Chapter 75: Curse of the Gods
Outside Hogwarts
Neville and Daphne lay frozen on the ground as their executioner stood over them, his gnarled wand poised to fire.
He stood there, aiming for so long he started shaking like a leaf in the wind. His lips moved as he mumbled under his breath, his words falling in a rapid torrent.
Neville had never seen anyone under the Imperius curse before. The man was fighting it, but he was slowly losing ground, and Neville knew it wouldn't be long until the curse won.
The man took in a sharp breath, then his wand shimmered with purple magic.
The dark magic built, growing at the tip of his wand like a chaotic swirl of madness, and Neville's eyes watered at the light. It sent a thrill of terror through him, but he could not look away.
Then, slowly, the light faded, like a candle going out. Slowly, slowly, the man lowered his wand, letting out shaking gasps.
They heard a shout, and the man collapsed to the ground, his face smacking against Neville's boots.
Footsteps ran across the grass, and Dean leaned over them. "Finite incantatem! Get up, let's go! McGonagall is waiting for us."
Neville stood up, helping a shaken Daphne to her feet. As he ran, he spared one last glance at the man who attacked them. His glasses were askew, blood pooling under his chest, his eyes wide open.
###
Perenelle, Inside Hogwarts
2 hours before sunrise
"What?" she blinked. "Where…oh. So there it is, then."
She drew herself out of the circle, grey dust and ashes covering half her body.
"Dumbledore," she said softly. "A word."
"Your plan failed," he said, his voice warm and whimsical. "The world is no longer ending. It has found a saviour."
Outside the darkened room, the electric sky was frozen in time, its brightness throwing a glare on Dumbledore's face.
"Perhaps. But I have planned for every contingency." She stepped carefully towards the mirror, trying to catch his eye behind the glare. "I can't help but notice that this has become a pattern, the world avoiding destruction by a hair's breadth."
Dumbledore was still as stone, so she went on.
"This world is on its 3rd incarnation. The first to destroy the world were the Ancients, who opened the portal to hell and abandoned humanity to its fate. The Earth was saved by Merlin's sacrifice at the gates of time. The second person to destroy the world was Harry Potter. And now, at last, time itself is attempting to destroy the world. Do you not see, Dumbledore? Your planet wishes to die. It cannot sustain magic."
"In my opinion," said Dumbledore. "It seems the world is trying to stay alive, clinging on by its fingernails if it must."
She scoffed, the hem of her dress shuffling across the floor. "The other pattern I noticed is that every time the world is about to collapse and die–finally giving up the ghost–some grey old wizard shows up and starts meddling with the fabric of time. Once it was Merlin, but he has passed that enviable role on to you."
Dumbledore said nothing, his eyes watching her.
"But Merlin never acted alone, you see," said Perenelle quietly. "He always had friends in high places. I know you are in contact with the Ancients. You might even have discovered how to communicate with time herself, listening to her prophecies and manipulating the river of fate as you see fit."
She turned, locking eyes with Dumbledore.
"But now, I have cut you off. You know this, don't you? Your friends cannot see us, cannot send help. There is only you and me."
The room was deathly quiet.
"Show me–right now–how to contact the Ancients."
He blinked, his brow furrowing.
"You will not like what they have to say."
"It's still my choice to hear it, yes?"
"Perenelle," he shook his head. "You are never going to return to them. Not while you live. If you go down this path, it will only end in suffering." His voice softened, turned pleading. "I'm asking you once more, stay here with us. Help us rebuild the Source of Magic. Be our friend, not our enemy."
"Dumbledore. Tell me how to contact them."
He remained silent.
"If you do not," said Perenelle. "Then I will release all the dark magic I've trapped inside this circle. It will destroy the school, and…can you see those lightning strikes in the sky? That is pure chaotic energy, and I will ignite them. Those lines of doom which stretch across thousands of cities across the world, all of them connected through a tense thread of magic, I will ignite them all. I may not have enough strength to escape to Atlantis, but I have enough to destroy the Source of Magic, and to cripple the world as you know it."
"Ahh." His eyes flicked to the edge of the mirror. "So that is your choice then."
Perenelle said nothing, watching him pace from one side of the mirror to the other.
"If you do this, you will ruin all chances of-"
"You are trying to stall me. Again. You have two options, tell me what I wish to know, or the world ends. It's not a hard decision."
He was silent for a long moment. "If I told you, what would you do?"
"Talk to them. Ask them for a way home."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Perenelle, I have seen this path, and I know what you will do. I cannot-"
The eye was upon him as soon as he drew breath, and he let out a strangled cry of anguish. Thoughts cascaded from his mind in rapid succession, like a picture book flipping too fast.
Dumbledore in a church, gazing up at the statue of Merlin.
His sister, playing games on a carpet, making a toy knight kiss a princess.
Prying a red stone from the hand of a dead man, spattered with blood and eyes wide with eternal shock. He handed it to a much older wizard, shaking as he left the cave.
Crying on his twentieth birthday, and again on his fortieth, until he was able to take the pain with a mulled wine.
"Tell me!"
A Phoenix crying out, the only strength in a battle that tested his every nerve. His enemy's smirk, as if he knew he'd won—darkness always took so much from the light—
He sometimes felt as if his last moment of real contentment was on his eighth birthday, where his sister gave him woollen socks as a present—
"You insufferable fool! The Ancients!"
He tried to spell open the door—burst it, pry it open, but the enigma ever remained, and finally he left it alone—he was not worthy to enter, it seemed…
The tome was set down with a smile—and a heavy shifting of dust—as he turned to his best friend and said, "I'd give anything to see what the Ancient's world looked like." His friend's lazy smile, an arm draped around his shoulder. "Always the dreamer, Albus."
He sometimes asked his Phoenix to take him someplace far away, but he never did.
The Labyrinth in Dumbledore's mind collapsed, and from the ashes rose a thought. I wish I could see…
His heart thudded in the heavy darkness.
And then I died…
Thump thump.
Everything was grey and cold, and I remained alone until I realised that I had broken the last bond between time and space.
And I saw a world spread before me, the place I desperately longed for, a city of lights beyond the stars.
Thump thump.
I couldn't speak, for I was like a ghost, but then one of them saw me, and…
Thump thump.
He…said…
Dumbledore slumped down as his form went limp.
The light within the mirror shifted, and Perenelle's eye reflected back onto herself.
The mirror was watching her.
"What? No-"
Perenelle fell into her own mind, as thoughts ripped out like pages in a yellowed tome.
###
Thousands of years ago…
Water splashed against the sides of the gondola as it sped along the frigid water. Perenelle rested her chin against her hands, watching the world pass by with eager anticipation.
Behind her, she could see the wooded mountains she'd grown up in, their magical towers disappearing into the morning fog. Before she'd left, her family had thrown her a great feast, where her sisters teased her about finding a rich husband.
"What do you mean if I marry royalty?" Perenelle feigned indignation. "If I can't charm at least one emperor in three hundred years, I really must be slipping."
Her hometown of Arenae was one of the ten magical sister cities, the ruby of the north. She'd lived since her youth in a world of magic. And she'd worked—oh, how she'd worked!—to prove she was worthy of that honour. Countless tutors, classes and trials—each one pushing her closer to mastery of this mysterious power. And apparently, someone important had noticed.
This year at the Choosing, Perenelle had been asked to study in Atlantis–their people's glorious crown. She would serve as an apprentice for three hundred years and—if she did well—she would rise to the rank of master. They'd give her a place among the paragons of her people, with everything she could've ever wanted–wealth, power and eternal youth. After that, each master took a different path—they became scholars and teachers, rulers and socialites. If Perenelle really wanted an ego trip, she could become a goddess among men, with an entire city of worshipers to curse and bless.
Warm seawater sprayed the gondola as it skipped along, the sun reflecting across its surface. She turned her gaze toward the perfect blue sky, a tingle starting in her fingers and toes. She was so close to the Ancient City she could sense it, her magic humming in anticipation.
The city of Atlantis–the homeland of Poseidon–came into rapid focus. It floated along the sea as a glorious riot of colour, donned with celestial beauty to welcome its new apprentices.
She docked to the sound of triumphant bugles and horns, the crack and pop of fire magic as it lit up the sky in radiant colour. Laughing, Perenelle's feet splashed in the warm water as she joined the other apprentices. None of them were more than twenty, the best and brightest of their people. They were like children, naïve and full of hope.
As they processed up the mountain, Perenelle marvelled at the beauty around her, at the magnificent island cliffs where you could see the ocean for miles. It seemed the perfect place to build a castle–even one fit for an emperor–and reminded her of the towers of the city she once called home.
Cresting the mountain, singing songs and chanting hymns, Perenelle finally set foot on the marble stone of the Temple of Poseidon. The Council of Ten stood waiting for them, dressed in robes of radiant white and gold.
The young people from the ten sister cities knelt at their feet and put their hands on their hearts. Their clear voices rang out in chorus:
I am a servant of Atlantis. I will be a beacon of light for our people through progress and discovery, through the union of magic with the natural world. To this end, I make this solemn vow.
I promise that by my work, I will make no attempts that will destroy the world. In all things, I will defer to the instruction of my superiors. I will safeguard the secrets of our research until the end of my life, or my bond is lifted. This, by my life and my magic, I swear so to do.
When Perenelle stood up again, she was a newly minted apprentice of Atlantis, and her people greeted her with thunderous applause.
Though she didn't know it then, that was the day–in fact, the very hour–that the Atlanteans received a message from Time that would change the world forever.
It said: The mighty city will fall, and the bastards will inherit the Earth.
###
Though the climate was much warmer in Atlantis, Perenelle still felt a twinge of sadness at putting away her colourful clothes. The apprentices always wore the same black robes, which were ugly and ill fitting. She'd seen prisoners in her hometown who were better dressed. She suspected there was some kind of lesson in this mortification, though she didn't know what.
The Masters, on the other hand, wore beautiful white robes that showed their wisdom and nobility. They radiated an ethereal power that left you in a daze if you stared too long. She'd never complain about that uniform…but even so, when she became a Master, Perenelle would dye her robes the brightest possible colours-red and aqua and gold.
Not that she had time to worry about her clothes. Perenelle had known her apprenticeship would be difficult, but nothing could have prepared her for the gruelling hell her superiors subjected her to. Every morning, she woke before sunrise, and stayed up so late that the sun rose on a new day of endless drudgery. Punishment for poor performance was a daily expectation. And even when she tried her hardest, spun magic until the brink of exhaustion, all the other apprentices seemed stronger, smarter and more skilled than she could ever be.
The Masters made sure she knew it, too. If she wasn't failing in one thing, it was another. 'Steady,' was the only positive word the instructors used to describe her, since Perenelle never once caused explosions in the courtyard.
She still remembered the first time she met her Master. He was rushing down the hall, carrying a chicken under each arm. One of them was on fire.
"Excuse me, sorry," he said, patting out the flames. "Aphel does that sometimes."
She'd stared down at the chicken, but it was gone. In its place was an egg.
Perenelle had watched the apprentices snigger behind their hands at him, and the other Masters shake their heads as he walked past. He was like a rotten apple at the bottom of the barrel, and as her reward for all her hard labour–he was hers to deal with now.
###
One night, she found herself awake, unable to sleep. She slipped out of the dormitory to wander the gardens. Standing near the marble gate, she listened as the wind swept over the high walls surrounding their island, her bare, aching feet sinking gratefully into the cool earth. The city of Athens, their closest neighbour, glowed faintly in the distance.
Perenelle heard the raucous laughter of the boys bursting into the courtyard, falling over each other in a drunken stupor. She narrowed her eyes as she watched their clattering sandals defiling the hall, fighting back the temptation to cast a boils hex on them.
At night, the male apprentices often went to the city of Athens, where they'd dance and feast with the villagers. They would entrance the women using their magic, lay with them, then flee in the early hours of the morning.
They would do this almost every night, and none of their Masters reprimanded them. If a woman tried the same thing, she'd be dragged before the Council of Ten, not that Perenelle would ever debase herself like that. The Athenians squatted in mud huts filled with vermin, living little better than animals, without even a bit of magic to warm themselves.
She heard the soft sound of footsteps beside her.
"Spoiled boys," said a deep voice. "All they want are cheap thrills. They wouldn't know what to do with a real woman, if they found her."
She turned to look at the man, and though he was bathed in shadow, she could see his light robes and his dark eyes, gazing at her.
###
Time passed quickly. The Ancient City that had become her home was getting older, growing weaker. Problems that had been whispers and rumours, now caused panic and arguments.
Their island was sinking, their Source of Magic failing, and nobody could figure out why.
The people turned to the Masters for help, not that Merlin seemed to care. He was always absorbed in his next failed project, or a pointless invention that fixed a non-problem. He didn't even live on the balmy Atlantean cliffs like the other Masters, he'd built his workshop in a freezing cave under an ice flume. She was convinced he'd been chosen as her Mentor as some kind of malevolent curse.
As usual, Merlin's eyes were bright with rabid excitement as he shoved parchment into her face, calculations and predictions he demanded she read. Perenelle grabbed the papers and scattered them on the table.
"Merlin. Out of the thousands of problems you could attempt to solve, you decide to try to defeat death? We've already solved that problem! The stone of life–which you helped create–does its job perfectly 100% of the time!"
"Oh does it? Then why are most of our people still dying of old age?!" He slammed the wooden table with his fist, causing his potion bottles to rattle. "That blasted stone is not progress, it is the way to stagnation! We cannot create another Stone, so we ration its usage, save it for the nobility and call it a gift from the gods. We treat our greatest invention as a bargaining chip of the rich and powerful! One day, while we are weakened and our backs are turned, our enemies will find the stone and take it for themselves. What will happen to the people of Atlantis then?"
"We don't even have enemies," Perenelle fired back. "And what are you talking about, the Masters are going to create another stone! They're in the process of making it as we speak!"
"They've been in the process of making it for the last 75 blasted years!"
Other Masters might have punished Perenelle for daring to argue. But Merlin's intense gaze was far away, as if he only had eyes for the future.
"There is a better way," he said. "Did you know there is a magical entity in your body? It lives and dies with you. That magic is linked to our spirits, leaving a unique imprint of ourselves onto the fabric of time. If we can convince the Source of Magic to let us modify that imprint, then we can never die."
"So…you want to create copies of the dying?" She felt a headache coming on. "Those have never worked."
"No, we're not making another portrait," said Merlin, impatiently pulling scrolls off the shelves. "Don't you see, we're incorporating magic itself into our very souls! It'll be able to bring us back to life, if we die, and to heal us if we're sick. We won't have to stop time anymore with the Stone, we can embrace it. We can rejuvenate ourselves from the inside out."
She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. He would always go off on these tangents, force her to work on it day and night, when she barely slept enough as it was. Then six months from now, he'd abandon that project entirely for another that was equally impossible.
"We've got nothing to lose." His eyes were bright. "Let's try it, Perenelle."
With those words, she felt her vow take hold of her will. Her eyes burned like she was going to cry.
"Fine," she whispered. "It's not like I have a choice, anyway."
###
It was late at night, and Perenelle couldn't sleep. She lit a small light, rummaging through the papers in her bag.
Rough hands found their way to her waist, lips kissed her neck.
"Darling, what is that you're working on?"
###
A few days later, an apprentice was caught stealing from his Master. This scandal threw the city into an uproar. The boy was arrested and brought before the Council of Ten, who stripped him of his role as apprentice, and sentenced him to walk into the Veil of Death.
Perenelle and the other apprentices were brought in to watch the execution. For educational purposes, they said.
She dreamed that night of whispering voices, calling her into endless darkness.
###
Perenelle had expected her hometown of Arenae to change, as time seemed to progress differently in Atlantis compared to everywhere else. But she still nearly gasped from shock at seeing her baby sister with grey hair. Her lined eyes were laughing as she embraced Perenelle, and they sat at the old table they'd scribbled on as children. As they ate dinner and reminisced, her sister's husband came in, beat the snow off his boots and kissed her cheek. He smiled warmly at Perenelle, offering her a cup of tea, and she felt a faint sense of confusion.
Her sister's family barely had two coins to scrape together, yet they seemed quite content. But she'd never known anyone in Atlantis to be satisfied. They always needed something new because their neighbour had it, and they chose as their friends the ones who had something to give. Perenelle had forgotten this was not the way it always was.
On her knee, her sister rocked one of her six grandchildren. Perenelle stared at the child, noticing the dark eyes were much like her own.
"So," said her sister cheekily. "Did you charm your emperor yet?"
###
It was late in the evening-after several hours of arguing-when her Master finally caved.
"We need to stop," said Perenelle. "This research is not going the way we planned, at all. We aren't inventing a new form of immortality, we're creating something else entirely."
"Listen, the evidence suggests that–"
"No, you need to listen to me. Our city is facing a crisis, the water is rising, and you're over here in your little cave trying to create life. Can't you see how that might be a very bad idea?"
Merlin seemed to struggle with her words for a moment before he sighed.
"You're right. The world is not ready. If we're not careful, creating life could be worse than creating death."
The only good thing about this relationship was that if she argued long enough, he would see reason. Eventually.
Perenelle sighed and stared out at the ice guarding their cave from the rest of the world.
"Now, can we work on a project that actually matters?" said Perenelle. "Like figuring out the energy limit problem on the Source of Magic?"
"Don't they have enough researchers on that blasted project already?" His hands flourished angrily as he went back to his bookshelf. "At this rate, might as well let Atlantis fall into the sea."
###
Perenelle was awoken the next morning by the sound of alarms.
She raced out in the courtyard, where the boys staggered in, several of them bleeding profusely. One of them fell over, and lay writhing on the ground.
"Those Athenian bastards!" cried one of the boys. "They tricked us! And that one wearing the dark robes—I swear he used magic!"
###
I want to stop. Please.
The mirror ignored her, reflecting the magic of the Eye of Truth onto memories she'd buried long ago.
###
A fair woman–wrapped in a sheer pink gown–lazily sipped her drink under the cabana. Her husband lounged beside her, their fingers intertwined. Perenelle studied them a moment—as they shared a contented smile—then lowered her eyes and started preparing their next round of drinks.
The sun was warm and radiant at their secluded spot on the cliffs. It was a private cove, only for members of the high council, and Perenelle was to serve them today. There were four of them: Master Tychon and his wife, along with Master Pamera and her white-haired husband. Their children played in the water nearby, screaming and laughing.
Perenelle's eyes turned to the children, losing herself in watching their game, before Tychon's wife turned around and said, "Girl, what are you doing? Bring the drinks for our guests."
She scrambled to get the tray ready, then floated it over to the older couple. The white-haired man took a sip of his amber liquor. "This is quite good."
"Finest malt in the land," said Master Tychon, first on the council. "I'll send you a barrel of it later."
By the time the next round of drinks was ready, the other woman–Master Pamera, fourth on the council–was engrossed in a spirited conversation with the high councilman.
"The amount of energy nature wastes every day is astounding," said Master Tychon, twirling a leaf in his fingers. "The trees scattering endless seeds, mayflies living a day, flowers flourishing and fading. But you know who wastes the most? Humans."
His wife sighed. "This again? Dear, please, can we not talk about work for one day?"
He went on as if he didn't hear her. "Our wasted energy puts a burden on the Source, and it's why our magic cannot advance. We've already tried rationing magic, restricting higher enchantments to the masters, but we still cannot sustain our population. But what if we harvested what nature had already given us?"
The councilwoman raised an eyebrow. "How?"
Master Tychon turned back to Perenelle, locked eyes with her and nodded. Her heart pounded as she withdrew some parchment from her bag. Waving her hand over it, she broke the magical cipher so he could read it.
The man took it and offered the parchment to Master Pamera. "Here, read this."
There was a moment of silence while she scanned the paper. Her lips thinned, her face drew tight.
"It's brilliantly simple, isn't it?" asked Master Tychon, leaning forward eagerly. "All this time, we've had a completely untapped source of energy right at our fingertips. I could easily create a ritual to harness it. If this works, we could save Atlantis."
"But we couldn't use it on common people, we'd need magic users," said the council woman, frowning. "So, what…use our ill and infirm as test subjects? Considering we've tried everything else, I'm not opposed to considering the idea…but I doubt the other council members will agree."
"Ha, I'm not that callous. I'd never sacrifice our people." He leaned back in his chair. "Did they not capture several Athenians who could do magic? I'm sure there are others."
###
There were few things that made Perenelle feel guiltier than that moment.
She tried not to think about what those experiments must have been like.
The mirror showed her anyway.
###
Early in the morning, Germaine pulled on her fur cloak and wandered into the Whispering Wood.
There were few in her tribe that dared enter the wood this early in the morning, when darkness hid behind every rock and tree branch. The priestesses warned of strange spirits that roamed the woods at night, and even during the day it was safer to walk in groups of two or three.
Germaine was not afraid to venture alone into the forest. Since she was a child, she'd been able to sense things that others could not. She could even, sometimes, make things happen for reasons she could not explain. She had once got a glimpse of the wandering spirits, and was awed by their beauty.
If she could speak to one, perhaps she could find out more about what she was.
She entered the dark thickets of the forest, gathering berries and mushrooms, singing as she walked.
Eventually, she heard someone singing back.
###
She awoke in bleary eyed pain several hours later.
She was no longer in the forest, but in a strange hut filled with fire that didn't smoke. The bright lights shining into her face made it impossible for her to see the ones who captured her.
Strangely, she did not feel afraid. She felt nothing but a passive interest in the lightning cords that ran down her arm, and the metal bindings on her arms and legs.
"Open your mouth," said a sharp voice.
She did so without even thinking about it. The white hand passed by her face, his dark body shrouded in shimmering light.
Spirits from the forest? No...they look too human.
She'd seen a painting once of the gods in battle. Thor wielding thunder with his giant hammer, while Odin studied the battle with shrewd calculation. She'd never been sure if the gods were real, but looking at these men in black robes, surrounded by fire and electricity, she couldn't help but wonder if the poets hadn't been right all along.
What will they do with me? Am I to be offered up in sacrifice?
Germaine felt something acidic in her throat, and a piercing feeling in her stomach. For the first time, cold dread filled her.
The bodies from the bog would wash up on the shore sometimes, those sacrificed to the river gods. She'd always hid her face from their wide open eyes, as they begged her to see how bitter and cruel and pointless were their deaths.
The men in black were chanting in an unknown language, and she felt something inside her chest writhing. She screamed as lightning arced across the tent, clawing at her stomach to free the demon inside her.
Hands gripped her shoulders and held her down. "Put her to sleep, now!"
###
Master Tychon lived in a great marble mansion near the sea. The mirror showed Perenelle the great hall, where the master and his family ate a dinner large enough for twenty men. Several apprentices stood nearby, using magic to tend to the family's every whim.
Merlin slammed open the great door, harsh light flooding in from outside.
"What have you done?!"
The man in white-sitting at the head of the table-looked unperturbed.
"Ahh Merlin, it's been awhile. Please, sit and have dinner, and we will discuss our work."
Merlin lifted the roast lamb off the table, smashing it onto the floor. His wife flushed angrily, while his daughter shrieked and jumped from her seat.
"That is my work…my research! You've poisoned them for your own greed! You have ruined us all!"
The councilman stood up, whisking away the spoiled dinner with a wave of his hand.
"Come, Merlin, there's no need for theatrics. Let me show you everything I've done with your ideas so far, and then you can pass judgement accordingly."
They left the great hall, reappearing in a corridor of grey stone. As they walked, they passed small rooms lining the hallway. It was built like a giant catacomb, and inside its rooms were thousands of humans. They were thinly dressed, lying on cots cut into the wall. Some were moving about, but most were asleep. In the back of the room, metal devices covered in grey ooze loomed.
"You know that our world is dying, Merlin. We do not have enough energy to sustain the Source, due to a glitch in the system we cannot fix. If the Source fails, then all magic will be lost, and we will be left with nothing." He gestured at the giant machines. "This is a way to buy us some time."
Merlin scanned the enclosure, eyes wide with shock. "These are people, Tychon! You cannot corral them like cattle, bleed them of all life. You used to have a moral backbone. Have you grown completely rotten with years and power?"
The man snorted. "Oh please, you're acting like this place is some kind of hell. These dirt scratchers have never lived as well as we're treating them. Three meals a day, no lice or fleas, books to enrich their minds and plenty of companionship. We'll give them a long, healthy life, and they will give us what we need to survive." He sighed. "At least that was the original plan."
"Did your experiments fail? Thank the merciful heavens. Perhaps they will forgive us yet for our sins."
"Hmm, you might not be saying that once the sea takes us, or our enemies the Athenians swarm us. They are becoming more than a nuisance. It would be nice to have an excuse to cull the herd."
"Tell me," said Merlin. "Do you truly believe any means are justified to save our world? Because I'm not sure magic would agree with you."
The look on Master Tychon's face darkened.
"You fools are the reason we can't make any progress. Prophecy is madness, magic isn't a sentient being, and I tire of this conversation. I have work to do."
"You must destroy everything," demanded Merlin, sweeping his arm towards the metal machines. "Before I tell the Council what you've done."
"Again with the theatrics, Merlin," he said, without a trace of worry. "Tell them if you must." The man turned to a black robed woman. "Assistant, we're done with this hallway. Send the subjects in this room back to pasture."
###
Germaine wandered listlessly out of the woods, stumbling over her feet. It was dark by the time she made it home and crawled into bed.
"I'm tired," she said, when her mother asked why the washing wasn't done.
Germaine slept, but it was fitful and cold.
She awoke to blood and screaming.
Her mother lay dead before her, and her sister was slowly fading. Germaine's own mouth pierced her neck, an inhuman gaping hole of blackness and teeth.
And as she drank, every bit of warmth slipped away, the last happy memory of Germaine.
When the creature searched her soul for horror, she felt only hunger and despair.
###
The alarms blared over Atlantis, throwing the city into chaos.
Thousands of evil beings had risen up overnight, devouring every human in their path. Atlantis had never faced monsters like this, a force that not even magic could control.
Athens was gathering its strength to fight their gods, and to force them to stop the devouring plague. Atlantis had no intention of doing so.
It was time to run, and they would take their magic with them.
Perenelle was packing, planning to join the party that was travelling off world, when Merlin burst into her quarters. He grabbed his apprentice by the arm, hauled her into his workshop, and threw her against the frigid stone walls.
"Confess your sin," he said.
Her shoulder cried out in pain, but she set her jaw, glaring at him. "I did nothing wrong."
"You stole from me, and showed my work to the enemy."
"The high councilman told me to give it to him!" she cried. "I couldn't say no to my superior, you know that!"
"You were in his bed!" Merlin cried. "You lay with him while his wife and children slept in the next room!"
Perenelle felt tears welling in her eyes.
"He…he was nice to me. He said he wanted only me. We would have a family…someday."
He stared at her tears without an ounce of pity.
"For nearly a century I taught you, put up with your mediocrity, all for nothing. You are a fool." He walked out the door. "I bind you to these walls. You will not go off world. Stay here and repent your sin."
###
It didn't matter how loud Perenelle screamed, or how desperately she beat on the door. Merlin's laboratory lived in its own pocket of stone, far above the city and everyone who could hear her.
Perenelle–using magical sight–saw the Athenians ride on Atlantis. She felt her knuckles grow white with the desire to send a wave to destroy them. If they had the chance, these muggers would steal everything that wasn't nailed down, claiming magic as theirs when they did nothing to deserve it.
She watched as electricity arced through the sky over their city, and her heart leapt with hope.
The high masters had activated their strongest weapon. Now the Athenians would feel their wrath, and they would pay for their insolence.
The electric dance of magic slammed down on their enemies, igniting them in flames. But as the Athenians screamed, their ships crashing off course, a horrible whine filled the air, the entire earth shaking like a pot about to boil over.
Perenelle watched in horror as the city collapsed on itself, blinking out of existence.
###
By the time anyone found her, it was twelve days later.
Perenelle had survived on water, but she could not create any food. She'd beaten the door for so long, it had nearly broken down. Not that she could have left, even if the door was wide open.
Stay here and repent your sin.
Her city was gone. Everyone she loved was dead. Merlin was dead, and now her vow would kill her. She could never, ever leave.
In a daze of hunger, she watched as Merlin opened the door, the stink of the muggers on him. His eyes went wide.
"What are you doing here, child?"
Her lip trembled, shock registering that he had actually forgotten her.
"You…you told me to stay."
###
Perenelle couldn't stop the mirror from unravelling all her thoughts. She knew not how much time had passed, or what was happening in the outside world. She was trapped within her own mind. The only way out she could think of was letting go of her connection to the mirror, which would also free Dumbledore from her magic completely.
She grit her teeth.
No.
###
Hermione stood at the spot where Harry was lying in state, clutching one of the amulets he'd given her. The other she'd left around Harry's neck.
It was time to make her decision.
Trust your intuition. You've got this.
Turning toward the light, she regarded the Patronus, who was waiting in her quiet halo of radiance. Valencia offered her the gentlest of smiles.
It made Hermione sad to think she'd never get to talk to this beautiful creature again, or at least, not for a very long time.
"Tell me," said Hermione. "If I make this choice, what are the chances the world will be saved?"
"Based on our simulations using available data, we determine that you have a 52% chance of saving the planet."
"What about destroying the Source of Magic?"
"That is slightly less than 20%."
"And…is there any other plausible way to save the world, that doesn't follow those two routes?"
"All other options are at less than 0.005% chance of success."
Hermione let out a deep sigh.
"Then…I'm ready."
The Patronus nodded, though a faint trace of distraction crossed her features.
Hermione prepared herself, clutching the necklace. I'll say it for you. We'll do this together.
But before she could speak, the Patronus interrupted her.
"Hermione, wait."
The space between them erupted in pale blue light, and a translucent girl with bright eyes and pale hair looked around.
Hermione blinked.
Luna?
"What's going on?" asked the Patronus.
"The Weasley twins have lost contact with Dumbledore. The Priestess has him trapped."
"I see," said Valencia. "So we are blind to what she is doing."
"Completely," said Luna.
A brief storm of fear swept over the Patronus' face.
"I must go," said Valencia, spreading her great wings. "I will return."
And with that, the Patronus flew off faster than they could blink, and Luna and Hermione were alone.
Luna's form had the blue tinge of a Patronus, although she looked more like a hologram than anything else.
"I don't understand what is going on," said Hermione. "Is that... really you, Luna?"
Luna smiled. "Yes. Hello again."
"We thought you were dead." Hermione considered her words for a second. "Though maybe you are, I don't know how the world works anymore."
"No, I'm alive," said Luna, laughing lightly. "I still have my body, I just…can't return to Earth. My home now is the Source of Magic."
Hermione's eyes drifted upwards to the sky behind them. The lines of electric magic had moved slightly.
"How did that happen? I'm guessing ritual magic shenanigans?"
"Something like that, yes. I traded my life on Earth for one in the stars. The Source is my home now, population of one. Before the others get here, there will be a lot of work to do."
"Others?"
"People. The ones who will help save the Source of Magic."
"But…I thought I was supposed to be the only one?"
"Oh, of course not, that would be quite impossible, wouldn't it? A project of this scale requires many hands and minds, including some human ones."
Hermione frowned. All of this was news to her, and she wondered how much information about this plan to save the world she still didn't know.
"Luna," said Hermione, still eyeing the sky. "Why did my Patronus leave?"
A cloud of worry passed over Luna's face. "Because the Priestess has Dumbledore trapped. She knows we're watching him, and she's shut us out. We need to know what she's doing before we act, because she could drastically change our plan."
"To save the Source of Magic or destroy it?"
"Yes."
Hermione's eyes kept being drawn towards the sky, whose bright strikes of energy were definitely changing position. The Patronus had told her that those lines were from thousands of years ago, when Atlantis ruptured time. Their movement was not a good sign.
"The Patronus are trying to break through the Priestess' barrier now," said Luna, her gaze far away. "They'll find a way in, but it might take some time."
"What can we do to help?" asked Hermione.
"Well," Luna sighed softly. "All we can really do is wait, until we can't wait any more. In the meantime, I was thinking you might like a chance to talk to a human being about what it's like to live on the Source of Magic."
"Yes," said Hermione. "Tell me everything you know."
###
Harry stood by as Hermione and Luna talked.
He could see the worry on Hermione's face, as they tried to distract themselves with other things. He could see the wheels turning in Hermione's mind, as she sought an answer to the riddle, her fingers touching the necklace around her neck by reflex.
He could sympathise-he wished he could distract himself from the fact that he would cease to exist in an hour or so.
But since Harry wasn't bound by the rules of space and time, perhaps one thing he could do was find the Priestess.
He got as far as Hogwarts before the world turned into a heavy mist of white and grey. Making his way through it felt like walking through fog.
Just…exactly where was he?
He kept walking, and he saw the Weasley twins. No matter what he said or did, they didn't seem to notice him. Which meant this wasn't the land of the dead, it had to be another phenomenological construct–maybe the land of dreams or something. As he got closer, he realised the twins were shouting at someone.
Harry couldn't see who it was. There wasn't some fog obscuring his vision, it was literally as if it didn't exist. As if this–and this alone–was something nobody was allowed to see, not even the dead.
He frowned. Just exactly what was going on here?
