"There are three psychomantic spells," Onyx intoned. "The first one is the VALIS spell. This spell, if done correctly, perverts reality. A controlled spell can have an effect on anything from the entire universe to one object." She wrote the word VALIS on the board and kept talking.
"The second spell is the UBIK spell. This spell can change reality. A controlled spell can affect anything from a single object to the entire timeline, as in the VALIS spell." She wrote UBIK on the board and kept talking.
"We will compare and contrast these spells. I will perform them for you, and eventually you may perform these yourself." She stood facing the class. "Are there any questions?"
Hermione raised her hand. "What's the third spell?"
Onyx looked at her, surprised. "Excuse me."
"You said that there are three psychomantic spells," Hermione said. "But you've only told us about two of them. What's the third one?"
Onyx smiled coldly. "Nothing," she said. "An advanced and arcane formula. It isn't even used anymore. A Freudian slip. Forget I mentioned it." She turned to the blackboard. "Now—"
"Are we ever going to learn it?" Hermione pressed.
Onyx glared at her. "No. Do not speak of it again. Now, if you would—"
"Well, isn't it a bit unfair to tell us that there are three spells, not tell us about the third one, and then tell us that we're not ever going to learn it?" Hermione was staring at Onyx.
Onyx smashed the chalk against the blackboard, making everyone jump. She slowly turned around and leveled her steely gaze at Hermione. "Do you, by any chance, have obsessive compulsive disorder, my dear?"
Hermione pressed herself against the back of her seat. "No. Not anymore." Her voice was a whisper.
Onyx smiled grimly. "This may be a good chance to learn the psychomantic curse. This spell," she said, lapsing into stentorian classroom tones, "is called the Weatherwax spell, after the witch who created it. It induces symptoms of psychological diseases in people. In order to use it, you must define the disease in psychomantic runes." She looked at Hermione over the top of her glasses. "Neurotica Och-Gamma-Mem. Does that answer your question?"
The rest of the period went off without a hitch. Hermione sat there with her eyes shut and didn't move when it was time to go.
Harry shook her gently. "Hey, wake up."
Hermione opened her eyes twisted her head slightly to look at him. It seemed to take her a large amount of effort. "If I do anything weird," she said, through clenched teeth, "if I twitch, or try to do anything in a pattern, kill me, all right? I don't know how long this is going to last. To last," she added. This seemed to make her slightly more relaxed.
Ron stared at her. "Um…are you feeling okay?"
Hermione shook her head and carefully got out of her chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She lowered the veil onto her head. The official garb of the Shadow Lady.
It was a title, not a name. The Shadow Lady had been passed down as a legend for ages. She was the original Lilith, the woman, independent, but drawing power from others; wicked and sinful, but objective and pure; dark and sexual.
And it was she.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A raven fluttered into Albus Dumbledore's window. He looked up in surprise.
The raven cocked its head. "Nevermore, you bastard," it said. It extended its foot to him, holding a letter.
Albus sighed. Only one woman had that kind of sense of humor, to teach a raven to say something stupid like that.
He took the letter. "From Madeline, I suppose."
The raven nodded. "Nevermore, you bastard."
Albus glared at it. "Shut up and let me read this."
Albus: Shadow Lady is back. She's really looking
forward to seeing you again. Why don't' you drop by sometime for tea?
Albus groaned. The Shadow Lady was the only person in the world that could successfully condescend to him. The last time he'd seen her, he had gone away with the feeling that he was doing something severely wrong.
But her word was quite nearly law. The Shadow Lady was on the administrative board of the Llewellyn school district, which governed all the magical schools in this dimension. The last time he had crossed her, the funding to Hogwarts had dropped by nearly 25%. He couldn't risk that again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marina was waiting for him at the door. She smiled beatifically. "Albus. How good of you to come."
Albus nodded. "It's good to come. Ah…where is the Lady herself?"
Marina jerked her thumb back. "In the parlor. You remember the way?"
"All too well," Albus said.
Shadow Lady was sitting on an overstuffed velvet chair. She was wearing a long, black silk dress, with a velvet-strapped bodice and double-hemmed lace sleeves. There was a black lace veil over her face, and she was wearing black gloves.
She nodded at him. "Albus."
Albus settled into an embroidered sofa. "Lady."
Shadow Lady leaned forward, arranging the tea things. "You look healthy."
"I would say the same for you," Albus said, "except that I can't tell."
A slight laugh. "Very good. I have little or no influence on material things in my present, ethereal form. In order to manifest myself at all upon any part of the world that is composed of matter, I must completely cover myself. Cream or lemon?"
"Neither, if you would." Albus took the proffered teacup. It was lukewarm. "You don't like hot tea?"
"I have what they call a cat's tongue," Shadow Lady explained. "I dislike extremes."
"That explains a lot," commented Albus.
Shadow Lady paused. "You've gotten sharper over the years. I am impressed."
Albus leaned back. "You haven't been around to wear me down with your tongue, hmm?"
"Double entendres are the crudest form of wit," Shadow Lady snapped.
Albus took a long, slow sip of his tea. "I apologize," he said primly.
Shadow Lady lounged in her chair. "Do you know what a succubus is?" she asked him.
Albus shrugged. "I don't believe I've heard of them."
"They are," Shadow Lady told him, "a cross between Dementors and veelas. A succubus will slip into your bed at night, and then drain your energy." She stirred her tea slowly. "I'm only wondering."
Albus nodded. "Ah, yes. The offspring of a Dementor and a veela. I believe one was at large a few years ago."
"It was." Shadow Lady took a long, slow sip of her tea. "They caught her, and put her into Azkaban. As I've heard, she was not affected by the Dementors, being one herself."
"Do tell." Albus crossed his legs.
"She called herself Dementress. She apparently had the ability to change shape at will, and managed to fool the human guards into believing…well, a number of things. They eventually promoted her to prison psychomancer."
"Really." Albus was listening intently.
"According to the report," Shadow Lady went on, "she made quite a few of the prisoners fall in love with her. She helped Sirius Black escape, and then strolled out of the place." She took another drink of her tea. "Quite smooth, to tell you the truth."
Albus looked at his teacup. "The tea?"
Shadow Lady looked at him over the rim of her cup. "No, the way she walked out on the prison. Didn't even bother with a disguise." She drained the last of her tea, set the cup down with a clink, and gave him a bright smile. "Would you like some macaroons?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry knocked on the door to Onyx Orion's chamber. "Excuse me? Is there anyone in there?"
Onyx opened the door a crack and poked her head out. "What can I do for you?"
Harry went blank. "Uh…I was…"
Onyx opened the door and drew him into her chamber. She quietly closed the door and sat on the bed. "Now. What did you want?"
Harry looked around the room. It was very sparse. There were no ornamentations at all, except for a single hand mirror that was hung upside down on the wall.
He remembered what he had come for. "I've come to ask you to take the curse off of Hermione." He gulped. "The one that you put on her, I mean."
Onyx gazed tiredly at him. "I put no curse on her."
Harry was shocked. "But—I saw you—what do you mean?"
"Obsessive-compulsive disorder runs in Hermione's family," Onyx explained to him. "It's manifested in her mother as bulimia and a preoccupation with cleanliness, the last of which is very important to her profession. In her father, it's manifested as a preoccupation with memorization and an inferiority complex, both of which have been passed on to Hermione. That's why she spends so much time studying."
"That explains a lot," Harry said. "But if you didn't put a curse on her, what did you do?"
"I simply triggered the disorder," Onyx said. "In many cases of OCD, it manifests as nonsense words or random thoughts running through the victim's head. The words Neurotica Och-Gamma-Mem are probably running through Hermione's head. With that comes the preoccupation with rituals, and numbers. Have you noticed if she is speaking in certain amounts of syllables?"
"No," Harry said. "She hasn't been speaking much at all since you…did whatever."
"Triggered the disorder," Onyx said. "Next time she speaks, note the number of syllables. It's probably a multiple of four or eight. Notice also if she twitches or taps her fingers in a certain pattern—anything like that."
"Yeah," Harry said. He got up to go. "Okay. Thanks."
"One more thing," Onyx said. "Tell Sirius Black I said hi."