Golden Elixir II, Chapter Nine
Apollo looked around the large open plain yet again, her eyes searching among the fluttering crimson streamers and multicoloured school banners, but not finding what she sought. Her task was not helped by the fact that so many people had crowded the field that day, many of whom were not in Durmstrang colours and, at any rate, were far too old to be students. This particular trial had drawn quite an audience, for some reason. Along with the spectators, most of Durmstrang's student body was seated in stands arrayed alongside one wall of the castle, loudly cheering their champions who were parading around as if they had already won the trial. The judges had taken their places several minutes before on a small, red draped dais alongside them, while the sole remaining Beauxbatons' champion stood a little way off from she and Sev, trying not to shiver in the chill wind that swept through gaps in the forest.
The problem was not with those who were there, but rather with those who were conspicuously absent: Augusta was not to be found among the judges, Etienne and his group of thugs were nowhere to be seen and, most irritating of all, Sophicles had disappeared. "Where is he? If he doesn't get here soon, he'll forfeit!" Apollo pulled her heavy cloak more securely around her as a particularly frigid gust of wind passed them by. "If those bastards have done anything to him . . . " It suddenly occurred to her that Severus had said nothing to any comment she'd made in the last five minutes. Glancing up at him, she saw his eyes fixed on a distant gap in the trees. Apollo squinted, but could see nothing particularly odd about it, just another group of the thick conifers that surrounded this desolate place, and not even a particularly attractive cluster at that . . . although, come to think of it, there did seem to be something a little odd happening. It looked, she thought, rather as if the wind had decided to concentrate on them for some reason, as they were all waving madly from side to side although the trees around them were mostly still.
Zosimus, who had never had particularly good far sighted vision, put a hand up to her eyes to shield them from the bright morning sunlight, and tried to puzzle it out. Oh, she thought as sudden comprehension dawned, it isn't wind at all. Something was headed their way through the trees, and its progress was causing them to bend back and forth as it passed. Well, it must be something big, she thought briefly, before Severus gripped her upper arm in a sudden, convulsive movement. Looking at him, Apollo saw the colour in his face had drained away, leaving him almost deathly pale. He swallowed convulsively, but didn't say anything. "Severus, let go of me, that hurts," she complained, then forgot all about the ache in her arm as her attention was drawn back to the forest by a loud crashing sound.
"Oh." It was all she could think of to say, as their next trial emerged from the surrounding cover. Even Zosimus had no difficulty at all making THEM out. Severus made a choking noise, but Apollo was too intrigued to pay him much attention for once. How amazing. She'd never had the opportunity to actually see any giants before, and was now realising that the stories she'd been told about them had not been exaggerations after all. "My, they really ARE huge, aren't they?"
The stands behind them had all grown quiet, the raucous clamour having immediately hushed as if a door had closed, blocking it out. Severus, on the other hand, suddenly became vocal. "Have you ever dealt with them before?," he demanded in a low, urgent tone.
Apollo regarded him with amusement. "Oh yes, the whole family used to go giant hunting every summer, rather a traditional sport . . . "
"I'm serious," he hissed, and indeed, he certainly looked it.
"Well then, act like it. Where would a properly brought up young . . . person . . . such as myself come into contact with THEM?," she waved a hand at the five massive beings who had stopped just outside the forest's edge, leaning on their clubs and gazing hungrily in the direction of Durmstrang. God, she wished the wind would blow in the other direction; she could smell them even over here. Then she realised that it was, in fact, blowing toward the creatures, not away from them. Circe, they must really reek! "There hasn't been any of their kind in France for . . .oh, I don't know, at least a few centuries. And they don't exactly get invited to the right sort of parties, do they?"
Severus nodded slightly. "Right, then. You go tell the judges that you've decided to withdraw. I'll keep us in the contest so that we have an excuse to remain until Albus is found." He had continued to look in undisguised loathing at the creatures across the field while speaking, but at her snort of laughter, he turned his currently bright blue eyes on her. It was so strange to see Albus' usually benign features wearing one of Sev's expressions that she almost laughed. "You WILL withdraw, Apollo," he told her, looking murderous.
She pried his fingers off her bicep and straightened the dull Hogwarts robe she was forced to wear for the competition. "You are quite mad," she informed him flatly.
"Apollo . . . "
They were interrupted by a ringing trumpet blast followed by the magically enhanced voice of the Durmstrang Headmaster. He explained, at what Apollo thought was completely unnecessary length, the rules of this particular trial. What it all came down to was that each of the monsters across the field wore a pendant around its smelly neck--a token that had to be retrieved by any champion who wished to remain in the contest. As there were only five giants, only a maximum of five of the remaining contestants could move into the final elimination round.
Apollo had to piece this information together while fending off more ridiculous demands from her companion. "Oh for God's sake, Severus," she finally hissed at him as the trumpet sounded again signaling the beginning of the trial. "I am most certainly NOT going to withdraw and," she added, eyes flashing warningly, "if you try to hex me when I'm not looking I'll be worse than all five giants to you when I wake up!" He was regarding her, she noticed with alarm, through narrowed eyes and with an expression that did not bode well for her immediate safety. "Sev, Etienne is almost certainly lurking around somewhere--think about that before you leave me wounded or unconscious to his tender ministrations." She would have said more, but her attention was distracted again by the five mountainous beings suddenly turning as one and disappearing back into the forest. "Where are they going? How are we supposed to hex them if they won't stand still?"
Severus muttered something that sounded like "will be the death of me," but surely she'd heard wrong. Then he grabbed her again, by the wrist thankfully as her arm was still sore, and pulled her across the field in the same direction the giants had disappeared. The other champions were also streaming after them. Apollo suddenly realised that this trial was going to consist of giant hunting in an unfamiliar forest that, for all she knew, was filled with Durmstrang booby traps and other champions more than happy to hex them out of existence. She cheered up immediately. This should be fun.
* * *
"And precisely what do you think you're doing?"
Albus looked up from the steam filled cauldron in front of him as a voice made its way through his fog of concentration. He was worried about the state of the potion, as it was currently a runny greenish yellow, which did not look right somehow. Although, it was impossible to be certain as the instructions he'd been given were far from precise. Half the time they gave no hint as to the way the potion should look at a particular stage, not to mention that they were written in the most archaic form of Gaelic he'd ever seen . . .
"I asked you a question."
Albus regarded the tall, dark haired young man leaning against the doorframe in some annoyance. He'd only had a few hours sleep the night before, as the potion could not be left unattended for long, and he was not in the best of moods. The last thing he needed now was a distraction. "I don't think you should be here," he informed him shortly. Augusta had mentioned nothing about him receiving any assistance, and he didn't want to be disqualified for engaging in some forbidden conversation.
The other man smiled, although it was not a particularly nice expression. "How odd. I was about to say the same thing to you."
Albus turned back to his scroll. It was hard to keep his mind off the potion for very long. Something about it was simply fascinating. He had forgotten all about his visitor and was wondering if the veela hair was supposed to be cut up or not--the damned scroll didn't say--when he was hit by a particularly strong spell of some kind. It knocked him back against the table behind him, scattering some of his carefully prepared ingredients across the floor. He remained conscious, however, and, strangely enough, appeared unhurt. An odd spell to use for an attack, he thought, as his eyes misted over. When they cleared again a few seconds later, he had a chance to notice his surroundings.
For a moment he thought he had been transported somewhere else, as his eyes took in the ruin of a room around him. Hung with huge, ancient cobwebs and filled with rubbish, it bore little resemblance to the beautiful chamber in which he'd been working a few seconds before, except for its size and unusual shape. And the fact that the annoying man was still there, arms crossed and black robes falling about him in unstudied elegance. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but for the moment it eluded Albus. Looking about, he was surprised to see the cauldron with which he had been working, complete with the small tripod underneath it filled with the same purple flames. It was then he realised that he had not, in fact, moved an inch, and wondered why the man had cast such an unappealing illusion around him. He noticed a rat shuffling through some detritus along a nearby wall, but pulled his somewhat fuzzy consciousness away from it and back to his companion.
"Not as pretty now, is it?," the man asked, one brow lifted in sardonic amusement. It was then Albus was able to place him. It simply had to be . . . "Hieronymus?"
He received an approving glint from those black eyes. "Not as slow as you look, are you?" Hieronymus de Plannis sauntered over to the cauldron and peered in disapprovingly. "What step are you on?"
"Seventy-six," Albus responded, unthinkingly. He wished his head would clear as quickly as his vision had done. He felt strange, as if some voice was screaming at him from a very great distance, but he couldn't quite make it out. It seemed very insistent, however, as if there was something important he had forgotten to do.
"Odd," the man sniffed the light green steam rising from the bubbling mixture. "Mine was orange at this stage. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "mine didn't work, either." He glanced at Albus thoughtfully for a minute, "if we had time, I'd like to see you finish it--it would save me so much effort later on." He suddenly became brisk, "but, we don't, so come along, we have to be going."
"Going?," Albus pulled back as the other man gestured toward the open door. "I can't go. I am not even a tenth of the way through the scroll, and Augusta didn't tell me how long the trial lasts."
"The trial?," the man looked confused for an instant, then his brow cleared and he smiled, very slightly. "Oh, so that's what she used, was it? I had wondered." He aimed his wand at Albus again, who found that his own was missing when he instinctively reached for it. "I don't have time to argue with you and I don't know everything my dear patroness used on you, so I can't reverse all of it. You're just going to have to come with me. I'll show you something that may do more than words ever could to demonstrate exactly what is going on. Then you and I are going to have a little talk."
* * *
Delaia rolled out of bed and saw, with some consternation, that the sun was already well up in the sky. She had spent most of the previous evening, and half the night, on another useless search of more claustrophobic tunnels, storerooms and seemingly endless connecting corridors--with the same disappointing result as before. She had finally staggered into bed sometime in the early morning, just intending to get a few hours rest and then head out again while everyone was at the contest. It had occurred to her that Severus' idea that Albus was probably being kept in some out of the way storage facility might be wrong, and that, if she was ever going to have a chance to search the faculty and staff rooms, the trial would be it. So she cursed herself as every kind of fool as she splashed water on her face and tried desperately to wake up. Half the morning was already gone, and with it much valuable time.
Delaia pulled open the door of the shower stall, intending to get a quick bath in the hope that it would finish the job of clearing her brain, when she came face to face with a very red-faced Valentin. Clutching the large towel she'd tucked around herself a little tighter, she stared at the boy. "Valentin! What are you doing hiding in there?"
The boy's embarrassment faded as he determined that she was, indeed, decently covered, and was replaced by a look that could only be fear. "She's looking for me. She came to the infirmary this morning, but I managed to get away just in time. She wants this back--says it has done all it can for me." One age spotted hand clutched protectively at the silver talisman on its sturdy chain about his neck. "But I'm not giving it back!" His voice shook but sounded resolute. "She'll just use it on somebody else, and she'll stay young forever, while we . . . ," his dark eyes filled with tears and yet he managed to look angry all the same.
He obviously couldn't finish, but Delaia didn't need him to. She knew, of course, who "she" was--there was only one person spoken of in that particular tone of voice at Durmstrang--and Delaia happened to agree with him. There was no way Augusta was getting that talisman back--not ever. Merlin only knew how many lives would suffer for it if she did.
Delaia pulled the shivering boy out of the stall and sent him into her room while she took a very quick bath. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but destroying the thing seemed the most sensible. It was a powerful magical object, true, but none were so much so that they could not be defeated. You just had to discover their weaknesses. It was as the hot water was gushing over her hair, allowing some of the accumulated grey dust of the previous day's search to wash away, that it happened. Her mind conjured up the image of Valentin with his boy's body but old man's features, framed by prematurely grey hair that would never be black again no matter how much he washed it, and something snapped. No. She turned off the water and briskly dried herself. She still wasn't clean, but after days of crawling around Durmstrang, in some cases literally, she thought it would probably take a week at a luxury spa to ever make her feel truly clean again. At the moment she didn't care anyway. Her mind was busy with more important matters, specifically with the beginnings of a wicked little plan that might right a few of the many things wrong at Durmstrang.
"Alright, Valentin," she said, emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, attired in her last clean robe. "I need you to tell me everything you know about how the talisman works."
* * *
Severus felt like a hundred ants were tap dancing up and down his spine, but knew it was only nerves. At least, he hoped it was--God knew what hideous enchantments might have been placed on any insects around here. Even worse than the feeling that he was being watched, and not by friendly eyes, was the insufferable cheerfulness of the witch at his side. He had actually had to order her a few minutes before to stop HUMMING for Merlin's sake! In a wood full of monsters whose favourite meal was human flesh, preferably while said human was still alive and writhing in agony, Apollo looked like she was setting off for a pleasant day's shopping in the Avenue Inclinée.
Severus had done everything he could think of to safeguard them, and now that Apollo was at least being quiet for a change, he could try to think what, if anything, he'd forgotten. They had spelled each other to avoid giving off any odor, no matter how undetectable to humans, as giants' sense of smell was particularly acute. They had also cast strong do not notice charms on each other, so that they could hopefully pass undetected by sight as well. The problem for Severus was that, although he did have some experience with the creatures, it was not particularly useful under these circumstances.
The last time Voldemort had been active, some giants had fought on his side and Severus had seen just what they could do in battle. Standard spells simply washed over them. It was rather the inverse of what had happened with Apollo's potion and the house elves. Smaller creatures with a dissimilar metabolism to humans, they had reacted much more strongly to the deinhibitor than Durmstrang's students would have done. The giants, on the other hand, shook off most spells that were thrown at them, even by experienced Aurors, and just kept going. It took the combined efforts of two or, in many cases, three wizards, to bring one down, and even then it was risky. He only had one assistant, and one who refused to take their predicament seriously at that, and no real experience fighting the creatures himself. He had, after all, been on their side in his few previous encounters. Not, he recalled with a shiver, that that fact had kept them from openly drooling whenever he and his fellow death eaters had been around. He frankly doubted that the giants had cared, once in the thick of the fight, exactly who formed their midnight snack. He had always taken good care to keep as far away from them as possible, a maxim he sincerely wished he could keep to at the moment.
Apollo, he noted, had stopped and was regarding a small tree in front of her. "This is perfect," she said with satisfaction.
"Perfect for what? Those things have clubs larger than that."
"So?," she looked at him archly over her shoulder. "I'm not planning to hit them with it." She rolled up the sleeves of her uncharacteristically plain robes and brought out her wand. "Transfiguration was never my strong suit, so you might want to stand back a bit. I happen to like you the way you are."
Severus moved out of the way, wishing she would refrain from pointless comments like that. As soon as they found Albus, he and Delaia's job was done. They would go back to their time, Apollo and Albus would stay in theirs. Nothing else was possible--without their combined opposition, Grindlewald would take over the wizarding world in the 40's, and, even if he didn't, Voldemort would certainly triumph in his first bid for power four decades later. Harry bloody Potter might have gotten all the fame for his defeat, but Severus had been there and knew too well just how many times Albus had thwarted Voldemort's plans before the Potter brat was ever involved. He didn't know just how much of a part Zosimus had played in the dark lord's initial defeat, but he imagined it had been considerable. God knows, she certainly did not seem capable of resisting trouble in this time period, why should an older version be any different?
Apollo broke into his reverie by sending a blast of yellow light towards the small tree in front of her, transforming it into a large, three tiered cake, complete with bright pink frosting.
"And just what is that supposed to be?"
"Bait," was her succinct reply. She drew a potion vial out of her robes and, before he could stop her, plucked a long hair from his head. Adding the two together, she watched as the mixture turned a bright pink to match the cake, then poured it all over top of the confection. It did mar the icing slightly as it sank in, but Apollo fixed that with a wave of her wand. She stepped back, looking satisfied. "There, now all we need to do is wait until one of them comes along and eats it."
"I sincerely hope," he began, trying his best to keep his voice level, "that you did not just pour a love potion over that thing."
"Oh, don't worry--it will work. I made it quite strong," she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bushes. "I used the whole vial, didn't you see? Any giant who eats THAT will adore you, darling. When they pick you up for a cuddle, you grab the token."
"A cuddle?" Severus was close to incoherence. Before he could raise his wand to blast out of existence Apollo's latest venture into absurdity, a crashing sound in the undergrowth alerted him to the fact that they were no longer alone. It was not one of the giants that burst into the clearing, however, but rather four boys in Beauxbatons blue followed by four in Durmstrang red. Severus thought for a minute that that he and Apollo might be witnessing the beginning of a duel between the schools, as all eight had their wands out and looked frankly murderous, but the blond boy in front soon disabused him of that comforting hope.
"Oh, Apollo, dearest. Come out, come out, wherever you are. A few friends and I would like a word."
Apollo looked around the large open plain yet again, her eyes searching among the fluttering crimson streamers and multicoloured school banners, but not finding what she sought. Her task was not helped by the fact that so many people had crowded the field that day, many of whom were not in Durmstrang colours and, at any rate, were far too old to be students. This particular trial had drawn quite an audience, for some reason. Along with the spectators, most of Durmstrang's student body was seated in stands arrayed alongside one wall of the castle, loudly cheering their champions who were parading around as if they had already won the trial. The judges had taken their places several minutes before on a small, red draped dais alongside them, while the sole remaining Beauxbatons' champion stood a little way off from she and Sev, trying not to shiver in the chill wind that swept through gaps in the forest.
The problem was not with those who were there, but rather with those who were conspicuously absent: Augusta was not to be found among the judges, Etienne and his group of thugs were nowhere to be seen and, most irritating of all, Sophicles had disappeared. "Where is he? If he doesn't get here soon, he'll forfeit!" Apollo pulled her heavy cloak more securely around her as a particularly frigid gust of wind passed them by. "If those bastards have done anything to him . . . " It suddenly occurred to her that Severus had said nothing to any comment she'd made in the last five minutes. Glancing up at him, she saw his eyes fixed on a distant gap in the trees. Apollo squinted, but could see nothing particularly odd about it, just another group of the thick conifers that surrounded this desolate place, and not even a particularly attractive cluster at that . . . although, come to think of it, there did seem to be something a little odd happening. It looked, she thought, rather as if the wind had decided to concentrate on them for some reason, as they were all waving madly from side to side although the trees around them were mostly still.
Zosimus, who had never had particularly good far sighted vision, put a hand up to her eyes to shield them from the bright morning sunlight, and tried to puzzle it out. Oh, she thought as sudden comprehension dawned, it isn't wind at all. Something was headed their way through the trees, and its progress was causing them to bend back and forth as it passed. Well, it must be something big, she thought briefly, before Severus gripped her upper arm in a sudden, convulsive movement. Looking at him, Apollo saw the colour in his face had drained away, leaving him almost deathly pale. He swallowed convulsively, but didn't say anything. "Severus, let go of me, that hurts," she complained, then forgot all about the ache in her arm as her attention was drawn back to the forest by a loud crashing sound.
"Oh." It was all she could think of to say, as their next trial emerged from the surrounding cover. Even Zosimus had no difficulty at all making THEM out. Severus made a choking noise, but Apollo was too intrigued to pay him much attention for once. How amazing. She'd never had the opportunity to actually see any giants before, and was now realising that the stories she'd been told about them had not been exaggerations after all. "My, they really ARE huge, aren't they?"
The stands behind them had all grown quiet, the raucous clamour having immediately hushed as if a door had closed, blocking it out. Severus, on the other hand, suddenly became vocal. "Have you ever dealt with them before?," he demanded in a low, urgent tone.
Apollo regarded him with amusement. "Oh yes, the whole family used to go giant hunting every summer, rather a traditional sport . . . "
"I'm serious," he hissed, and indeed, he certainly looked it.
"Well then, act like it. Where would a properly brought up young . . . person . . . such as myself come into contact with THEM?," she waved a hand at the five massive beings who had stopped just outside the forest's edge, leaning on their clubs and gazing hungrily in the direction of Durmstrang. God, she wished the wind would blow in the other direction; she could smell them even over here. Then she realised that it was, in fact, blowing toward the creatures, not away from them. Circe, they must really reek! "There hasn't been any of their kind in France for . . .oh, I don't know, at least a few centuries. And they don't exactly get invited to the right sort of parties, do they?"
Severus nodded slightly. "Right, then. You go tell the judges that you've decided to withdraw. I'll keep us in the contest so that we have an excuse to remain until Albus is found." He had continued to look in undisguised loathing at the creatures across the field while speaking, but at her snort of laughter, he turned his currently bright blue eyes on her. It was so strange to see Albus' usually benign features wearing one of Sev's expressions that she almost laughed. "You WILL withdraw, Apollo," he told her, looking murderous.
She pried his fingers off her bicep and straightened the dull Hogwarts robe she was forced to wear for the competition. "You are quite mad," she informed him flatly.
"Apollo . . . "
They were interrupted by a ringing trumpet blast followed by the magically enhanced voice of the Durmstrang Headmaster. He explained, at what Apollo thought was completely unnecessary length, the rules of this particular trial. What it all came down to was that each of the monsters across the field wore a pendant around its smelly neck--a token that had to be retrieved by any champion who wished to remain in the contest. As there were only five giants, only a maximum of five of the remaining contestants could move into the final elimination round.
Apollo had to piece this information together while fending off more ridiculous demands from her companion. "Oh for God's sake, Severus," she finally hissed at him as the trumpet sounded again signaling the beginning of the trial. "I am most certainly NOT going to withdraw and," she added, eyes flashing warningly, "if you try to hex me when I'm not looking I'll be worse than all five giants to you when I wake up!" He was regarding her, she noticed with alarm, through narrowed eyes and with an expression that did not bode well for her immediate safety. "Sev, Etienne is almost certainly lurking around somewhere--think about that before you leave me wounded or unconscious to his tender ministrations." She would have said more, but her attention was distracted again by the five mountainous beings suddenly turning as one and disappearing back into the forest. "Where are they going? How are we supposed to hex them if they won't stand still?"
Severus muttered something that sounded like "will be the death of me," but surely she'd heard wrong. Then he grabbed her again, by the wrist thankfully as her arm was still sore, and pulled her across the field in the same direction the giants had disappeared. The other champions were also streaming after them. Apollo suddenly realised that this trial was going to consist of giant hunting in an unfamiliar forest that, for all she knew, was filled with Durmstrang booby traps and other champions more than happy to hex them out of existence. She cheered up immediately. This should be fun.
* * *
"And precisely what do you think you're doing?"
Albus looked up from the steam filled cauldron in front of him as a voice made its way through his fog of concentration. He was worried about the state of the potion, as it was currently a runny greenish yellow, which did not look right somehow. Although, it was impossible to be certain as the instructions he'd been given were far from precise. Half the time they gave no hint as to the way the potion should look at a particular stage, not to mention that they were written in the most archaic form of Gaelic he'd ever seen . . .
"I asked you a question."
Albus regarded the tall, dark haired young man leaning against the doorframe in some annoyance. He'd only had a few hours sleep the night before, as the potion could not be left unattended for long, and he was not in the best of moods. The last thing he needed now was a distraction. "I don't think you should be here," he informed him shortly. Augusta had mentioned nothing about him receiving any assistance, and he didn't want to be disqualified for engaging in some forbidden conversation.
The other man smiled, although it was not a particularly nice expression. "How odd. I was about to say the same thing to you."
Albus turned back to his scroll. It was hard to keep his mind off the potion for very long. Something about it was simply fascinating. He had forgotten all about his visitor and was wondering if the veela hair was supposed to be cut up or not--the damned scroll didn't say--when he was hit by a particularly strong spell of some kind. It knocked him back against the table behind him, scattering some of his carefully prepared ingredients across the floor. He remained conscious, however, and, strangely enough, appeared unhurt. An odd spell to use for an attack, he thought, as his eyes misted over. When they cleared again a few seconds later, he had a chance to notice his surroundings.
For a moment he thought he had been transported somewhere else, as his eyes took in the ruin of a room around him. Hung with huge, ancient cobwebs and filled with rubbish, it bore little resemblance to the beautiful chamber in which he'd been working a few seconds before, except for its size and unusual shape. And the fact that the annoying man was still there, arms crossed and black robes falling about him in unstudied elegance. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but for the moment it eluded Albus. Looking about, he was surprised to see the cauldron with which he had been working, complete with the small tripod underneath it filled with the same purple flames. It was then he realised that he had not, in fact, moved an inch, and wondered why the man had cast such an unappealing illusion around him. He noticed a rat shuffling through some detritus along a nearby wall, but pulled his somewhat fuzzy consciousness away from it and back to his companion.
"Not as pretty now, is it?," the man asked, one brow lifted in sardonic amusement. It was then Albus was able to place him. It simply had to be . . . "Hieronymus?"
He received an approving glint from those black eyes. "Not as slow as you look, are you?" Hieronymus de Plannis sauntered over to the cauldron and peered in disapprovingly. "What step are you on?"
"Seventy-six," Albus responded, unthinkingly. He wished his head would clear as quickly as his vision had done. He felt strange, as if some voice was screaming at him from a very great distance, but he couldn't quite make it out. It seemed very insistent, however, as if there was something important he had forgotten to do.
"Odd," the man sniffed the light green steam rising from the bubbling mixture. "Mine was orange at this stage. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "mine didn't work, either." He glanced at Albus thoughtfully for a minute, "if we had time, I'd like to see you finish it--it would save me so much effort later on." He suddenly became brisk, "but, we don't, so come along, we have to be going."
"Going?," Albus pulled back as the other man gestured toward the open door. "I can't go. I am not even a tenth of the way through the scroll, and Augusta didn't tell me how long the trial lasts."
"The trial?," the man looked confused for an instant, then his brow cleared and he smiled, very slightly. "Oh, so that's what she used, was it? I had wondered." He aimed his wand at Albus again, who found that his own was missing when he instinctively reached for it. "I don't have time to argue with you and I don't know everything my dear patroness used on you, so I can't reverse all of it. You're just going to have to come with me. I'll show you something that may do more than words ever could to demonstrate exactly what is going on. Then you and I are going to have a little talk."
* * *
Delaia rolled out of bed and saw, with some consternation, that the sun was already well up in the sky. She had spent most of the previous evening, and half the night, on another useless search of more claustrophobic tunnels, storerooms and seemingly endless connecting corridors--with the same disappointing result as before. She had finally staggered into bed sometime in the early morning, just intending to get a few hours rest and then head out again while everyone was at the contest. It had occurred to her that Severus' idea that Albus was probably being kept in some out of the way storage facility might be wrong, and that, if she was ever going to have a chance to search the faculty and staff rooms, the trial would be it. So she cursed herself as every kind of fool as she splashed water on her face and tried desperately to wake up. Half the morning was already gone, and with it much valuable time.
Delaia pulled open the door of the shower stall, intending to get a quick bath in the hope that it would finish the job of clearing her brain, when she came face to face with a very red-faced Valentin. Clutching the large towel she'd tucked around herself a little tighter, she stared at the boy. "Valentin! What are you doing hiding in there?"
The boy's embarrassment faded as he determined that she was, indeed, decently covered, and was replaced by a look that could only be fear. "She's looking for me. She came to the infirmary this morning, but I managed to get away just in time. She wants this back--says it has done all it can for me." One age spotted hand clutched protectively at the silver talisman on its sturdy chain about his neck. "But I'm not giving it back!" His voice shook but sounded resolute. "She'll just use it on somebody else, and she'll stay young forever, while we . . . ," his dark eyes filled with tears and yet he managed to look angry all the same.
He obviously couldn't finish, but Delaia didn't need him to. She knew, of course, who "she" was--there was only one person spoken of in that particular tone of voice at Durmstrang--and Delaia happened to agree with him. There was no way Augusta was getting that talisman back--not ever. Merlin only knew how many lives would suffer for it if she did.
Delaia pulled the shivering boy out of the stall and sent him into her room while she took a very quick bath. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but destroying the thing seemed the most sensible. It was a powerful magical object, true, but none were so much so that they could not be defeated. You just had to discover their weaknesses. It was as the hot water was gushing over her hair, allowing some of the accumulated grey dust of the previous day's search to wash away, that it happened. Her mind conjured up the image of Valentin with his boy's body but old man's features, framed by prematurely grey hair that would never be black again no matter how much he washed it, and something snapped. No. She turned off the water and briskly dried herself. She still wasn't clean, but after days of crawling around Durmstrang, in some cases literally, she thought it would probably take a week at a luxury spa to ever make her feel truly clean again. At the moment she didn't care anyway. Her mind was busy with more important matters, specifically with the beginnings of a wicked little plan that might right a few of the many things wrong at Durmstrang.
"Alright, Valentin," she said, emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, attired in her last clean robe. "I need you to tell me everything you know about how the talisman works."
* * *
Severus felt like a hundred ants were tap dancing up and down his spine, but knew it was only nerves. At least, he hoped it was--God knew what hideous enchantments might have been placed on any insects around here. Even worse than the feeling that he was being watched, and not by friendly eyes, was the insufferable cheerfulness of the witch at his side. He had actually had to order her a few minutes before to stop HUMMING for Merlin's sake! In a wood full of monsters whose favourite meal was human flesh, preferably while said human was still alive and writhing in agony, Apollo looked like she was setting off for a pleasant day's shopping in the Avenue Inclinée.
Severus had done everything he could think of to safeguard them, and now that Apollo was at least being quiet for a change, he could try to think what, if anything, he'd forgotten. They had spelled each other to avoid giving off any odor, no matter how undetectable to humans, as giants' sense of smell was particularly acute. They had also cast strong do not notice charms on each other, so that they could hopefully pass undetected by sight as well. The problem for Severus was that, although he did have some experience with the creatures, it was not particularly useful under these circumstances.
The last time Voldemort had been active, some giants had fought on his side and Severus had seen just what they could do in battle. Standard spells simply washed over them. It was rather the inverse of what had happened with Apollo's potion and the house elves. Smaller creatures with a dissimilar metabolism to humans, they had reacted much more strongly to the deinhibitor than Durmstrang's students would have done. The giants, on the other hand, shook off most spells that were thrown at them, even by experienced Aurors, and just kept going. It took the combined efforts of two or, in many cases, three wizards, to bring one down, and even then it was risky. He only had one assistant, and one who refused to take their predicament seriously at that, and no real experience fighting the creatures himself. He had, after all, been on their side in his few previous encounters. Not, he recalled with a shiver, that that fact had kept them from openly drooling whenever he and his fellow death eaters had been around. He frankly doubted that the giants had cared, once in the thick of the fight, exactly who formed their midnight snack. He had always taken good care to keep as far away from them as possible, a maxim he sincerely wished he could keep to at the moment.
Apollo, he noted, had stopped and was regarding a small tree in front of her. "This is perfect," she said with satisfaction.
"Perfect for what? Those things have clubs larger than that."
"So?," she looked at him archly over her shoulder. "I'm not planning to hit them with it." She rolled up the sleeves of her uncharacteristically plain robes and brought out her wand. "Transfiguration was never my strong suit, so you might want to stand back a bit. I happen to like you the way you are."
Severus moved out of the way, wishing she would refrain from pointless comments like that. As soon as they found Albus, he and Delaia's job was done. They would go back to their time, Apollo and Albus would stay in theirs. Nothing else was possible--without their combined opposition, Grindlewald would take over the wizarding world in the 40's, and, even if he didn't, Voldemort would certainly triumph in his first bid for power four decades later. Harry bloody Potter might have gotten all the fame for his defeat, but Severus had been there and knew too well just how many times Albus had thwarted Voldemort's plans before the Potter brat was ever involved. He didn't know just how much of a part Zosimus had played in the dark lord's initial defeat, but he imagined it had been considerable. God knows, she certainly did not seem capable of resisting trouble in this time period, why should an older version be any different?
Apollo broke into his reverie by sending a blast of yellow light towards the small tree in front of her, transforming it into a large, three tiered cake, complete with bright pink frosting.
"And just what is that supposed to be?"
"Bait," was her succinct reply. She drew a potion vial out of her robes and, before he could stop her, plucked a long hair from his head. Adding the two together, she watched as the mixture turned a bright pink to match the cake, then poured it all over top of the confection. It did mar the icing slightly as it sank in, but Apollo fixed that with a wave of her wand. She stepped back, looking satisfied. "There, now all we need to do is wait until one of them comes along and eats it."
"I sincerely hope," he began, trying his best to keep his voice level, "that you did not just pour a love potion over that thing."
"Oh, don't worry--it will work. I made it quite strong," she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bushes. "I used the whole vial, didn't you see? Any giant who eats THAT will adore you, darling. When they pick you up for a cuddle, you grab the token."
"A cuddle?" Severus was close to incoherence. Before he could raise his wand to blast out of existence Apollo's latest venture into absurdity, a crashing sound in the undergrowth alerted him to the fact that they were no longer alone. It was not one of the giants that burst into the clearing, however, but rather four boys in Beauxbatons blue followed by four in Durmstrang red. Severus thought for a minute that that he and Apollo might be witnessing the beginning of a duel between the schools, as all eight had their wands out and looked frankly murderous, but the blond boy in front soon disabused him of that comforting hope.
"Oh, Apollo, dearest. Come out, come out, wherever you are. A few friends and I would like a word."