Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except plotlines, clans and their members, and Grey Tower.
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Infiltration of a Dark Kind
Witch Weekly
Dangerous Nature: Elementals
By Myra Trent
…There is a lot of skepticism whether elementals are truly real or not. Let me tell that I am not lying: they exist and they are dangerous. I was nearly killed when I was at Diagon Alley buying more parchment for a story on the Ministry's Department of Magical Cooperation and its terrible diplomatic skills…
…It was terrible. Fire was spouting from these huge crevices on the ground and there was the fiercest storm I had ever seen in my entire life raging in the sky. I thought the ocean was raining down on us. For a moment, when the rain came, I thought everything would be all right. But it burned everything it touched and the fire still ate at everything despite it…
…I was scared out of my wits when I saw them. They stood above the ruins and you could immediately tell that they were the ones causing it. They were cloaked and carried strange weapons. They also had these black tattoos. Not the Dark Mark but tattoos nevertheless. The Aurors couldn't do anything. And those fiends were laughing at our pain…
The Daily Prophet
New Threat to the Wizarding World
By Daily Prophet Chief Reporter Emil Scott
…There is nothing to fear about elementals literally controlling the elements. According to a statement made by the Ministry of Magic, these 'elementals' are nothing more than pretenders who use dark magic to do all this, with the help of other dark wizards. They are most likely out to destroy wizarding society. Whether these elementals are the cause of death for many of the current murders is under investigation…
The Quibbler:
Elementals: Are They Human?
By Ramona Carlisle
…This writer doubts that elementals are actually human at all. Can a human being actually control the forces of nature? Using magic without a wand? That is impossible! Wands must be used perform magic. If not, the magic is very spontaneous and uncontrollable. This "accidental magic" usually only occurs during times of great stress. But as we are very proficient with wands and keep them with us, this doesn't happen…
…Elementals must be nature itself embodied. We humans have squandered Earth's resources and are bringing our planet to ruin. Can nature itself be rebelling against us? And is it mocking us by sending its vengeance in the guise of humans? This seems to be the most plausible explanation that could be found…
Magical Herald
How To Defend Against Elementals
By Marshall Dennis
…Normal wizards and even Aurors are wondering how we are to deal with these magic users. We don't know how to defend against them or how their magic in its entity works at all. At the moment, we here at the Herald cannot offer any help against these elementals until more information about them is revealed…
Official Statement from the Minister of Magic
…There is no need to panic. Our researchers and Auror task forces are working day and night to figure out how to defeat these menaces. They are cowards who are most likely using dark magic in conjugation with other groups to wreak havoc on our peaceful society! They are not using the elements against us! We will take revenge for Diagon Alley and the lives lost there! We will defeat them…
…No, in answer to your questions, I am certain that these "elementals", as they call themselves, do not have anything to do with You-Know-Who. You-Know-Who is dead and contrary to the lies that Albus Dumbledore is spreading, he has not suddenly 'returned' from the grave…
Statement made by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, in a press conference.
"What you are implying is insane! You want us to talk with these people?!"
Albus Dumbledore winced as the Minister of Magic yelled in his face, spit flying from his mouth. Calmly removing a handkerchief charmed to clean anything, he wiped the liquid off his face. It was disgusting that the Minister should do this to who could most accurately be called the most powerful wizard in the world. But Cornelius Fudge was beside himself, losing all self-control. Not for the first time, Dumbledore wondered why the wizarding community kept this inept man in so much power. It was doing little good, with all the attacks that had come about.
The death eaters had been quiet for a bit. Severus had explained the reason for this: they were gloating about what had happened in Diagon Alley. At the moment, they were only doing little killings here and there. Transgressions that the Ministry was blatantly trying not to see. The newspapers, of course, wouldn't dare print this in their pages. Though the good thing of having people involved in its printing was a plus. Some people were already becoming suspicious. He had received letters of encouragement and support, but he had still been forced to listen to a number of scathing Howlers. They claimed he was a liar and that he was scaring their children. Dumbledore tried not to let this lower his resolve.
"I believe that it is the best course of action we can take, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied serenely.
"How can you suggest this?" Fudge, blotchy red in his face and his portly body heaving with outrage, was once more screaming. "Look what those people have done! We must take action against them!"
"How do we know that these elementals are all against us?"
"Diagon Alley is an excellent example of-"
"Eyewitnesses only saw four elementals at the scene when Diagon Alley attacked. We don't know how many elementals exist or if they all wish to attack us. We would be leaping without looking first."
"It is taking affirmative action against what could be a threat!" was the furious retort. Dumbledore was thankful that the room had silencing charms around it. A wandering thought struck him: this office could have been his. And considering its empty spaces, cold office look, its lack of personality, and overall drab atmosphere, he was glad he declined the option of being Minister of Magic.
His fingers forming a steeple in his lap, composed light blue eyes pierced the Minister's gaze, so much that the other had to look away. "Let's take a walk in another's shoes, Cornelius."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's say we're muggles-"
"That's preposterous! I'm not playing any game-"
"Just consider this. We are muggles living during the first rise of Voldemort-"
"This is utterly absurd! We are not muggles, I am not going to play some little pretend game, and there is - or rather was - only one and only one rise! And never say that name!"
One stern look from Dumbledore shut him up. "I suggest that you do. It might put things in perspective. And I will say the name as I please. I do not fear him. Let's begin again. We are muggles living during the first rise of Voldemort. We have found out that wizards exist and that these wizards are trying to kill us. Wouldn't we automatically assume that all wizards are evil and that they should all be eliminated?"
"Of course not! We would understand that not everyone is involved-"
"Precisely. And what are we trying to do?"
Fudge was dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth much like a fish out of water. Though this could very well be the case. His own argument had been turned against him. Dumbledore watched Fudge sputter in amusement. Fudge, seeing this, grew angry once again. He then barked out, "Get out of my office!"
"Fine then," was Dumbledore's level response. As he walked out of the spacious office that so disgusted him, he whirled around to face the wizard sitting at the large desk once more. "Think about it a bit more will you, Cornelius?" he asked with an innocent tone.
"OUT!"
As he exited the office, he noticed an extremely pale and forlorn Percy Weasley sitting at the desk outside the door. The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but was unsure whether to tell his thoughts or not.
"Speak Mr. Weasley. I will not judge you."
"Well…do you really think we can really talk to these elementals?"
"I believe we can. Not all of them could work for Voldemort." The boy winced at the name. Dumbledore inwardly sighed. Percy could have been a good addition to the Order. It was unfortunate that the Ministry held his loyalty.
"But You-Know-Who isn't-" Percy said this with great hesitation. Some of the people working at the other desks were listening with bated breath while pretending to work on their appointed tasks.
"Mr. Weasley, you may believe what you wish. But that doesn't mean you should hide yourself from the truth just because you think the Ministry is infallible." With that, he left the Ministry offices to head back to Grimmauld Place, not knowing of the conflicting thoughts he had planted in the thoughts of several people.
"They did quite a number on this place, didn't they?" With a mordant smirk, a foot incased in a black dress shoe kicked a large stray rock into what was left of a souvenir shop. The sound of it hitting the rubble was unbearably loud in the tense silence of the demolished street. Thankfully, there were no others in the avenue than they. And even if they were, those mortals probably would not even notice them.
Melania scowled at the other with her, tapping her heeled-ankle boots in impatience. "I wish you wouldn't do that." Her dark hair hung loosely over her shoulders. For once, the goddess of darkness was dressed in modern clothing. Of course, this was for two reasons. It was just in case they actually were seen (but that was doubtful) and her brother, like Thanatos, preferred mortal clothing to the usual formal garb of the deities. Then again, that was the only thing the two ever agreed upon. Wearing a dark blue skirt that ended just above her knees and a black leather jacket, she didn't look like much more than a typical muggle.
She looked over to where the rock had disappeared. It was truly a sad sight to see. The destruction was everywhere to see. Standing water, slick with a taint unknown to wizards, were in giant pools throughout the area. On the few standing walls, scorch marks scarred and blackened what used to be clean stone. Melania frowned in dismay. It never ceased to amaze her that mortals could crave to cause such disaster as this.
A smirk was all that greeted her and she was immediately reminded of why she hated meeting with this particular sibling of hers. The derisive reply was, "I don't know why you care anymore. This is hardly anything new. Humans have been causing mayhem amongst themselves and on their very planet for thousands of years. Granted that before the Exodus, we had a much more promising future to look forward to."
Her blue eyes narrowed in frustration, Melania glared magnificently at her brother. "Just because this happens often, Moros, that doesn't mean that it is still not a tragedy."
The harsh laugh rang through the deserted street, echoing in the wreck. Moros just smirked at her, his handsome face barely seen because of his old-fashioned hat that looked as if it came from the 1920s era. A stray wind blew, making the god of trickery's long dark trenchcoat flow back slightly in the wind along with his lengthy black hair. This image of mystery and debonair often was what Moros used to deceive other gods and mortals. And over the years, it still hadn't changed nor lost its effect. "You still think so idealistically!"
"I am not naïve and you know that well enough."
"That is true," he admitted. "You aren't naïve. But naïve isn't the same as idealistic, now is it? But hope can be regarded as naïve in certain aspects."
"Are you alluding to Pandora?" It sounded as if he were. Pandora hated Moros. Primarily because Moros always ended up tricking her in the end whenever they talked to each other. Unfortunately, the goddess had never learned. And it was a wonder why when all hopes seemed to have been achieved, something goes awry.
"Not only to her, sister." Another sly grin appeared on his shadowed face, before he spoke in his smooth voice. "You do have high hopes for your last two descendants, do you not?"
She could feel her anger rising up. Moros was always good at riling people. "So, then I am naïve?"
"You could say that. But I am assuming that you do not wish to talk pleasantries, correct? Let's get this over with. You needed to speak with me?"
"I need your help."
A raised eyebrow was the response. "Repeat that again. Slowly. I must have heard wrong. You need my help?"
She sighed in annoyance. "Yes, I do. Will you help me?"
"Humph," he shrugged. "Why not? This should prove interesting."
"I need a good lie to get my agents into Hogwarts."
"Give me an hour," Moros offered. "And Hogwarts will be welcoming your little spies with open arms. Though I doubt Raistlin would be compassionate to those little children." He shook his head in amusement. "I don't think it's in his nature to go easy on those who do not have the knowledge. Especially since students use every trick in the book to get out of learning. I would know."
"You would, considering how many times you've changed the way events happen."
"I don't change, I influence. Besides, I have no power over the duties of our dear aunt." He then asked sneakily, "Anyway, I'm not the only one tricking people, now am I? What of your descendant Harry?"
She cursed in her head. How typical of Moros to turn the tables on her. "I am aware of what I am doing," Melania pronounced.
"Then how will you explain to him why you erased his memory? Lethe's forgetfulness should not have affected him at all considering he is one of us. And look at Tom. He's resided in Lethe for fifteen years and he remembers what happens perfectly."
"How will he learn if I didn't?" she challenged angrily. "Wizarding magic has the effect of blocking all other types of magic if ingrained in a being enough. Look at all my past descendants. Look at Calandra Silver, Tom's mother. She had the potential to be a powerful chaos sorceress. Years of wizarding education and stiff beliefs over what is and what is not magic blocked her from ever achieving it. Harry's block from his other powers were removed since he does not remember the defining limits set down by wizarding magic." She then added quietly, "And can you imagine the trauma he would have experienced if he did remember?"
Moros accused, "What you are doing is stalling for time. Harry will remember eventually what happened to him. He'll have to cope with it then." The god of trickery gave her an inquiring look. "That's why you placed him in that household. You knew he would become strong there and gain the familial love that he never had before."
"Exactly."
"When do you plan to return him to the wizarding world?"
"I was planning on returning him around Halloween. However…" Melania trailed off.
"However?"
"Things have changed. With this outcry against the elemental community, it would be better for Harry to lie low for awhile."
"I see." Another dark smile graced his face. "It appears that this will be very interesting indeed."
The silence between them was almost like noise to her. It was an odd thing to think, but that was indeed the case here. Hermione Granger for once couldn't concentrate on her book and found that she gazing out the window more than reading. Ron was not much better. He sat across from her, the plush red seats much darker than the bright red hue of his hair, looking at what was contained in a small, poorly wrapped box held in his hands.
Hermione averted her eyes away quickly, not wanting to cry and make things worse. Inside that box was Harry's birthday present. It was supposed to be given to him at a huge party on July 31st, which would not only celebrate his fifteenth birthday but his new life with Sirius as his guardian. It was the party that Harry never showed up for.
Often, Hermione had wondered if it was nothing more than a pack of lies being told by the Dursleys. They hated Harry, but judging from their actions in previous years, they had only treated him with disturbing indifference. But abusing? Harry was a powerful wizard. He had sent Voldemort into hiding for fourteen years, defeated his supporter for the Sorcerer's Stone, killed a Basilisk, helped Sirius to freedom, and risked his life to escape the newly arisen Dark Lord to bring Cedric Diggory's body back to Hogwarts after the vigorous Triwizard Tournament! Surely, he wouldn't be abused!
In the end, Hermione had to face facts. The testimony of the now insane Vernon Dursley under Veritaserum clinched things. Sirius himself had gone over to the Dursley household. When the former convict returned, he had locked himself in his room. She was certain that she had heard him raging and even crying when in there. At one point, she thought she heard something burning. But it all made sense. Harry's poor health in the beginning of each term and his reluctance to return home pointed to this. She remembered at one point that he had pleaded with Professor McGonagall to stay at Hogwarts in the summer. Also, his unwillingness to tell anyone his problems was a glaring factor as well. Hermione wondered if Harry ever fully opened up to someone. She doubted it. Who could he turn to?
The weather outside couldn't be more perfect for her mood. Dismal gray clouds rolled in the sky, promising rain later in the evening. The green hills and fields that they passed were covered in a thick fog, veiling them in white mist. The sunshine that managed to pierce through the gray mists was weak and cold. All in all, it was a very gloomy day. Even Pigwidgeon, Ron's minute and usually very hyper owl, was lethargic today. The compartment seemed cold and empty. Ginny had left to go talk to her friends, unable to take the silence any longer. So, she and Ron sat together, thinking of their missing friend. They had not gone to the prefect's compartment. People had already approached them with inquiries that they would rather not think about. Ron was probably already in trouble for punching some second-year who had asked (with a lot of eagerness and anticipation, to her disgust) questions they most certainly hadn't wanted to hear. Still the words rang through her ears.
Is Harry Potter dead? Is it true what they say about his family! You're his friends, can you tell me?
A sharp sliding sound snapped her out of her reverie. The door to their compartment was opened. Ron looked up and his face immediately twisted into a scowl. Hermione could feel her expression turning into one of rage. It happened almost every year. Malfoy just had to turn up in one way or another.
Draco Malfoy looked as triumphant as ever. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, his two lackeys, were behind him, looking as stupid as ever. "Well, if it isn't Weasel, Mudblood, and…" He stopped. The blonde's gray eyes widened in slight shock and then narrowed in anger. "You mean you still haven't found Potter yet?!" His tone was accusing, almost as if he were personally insulted by it. Hermione raised an eyebrow. He was a death eater's son. Shouldn't he know where Harry was? And why did he seem so upset by Harry's disappearance. Indeed, the heir to the Malfoy name looked positively seething. But why? Everyone knew that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hated each other.
"No, we haven't," said Ron quietly, his voice holding violent rage in each syllable. Hermione held her wand ready in her hands, in case either Malfoy or Ron began to fight. "Wouldn't you know, death eater scum?"
Malfoy's pale cheeks were tinted pink with anger and his gray eyes were flashing with fury. This was odd behavior on Malfoy's part. Usually, he would have said something about they being the first to go. "Let's go," he had said tightly. This shocked all occupants of the compartment, even Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy stepped out of the compartment with wide wrathful strides; his two 'bodyguards' following close behind.
"I wonder what that was all about," Ron asked.
Hermione answered, "I really don't know. He looked as if he really had no idea where Harry was."
"I would have thought that he would," Ron mused, his anger dissipating. "Sirius last saw Harry with an elemental and from what little we know, elementals work for Voldemort."
"Do you think…that he doesn't know?"
"It's possible…Dumbledore is saying that not elementals could have joined Voldemort…"
"There's a low chance of that."
"We can hope."
She sighed and quietly said, so low that it could barely be heard, "I miss him, Ron."
"I know, Hermione," Ron replied sadly. "I know."
The silver wings and the metallic luster of the golden snitch lying in a box seemed dull on that September train ride.
"Watching what is going on, Artemis? I would figure you would be hunting or doing some other activity."
Artemis' brown gaze did not waver from where she was looking. "I have my reasons for looking, Vishnu." Her straight white hair fell over her still pristine kimono. As goddess of the moon, she did not need to go to such places as Castle in the Sky or to be a shadow to observe events on Earth. Truthfully, she would rather be among nature. It was in her personality as also being a goddess of the hunt. But she was interested in this.
The god who had spoken looked over her shoulder. The saffron yellow garments he wore contrasted with his blue colored skin. He asked, "Is that Raistlin Majere?"
"Correct."
"Ah…so your sister is finally begin to make her move." A pause. "She made good choices. A hecatian, a mediator, a dark justice, and a necromancer going undercover at Hogwarts. Along with Raistlin Majere. Impressive."
"I'm surprised you aren't more interested in this. You are the god of preservation."
"That may be true. But what your sister is doing is trying to save these people from my wonderful cousin. Hence, I do not intervene."
"Why don't you interfere?" inquired Artemis, tearing her eyes away from the Great Hall of Hogwarts. "I know the major light gods don't like Pheta. Helios, Amaterasu, Iris, Freja, Odin, and Sekhmet make this plain enough. You hate her as well. Why don't you do anything? Why don't Aether and Hemera do anything?"
Vishnu sighed. "What we make up in overall strength, Pheta makes up in numbers. The minor light gods and goddesses are completely loyal to her. At the moment, it is best that we stay out of her way. When Melania effectively weakens her hold, we will join with the light gods." Sending an astute look her way, he added, "And most of us have a good idea of what happened to Althelion. The god of truth should not have fallen so easily, especially in a time when the Harbingers were punished."
Glaring, she responded, "So you're waiting until it's easier for you to strike?"
"It is best that we let the dark weaken her first. Then we will come in."
Artemis returned her attention back on Earth. "All this to restore the cosmic balance of light and dark."
"It is necessary. Melania should be happy she does not have to go as an avatar as I did."
"Out of curiosity, where are your other two arms? Everyone knows you have four." It was true. The normally four-armed god of preservation had two at the moment.
"They are in Nirvana currently helping Nike and Ganesha with something. I was with them before, but I was interested as to why you were looking at the mortals."
"Then I'll turn to you if I ever need an extra pair of hands."
"Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The air was filled with the silence that always accompanied when the headmaster spoke. But this silence was different from other years. It was tense and filled with worry. Some students were fidgeting in their seats; inciting stern looks from equally apprehensive prefects. The only table that looked mildly unconcerned was the Slytherin table, where a number of young wizards and witches had confident and relaxed expressions. This didn't go unnoticed by the other Houses, who all disliked the House of Snakes for many reasons. In a breach of tradition, the first years were already standing in the hall in a double line by Professor McGonagall. They were still unsorted, but they were present nevertheless. Though much of the student population wondered at the presence of four blatantly older students among them.
"As you know, many things have happened during the summer while we were gone. We have even one of our own missing from our ranks." Everyone knew whom he was speaking of. The empty seat next to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stood out starkly. Most of the Gryffindor table seemed to be in a state of depression, frowns gracing a majority of their usually exuberant faces. "I am sorry for anyone who has lost someone in the past few months," added Dumbledore benignly.
"Before we get started, I would like to introduce our new teachers first. This year we have a record three new appointments to the Hogwarts staff." Whispers broke out among the tables, all looking at the staff table. Who the new teachers were was obvious. Two were unfamiliar, but one was greeted with evident welcome. There was another new person at the table: a toady-looking woman wearing an atrocious pink sweater, but no one commented. Actually, most were under the agreement that she should leave the room. She was that unpleasant looking.
"Professor Binns has decided to do some research with the Ministry over the subject of elementals and to look through documents that might say if they existed prior to what happened in Diagon Alley. This is a great honor for him and I'm sure we are all sorry to seem him leave." There were a few snickers at this and a couple of repressed cheers. "Which is why," the headmaster continued, "Remus Lupin will be taking the post of History of Magic teacher until Professor Binns returns-" An eruption of cheering greeted this, though a few confused younger students needed to be told about this well-liked professor. The known werewolf was visibly surprised at this reaction and a small smile graced his pale face.
When they had quieted down, Professor Dumbledore continued, this time with a sad frown. "It is unfortunate that our Charms professor, Filius Flitwick, was injured in the Diagon Alley incident when looking through this years required spell books. He will most likely return next year to teach as his injuries are such that he must rest. Professor Sinistra will act as temporary Head of Ravenclaw house. Wyvern Irving will take the post of Charms professor until he returns." There was a lot of applause, largely from the female portion and from the Slytherin table. Their former seeker was still famous among his old house. Wyvern, looking calm and composed in dark blue robes, blinked one brown eye nonchalantly. Its usual eye patch concealed the other eye.
"Last of our new professors," Dumbledore finished. "Raistlin Majere will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class this year." There was no applause, just shocked silence. An amused smirk appeared on the new teacher's face at this. With his pale hair, golden skin, and strange eyes, he looked intimidating, though he was not bad looking. It was just that the aura of power and intelligence around him diminished their own assurances of self. Even Dumbledore seemed less than great compared to this newcomer, while Professor Snape did not seem as scary. He sat in between the Potions professor and the new Charms instructor, looking like there was nothing that bothered him at all. His robes were blacker than night, with a silver pattern along some parts of it. One of these patterns was a silver dragon with wings. Dumbledore also seemed entertained by this reaction. "I trust you will you will treat him with respect."
"All the old rules apply, including no students allowed in the Forbidden Forest. Though why I keep saying this is beyond even myself, as many students tend not to listen to that one. No magic in the hallways. Our caretaker Mr. Filch holds the list of forbidden objects. I believe it has expanded to over 750 items."
The toady woman let out a large "Hem-hem" when Dumbledore concluded his speech. She was soon the recipient of glowering and curious looks. Maybe it was her tone of voice, but no one wanted to listen to her. She had the presence of one who was extremely irritating and a snitch. Even the shy Neville Longbottom was giving a death glare. Of course, none of the student scowls could compare to those of the now secretly and unanimously dubbed "Terrible Trio". Severus Snape, Raistlin Majere, and Wyvern Irving looked quite peeved at her very existence. Professor McGonagall looked like an angry cat.
"Oh, yes, right," Dumbledore started, looking surprised. Some students sniggered. It seemed as if the Headmaster wanted to forget that the woman was there. "This students is Dolores Umbridge. She will be acting as the supervisor over Hogwarts for the Ministry." Umbridge was about to speak, but Professor Dumbledore stopped her. "It is a pity that we cannot hear what she has to say, but I am afraid we have an exceptionally large first year class to sort." More sniggering. "Now, let us begin the Sorting. Professor McGonagall, if you will?"
He personally couldn't believe he was doing this. Melania did promise him great rewards for taking this job on. But teaching these…children?! It could have been worse. Imagine if he were disguised as a student and had to walk among these poorly filled minds. That would have been much worse, possibly to the equivalent of Abyss…or even Tartarus. Hearing these brats call him "Professor Majere"…maybe he should have stayed in the dark realms…or even among the reapers.
Either way he was stuck in this position. And being that he was accepted this job, he'd do his best at it. And possibly show these backwater mages what real magic was. Oh. He had to use a wand. It was a disgrace to use a wand. The goddess of darkness had thankfully given him a magic staff made on his home planet of Krynn, which could lengthen and shorten at will. It was very similar to the Staff of Magius, but slightly more powerful. When he had asked where she had gotten it, Melania had only said that it took a lot of convincing. Raistlin, curious mage that he was, decided to let it drop. Her voice had the distinct tone of 'don't go there'. So, he kept his silence.
Looking at the collective pupils that had to lower himself to educate, he saw that some had potential. A few of the students had the potential to use other magicks, but they were in the younger set of them. The older ones seemed to have firmly established their blocks against them and were completely devoted to wizarding magic.
Though there was some hope. In the house – the green one – that everyone seemed to hate, he could see the faint auras of elementals. That blonde haired boy, whose smirk was obviously a farce, looked to have a powerful water aura. The elemental magic of the school appeared to be gathered at that place. Raistlin could only assume it was because of magical throwback and the fact that their head of house happened to be a very powerful elemental himself, even if the man did not know it.
Glancing over to the red – the Gryffindor – table, he saw that most of them were very subdued. It was immediately deduced it was because someone was missing from their midst. Harry Potter, the Dark Prince. Though the other people here probably didn't know that. Albus Dumbledore was correct in that Harry was a descendant of Godric Gryffindor. But the boy was no child of the founder's wife, Pheta Gryffindor. Melania still held a grudge towards the spirit of that man, but had nothing against those of the house itself. She would know, disguising herself as a headmistress at one point in history. But a redheaded boy sitting by the empty chair had great potential to be a Guardian, but his ability to use blood magic seemed to have diminished under his tutelage here. Perhaps something could be done. Guardians were relatively powerful chaos magic users. Not the strongest, but powerful in their own right. It would take a lot of effort to achieve it, but it could be done. Maybe he should speak to Melania about all this…
Speaking of chaos magic users, it was easy to see who to be careful of. The command magic user he had been warned about was sitting right beside him. This intrigued Raistlin. Would this Wyvern Irving try to use his command magic on him? It was doubtful that it would work. He had much more experience with magic and was a command user himself, though his expertise was in the dark type. But he was definitely a Soulseeker. Soulseekers were dangerous in that they could manipulate the power and fate of the soul in general, besides having a lot of chaos magic. It wouldn't be too hard to deal with though.
Severus Snape was the water elemental Slytherin head. Of course, being a Slytherin, he was cunning. It was the house's most prominent trait. It was unfortunate that most had a biased view against slyness. Being shrewd and wily had gotten him out of plenty a situation. Raistlin nearly laughed when he saw the man: he didn't know who he was! There was a chance to break the block: the elemental power was strong. But Raistlin wasn't going to be the one to help.
It was good to see that the dark magic spell he had put on himself had disabled the werewolf from recognizing him. It wouldn't do for 'Mr. Majors', manager of an average muggle appliance store, to show up as a wizard. Moros and Melania had thought of practically everything.
Dumbledore was speaking again. Moros had done an excellent job in coming up with a motive for his election to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Influencing the English Ministry of Magic and other magical schools into opening an exchange program to strengthen unity was ingenious, especially when using the moderate success that the Triwizard Tournament had brought. It was unfortunate that the disgusting Umbridge woman had to be here as well. Maybe he could ask Melania if he could turn the toad in pink into a toad in the literal sense. Raistlin was certain that some animal would like to eat her. Or would they? He disengaged himself from that entertaining thought thread back to the present. The Sorting had just finished and now only four very special students remained standing. Who knew that they were agents of the goddess of darkness herself?
"Hogwarts is pleased to be the host of a student exchange program," Dumbledore began. Raistlin's smirk grew wider. The man had been slightly suspicious of the Ministry's sudden decision. Thankfully, when he approached the headmaster to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (no student of his will ever call the subject 'DADA'), there hadn't been too much trouble. His résumé had been carefully put together to show an almost perfect candidate. Almost perfect: he had to allow himself some faults to show that the document or his personality wasn't fabricated. That Sirius Black had been distrustful of him from the start.
A fire elemental with chaos magic locked away, it was amusing to see a descendant of Thanatos be so serious. But being among dementors and going through all the tragedy he had gone through probably had to do something with it. No doubt he was worried about the boy. At least he had turned out better than the previous Blacks. Thanatos had gotten so fed up with them that he had left them on their own completely. Another reason was possibly dealing with the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. Obviously weren't exactly the best. Which he generally was. If only the students knew who was teaching them. "We have four students from three schools join us in this year of Hogwarts. I trust that you will treat them with courtesy." The white-bearded defeater of Grindelwald nodded to that stern woman who had brought the new ones in.
The woman – his new colleague, Minerva McGonagall – unrolled a separate roll of parchment. In a clear voice, she called out the first name. "Constantine, Forrest!"
According to the papers, Forrest was a fifteen year old who was a student of Salem Institute of Magical Crafts. The boy was in fact, a mediator. Mediators were much stronger than mediums. Mediators could actually touch unseen ghosts and spirits and speak with them. Some had even made connections with spirits in Annuvin. He was tall with a well-built look about him, with a strong angular face set with dark green eyes and framed with long sandy hair in a ponytail. With a skeptical expression, he put on the hat.
A few moments passed, before the hat let out its decision. "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table seemed happy to see another new member. Forrest was quite the contrast to the typical Hufflepuff it seemed. Even some of the other tables seemed shocked at the placement.
"Kakar, Veda!"
Supposedly from Durmstrang, she was also disguised as a fifth year. Raistlin wondered in amusement whether Indra Mugdal knew his descendant was working for Melania. Veda, a pretty Indian girl with long black hair and wise brown eyes, was actually quite knowledgeable about most things in the world. But though she had a love for information, she had chosen to follow the dark arts. It had taken a lot of "godly" interference to allow Avalon to relinquish this impressive dark justice.
"RAVENCLAW!"
There was another round of applause before Professor McGonagall continued. That was two in so far.
"Quinn, Alexandra!"
This agent would be impersonating an innocent fourth year from Beauxbatons. She was quite lively and energetic, which was ideal for the mission. No doubt she would attract many friends. With more friends, more information would be gathered. Alexandra was a chestnut-haired, blue-eyed hecatian from Wales. Hopefully, the girl would know better than to invoke the magic of the dark witch goddess here.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Three down, one more to go. The last one was up next. "Reginald, Brian!"
It wouldn't be too hard. Brian was very sneaky and was the second-in-command in this operation. Even his dark looks from his Celtic background showed that he was quite shrewd. He was under strict orders not to raise the dead here, as it would cause alarm not only among the people here, but alert Pheta as well. Brian accepted, grudgingly. But by far, this agent going incognito as a sixth year from Durmstrang would be very useful to them.
"SLYTHERIN!"
They were in.
Nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing.
That's was what the family records said of Mirage Searle: nothing.
Severus Snape resisted the urge to scream in frustration and violently swiped the papers off his mahogany desk. Family trees, certificates of birth and marriage, death announcements, newspaper clippings, the family record book all crashed down to the floor in a flurry of parchment. He then sat down back down in the plush green chair at the now empty table, running long fingers through limp black hair.
It was all too testing. There's the revelation of Potter's home life, Sirius Black, the mysterious magic possessed by Potter's cousin, his grandmother's final words, Pettigrew's demise, Voldemort's malice, Diagon Alley, spying, that strange cat, Remus Lupin, Wyvern Irving, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and the transfer students. And top it all off with being a spy and the head of a house whose jaded and misjudged inhabitants would probably be the first to join the ranks of Voldemort.
He was stressed.
It probably showed, he thought wryly. Several students literally scampered out of his way as he stalked down the corridors after the feast, dark robes billowing behind him like angry storm clouds. No doubt his expression mirrored this as well. It was true that Severus had very good reasons for being so, as mentioned before. Though it was finally seeming to affect his usually stoic and stolid nature.
He had pored over those documents to find nil on his grandmother. Even his grandfather's old diary, kept safe in the Snape account in Gringotts, told nothing on his grandmother's origin. Xavier Snape praised his grandmother endlessly, but nothing of her past. A few passages had caught Severus' interest, but he wasn't sure whether to look into them or not.
…She had walked into my life out of nowhere, I am forever thankful for that…I hear her sometimes at night, mumbling strange words. It is hard to understand what she says. But one time I heard distinctly of "water", "element", and "wolf." Though what she means I cannot say…
It was a little known fact that Severus hated his parents. His father was abusive and had a habit of getting drunk. The fact that he was deep into the dark arts and a loyal follower of Voldemort had only benefited Severus in one way: to help get himself among the death eater ranks. His mother was too weak to defend herself or to leave. How many times had he tried to persuade her that they were better off leaving? But no, she claimed they were safer where they were. He had never seen the logic in this. He would have strangers torture him than his own father.
When his mother had died, he was supposed to have returned to live with his father. At the funeral, the man literally tried to drag him back to their home and Severus' wrist had bruised quite a bit from the grip. But his grandparents had intervened and took him home with then. That was the last time he saw his father alive. The only time was in a coffin and he had watched the procession from afar. He had no desire to attend a funeral for someone who had hurt him and stand among the mourning audience, they being death eaters in disguise.
But his times with his grandparents were the best years of his life. If not for them, he would have never gotten through Hogwarts. How many times had he begged to be pulled out? No, they told him to stick it out. And how if he didn't give up, then those who persecuted him would never achieve their victory. Severus had seen their point. Every year at the Opening Feast, his biggest tormentors – James Potter and Sirius Black – always wore scowls when they saw that he was still sitting proudly among the Slytherins.
There was another interesting log. One time apparently, Mirage had slipped when scolding his father, then a youngster. Apparently, his father's hatred of the loyal house-elf ReeRee existed even in his childhood. Though Severus never knew why as the house-elf was loyal, kind, and very efficient. And Xavier was quick to catch onto her mistake.
…Ethan was acting up again. It seems that though the desire to become embedded with the dark arts has escaped me, it has passed onto my children. I apologize constantly to Mirage for this. I can see it pains her to hear this come from the mouth of her own. This attitude of hers has made me able to deduce that she had bad experiences with the dark arts in the past…
…This time, Ethan was torturing the house-elf ReeRee over the state of his soup at dinner. It was nothing really; it just needed to be warmed up a bit. But he was yelling at the poor thing, claiming it was the elf's fault that the liquid had cooled. ReeRee was in quite a state over this and I was prepared to take action. After all, it was not the elf's fault, but Ethan's. We had called him to dinner an hour before he had decided he was fit to join us. But Mirage had beaten me first…
…I was quite shocked to see the vegetable soup incased in hard ice a moment later, as was my intolerable son. Looking across the table, I saw my wife giving Ethan a gaze that made the Antarctic hotter than the tropics. "ReeRee, she had said, icicles fringing her every word. "There is no need for punishment. You hold no blame. You may leave and calm yourself if you wish." The elf bobbed gratefully before popping out of the room, most likely to the kitchens. Mirage then turned to Ethan. "You will appreciate what you have, young man. Be happy you have soup and a nice house to live in. Some in Grey Tower never had –" She had stopped, before continuing on another thread entirely. Nevertheless, her voice was still a frosty cold and the scar marring the skin beneath her left eye was white. A sure sign that she was angry. "You will learn respect for others, including those whose station is beneath you. When you leave this house, I cannot control your actions, but while you are here, be mindful of your place and place. Do I make myself clear, Ethan?" Ethan had agreed quickly before hastily leaving the room. I would have to talk to him later about what he had done. And my speech would probably be much like my wife's.
But what is Grey Tower? Is that where Mirage hailed from? And how did the soup become trapped in that ice?
Indeed. Those were good questions. And the last mystery of them all was extremely vague to him. Scribbled hastily on the cover of the leather-bound, his grandfather had written this late entry.
…She still refuses to tell me of her past…but I can forgive her…I love her and her past does not matter to me, I wish that the past would not torture her so much. She says that Severus, our grandson, will turn out to be an upstanding man. Where she had failed in Ethan, she succeeded in Severus. She said that he would be her heir, though I do not understand what she means…
…It strikes me as odd that we have lived together so long, yet her words can still be unclear to me. I do not think of it much. I accept it. There is some sort of comprehension between us…
…Severus is her heir, she claimed…
This struck him as odd. It was true that when his grandparents had passed away, he had received a rather large sum of money. He rarely used it in any case, though he did make donations from time to time in memory of the two who had took him in. But, his grandmother had said that he was her heir. But to what was he heir?
And the last words in the final passage were these. He felt that they were important. The entry claimed that Mirage had finally told Xavier of her past. But his grandfather had not written of it, just these words. Severus did not understand what was meant it.
…Sekai-Kage Wolves, the wolves of the world's shadow…
***