Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter and characters/ideas related to it. I do own Melania and the other gods along with the plot. As well as Thanatos. Figuratively, to my dismay.

Elemental Sight

Chapter Four
Insanity and Lunacy

I am not crazy…okay, maybe I am. I probably got the backlash from all the older ones – Artemis, Moros, and even my own twin Hypnos. Father says he knew I was going to be a difficult on the day that I was born. While Hypnos put his doctor to sleep, I killed the one who delivered me. I adamantly maintain the conviction that this was not my fault, no matter if what Artemis was saying about the newborn me giggling maniacally when I had done the deed. By the way, is it even possible to giggle maniacally? Now there's an interesting thought.

-Thanatos (Who is the greatest? I am! Booyah! Yeah, that's right. The rest of you suck! I rule!)

Humans and gods did seem to be extreme opposites from each other in nearly every respect. The human philosophy took it further – gods were perfect in whatever they represented, whether good or bad. This couldn't be farther from the truth than saying that cats weren't really super-intelligent beings that took refuge on Earth sometime after the dinosaurs after their planet had self-destructed or that life only existed on Earth alone. These were cold hard facts – the only problem with their verity was that human beings were stubbornly steadfast in their belief to not accept them. To them, Earth was the most important place in the universe (the "center") and cats were just strange creatures that seemed to think that they were superior over everything else.

Most gods and most people who knew better didn't bother to point out this mistake. For one thing, the people that knew better tended to be put in mental institutions very quickly. As for the gods – they couldn't deny that the belief that they were faultless made dealings with mortals a lot easier. For who would dare go against an omnipotent and supreme figure? No one with any sense of survival would. Not to mention it stroked their ego quite a bit.

But gods weren't perfect. One of the last surviving philosophers in the last years of the Lost Golden Age, millenniums ago, once equated gods as being the first model of intelligent beings. Gods had feelings, gods had responsibilities, and gods were privy to the orders of higher powers (in their case, the highest powers, and so on and so forth. They could fight amongst each other, party with each other, have children, and be more or less difficult and troublesome. Such actions were the hallmark of all intelligent beings. The only difference was that the extremes of a god were the fact that they couldn't die unless under very special circumstances (i.e. a Harbinger) and that they generally were a lot stronger and smarter in almost everything they did. Of course, there were exceptions to this.

And, like all intelligent creatures, they could also get drunk. It just took a bit more of the substance, but the result was more or less the same.

One of the main rules of the gods was to never ever let mortals know this fact. The thought was: you would never do anything your boss told you to do if you knew he was drunk, the same applies here.

The only known exceptions to this rule were the institution of the Reapers. The reasons were: they were "dead" already, they were serving a god directly, and their boss tended to get smashed a lot. "A lot" being an understatement, but the Reapers rarely ever minded. The god that they served under, Thanatos, was just like that.

"Why am I not surprised to find you in this state?"

"Artemis, go away. It's the hangover."

"How much alcohol did you consume while loitering around and not doing your job?"

"…Lost count after thirty-second shot."

"Would it help you if I told you that Father was completely expecting this?"

"Nope."

"I figured it wouldn't."

Thanatos a.k.a. Nathaniel Sebastian Black a.k.a. many other names a.k.a. Nat groaned. He felt the soft material of a bed beneath his back – and judging from the slight aching in his limbs, he did not sleep in such away that was beneficial for the body to be in. Opening one bleary blue eye, he saw the blurry shape of his sister sitting on the bed. He couldn't see her expression all too quickly, but he could imagine it – that stern, "you are a nuisance" look that he often got. To Nat, that had been the glance she been giving him since he was three, after the incident when he broke her first moon globe.

Really, some people held a grudge over the littlest things.

There was an exasperated sigh. "You're incorrigible, Thanatos," she said mildly, brushing aside his slurred objection to be called his full given name. He hated when anyone used it. But mothers were mothers…and no one messed with their mother – not even their dad, and he was the strongest dark god that there was.

His eyes snapped open when he felt Artemis' cold fingers pinching his nose, preventing from breathing. As his mouth instinctively opened to compensate for the lack of air, a potion was poured down his throat. Minty, was one of the few words his brain managed to come up with between cursing the existence of older sisters, thrashing about, and spluttering. In particular, spluttering. He resumed breathing once again when she took her fingers away and he thought he could see a mischievous grin flitting across her face. It was only after a few seconds when he realized he felt perfectly fine.

In fact, better than fine.

As his vision cleared and nausea dissipated, he noted that he was in a comfortable room. Which was definitely not where he had collapsed so cheerfully the night before. The wallpaper was powder blue and patterned with forget-me-nots in indigo, the rug covering the floor was deep red. With furniture painted in white and clean sheets, he judged that he wasn't in Leith Maitland's London anymore. From the large bay window, sunlight streamed in through white linen curtains and he could hear the sounds of the busy city. Nor was he in Kansas, but where that strange state in the American lands had to do with anything, he really didn't particularly care.

He was like that about most things.

Sitting up, he fixed his sister with a deathly glare. The moon goddess, as regal and aloof as ever, simply ruffled his hair affectionately. If she assumed that would make up for an 'attempted murder', she would be wrong. Even if…they couldn't exactly die it was the principle of the thing. The triple-damned principle of the thing!

Where Nat was dark and impish, Artemis was pale and refined. She took more after their mother Nyx, the goddess of the night. He resembled their father Erebus, the god-king of darkness, as did a majority of his siblings. Her hair was pale white and straight and this was one of the few times he had seen her wear it loose; when he was younger he was fascinated by it, causing her to always put it up. Her skin was a shade darker than her hair and the deep brown eyes that she possessed appeared even more striking and otherworldly than if they had been any other color. Currently, she was wearing a dark blue Mandarin-style Chinese dress, Chinese rune symbols embroidered into the material using white thread around the high-collar.

Nat raised an eyebrow at her attire, earning him a smack. Didn't think Arty would dress in anything that was less than formal. Gingerly, he rubbed the offending spot, pleased that he could always get a rise out of her. She was much more concerned with her duties and regulation than he ever was (or, in all likelihood, ever would be). Which was probably why she was their mother's favorite child.

"Apparently," she reproved, "the potion worked fine. Hypnos was concerned that you were lying somewhere in the gutters of London, smashed out of your bleeding mind, and covered in garbage." He pouted, making her cover her face with her hands in frustration. "Whether you were or not isn't the point I'm trying to make. You have to take better care of yourself when wandering around on Earth! By the name of our father, you know how strange the mortals can be."

"I think I had every right to go and get myself so drunk I couldn't see straight!" he retorted. I wasn't doing anything wrong! And besides, what is she doing here to begin with? His mind whirled to come up with a suitable answer. She wouldn't be here unless…either Mum or Dad sent her…please not Mum, please not Mum! If their father had sent Artemis, he could probably get away with it. But if their mother had decided to have his sister fetch him?! He was admittedly a troublemaker, but no one crossed the goddess of the night! Now that was unheard of!

I have got to get out of here! Immediately, he started to gather the energy to end up anywhere but here. He wasn't going to be very specific, but someplace that wouldn't be a threat to his health would be nice. Being in mortal form had some drawbacks…okay, a lot of drawbacks.

Artemis frowned in disapproval, taken to strumming her fingers against the wood of the small nightstand to relieve her irritation. He knew that in all accounts, she cared about him. It was just that he had a habit of hitting every one of her pet peeves. "Really, now? This I would like to hear." She fixed him with a sharp brown glare – and he knew that the disappearing act that he was about to pull of in that next second wouldn't work.

"I…saw my descendants…" he ventured uncertainly. "And…you were…right…" As soon as those words were vented, he leaped out of bed and raced towards window. Grinning madly, he jumped out the window into the alleyway below. Freedom! He left his sister behind in the room, no doubt shocked by his reckless behavior. But, being a god, he completely forgot about the restraints of physics.

Artemis sat calmly on the duvet, with a contented smile on her face. With a flip of her hair, she rose to her feet. She was prepared to leave when a sarcastic voice suddenly spoke out, cynical amusement dripping from every word. "Aren't you going to stop him?" She turned to face the tall man in the shadows, garbed in a long black trenchcoat. The man's face was also shaded from view because of his fedora hat, but she could easily see the smirk gracing the man's lips. "We both know that our younger brother gets himself into trouble quite easily."

"Let him have his fun," she said matter-of-factly. As the two oldest children of born of Erebus and Nyx, they were the ones who kept the other younger ones in line. Even if they disliked what they had to do – surely, they had better things to do with their time – it was their responsibility. "Besides, it gets him out of our hair for a little while, Moros." She stretched out her limbs languidly. "Like Nat does say, we do need to take a break sometimes."

The grin of the older god grew wider and craftier. "But what about Mother? Surely you have thought of that."

"I'm sure Melania will come up with something."

They both vanished from the room.

On the floor of the alleyway, one god of death found himself cursing his luck. Not only was he only in a nightshirt and underclothes, but also he managed to land himself in a particularly smelly pile of refuse, just barely missing an old mattress by a foot.

Yes, he was cursing his luck. Loudly. And eloquently.

Clothes were good things, Nat decided as he walked down the street, thankfully in more appropriate attire than a nightshirt. This was not the first time he had ever thought this – many gods were under this impression to begin with. According to his father, who was one of the oldest gods to exist, the concept of clothes came about with the creation of the light god Culinary, an extremely obese deity who had a passion for cooking and food as well for the catchphrase "Bam!". Clothes were considered a necessity after that. Thanatos was told this at the age of small age of three when he had – like most young children did when growing up – refused to wear any clothing.

He was a cute child, his mother often said, but one that required infinite patience to raise. This wasn't any surprise to him. He was difficult now as it was.

He didn't know if Artemis had just had his comfort in mind…or if she was being evil. Between her and Moros, it was always hard to tell. Older siblings, whether immortal or not, seemed to be inherently sadistic. Whether that was part of the ultimate way things worked or not wasn't known.

Ah well, he thought as he strolled down the street, drawing disapproving looks from the more socially conscious people passing by. They are what they are. At least they didn't tie me up and lock me in a closet like they did last time. He was dressed similarly to what he was wearing the day before, except in dark blue this time. Nat winked at a good-looking servant girl as she passed by with a basket of bread, grinning at the blush that colored her face as she giggled with her friends.

Oh yeah. He still had it.

It was at that moment while turning the corner that he was accosted from behind, nearly tripping in the process. Looking down, Nat soon found the source of his dilemma – a small young girl around thirteen was hiding behind his legs, trying to put some space between herself and a raggedy young ragamuffin that came careening our of a sweetshop. They were obviously relatives in some way – though the girl's pale green pinafore was in much better shape than the boy's shirt and breeches. Freckles were scattered across both their cheeks and they both had the same curly hair, though the girl had auburn tresses and the boy's locks were chestnut in color. But one was obviously better off and more polished than the other.

"That is so not true, Cornelia!" the boy yelled, trying to reach beyond Nat to grab at the girl, only succeeding to trip and land himself in a puddle of mud by the curb. Nat raised an eyebrow at the girl's high-pitched laugh as she ran down the street, her mocking voice carrying above the sellers and the wheelcarts.

"Is too, Gardner! And you know it is!" Nat soon lost sight of her among the crowd of milling people. He shook his head fondly, reminded of his younger sister Pandora. Much like that girl – Cornelia, apparently – the youngest was more than a bit spoiled. Of course, Dora got better over time (slightly), but there were still those years that he remembered just avoiding her for a while. Melania was not so fortunate as the de facto babysitter.

Kneeling down and helping the kid up, even if he was getting some mud on himself, he smiled amicably as the boy tried to regain his lost dignity. Which was admittedly hard considering he was covered from head to toe in muck. If Nat was gaining the censure of others simply for looking well groomed and a bit rich, then this rascal was a pariah of the highest regard. The boy, around ten, spit out some mud and looked about sullenly. Sulking, he muttered, "Thanks, mister," before trying to go on his way.

Curiosity killed the cat. Nat stopped the lad with a firm hand on the shoulder. "Hey, kid, what's the rush? Surely, you're going to explain that one to me. I usually don't find myself in the fights of youngsters. Older men, of course, but youngsters?" He smiled disarmingly. "Not only would it make me less of a man, but it's kind of hard to hit something so much smaller and quicker."

The young boy – Gardner - blinked in utter confusion, eyes wide in surprise; his face was almost comical. This only made Nat more amused – was he that far out of this era's norm? Evidently so.

"You see…" the boy struggled to convey, "we're cousins. And we were fighting over who was better, an elemental or a wiz-" Gardner's mouth snapped shut, his expression turning scandalized. Already, Nat's mind was working mischief. It was just the way that it tended to turn to. Elementals? Those guys are always interesting…a little change wouldn't be so bad…

"Whose better, an elemental or a wizard?" Nat prompted nonchalantly, enjoying the continuous shock that he was giving the child. He frowned in thought as he pondered this. "I suppose it depends on the level of skill. But under most cases? I would think the elemental – they have the advantage of surprise. Most of us do think we're the only lot that has magic." He bowed extravagantly before extending a gracious hand towards the boy, "Nathaniel Black, wizard extraordinaire, at your service, my dear boy."

"Oh! I'm Gardner Vartar," the boy replied, though he still didn't get the point of the extended hand. Either I'm far too informal or the kid is just shell-shocked that an adult isn't acting like stuck-up and strict. Damn Victorian philosophy. He would welcome the time when there would be less rules and more fun in general. People would be much happier. "I'm an elemental with the Suiko-Tsuki Panthers." He then looked grimly in the distance, where he saw the auburn-haired Cordelia enjoying a sugared plum and standing beside a rather forbidding woman who could only be her mother. The girl smiled back, slowly enjoying it.

The boy averted his eyes angrily, his distemper plainly loosing his tongue. Which wasn't bad thing - for what Nat had in mind to begin with was to get into the elementals' Grey Tower Town. But he needed a suitable reason. What better way than an invitation? Not only would it be a reason, he wouldn't be rude either. "She thinks she so great," Gardner fumed, "just because she's a witch. I don't lord over her with the fact that I'm a fire elemental and can block any of those curses that she throws at me." The lad crossed his arms heatedly and Nat could faintly see the red glow of fire around the boy's palms. "And all everyone does is go on and on about how great my wizard cousin is!"

"Don't pay attention to you, I assume?" he asked delicately. Nat had some idea of how the lad felt. It had often happened to him when he was younger. There were a whole lot of kids and only two parents – you try getting their attention. "They say how you should act like he does?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, sir! 'Look at his good grades, they have not seen scores like this!' or 'Did you hear that he made it on his house team? He scored sixty points in the last game!'" Gardner scowled in remembrance. "Always on and on about how great he is! And Aunt Margaret's no better, always trying to steal recipes from Mum to give to her house-elf just because she can't cook anything worth eating! I wouldn't be surprised if my brother does do what he's always saying he'll do and break our relations with them."

"I've had experience with that," Nat admitted. "It's a bit cathartic when it's for the best. Now let's go! We've got to get you some new clothes. Sooner than later!" He then began to steer the boy into the nearest tailor's store, despite the boy's protests.

"Sir, you just can't buy me new clothes! They're horribly expensive, 'specially here!"

"Young man, I assure you that money's no object," Nat countered blithely, noting how the tailors seemed to rush at him and take the boy to the stool to begin measurements. "You'll just have to find something to pay me back with." He smiled affably. "I believe that you said your mother is an excellent cook?"

"Yes, sir, Mum's the best cook in the world," Gardner claimed confidently. "I'd like to see the Queen's own chefs do better than my Mum!"

"Then it's settled! I give you new clothes, you pay me back by inviting me to dinner! If your mother's cooking is as excellent as you claim, then there shouldn't be a problem." Sharing a roguish grin, he added, "Maybe I'll run into your wizarding relations there. What is the name, pray tell, of your skilled and intelligent wizard cousin?"

"Geoffrey Dumbledore, he's sixteen. Then there's Cordelia and her twin, Aberforth. That one's a loon. And the baby of the bunch is twelve year-old Albus. We call him 'Albie' just to annoy him."

"That's the spirit!"

Is the Gardner's last name familiar? It should be. In Elemental Genesis, we find that Zylle's mother Sarah's maiden name was Vartar and she was originally from the Suiko-Tsuki Panthers. Gardner would be Sarah's uncle. So Sarah and Dumbledore are distant cousins to each other. Nat will meet Dumbledore himself (he's still a kid here) later on in the story.

---Raven Dragonclaw