A/N: Sowwie bout the disgustingly short chappie before! Hopefully this will make up for it ;) And Happy Holidays to you all!
Disclaimer: Meh... see Prologue already…
Chap. 6 – Reactions
Somewhere in England, at the Ministry of Magic, the magic detectors at the Auror's ward came screaming awake. Tops span, lights flashed, sirens blared and poor Timothy Blake, junior officer on duty jumped a foot into the air from the chair he was dozing on before crashing down in a painful heap on the cold tiled floor.
"Merlin's Big Toe Nail!" He squeakily swore. Clumsily trying to untangle his pretzeled body parts, he made his way to the emergency cabinet and with only a moment's hesitation, broke the glass and pushed down on the cute button nose of a rainbow coloured rabbit.
All across the country, aurors sleep talking in their beds, getting drunk in bars, doing shady things an auror really shouldn't be doing felt their wrist-watches flash searing hot. Quickly rolling out of bed, or dunking heads in rainwater barrels in the vain hopes of sobering, or high tailing in alarm, aurors of all different ranks and sizes apparated to head quarters in the defence department of the Ministry of Magic.
For an instant, pandemonium ruled as with disorienting popping sounds, bodies appeared out of nowhere to crash into one another and noise levels climaxed to an all time high as people tried, collectively, to find out just what in all blazes was going on.
"ENOUGH!" An amplified voice full of authority demanded. "SHUT YOUR TRAPS! ALL OF YOU!" Suddenly the room was filled with clicking sounds as auror after auror snapped their jaws shut.
"Alright then, who in all nine hells pressed Thumper's nose?" Pushing his way to the centre of the room, the man spoke again. Sleep was quickly fading from his good eye, while his magical eye darted around like a ping-pong ball between professional players as if to make up for the lack of attendance of its neighbour. Face riddled with gruesome scars, the infamous Alastor Moody thunked his way through the crowd parting the people as Moses had once the Red Sea. A few trainees new to the scene and not as intimidated as they well should be by the seasoned fighter were slow to give way and were rewarded with a solid stump of a leg crushing painfully into their not so solid feet. By the time Moody had advanced to his intended destination (the centre of the room if you would recall), more than a few startled yelps had sounded.
Timothy Blake, junior officer though he may be, was well aware of old Moody's reputation. He cautiously inched forward, halting at a good six feet away from the old auror and clearing his throat nervously, spoke.
"Err…that is… ahh….me!" He stuttered and finally gave in to the whole nerve-wrecking situation and lost all control of vocal abilities so that the last word of the disorganised sentence came out as a harsh shrill peep.
Mentally wincing, Moody stared down at the twitching young man, looking for the world as if he wished to bore a hole right through the poor quivering mess of a boy. He was not at all please to have his beauty sleep disrupted – and by God did he need some.
"Surely you have a solid, appropriate, respectable, justifiable reason for activating Thumper?" Brows rose, stretching his already mutilated face to take on a whole new meaning of ugliness.
"The… the detectors! They went… umm… they…" Poor old Tim made it only half way through his sentence before making the grave error of looking up and meeting the old auror's eyes. The piercing gaze (in more ways than one if you really think about it) was just too much, although personally most thought it was the face that did the job, and Timothy Blake fainted on the spot. His eyes sliding back and body crumpling into a disgraceful heap on the floor. This was soooooo not his night.
Sighing at the pathetic-ness of youth these days, Moody nudged at the pathetic heap at his feet. 'How absolutely pathetic. Really.' He thought, before turning to the rest of the crowd and began barking orders.
"Shacklebolt, Parkers check the detectors. Holland, Sheers, Baker, check the warding system. Rowding, Peters, rounds in the east wing and Valentine, McLaughlin, rounds in the west. Bones, Murakami run through the files and the rest of you stay here, shut up and don't move."
It wasn't long before the source of the emergency was detected. Kingsley Shacklebolt came bursting back, his flushed face and irregular breathing indicating that he had in fact sprinted all the way back from the detector area at the opposite end of the floor.
"Auror Moody, I think you should come and see this."
Albus Dumbledore had been having a delightful dream about dancing earmuffs, HAD being the operative word in that sentence. At precisely 4:07am, the headmaster was rudely awoken in his bed at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Normally such a disturbance would not have bothered him, after all he was the most powerful wizard on par with 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', (here the old man gave a silent snort – oh he really loved that one) and it was only natural that prissies such as the likes of the current Minister who shall at the moment remain nameless for Albus was raised a polite boy, would seek his advice for all things large ("Oh Albus! Do you think the Dementors would make good additions to the haunted house at the new theme park?") and small ("Oh Albus! Do you think this new purple cloak makes me look fat?").
However, the manner of awakening this time did alarm him. In fact it alarmed him so much that he did not even bother to mentally whine about being parted from his sweet little dancing earmuffs as he usually would have. Instead, the sky blue eyes hardened and pulling on a plain robe he set off at a brisk pace to his office.
"Dear me!" His mirror cried. "No swirls? No rainbows? No…. no… glitter?"
It questioned the Headmaster's retreating back, utterly horrified. Something must be very wrong indeed.
Upon reaching his destination, Albus found two equally tussled looking witch and wizard already parked in front of the gargoyle that so loyally guarded his office.
"Minerva." He acknowledged. "Severus."
"You felt it of course Albus." Professor McGonagall stated, pulling her night robes closer. Snape himself did not say anything, but merely glanced at the old man noting the lack of distasteful ornamentals in his strangely plain robes. He too was dressed only in his night robes, which were of course – black.
Dumbledore quickly ushered the two professors into his office, shooting Fawkes a quick greeting he settled himself into his nice plushy chair. For once he was glad he resorted to such indulgences, in times such as this, small favours were the only thing that kept him from stomping on pointy hats and declaring that he was now completely dark and intending on world domination with the help of house elves and sinfully delicious chocolate truffles.
For the moment, however, he leaned back into the soft cushions of his chair and nodded gravely to his companions. By now, both witch and wizard have taken their seats and worry lines etched their brows as they regarded the Headmaster, a man who was greatly respected by both parties, their eyes silently prodding him for answers that they so seek.
"Headmaster, that power surge…" Snape began to speak, smooth velvety voice underlined with confusion. "Such unbelievable power. I have never felt anything like it. Not even…not even from the Dark Lord himself. Nothing in this untamed, raw form."
"And it was obviously not in the vicinity of England." Professor McGonagall carried on. "My sensor abilities are not as strong, but it is undeniable that this magical outburst was from the general direction of Asia. China perhaps, or maybe coastal Japan. Even at such a distance, I felt it clearly. I shudder to think how much stronger that feeling would be if the source of the power was any closer. You don't think this has anything to do with…You-Know-Who do you?"
The old man ran a hand through his snow-white beard before shaking his head negative.
"No, I do not believe so. It was too different, there was no taint of corruption, no hate or wrongness that I have come to associate with Voldemort." At the name, the two adults in front of him repressed a shudder. "In fact it was not tainted with any feelings at all, not focussed in any way that I can deduct. Simply magic unleashed in is purest form, and for what purpose I cannot fathom. Whether this new player will be a threat or not I cannot tell you, but we do need to be on high alert from this point onwards of any irregularities, however insignificant."
At this point, Snape cleared his throat. "Headmaster, does the floating head of one Alastor Moody in your fireplace count as an irregularity?"
Settled back in bed once again, Albus Dumbledore found sleep to elude him. He was not a man easily troubled, but after the news his old friend Alastor Moody brought him and the feelings he himself had experienced he could not find it in himself to cease pondering.
"Albus, every single damn magic detector at the Auror's ward is broken! Merlin's unameables! Every single bloody one! Even the ancient Paeritz scope that we adapted from the core found in the pyramids during the expedition of Alexis the Paranoid. And you bloody well know that that thing was even able to withstand all the power surges picked up from your own bloody battle with Grindelwald. Broken! Complete shattered from overload! What in bloody blazes could do this?"
Evidently this news did not sit well with either of the other two occupants of his office as Snape leapt to his feet and promptly began to pace and Minerva sat with both hands held up to her stunned face looking as if she was considering slapping herself awake. Dumbledore himself had sat and absorbed this extra information, churning it over in his already overactive mind.
Now his mind was still churning and he was becoming paranoid. 'Dear Lords! I'm becoming Alastor!' Dumbledore decided there and then that such a case was completely unacceptable and since he was still alive, Hogwarts still in one piece and there was currently no news of a mad raving powerful lunatic going around slaughtering people, he was going back to his earmuffs and the rest can be dealt with at a later date. With that, Dumbledore clicked off his night lamp and settled into an uneasy rest.
Several thousand miles away in the small Amazon village of Joketsuzoku, elder Kuh Long blinked awake as an unknown wave of power swept through her. Instants later she was out of bed as shockwaves of some sort of impact forced the ground to roll beneath her feet. More nimble than it would have thought to be possible, the shrivelled old bag grabbed her wooden staff and pongoed her way towards the outskirts of the village where the night sky burned with an emerald flame.
Kuh Long was vaguely aware of when her great-grand daughter Xian Pu joined her in her pursuit, but such small details were forgotten when she came upon the object of the disturbance. A giant crater measuring at least 10 feet in radius replaced a portion of the spring she had visited that very morning, and at the centre was a small limp form huddled in a foetal position. Green light was still bleeding from the stilled body of the small child when she drew closer, now only a mere two feet away she could see that it was a boy. A very badly beaten boy with numerous cuts and bruises, a boy so pale and still he could have been mistaken for dead.
Kuh Long scanned the child and did a quick check for the vitals. The boy lived, but only barely. She heard a sharp intake of breath as her great granddaughter finally caught sight of the still boy, rapid footsteps spoke of Xian Pu's approach and she gingerly knelt beside the pale figure and hesitantly reached out to touch a raven lock of hair.
"Oh you poor poor thing," She murmured, and looking up with pleading eyes she voiced. "Great grandmother, he will be ok right? We must help him."
But Kuh Long was not listening, instead her gaze froze, fixed on the lightening shaped scar revealed when Xian Pu had brushed aside the boy's hair. The most respected elder and matriarch of the Joketsuzoku village stood stock still for what seemed like aeons, eyes never leaving the thin scar that stood out like a sore thumb against the paper white pallor of the boy's skin.
"Oh Albus, what have you done now?"
A/N: Well hope you guys liked that! We've just moved houses and besides the computer and bed, my new room stands absolutely empty! I've been too dead set in typing this up to worry about anything else – now that's dedication! Please R&R for more chapters!