Oh, this chapter is fun... Many thanks to those who reviewed the last few chapters, several very insightful ideas were mentioned, as well as not a few words of praise that made me smile extensively. please continue to R&R, it warms my heart to know that my work is so well appreciated, and nudges me ever so much closer to a real writing project that may be even greater than this work ever could hope to be! ramblings aside, please enjoy the latest installment of PotDS!
Chapter Thirty Two
Expectations
Veneficus couldn't say that he enjoyed being in the Malfoy family's company however; it certainly came with distinct advantages. On the one hand, he knew that both Lucius and Narcissa were keenly watching him as much as their wards allowed, but on the other they gave him free reign to go and do as he pleased, within their own reason.
Playing the part of the unsuspecting adopted son of an ally to Lucius, Veneficus kept his knowledge of their intended treachery to himself, mentally scoffing at their attempts to placate him of any fear that they were dark wizards or overall bad people. Narcissa tended to be more sincere in her efforts to include him, but such was the woman's naiveté.
Lucius on the other hand, was cold and aloof most of the time, away on 'important' meetings with the Minister and other dignitaries. One look at Anguis told the Sith Lord all he needed to know; this was typical behavior of the Head of house Malfoy.
Rousing from his meditation early one morning, close to the yuletide celebration that the Malfoys hosted yearly, Veneficus glanced around the small room that served as his shelter from the prying eyes of the wizarding nobles for the duration of his stay. If they had noticed that they could not watch him in his room, they had made no noise about it. Soon enough, Veneficus spotted his familiar, the Indian ruby cobra, Zychre, as the snake languished in the sunlight pouring through one of the wide windows of the bedroom.
The Sith considered the snake for a long moment. He knew that he had not been paying much, if any, attention to his familiar, and that the snake had returned no complaint, despite whatever ill effect it might have had upon the serpent. Veneficus had had some research done, by Nott no less who was one of the few that knew of the snake, and had learned that the bond between wizard and familiar was very important. Not only did the wizard draw power from the familiar when needed, but the familiar could grant certain traits or attributes to their master over time and based on the power of their bond.
In addition, if the bond became too weak, the familiar would die, starving literally from a lack of magic flowing between the two. It was purely oversight on Veneficus' part, he being too absorbed in more important matters all over the Galaxy. It was not in his nature to care for the creature, nor would he ever grow to see it more than a tool and weapon, but if the bond required that he willingly impart magic by interacting with the animal, then so be it.
After dressing for the day, Veneficus crossed the room toward the snake, which he noted hadn't really grown since he last check, sitting somewhere between four and five feet in length, the Sith noted that the serpent seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep.
"Zychre…" he hissed, allowing himself to slip into the tongue of snakes, rousing the little creature so that it lifted its head to look at him.
"Massster?" it asked, the snake's head bobbing back and forth slightly as the Wild Force energy wafted from Veneficus by his presense.
Extending a hand for the creature to climb, Veneficus continued, softening his voice so that he sounded as caring and genuine as possible, "I realize that I've been neglecting you, my friend… I have come to make sssure that you are taken care of, and wisssh for you to ssspend the day closse by."
Zychre approached, slowed by the advance of winter and the coldness that came with it, and climbed up the Sith Lord's arm, coiling around Veneficus' right shoulder and neck, while still wrapping as much of its body as it could comfortably fit against his torso for heat. Shaking his head at the selfish nature of the snake, Veneficus allowed his body temperature to rise slightly, well within normal ranges for himself, while making it more appeasing to the small reptile, before making his way down for breakfast.
Casually he walked into the small family dining room, which instead of housing a massive table that could seat dozens, only provided a more intimate setting. A round table with six chairs for the immediately family and a few guests, as well as a cozy-looking fireplace off to the side, opposite a large widow that looked out on the countryside
Lucius and Narcissa were already present, being served by the tiny creatures known as house elves. Veneficus had had little experience directly with the beings, but as far as he reckoned, they were not something to trifle with, despite their keen, eager-to-please demeanor and subservient attitude. Of all the beings within the manor, they were the ones most likely to defeat Veneficus if bloodshed started, so he kept his distance when he could, and they, seeming to sense his distrust, kept away from him as well.
"Lord and Lady Malfoy," Veneficus said, bowing slightly as he entered and took a seat opposite them at the table. Food and drink were served before him, before the attending elf skittered away quickly from his glance.
"Lord Potter," Lucius replied neutrally, nodding his head slightly in return. This was about the extent of the interaction he had had with the Malfoy patriarch, and Veneficus didn't particularly care to pursue it further. The man was beneath him, in power, wealth, and many other things. But not once did he let that show to the man, as it would not be of use to the Sith in the long run for the Malfoys to try and shake free of them before it was too late.
"Did you sleep well, Harry," Narcissa Malfoy asked politely, clearly uncaring of the answer, but making the attempt because it befitted her station as Hostess of the Manor.
"I did, thank you milady," Veneficus returned with what etiquette was needed. He knew that they had only sought opportunity to house him for their son's sake, as well as getting a favor out of Millennial, and he wasn't about to try and interfere with what plans the Sith Master had for their family. However, Veneficus noted as Anguis entered and greeted his family, there were a few things he could set up to end them when the time came.
Smiling at his Acolyte as the boy sat to eat; Veneficus felt the stirrings of nervousness flare up in Anguis. The young Darksider was certainly caught in between the need to placate his parents but also act in a manner respectable to his master, without one or the other realizing the game he was playing.
Needless to say, Anguis had already lost, whether he knew it or not. Veneficus was well aware of the boy's continued attachment to his parents, as well as his long sought respect that he wanted so desperately to earn from his stone cold father. In time, Anguis would learn that love and respect were nothing but meaningless expressions of wasted emotions, which could be used for far better purposes.
Until that time, Veneficus was willing to watch and wait, but he expected that that conflict of interest would come to Anguis far sooner than the boy expected.
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Darth Millennial lost track of time of how long he sat in the shadows of Azkaban, staring into the eyes of Bellatrix LeStrange. Because of her weakened state from her long solitude, the woman's resistances to Force probes were little to nonexistent, allowing free access for the Sith Lord to her memories. There, Millennial found many of the answers he sought.
The cousin of Sirius Black knew much about the man, from his childhood as the outcast of his family, his joining the house of Gryffindor at Hogwarts, his removal from the House of Black, as well as his longtime friendship with the Potter family. Bellatrix knew that Sirius would not serve her dark wizard master, nor would be betray his best friends to death.
Indeed, the madwoman had much in the ways on knowledge, and if not for her darker choices, she would have been a renowned master of her craft. So impressed was Darth Millennial that he desired strongly for the woman to be a personal teacher to his apprentice. However, things in that regard would be more delicate. The woman was still in control of herself enough to be loyal to her master, and maddeningly so she would try to slay the boy who cause the dark wizard's downfall.
However, if he played his cards right, Millennial felt that he could twist her loyalty for the insane Voldemort to the Sith's advantage. Extracting a specific memory of her precious lord, Millennial wove the Force around him, melding his features to resemble the man before his downfall, the man that dwelled in what few dreams the mad witch still clung to.
"M…my Lord?" she croaked, voice raspy from disuse.
"Yes…" millennial replied, augmenting his voice to match the voice of Voldemort. "You're service and loyalty will soon be rewarded dear Bella…"
The woman smiled wearily, "I am willing… to serve you still my Lord…"
"Good…" he breathed, caressing her mind with layers of the Force to keep her from fully recognizing that he was not who he claimed. "Then here is what you must do..."
Carefully, Millennial explained to her what she must do to escape the prison before the summer, but long after he had departed naturally, and where she needed to flee to for safety; Blackmoore Manor.
Groveling, Bellatrix mumbled her thanks over and over, quite literally worshipping Millennial. Assuring her that he would return to release her and begin the plan, Millennial took time to check the other cells for others with the same potential. Pitifully, most were too far out of their minds to even recognize his presence, let alone knowledgeable and powerful enough to serve the Sith. Therefore they could continue to rot in their own weakness, drowning in the emotions and insanity that they allowed to control them.
Returning at last to Bellatrix, the Sith Lord observed her for a few more moments, before returning to the entrance of the corridor and the guard that he had sent away. The illusion of Blackmoore snapped back into place as he entered the suppressing light of the man's spell, and allowed himself to be led back to the main offices of the prison.
Millennial soon departed the island completely by boat, controlled by another of the guards, and he sat in thought as they sped back to the mainland. Ever his mind dwelt on what seemed to be an advancing swell in the darkness of the Galaxy, centered on his apprentice and interesting set of circumstances binding him to the dark wizard Voldemort.
Certain individuals in the wizarding world seemed to think that the boy was on a collision course with the supposed dark lord, whatever the side they supported, and it seemed that they felt conflict was inevitable. And perhaps it was, but Millennial and Veneficus both knew better than to play to what these fools expected.
Millennial was certain that they expected some dramatic and flashy duel between the two, Wild Force flying in waves around the battlefield, but the Sith had other ideas in mind.
Millennial was already working to dissolve the ties that bound together the dark wizard's followers, this trip to Azkaban giving him much information of the remaining 'Death Eaters' that he had not found or encountered. Soon they would be split against each other for leadership, one side that supported the Sith, and the other that would be destroyed.
Veneficus, on the other hand, was focused on obliterating the magic that seemed to bind the dark wizard to the planet, stored in the objects they had thus far collected. The Sith apprentice had suspicions that more were still hidden. Because of the connection between the boy and his enemy, Millennial had left the majority of that aspect of the grand scheme to Veneficus.
As for his part, the final fleeting moments were all soon to be drawn together, and the Sith would rise as the dominant force on this world. Millennial nodded at Madam Bones as he departed the Ministry, brushing the soot that had coated his robes from the very disused fireplace he had found at the location he was deposited at by boat.
'Yes,' he mused as the stern woman watched him go, 'it would all end just as the Sith had foreseen.'
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Anguis felt nothing but intense anxiety the entire winter break. Having his Master in the home of his family for such an extended period of time was taxing at the least, but somehow everything had gone as smoothly as he could assume. While neither part were particularly warm to each other, which he had expected, nothing untoward or confrontational had been said either.
In all appearances, Lord Veneficus, Narcissa and Lucius seemed more than content to just keep tabs on the other, and understanding that nothing would go amiss with their steps of monitoring, stay out of the other's way.
However, Anguis knew that this was about to hit a small snag, with the yearly Malfoy Yuletide Gala approaching rapidly.
Awakening early on Christmas day was a normal routine for Anguis, and he regarded the pile of gifts at the foot of his bed with a bored expression, scanning over them with a wave of the Force for anything of use to him. Clothes, toys, sweets; the usual things that a thirteen-year-old boy would want, but none of that interested him any longer. Nevertheless, he opened each and every one as quickly as possible, setting the many varied items around so that the snooping elves wouldn't report anything out of the ordinary to his parents.
Dressing in an ordinary day robe, Anguis quickly crossed the hall and knocked on Veneficus' door before slipping inside. The Sith Lord was already awake and sorting through what few gifts he had been given with a look of deep disdain on his face. Anguis had not bothered to seek out a gift for his master, even for appearances sake.
Currently Veneficus was hefting a broomstick, which Anguis recognized as a prototype Firebolt, a broomstick worth in the millions of Galleons. "Who sent that?" Anguis said immediately, forgetting himself and reverting for a moment to the astonished child of his youth.
Veneficus smirked, lowering the broom slightly from where he'd been examining it, "Sirius Black," he said flatly, revealing no emotion or jest in his words.
Anguis paused, wondering if it was his place to question how the escaped convict could even access that much money to purchase such an item. Instead, he settled on a more neutral question, "How do you know it was from him?"
"That's not terribly important," Veneficus said dismissively, which caused Anguis to frown for a fraction of a second. There was clearly no note with the broomstick, therefore it could only have been through the Force that the Sith could have the information that Black was behind the sudden arrival of such a wealthy gift. Anguis had read through the manuscripts that Veneficus had brought for him, detailing some of the darker and more occult-like abilities of the Sith, which included a small note on Visions.
It could have been possible, and Anguis would not bat an eye at it being the truth, that Veneficus had simply foreseen that his godfather would send the broom. "However," Veneficus stated, snapping Anguis out of his thought, "why he sent it is of far more interest to me. It would not be in the demeanor of a man out to kill me to send me such an expensive gift, unless it was a deadly trap meant to do the deed in a most obscure manner."
A blackthorn wand appeared in Lord Veneficus' hand, charms and other identification spells cascading out of the young mouth as the Dark Lord scanned the broom for any and all forms of malicious magic. There was none to be found.
"As is suspected," Veneficus said at last, when his spell-work was complete. "A simple gift, sent by a loving godfather, wishing to make right nearly twelve years of missed birthdays and Yules…"
Dumping the broom on the bed without another thought, Veneficus arranged the other small items that were sent by the students they associated with, "Such a meaningless gesture," he said after a moment, and Anguis felt his master's anger start to rise again, "trying to win back the affect of a boy he was so long disassociated from, well…" even with his back to Anguis, the blond Darksider could sense the smirk crossing the Sith's face, "his care and love for the boy long since gone will prove to be his undoing. And I will take great pleasure in crushing what hopes and dreams that Sirius black has left, after finding out why he has returned."
Veneficus was rather moodier than usual that day, speaking very little to either of Anguis' parents, and it was very apparent that the pair of purebloods noticed the darkened mood, but refrained from commenting.
Soon enough, it was evening, and the pair of young men were sent back upstairs to change into robes more suited for mingling with the respectable Wizarding Aristocracy and Ministry officials that were bound to attend the event. Anguis sighed as he waited at the top of the wide staircase, clad in dark blue robes, decked with silver lining and bordered in velvet the color of midnight, giving him a more mysterious air. His left wrist brushed slightly against the lightsaber hidden within the elongated sleeve, while the wood of his wand pressed against his right, each weapon hidden away in the event that something untoward occurred and he was forced to defend himself. Turning as his master's aura floated down the corridor toward him, Anguis had to take a moment to appreciatively smirk at the dress robes that the Sith had acquired.
If Anguis thought the colors of his clothing was dark, then Veneficus was night itself. A robe pure Acromantula silk dyed to an inky black, trimmed in reds and purples snapped sharply around the Sith Lord with every movement, with subtle threading of gold to create many near invisible symbols throughout the garment. Sith Hieroglyphs, Anguis recognized when the torchlight reflected off the embroidery suddenly.
There was no guess that his Master had brought his own weapons with him, as the potential danger for himself was far greater than Anguis, especially with so many of the blood zealots and Death Eaters among the guests.
Descending to the grand ballroom, the two Darksiders drew a great deal of attention, Anguis more so from the younger, female guests, while Veneficus cause the greatest stir in those of a more dark traditionalistic leaning. Muttering could be heard cycling throughout the room, but the Sith Lord raised a very subtle aura of the Dark Side around him, warding away those who would want nothing more than to deride the 'Boy-Who-Lived' in person.
As he maneuvered around the room, occasionally dancing with a girl here and there, as his role as son of the host demanded, Anguis took note of quite a few of the more regular faces in attendance. Walden Macnair was the first he noticed, the dour-faced man hanging back among the shadows of the many floating lights, talking with his godfather, Severus Snape. Lucius was conversing casually with Antonin Dolohov, another recurring visitor to the Manor in another part of the Hall, while Narcissa was speaking with the Carrow siblings. Hook nosed Alecto seemed to be arguing with his mother behind a silencing ward while her brother Amycus was watching Veneficus with disdain as the Sith danced with several of the other younger females of lesser houses.
There were also many of the lower ranked Death Eaters in attendance, all on which Anguis only knew by surname, but they were of less importance overall, as they would not act of their own accord unless under orders from Lucius or Macnair directly.
Overall, the evening was not terrible, but it was certainly less than enjoyable. Anguis had no interest in any of the younger Hogwarts students that had come with their families. He saw that Veneficus had taken a long conversation with Nott and Boot, as well as having been approached by the Minister and his hideous Undersecretary.
Viewing the crowd with muted annoyance, Anguis only felt the captivating presence of the Dark Lord of the Sith when the man was right behind him. "You hide your feelings well, young Acolyte," Darth Millennial said casually, speaking softly to discourage eavesdroppers. "I almost couldn't read your complete distaste for this event until I was close."
Unable to think of any worthy response, Anguis dipped his head quickly and murmured, "Thank you, my Lord."
Lord Millennial put a grandfatherly arm on his shoulder, and steered him toward a open door that lead out to a secluded balcony. "I have wanted very much to speak with you while my apprentice was otherwise occupied," the Sith Lord said as they exited into the cool night air.
The moon was high over the rolling English countryside, and for a brief moment Anguis just looked out on the scene, wondering about the future of his world. Millennial stood in silence for several seconds, "You know what the future holds for this world boy, you just fail to accept it," he said at last, reading Anguis' thoughts.
Distracted, the blond Force user could only stare at the Sith Lord in confusion, until the powerful man shook his head in resignation, "Perhaps you have yet to realize it yourself…"
Anguis had no time to protect himself when the Sith Lord made a simple gesture, cutting off all oxygen to his lungs. Knowing all the potential eyes on them, Anguis made no move to grasp his throat and struggled to remaining standing, while he focused all the power he could muster to throw off the suffocating presence.
"Know this boy," Millennial said, his voice transforming into ice, "you may think yourself someone of importance, an apprentice to Lord Veneficus even, but you are nothing compared to us, a mere pawn in our power play with the Jedi at the heart of the Galaxy. Attempt to rise above your station, and we will end you…"
The pressure released, and Anguis drew a desperate gasp of life giving air, only managing to rid the encroaching blackness from his eyes to see Lord Millennial returning to the rest of the guests as if nothing of importance had happened.
Trying to compose himself, Anguis racked his mind on what he may have done to deserve such a near lethal punishment from the Dark Lord of the Sith. He could think of nothing, he had obeyed everything commanded him to the letter.
There were also the man's words about the future, and that Anguis already knew, or should know, what it was. A pulsating headache was beginning in his mind from the oxygen that was denied and suddenly returned. Turning to glance back inside at the Ball and its guests, Anguis felt something stirring inside himself. The Force responded, and he saw another land and scene somewhere far away. Millennial and Veneficus, facing opposite each other, with sabers raised and anger overflowing at the other.
A confrontation between Master and Apprentice, and it would be somewhere in the near future, but how far Anguis could not see. All he knew, was that if such a confrontation were to occur, he could very soon be positioned to inherit the vast knowledge of the Sith Lords as Veneficus' apprentice.
The thought struck a chord in his mind. The Sith operated under a strict rule, there can only be two, a master and an apprentice. Had Veneficus gone behind his master in how far he had allowed Anguis to be trained, their relationship crossing from casual mentor-mentee to fully fledged teacher and learner?
The shattering of glass snapped Anguis out of his vision, and he widened his eyes momentarily at the scene before him. In the middle of the Ballroom, a lesser Death Eater by the name of Yaxley was confronting Veneficus, while guests on all side shrank away from the drawn wands.
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Severus shifted to the side as the crush of the many purebloods drew away from the Ballroom's center. Macnair swore softly as a heavyset witch trod on his foot, and the Potions Master tried to see through the crowd to the source of the commotion.
He himself swore silently when he saw Harry-bloody-Potter facing off against Yaxley. The foolish Death Eater had gotten himself drunk, and was running his mouth and raging at the boy in front of not only the Minister of Magic, but the other nobles all around.
"Stupid, filthy half-blood! Destroyer of the Dark Lord, ruins our Master, and now we must put up with him among us! I'll cut off his head myself!" the man bellowed, before launching a very blatantly dark cutting hex at the boy.
Even as the boy gracefully dodged the spell, without retaliating, Severus shot a glance at Lucius and Blackmoore, wondering why neither of them was stopping this. Lucius' reasons were obvious; he was not allowing his reputation to be sullied by his far more expendable associate's actions. In fact this event worked much to Lucius' favor, either the boy was injured, or nothing, and regardless of the outcome he could not be tied to it in the slightest.
Blackmoore on the other hand, in his position behind Potter, was another matter. As the boy's guardian he was responsible for his safety, and allowing this attack was a strange, albeit not forbidden, action. As almost seemed as though the man was testing Potter with his duel with Yaxley, and although his every fiber demanded that he protect Lily's son, Severus had no power to do anything about the situation, and could only watch with muted rage.
"Fight back you half-blooded filth!" Yaxly snarled, his words slurring slightly from excessive Firewhiskey. He shot off another Dark Curse, which Potter sidestepped easily. The holly wand never moved from aiming directly at Yaxley, but the boy was wisely keeping from retaliating in front of so many witnesses.
"Blasted welp!" the man roared, leveling a Cruciatus curse at the boy, and Severus could only tally the number of life sentences the man was racking up with his antics.
Potter dove out of the way of the curse, rolling back to a standing position, and then spun out of the follow up hex that flew his way. Severus had to admit, that the boy had been trained well to duel, especially as he hadn't yet launched a single spell of his own. Then it hit him, Blackmoore was showing off how extensively he had trained the boy. Severus knew that the man had knowledge from his heritage, and it was easy to presume that he also possessed great magical power himself. Was he secretly proving his worth to Lucius, that he could turn their hated enemy into a powerful weapon if they displeased him.
Soon enough, Potter tired of his game of making Yaxley look the fool, and with a quick shield charm, followed by a disarming charm and stunning hex, the man was quickly dispatched without a single drop of blood being spilt.
Silence dominated the room, until someone started applauding the boy's efforts, and soon the entire gathering was politely clapping, and Fudge withdrew immediately to call Aurors to arrest Yaxley and ship him to Azkaban for use of the Unforgivable Curses.
Severus noted immediately that Lucius had appeared next to Blackmoore as the crowd gathered around young Potter, and the pair were very pointedly speaking, hidden behind a silencing ward. Lucius did not look pleased, and Blackmoore… well, the man always had a powerful mask of indifference covering his true expression, but Severus could tell that the man was pleased with whatever just occurred, and Lucius' reaction. It seemed that the man was about to get whatever he desired out of the Death Eater's current interim leader.
The Ball ended shortly after the altercation was completed, and Severus was one of the first to take the Floo back to Hogwarts. Albus would very much want to know that Potter had been specially trained in wizarding combat at a young age, at least to the point where he could trounce a drunken Death Eater with little effort.
Somehow he wasn't sure if the old Headmaster would be thankful for the boy's safety, or worried at the implications of the event. Given what he had already learned from Albus, the boy was started to frighten him, with the combination of his seeming lack of care for others, along with a propensity for long periods of solitude, and finally the occasional flashes of outright darkness that seemed to manifest themselves over the course of a given year.
Adding all of this together, Severus knew it was easy to see that something was off about Mr. Potter and his guardian, but the question truly was, what was the cause? Blackmoore's association with Lucius and the remnant Death Eaters was only a minor thing, as many worked with Lucius without knowing the man's darkener inclinations, but somehow, Severus felt that a man as astute as Blackmoore would see straight through any ploy of Lucius', and for the man to still work with him did not bode well.
What was Blackmoore's game, and who were the players? Severus did not like being between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, but he felt even more uneasy about this unknown that could upset the fine balance of everything, represented by the strong, silent cunning that was Alexandre Blackmoore.
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Hermione was practically bouncing on her feet as she led the way into King's Cross to return to Hogwarts. "Hermione, hold up dear," her father called, as the girl's parents struggled to keep up with their daughter. But Hermione was completely oblivious to their pleadings, so excited was she to be returning to the magical world, and beyond that to rejoining with Harry and their team of revolutionaries planning to fundamentally change the world.
Pausing only to wait for her parents at the barrier that divided the muggle world from platform 9 ¾, as she would have to leave them on their side of the illusioned pillar, Hermione checked for the hundredth time on her little side project that she had started when Harry gave their group their assignment to formulate how to power muggle tech with magic.
When they finally arrived through the densely crowded train station, and said their extended goodbyes, Hermione hugged them both and hurried through the barrier and onto the train as fast as she could, more than eager to find her friends and coconspirators.
She was rather early on the train, and not many other people had arrived yet, so Hermione claimed a compartment and pulled out her experiment's schematics. She had hand drawn them over the holiday and she was quite proud of the concepts she had developed. Unfolding her sleets of parchment, she studied her design again. She had taken the notion from the ancient rune stones that were used to power wards, much like the ones in Hogwarts, but instead of carving the Arithmancy patterns of symbols into stone, she tested it on a standard muggle battery.
She made certain that the battery was completely drained while she worked, and was very careful not to cut too deeply and risk damaging the battery itself, but she had managed it, and the small devise had worked, allowing her test light to turn on after she held the battery in her hand for an hour. The charge had been small, but she had successfully converted magical energy into electricity. Her subsequent design was that of a larger car battery, and where the runes would need to be placed to function properly. From her estimations on the smaller counterpart, it would hold power equal to twenty times its normal electrical capacity, and that was just by using the standard muggle design for the battery.
When the others trickled in and the train departed for Hogsmeade station, Hermione had Harry bolt and ward the door quickly, before she revealed and explained her experiment, delighted with the approving nods of understanding she received, even from the pureblooded wizards.
"This is most excellent Miss Granger," Harry said coolly, gesturing at her schematics. "Just the prototype we need to get this project off the ground. But just as you mentioned, we may need to create a more harmonious design for magic to flow through." Hermione beamed at the praise, then sat in thought as the others speculated on how best to combine the ancient rune stone theories with modern components.
However, this quickly became a point of difficulty, as Hermione, Colin and Harry were very familiar with materials that the others had never heard of before, and the purebloods were more in favor of traditional resources for any sort of construction. Metal as a whole was a very sparse subject to them, and they knew little beyond the differences between bronze, iron and steel, especially in how it would function with magic.
"I mean sure, in Potions it makes a difference," Nott had said, "but that's a very specific form of magic now isn't it?"
"But that's just it," Hermione countered, "something as delicate as Potions demands the right metals to prevent undesired results, why would we risk anything even remotely similar? Wouldn't a potion be just as much a storage devise for magic as our battery?"
That had sent the Slytherin boy thinking, and when he couldn't form a rebuttal, Hermione had merely smiled in victory. "Hermione is right," Harry added, "we cannot risk such an oversight becoming the destruction of our project. Nott, I want you to research why metals make such a difference in Potions, and how that can translate to us."
The boy nodded submissively, but Hermione was watching Harry as he doled out instructions of their next moves as individuals. Draco and Boot was to figure out what sort of design their battery would need to be more efficient, while Hermione would work on preparing their next devise, something that could store and release a spell of her choice.
Colin, on the other hand, would be directly assisting Harry with finding a safe place for them to meet, somewhere in the castle that they couldn't be accidentally discovered and stopped. Hermione thought that that might have been the most daunting task of the lot, but there was a gleam in Harry's eye that she felt might mean that he already had a place picked out.
Hermione smiled as she separated from the boys to change as their neared their destination. It felt so good to be included in such a groundbreaking experiment, and the fact that she was working directly with the rest of the most intelligent students in her year didn't hurt either.
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Zhar was pleased with Septin's subtle changes when he returned to their main based on Korriban. The boy had gotten quite over his moody and snappish behavior, which Zhar could only attribute to Septin being so freshly opened to the fullness of the Dark Side. Nevertheless, the boy remained cautious, which was well placed. Zhar would not have allowed the boy to grow complacent, especially not on this world, with those around them.
High Prophet Lotu'an had sent back a report from the Valley of the Dark Lords that was glowing with praise for their success, including the instrumental efforts of Septin, and some other Neophyte named Feyd that Zhar did not know personally.
The groundwork of the excavation for the major tombs was underway, with the entrance to Marka Ragnos' tomb cleared for teams to begin delving into the ruins. Supreme Prophet Dass'in and Lord Millennial would be most pleased with the news.
Ships, all carrying supplies and handfuls of Acolytes, came weekly, and in the short months that they had spent on the deserted world, the Academy was nearing complete restoration. Updating the electronic systems had been by far the hardest, but the ample supply of droids that were being procured by the vast funding of the Sith continued to work their technological magic over the building.
Currently they were finalizing their long range jamming systems, to prevent any ships in orbit that did not possess the proper security codes from tapping into their communications. Zhar consented that if the Sith were anything, it was thorough. Or possibly paranoid, but he couldn't honestly tell which it was from time to time.
Their plans moving steadily, Zhar had time to concern himself with other matters, such as training Septin. As before, he had chosen to continue a more casual approach than the Jedi or Sith around him, but as of late it seemed that his apprentice craved more than just basic instruction, and Zhar was grasping at straws at how best to keep up with the younger human's increasingly ravenous desire for knowledge.
Holocrons and most other instructional material, aside from being on Dromund Kaas, were heavily monitored to protect from theft, and therefore were currently out of reach for them.
Perhaps, with the opening up of the Tomb of Ragnos, the pair of Darksiders could seek for learning and instruction from the catacomb-like depths of the ancient Sith Lord's burial house. It seems as plausible a place as any other. Here, on the ruined world of Korriban, many things in Zhar's life began, and why wouldn't it again be the place where he, and Septin by extension, could draw strength to propel themselves into the future that the Sith envisioned.