Disclaimer: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work. I own nothing except Salazar's wife, son, and various other original characters. This story is an AU of sixth year, but it will contain a few spoilers from Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. However, it will still seriously diverge from canon. Oh, the title is a reference to a book, which I most certainly do not own.
"blah": dialogue
'blah': thoughts
"blah" : Parseltongue
"blah": Legilimency/Telepathy
Italics: excerpt from a book /newspaper or any other written form
Bold: a word or phrase that is emphasized
Italics, Underlined, and Bold: location/date of a scene in the story
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
- Unknown
Chapter Eight: Through the Looking Glass, Part One
Hogsmeade Wizarding Village, Home of Amia Hawthorne: Late Autumn, 962 A.D.
The warming, winter sun shown through a windowpane and cast light upon a wane, pale body. Tear tracks lined what, under normal circumstances, would be a beautiful if aged face. A woman trembled from excruciating pain. She attempted to cry out in agony, but her voice failed her. Amia Hawthorne rested safe and secure within her bed, still wasting away due to some nameless ailment. She laid there in an apparent daze, her eyes completely glazed over. However, deep inside, her mind was racing, searching for an answer.
'Why is this happening to me?' she thought frantically, pleading to the Maker for an answer. 'Why?'
But try as she might. Search as she might. Wrack her brain as she might. Amia could find no reason.
One week she was fine, healthy and happy, assisting Godric with some obscure text and task. Although for the life of her, she could not quite remember what either was about. And yet, within the next fortnight, she was fighting for her very being, her very life.
'It all started after I finished that rune-work on the scroll Godric wanted,' Amia remembered haltingly, a fog obscuring her memories. 'Could it possibly be connected?' she questioned herself, limbs trembling. 'I don't really see how. The runes were supposed to be about giving life and promoting health.' Amia mentally sighed. 'That is quite the opposite of how I am now,' she bitterly mused as she felt the tingling of another onslaught.
A fresh wave of pain rolled over Amia, bursting through her thoughts. There was an inferno burning her skin, lightning shooting through her neurons, ice freezing in her veins, rumbles and quakes within her bones. She moaned, an agonizing and aching sound, praying for mercy. For death.
Unexpectedly, soothing and gentle hands touched her forehead, fighting back the flames. They moved across her skin, numbing the lightning and unthawing the frost. She could hear a soft hum, a melody that eased the tremors along her spine.
Amia sighed with release, the pain continuing to ebb away. Her vision focused after a long moment, and she stared into endless crystalline blue depths, almost white with their intensity. And a rather odd and untimely thought surfaced in her mind.
'Siobhan has the most beautiful eyes.'
The head hanging over her retreated backwards, allowing Amia to see her adopted daughter's entire profile. A small, embarrassed smile alit her worried face, as though the younger woman had actually heard the unvoiced compliment.
"Rest now, Mum," she ordered softly. "That last one has taken much of your strength." Her bronzed hands moved, caressing Amia's skin. "Do not fear anymore, for I am here. I will keep you safe," she added with in a quiet whisper, which her foster mother barely heard.
Amia, using up much of her reserves, nodded. Her lips moved faintly as she whispered, "And Helga?"
The younger woman tried her best to smile and glanced to the corner. Hidden within a chair and a mound of blankets all that could be seen of the person in question were her eyebrows and the top of her head.
"She's sleeping," Siobhan replied, now caressing her mother's graying hair. "She is very tried and very worried…" She did not complete the sentence, for there was no doubt whom Helga worried after. The blonde returned her gaze to her companion, pleading for her to rest as well.
Amia gazed into at her child for a moment, something strange passing across her expression before finally acquiescing. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep, finding the peace in dreams that she could not find in the waking world.
Siobhan sighed, gaze never leaving the ill woman as she determinately studied her. She took in Amia's increasingly emaciated body, her gnarled hands, her nearly translucent skin, and she shook her head sadly. The blonde stared, completely oblivious to the outside world, seeming as though she was trying to solve an infinitely impossible puzzle. She moved her head from one side to another, her eyes ever searching, watching for some sign. Something. Anything.
After several heartbeats, Siobhan shook her head, apparently ending her search. She exhaled sharply, hoping to drive the rising sense of dread out with her breath. There was something wrong here; this disease was not natural. She had felt it, although she was not sure what it was. It was just a sense of wrongness, of corruption and distortion. While Amia was in the throes of agony, a distorted, leaching thing had come forth. And when it had left, a little of Amia… her strength, her life, her soul went with it.
Siobhan's gaze flicked from the dying woman to the sleeping Helga in the corner and back. She gently moved a trembling hand to Amia's forehead.
And she whispered reverently, "I do not know what is plaguing you my friend, my mother, but I swear to you that I will find it and stop it." She paused, letting her words sink in, and blue eyes, diamond hard, practically glowed with resolve and determination. "Even if it kills me."
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Tower: A Day Later
The mirror was a pure smooth surface of silver. Untarnished, completely even, without any imperfection. In a word: flawless. And it was very much unlike the man currently staring into its mysterious depths. He was an arrogant man, haughty and cold, so caught up within his own brashness, his own self-importance that others were as nothing to him. Save one.
It had not always been that way. But time had withered away his soul, leaving a twisted husk where once there had been a noble if occasionally foolhardy man. Allowed a deep seed of resentment and jealousy to grow to sinister fruition.
His tarnished eyes gazed into glass as a firm hand placed his wand within his pocket before lifting his fingers to the smooth surface. He had to see her; he had to watch her, even though she was not his. And most likely would never be, regardless of his desires. With a few muttered words and a tap of his fingertip upon the glass, the image upon the surface shifted from a man of arrogance and golden eyes to a lady of grace and smiles. She was exquisite, beauty incarnate at least to him and her husband. He just loved to watch her walk, see her gold-silver hair swish behind her and bronzed skin shine in the morning light.
However, at the same time, he hated her. He loathed her with every fiber of himself. She had ruined everything. She had destroyed his family, taken his brother away from him. She had disrupted their perfect lives by simply being there.
The man's eyes narrowed as he watched her. She was perched within a chair near a table filled to the brim with books. In the background, rows upon rows of bookshelves were visible. Obviously, she was in some sort of library as her blue eyes were currently focused on a book, which was nestled within her tiny hands.
"Siobhan?" A smooth voice with a Celtic accent could be heard in the background. "Is that you, love?" A dark-haired man dressed in wizarding robes suddenly entered the image, grinning as he saw his wife.
"Er…" Siobhan glanced up and smiled as she noticed him approaching. "Oh, hello, Salazar. Are you just now getting out of class?" she inquired with a note of concern.
"Yes," Sal replied, continuing to move toward his wife. "But don't worry; nothing bad happened. Elgin simply kept me afterwards to ask a few questions."
The blonde again grinned at the mention of her husband's favorite pupil. Her smile widened as he finally reached her, bending down to give a quick, or not so quick, kiss of greeting.
And in a distant tower, a man turned away from the image, not wanting to see the affection. He furiously gnashed his teeth together. How it pained him to see the two of them together. Siobhan should have been his! And Salazar… well, Salazar should have never married her. Sal should have never betrayed him.
Haughtily, the treacherous man turned back to the glass, face mere inches from the surface.
"So where is Rowena? After all, she is usually the one I see you with as of late," Sal asked curiously, taking a seat.
"Well, Quinn has gone into overly dramatic mode, what with discovering she is to have twins and all." Siobhan rolled her eyes and shook her head with mock theatrics. "He's all but forcing her to stay in bed at all times. He honestly thinks that if she as much lifts a heavy book, she'll injure the babies."
Sal snickered at the mention of the overly protective Potions master. "He is just asking for it, isn't he?" he mock-questioned. "She is going to use your method of persuasion. I can imagine Row just up and hexing him one of these days." He frowned after a second. "Hopefully, she won't use the Stinging hex. That one hurts quite badly when applied to certain body parts."
The blonde merely grinned knowingly. "The chances of that happening are increasing with every passing moment." She chuckled darkly, lips twisting into a smirk that mimicked her mate's. "Helga and I have a wager over when it will happen." At the look of surprise on Sal's face, she went on, "She says it will be sometime next week, but I except it will happen any day now."
He laughed, throwing his hands up in pretend disgust. "Honestly," the man muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. "Well, not to get off topic or anything." Siobhan's eyebrows rose at the comment, but he carried on as if he hadn't noticed. "But what exactly are you researching?" Salazar inquired, indicating the various books strewn about. "It's not that inscription from the amulet again, is it, love?"
"No, not the inscription. Rowena and I have seemed to reach an impasse as far as that is concerned." Siobhan sighed rather dramatically and flicked her fingers derisively. "We will probably be working on that until the end of the century." She snorted before quickly becoming serious again. "This is for… well…" She paused to inhale, clearly vying for time to collect her thoughts. "Well, I discovered the oddest thing the other day when I was sitting with Amia." Siobhan eyebrows knit together with a worried frown, and she chewed on her lip. "I believe that she isn't truly ill… well, she is ill but not with a disease. Rather she is under some kind of curse--"
"A curse indeed," the man watching them whispered to himself, smirking darkly. "My curse."
He again lifted his hand to the glass. 'I think I have seen enough of this for the moment. Now to view the rest of the castle.'
With a wave of his hand and a few words, the image began to shift, showing other happenings within Hogwarts.
'Hmm,' the man thought after a few moments, 'Rowena is not bed but actually hiding out in one of the unused classrooms.' He flicked his fingers, the picture once more changing. 'And her unsuspecting husband is down in the dungeons, tutoring several of the third-years.' With a few more hand-waves, the man had seen most of the inside of the castle. 'As for the grounds.'
The mirror-image shifted to the outside, showing the trail from Hogsmeade to the Entrance Hall. Yet, just before another hand gesture the man hesitated, spying someone coming up the pathway toward the school. He idly tapped his chin with his forefinger before making the image zoom in and travel to the side.
"It can't be." In his shock, the man actually spoke out loud. "Faolan…"
He stared, completely dumbstruck, at the figure who was quickly approaching Hogwarts. A youthful but tired looking adult with amber hair and a noticeable limp.
"But I haven't seen him since before we started the school. Why would he show up now, just when my plans are starting to pan out?" His face narrowed in suspicion as something tugged within his memories. "Something is not right." He concentrated, searching his memory.
After several moments of futile searching, the man reached for his wand and raised it to his temple. "Commemini Faolan," he commanded.
A memory of a dimly lit pub and a magical dagger filled his mind. The man studied the recollection carefully, searching each of the visible faces. Slowly, his attention traveled to the darkened corners and the molten eyes gleaming within the shadows.
Suddenly, his face slackened in surprise. "NO!" the man all but screamed. "No, not here, not now! He was there; what if he knows?"
A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind, each one more terrible than the last. His breath hitched.
"That thing is going to ruin it all!" He squeezed his hands into trembling fist. After a few terror filled moments, the man finally screamed once more. "Oh, get a grip, Godric!" he berated himself. "Just calm down and think!"
He shook his head, forcefully dispelling the panic. With several quick breaths, he finally began to calm. Godric again lifted his eyes to the image and studied it, noting that Faolan was moving ever closer to the castle doors.
"There is only one reason he would show up after all this time. He is going to tell them." Gryffindor hesitated. "But wait, I was cloaked." He again paused, considering it very carefully. "What if he doesn't know it was me? What if he is only coming to ask for help?" he mused, deep in thought. "That's it. Has to be."
Godric suddenly sighed in clear relief. After several seconds, his eyes finally turned away from the glass. With a final flourish of his wand, he dissolved the image, returning the mirror to its natural state. He smiled, heart now lighter.
'But that fool of a werewolf is going to interfere,' Gryffindor thought hatefully, returning to his earlier train of thought. 'And I can't have that, can I?' he mused, twirling his wand with his fingers. 'No, I can't,' he decided.
Godric inhaled slowly, thinking over the problem. 'That interfering busy body should have been put down years ago,' he put in rhetorically, an evil smirk alit what were once kinder features, 'just like that foolish friend of his. Humph, sly Slytherins indeed.' He all but spat the thought.
Completely turning from the mirror, he began to pace. 'I have to do something. I have to stop that creature before he ruins everything.'
Godric paused mid-step, coming to a decision. He moved to the wardrobe, opening the oaken doors. His hands traveled to a hidden compartment, removing a silvery transparent object, an Invisibility cloak. Gryffindor stared at the glittering fabric for a moment before nodding his head, thereby cementing his resolve. He quickly stuffed the cloak into an inner pocket of his rusty, red robes and headed for the door of his chambers.
A treacherous smile spread across his face. "I am coming for you werewolf… creature," he whispered, a dark chuckle escaped his lips, "monster." Pyrite eyes glowed in an unholy light.
Number Four, Privet Drive: July 29th, 1996
The pictures moved in a torrent of color, light dancing across the paper. Shades of blue, red, green, and all the other imaginable colors cascaded about the page of some nameless wizarding book. Emerald eyes quickly scanned through the text, clearly searching for something. A hand lifted to the page and swiftly turned it before he again scanned the text. The page was once more turned, and the entire process repeated.
After what seemed like days, but was probably more like hours, the book was closed with a soft thump and was deposited upon a rickety desk. The wary hands moved to an equally tired face. The weary fingers smoothly removed the spectacles that were perched rather precariously and began to rub the bridge of a nose.
Harry Potter sighed to himself; this was getting him nowhere. Spending the last few hours searching through obscure texts looking for interesting spells or objects that could possibly be of use was not his ideal usage of his very limited time. Especially when most of the spells in said books consisted of Color Changing charms or something equally frivolous.
'I could be studying right now, preparing myself for the war and the battles to come. But no, I just had to agree to help Hermione with her research.' Harry sighed dramatically, his hands continuing to rub his aching nose. 'When I volunteered for this, I knew that it would be tedious and would most likely have little or no results… but this is madness! Out of all these books that she sent me I have found absolutely nothing that is useful!'
The Gryffindor glowered as his narrowed eyes moved to the enormous stack of books. If he included those Dumbledore had sent earlier, the pile quite literally took up his entire desk and a good portion of the surrounding floor.
'When she said that she was sending a few for me to look through I was expecting five or possibly ten tops. A few to me is about three, but I know that Hermione a few is usually just under a dozen. But still, sending over thirty is a bit much.' He sniffed forcefully and fought the urge to scowl. 'Yet, knowing Hermione, I really should have expected this.' He exhaled, finally replacing his glasses on his face. 'How is it that I always seem to end up in these situations?' he questioned rhetorically with a toss of his head.
When Harry had written Hermione about his quite extraordinary, OWL scores, all he had been expecting in her letter was a congratulations. However, he had also received a plea for assistance with her research. Being the nice friend, or brainless idiot as he was now referring to himself, the teenager had agreed. He had shaken his head, an odd sense of foreboding in his mind, and had sent Hedwig with a swift reply. If Hermione truly needed help, he might as well be quick about it.
The very next day the sixth-year had been woken bright and early by a rather unhappy Tonks. She had just gotten of her shift at work, only to have Hermione descend on her, demanding that she deliver Harry's mail. The Auror had somewhat reluctantly dropping off a letter and a small box no bigger than an Exploding Snap deck before departing. In the meantime, Harry had fervently hoped that this was indeed Hermione's package and not some twisted prank by Gred and Forge. Uncertainly, he had taken both and had cautiously opened and read the letter:
Harry,
Thank you for agreeing to help me research. I know that you have been focusing on studying, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to assist me. Bill has been working on another project and just can't seem to pull himself away from it.
Enclosed with this letter is an enspelled package…
His eyes had traveled to the tiny package, which was obviously spelled by Bill, for Hermione would trust no one else with it.
…that contains all of the books I would like you to look through. Just take your wand and tap the top. Don't worry. No actual spell is involved on your part, so the Ministry will not be dropping by for a visit.
Thank you again.
Love always,
Hermione
Harry had warily eyed the box for several moments before reluctantly moving to follow Hermione's instructions. He reached into his back pocket and removed his wand, buttocks still firmly attached, cautiously tapping it on the tiny box. Faster than the Gryffindor had thought possible, the box had explosively expanded, forcing him to step back in order to make room lest he be squished. Carefully, he had stepped forward and lifted the lid, his already wide eyes bulging when he noticed the sheer amount of books inside. He had shaken his head, running a hand through his dark hair. Hermione had said a few.
That had only been a few tedious hours ago. But to him, it felt as though days had passed. And judging by the volume of books he had searched through, Harry thought that it truly might have been several days.
He once again glared at the stack of books. The teenager heaved a heavy sighed, the air expelling forcefully from his mouth and blowing his bangs back from his forehead. He warily reached over and grabbed a book at random, opening it to the first page.
For several moments, Harry searched through the text, silently wishing that he could be studying instead of researching. Suddenly, his eyes stopped scanning, for a rather odd entry had caught his attention.
The Phoenix Gate:
Believed doorway through time and space. The Gate does not have a fixed position but rather changes its location, usually moving to current centers of magical activity. Various sightings have been reported in Babylon, Memphis, Thebes, Athens, Rome, etc. Its current location is unknown.
Deriving its name from the intricate, and reportedly, tiny phoenix-like craving on its surface, the Gate is a central point of many legends and myths. In fact, the Gate is credited with the happenings of several key moments in both wizarding and Muggle history. One such incident occurred in the early second century, during the infamous Roman uprising. According to legends, the Lady Esperanza de La Muerte used the Gate to travel back through time, thereby altering the original timeline,in which the Roman Muggles were victorious, and ensuring victory for magical kind.
Numerous other myths and tales encompass the Phoenix Gate as well, including rumors that the Gate was located in Great Britain in the centuries before the Norman invasion in 1066 A.D.
While there are numerous accounts of the Gate, there is no clear physical description. Some stories state that it is an actual gateway or arch, while others assert that it is a door set in stone. There are even a few rumors that suggest the "Gate" part of its name is misleading and that…
Harry sat in silence, staring at the page. His eyes were fixed upon the words, as though trying to burn them into his mind. Unexpectedly, a large grin spread across his tired face.
'Maybe there is something worthwhile in these books, after all.'
Saint Ottery, Lovegood Home: July 29th, 1996
Water cascaded downward it a smooth rush before landed with a soft tickle in a silvery basin. A simple, white cloth was daintily dipped into the liquid by a tanned hand. The hand moved to the surface of a quite dirty and ancient mirror, gently wiping away the dust and grime of the last half-decade. The cloth was removed from the mirror and again dipped within the water, now softly washing the intricate carvings along the glass' edge. The now grayish and somewhat dirty fabric wiped the golden moons and stars, removing all trace of tarnish and bringing back a nice metallic shine.
With a soft sigh, the cloth was again taken away from the mirror and returned to the basin. Only this time, the fabric was not dipped into the water but rather laid upon the smooth edge. A young lady stepped back from the mirror, admiring her work. In the glass her reflection was clearly visible: a girl with waist length gold-silver hair dressed in various shades of blue, and a talisman of swirling color could be seen peaking out just below her neckline. A small smile graced her dreamy face, her eyes noting that her mirror-twin was also grinning, for she was quite pleased with her work, too. Despite the original amount of dust, the glass was now completely spotless. It surprised Luna how much dirt had accumulated on the silvery surface as it had probably not been cleaned since the mirror's last use. But then, neither her father nor she had wished to disturb any of her mother's things.
Blue eyes quickly shifted from the glass, the girl turning away. There were other, much more pressing matters to attend to in place of reminiscing. Regardless, Luna still glanced briefly once more at the mirror.
'It will be time for mirror-gazing later,' she thought to herself. Her hands moved to the amulet encircling her neck. 'I have other things I must do first.'
Smoothly and in a single motion, Luna slid the chain above her head, removing the amulet. She held it in both of her hands, bringing the swirling stone down in front of her, one hand on each end. She forcefully began to pull in different directions. A strange almost cracking noise echoed for a moment, and the artifact was now in two perfect halves, split straight down the center.
She thoughtfully gazed at her handy work, a firm smile crossing her face. "One for me… and one for him," she whispered to herself, caressing the two halves.
The swirling blue stone glowed brighter, as if in response to the comment. Where there had been one broken chain hanging from the amulet, there were now two complete, one from each half.
A delicate eyebrow rose in surprise as she studied the new development. "I was not expecting that."
The talisman again gleamed.
Shaking her head, the teenager placed one of the chains around her neck again. The swirling stone dropped gently, nestling itself above her breastbone, very warm to the touch. Another grin tugged at her lips as the glowing warmth began to spread throughout her body, melding with her magic.
After a few seconds, Luna produced a preaddressed envelope from one of her many pockets. With the grace of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, she placed the remaining half within the envelope and sealed it. She walked to her window and the storm-cloud grey owl that was perched upon its edge.
"Argent," the teenager called, addressing the bird. "You know where this is to go," she stated urgently, whilst tying the precious package around a raised leg.
The owl nodded in response, hooting softly and eyeing her mistress.
Luna beamed. "Good, girl." Her eyes were filled with a fiery determination. "I know that this is probably not the safest method, but I dare not use any other, at least not yet." She stopped speaking and sighed heavily. "Just please, I beg you, be safe and fly fast." A bronzed hand reached out to caress the beautiful bird.
"He must get this," she indicated the package. "Make sure he gets it," Luna repeated, staring directly into the owl's eyes, as if trying to burn the message into the bird's mind. "Let no one else… let nothing else come near you until it is delivered. Nothing at all, neither friend or foe."
The owl hooted and quickly flew out the window. And hopeful eyes watched as the bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky.
"Please," Luna murmured, patting the amulet as one would touch a friend. "Please, let her make it. Please, let it get to him."
Commemini: To Remember. Verbal and non-verbal. Causes the caster to remember their dealing with a particular person, place or event.
AN: This chapter is part one of two. Originally, it was all together, but it made the chapter far longer than I really wanted it to be, so I divided it into two parts.
Also, the "past" parts from the Founders' time take place from late December to early January, so it is roughly two months before Salazar is murdered, which is in late February. At this time, Rowena is about five months pregnant. Oh, Rowena is in fact having twins, a girl and a boy.
To everyone who reviewed: Thanks!
Special thanks to Hobbit-Tabby for the beta and Our Catholic Faith (online) for the Latin translation.
Chapter Nine: Secrets within the Secret Headquarters
Ever Hopeful,
Azar
Updated and Edited:
05/31/08
