Anima/Animus
Wednesday, 24 November, 2004
The discomfort was unbearable as Hermione roused from what felt like death itself. The combination of searing hot flashes and clammy chills coated her skin and made her want to scratch at every surface from sheer irritation. The shivers did not help; her body rocked back and forth like a ship at the mercy of vicious tempestuous winds.
She pried her heavy lids apart and light flooded in, orange and glittering. She could faintly see the stars, silver and gold and so close to her. When Hermione released a low groan, the cacophony of raucous whooping and laughter made her curl up in a ball as the sound aggravated the delirious pain she was in.
"Who had six?"
"I did."
"Non, you silly liar, Pollux. I did!"
Hermione glanced toward the sound, toward the stars that peered down at her against the amber and navy sky. As Hermione blinked the murk and haze from her eyes, she slowly realised that they weren't stars at all, but the glittering faces of the Circle members. Some were beaming, others appeared to be handing items from their pockets toward a petite rose-faced girl who bounced with excitement while the heavy coins clinked in her hands.
"How did you know, Daph? No one's ever been there for under 9. Did Castor clue you in?"
"'ow dare you question me? Zee girl looked qualified, zat is all."
"What a load of bollocks—"
" Ta gueule! Bollocks? Non, you are just jealous."
"Alright, alright, everyone! That's enough."
Hermione tried to sit up but malaise persisted like cold honey clinging to her veins.
"Six—?" Hermione tried to speak. Her words came out as a wheeze and her hand flew to her throat, which burned with a fury.
"Drink! Drink, my dear."
She recognized the voice as Sage's. She forced herself to sit upright when she saw the shining metal chalice being shoved in her direction. It was filled with a clear fluid. Mercy, water!
Hermione graciously and eagerly took the cup and drank its entire contents. Her throat immediately felt better, its rawness soothed away with much needed hydration.
"I was out for six hours?" Hermione asked, still a bit groggy.
"Six years," a Circle member responded.
Two or so others howled with laughter as Hermione's stomach sank.
"Shut up, Cas, you'll give the poor girl a heart attack," another Circle member said.
"No, no, not six years!" Sage chuckled. "Six minutes , my dear!"
" What? " she said.
Somehow, six minutes was less believable than six years.
Her whole body felt exhausted, weakened by the lingering effects of the potion.
Six minutes? That was sure to be an error. But, as Hermione blinked once, twice, a third time, she realised that all of the Circle members were still there, standing as though waiting idly by for her to return.
And—
Hermione stared openly, her jaw falling a bit as she noticed it. Their skin. It was the same metallic sort of skin that she saw in the mirror. The memories came back to her, one after the other. The chalice, too, was something she'd hardly recalled as it was handed to her—but what of the pomegranate?
Suddenly, her head burned fiercely. Hermione leaned forward and cradled her forehead in her palm, rubbing her temples furiously in an attempt to ameliorate the pain.
"Ugh," she groaned.
"Yes, yes, my dear, I apologise for that. The Deservation Decoction can be a bit of a bother, but no matter, you have made it back! Please, please, stand! Stand and take your pledge!"
The rest of the members stepped back, returning to their places in the circle around her. The world spun as Hermione slowly rose to her feet.
"Let us proceed with the ceremony," Sage said to the group, but turned toward Hermione as he held out his hand for her to take. "I'm forgetting something—oh yes! Who has the robes?"
"Rogue does, Master Sage," the small hooded figure grabbed a thick black bundle of fabric from the ground and stepped toward Hermione with tiny steps.
The creature was a house elf, confirmed by the way she spoke and how her hood flopped with the weight of her big ears. A female house elf, in the Circle of the Sphinx? Hermione suddenly felt a tinge of pride for the organisation.
"Put these on and approach your brothers and sisters."
Hermione lifted the heavy cloak. Her fingers fumbled as she struggled to undo the top three golden buttons fastened at the neckline. Soon enough she was able to slip it over her back and wrap it over herself. The wool sat heavy on her shoulders.
An odd sensation befell her as she could suddenly feel the cold against her face. Whatever hood the Circle had placed on her head had suddenly evaporated, and when Hermione reached for her cheek, she could finally feel her skin.
Each step seemed to weigh heavier into the earth but she persevered forward until she was mere feet away from the close-knit circle of eyes and glimmering masks that watched her every move. The way the relatively rowdy bunch stood still and silent further intensified Hermione's nerves, emphasising the severity of this moment.
"My dear," Sage said with a little bounce. "We are so pleased that you have returned to us and, as with the blessing of the Sphinx, we are happy to invite you to join our Circle. Please tell me, what name was chosen for you in the beyond?"
The word came stumbling out of her mouth before her mind could even recall the memory. "Astraea."
"And our dearest Astraea, as a member of the Circle of the Sphinx, you should know you'll be bound to the other members under a strict vow of secrecy. This will mean that you will be neither able to share nor distinguish the identities of those in the Circle. The magic that's already taking effect in your blood will allow you to neither see nor identify your brothers and sisters in the Circle beyond their present well-preserved identities, and you will not be able to share any identifiable details of missions, members, or memories pertaining to the core of the Circle to anyone on the outside. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
This word, too, came out rather quickly. Hermione bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep her mouth shut as she squinted her eyes, glaring pensively at the empty chalice which she still cradled in her hands.
She understood its necessity in ensuring that she'd give honest answers, but Hermione really would have appreciated a warning that the water she'd been given was spiked with Veritaserum.
"Do you agree that you will do everything in your power to protect the secrets of the Circle?"
"Yes."
Hermione's eyes widened at her response, spoken resolutely.
She did?
And she'd said it with such certainty…
Yet why did that surprise her?
The answer flashed in her mind as an image—pale-faced, black-haired, and handsome in his own way.
Would he protest? Surely, he knew she was joining a secret society. And he, of all people, would understand the importance of secrecy in a group like this. But, Hermione hadn't kept anything secret from him since they'd begun their romantic affair.
This would be a challenge. But it appeared she knew herself better than she thought; clearly Severus was not reason enough to forgo joining the Circle.
"Yes," Hermione repeated, this time intentionally and without the impulse of Veritaserum floating through her veins. "I will."
"Splendid!" Sage responded with a loud clap of his hands.
"And, do you, Astraea, promise to uphold the values of the Circle, to protect wizard and creature-kind from evil, to the best of your ability, and maintain a strong sense of morality in the midst of corruption?"
"Without a doubt." The severity with which the words were spoken was not lost on Hermione who, like the rest of the Circle, was taken aback by her vociferous response.
"My," Sage said, "that's very nice to hear. And so, my dear, by the blessing of the Sphinx, with the magic that courses through you, I, Sage, hereby invite you, Astraea, to join the ranks of your brothers and sisters as a member of the Circle of the Sphinx. Do you accept?"
"Yes," Hermione said. Her heart pounded in her chest as she spoke the words. "I do."
Applause and shouts erupted at the end of Sage's speech as several of the Circle members congratulated her. Hermione wanted to shrink away from all the attention, but couldn't help but feel the swell of pride at the fact that she'd done it.
Within the past twenty four hours, she thought she'd be killed by a mysterious potion, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and murdered by a Sphinx, yet what really happened was more bizarre than any of those outcomes. She'd made it into the Circle.
"Brava! Welcome, my dear! Now that you have joined our ranks," Sage said, "it is time."
"My favourite part," the American, female Circle member added.
Oh God. Time for what? Hermione'd had enough. What more was there?
"The pairing ceremony!" Sage clapped his hands together. "Just be aware, there's no guarantee that you'll be paired with any of the other Circle members. The chances, really, are slim."
"Not that slim," said one of the Circle members.
Hermione fought the urge to blink when she noticed that the man looked like a carbon copy of the mountainous Pollux, except he was perhaps an eighth the size of his companion and wore tortoise-shell glasses that were far too large for his slender face and frame.
Several of the Circle members turned toward him with looks of surprise.
"Oooh, any takers?" the American woman responded before glancing at an attractive man with darker features and a lithe frame. "Corvo, want to make your coin back from Daph?"
"I will not bet on zis," the girl with the rose-colored skin, Daphne, replied.
"Thank God. You've done enough damage," Corvo said with a wink toward Daphne.
" Oui. Just enough damage to keep you in place. Besides, you will only bet on yourself being zee one she pairs with," Daphne said. "Do you agree, Coulant?"
Coulant, the stout American woman with perpetually furrowed brows, gave a thoughtful look and then shrugged, reaching casually into her pocket to withdraw a flask. She took a swig.
"Rogue would like to bet three sickles on Cassius," Rogue the House Elf said, flashing silver coins in her palm.
Hermione fought the instinct to snap at them all. Was she joining a secret society or being auctioned as cattle? She felt like a fly on the wall, or worse, a First Year standing helplessly among a clique of Fourth Years on Sorting Day.
"Keep me out of this," Cassius, the silver-faced man with broad shoulders and a stiff, wide stance, replied.
The enormous bull-like Pollux let out a loud guffaw and, leaning over the smaller man between them, slapped Cassius on the shoulder with such force, Cassius nearly fell forward.
"D'awww, what's the matter, Cass? Broomstick splinter pricked your bum?"
Cassius straightened with a bitter frown and shot a dirty look at Pollux.
"Cass just hates fun," Corvo chimed in.
"My money's on it being Corvo," said Coulant. "Maybe it's your lucky day, my man."
"Thank you," Corvo replied with a deep bow. "Cass is just here to rain on my parade, apparently."
"Do not blame Cassius for your bad luck," Daphne added, leaning towards Corvo with a sultry smile. " Les corbeaux n'ont pas de copines. "
"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Corvo asked.
Coulant reached for Daphne's wrist and yanked her back to her place. "Quit bein' a bully, Frenchy."
"Not everyone is here to find their 'one true love', Corv," Cassius spat.
"Why am I being ganged up on?"
"Whatya think, Castor?" Coulant asked the small-framed Circle member with the tortoise-shell glasses.
Castor shook his head, his face and voice devoid of emotion. "It's not Corvo."
"Damnit!" Corvo exclaimed.
"No Divination in the circle, Castor!" Sage jumped in. "That's enough, all of you. Social hour isn't until Thursday evening. Come, now, back to business."
"Thank God," Cassius said under his breath. He folded his arms in front of his chest.
Hermione agreed with that sentiment.
Though it was obvious they were all very familiar with one another, she couldn't help but feel that this'd be yet another social sphere that she'd have to painfully assimilate into. Besides, she didn't need a partner anyway. She'd be just fine navigating her way on her own.
"Now, my dear, during the pairing ceremony, we will discover who will be your partner in the Circle," Sage said, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. "As I mentioned, you may not be paired, in which case I'll work with you to provide your training and missions. Though, if you are paired, it'll be a joyous occasion as the magic will connect you with the one that's most suited to your temperament, skills, weaknesses, desires, and more! It's quite beautiful, really. Wands, everyone! Not you, dear–"
Sage pointed his wand haphazardly toward Hermione.
"Oh, and you may feel a small prick on the back of your neck as our Sigil is formed and you are paired. It's no matter. Just a pinch."
Hermione nodded. She stood with stiff muscles as the Circle members all withdrew their wands and pointed them at her. She wasn't positive, but she could have sworn she saw Corvo cross his fingers at his side as he stared intently at her.
Sage began speaking in the same dramatic Shakespearian tone, though Hermione recognized his words to be Latin this time.
" Ostende ei unus qui ea perficere animam meam. "
The rest of the Circle members repeated the words. Hermione sucked in a breath as she felt a warm tingle wash over her body. It crawled up her legs and over her torso, scuttering like miniscule spiders over her skin.
" Sphinx dirigendos pedes nostros ," Sage said.
" Sphinx dirigendos pedes nostros ," the Circle members repeated.
Suddenly, her head felt hot, her whole neck burned, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying out from the overwhelming sensation of being dunked head-first in a bath that was several degrees too warm.
" Sphinx est nobiscum ," Sage said.
" Sphinx est nobiscum ," the Circle members repeated.
"Ah!" Hermione shouted at the sudden sharp pain that bit at the back of her neck.
It burned so bad, it stung tears into her eyes. It made her whimper and bite back protests. It felt like fire kissed her skin, burning with each bitter lick just below her skull.
"Wh's hpp'ning," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.
The look of utter glee on Sage's face as he watched her writhing in pain felt so discordant. She wanted it to stop. She suddenly wanted to flee this whole bizarre circus.
" Sphinge, ei par ostende nobis ," Sage said, both rows of teeth showing in the brightest grin. "Partner of Astraea, step forward!"
Suddenly, everything was still. Though Hermione fought against the burning, it seemed like everyone stood silently, waiting with the same bated breath. Her eyes trailed from one Circle member to the next, desperate for the ceremony to be over and for the pain to stop.
She pleaded with her eyes, meeting the gaze of Castor who, apparently through Divination, seemed to know something she didn't. Then to Pollux, who certainly couldn't be her partner; they seemed to have nothing in common.
Coulant stood rather casually, her hips leaning intimately close to Daphne's who smiled politely at Hermione. Neither seemed to be her match. Perhaps it was Corvo? He seemed nice enough. She still hoped that she wouldn't be paired at all, but whoever it was, she knew it wouldn't be the bitter-faced Cassius who stood with his jaw tight and muscles bulging with tension.
She couldn't help but notice the way Cassius had started to visibly shake. His robes rattled around his knees and, despite the silver colour of his mask, she could see the rosy hue of his cheeks as though flushed with exertion.
He didn't seem happy at all. In fact, had his glare been daggers, she'd certainly be dead.
" Sphinge? " Sage said in a sing-songy voice. " Ei par ostende nobis! "
There was silence.
Oh, thank God.
She wasn't going to be paired after all—this was it!
She could go back to Hogwarts and get started on her own training. She could rely on only Severus to give her the appropriate help she'd need to be a trained fighter once again. She could peacefully integrate herself at her own pace and —
" Ffffuck! "
Hermione's head snapped toward the shout. Her stomach sank.
Cassius let out a pained groan and suddenly, to Hermione's dismay, stepped forward beyond the bounds of the Circle, towards her. His whole body, which she now realised was exhausted from fighting against the magic, collapsed as he fell on his knees to her feet.
Well, damn it.
Damn him, damn the Circle, damn the bloody Sphinx.
Damn it all to hell.