Chapter 2: Again thank you Kales and Lexi for helping me in the rewriting process. Again, apologies to those who read it the first time around. Thank you also to all that have left feedback.
"Do what you think is right."
That had been his master's first order real order to him. Or at least he took it as his first order, although the master seemed talking more to himself than to his brand new creation. But Golems did as they were told, for they had no will, no drive of their own. The symbols bore this down on his memory, both as a Golem and a living book.
But he had been created wrong. Made too fast, without all the proper hymns. This stayed at the back of his mind, like a tiny itch, or a buzz. He followed his master's orders, but could fill in the gaps here he missed-- if he chose to.
The Golem shuffled behind Godric into the courtyard of Hogwarts. Where children used to study and laugh had become a veritable sea of tents. Refugees crowded around fires, their conversations and smoke drifting into the senses of the creature. He found that each voice was accompanied with a list of information that floated past his inner eye. Sarah Pellows, orphaned when Death Eaters used her parents to raise Nightshades-creatures named after the deadly plant from which they are created; Othello Newton, sister murdered while they slept; Rowena Fornyte, husband died in a battle last year. Each person here had lost someone, each a victim of the war. The Golem would have felt sickened if he could.
As Godric traveled farther into the tents, the Golem started to recognize some of the names that past by his inner eye. Colin Creevey, graduated two years ago, returned when Hogsmeade fell 2 months ago; Blaise Zabini, graduated three years ago, mother exploded in front of her when a spell misfired, returned when she was told to become a Death Eater or die by her father. The Golem wondered fuzzily if that meant that the ones he dealt with before he had died were here, or if they had already succumbed to the death that kept escaping him.
Godric had opened a tent flap and looked back at his creation questioningly. I wonder if he will fit read the inner eye. The Golem looked up with his muddy eyes and noted that the tent's top reached to at least fourteen feet; enough to fit the nine-foot Golem with ease. So the Golem nodded.
This startled Godric only slightly, less than the creature had expected. Did he know what happened when a Golem was made imperfectly? He frowned slightly, and the symbols itched, searching for the last time he had been made so quickly that he had been made wrong. The last time had been in Germany, during the Second World War, when a young woman had made him-no, her, for the Golem had the look of a woman during that life. When he remembered that, the puzzle fell into place and the lines connected, and he knew how Godric had learned to make a Golem. His great-grandmother had shown him as a boy, only to be used in the utmost need. And she had told him how the Golem could sometimes read.
Back then, the Golem could speak. But now, he yet to even make a sound, for the Golem knew his voice was not needed. They had use only for its strength and its rocky form-he was to be someone on the front line, not in the Ghettos of Berlin.
"Follow me." Spoke his master, and the Golem nodded, slowly, before he, too, trudged through.
The council that rounded the table had seen better days. Harry Potter now sat in the high chair that Dumbledore had occupied not a day before; the elder now lay in a coma in the Great Hall-which now served as Hospital for the failing. The number of people dying or wounded now doubled the number of those who could still fight. Ron Weasley sat at his left, stone-faced and somber, silently grieving for his brother Bill and Percy-one dead, the other a thrall to the Dark lord. Hermione sat to the High Chair's left, her left eye covered with a patch. It had been taken not by another wizard but for the spell of Farsight,
allowing her to see even now what the enemy planned. She whispered unendingly all she saw. Once outlaw, now confidant, Sirius Black looked over a magical map with his old friend Remus Lupin, whose transformations were now a blessing, the mindless beast loose, fast weapon in the battlefield. Their former enemy, Severus Snape, spent most of his time helping with the injured, but he advised them on the methods of the Death Eaters as much as he could.
Virginia Weasley, the younger sister of Harry's right hand man, and protégé of Remus, as well as the late Madam Pomfrey, looked to the door as the flaps slapped back together. Godric, one of the younger ones, had come in with a giant. A giant made of rock and mud, which blinked at her in almost recognition with its black stony eyes. "A Golem." She stood up with this revelation, making the rest around the table look up as well.
Godric smiled wearily at his mentor. "Yes, a Golem…I didn't think it would work…but it did, just like Nanna had told me…" He collapsed wearily.
"A Golem?" Harry looked to the younger Weasley for explanation.
"A creature from Judaic myth, made of stone and mud," Virginia walked around the thing, inspecting it's makeup. "It follows the commands of its master to the last letter, and exactly. It can only be destroyed by the remaking of the last Hebrew word on its head from 'truth' to 'dead'. And there is never more than one ever in existence at one time. Some even say it is the same Golem every time." She then frowned, as if trying to remember something. "Godric, has it said anything?"
"No…but it really hasn't had time…I think it understands, though…" He drifted in and out of consciousness on the bench he had fallen onto.
Virginia looked up at the Golem. "Golem, can you speak?" She said softly, trying not to look too idiotic if the Golem truly only obeyed Godric.
The Golem let out a gush of moldy, mossy air- laced with something else she couldn't identify. "Yes." The voice was creaky and harsh, and it seemed to take the Golem by as much surprise as Virginia had. But that was a trick of the light, for Golems had no emotions.
Golems had no hearts.
----------
Heh. Ok, chapter two. I'll get to the Golem's reaction in chapter three, as
well as more of the survivors.
Good? Bad? Pitiful? TELL ME, Gods darnit!
"Do what you think is right."
That had been his master's first order real order to him. Or at least he took it as his first order, although the master seemed talking more to himself than to his brand new creation. But Golems did as they were told, for they had no will, no drive of their own. The symbols bore this down on his memory, both as a Golem and a living book.
But he had been created wrong. Made too fast, without all the proper hymns. This stayed at the back of his mind, like a tiny itch, or a buzz. He followed his master's orders, but could fill in the gaps here he missed-- if he chose to.
The Golem shuffled behind Godric into the courtyard of Hogwarts. Where children used to study and laugh had become a veritable sea of tents. Refugees crowded around fires, their conversations and smoke drifting into the senses of the creature. He found that each voice was accompanied with a list of information that floated past his inner eye. Sarah Pellows, orphaned when Death Eaters used her parents to raise Nightshades-creatures named after the deadly plant from which they are created; Othello Newton, sister murdered while they slept; Rowena Fornyte, husband died in a battle last year. Each person here had lost someone, each a victim of the war. The Golem would have felt sickened if he could.
As Godric traveled farther into the tents, the Golem started to recognize some of the names that past by his inner eye. Colin Creevey, graduated two years ago, returned when Hogsmeade fell 2 months ago; Blaise Zabini, graduated three years ago, mother exploded in front of her when a spell misfired, returned when she was told to become a Death Eater or die by her father. The Golem wondered fuzzily if that meant that the ones he dealt with before he had died were here, or if they had already succumbed to the death that kept escaping him.
Godric had opened a tent flap and looked back at his creation questioningly. I wonder if he will fit read the inner eye. The Golem looked up with his muddy eyes and noted that the tent's top reached to at least fourteen feet; enough to fit the nine-foot Golem with ease. So the Golem nodded.
This startled Godric only slightly, less than the creature had expected. Did he know what happened when a Golem was made imperfectly? He frowned slightly, and the symbols itched, searching for the last time he had been made so quickly that he had been made wrong. The last time had been in Germany, during the Second World War, when a young woman had made him-no, her, for the Golem had the look of a woman during that life. When he remembered that, the puzzle fell into place and the lines connected, and he knew how Godric had learned to make a Golem. His great-grandmother had shown him as a boy, only to be used in the utmost need. And she had told him how the Golem could sometimes read.
Back then, the Golem could speak. But now, he yet to even make a sound, for the Golem knew his voice was not needed. They had use only for its strength and its rocky form-he was to be someone on the front line, not in the Ghettos of Berlin.
"Follow me." Spoke his master, and the Golem nodded, slowly, before he, too, trudged through.
The council that rounded the table had seen better days. Harry Potter now sat in the high chair that Dumbledore had occupied not a day before; the elder now lay in a coma in the Great Hall-which now served as Hospital for the failing. The number of people dying or wounded now doubled the number of those who could still fight. Ron Weasley sat at his left, stone-faced and somber, silently grieving for his brother Bill and Percy-one dead, the other a thrall to the Dark lord. Hermione sat to the High Chair's left, her left eye covered with a patch. It had been taken not by another wizard but for the spell of Farsight,
allowing her to see even now what the enemy planned. She whispered unendingly all she saw. Once outlaw, now confidant, Sirius Black looked over a magical map with his old friend Remus Lupin, whose transformations were now a blessing, the mindless beast loose, fast weapon in the battlefield. Their former enemy, Severus Snape, spent most of his time helping with the injured, but he advised them on the methods of the Death Eaters as much as he could.
Virginia Weasley, the younger sister of Harry's right hand man, and protégé of Remus, as well as the late Madam Pomfrey, looked to the door as the flaps slapped back together. Godric, one of the younger ones, had come in with a giant. A giant made of rock and mud, which blinked at her in almost recognition with its black stony eyes. "A Golem." She stood up with this revelation, making the rest around the table look up as well.
Godric smiled wearily at his mentor. "Yes, a Golem…I didn't think it would work…but it did, just like Nanna had told me…" He collapsed wearily.
"A Golem?" Harry looked to the younger Weasley for explanation.
"A creature from Judaic myth, made of stone and mud," Virginia walked around the thing, inspecting it's makeup. "It follows the commands of its master to the last letter, and exactly. It can only be destroyed by the remaking of the last Hebrew word on its head from 'truth' to 'dead'. And there is never more than one ever in existence at one time. Some even say it is the same Golem every time." She then frowned, as if trying to remember something. "Godric, has it said anything?"
"No…but it really hasn't had time…I think it understands, though…" He drifted in and out of consciousness on the bench he had fallen onto.
Virginia looked up at the Golem. "Golem, can you speak?" She said softly, trying not to look too idiotic if the Golem truly only obeyed Godric.
The Golem let out a gush of moldy, mossy air- laced with something else she couldn't identify. "Yes." The voice was creaky and harsh, and it seemed to take the Golem by as much surprise as Virginia had. But that was a trick of the light, for Golems had no emotions.
Golems had no hearts.
----------
Heh. Ok, chapter two. I'll get to the Golem's reaction in chapter three, as
well as more of the survivors.
Good? Bad? Pitiful? TELL ME, Gods darnit!