CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Thursday morning saw the announcement of whether Harry's pitch of a Revision Club, with the help of Loreley, Orion, Artemis and Minerva, to Headmaster Dippet had succeeded. Harry and her friends had been anxiously awaiting the answer during breakfast, as had every other student who had heard of her idea and approved of it. Not even the letter from his mother could distract Orion from the nerves he felt. Fortunately, the children could all take a breather because the Headmaster had jovially announced the beginning of the Revision Club for all fifth and seventh years interested from the coming Monday. To Harry's delight, he also publicly announced list of official tutors: Minerva McGonagall for Transfigurations, Tessa Prewett for Astronomy, Ophelia Rowle for Care of Magical Creatures, Loreley Malfoy for Arithmancy, Orion Black and Heron Lestrange as joint Ancient Runes teachers, Edward Diggory for Charms, Harry Evans for History of Magic, Tom Riddle for Defence Against the Dark Arts, sixth year Ossian Gilbert from Hufflepuff was taking Muggle Studies on, Rachel Langley from Ravenclaw in sixth year was the Potions tutor, and finally the role of Herbology tutor went – to everyone's shock – to both Altair Nott and Rhona Percy. Not even Altair had expected that – indeed, he had choked on his pumpkin juice when he heard.
Someone had the audacity to laugh – Dolohov no doubt – but the offending person had been quickly silenced with glares from Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff House.
"Harry, why the hell am I a tutor as well?" Altair hissed in shock.
"I'll explain later," Harry promised.
The Headmaster continued, telling the school that one of the rooms on the seventh floor had been selected for the Revision Club and to see either Miss Evans, Miss Malfoy, Mr. Black, Miss Potter or Miss McGonagall for its location and that the Session Zero, as Harry had asked him to call it, would commence at five, so an hour before dinner. Everyone, from the younger ones to the older students, noticed the stark contrasts in the teachers' countenances as the Headmaster continued talking, this time making a request on behalf of Professor McCullagh, who was also in charge of the choir, for new Samhain chants.
Professor Griffith looked like he could barely sit still on his chair, while Professor McCullagh could not stop smiling. Professor Merrythought, though she was attempting to keep her countenance as stern as she could manage, did not look as stern as she normally did. Professor Babbling was reading while finishing her breakfast, looking vastly contented. Professor Bletchley seemed more annoyed at the essay he was marking than the announcements and Professor Slughorn seemed to be keeping an eye on Professor Dumbledore with a thunderous look that was rare in the Head of Slytherin House. Professor Vesper looked about ready to go back to bed and Professor Redferne had too gone back to his marking. The Divination professor had not shown up for breakfast that morning so it was impossible to say how they felt about their subject being left out of the Revision Club since no one asked for it. As for Professor Dumbledore, one would have thought someone had confiscated his favourite mismatching pair of socks the way he was sitting there almost akin to a sulking child.
Harry and Orion were smiling with satisfaction at this, Loreley was away with the fairies and Artemis and Minerva, surprisingly, were both looking at their Head of House with a look that could only be translated as vehement disappointment.
It was safe to say that the Gryffindors and Slytherins, especially, all wanted to know why in the name of Excalibur and Clarent their Transfigurations teacher looked like he had been put on the naughty step so as soon as the two usually rival Houses left for their first lesson together, they started to question the four they could interrogate. Loreley, along with the rest of the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, had Potions first so she had escaped momentarily.
"OK, Harry, spill," Altair stated bluntly as the group marched to their classroom. "What happened yesterday?"
Harry started cackling, as did Orion. Artemis grinned while Minerva looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. "Oh boy, do we have a story to tell!" Harry and Orion chorused.
-Flashback-
Harry, Orion, Loreley, Minerva and Artemis didn't need to say a password to the gargoyle as the Headmaster seemed to have sensed them outside and had ordered the gargoyle to stand aside. The five of them had been rather surprised to see that the Headmaster, who was looking rather amused and rather pleased with himself, with all four Heads of Houses there: Griffith, McCullagh, Slughorn and Dumbledore.
"Hey, guys, why do I have this strange feeling we have been sussed out?" Orion had commented out loud, causing the staff to smirk quite proudly. Yep, they had been sussed out.
"So, rumour has it the five of you have been up to something – again," the Headmaster commented jovially, "and this time it isn't anything nefarious, if the reports are indeed correct."
Harry cleared her throat. "No, sir. Given the fact both the fifth and seventh years' mock exams are coming up, and well … there has been mass panic. Octavius Weasley was talking about the subjects he struggled with when Ophelia started offering to tutor him. That reminded me of a secret Defence club my friends and I set up once, so the idea came to me to set up a Revision Club for the fifth and seventh years. I wanted to run it by you, sir. If it helps, Tom Riddle has already given me a list of interested parties in Slytherin."
This had made Professor Dumbledore frown a little.
"And we know interested parties in Gryffindor," Artemis added helpfully.
"Ravenclaw has professed interest too," Loreley put in.
"The issue is we haven't got any good acquaintances amongst the Badgers to know what Hufflepuff thinks," Orion continued. "But we hope they aren't averse to it."
"From what I hear amongst my Badgers, they are not," Professor Griffith assured as the Headmaster gestured for the students to take the seats he had just conjured. "Though they have been rather fearful to approach you. Mr. Diggory had been off a mind to try and find a private moment to tell you of his interest but the five of you are apparently difficult to get a hold off."
"Are we?" Harry asked a little weakly. "Oops."
"May I see the list you have?" the Headmaster asked kindly. Harry jumped to her feet in an instant and gave him the three leaves of parchment. The Headmaster flicked through them, with Professor Slughorn reading over one shoulder and Professor McCullagh reading over the other shoulder.
"Have you already given some thought to the tutors?" Dumbledore spoke up for the first time, clearly still not looking very happy.
"Yes, sir," Minerva spoke up, trying to reduce the possibility of a fall-out. "I will, in theory, be taking Transfigurations. Loreley wants to take Arithmancy, Orion has volunteered for Ancient Runes and naturally, Harry will be taking up History."
That made four out of five adults chuckle. Dumbledore still did not look happy. "I do not think this is a wise notion."
"Why ever not?" Slughorn asked coolly, raising an eyebrow. "We wish for the students to do well, do we not?"
"I for one would not mind to see if this Revision Club will raise their grades," Professor Griffith agreed, his usually jolly countenance contorting into one that was the most serious Harry had seen so far. "We cannot afford the abysmal marks some of our previous seventh and fifth years achieved! Some of their marks have really gone downhill, especially the fifth years. Some of them passed their end of year exams by the skin of their teeth in the fourth year! If they want to help each other succeed, I say let them!"
"Hear, hear," McCullagh agreed firmly. "Albus, you cannot possibly think there is anything sinister to a club that includes every fifth year and seventh year from every House?"
"Who else will be teaching?" Dumbledore demanded, ignoring his colleague.
Harry had promptly given Ophelia, Lestrange and Tom Riddle's names. When he heard the latter, Dumbledore's twinkle had faded entirely from his eyes.
Fortunately, Slughorn had seen the danger too and put a stopper to any accusations the Head of Gryffindor was about to fling out. "No, no, NO, Albus, I know what you are thinking! Don't you dare start. I have had it with you accusing my Snakes for the most ridiculous reasons! It is a Revision Club, not military training."
"Horace-"
"Not a word from you Albus!" Dippet had stated sharply. He turned back to the group. "You would welcome Hufflepuff tutors if some came forward?"
"Of course," Harry answered immediately, her friends nodding enthusiastically. Professor Griffith beamed at this.
"Good. Then I have a proposal to make," the Headmaster's eyes glinted mischievously. "A deal, if you'd like."
-Flashback cut short-
"What kind of deal?!" the Gryffindors chorused eagerly.
"She was about to say, you numpties!" Artemis rolled her eyes.
-Flashback continued-
Harry had cocked her head to one side. "What kind of deal, sir?"
"I will approve your Revision Club if you, and Mr. Black, commentate for the rest of the Quidditch season," the Headmaster responded jovially, causing Orion to pale quite a bit.
Orion had looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Everyone knew that he was petrified of what his father would think, yet Dippet was holding the Revision Club hostage. Orion was forced to choose between the Club and his pride.
"OK," Orion had squeaked out after about two minutes of silence, which had felt like an eternity.
"Lovely! Let's discuss the tutors further, shall we?"
-Flashback ends for real-
"So why am I a tutor?" Altair wondered.
Harry smiled a little. "The Headmaster and the Heads of House wanted a diverse array of tutors and well, I thought since you have come leaps and bounds in Herbology it would be good for you to try your hand at teaching the information. You're also a natural orator – you know how to talk well and tell a story, and make things interesting so I thought … why not? Besides you have Percy to help you with it so you're not alone. Plus, Professor Griffith backed you emphatically."
Altair's countenance morphed from one that was worried to surprise to slightly embarrassed but pleased as he soaked in her explanation. "I see. Thank you, Harry."
Harry grinned. "No problem."
By now, the group had reached the Transfigurations classroom. The Gryffindors had been rather nonplussed at how devious the Headmaster had been yet thankful Orion had set his Black pride aside for the 'greater good' of the Club. The Slytherins had been more quietly impressed at the fact the other Heads of Houses and the Headmaster had effectively ruled Dumbledore's opinion null and void. Which, naturally, did not sit well with the man in question.
It was very obvious from the moment the students stepped into class because Dumbledore was dressed in inky dark robes with dog patterns on them and was glowering at anyone wearing the remotest tinge of green as though their existence personally offended him. Harry and Orion were chief amongst the people receiving the stink eye, but the frequency of them receiving one was mitigated by the presence of Minerva and Artemis next to them.
Things did not improve over time. The argument that ensued between Dumbledore and Riddle over Conjuring Spells, which was their topic of the day, was more heated than before and Dumbledore actually had taken fifteen points from Slytherin because he didn't like Riddle's 'cheek'. What Riddle had done was, politely point out that there was no inherent Darkness or Light to Conjuration. As if matters couldn't get any worse, Dumbledore had taken another five points from Altair for sneezing, five points from Arcturus for slouching of all things, three points from Malfoy for sharpening his quill and then four points from Mulciber for conjuring a lamp and making it sing.
Harry felt her blood boil and the silver lightning crackle dangerously in her hands but before she could say or do anything, Minerva had gripped her arm quite firmly and shook her head in warning. Harry forced herself to focus on the life forces around her to try and clear her mind of her growing anger.
Unfortunately, this had not gone unnoticed.
"Miss Evans, quit daydreaming! Five points from Slytherin."
Oh no. With that, Dumbledore had unlocked Harry's Angry Petty Mode.
Harry's eyes flew open; blue eyes met silver. Without waving her wand or uttering a word, Harry conjured up stunning black, green and silver butterflies that began to fly around the room, heading straight for some of the conjured bouquets around the class, such as the ones in front of Druella and Walburga. Almost as soon as the butterflies landed on the flowers, they started glowing the same colour as Soul Fire, making the flowers glow bright silver as well. Once the light had subsided, the flowers all looked as though they had been carved out of crystal, with the immobile butterflies, also crystalline, on top. The shocked students who were responsible for conjuring the flowers picked up one of their plants, checking to see if the crystal was real.
Lo and behold, it was. Harry smirked to herself; all that extra training was indeed paying off!
"Beautiful," someone had voiced out loud and no one, not even Dolohov, disagreed.
"Better, sir?" Harry asked politely, her unblinking gaze still on her Transfigurations professor.
"Five points for needlessly showing off," was Dumbledore's answer.
"You have got to be joking!" Septimus Weasley exploded. "Forgive me, sir, but that is ridiculous. She conjured those butterflies perfectly – at least give her points for that."
Dumbledore's jaw almost clenched but he was forced to relax when he saw that all of his Lions were regarding him rather coldly. "Tone, Mr. Weasley," he stated warningly before he looked at the quietly defiant expression of Harry Evans. "Three points to Slytherin."
Hey, Tosti. Am I allowed to ignite souls that are still in their bodies? Harry growled.
The god of death wasted no time in answering. Erm … it's not ideal. Why, what has happened … please tell me Tom Riddle has not turned your hair pink in revenge for what you have done to him and his friends?
Worse. Dumbledore is being a first class-
Epppupppup, no swearing!
-cow pat,
Harry finished.
Better. But I would warn you that using Soul Magic in front of your Transfigurations teacher with a skewed moral compass is not ideal, let alone on him!
Fair enough,
Harry grumbled. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had collected their mouths off the floor by now and tried not to antagonise Dumbledore further for the rest of the lesson. It worked well enough, but by the end of the lesson it had resulted in Professor McCullagh receiving some very vexed students, to the point she actually refused to start the lesson until someone explained to her why the Gryffindors and Slytherins looked set to conspire to commit murder.
"Professor Dumbledore was at it again! He has managed to last four years without being needlessly petty and now this. I am not kidding, Professor, it was worse than normal! He actually deducted points because Nott had the audacity to sneeze. I mean, Merlin, who decided to steal his favourite pair of slippers this morning?" Druella immediately went into a tirade.
"He took points for slouching!" the Weasley twins added. "And breathing!"
"Not quite that," Minerva amended, "but close to it."
"Riddle answered a question and lost fifteen points for it," Artemis continued. "That hasn't happened in years!"
"Professor Dumbledore took ten points from Harry for daydreaming and 'needlessly showing off'," Orion added, steam almost coming out of his ears. "I mean he is lucky he didn't get zapped by her again!"
"Now, now, Mr. Black," Professor McCullagh soothed with a slight warning tone. "That is enough."
"He is not exaggerating!" the Lions and Snakes protested in perfect unison.
The Charms professor's eyebrows raised even further. "Professor Dumbledore said Miss Evans was 'needlessly showing off'? What did he mean? What happened?"
The thirty-odd seventeen-year-olds immediately all launched into the story together, with Harry Evans admitting she had been extremely petty but felt she had been in the right to do so. Once the angry seventh years had finished, Professor McCullagh's face had darkened in an instant. "I see. Well, I promise you all I will have a word with Professor Dumbledore later but for now I need all of you to try and focus on these enchantments we will be covering today. You will need one hundred percent focus, OK? Would you let go of your frustration just for my lesson?"
The Slytherins and Gryffindors were happy to oblige, despite knowing very little was likely to come from McCullagh's word with Dumbledore. However, Loreley Malfoy and some lucky Divination students were soon shown otherwise. The following period was not only a free period for some of the students, but for both Kara McCullagh and Albus Dumbledore as well.
Kara McCullagh had set towards the staff room on the ground floor with determination. She had been a student at Hogwarts herself during the 1920s and had seen for herself how prejudiced Albus Dumbledore could be, especially to Slytherins, and remembered how powerless she felt when points were taken for the most stupid of reasons. Well, Kara had authority now, and it was about time she used it. She was so focused on her goal that she ignored the greeting of the two gargoyle statues outside the staff room.
"Well, that was rude!" one sniffed indignantly.
"Must have had a difficult lesson," the other commented placatingly.
When Kara entered the room, she saw that Cuthbert Binns was floating in his favourite chair in front of the fire, sleeping. Aneurin Griffith and Lyra Vesper were exchanging 'students giving funny answers to questions', either laughing or borderline crying from despair. Kara had arrived before Albus had and she prepared herself to have some words with him. She didn't need to wait too long before the Head of Gryffindor House breezed in, looking infuriated.
"Tough class, Albus?" Kara asked almost immediately in her best faux-sweet tone that she could manage, stirring sugar into her tea.
"You could say that. The Slytherins are being more impertinent than normal," Albus answered crisply as he took his favourite flowery cup and began pouring himself a cup of tea. "You should have noticed that yourself, Kara. You had the seventh years in your Charms class just now."
"On the contrary, I noticed nothing in their behaviour that could be considered highly impertinent," Kara contradicted easily. "What I did notice was that my Gryffindors and Slytherins looked set to Charm their tables and chairs to start marching towards your classroom and barricade it out of sheer pettiness. Care to explain?"
Albus blinked at her, clearly trying to feign ignorance. "The children are objecting to being disciplined. You should not believe everything they say."
"Considering I have eyes and ears that tell me something differently and the fact that they are all telling the same story, I am inclined to believe them," Kara retorted crisply, folding her arms. "You deducted five points from Altair Nott because he sneezed! True, or false?"
"Excuse me?!" Aneurin and Lyra chorused, almost dropping their essays in an instant.
Albus regarded the Head of Ravenclaw coolly. "True. The spells we were working on needed everyone to remain focused and not distract each other-"
"One sneeze is not a distraction!" Lyra protested.
Kara continued. "You took another five points because a student was not sitting up straight for a moment."
Albus regarded her over his half-moon spectacles. "Slouching is unacceptable in the classroom, you know this."
"True, but it is not worth taking five measly points over. But apparently they couldn't do anything right today, even when it was asked of them. They told me you took fifteen points from Tom Riddle for making a point when you invited him too!"
Albus pursed his lips. "It was back-chat, Kara. Plain and simple."
The Charms professor could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Back-chat? You have been debating Tom Riddle for years! You haven't taken this many points since their second year. They have another complaint: Harry Evans conjured butterflies and did some amazing Charm work from what I heard and you took ten points from her for daydreaming and 'needlessly showing off'!"
"Because that is what it was," the Transfigurations professor retorted almost petulantly. "And Miss Evans was spacing out-"
"And you didn't think to ask her if it was her Fainting Sickness?!" Kara exploded, causing Albus to pale. Clearly he had forgotten that it was even a possibility.
"It sounds to me like Miss Evans was acting out just to make a point," Aneurin piped up, raising an eyebrow. "I have no idea what she did, but I do feel like the kids may have a point. You have not been this bad with the Slytherins in a while! Ever since yesterday, where you actively tried to stop students from helping each other, you have been almost unbearable, Albus. You better hope Horace is in a forgiving mood if and when his Snakes tell him what has been going because I swear if I get crying Badgers coming to me about your behaviour-"
"Kids, the teachers are busy!" they heard one of the gargoyles state crisply outside.
It was at this moment that there was a fateful knock at the door. Cuthbert floated to the door and used his ghostly powers to open the door and in came some very distraught first year Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins. More than a few of them had bloodshot eyes from crying. They took a step towards Kara and Aneurin but, when they saw their Transfigurations teacher, the group bolted back out of the door, utterly terrified. It was safe to say that Albus paled considerably when a thunderous look spread onto the countenances of the Heads of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"
The Head of Gryffindor House had to endure walking around with a ridiculous hairstyle and a normal tweed suit that he used to wear twenty years ago for the rest of the day, forced to put up with the guffaws and side-splitting laughter from the children aged eleven all the way to seventeen. To make matters worse, someone had broken into his classroom and had enchanted some of his pots and cupboards to start singing sea shanties the moment he opened up his mouth.
It had indeed been a source of great embarrassment that when he momentarily forgot the Charm on his property and tried to scold his fifth year Hufflepuff and Slytherin class, the furniture around the room burst out into song that could be heard from one end of the corridor to the other. For the rest of the day, the fifth year Badgers and Snakes were happily singing the song.
# There once was a ship that put to sea,
And the name of that ship was Billy O'Tea,
The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down,
Blow, me bully boys, blow,
Soon may the Wellerman come,
To bring us sugar and tea and rum,
One day when the tonguin' is done,
We'll take our leave and go! #
Despite his best efforts, Dumbledore could not dispel his furniture and, even with revelation spells, had no evidence of one person being responsible for it.
#######################
Aside from the piffle with Dumbledore and enchanting his classroom as revenge, Harry had a relatively quiet Thursday, spending time in the archives, talking business with Orion and Loreley and helping her friends study. Her wound was also getting better; there was not a lot of purple left in the Lichtenburg scar and War had remarked with relief that Harry would only need to wear bandages for three more days at worst. Moving her arm was getting more bearable too and considering Walburga was not going to relent and allow Harry to skip on a shopping trip overmorrow, Harry was rather happy that she no longer didn't want to scream if she tried to lift her arm.
As for training, Harry practised in her dorm, behind her curtains and when she was sure the girls were all in the Realm of Hypnos. She had put some Silencing Charms and privacy wards around her bed just to make sure that the souls and the Soul Fire didn't wake them up by accident. She was rather pleased that she had managed to get good sized balls of Soul Fire; clearly the cheetah, lion and crocodile had a little bit more power than the arctic fox had. Harry practised her Animancy on the snake sculptures around the room, giggling to herself when the gold and silver snakes started remarking despondently that they suddenly felt very warm.
As for her scythe, Harry finally had an idea of what to do with it, thanks to Athenaïs. Her young Gargouille had insisted Harry pick up her book on Old Magic belonging to the aes sídhe and insisted Harry use some runes that looked like a combination of Ogham and Pictish script. She had no idea why, but it seemed Athenaïs instinctively knew what that scythe needed.
It made Harry quietly wonder just what skills the familiar of a Master or Mistress of Death had, but she did as she was told, carving the runes into the blade of the scythe with her wand, perhaps slightly unaware of the just the kind of weapon she was forging. To add to the mystery of the scythe's function, once Harry had finished carving, Athenaïs had approached the blade. Her necklace glowed an eerie pink as did the young dragon's onyx eyes and then the runes followed suit.
Harry watched in surprise. "Athenaïs … what have you done?"
The young dragon chirped mystically, looking very pleased with herself. 'I helped, of course', Harry translated for herself.
She was about to ask how Athenaïs had helped precisely, when Harry heard her two-way journal hum for the first time in a long while. Harry quickly picked it up from her desk and flipped it open.
Your familiar has leant her magic to whatever you have just enchanted, my dear.
Melinoë?
Indeed! It seems your little dragon has been training on her own and has just used some of her own new powers as Familiar of the Mistress to boost whatever you have done.
How do you know?
Enough experience. There is a reason I despised Lara, Antioch's familiar. Her powers centred around the dead and seeing the dead. Sometimes summoning the dead. It was annoying to have some of my ghosts just randomly disappear because Lara had summoned them!
Harry blanched and looked at Athenaïs, who had her head cocked at Harry. So what kind of powers does Athenaïs have?
I have a hunch, but we will test it tomorrow.
Helpful, Harry sighed.
I am the Goddess of Ghosts, not the Moirai. Plus, you have to admit it is not fun to have a mystery solved immediately.
Sometimes it is. Night, Melinoë.
Sweet dreams!
Harry closed the two-way journal and carefully put her scythe back into her trunk before allowing Hypnos to lead her down into the Realm, Athenaïs curled up next to her, for once. Sweet dreams, her godly friend had said – the Moirai had a different plan in mind. Harry was stuck on Psychopomp Sorting duty for the remainder of her night's sleep.
####################
Orion found it very difficult to get to sleep that evening, for one reason or the other. He partly blamed the letter his mother had sent him about his father looking forward to making Harry's acquaintance after his wife's glowing report of the mysterious girl Lord Black had been hearing about from rumours circulating in pureblood circles. But, Orion also knew that the Boggart had still done a number upon him. Orion, despite appearances, was rather private when it came down to truly personal feelings, such as his fears, and having to face his greatest fear in front of every single seventh year … well, it had been a shock to the system.
At least Harry and Walburga had not treated him differently, though he did now see a tinge of sadness in their eyes now and again. What surprised Orion the most, was that no one had made a comment about it to him directly. Then again, the fears of the entire year group was now known to everyone – they were all on equal footing.
After rolling over to his right side for the umpteenth time, Orion sighed with frustration and decided to go and get himself a glass of water. Maybe that would help. The Heir to the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black kicked his duvet off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. Orion got up and headed for the bathroom until he caught sight of something unusual in his peripheral vision.
Abraxas Malfoy was sitting at the window at the other end of the dorm, looking out into the depths of the Black Lake, clearly also unable to sleep. Orion contemplated asking what the matter was but decided against it and marched on to the bathroom to get his glass of water, but instead of filling one cup, Orion filled two.
Against his better judgement, perhaps, Orion took the two glasses and quietly padded over to where Malfoy was sitting pensively, looking as though he had looked straight into the depths of Avalon itself. Orion did not dare cough in case it woke the sleeping dragons that were Dolohov and Nott – each had a very nasty temper if woken too early – and instead gave Malfoy a slight nudge.
The other boy almost jumped three feet into the air and soon Orion had a wand directed at him. Heir Black tried to raise his hands in surrender, but they were rather full with the glasses. "Sorry!" he whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"What do you want, Black?" Malfoy hissed, not lowering his wand.
Orion smiled meekly, ignoring the wand that was being pointed in his face, and held out one of the glasses of water. "Here. I was getting water anyway and I thought you could use some too."
Malfoy eyed the glass suspiciously for a moment. "Why? We are not friends."
"I know, but I don't need to be your friend to show kindness," Orion answered simply, with a small shrug.
Malfoy snorted as he lowered his wand. "You have been hanging around Peverell for too long!" To Orion's surprise, he added, "but perhaps that is a good thing."
Orion did not dare question Malfoy on what he meant as the boy finally took the glass of water from Heir Black and took a large swig from the glass. Orion smiled smally as he turned around and walked back to his four-poster. Malfoy, unbeknownst to Orion, had watched his retreating figure closely. "Black."
Orion turned sharply, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yes?"
"Thank you," Malfoy managed to answer, though his pride didn't like it. "For the water."
Orion grinned. "You're welcome. Sleep well, Malfoy."
"Not bloody likely," Orion heard Malfoy mutter before he closed his curtains, took a swig of water and once more tried to get to sleep himself.
Abraxas was still awake and sitting on the window seat by the time Orion had gone to sleep. He took another gulp of water, as he replayed some of the visions that had bombarded his head. He had Seen creatures a whole lot like his Patronus, behemoths ruling a world where humans did not even exist, witches and wizards serving Muggle rulers in Ancient times; and Viking warriors struggling to defeat the natives of North America, even with both sides using powerful magic. But that was not what had woken Abraxas in a state of shock; those visions he could tolerate quite well as they were a more than distant past.
He had Seen a savage attack by Muggle children on a young girl with the most extraordinary golden curls Abraxas had ever seen. Her eyes had been as icy blue as Dumbledore's … Ariana, her name had been. Following that, Abraxas had Seen something he wished he hadn't: how the children and adults at Wools' Orphanage had treated Tom Riddle. Shutting him in cramp spaces, beatings, vicious exorcisms – Abraxas lost count of the cruel deeds done to the young child. What had been the icing on the cake … Abraxas Saw how a hooded figure with a bony-looking wand had approached a small house.
Many of the details had been fuzzy, but inside the house had been a small family: a father, a mother and their young daughter. The father had curly messy hair, like the Lady Regnant of House Peverell, the mother – red hair and startling green eyes. Hera Peverell's eyes. Abraxas had watched in horror from the corner of the living room as the woman, who could have been no older than twenty-one, fled up the stairs with her child.
The words he heard still rang in Abraxas' head.
"Lily, he's here! Take Hera and run! I'll hold him off!"
"Not Hera … please! Mercy! Not my daughter… take me instead."
"Stand aside, stupid girl!"
"NO!"
"STAND ASIDE!"
"NO!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
It was the bright green light of the Killing Curse hitting the forehead of the infant Hera Peverell, who had stared down her attacker without so much as blinking, that had woken Abraxas in a cold sweat. He still could not get that sight out of his head.
The Dark Lord attacked my family on Samhain … happy Samhain, little Harry … my literal bogeyman …
Abraxas had been half tempted to take his potion again after what he had seen, but at the same time witnessing what had happened to Hera's family … it was a golden opportunity to try and understand this strange witch. Plus, his mother was pleased he was no longer taking the potion. He could not disappoint her again. All the Malfoy Heir knew for certain was that he had many more sleepless nights ahead of him.
Forcing himself to pluck up some courage, Abraxas stood up and trudged back to his bed, praying to whoever would listen that he didn't see any more visions for the rest of the night.
Up in Ravenclaw Tower, his sister Loreley was sitting on the window seat of her dormitory, unable to sleep either, looking eerily towards the Black Lake where she estimated the dormitories were located. Her brother had finally stopped taking that damn potion but Loreley knew that whatever he had seen had caused him no certain amount of distress.
She did not need to be a Seer to know what – well, who – those visions likely had shown him. Loreley only hoped and prayed that Abraxas would choose the correct path with the knowledge he now held.
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The last thing King Ragnok expected to happen on a very late Thursday evening, when he was about to retire for the night, was there to be a rather frantic sounding knock on the door of his office. He frowned in slight annoyance, stopping with the last of his filing. "Yes?"
"Forgive me, Your Grace, I know it is late but there are two Aurors and two Unspeakables here to see you," Rosberg answered from the other side of the door. "They claim it is a matter of paramount importance."
The goblin king's brow furrowed further. "Did they say what it concerned?"
"No, Your Grace. It is for your ears only, they say," Rosberg responded, sounding very put out.
King Ragnok was very tempted to tell these wand-wielders to sod off and try again tomorrow, but there was a funny feeling in his gut that told him that doing so would be folly. It usually meant that the Aurors and Unspeakables were facing something even they could not deal with.
"Show them in!" King Ragnok called, maybe against his better judgement.
The door opened and three men and a woman walked briskly into his office. The King recognised at least two of them: Alphard Black, a relatively novice Auror, and Unspeakable Julius Rookwood, who had gone into the family business after stopping with Cursebreaking for Gringotts. The other two Ragnok knew only by their reputations: Auror Hecuba Potter and Unspeakable Clement Montague, both of whom had quite the record for catching Dark wizards and dealing with … liabilities inside their Department. If these two were here, Ragnok knew something particular was afoot.
Rosberg shutting the door was thus made far more ominous than it should have been and the King wasted no time in setting up Silencing Charms and privacy wards around his office. "So, how may Gringotts be off assistance?" he asked civilly once he was done.
"Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace, but it could not wait," Auror Potter began. "It seems someone well-versed in the dangerous and relatively new branch of Time Magic has been experimenting with his or her magic."
The King's heart skipped a beat. "Whatever do you mean?"
Unspeakable Rookwood revealed a box he had been carrying under his arm. As he did so, Unspeakable Montague spoke up. "We will deny ever telling you this should any vulture from the Prophet claim to have gotten this information from you, but recently the Department of Mysteries has been conducting experiments with Time Magic to create a device that, could in theory, send someone back in time for more than for a few hours but it seems … something in their calculations or spell has gone badly wrong."
"In what way?" the goblin king growled.
The wand-wielders exchanged an apprehensive and slightly argumentative look with each other before Unspeakable Montague waved his wand over the box. The wood fell back onto the desk, revealing a glass dome around a strange looking device. It looked like a Time Turner, except that it was more in the shape of a very odd compass with odd pointers, different layers and the dust of the Time Turner swirling around in those different layers. Ragnok had never seen anything like it.
"I still do not see how this is Gringotts' concern," he stated candidly.
"Well," Alphard Black cleared his throat. "The thing … seems to have taken a life of its own."
Ragnok's cheeks began to lose its colour. "Excuse me?"
"A week ago, the creator of this Time-Turning compass was attempting to make improvements to it," Unspeakable Montague continued. "We cannot go into details with you for obvious reasons but the crux of the matter is this: something changed in the compass and … the creator started making absurd claims that the compass … was talking to him."
Ragnok's already wide eyes almost bugged out as he stared at the device inside the enchanted glass dome.
"Naturally, no one took the creator at his word," Auror Potter continued, "that is until today when … he started muttering about 'settling old scores' and 'amending the mistakes of the past' before collapsing into a fit and having to be brought straight to St. Mungo's."
The goblin king was by this point gaping unabashedly.
"None of our superiors want to touch this thing," Unspeakable Rookwood's voice sounded abnormally loud in the ominous silence that had descended on the people. "They all wish to wash their hands off the gentleman in question and off his abomination. But we know that this thing has to be dealt with somehow and … well, we read the papers and we hear the rumours, of course. Your talented new Cursebreaker; the one who freed two unknown men from a portrait. We just thought – she may know what to do."
"She is still a seventeen-year-old Hogwarts student!" King Ragnok pointed out. "We sent her assignments, yes to test her, but also because there was no one else willing to take the tasks. The girl in question has exams coming up and has had enough excitement for a while! This thing," he gestured towards the Time compass, "is beyond dangerous!"
"We would never dare to presume to tell Your Grace what to do," Auror Potter reassured. "However, given the talents she has – who ever she is – there may be a chance that she does know what to do with it."
"Please, Your Grace, at least consider it," Unspeakable Montague added, eyes displaying no certain degree of desperation. "We have no one else to turn to."
The goblin king's jaw clenched and he glared at the wand-wielders in front of him. "I will think about it," he answered through clenched teeth.
"That is all we ask," Auror Black replied while the other three sighed with relief. "Thank you, Your Grace."
The four wand-wielders bowed to him before leaving quite quickly, no doubt eager to escape from the cursed compass they had been forced to bear. They left the King glaring at the device with malice, fear dancing in his eyes.
King Ragnok was not a fool; he knew there were unspoken dangers of putting such an instrument into the hands of anyone, much less a seventeen-year-old Traveller who appeared to be homesick! This was not a decision that could be made lightly, or on his own.
"Rosberg!"
Rosberg poked his head around the door almost immediately. "Your Grace?"
"Is Rollo still in the building?"
Rosberg frowned. "No, he left two hours ago. Goldheart's guards have reported he immediately went to bed. Why?"
"Fetch him here – now! Griphook as well."
Rosberg looked absolutely flabbergasted but saw the worry and terror in his king's countenance, thus did not dare to contemplate disobeying at all. But it was safe to say that fetching Griphook had been a mission in itself because the goblin was known for throwing nasty curses and shoes at anyone who had the temerity to disturb his sleep. Rosberg had prepared for that eventuality by taking two of Goldheart's night duty guards with him, both of whom bore the brunt of Griphook's nasty temper tantrum. Rosberg promised his guards to buy their coffee and breakfast as a thank you, which lessened the reluctance of the guards.
Fortunately for everyone involved, Rollo was far easier to fetch, who got out of bed, groggily and still very much sleepy but without much complaint. It was safe to say that both Rollo and Griphook were shot awake by the reason why the King had decided to summon them at such an ungodly hour.
Once Rosberg and the guards had left, Ragnok launched into the story told to him by the Aurors and Unspeakables about the Time-turning compass and its creator who was now in St. Mungo's after apparently losing his mind. By the time the King had ended, Rollo and Griphook had to scramble to pick their mouths up from the floor.
"We cannot send that to the Lady Peverell!" Rollo immediately started protesting. "It is just too dangerous – I get that every assignment we sent her was on some level dangerous but this is a whole other level. She lost her friends and family for Merlin's sake! What if temptation strikes to try and get them back?"
Griphook and the King exchanged a look before Griphook sighed. "Normally I would be in full agreement, Mr. Rowle, but at the same time … this is also something to write about to the Dark Lord. Have you had any more communications from them?"
"Just telegrams informing me of 'visitations' and 'dinner dates'," Rollo responded immediately.
"What are they?" the King asked without missing a beat.
"'Visitations' is the code word for visiting potential allies and turn-coats," Rollo clarified. "'Dinner dates' refers to Rosier, Goldstein or Barebone being sent on raids to kidnap important targets."
Griphook scoffed, laughing shortly. "That man really is bonkers. But the point is, the Dark Lord may be concentrating on his other missions at present, but he has not forgotten you or the Silver Dragon or his little favourite Cursebreaker. If you can tell him something that will keep his interest, the deception will hold firmer than it is at present."
"But do we actually send this accursed thing to the Lady Peverell?" Rollo wanted to know.
"Eventually," the King decided. "For now, you will tell the Dark Lord Aurors came to Gringotts with a possible new assignment but it has yet to be determined who it will be sent to. With any luck, he will order you to ensure it goes to the Lady Peverell, which you will do."
Rollo suddenly felt rather nauseous. "I still think it is too dangerous."
"We all do," Griphook reassured coolly. "But at present – we do not have much choice in the matter. And considering the sensitivity of this compass … I fear we will have to order Lady Peverell to work under the conditions of Gringotts Statute 611 D."
Rollo looked set to faint. "A gag order?! You want her to deal with a dangerous artefact that can manipulate time, and get no help?!"
"If the Auror Department and the Department of Mysteries catch wind of what their employees have done behind their back, we will be facing just as much of a piffle as we did in 1895, maybe even more," the King stated, looking utterly resigned. "We cannot risk it."
"You are proposing to send a dangerous magical artefact to a young witch who is constantly surrounded by other nosy children, you want to gag her and then you think someone won't find out," Rollo argued, eyes flaring slightly. "Your Grace, with all due respect, Albus Dumbledore still stalks the halls of Hogwarts – it is the last place you should be sending this thing to!"
"And what if this news secures another day of assurance that nothing has happened to your people still trapped at Nurmengard?" Griphook argued back. "Does the Dark Lord ever send you evidence that he has kept his word?"
Rollo swallowed and nodded slowly. "He … sends me pictures of them. Awake, asleep, eating – he even dates them," Rollo laughed mirthlessly. "He even writes jokes and little stories on the back of them as though he were sending holiday photos!"
"Gleipnir," the King cursed under his breath.
Griphook too looked aghast at this knowledge but quickly composed himself. "You want to keep your people alive – that is why you turned. Now, make sure that your betrayal does not cost you your life!"
"By potentially putting a seventeen-year-old Lady Regnant into the hospital?" Rollo shot back. "You want me to sacrifice the girl, for whom I came clean in the first place?"
"I think you severely underestimate her," Griphook folded his arms. "I trust that she will get the job done and will likely survive the encounter without being put into the hospital."
"Oh, that's comforting," Rollo retorted sarcastically.
"Enough!" the King snapped when he saw Griphook ready to make a comeback. He looked to Rollo. "You will write to the Dark Lord, and then you will call a meeting with the rest of the Cursebreakers tomorrow to make sure nothing looks and seems untoward. You stick to protocol. If it is decided this device goes to Lady Peverell … you will send it to her on Monday. We will buy her as much time as she needs because," he swallowed, looking extremely guilty, "something tells me she is going to need as much rest as possible."
"Yes, Your Grace." Rollo did not look happy about this, but it was the best he was going to get. He bowed to the King before leaving to send the dreaded message.
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The Revision Club is a go, Dumbledore has apparently reverted back to some very bad habits, and Athenaïs' powers are beginning to reveal themselves to Harry! Not to mention Abraxas' visions have returned with gusto – how will his relationship with his sister and the Lady Regnant be affected? What will he do with his knowledge? What will happen to the strange compass? You will have to stay tuned to find out!
As usual, the world and characters belong to JK Rowling and the Merlin mythos I use belongs to the BBC's Adventures of Merlin. The sea shanty is the Wellerman, which is a song from New Zealand written in 1860-70. My favourite version of it is sung by Nathan Evans. You should hear it on YouTube.
Orion: I really can't wait to see more of Athenaïs' powers!
Altair: I hope I don't screw up tutoring – and what the heck has happened to that scythe?
Indeed! Interesting times are ahead. See you guys in the next chapter!
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