Chapter 7: Darkness

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Bartta's eyes opened wide. "Sorcerous work." - The Ring of Five Dragons

---

When morning came, and Harry (the last one in the dormitory) stumbled out of bed, muttering a curse word as he tripped over the sheet on his way out, it felt as though every inch of his body had been slammed at least twice with a sledgehammer by an over-enthusiastic giant.

The training had been exhausting, and all he had learned were a few basic moves - basic in Atlantean terms, where fighting, whether for show or even to the death, was an art, and with thousands of years of perfecting the arts had meant literally hundreds of thousands of moves. Although it was true that many of the moves were barely changed variations of each other, there were over a thousand types of lunges, another two thousand parries - Harry's head had gained a migraine when Levina had performed just twelve motions in quick succession, and expected Harry to repeat them exactly. He was seriously beginning to regret ever agreeing to this 'training', which should more correctly be called 'beating Harry up'.

They had fought with the scabbards on their swords, to avoid deep cuts (plus, Levina explained that her blade was hollow and transparent, filled with a self-secreting purple poison, that was released through the spines on the edges - and frankly, Harry didn't want to be fatally wounded on his first night of training).

The training took four hours, and Harry only returned to the dormitory at one thirty in the morning, bruises starting to appear. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain them away - thankfully the larger ones were on his stomach and chest, hidden by his clothes - so he'd spent another ten minutes that night looking for spells to either get rid of bruises or to heal, and another five muttering the spell over the more obvious and nasty- looking ones.

The lack of sleep had taken its toll, and Harry stumbled blearily down to the breakfast table with black bags under his eyes, hair sticking up worse than ever, and muscles tense, tired and aching. As soon as Ron and Hermione spotted him, their eyes widened in shock, before pushing up to the further end of the bench, so that Harry would have room to sit. "Are you all right?" Ron asked, worried as Harry almost collapsed on to the bench with only a groan as a greeting. Harry gave him a pointed look, and Ron realised that it had been, in fact, a rather daft question.

Harry pulled some gammon and pineapple onto his plate, eyelids threatening to drop, while Hermione brought out her wand and recited a few words that made his wild hair a little flatter and tamer. Now it only looked as though he'd been caught in the middle of an Erumpent stampede.

"Tell you what, why don't you read this?" Ron asked, aware of the tense silence as his friend expected them to ask exactly why he looked like this. He took a piece of parchment from beside his soup bowl, and passed it over to Harry. "Filch came round the tables this morning, giving these out. Apparently, no-one's been to look at the rules in his office, so he's given these out so people will know what they can't do."

Harry stared blankly down at the piece of paper. "This only goes up to rule fifty, but it says at the top that there's six-hundred."

"Oh yeah," Ron said cheerfully, "There's some kind of enchantment on it. The back's blank, but if you turn it all the way round until you get to the front page again - no, bringing the left side over to the right, not the other way - it gets to rules fifty-one to a hundred. If you do it again, it goes on to the next fifty, and you can go back by turning it the opposite way. Look, they've even got the list of forbidden items added on at the end - hey, I didn't know Creeping Custard wasn't allowed..."

Harry turned back to the beginning and scanned down the first few rules.

Rule 1: No dragons are to be brought onto school grounds by anyone. (Yes Godric, that includes teachers.)

Rule 2: No second-years or under may leave school grounds without permission from a teacher.

Rule 3: No attempted suicides in the lake.

Rule 4: No swimming unclothed in the lake (this means you, Worthington!).

Rule 5: No singing 'The Innkeeper's Daughter' or other impolite songs, sonnets or poems at the table.

Rule 6: No inciting Goblins or House Elves to rebel.

"Hey, did you know you're breaking a rule, Hermione?" Harry asked amused, and Hermione scowled.

"That isn't funny. Besides, I'm not inciting rebellion - I'm just trying to get them to have wages, and I hardly think that's the same as telling them to go burn down the school, or whatever."

"Yes," mused Ron thoughtfully, "but if you're telling them to do something that the majority of the 'ruling class' as it were - by which I mean Wizards and Witches - didn't want them to do, then doesn't it count as rebellion? I mean, for all you know, it could lead to burning down the school or Ministry headquarters."

"Ron? Shut up."

---

Harry managed to get through Charms without falling asleep, and took the entire fifteen minute break to catch a nap, feeling a little better when he awoke. Defence was continuing the Equus daemon, and still Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who knew that the Myrrh Cage had been stolen - apart from Leone who, much to Harry's chagrin and was still acting maddeningly innocent. A sliver of doubt stuck into Harry's mind; surely no- one could be such a good actor as to order a woman's death, and not appear even slightly guilty - but he shook it away.

Divination and Potions, the final lessons of the day, Harry spent sleeping in the dormitory. The Divination post still hadn't received any applications, and Professor Snape was still overseeing the cleaning of the flooded dungeon, too busy to worry about the unimportant matter of helping students to pass their O.W.Ls.

Glad that he wouldn't be training until Saturday, Harry awoke at just before four o'clock, the bags under his eyes wonderfully lessened, and muscles feeling loose once more, though a bit stronger from all the exercise of the previous night. A note by his bedside told him that Quidditch try-outs for the Gryffindor team would be tomorrow at six o'clock, and that he was expected to be there to help judge.

After finishing their Transfiguration homework in the library, the trio had a brief debate over what to do, before settling on visiting Hogsmeade, where Fred and George hinted that they were thinking about buying a rundown building that would make a brilliant shop (Ron had said they didn't have any money, but the twins just grinned).

The sky of Hogsmeade was slightly more overcast than on the last visit, but it seemed even darker to Harry, when he suddenly remembered that he hadn't any money - it was all contained in his vault in Diagon Alley.

When he voiced these thoughts, Hermione scoffed, annoyed that Harry hadn't read a particularly boring sounding book called 'The History of Magical Currency' which apparently said that those who had accounts at major banks (such as Gringotts in Britain, or Dunneblakes in North America) could simply hand over their account keys to the storekeeper, who would immediately subtract the amount from the buyer's bank account. 'Much like a credit card', Hermione explained, which meant another eight minutes explaining what a credit card was to Ron.

The rest of the day was much more fun than the previous visits to Hogsmeade. Although he didn't automatically buy whatever he could, Harry now knew that he barely had a budget to keep to, and he also had figured out where the money had come from. Hadn't Dumbledore said that he couldn't give Harry all the money he should have rightly inherited from his ancestors, in case it attracted too much attention - and that he could have it now? All this was the money that his parents had left to him from their parents, and theirs, and theirs, and beyond, all contained in the trust fund that had been given early.

First, they sought out the empty shop that the twins had mentioned, and had gone into what seemed to be a Wizarding estate agents (though it was squashed in between two houses, and looked as though it only had two or three small rooms on each of its three floors) and had asked for the papers that held the details and photographs of the house, which Harry and Hermione had been quite excited by (though Ron was so used to it that he couldn't see what was so interesting), for instead of the typical few photos that Muggle ones had, there was two large photographs of the front and back of the building, and one huge photo on the final page.

This final picture was a moving one, and provided what looked like a guided tour of the house; just by touching the picture and running their fingers to the left or right, the view would turn around a number of degrees, and by tapping a door, it would seem to glide smoothly into the next room or up stairs.

Harry could see how the twins thought it would be perfect - the ground floor was two huge rooms; one large front, a back room the same size that could be used for stock, and a small room containing just a flight of stairs to the next level. The first floor (or second, as Americans called it) found the stairs open out to a wide hallway, with three rooms that could be used as bedrooms, a bathroom, and a final large room that could be a lounge. The final flight of stairs, up to the top floor, opened onto a corridor like the one below, which connected to five unspecified rooms, while also containing the entrance to the attic, which had been boarded up like the windows, though apparently it hadn't been opened in the last fifty years or so.

The building was outside, quite attractive, but on the inside, in a state of disrepair. The warnings for the house noted that some of the floorboards were rotten and would easily break, the handrails on the top flight of stairs were dangerously loose, the previous owners had suspected a wasp nest was somewhere inside one of the South walls, and finally that apart from all this, 'renovations might be needed', which Harry knew to mean 'it's a dump'.

This was proved on the guide picture, which showed the wallpaper was peeling/peeled off, the doors were rotting, their metal handles and hinges were rusting, the windows were boarded and broken, cobwebs hung gloomily about, the dust lay in layers about half an inch thick, and the carpets on the top two floors were so worn through that the floorboards could be seen beneath.

The building cost twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred Galleons, which Harry worked out to be in the region of about seventy-two thousand pounds. As he had only given the twins a thousand Galleons, which came to about two thousand, five hundred pounds, Harry didn't have a clue as to where they would get the rest of the money - take out a loan from Gringotts, presumably.

They searched through antique shops and second-hand shops, as well as modern shops like the apothecary, clothes shops, Honeydukes, and Dervish and Banges, and a suspiciously Dark looking shop, where Harry bought a small, silver hoop. Any key, whether it could usually insert itself onto a keyring or not, could be fastened onto it, and would immediately disappear, only to reappear when less than ten feet away from a lock it would fit into.

Harry also bought from the apothecary a small bag filled with various herbs, that specialised in helping sleep and erasing tiredness; the bag contained pinches of buckeye, camomile, hops, jasmine, lavender, passion flower, rosemary, and vanilla and peppermint, which apparently gave energy. It smelled strangely sweet, and the top of the bag was tied with a thin blue ribbon; the shopkeeper explained that blue symbolised sleep and rest, and so had some power within it - he also said that quite frankly, with so much 'sleep' power hanging about it, from all the herbs and the blue ribbon, he wouldn't be surprised if Harry never woke up, though this didn't stop him from selling it to him.

In case this didn't work (Hermione, Harry noticed, looked extremely doubtful that a fourteen Sickle bag could help him sleep better), he bought a bottle containing fifty rectangular grey pills, each about half a centimetre long, which eliminated tiredness, rather than helping sleep. These pills ('Oxtamed') were a little more expensive; four Galleons, about ten pounds - but Hermione looked appeased.

There was a sale at Gladrags (it looked like they were trying to outdo Madame Malkins' sale, which must have been losing them customers), and Hermione picked up a new set of dress robes, which unlike her periwinkle- blue ones, were more elaborate; more like a kimono than robes, a blue so pale that it was almost white, with a silver, oriental dragon reaching up from the bottom left to her right-hand side, just above her waist, as well as a matching pair of pale blue shoes with low heels, thin silver patterns running at the backs of them.

This reminded Harry to buy some for himself - it was likely that his old green ones would no longer fit - so he picked out a black pair with a small white, Celtic pattern, like a pair of lines entwining themselves into an elaborate, vaguely circular shape on his right side, on level with the lower part of his collar.

Ron bought a copy of 'Auror Testing and Training', the same book Neville owned, as well as pooling some money together with Harry to buy a large box of Chocolate Frogs - fifty of them were contained within.

Hermione was horrified by this, but as Ron argued, it meant they wouldn't have to buy any more for a long time, and as the box had preservation charms on it, they wouldn't have to worry about the chocolate melting, going off, or anything such as flies getting in, and the Frogs would last them for at least a month and a half.

"Plus, they've brought out a new lot of cards, but I don't think Hermione would accept that reason," Ron whispered to Harry when the girl had turned to admire a gold locket in a jewellery store window.

---

After stopping for dinner in the Three Broomsticks, they dodged past a group of sixth year Slytherins who had just come in, and hung around outside, discussing what to do next, which led to a two-to-one vote to visit the Quidditch store. The Quality Quidditch Supplies shop here wasn't as big as the one in Diagon Alley, but it still did a roaring trade; Shooting Stars, Comets, various Nimbus' and Firebolts sat proudly in their display cases, surrounded by kits for cleaning them and repairing them, Quidditch books, miniature models of brooms and players, balls, bats, padding, whistles, shirts and banners of various teams, signed photographs of the more famous players - anything Quidditch-related could be found here, packed between the five walls of the pentagonal store.

Packs of trading card games lay on the counter, and below them were racks of magazines; Ron dug out some money for a copy of Which Broomstick? and paid for it before beginning to read, while Harry looked over the banners, which also included ones for the Houses of Hogwarts - so that was where the students got the correctly-coloured flags to support the House teams. Harry paused at a particularly good poster of a Quidditch pitch from above, which included the moving teams, their faces barely visible, attempting to beat each other, while the crowd occasionally gave faint cheers and yells when their team scored.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Harry turned to see Ron, holding the magazine out for him to see on the 'News' page. Taking it, Harry began to read.

Rumours Take Flight Along With The Latest Test Broom!

By Bennett Berkley

Ellerby and Spudmore, the company responsible for the invention of the Tinderblast, Swiftstick and Firebolt, is now the centre of several rumours, sure to thrill the true broom enthusiast.

Over one of the Unplottable islands off the coast of England, which the company owns as a test site for its new products, a new type of broom has been spotted soaring. Made of a dark wood - likely to be oak or mahogany - this sleek and smooth wonder was seen racing against the Firebolt, one of the top sellers of the moment, and used by many professional teams.

Easily outstripping the Firebolt, this mysterious broom completed two laps of the small island before the its opponent had even finished one. Although the test rider could not be identified, many suspect it to be Luke Listerbill, the Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons.

But why would Ellerby and Spudmore hire such a professional, rather than using one of their own testers? Why, only because this broom would be too much for even most experts to handle!

Ellerby and Spudmore was unavailable for comment, except to release an official statement, saying 'If we were to be testing a new broom (which we aren't saying we are), then it would be top secret (which we aren't saying anything is) to prevent other companies from stealing the technology (which we aren't saying we have). Therefore, we can neither confirm nor deny the comments about the new broom (which we might not have).'

Although next-to-nothing is known of this broom, seen from too far away for the name or even type of wood to be seen, you can be sure that Which Broomstick? is investigating.

Harry was as impressed as Ron was. "It's over twice as fast as the Firebolt?" he said, agog at this speed. "I'm amazed they could even see it move!"

Ron nodded excitedly. "Just think how hard it must be to control - I mean, their test riders are well-trained, but to have to get a proper professional in? Tell you something, mate, it's going to be damn expensive - probably at least three-thousand Galleons. All the professional teams will be having them, though."

Harry handed the magazine back. "You know, if brooms keep progressing like this, soon no-one will be able to see the Quidditch players, they'll be going so fast," he joked, before pointing out the poster to Ron.

---

On Friday, Transfiguration was more interesting than it had been on Wednesday; the students were now learning the theory of the Animagus transformation, which the Marauders had mastered decades ago.

Unfortunately, this good news couldn't carry on to History of Magic, where Harry tested the Oxtamed pills by placing one on his tongue and letting it dissolve. It worked brilliantly - he didn't feel tired at all - but this had the adverse affect of making him sit through two hours of History without being able to get any sleep.

Magical Languages had a definite up-turn - Harry was one of only two (the ever-brilliant Hermione being the other, of course) to manage to get full marks on a mini-test they had that day, on the nouns and verbs of Mermish.

When they checked the Housepoints, they found that Gryffindor was coming in a close third; Ravenclaw was first, with two-hundred and ten points; Slytherin had one-hundred and eighty-five; Gryffindor one-hundred and eighty; and finally Hufflepuff had one-hundred and sixty.

As the trio moved to leave the Hall and the Scoreglasses, they found that their way was blocked by Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Ron pulled his wand out immediately, while Harry and Hermione stood on either side, ready to grab their own wands if need called for it.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, and blond smirked.

"Nothing to do with you, Weasel. I want a word with Potter - alone."

Ron looked at Harry as if to ask him whether this was a ridiculous idea, and he should curse him now, or if Harry wanted to talk to him. Harry paused. "What do you want to talk about?"

Malfoy gave him a pointed look. "Broomsticks over the head, Potter."

Ron and Hermione looked at him as though he'd gone insane, while Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem as though they'd noticed he'd said something extremely bizarre. "Ah - okay." Harry agreed. Well, he might as well hear him out. "Er, Ron, Hermione - can you meet me somewhere?"

"We'll see you on the Quidditch pitch when you're done." Hermione said before Ron could butt in. "Come on Ron." She grabbed his wand, and pulled him by the arm in the direction of the exit.

"Crabbe, Goyle, sod off." Malfoy ordered, and the brutes stood still for a moment to process this, before nodding like the lackeys they were, and heading upstairs. Briefly, Harry wondered how they didn't fall down stairs.

There was no-one but Harry and Malfoy left in the entrance hall now and the latter crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Harry. "Explain." he said simply.

"Explain what?"

"Oh, I don't know - say, for example, how you knew there was a daemon, or what you were doing up that night, or who that woman was, or how she got into school, or whether the daemon's still running around here - any of those would do for a start."

Harry sighed and rubbed his head. "Well... since you know about the Dark anyway, I suppose I could explain."

"It'd better be good," Malfoy stated, arms still folded.

"Okay then." Harry said, glaring at the others' rudeness. "I knew there was a daemon running about the school because the woman - Levina - told me. I was up that night because she'd told me to meet her. I don't know how she got into the school, and yes, the daemon is still 'running around' as you put it, except it's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Levina is -" here Harry hesitated; if he were to say she was an Atlantean, Malfoy would demand to know how she was still alive, and if Harry explained she was an android, it mean telling him about Techno-Magic. He decided to play it safely, and tell a half-truth. "- a descendant of one of the Atlanteans. She's here to train me against the Dark, and is going to help me get rid of the daemon. Enough answers?"

"Yeah, but a piece of advice," Malfoy said coolly, "Don't bother trying to lie to an Empath." "I wasn't lying!" Harry denied hotly, another lie.

Malfoy snorted. "Oh, please. Most of that was the truth, but that 'descendant of Atlanteans' part was rubbish. But fine, if you don't want me to know, I won't pry - I just want you to know that I know you're lying."

Harry was pleasantly surprised by this - he had expected Malfoy to try and force an answer out of him. Still, if he wasn't going to demand the truth, Harry wasn't going to make him.

Malfoy nodded to him, before climbing the stairs that his two bodyguards had left by, and Harry made his way outside to the Quidditch pitch to meet with Ron and Hermione, and to judge the people applying for a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There was still ten minutes until the try-outs began, but several students were already sitting on benches, holding broomsticks and shaking from a mix of late September cold, and nervous excitement.

---

As his friends interrogated him for the reason he spoke to Malfoy and what the Slytherin had wanted, and Harry apologised for not being able to tell them anything, the rest of the Quidditch team - Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie - and Madam Hooch entered the playing area, and waved Harry down over to them.

"We have to find a new Keeper, and replacements for the substitute Beaters." Angelina announced. "Oh, and we have to pick a Captain, but we'll do that after we've chosen the new players."

The Keeper position, as the more important, was to be filled first; the first two applicants - both second-years, over-eager and excited that they were old enough to join a team - were appalling, and Hooch crossed them off the list without even having to ask the team what they thought. The third; a sixth year, was better, saving six of the ten shots, but there was room for improvement. Harry was surprised to see that Ron was the fourth, managing to block eight out of ten, and the fifth and final applicant was Colin Creevey, who blocked seven shots.

Ron was the clear winner, but the Keeper substitute (a seventh-year girl called Emma McPollet) came out and managed to block nine - she moved up to Keeper position, while Ron became the substitute.

One of the substitute Beaters was easy to choose, with an excellent aim, and good power in the arm, but the second was harder, as there was a draw between the two next best, and in the end the rest of the team voted for a third-year boy who, though prone to swinging the bat a little more than needed, could hit the ball clean from one end of the pitch to the other, though the twins still outstripped him.

It was ten minutes later, while only the team, the main group and the substitutes remained on the pitch, gathered together to congratulate the new players and elect a Captain, that a sudden rumbling was heard, and a herd of Unicorns raced across the pitch from the Forest, coats sweaty and heaving with exhaustion and terror.

After leaping to the side, Harry could only gape as one of the most unbelievable things he'd ever seen ran by.

An entire herd of Unicorns, about sixty or seventy adults in total, with eight or nine foals, thundered over the neatly clipped grass of the pitch, their hooves churning the earth and mud beneath. Their eyes were rolling, panicked-looking, and some had mounds of bubble saliva, as though rabid, surrounding their mouths. Many had their chests breathing at an accelerated rate, fatigued but frenzied, nowhere near as beautiful as they had once been.

They had come from out of the Forbidden Forest, and had hurtled straight through one side of the stands, tearing through the material in no time at all with their sharp horns and powerful hooves, and were now heading in the direction of the lake, ready to rip through the material on the opposite stands.

A hundred thoughts raced through Harry's head, before settling on one; Why are they running? A hundred more thoughts followed, ending up with; Something's chasing them. Something that's enough to take on an entire herd of Unicorns. But what? This time though, the answer came immediately. They had come from the Forest - and what else was in there? What wouldn't be affected by the cursing power of Unicorn blood? It was only too obvious.

Whilst the rest of the team only watched in amazement and disbelief as the raving, raging creatures fled, the ones leading already bursting through the layers of material that covered the stands and revealing the wooden frame below, Harry took action. "Get out! Get to the castle!" he screamed over the noise of pounding hooves, terrified neighs and screaming whinnies of fear.

The team looked at him, puzzled, but the older ones caught on after a second. "Whatever's chasing them is dangerous, and it's coming this way!" Alicia yelled to make herself heard, and as this sank in to those who hadn't understood before, she started running towards the school, followed immediately by the rest of the team.

Harry made as if to follow, but stopped as soon as soon as he could, doubling back to follow the Unicorns instead. If this daemon was as smart as Figg had taught them, it was sure to go after the Unicorns, which would be trapped, unable to flee, at the lake, rather than chasing the humans who - though slower - would reach the school within minutes, where there were powerful adult Wizards and Witches, especially the few remaining Unspeakables.

Realising as he followed the beasts that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do, and there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would be killed - though more likely a hundred percent, as he didn't even have a plan, a weapon, nor a Myrrh cage to trap it - Harry pulled out his wand, slowing as he saw that the Unicorns had already reached the lake and were pacing anxiously to and fro up the banks, tossing their heads and snorting desperately.

What Harry assumed to be the mothers were standing in front of their foals to guard them, lowering their horned heads and stamping their hooves, though they would be no defence, and two or three of the adults had split off, running in a different direction, hoping to escape the same fate that their herd would be subject to.

Wondering why the daemon hadn't already appeared, Harry noticed a few almost flecks of silvery blood, almost indistinguishable against their coats, on the flanks of those that had been at the back of the fleeing group, and felt sick. That explained why it hadn't come yet - it had already caught one of them, one of the slower ones that had been at the back of the herd, and was finishing it off.

But with the chance of more prey to fill it after hundreds of years of nothing, it was doubtful it would be satisfied with just that - swallowing hard, Harry prayed to whatever deity was out there that he might survive this and protect the herd, and that reinforcements - whether in the form of Levina, or Dumbledore, or the Unspeakables - might come in time, and help him.

But as he saw, far away, a black humanoid creature with huge ebony wings come bursting from between the trees, running on legs like the hind legs of a dog, but with the speed of a cheetah, and hurtling in his direction, he realised with a sinking heart, rising bile, and burning upper chest that no- one would make it in time.

Wait - burning chest?

---

Levina, at the moment back in the city of Atlantis, though now enclosed in a protective bubble of air (she didn't need to breathe, but wet clothes were just so uncomfortable) was busy searching through the books in one of the many libraries of the city. This one - the most famous and grand of them - was in the royal sector, and the kings and queens had been its patrons. It had eight sides, the entire building made of pure, shining ivory.

Either side of the massive doors - as big as one and a half storeys, made from the magically preserved wood of a now extinct species of tree, and covered with a thin coat of silver, studded with pearls - were pillars that rose even higher than the doors, entirely ivory, right through to the core.

To reach the building, eight stories high, with almost church-like windows and with a transparent dome, topped with a tower that not only offered a view of the entire island, but held a gigantic solid silver bell that was enchanted to toll out every morning to the entire island, one would have to climb the eight ivory steps that ran around the length of the building raising it nearly to the height of one of the nearby temples (astonishingly, even grander than this building). The pursuit of knowledge, to the Atlanteans, was one of the highest endeavours, and this was a building that was made to prove it. Containing in it and in the vaults below, over three million different books, five million scrolls, and many orbs and rods that contained information in thoughts and words, rather than in writing, so even the illiterate commoners of the day could benefit from the wisdom.

There were only three buildings in the entire city of Atlantis that surpassed this one's beauty - the royal palace, the temple of the main goddess (as mentioned just a moment ago), and the museum, which contained paintings, tapestries, artefacts, weaponry, pots, jewellery, clothes, instruments, maps - thousands on display in cases and on walls, though hundreds of thousands more were kept in myriad vaults and rooms below the galleries, where they would be identified, noted, valued and studied by the archaeologists and museum workers.

These four buildings were the most important of all the architecture in Atlantis; the royal palace - 'The Palace of Majesty', or S'Turil Am Tupris; 'The Temple of the Blessed', or S'Kairn Am S'Verae; the library was 'Wisdom of Anya', the goddess of learning and knowledge, or Moun (the word only used for divinely given wisdom) Am Anya; and finally the museum was known as 'The Museum Born Of Understanding', or S'Mala Amast Mana.

Levina had managed to disable the wards against intruders in the vaults of Moun Am Anya, where the untranslated, or unrecorded books were kept while making copies (in case a borrower lost or damaged it), and also where they were kept while any information that was particularly interesting was extracted for use, whether for teaching in the schools, to develop technology, to test old and lost theories, before they went on the shelves on the main floors. Here was where the original, a copy, and a translated copy of each of the books were kept, only possible to borrow through permission of the Record-Keeper (the one who managed the library) or through royal or military permission. Only another translated copy was allowed to the shelves above to be borrowed at will.

Levina was at the moment searching through one of the larger sections of the vault; the rod section. Knowledge, the Atlanteans believed, should not be restricted only to those who could read the elaborate and complicated runes that was the language, and could take years to master - there were various other means of holding information apart from writing, so that anyone who could travel to the library could learn.

The rods were one clever way of storing knowledge - taking a blank one, transparent, and usually about as long as a teenagers' forearm (though many were portable, and only the size of a stretched-out hand), the rod - made of a glass-like material made by magic - could be scanned down a page, immediately copying the words or images inside it. As it absorbed more information, swirls of what appeared to be ink would appear inside it, of the colour of the writing in the book - if, for example, the book had been written in black ink, with a few illustrations in blue and red, the rod would appear to become mainly a misty black, but with streaks of swirling blue and red running though.

After the book was copied, the title and author would be engraved onto the crystal-like exterior, as well as the main category of the information; health, education, etc, and the indentations of the letter would be inset with jewels of a colour that would show up against the foggy interior; opals on a black rod, rubies on a blue rod and so on.

These rods had major advantages over books, parchments and scrolls - instead of poring through musty or new tomes to decipher their contents, one could simply take the required rod, hold each rounded end with both hands, and say the title aloud, which would then trigger the enchantments, allowing the information contained to be released into the mind of the person holding it, at a rate faster than reading, but not enough (unless you were to be reading dozens a day) to give any headaches.

Along with this, as the information was going to straight to the brain so not only was there the fact that the brain - even with no prior knowledge of runes, so even the normally illiterate could 'read' them, and there was no chance of missing words and so on, there was also the added bonus that this made the information easier to remember - most Atlantean studies put it about sixty percent easier, though some boasted that they could recite entire books and describe the illustrations perfectly after using it only once. This (unsurprisingly) made them extremely popular with students before exams.

Levina, however, was certainly not studying for a test, nor looking up the early theories of Mana Storms or the creation of an Enchantment Nexus, nor the myths of the Gold Bone Skull, or the Secret Life Lance. Instead, she was searching in the Military section, or to be more specific, in the Military sub-section of 'Fighting Arts'.

Carrying what appeared to be a rack filled with ten round holes, Levina paused every now and then to select a rod, read the title and then either put them back in place on the shelves (which looked more like a gigantic version of the rack she was carrying) or in her own rack.

So far, the two spaces filled in her carrying frame contained 'The Longsword: A Concise Examination of Variations' by Ferrir Bravaley, and 'Basic Swordfighting' by Chal d'Sparrn. She then selected 'Advanced Swordfighting', by the same author, before moving to the opposite side of the room - the 'Calling of Pre-Existing Magical Constructs' sub-section - a selecting 'Sendings and Dismissals' by Alac Battica, 'Basic Summoning' by Duke Herme Winte, 'The Book of Summons' by the same author, and 'Demonology and Daemon Summoning Volume One' by Cilare Drubane. Three more rods could be carried, so moving onto the next section, she picked out 'The Tiger's Book of Transformation' by an anonymous author, 'The Animal Gods' Prayers' by various priests of the different gods and goddesses of creatures, and finally 'Enchantments of Y'Laagrondd', which was mainly snake and dragon magic, including spells that could be could be considered Dark and Light.

Unaware that it was getting more doubtful by the second that Harry would be alive to learn from the books, she closed the lid on the carrying rack, and started off in the direction of the exit.

---

As the Quidditch players burst into the entrance hall, gasping for breath, there was only Professor McGonagall there to greet them. She took one look at the ragged group that had burst their way through the doors, and began asking questions. After just a single minute she had ascertained that, a) a herd of Unicorns had rushed through the pitch, b) they were being chased by something, c) as it was coming in their direction, and obviously dangerous, they too had fled. Oh, and when she realised that the group were the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she did a quick count, and noticed that one player was missing. Sending the team to fetch the Aurors and Headmaster, she brought out her wand, and raced outside, hoping she wasn't too late.

She was.

---

Tom, loyal servant of Sir Abyssay, was at the moment battling his way through one of the most terrifying and deadly things in existence (paperwork to be honest, but nevertheless an effective poison to even the stoutest man's heart). He was interrupted by this when a small red light on his desk lit up with a small 'ping'.

Not pausing for a second, the man's head immediately turned to face a large clock on the wall. Instead of telling the time however, this was a particularly large and detailed version of the common Wizarding clock, which told the status of the Wizard or Witch identified. Around this, rather than the usual twelve of most status clocks, were sixty outcomes, one where each minute should be, and beside was written (in tiny ink) the meaning.

At the moment, one of the three hands, marked 'Harry Potter', was pointing to 'Mortal Peril'. Throwing his quill down immediately, Tom swore fluently in Troll (there was something wonderfully expressive about the guttural tones of Trolls) and brought his wand down on a small screen on top of his desk. "26H, code twelve!"

---

Perhaps, before we continue, the powers of those known as 'The Dark', or 'The Five' should be explained. A magical ritual, passed down through the royal family, ensured that every heir would receive a gift that would help them rule - although quite frankly, it appears in hindsight that lessons on decency would have been more useful.

Though the powers given were random, they had certain limits; only people with magical power above a certain level could control a given power - for example, it would be impossible to receive the gift of Necromancy if below the rank of an Enchanter, and so on. Because of this, the powers given could either be weak or strong, depending on the pre-existing power of the subject of the ritual.

Unfortunately for the Resistance, the Dark were powerful to begin with.

Dagda, the eldest prince, was endowed with the power of the Telekini. Able to move objects or people simply through sheer willpower, whether it be to swing a sword from half a mile away, or let a feather hover over his palm without dropping. He was the most powerful of the siblings, acted as the leader.

Brenna was the second eldest, and the first daughter. With the power of a Necromancer, she could speak to, bind, and even bring back the dead as slaves, unaware and soulless, rotting husks of who they once were. Because of this, she was the most feared - after all, it's one thing to see your child killed, but what about them being raised just moments later, determined to obey its Summoner and kill you?

Calhoun was a Multielemental, with power over the thirteen elements, and able to call up beings out of elements, to fight for, or defend, people, objects, or strongholds.

Melanie, the second youngest, was a Possessor, able to inhabit others' bodies and control them, or through the use of long and complicated enchantments, even to place willing subjects into anothers' body.

Lucretia was the final, and least feared, though she was particularly useful at spotting spies and saboteurs - with the gift of an Auramagi, she could see auras; like an Empath, she could detect emotions, lies and feelings of a person - but unlike them, she saw this as a hazy glow of various colours around the body, and could also manipulate these to affect a person's mood, strength of belief, energy levels, and sometimes even life- force.

The ritual that bestowed these abilities upon them was still being passed down by the descendants; the Fives' uncle, the King's brother, had also be bestowed, and had passed the knowledge down his own children, and down to theirs, right the way to modern times, and Draco Malfoy. While Malfoy the younger was an Empath, his father Lucius was an Earth Elemental - though extremely weak, and the power itself had almost disappeared from disuse.

These gifts rarely occurred in Muggles or Squibs (though there were proven instances of weak Seers and the occasional Dialector - speakers of any sentient beings' language without prior learning, though in the non-magic this was so weak that only one or two languages were instantly known, in which case Muggles passed it off as xenoglossy, or it only showed itself as a talent for picking up languages faster than most others.

In Wizards, (apart from those who had it bestowed upon them by a spell such as the Cyrin royal family, which was non-hereditary) only one in seven- hundred had even a weak hint of any ability, and only one in twelve-hundred had enough power to make any real use of it. The power occasionally cropped up in otherwise ordinary Wizards and Witches, like a magic-user born to a family of Muggles, but was usually hereditary, sometimes fading away or becoming stronger with each generation. Many abilities hadn't come about for over a millennia.

Rowena Ravenclaw was said to have been a Healer; Merlin (the more recent, Arthurian one) was recorded as a swallow Instamagus, someone who could become an Animagus without training (an ability that hadn't cropped up in six hundred years, and had almost certainly been wiped out of the gene pool), and the most recent case of a well-known figure being one of the gifted was Grindelwald, who had been a Movila, able to travel anywhere at will.

Abilities were rare. Abilities were respected. Abilities were feared. Most of all, abilities were damn useful. Except of course if it were the ability of a Past-Reader, and you wanted to protect yourself from a literally blood-thirsty daemon that was speeding towards you faster than a professional Quidditch player on the latest test broom.