Golden Elixir, Chapter Eleven
Consciousness returned to Albus along with a raging migraine. He was only distracted for a moment by the pain, however, before the day's events came flooding back. The throbbing in his head did not keep him from thinking clearly for the first time in what seemed like days . . . in fact, it was days, he reminded himself. Augusta must have put a hell of a memory spell on him for it to last so long and be so impenetrable. Apparently it also induced extreme gullibility; at least, he hoped so. He would hate to believe he'd swallowed that tripe about needing to create the Philosopher's Stone for the next Triwizard event on his own!
He blearily looked around, carefully avoiding sudden movements that would cause flashes of agony to bounce from one temple to the other. He muttered a healing charm over himself that cut the headache somewhat, but without his wand there was little more he could do. No one other than his parents knew, but his brother wasn't the only one who could do wandless magic; however, his abilities were not on a par with Aberforth's in that area. He suspected that he'd need a potion, or a very long holiday, to get rid of the pain entirely. Memory charms often had that effect when countered, and Hieronymus had not bothered to be too gentle with the removal of his.
Looking around, Albus saw that he was no longer in the chamber of horrors, but was reclining on a comfortable divan in someone's rooms. Judging by the hue of the walls, he was still rather deep in the caverns, probably in Hieronymus' quarters then. It was not a particularly reassuring thought. With his head finally clear enough to permit him to put the pieces together, Augusta had taken on the image of a fiend straight out of hell; however, he wasn't at all certain that Valentin's brother was much better. Somehow, he didn't think that rescuing him had been an act of charity, and the man's absence made him apprehensive of exactly what he might be doing.
Albus levered himself to his feet slowly and, when no waves of dizziness assaulted him, crossed the room to the door leading out. It was locked and warded, but a few moments work too care of that. Hieronymus could take a few lessons from Geoffrey, he thought in amusement. The Gryffindor had been endlessly inventive in coming up with new ways to keep Albus out of his quarters. After dealing with a few traumatized first years who'd been dragged into his sanctum, Albus had started doing regular bed checks on his fellow prefect. Geoffrey had responded by putting much more elaborate wards on his rooms, some of which were quite nasty. Following an accidental encounter with one of them, Neil, Geoffrey's favourite partner in crime, had turned a vivid orange and only been able to speak Welsh for a week--and that was fairly early on in their little game. Albus had not wanted to know what the more sophisticated versions that appeared thereafter had been capable of--he'd thankfully never found out the hard way. In any case, none had held up for long once he began an intensive study of the more complex warding spells with the aid of a few books from the library's restricted section, but they had provided him with plenty of practise. The fact that his new-found talent absolutely infuriated Geoffrey was just a bonus. The thing that most annoyed him seemed to be that Albus didn't bother with wards himself. Geoffrey had discovered why after he was set upon by Fawkes and Sosi the only time he broke into Albus' rooms; with pets like his, wards seemed somewhat superfluous. In any case, Hieronymus' attempts were really quite juvenile by comparison with those he'd been disarming all year.
After a few seconds' work, the door swung outward into the corridor, but was almost immediately slammed back against him. He thought for a moment that he'd missed one of the wards, but the door didn't catch again. He pushed it more carefully this time, and peered cautiously out the opening, only to see the hideous spectacle of what looked to be the entire contents of Augusta's demented zoo rampaging down the hall at him in a flurry of wings, fangs and scaly appendages. Without his wand, Albus was in a hopeless situation, but before he could slam the door again in a futile attempt to save himself, he noticed that the creatures were bypassing his door without even slowing down. An even stranger sight, under the circumstances, was the person following after them, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Sophicles?"
"Oh, hello Albus." The little Hufflepuff paused and regarded him quizzically through his heavy spectacles. "Everyone's been looking for you, did you know?"
"Er, yes, I suppose they must have been."
"Delaia's been quite frantic, you should go calm her down or something."
It took a second for Albus to realise just what the other boy had said. "Her?"
Sophicles gave him an arch look. "Oh, really, Albus. I'm nearsighted, not blind. Of course she's a girl. So's Apollo, by the way, did you know? Don't really see how I missed THAT one, to tell you the truth."
"Apollo . . . is a girl?" Albus wondered if his confundus charm was coming back again.
"Oh, yes. Although I believe she's using polyjuice to hide her identity, rather than a glamour like Delaia. I could be wrong, though, as I've been too busy lately to spend much time on it." He nodded after the mob that had passed them by and was rapidly disappearing up the corridor. "I'd like to stay and catch up with you, Albus, but I really have to be going."
"Where . . . where are you off to?"
"Oh," Sophicles' eyes gleamed behind his overlong bangs. "I just had an interesting discussion with some new friends." He bared his teeth in what might, charitably, have been called a smile. The expression looked strange on his usually pleasant features. "They say they'd like to have a little chat with Augusta. . . . I thought it might be fun to watch."
Albus considered this for a second. "Would you mind some company?," he asked hopefully.
* * *
Delaia checked again, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. The contents of Albus' robes, which Severus had piled on the night table in his room, had proven most illuminating. The use of a few of the items still eluded her, but the ones she had deciphered should be adequate. At least she certainly hoped so. She also fervently hoped she had the spell right. Valentin had gone over it with her repeatedly, but that was never the same as actual practise. To Delaia's shock, he had even volunteered to have her try it out on him, replying to her horrified refusal that it couldn't do much more damage and might improve their chances considerably. Delaia had not been able to bring herself to try it, however, as a spell that strong could prove fatal if miscast. If she was going to kill someone, she vastly preferred it to be Augusta. Of course, it would be better if the spell worked, as killing the conasse would not be half as satisfying as what she had planned, nor would it help Valentin.
They crept down a number of hidden passageways that her companion seemed to know quite well. Apparently, he had escaped several times, but never quite managed to make it out of the rabbit warren of caves beneath Durmstrang before Augusta had caught up with him. She had finally caged him in her menagerie primarily because it was much more difficult to break out of than her rooms or laboratory. Delaia was grateful that his plan hadn't worked, as distance would not have severed the connection with Augusta; once cast, nothing could do that except the talisman or the death of one of the participants. She assumed Augusta had only prevented his escape to insure that he didn't take his own life just to spite her. Thankfully, it was not an idea that ever seemed to have occurred to Valentin, who had a strong survival instinct.
The problem was that the damned woman had to be found before she could be dealt with, and despite their best efforts, no one seemed to know where the elusive witch might be. They had checked all the more likely places, and were now proceeding to comb the lesser used storage facilities on the upper levels of the cavern complex. Valentin had hidden in one for several days during one escape attempt, but had been found when he ventured out in search of food. The idea of their present search was that, assuming Augusta still thought he was attempting to hide from her, perhaps she would check his old haunts. So far, however, the inches of dust in the deserted rooms had clearly indicated that no one had been through them in some time. Delaia fingered the talisman in the inner sections of her robe and wished something would happen. Patience had never been her strong suit, and she'd had enough fruitless searching in the last few days to last her a lifetime.
"Alohomora." As the basic lock-opening spell was sufficient to cause the latch on the heavy door of the last room on their list to slide open, Delaia was fairly sure it would not reveal anything interesting. The empty room that met her gaze reaffirmed the suspicion that this cavern had not been used for anything, even storage, in quite some time. It was disheartening as they had already checked everywhere else.
"Damn." She was too depressed to even bother expressing her annoyance properly. "Think, Valentin, what have we missed? I can't believe she'd just disappear, not without having recovered the talisman, and besides, the trials are going on today . . . "
They both looked at each other at the same moment, then collided in a mad dash to get out the door. God, I must be truly thick, Delaia thought in disgust. Of course, it was a long shot, but why not? Maybe it made sense to look for Augusta where she was actually supposed to be--in the Triwizard judges' booth. Of course, had it been her, Delaia would have been scouring the complex looking for Valentin and his precious bauble rather than judging some stupid event, but then, after everything Severus and Valentin had told her, it was obvious that the woman's mind worked in anything but a normal way.
Fifteen minutes later, the two arrived, panting slightly, above ground. The first fresh air she'd smelt in days was heavenly, even heavily scented as it was with pine, and the wind felt good against her overheated skin, although it was not long before she was wishing she had thought to bring a cloak. She soon identified the dais where the judges were seated, but Augusta was not among them. Still, that didn't mean she wasn't prowling the grounds somewhere. After all, if Valentin had succeeded in getting away, wouldn't it be logical to assume he'd try to get as far from Durmstrang as possible? He had already tried hiding within the castle-- he'd told her that his initial instinct had been to look for his brother, but he'd never been able to find him--so Augusta might well assume, if she did not realise just how much he had learned about the talisman, that he'd decided to run for it. Even if that were the case, however, finding one petite witch in the huge crowd that had assembled for the trial was going to be a challenge.
"What colour robes was she wearing when you saw her this morning?"
Valentin, who had also been scanning the crowd, looked up at her. "Red," he replied succinctly. His tone said that he was just as disgusted by that fact as she.
Looking at the hundreds of red robed Durmstrang students and alumni milling around them, Delaia felt what little hope she'd had fade away. This was impossible. They'd do better to go back to Augusta's work-rooms and wait until SHE found THEM. Delaia hated giving the initiative to someone else, though, especially someone that frighteningly capable. As she was trying to decide between retreat and an exhausting and probably useless search, a new element was added to the equation. Glancing at the forest, Delaia saw something odd. Alright, more than odd. It was a sight she doubted anyone had seen in. . . well, history had never been her best subject, but a very long time.
"Valentin," she began, but had to stop and swallow a rising sense of dread before she could continue.
"What?" The boy regarded her tetchily. "Can't you see this is useless? We'll never find her in all this, and even if we did, you can't do anything in front of witnesses."
"Er, Valentin . . . ," Delaia, momentarily incapable of forming phrases, just tugged on his sleeve.
"What? I suggest we go back inside. Besides, it's freezing out here."
"Valentin," she tried one more time and found that her voice had finally returned, "I think we have another problem."
"What other . . . oh." He stopped as he followed the direction of her gaze. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. "Are those . . . elves? Real elves? I didn't know they were using THEM in the Tournament. I wonder how they persuaded them to agree?"
Delaia began slowly drawing him back the way they'd come, which also happened to lead away from the line of elvish bowmen who had taken up position just outside the forest perimeter. The green of their tunics melded into the background of the trees, but their silver weapons stood out nicely, gleaming dully in the sun. If there were that many they could see, it didn't even bear thinking about how many more there might be that they couldn't. Apparently, Aberforth was as efficient as his brother, damn him. "I don't think they are here for the Tournament," she told Valentin shortly.
"Then what . . . ," he broke off as they rounded the side of the castle, only to see a similar line up facing them across the undulating plain ahead. It did not take much imagination for Delaia to assume the truth without having to verify it in any further. They were almost certainly surrounded.
She felt her wand tingle against her skin and drew back, flattening herself against the castle walls. Don't panic, she told herself, and then proceeded to do just that. Oh, God, not now! Not when they had the damned elixir! She bloody well HATED Aberforth Dumbledore! She still hadn't found Albus nor dealt with Valentin's situation, not to mention that Severus and Apollo were God knew where. She had to get the wand to Severus along with the potion, which was still back in their rooms so he and, unless she was much mistaken, Apollo could get out of there. Delaia, of course, had no intention of time shifting. She'd made up her mind to that some time back, but that was assuming Albus was alright, as getting stuck in this era without him was certainly not an acceptable possibility . . .
"Delaia," she felt a hesitant tug on her sleeve.
"Valentin, I'm trying to think!"
"Well, you might want to do it in another location," he commented in an eerie semblance of Snape's best drawl. He indicated the columns of elves, who had begun advancing on the castle in green waves. "I think they're coming this way."
Consciousness returned to Albus along with a raging migraine. He was only distracted for a moment by the pain, however, before the day's events came flooding back. The throbbing in his head did not keep him from thinking clearly for the first time in what seemed like days . . . in fact, it was days, he reminded himself. Augusta must have put a hell of a memory spell on him for it to last so long and be so impenetrable. Apparently it also induced extreme gullibility; at least, he hoped so. He would hate to believe he'd swallowed that tripe about needing to create the Philosopher's Stone for the next Triwizard event on his own!
He blearily looked around, carefully avoiding sudden movements that would cause flashes of agony to bounce from one temple to the other. He muttered a healing charm over himself that cut the headache somewhat, but without his wand there was little more he could do. No one other than his parents knew, but his brother wasn't the only one who could do wandless magic; however, his abilities were not on a par with Aberforth's in that area. He suspected that he'd need a potion, or a very long holiday, to get rid of the pain entirely. Memory charms often had that effect when countered, and Hieronymus had not bothered to be too gentle with the removal of his.
Looking around, Albus saw that he was no longer in the chamber of horrors, but was reclining on a comfortable divan in someone's rooms. Judging by the hue of the walls, he was still rather deep in the caverns, probably in Hieronymus' quarters then. It was not a particularly reassuring thought. With his head finally clear enough to permit him to put the pieces together, Augusta had taken on the image of a fiend straight out of hell; however, he wasn't at all certain that Valentin's brother was much better. Somehow, he didn't think that rescuing him had been an act of charity, and the man's absence made him apprehensive of exactly what he might be doing.
Albus levered himself to his feet slowly and, when no waves of dizziness assaulted him, crossed the room to the door leading out. It was locked and warded, but a few moments work too care of that. Hieronymus could take a few lessons from Geoffrey, he thought in amusement. The Gryffindor had been endlessly inventive in coming up with new ways to keep Albus out of his quarters. After dealing with a few traumatized first years who'd been dragged into his sanctum, Albus had started doing regular bed checks on his fellow prefect. Geoffrey had responded by putting much more elaborate wards on his rooms, some of which were quite nasty. Following an accidental encounter with one of them, Neil, Geoffrey's favourite partner in crime, had turned a vivid orange and only been able to speak Welsh for a week--and that was fairly early on in their little game. Albus had not wanted to know what the more sophisticated versions that appeared thereafter had been capable of--he'd thankfully never found out the hard way. In any case, none had held up for long once he began an intensive study of the more complex warding spells with the aid of a few books from the library's restricted section, but they had provided him with plenty of practise. The fact that his new-found talent absolutely infuriated Geoffrey was just a bonus. The thing that most annoyed him seemed to be that Albus didn't bother with wards himself. Geoffrey had discovered why after he was set upon by Fawkes and Sosi the only time he broke into Albus' rooms; with pets like his, wards seemed somewhat superfluous. In any case, Hieronymus' attempts were really quite juvenile by comparison with those he'd been disarming all year.
After a few seconds' work, the door swung outward into the corridor, but was almost immediately slammed back against him. He thought for a moment that he'd missed one of the wards, but the door didn't catch again. He pushed it more carefully this time, and peered cautiously out the opening, only to see the hideous spectacle of what looked to be the entire contents of Augusta's demented zoo rampaging down the hall at him in a flurry of wings, fangs and scaly appendages. Without his wand, Albus was in a hopeless situation, but before he could slam the door again in a futile attempt to save himself, he noticed that the creatures were bypassing his door without even slowing down. An even stranger sight, under the circumstances, was the person following after them, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Sophicles?"
"Oh, hello Albus." The little Hufflepuff paused and regarded him quizzically through his heavy spectacles. "Everyone's been looking for you, did you know?"
"Er, yes, I suppose they must have been."
"Delaia's been quite frantic, you should go calm her down or something."
It took a second for Albus to realise just what the other boy had said. "Her?"
Sophicles gave him an arch look. "Oh, really, Albus. I'm nearsighted, not blind. Of course she's a girl. So's Apollo, by the way, did you know? Don't really see how I missed THAT one, to tell you the truth."
"Apollo . . . is a girl?" Albus wondered if his confundus charm was coming back again.
"Oh, yes. Although I believe she's using polyjuice to hide her identity, rather than a glamour like Delaia. I could be wrong, though, as I've been too busy lately to spend much time on it." He nodded after the mob that had passed them by and was rapidly disappearing up the corridor. "I'd like to stay and catch up with you, Albus, but I really have to be going."
"Where . . . where are you off to?"
"Oh," Sophicles' eyes gleamed behind his overlong bangs. "I just had an interesting discussion with some new friends." He bared his teeth in what might, charitably, have been called a smile. The expression looked strange on his usually pleasant features. "They say they'd like to have a little chat with Augusta. . . . I thought it might be fun to watch."
Albus considered this for a second. "Would you mind some company?," he asked hopefully.
* * *
Delaia checked again, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. The contents of Albus' robes, which Severus had piled on the night table in his room, had proven most illuminating. The use of a few of the items still eluded her, but the ones she had deciphered should be adequate. At least she certainly hoped so. She also fervently hoped she had the spell right. Valentin had gone over it with her repeatedly, but that was never the same as actual practise. To Delaia's shock, he had even volunteered to have her try it out on him, replying to her horrified refusal that it couldn't do much more damage and might improve their chances considerably. Delaia had not been able to bring herself to try it, however, as a spell that strong could prove fatal if miscast. If she was going to kill someone, she vastly preferred it to be Augusta. Of course, it would be better if the spell worked, as killing the conasse would not be half as satisfying as what she had planned, nor would it help Valentin.
They crept down a number of hidden passageways that her companion seemed to know quite well. Apparently, he had escaped several times, but never quite managed to make it out of the rabbit warren of caves beneath Durmstrang before Augusta had caught up with him. She had finally caged him in her menagerie primarily because it was much more difficult to break out of than her rooms or laboratory. Delaia was grateful that his plan hadn't worked, as distance would not have severed the connection with Augusta; once cast, nothing could do that except the talisman or the death of one of the participants. She assumed Augusta had only prevented his escape to insure that he didn't take his own life just to spite her. Thankfully, it was not an idea that ever seemed to have occurred to Valentin, who had a strong survival instinct.
The problem was that the damned woman had to be found before she could be dealt with, and despite their best efforts, no one seemed to know where the elusive witch might be. They had checked all the more likely places, and were now proceeding to comb the lesser used storage facilities on the upper levels of the cavern complex. Valentin had hidden in one for several days during one escape attempt, but had been found when he ventured out in search of food. The idea of their present search was that, assuming Augusta still thought he was attempting to hide from her, perhaps she would check his old haunts. So far, however, the inches of dust in the deserted rooms had clearly indicated that no one had been through them in some time. Delaia fingered the talisman in the inner sections of her robe and wished something would happen. Patience had never been her strong suit, and she'd had enough fruitless searching in the last few days to last her a lifetime.
"Alohomora." As the basic lock-opening spell was sufficient to cause the latch on the heavy door of the last room on their list to slide open, Delaia was fairly sure it would not reveal anything interesting. The empty room that met her gaze reaffirmed the suspicion that this cavern had not been used for anything, even storage, in quite some time. It was disheartening as they had already checked everywhere else.
"Damn." She was too depressed to even bother expressing her annoyance properly. "Think, Valentin, what have we missed? I can't believe she'd just disappear, not without having recovered the talisman, and besides, the trials are going on today . . . "
They both looked at each other at the same moment, then collided in a mad dash to get out the door. God, I must be truly thick, Delaia thought in disgust. Of course, it was a long shot, but why not? Maybe it made sense to look for Augusta where she was actually supposed to be--in the Triwizard judges' booth. Of course, had it been her, Delaia would have been scouring the complex looking for Valentin and his precious bauble rather than judging some stupid event, but then, after everything Severus and Valentin had told her, it was obvious that the woman's mind worked in anything but a normal way.
Fifteen minutes later, the two arrived, panting slightly, above ground. The first fresh air she'd smelt in days was heavenly, even heavily scented as it was with pine, and the wind felt good against her overheated skin, although it was not long before she was wishing she had thought to bring a cloak. She soon identified the dais where the judges were seated, but Augusta was not among them. Still, that didn't mean she wasn't prowling the grounds somewhere. After all, if Valentin had succeeded in getting away, wouldn't it be logical to assume he'd try to get as far from Durmstrang as possible? He had already tried hiding within the castle-- he'd told her that his initial instinct had been to look for his brother, but he'd never been able to find him--so Augusta might well assume, if she did not realise just how much he had learned about the talisman, that he'd decided to run for it. Even if that were the case, however, finding one petite witch in the huge crowd that had assembled for the trial was going to be a challenge.
"What colour robes was she wearing when you saw her this morning?"
Valentin, who had also been scanning the crowd, looked up at her. "Red," he replied succinctly. His tone said that he was just as disgusted by that fact as she.
Looking at the hundreds of red robed Durmstrang students and alumni milling around them, Delaia felt what little hope she'd had fade away. This was impossible. They'd do better to go back to Augusta's work-rooms and wait until SHE found THEM. Delaia hated giving the initiative to someone else, though, especially someone that frighteningly capable. As she was trying to decide between retreat and an exhausting and probably useless search, a new element was added to the equation. Glancing at the forest, Delaia saw something odd. Alright, more than odd. It was a sight she doubted anyone had seen in. . . well, history had never been her best subject, but a very long time.
"Valentin," she began, but had to stop and swallow a rising sense of dread before she could continue.
"What?" The boy regarded her tetchily. "Can't you see this is useless? We'll never find her in all this, and even if we did, you can't do anything in front of witnesses."
"Er, Valentin . . . ," Delaia, momentarily incapable of forming phrases, just tugged on his sleeve.
"What? I suggest we go back inside. Besides, it's freezing out here."
"Valentin," she tried one more time and found that her voice had finally returned, "I think we have another problem."
"What other . . . oh." He stopped as he followed the direction of her gaze. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. "Are those . . . elves? Real elves? I didn't know they were using THEM in the Tournament. I wonder how they persuaded them to agree?"
Delaia began slowly drawing him back the way they'd come, which also happened to lead away from the line of elvish bowmen who had taken up position just outside the forest perimeter. The green of their tunics melded into the background of the trees, but their silver weapons stood out nicely, gleaming dully in the sun. If there were that many they could see, it didn't even bear thinking about how many more there might be that they couldn't. Apparently, Aberforth was as efficient as his brother, damn him. "I don't think they are here for the Tournament," she told Valentin shortly.
"Then what . . . ," he broke off as they rounded the side of the castle, only to see a similar line up facing them across the undulating plain ahead. It did not take much imagination for Delaia to assume the truth without having to verify it in any further. They were almost certainly surrounded.
She felt her wand tingle against her skin and drew back, flattening herself against the castle walls. Don't panic, she told herself, and then proceeded to do just that. Oh, God, not now! Not when they had the damned elixir! She bloody well HATED Aberforth Dumbledore! She still hadn't found Albus nor dealt with Valentin's situation, not to mention that Severus and Apollo were God knew where. She had to get the wand to Severus along with the potion, which was still back in their rooms so he and, unless she was much mistaken, Apollo could get out of there. Delaia, of course, had no intention of time shifting. She'd made up her mind to that some time back, but that was assuming Albus was alright, as getting stuck in this era without him was certainly not an acceptable possibility . . .
"Delaia," she felt a hesitant tug on her sleeve.
"Valentin, I'm trying to think!"
"Well, you might want to do it in another location," he commented in an eerie semblance of Snape's best drawl. He indicated the columns of elves, who had begun advancing on the castle in green waves. "I think they're coming this way."