and the indeterminate beast, a dark mass of claws and teeth, reared up to strike.
"However, as the monster closed in, drool dripping from its fangs, a shining light appeared, blasting it in its chest. As it crumbled to dust, the girl found herself helped up."
The hooded figure that had burst onto the scene offered a hand, then threw back her hood, revealing a soft face and hair of a peculiar pink shade.
"The girl looked up at her savior through teary eyes, and was shocked to recognise her face. Who knew that the kindest girl in her village, the one who could befriend anyone, was secretly a magician?"
From then on the girl accompanied her savior whenever she could, on her secret journeys to defend the village from the rampaging monsters that threatened the peace of the village.
As the days passed, they grew closer.
As the days passed, somehow, the monsters seemed to grow greater and stronger in number. The girl noticed this, and she asked her savior, now her best friend, why it was so.
"I do not know." The savior said. "All I know is that I need to defend our home."
And so the girl's life continued in relative peace, unchanging, until a single fateful day. In the aftermath of a particularly difficult battle, her savior had slain the monster, but received a mortal wound in return. The girl rushed to the battle, but it was too late. She had no magic, and there was nothing she could do.
But even as Fate descended–
"What?" Harry hissed under his breath. "Fate descended?"
"If Death can be personified, so can Fate, Harry," Luna murmured from next to him. "Now shut up and let me enjoy the rest."
But even as Fate descended to claim the soul of the girl's best friend, she refused to let go.
"No! No!" she sobbed. "Bring her back! I'll do anything!"
"No, child." Fate said, as gently as she could. "There is nothing that can be done."
As Fate left, the girl, who was now alone, began to despair. She had lost her best friend, her only friend, the only person who had ever shown her true kindness. But, as she prepared to take her own life, a figure in white appeared to her. The figure appeared neither a man nor a woman, neither old nor young, and neither benign nor malignant.
"Who are you? Why have you come?" The girl cried.
"I am one who struggles against Fate, and I come only to offer my help." The figure in white replied.
"How can you help?"
"I can grant wishes, but only at a price."
At the prospect of hope, the girl banished all thoughts of surrender. "I will pay anything," she said. "I want this to have never happened! I want to be able to save my friend!"
"Very well." The figure in white said. "The price will be your everlasting soul. If the terms are acceptable, then make a contract with me."
The white figure raised a hand, a palm into the air, and the girl pressed her own palm to it. There was a bright glow, piercing white, and it slowly intensified, getting brighter and brighter. Harry shielded his eyes, and he could hear some of the audience wince.
When the light had faded, the girl found herself alone once more, lying on the forest floor. But only a moment passed when she was beset upon another monster, and had no time to react.
However, a shining light once again appeared, and blasted back the monster. Somehow, the girl knew what had happened: she had been thrown back in time, back to their very first meeting.
She immediately revealed that she knew magic, and offered to help her savior hunt. Her savior, who had previously been struggling alone, was overjoyed at the prospect of having someone else fighting alongside her. So too was the girl happy, to finally be able to help her savior.
Yet, the girl's magic was extremely weak, and she was not able to be of much help.
And so the days passed, and the battles grew more difficult, until one day, the girl once again found herself kneeling at her savior's side–her savior, who had shielded her from a mortal blow, at the cost of her own life.
The girl's heart broke again, and her hope that there would be a different outcome turned into despair all at once. Too weary to even try taking her own life, she simply sank onto the forest floor, and closed her eyes. Let whatever would happen, happen, she thought.
After a while she was roused by the a familiar growl, and opened her eyes. She took in the visage of a familiar monster, the one that that had threatened her life at the very beginning. Oh, how fitting this was, she thought. To have my life ended by the same thing that brought me so much happiness in the first place.
But as she thought those self-indulgent thoughts, a shining light appeared, blasting the monster to ash. Once more, her savior appeared, extending a hand. Yet again, it appeared that she had been thrown back in time.
As she grasped the familiar hand once more, a fire was lit in her heart. Even if she had little magic, she could still fight with other means, and so she stole a bow from the village, and set upon learning how to use it.
However, that was still not enough. Once more her savior lay dying beside her own ravaged body, her quiver empty of arrows. Next time, she thought. Next time I'll do it right.
And so she repeated time yet again, again and again, and became proficient at all of Man's created tools. A bow and a sword, knives and an axe; from observing the village's hunters she learnt traps, and from reading the texts of the herbalists she learnt poisons.
And yet, even as she repeated the events over and over, and her mind became sharper than any blade, not once could she reach a future in which her friend was saved. The happy memories of their time together became nothing but bitter reminders of her failure, her incompetence.
It was only when she was out hunting monsters alone, having stolen her friend's wand and locked her in her own home after a terrible argument, did she realise how far she had fallen, how lost she had become from her original wish.
As if echoing her thoughts, a passing sage spoke to her. "You know that this cannot continue. It is still not too late to give up."
"Give up? And let my friend die, just like that?" The girl cried.
"Come to your senses." The sage said. "Every time you reverse the clock, the world itself twists with you. Have you not noticed? The growing strength of the ones you slay? Sooner or later, the ripples you have set in motion will destroy everything around you, more than you already know."
The girl's heart sank. She had indeed noticed. For every repetition, even as she became stronger, the monsters became more ferocious still, more intent on killing, as if out of a desire to return events to what they once were.
And yet, she could not stop. She had made a promise, a solemn oath, a vow upon her soul, and she could not, and would not, break it.
"I have no choice," the girl said. "I will not stop. Even if the entire world were to be destroyed, I will not stop. Even if I have to destroy the entire world, I will not stop."
"Why? What drives you so?" The sage asked. "It is hope for a better future? Or are you fleeing from your inevitable despair?"
"It is neither." The girl said. "It is deeper and greater than that. You see, I love her."
"I thought that to be the case." The sage sighed. "It cannot be helped, then. At the close, remember me, and I will do what I can to ease your suffering." The sage placed a single blossom in the girl's palm, and left without a word.
True to the sage's words, each battle only became more difficult, and resulted in more destruction every time. More villagers began to perish. The village itself began to crumble, houses destroyed by fierce winds, the crops drowned by a deluge of rain.
Finally, one fateful day, an uncountable number of failures later, the girl found herself laying against a tree, the forest itself on fire around here. Her legs would no longer move, and her eyes could barely see. All she could feel was the hand of her friend, who was beside her, in a comparable state.
As she watched the burning trees, so too did the girl's hopes began to crumble into ash. It was not the first time that the thought that she had taken on an insurmountable task occurred to her, but now, watching the world itself fall to ruin around her, feeling the pulse of her friend slowly weaken in her hand, did the thought pierce her more strongly than ever before.
Her free hand grasped for the flower she had been given, and she held it tightly, and thought of the sage's face.
"I told you." The sage said sadly, appearing as if they had been expected this. "Your soul, nay, the souls of both yourself, and the friend which you have dammed, are now heavy with Fate's weave."
At this point all the puppets on the stage froze, and the music ground to a sudden halt. Alice closed her book, and walked from the side into the very center, the spotlight following her as she went.
"It is here," she said, "that our tale becomes unclear, for there are more endings than there are colors in the world, the truth having been lost to time. Some say now that the sage performed some unknown magic, and saved the both of them. More others believe that Fate herself took pity on both the girl and her friend, and elevated them both to divinity, where they now watch over all those who struggle in their lives. And yet others say that even now, somewhere, the girl continues her journey, fighting against the inevitability of fate. Whichever end you choose to believe, I hope you will remember this single tale: this story, of a single, insignificant girl."
With that, Alice took a bow, and the curtains began to close. As the lights returned, a hesitant applause began, before it became more rousing and sustained.
"I don't like that story." Harry found himself saying, the moment it was polite to talk. There was something it in that rubbed him the wrong way, and he had a very strong suspicion why he was so unsettled.
"I don't know," Luna said. "It's kind of romantic, isn't it? Throwing away your life for a single person?"
"I guess it could sort of be." Harry was unconvinced, as he raised his arms skyward to stretch. "But I think a better ending would be, hmm. Maybe the girl somehow gets enough magic and goes to slap Fate in the face."
Luna gave him an odd look (which was saying something, since it was Luna.)
"I wouldn't think too much of that story, Mr Potter." Xenophilius said from across Luna (having been seated on her other side), and Harry jumped–he had nearly forgotten Luna's father was there. "It is a mere story, after all."
I know you said the same thing to Mr Diggory, but I may literally have one of the Deathly Hallows with me right here and now. Harry's hand patted a lump in one of his bigger pockets.
"All the same, Mr Lovegood." He decided to say, non-committedly.
The Grand Guignol Orchestra was first mentioned in Chapter 5.
This should be the last of the bigger Chekov's Guns. Much like how the magicals of Britain don't seem to follow Muggle fairy tales, I figured neither would the magicals in Japan. Now I get to watch all of you wait thirty chapters to see where this'll come back again, bwa ha ha. And mark my words, I did not write a whole story-within-a-story for nothing.
Of course, for those of you that know what it's heavily referencing, remember that it's not exactly the same. Similar, but not exactly the same.
On another note, Merry (no pun intended) Christmas! Trust me, I would have put out this chapter sooner if I could, but this makes for a nice coincidence.
Next chapter: The Doll Maker of Bucuresti.
Review please!