Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling, the wonderful lady who has inspired so many people to try their hand at writing too. Warhammer 40k belongs to Games Workshop who have a very scary legal team. Please don't sue me, I'm not very well off and could only pay you in pictures. I only mean to pay homage to the wonderful, funny, baroque, gruesomeness that is WH40k.
I should also say a big thank-you to my very patient Beta Jacobus-minoris who has read and reread my writing, pointed out my grammatical mistakes, questioned the suitability of some of my wilder ideas as well as putting up with my long winded rants about plot ideas.
Author's Note
So here it finally is, the final chapter of Through the Veil. It's made an interesting change to writing Carrow and his particular brand of lunacy.
So after I've finished some short stories I've got in the works I will be commencing work on the next Carrow story (I've already started plotting it out), and should start posting it sometime early next year. As last time I will post a new chapter to the last story to announce its publication
Happy reading.
Chapter 5
"I have a cunning plan," Ron announced with a grin.
Hermione gave him a dubious look as she paced between a couple of desks in the disused classroom, leaving a trail in the dust on the floor. "What is your cunning plan?" she asked, trying not to roll her eyes as Ron continued to grin at her from his perch on one of the desks.
"This," Ron announced, pulling a small vial from his pocket.
"That's the Felix Felicis you won in Potions, isn't it?" Hermione squinted at the iridescent liquid it contained.
"Yup!" Ron's grin broadened. "Come on, Hermione, we're having absolutely no luck whatsoever finding where Harry and Luna hole up to plot their dastardly deeds so, you know…" he shrugged, "I thought how about we change the odds in our favour." He gave the vial a little wiggle. "We'd only need a small sip each."
Hermione stared intently. "Ron, that's brilliant!" She gave him a huge smile, causing Ron to flush pink with pleasure. "But when?" She pondered the matter for a moment. "Harry's definitely up to something, you saw his conversation with Malfoy…so how about tonight, after dinner? Ron?"
"What? Er…yes…yes, that would be an excellent idea," Ron said feeling quite flustered.
oOo
They eyed each other across the confines of the broom cupboard. "Ready?" Hermione asked. "Ready," Ron said firmly. Putting the small vial to his lips, he took a small swig. "Hmm, not bad," he said, "definitely better than the swill Pomfrey serves up."
"Madam Pomfrey," Hermione sighed in exasperation, her hand on the cupboard door.
"No, don't," Ron hissed, pulling her back. They froze as Filch went past, the sound of him muttering darkly to himself slowly fading into the distance.
"Wow, that was close," Ron breathed. "What?" he said at Hermione's thoughtful frown.
"You know," Hermione said slowly, "if that was from a single sip of Felix Felicis, I don't think I need to. All I need to do is to follow you, and that means we'll have more of it for a future occasion."
Ron paused for a moment. "Okay. That makes sense….let's go." He shoved the door open, striding down the corridor confidently.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed. Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she scurried after him.
"Ron," she tried again, as she caught up with him. Ron shook his head, shoving her into the alcove behind a suit of armour which for some odd reason was missing its gauntlets and looking rather unhappy about it. Ron put a finger to his lips as he squashed in beside her.
They both froze as footsteps approached, heavy and regular. The large and imposing figure of Harry suddenly loomed out of the shadows, a long package tucked under his arm, his body language serious and intent, his face hidden in the shadows of the deep hood of his robes.
Ron and Hermione looked at one another as their friend past, intent on some errand. "See," Ron mouthed obviously gleeful. Hermione made to move out from hiding as Harry's footsteps disappeared into the distance, but Ron stopped her. "Not yet," he murmured, pausing a moment, "now."
They jogged down the corridor and round the corner, then up a flight of staircase that had been hidden behind a tapestry. Ron paused abruptly and, puzzled and annoyed, Hermione peered over his shoulder just in time to see Harry stride purposefully past in the distance.
Turning the other way, Ron broke into a jog and then a skip, hop and a jump, darting sideways through the secret passage that had abruptly opened up. Hermione sprinted through after him, the passage entrance snapping shut on her robe hem. A severing hex freed her just in time to see Ron disappearing round the corner. She sprinted after him, following the corridor in ever decreasing spirals. Were they going down or up? It was hard to tell, and given the tendencies of this highly magical Castle, she wouldn't be at all surprised if they ended up a few feet from their original location.
They shot out into a corridor, a horribly familiar painting nearby. Hermione stared at it, ignoring the occupant's glower. "Isn't this the…"
"Come on," Ron hauled on her sleeve to get her moving again, towing her rapidly towards a small spiral staircase.
"Ron, let go" she hissed as he tried to physically haul her up the narrow twisting stair, "it's not safe." Ron huffed in exasperation but did let her go. Visions of herself falling to a grizzly and painful death faded from the front of Hermione's mind as they did their best to sprint up the narrow and worn steps.
Just as they neared the top Harry strode past, still with the long bundle tucked under his arm. Hermione gaped; he was heading straight towards that tapestry of…this was the seventh floor…the Room of Requirements, of course, and there was Malfoy looking as dodgy as she'd ever seen him lurking in the shadows, scruffy and nervous looking. Harry was talking to him in an almost friendly manner, through Malfoy kept shooting the parcel under his arm dubious looks.
"So that's your great plan," Malfoy snorted in derision, "a funny parcel thing."
They didn't see Harry's reaction, but Malfoy gave a sarcastic snort as he began to walk back and forth in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his amazing dancing trolls.
"When the door appears," Ron muttered over his shoulder, "we'll make our move."
Hermione nodded nervously, chewing her lower lip. The risk of discovery…if Malfoy spotted them or Harry realised what they were up to…the potential fallout…it just wasn't worth thinking about.
To their relief, Harry strode through the door first when it finally appeared, ducking under the too low lintel, Malfoy at his heels, still looking unhappy about what-ever-it-was that he'd arranged with the giant Gryffindor.
Sprinting on tip-toes, they managed to get to the door in time for Ron to ram his foot in the gap. Tugging at Hermione's wrist, he pulled her into the room after him, his eyes going wide as he took in the veritable mountains of abandoned and broken stuff.
"Whoa," Ron whispered, "does everything that gets lost or broken or something end up in here? Hey," he turned with a wide grin, "if we searched far enough we might find Godric Gryffindor's lost socks or something…"
"Ron, focus," Hermione growled.
Ron started. "Er, yeah, right…this way!" He plunged in among the stacks of broken furniture, Hermione hurrying after him.
Malfoy's hectoring voice increased in volume as they approached, angry and frightened as he shouted at Harry.
"…think you're capable of besting a load of Death Eaters. You're just a kid, you might be huge…and weird, but you're no better that me."
"Trust me," Harry rumbled, a note of amusement clear in his voice accompanied by a rustling noise.
"Getting undressed won't help the situation either, except with Auntie Bella perhaps," Malfoy ranted, "I knew I shouldn't have got involved with a stupid Gryffindor…what the hell's that…what the!?"
"This will be their doom," Harry explained, still calm and cheerful. "I will hide while you play your part…and then when the time is right, I will deal with them."
"And the mask?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.
"It's a disguise," Harry explained happily, "so they don't recognise me."
Malfoy made a funny choking noise. "Oh yeah, right," he snorted, "I can really see how that's going to work, especially with a suspect list that's just going to have you, that bumbling oaf Hagrid, and maybe some very puzzled half-troll on it."
Hermione could just see Harry's look of polite incomprehension. She and Ron shared a concerned look at the silence that descended then. Carefully, they sidled closer, peering round a teetering tower of old trunks. Malfoy's face was a funny old-milk colour as he stared up at Harry.
Harry's bare back gleamed like burnished copper in the soft light, huge slabs of muscle flexing as he shifted his weight. To Hermione's further puzzlement, he'd pulled his normally loose curls into a tight braid which he'd arranged in a neat knot at the back of his scalp.
"I have no choice, do I?" Malfoy whispered, obviously rattled to the core. Shaking his head, he shuffled over to a cabinet, opening it and pushing something inside. "At least hide," he snapped at Harry, as he shut the door.
But Harry wasn't there. Hermione blinked in surprise. When had he disappeared? And where to?
Then the cupboard door burst open, disgorging black robed figures into the Room of Requirements, Death Eaters into the very heart of Hogwarts itself. Hermione froze in horror as she took in the hulking form of Fenrir Greyback himself, obviously excited about what was to come.
"All present?" one of the Death Eaters growled, looking round his companions. "Right, boy," he sneered as he turned to Malfoy, "lead us out of this before Greyback decides to try out your pretty blonde arse."
The other Death Eaters broke into cruel laughter.
Malfoy nodded slightly, obviously highly reluctant to turn his back on these, his supposed allies.
A thunderous crunching sound tore through the gigantic space, amplified and echoing strangely.
"Merlin's saggy balls, what the…" the first Death Eater snarled whirling round, wand raised.
The cabinet through which they had entered the Castle was now nothing more than a splintered ruin, fit only for fire wood.
"You little piece of double crossing shit," the Death Eater growled softly as he advanced on Malfoy, who huddled shaking against a stack of chairs. "I'm going to fucking disembowel you, and then let Greyback have his…" He stopped in surprise, looking down at his chest to where the wedge shaped tip of a blade had suddenly sprouted from his chest. He lifted a hand in puzzlement to touch the shimmering metal, watching in fascination as the edge sliced through his flesh like butter.
"Run," Harry boomed.
The Death Eater slumped forward off his sword, as Malfoy sprinted away into the mounds of refuse as if dementors were after him. Hermione watched in frozen horror. Where had they gone wrong? This was supposed to be an adventure, looking after Harry and keeping an eye on his increasingly eccentric, and explosive, habits. There wasn't supposed to be any blood or…or…
"Hermione, Hermione we need to move now!" Ron frantically dragged her away, pulling the door of a wardrobe open before shoving her roughly inside, shouldering his way in beside her as he pulled the door to, huddling with Hermione as far back as he could, his wand held tightly in a shaking hand.
The shouting and screaming increased, joined now by the crackle and whine of spells being thrown. Running footsteps neared them, desperate screams and the ozone stink of magic as something methodical and unstoppable carefully slaughtered the unfortunate. A body slumped heavily against the wardrobe door, forcing it shut.
There was a pause, and then heavy footsteps calmly moving away in search of the next victim.
In the dusty dark of the wardrobe, Ron gulped back a sob of hysterical laughter, his cheeks wet with tears as Hermione clung to him, her body shaking and shivering.
"Hermione," he whispered, "are you all right? Hermione?"
Risking a small lumous charm, he blinked in the dim light as his eyes adjusted. "Hermione?" he tried again, but Hermione was staring in absolute horror at something by their feet. Ron squinted at it a moment; where was that water coming from? Wait…he froze, that wasn't water. Blood…blood was oozing under the door, coming towards them. He frantically back pedalled further into the wardrobe in amongst the fur coats if seemed to be stuffed with. Anything to get away from the blood.
"Hermione," he whispered, "I think…I think the Felix Felicis has worn off."
oOo
With a quick slash, Atum dispatched another Death Eater, a bulky man with closely shaven hair. Reaching out, he hooked the sickle side of his blade in the flesh of another attacker who was attempting to throw green flashes of magic at him, probably the killing curse. He wasn't sure what affect it would have on him, considering his eccentric constitution, and he wasn't particularly keen to find out.
The man gave a terrible gurgling scream as the hook of the khopesh dug into his ribs. Atum jerked the blade free, slashing it across the Death Eater's throat, quickly and efficiently ending his pain, the body slumping against an old battered wardrobe, slowly sliding down to the floor to sit in a growing pool of blood.
Eight down, five to go.
Atum squinted at the wardrobe in curiosity; there appeared to be two smallish heat sources inside huddled together. Had Hermione and Ron followed him? At least they should be safe in there, especially with a dead body blocking the door.
Satisfied, Atum got back to work; when he had ended this threat to the school, he was going to hole up in the library with some nice soothing books, arithmantic descriptions of the magical properties of various types of stone perhaps, comparing basalt with granite maybe, or there was always looking at the potential of man-made non-magical materials, plastics and synthetic fibres. It promised many may hours of study, much use of ink and piles of parchment, as well as wonderfully intricate calculations.
But first he needed to end this…this rodent control. He paced carefully between stacks of broken cupboards and shelves, listening carefully for unfamiliar, ragged breathing, the smell of fear, signs of these invaders to his sanctuary of learning, of knowledge.
He paused a moment. Interesting; it appeared that Malfoy had made the door to the rest of the Castle disappear. Hopefully, his reluctant ally had managed to hide successfully among the Castle's detritus. He could have attempted to escape, but instead, again, he exhibited courage in the face of possible death.
Feral screams and sickly flashes of mustard coloured magic came towards him as the one woman member of the invasion party ran towards him.
Swatting the spells aside, he created a swirl of shimmering flashing lights, flinging them in the witch's face as he brought his blade around in a deadly arc, neatly bisecting the Death Eater. Was that Bellatrix Lestrange? He cautiously poked the mask aside with the tip of his khopesh; it appeared to be so. Well, she was a bit of let down, but not as much a let-down as Fenrir Greyback had been.
Atum sighed with disappointment; nine down, four to go.
OOOOOO
"Well, that's unusual," Hermione commented, her slice of buttered toast half-way to her mouth.
Atum and Luna looked up from their books, blinking in puzzlement at the way Hermione and Ron twitched nervously. Turning, they joined everyone else in watching the drama currently unfolding, unusually, at the Slytherin table. One of the more senior prefects appeared to be comforting a little first year who was in floods of tears, a crumpled letter clutched in one hand.
Obviously one of the invaders from last night had been noticed missing, or it was possible that he (maybe even she, after all someone must care about Bellatrix Lestrange) had had their mortal status tracked rather as the Weasley family did with that fascinating clock of theirs.
And if one had been noticed missing presumed dead, it wouldn't be too long before someone started asking problematic questions. Not likely that they were to find answers, but it would still make the Death Eaters more cautious, wary, likely to run and hide, or do something risky. He needed them, blast it, to send the warning to his brothers, which meant he and Luna needed to push forward with their plans as soon as they could.
Snape swiftly made his way down from the High Table, looking slightly puzzled. An urgent whispered conversation occurred between the Professor and the prefect, ending with Snape guiding the distraught first year from the hall. The drama now over, the usual din of breakfast resumed.
"That was almost nice," Ron commented thoughtfully, "who knew the miserable git had it in him?"
"Professor Snape is always very professional when it comes to the students," Atum said as he went back to his book.
Ron made a funny strangled noise. Atum looked up at him in concern; was Ron choking? Would he need to leap across the table and give Ron mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? Come to think of it, both Ron and Hermione had been acting rather oddly this morning; pale, with deep shadows under their eyes, they had obviously not slept well, if at all, and then there was the hand wringing. It was as if Ron was trying to scrub his hands with invisible soap. Very odd.
"He's absolutely foul to you Harry, always has been," Ron squeaked, his face pale and slightly sweaty. Beside him, Hermione was giving Atum the look of someone who had suddenly sat down very hard on a hedgehog, but was trying to make the best of things.
Atum shrugged, giving them a cheerful smile. "Professor Snape is a little grumpy, but I've never come to any major harm under his watch."
Ron and Hermione didn't look at all convinced, but Hermione then decided to go on a rant about the six feet of essay on French Wizarding politics of the 19th century (The unusually quick dissemination of the Confundus charm contributed to the wide spread chaos experienced in French muggle politics during the 19th century. Discuss.) that Binns had set the NEWTs students.
Atum just couldn't find it within himself to get excited about the political in-fighting of the Wizarding World. He was sure it was a very worthy branch of study, it was just that he could think of many other things he'd prefer to do instead, including peeling off his own toenails with rusty pliers, if he was being honest.
The bell for first period went off with a tremendous clatter and the noise level of the Great Hall escalated even further as several hundred students frantically moved to the exit all at the same time.
Seizing his opportunity, Atum leaned over to whisper in Luna's ear. "We need to send the message soon," he murmured.
Luna nodded. "Tonight, I've got no homework," she explained with a shrug and a smile, "and if we do it tonight then they won't have time to find alternates to be minions to, or Mr V won't be able to get the energy levels correct."
"True, true," Atum nodded. Looking up, he found Professor Snape glaring at him suspiciously. "Stop lolly-gagging Potter!" the Defence Professor snarled, "it's not as if I can give you any more detention!" He smirked. "You'd need a time turner to fit it in."
"See you later, Not-Harry," Luna smiled as she walked past him to class. Atum sighed heavily. It was a good thing he didn't need much sleep. Looking around, he found to his surprise Ron and Hermione had disappeared. Normally, he couldn't get rid of them, they were like burrs or those little blood-sucking tick creatures, but less likely to spread disease, and they seemed so unhappy this morning, not like their normal selves at all. All right, last night with the invasion of Death Eaters had been rather more violent than normal, but it hadn't been that bad…had it?
Maybe they just needed a good joke to cheer them up.
OOOOOO
They hunkered down below the blocked off windows in the ritual room listening to Professor Snape's growls and mutters as he stormed around the forge looking for any sign of them.
Atum sighed softly to himself, giving Luna an apologetic smile when she silently hushed him. They'd almost got away with this, having successfully slipped past Snape several times on their way to the Blacksmith's yard, making it to the concealed ritual room with the suspicious and increasingly frustrated Professor none the wiser. That was when they realised they'd made an important blunder while constructing the ritual room itself. They'd forgotten to make it sound proof.
Luna tugged at his arm urgently, as Snape began to rap on the walls, growling to himself. He was currently the other side of the forge, but was single-mindedly working his way around. Frowning in puzzlement, Atum watched as Luna pointed to the table and began miming waving a wand with her hands. Of course, that was brilliant. Atum smiled brightly at Luna, as he slowly eased himself into place, Luna tip-toeing round the table.
She gave him a thumbs-up after giving the ritual circle a quick check. Nodding, Atum began his part, the slumbering ritual waking under their ministrations. Now to persuade Mr V, as Luna liked to call him, to play his part. Shaping his thoughts carefully, honing his will to a diamond point he mentally jabbed at the fragment of soul contained within the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Battered and broken by months of this sort of treatment, the sliver of soul within quickly capitulated to his will.
Outside in the Forge, Snape yelped in pain, swearing loudly, a clatter of sound as he kicked something hard, and then the retreating footsteps as the frustrated man stormed away.
"That was brilliant, Luna," Atum said.
Luna gave him a bright smile. "Shall we get down to business then?"
oOo
Of all the times for the Dark Lord to signal for his presence, Snape raged to himself as he stormed down to Hogwarts' front gates, his arm still prickling with pain. This did not bode well, not well at all, he grumbled to himself as he shrugged his Death Eater robe on. Shoving his mask in place, he apparated away with a booming crack.
When he arrived, Malfoy Manor was doing a fine impression of a kicked over beehive. Had the Dark Lord called everyone with the Mark then? Must be something major then, some news or task or…Lucius caught his eye. He was looking pale and haggard and, Snape did a double-take, his robes were stained, slightly frayed round the hems. There was even a hint of body odour. The normally proud and vain man was most definitely not himself.
But there was no time to talk as everyone was ushered into the ruined husk of the Ballroom. To Snape's growing unease the centre of the floor was now taken up by a large ritual circle burnt permanently into Lucius's expensive exotic hard-wood parquet floor. It was triple layered and horribly complicated looking, definitely Mastery level, and also…Snape frowned to himself, strangely familiar. Where had he seen something like this before?
"Today," the Dark Lord roared, "today, we are going to summon new allies to aid us in our righteous struggle against the Muggle taint." He cackled with laughter, the Death Eaters around the ballroom wincing as they tried to blend in with their surroundings, tried to look innocuous and harmless, beneath their master's notice.
"It will be my greatest triumph," the Dark Lord gloated, "a miracle of Magic!"
Snape groaned inwardly. He could just see all the ways this could go pear-shaped. Did the Dark Lord even know what these "allies" were? What their intentions would be? He could just see some sort of strange and angry cousin of the dragons being summoned into Malfoy Manor and running amok, leaving a trail of dismembered people in its wake as it fought its way out, and of course in all the turmoil the Dark Lord would bog off and leave them all to it, leaving Lucius to the (non-existent) mercy of the Aurors.
Wonderful. He grimaced as some idiot with a colossal head stood in front of him, either Crabbe or Goyle Senior. They were virtually indistinguishable. That was strange; normally at a gathering like this, Bellatrix would be highly visible, cackling to herself. Maybe there was some other more secretive mission the Dark Lord had sent her on. There had been some strange rumours flying around. No time to worry about it now.
Probably best for his continued good health to stay at the back and allow all the idiots to push to the front. If anything went wrong they would act as a nice protective barrier for him. Buy him a few minutes to get to safety.
His robes swirling impressively around him, the Dark Lord carefully stepped into the centre of the circle. Crouching down, he delicately placed something into the middle of the circle. Snape craned his neck slightly to get a better look, but then wished he hadn't.
It was a small slab of granite, covered in swirls of lines and runes. Oh hell! Snape could practically feel the bottom of his stomach drop out, feel the cold sweat begin to make its way down his spine. "Potter and Lovegood," he growled to himself, oblivious to the odd look Lucius sent his way.
How had they done it? How the hell had they managed to bend the will of the darkest Dark Lord in several centuries to their own devious plans? It was insane, they were school children, for Merlin's sake. But considering their success rate for causing mayhem, chaos and general destruction, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised.
He wiped his hands nervously on his robes, cursing the nervous tic. There was only one thing for it; he sidled closer to Lucius. "We need to leave," he quietly muttered to his friends, "as soon as we can physically manage it."
Lucius gave him a questioning glance. "Are you sure?" he muttered back. "I'm not at all familiar with this ritual." Snape could almost hear the puzzled frown in his voice. "Is that a ward stone? Why would it need a ward stone?" Lucius shook his head in puzzlement.
Snape licked his lips, thankful for the mask hiding his strained expression. "Trust me," he said quietly, "this is not a safe place to be."
"It's not a ward stone is it?" Lucius's head tilted slightly. "It's something dangerous and arcane the Dark Lord is embarking on, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure about arcane," Snape muttered, cautiously looking around, "but definitely dangerous." He slipped further to the back of the room as the Dark Lord called out orders, placing teams of people to energise the ritual circle after the granite slab had been activated.
"…greet the Sky-Angels as they come through…"
Snape frowned, "Sky-Angels"? Sounded like more of Lovegood's nonsense, but knowing her and bloody Potter there probably was something behind it, some grain of terrifying mind curdling truth. He didn't plan to stay around long enough to find out.
"Come on, he tugged Lucius's sleeve, "we're going."
Lucius resisted for a moment, fearful of the Dark Lord's anger, but the not-quite-human was in full rant as he obsessed over the preparations of his ritual, standing beside the ominous lump of granite.
They hurried along the slightly shabby, rubbish strewn corridors of Malfoy Manor, heading towards a back entrance that led out onto the private family gardens.
"Narcissa," Lucius hissed, freezing in his steps, "I can't leave without her."
Snape nearly walked into a wall. Guilt washed over him, they had to get the Lady Malfoy out if they could. Lucius was many things, a double-crossing bastard, a self-obsessed narcissist, but he adored his wife and if anything happened to her, anything Lucius felt he could have somehow prevented, if only…Snape carefully steered his thoughts away from that particular precipice. The last thing he needed at the moment was to do the emotional equivalent of standing on a muggle land mine.
"Don't just stand there," Snape growled, giving his friend a small shove, "lead the way."
Lucius nodded, finally unfreezing, scuttling down a corridor and into a slightly grander part of the house and the second-best staircase. The two men sprinted upwards, their steps muffled by the carpet. Down a corridor and through a door led them into an elegant and delicately decorated sitting room. "Narcissa," Lucius called, his voice strained and urgent.
A muffled sound came from the room beyond. Snape and Lucius exchanged looks. This could not be good. Pulling out their wands they approached the door to the dressing room cautiously. It was worse than they thought.
Narcissa crouched on her dressing table, frilly dressing gown pulled around her legs, her wand in a shaking hand pointed at the large and overly interested snake that lounged on the floor by an over-turned chair.
"Nagini," Lucius hissed, Snape cursed to himself silently, this was the very last thing they needed at the moment. "We don't have time for this," he snarled. With a flick of his wand he attempted to animate the carpet Nagini lay on, wrapping her struggling form within it. Lucius joined in with goodness knew what, but the resulting mess was quite spectacular, with parts of the carpet fused to the floor, itself and even Nagini's tail.
Seeing her opportunity, Narcissa jumped down from the dressing table and hurdled the struggling mess in a flurry of pink silk and taffeta. She skidded slightly on landing but recovered nicely as she dashed behind Lucius and to comparative safety. "That evil snake," she exclaimed obviously upset, "he brought it up here."
Lucius closed his eyes, expression strained he covered his wife's hand with his own, as she sagged against his back in relief.
"We need to get out of here, now," Snape said not feeling the slightest bit sorry for spoiling their moment.
They started for the staircase, thundering down it, not now if they were heard. Snape's sense of urgency rising all the while. Was it him or was the background of magic growing more intense? There was definitely a distinct smell of ozone now perceptible.
"Which door?" Lucius looked around frantically.
"The kitchens are closest," Narcissa pointed out.
"We don't have time," Snape said as he threw a blasting hex at a window. Kicking more of the glass loose, he leaped over the sill and into a rose-bed, which predictably began to snag at his robes. Narcissa looked very unsure as the two men helped her slowly climb over and into the garden, Lucius heaving himself over after her.
"Come on," Snape said urgently, "can't you hear that?"
The two Malfoys gave him odd looks. "That funny whining noise, do you mean?" Narcissa asked, as she gingerly picked her way down the carefully tended gravel path.
"Yes, the whining noise." Snape grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a run. "We need to get out of here before we end up being vaporised."
Beside them, Lucius looked back at the house, his eyes growing wide as he yelped in horror. Breaking into a sprint, he stormed past, Snape urgently trying to keep pace, dragging the bewildered and unhappy Narcissa with him.
They crashed through into an ornamental wooded area and then out into more open fields, Lucius suddenly disappearing with a surprised shout and some fluent swearing.
"Brilliant, the ha-ha," Snape exclaimed. It was the first piece of decent luck he'd had all evening. He shoved Narcissa over, only smirking slightly when she landed heavily on top of Lucius. Risking a look back, he nearly regretted it. The Manor was gone, swallowing up in a dome of shimmering sun-bright light that was steadily racing towards him, absorbing everything in its path.
He launched himself down into the ha-ha, landing with a squelch as he threw himself onto the ground, uncaring of the mud that started seeping up his sleeves. The humming, shimmering light rushed over them, the sheer sense of magic, of the other overwhelming.
oOo
Gathering up a handful of raw "stuff", Atum shaped it into a dart, small but hardy, and most likely to survive the journey to Horemheb's brothers. Inscribed with warnings, it was as clear as he could get it. Reaching out to the Dark Lord's mind, he passed it along, pushing and shaping the man's will to do as he wished.
The Dark Lord paused a moment, admiring the handiwork of the immaterial object. "Launch it," Atum pushed, "do it!" Voldemort hesitated a moment, reluctant to lose the beautiful thing only he could see, before pulling his arm back and flicking it forward…
…Atum blinked in surprise as the reality of the Ritual room reasserted itself. He suddenly became very aware of the chilly breeze playing over the back of his ankles, and the smell of scorched wood as Ravenclaw's diadem burnt its way into the table.
"Are you all right?" Luna asked as she surreptitiously checked him for visible injuries.
"I…I think so," Atum sighed, "I'm not sure what happened there. The Dark Lord just seemed to…disappear…and it doesn't seem to have done this fragment of his soul much good. There was a certain amount of backlash…"
"Did it work?"
Thinking about those last few moments in the Dark Lord's mind…
"I'm not entirely sure," Atum sighed, "he was about to release the message, I think, but after that…I don't know. It's possible he could have managed it, but I can't be certain." He shook his head in frustration.
"And we won't be able to use this method again either," Luna said sadly as she poked the diadem with her wand.
Atum considered the sad remains of the Dark Lord for a moment. "It's no use as a conduit anymore, but I'm sure we could do other things with it," he smiled. "I've got an interesting idea."
Luna perked up.
oOo
It was the shaking that disturbed him. Severus glowered, ready to tell who or what that was disturbing his rest exactly what he thought of them.
"Severus," the annoying person shouted as they gave him another rough shake, "Severus."
He snarled, swiping at the annoying hand, muttering about ill-mannered idiots who thought to disturb his rest.
"He's awake," a female voice said, obviously amused.
That was strange. Snape slowly blinked his eyes open to find a very muddy Nacissa and Lucius staring down at him. At some point Lucius must have removed his Death Eater robes, wrapping the ridiculous garment around his wife.
"We're alive," Snape intelligently said as he sat up looking around in surprise.
"Yes," Narcissa said, "I think the ha-ha saved our lives. It was such a good thing you found it, dear," she smiled up at Lucius who looked quite surprised and pleased underneath his embarrassment.
Parts of the ha-ha had collapsed, and they had come disturbingly close to being buried alive. Dragging himself to his feet, Snape turned slowly on the spot, taking in the devastation with a sense of growing horror.
Other the thin strip they were standing in, as far as he could see everything living had been destroyed, though if he squinted there were some sheered off trees over there, a sense of green living stuff beyond them, but it must be a mile away, well off the Malfoy's property. Of Malfoy Manor…
He pulled himself up onto the crumbling edge of the ha-ha. There was no sign it had ever existed. The Manor and all its associated buildings and grounds were completely gone as if they'd never existed. In their place was now a deep crater, and suspended above it…
"What in Merlin's nameis that?" Lucius asked as he pulled himself up beside him, staring forlornly at the devastation.
Suspended like a miniature twin of the Sun was a glowing shimmering light surrounded by a sphere of floating debris that span lazily as it orbited this new centre of gravity.
Snape stared; oh, he'd got them now. Potter and Lovegood wouldn't know what had hit them when he'd finished with them. A thought occurred to him. Wouldn't this mean fewer Unspeakables at Hogwarts, or would they get so excited that they took Potter and Lovegood away to do strange and terrible experiments on them? Snape grinned to himself. That would be one for the pensive.
A howling roar came overhead as something dark shot past at terrifying speed, quickly followed by another.
"Merlin's saggy scrotum," Snape exclaimed as he ducked reflexively, "Muggles! We need to get out of here now!"
"Muggles?" Lucius looked bewildered, "but, but…"
"Yes, they have flying machines," Snape growled, "very powerful, dangerous flying machines. We need to get away before anymore arrive."
"But where?" Lucius was beginning to panic.
"Hogwarts," Snape said decisively.
"Hogwarts," Narcissa agreed, "firstly, they have a decent healer there and my feet are a mess. Secondly, we can make sure Draco is alive and in good health." She glared at Snape, managing to look fearsome despite the layer of mud.
"I can assure you Draco was very much alive and breathing earlier this evening," Snape said as he cautiously inched away.
OOOOOO
This was…Snape paused; actually, he had a feeling it would be a very long time before the real scale of the fallout from last night's events would be truly appreciated, if they ever were. Because this was all about last night's incident.
To his great relief (and his surprise if he was being honest) the Houses were being respectful of the Slytherins' obvious distress, even the Gryffindors, which was something of an Earth-shattering surprise, though he suspected Potter might have something to do with that.
He looked over to the Gryffindor table, glaring at the ridiculously large shape of Potter looming over the rest of the table, the pale blonde of Lovegood's hair visible beside him. Between them sat a third year…Alice Pendle…so-so at Potions, a little better at Defence…and yes, her father had been present at the Manor last night…
He gritted his teeth as yet another student approached him, a letter clutched to his chest with trembling hands.
"Mr Goyle," Snape sighed; yet another orphan, "you have received news I see."
Goyle nodded, his face pale and for once full of emotion; he looked on the verge of tears. "My Mum's having a memorial service for Dad in a few days' time," he drew a shuddering breath, "would it be possible…could I…" He trailed off, desperate and sad.
"I will see what can be done," Snape said. "Make a note of the day and leave it on my desk. I will make arrangements."
"Thanks sir." Goyle gave him a watery smile full of gratitude. Snape watched him retreat back to his friends, swallowing back a little bit of bile at the whole cloying sentimentality of the thing. Crabbe had actually broken into tears and was now sobbing on Malfoy's shoulder; Malfoy, obviously discomfited by the display of emotion, was hesitantly patting his back.
Today was going to be a very long day, Snape thought as he strode back to the Staff table, the Headmaster's chair notably vacant. There had apparently been an emergency at the Ministry that had required Dumbledore's attention earlier this morning and Snape a feeling it had had a lot to do with those muggle jet-planes. Oh, to be a fly on the wall of the Wizengamot. Did any of those wizened old biddies even know what a jet-plane was?
"Draco!" a voice called from the doors. Snape and most of the rest of the Hall turned in surprise to see Lucius Malfoy looked older and more informal than anyone had seen in their lives striding up the Hall towards his son.
"Father," Draco said as he stood trying to school his features into a suitably neutral and serious expression, only to yelp in surprise as his normally stoic and cold father flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly.
"Oh, Draco," Lucius whispered, voice hoarse with emotion, "I thought…I thought that I would never see you again!" He held Draco at arm's length, a Draco who was now a spectacular shade of Weasley red. "My precious son," Lucius said as he wrapped his arms around the mortified Draco again.
Snape bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Lucius was likely to be highly embarrassed by this later; the potential here for a little black-mail was phenomenal.
"…your Mother will be fine. She's up in the Hospital Wing still, her feet were the little worse for wear…"
That was an understatement, Snape thought. Madam Pomfrey had spent several relaxing hours last night with a pair of tweezers and a basin pulling bits of gravel, grass and other debris out of Narcissa's feet.
"…hadn't been for your Uncle Severus we would have been killed by that madman…"
Snape suddenly realised the danger he was in and attempted to back away, but he was too late as Lucius enveloped him in a rib-cracking hug. "Severus," Lucius said, his voice cracking, "I owe…we owe you our lives. If it hadn't been for your bravery…"
He couldn't help but glow at the praise, but really, Minerva was going to be insufferable after this.
A trio of Unspeakables entered the Great Hall as Snape gave Lucius what he hoped looked like a manly back slap; he seemed to appreciate the gesture, anyway.
Carrying unfamiliar boxy instruments the trio of grey robed figures made their way slowly up the hall.
"Ah," one cried out triumphantly, "I think we've located the source of the thaumic saturation."
Snape and Lucius glared at the annoying individual who was now waving his (or her) funny box thing in Lucius's face. "Do you mind," Lucius snapped, slapping the device away, all trace of his good humour apparently vanished.
The Unspeakable seemed completely unperturbed as she (or he) turned the box thingy on Snape. "And you too, sir. Am I to understand that you both somehow survived the implosion at Malfoy Manor last night?"
"Indeed we did," Lucius said rather stiffly.
"An impressive feat indeed," the Unspeakable nodded. "Unfortunately, you were both exposed to unprecedented levels of magical…or thaumantic expressions. It's absolutely vital that you and any other survivors are decontaminated. It's very likely to have an effect on your abilities to cast magic, making your spell-work unpredictable in effect and strength. And that's before we get onto the possible interactions with enchantments, wards and other permanent spell effects."
Snape and Lucius exchanged horrified looks. Had this been a possibility, this thaumantic exposure at the other "little" explosions of the Dreadful Duo, Snape thought, his mind sifting over the horrible possibilities. He turned to glare at Potter's hulking form.
"We don't know how they did it either," the Unspeakable whispered conspiratorially. "Can't wait to recruit them," he (or she) sighed happily.
"You do realise that the Ministry will very quickly turn into a smoking hole in the ground?" Snape pointed out.
"I know," the Unspeakable squeaked excitedly, "isn't it brilliant!?"
Insane, absolutely insane, Snape shook his head sadly.
OOOOOO
"Where is he?" Draco demanded. Goyle shrugged looking helpless. Snorting in disgust, Draco turned and stormed into their dormitory. Where could that useless lump Crabbe have got to? It wasn't like he'd got hobbies or even a grasp on his homework, so the library was an unlikely location…the curtains were drawn around Crabbe's bed; that was strange. Draco waded through the detritus of grubby clothing and abandoned parchment, broken quills and school books.
"That might not be…" Goyle began to say, but Draco ignored him, flinging the bed curtains open in a dramatic gesture.
There was a terrified squawk, Draco wasn't sure whether it was his own or Crabbe's, because Crabbe had been…having some intimate time (as Father would say) or flaying the sausage as some of the Death Eaters liked to call it, and he was holding, clutching…
"That's one of Potter's loin cloths," Draco exclaimed, torn between horror and disgust, "if he finds out…"
Crabbe looked utterly stricken and near tears. Draco didn't feel the least bit sympathetic, while Goyle had developed a sudden and intense interest in the ceiling.
"You've got a massive crush on him, haven't you?" Goyle said sympathetically.
Crabbe looked down, nodding sadly.
"Not surprised," Goyle said.
Draco and Crabbe stared at him in surprise.
"Well, he is very rich," Goyle explained, "once he inherits, and you can't deny his magical power and the fact he knows how to use it…and he's pretty good looking too," he shrugged.
Draco stared in disbelief. Goyle was actually making sense, about relationships too. The world had obviously gone bonkers while he wasn't watching.
"Come on" Goyle pleaded, "he's a far better catch than Tristan Whittaker."
Tristan Whittaker? Draco stared in puzzlement. Oh. Sixth year, Ravenclaw, very rich family. Fortune built on warding and the international potions ingredient trade. Always had the best of everything. "I see what you mean," he said slowly, "brains of a gnat, possibly an incontinent toad somewhere a few generations back."
"Exactly," Goyle said, "Potter's a way better catch really, even though he's meant to be a half-blood. Though considering how tall he's getting…makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"Maybe," Draco conceded. "He's certainly powerful. He's also dangerous and unpredictable. Crabbe, pull your pants up," he snapped, "we're going to be late for dinner."
oOo
"We won't rat you out," Goyle murmured reassuringly on the other side of Crabbe. Malfoy rubbed his eyes; for Merlin's sake, he turned away from the embarrassing soap opera occurring beside him. At the High Table his parents were sat beside Uncle Sev, he watched a moment, Father deep in conversation with the other man. Mother looked up a moment from her meal, saw him watching and smiled happily, giving him a little wave.
He ducked down face heating up in embarrassment. How he had fallen; his "friends" were embarrassing, he'd actually debased himself to the point of allying with a Potter, and now his parents were trying to out Weasley the Weasleys. Could life get any worse?
A shriek of fright came from down the table. Draco jerked round, to see, to his horror, an iridescent rainbow of magic bearing down on him. "What the…" he yelled, before shrieking (to his later embarrassment) as he was shot up into the air. To his considerable relief, the trip back down was much more pleasant, a gentle stomach settling drift, surrounded by slowly dissipating lavender hued clouds.
By the time he settled back on to the bench again, the wave had passed by and was now affecting the High Table. Considering Uncle Sev's bellow of "POTTER!" someone was in big trouble.
Swivelling on the bench, Draco looked over the tables to where Potter was sitting with the other Gryffindors, with the absolutely worst attempt at an innocent expression he'd ever seen. Draco snorted; did the giant idiot actually want to get caught?
Apparently so. He didn't even flinch as Uncle Sev stalked over to the Gryffindor table doing a really good impression of an outraged vulture. This was turning out to be a good evening after all. Nothing like watching Potter rack up impossible quantities of detention to make him feel all warm and gooey inside.
But then the Headmaster had to interfere. Draco glared at the elderly man's lob-sided figure; demented old spoil-sport. Deciding to get a better look, he scurried half-bent round the Ravenclaw table and along its length, crossing over to Hufflepuff and plonking himself down in a conveniently spaced empty spot which guaranteed him a grandstand view of the coming drama. Hannah Abbot gave him an unimpressed stare, but he ignored her as Uncle Sev loomed beside the target of his anger.
"Precisely what were you trying to achieve?" Snape hissed managing to look down his nose at Potter, despite currently being at eye level with him.
Potter seemed to have given up his pretence at innocence and was now looking rather guilty, which in Draco's opinion didn't really suit him. An image of gleaming copper skin, spotted with blood, and a flashing blade, as methodical as the harvest-man's scythe, flashed through his mind. Draco swallowed it away; no, guilt didn't suit Potter at all.
"I was…trying to bring some cheer," Potter rumbled softly, "it seems there has been nothing but sorrow recently. I thought a prank would go some small way to remedy that."
"Of all the stupid, idiotic…" Snape growled, his muttering fading away into a disgusted grumble, the man unable to articulate his furious disgust. Draco had to stifle a laugh.
"My word," Dumbledore sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Yet again it seems we have something of a quandary…and I was so hoping that you would be able to enjoy this last, detention free week of school in a constructive manner. Hmm…" He stared at Potter over the top of his glasses.
Draco held his breath in anticipation. Detention? Dramatic loss of points maybe? He turned to eye the hourglasses; that would be brilliant, would put Slytherin in the lead by miles.
"…an essay on the appropriateness, or not, of pranking on this particular occasion," the Headmaster droned on. Draco sighed in disgust. "Three and a half feet in length, I think, handed into my office in four days' time, young man." He gave Potter another severe look.
Draco turned away in disappointment. An essay. That wasn't much of a punishment. As he sloped back to the Slytherin table, he noticed some of the Ravenclaws had hunkered down on the floor and were busily examining the underside of their bench, busily scrawling something on parchment amid excited whispers and mutters of "brilliant!"
Wouldn't it be terrifying if the Claws actually began pranking instead of hiding behind their books and watching the world from their intellectual ivory tower? Draco gave himself a shake, banishing the dreadful thought; he had enough fuel for nightmares at the moment without adding to it.
OOOOOO
"I suppose I could take it home with me," Luna said as she carefully adjusted a connection inside the belly of the wire cat that lay oddly sprawled in the old potions bench. "How goes the essay?" she asked looking up at Atum's pensive form hunched at the other end of the desk, quill tapping against his cheek.
"I don't think ethics is really my things," he said sadly. "Do my motivations behind an action matter more than the outcome of my actions, or even other people's responses to my actions? I don't really understand," he sighed, "and when Professor Snape looked at what I'd written so far, he said I hadn't answered the question, so…"
"Oh, well that's awkward."
"Particularly since I've got to hand it in tomorrow," Atum sighed again, gazing wistfully at the wire cat. "How goes the pseudo-feline?"
Luna gave it a thoughtful poke with her wand before slightly adjusting a few more connections, "I think…yes, I think that might do it," she said, "now we just need to activate it."
Surging eagerly to his feet, Atum made his way round the table. "A delicate touch, I think," he said as he gently touched a truncheon-like finger to the artificial feline's forehead. A spark flared beneath his finger tip, light stuttering and flaring into life in the not-cat's eyes sockets, the wire frame of its body slowly filling with a seeping pool of dark smoke.
The cat's limbed twitched and trembled as it writhed painfully before rolling onto its paws. Obviously highly offended at the position it had found itself in, it began to wash a hind leg.
"Huh, well that certainly seems to have worked," Luna commented.
"The soul fragment does seem to have accepted the new mind-set well," Atum agreed.
The cat glared at them over its shoulder. Stretching elegantly, it leapt down to the floor and began to explore its new surroundings, delicately sniffing in corners and clambering up the dresser. Atum shooed it away from the forge and its heat, much to the cat's disgust. The cat-form huffed loudly, before strolling towards the door and daylight, taking time to sniff an old dead leaf that had blown in from somewhere, and then at a rather shiny and fascinatingly odourful boot.
"What in Merlin's name is this?" Professor Snape growled as he tried to edge away from the overly friendly cat-form as it wound around his ankles croaking fitfully.
oOo
"This does seem to be turning into something of a habit, doesn't it?" Professor Dumbledore gave them a severe look over the top of his glasses.
Snape gave a sarcastic snort from his place by the shelves, ignoring McGonagall's glare.
Atum sighed as Fawkes gently tugged at his hair; and he'd been wanting to run all sorts of test and experiments on the cat-form too. But now that it had been confiscated, his plans were all so much ashes, and considering the Unspeakables were now examining it, it was highly likely he would never see it again.
"My word," one of the Unspeakables exclaimed, "this is absolutely fascinating, it's almost like a neural network but spread throughout its entire body…powered by…" He (or she) broke off in puzzlement.
The other Unspeakables gathered closer to the cat-form. It was currently putting up with all the fuss and attention, but it was clear that biting was going to be an option very soon. One of the Unspeakables straightened up abruptly, wand in hand, staring intently at Atum and Luna.
"Excuse us a moment," the Unspeakable said to the Headmaster as she (or he) gathered his (or her) colleagues round, to have a frantic and hushed conference. One of them cast a silencing ward, plunging the Headmaster's office into silence.
"I wonder what that was all about," McGonagall watched them with a raised eyebrow, "nothing good, I'll warrant."
The Headmaster nodded as he forlornly watched the cat-form. It had taken a liking to one of his quills and was now nuzzling it, before giving a good chew, rolling onto its side so it could peddle the writing implement with its back paws.
"This is why, Albus," Professor McGonagall hissed quietly, "this is why you need to stay another year."
The Headmaster sunk down in his chair looking resigned and put upon. "Minerva, you're more than capable of dealing with both of them, together. I have complete faith in you…and I really want to retire. I'm exhausted and this year has been particularly draining."
Atum tried to not look their way. There were moments when he really wished that his hearing wasn't quite so acute.
"Just one more year," Professor McGonagall pleaded quietly, "just one, until he's left. That's all I'm asking for."
The quill snapped in half with a nasty little crunching sound, the cat-form looking at it in bewilderment before searching for more entertainment among the piles of documents, parchment and other items on the desk. Fawkes watched the display dismissively from his perch on Atum's shoulder.
"Mr Potter," Professor Dumbledore said carefully, "I have only read about such things as this and in the most esoteric of books, but what I do understand is that they require some sort of initial source of life to give them…life."
The cat-form knocked over the jar of quills with a clatter as it attempted to hook more out.
"In this case, I believe a cat." The Headmaster stared at them coldly. "Have no doubt that if that is so, I will find out exactly whose pet it was. There will be repercussions."
Luna looked up at Atum nervously. "Sir," Atum said gravely, "I assure you, neither of us have taken a life to give a life to the cat-form. Rather, we studied the behaviour and psychology of cats by making friends with them as a part of this project."
McGonagall sniffed disapprovingly. "But you did do something," she said crisply.
Behind them Snape shifted, stiffening. Stalking round, he came to a halt beside the cat form which had vacated the Headmaster's desk, settling in a patch of sunlight on one of the many spindly legged tables that dotted the office. It appeared to be quite comfortable, despite having to contort itself around a silvery filigree instrument that looked like a cross between a bird-cage and an egg-whisk.
The instrument span and whistled to itself, puffing pink smoke, but the cat-form ignored it as it basked, paws sprawling over the edge of the table every which way.
Snape bent over it, examining its form closely. Feeling the warmth of the sunlight blocked, it glared indignantly, croaking loudly and reaching out with hooked claws. Ignoring the cat-form's protests, Snape prodded it with his wand, wrenching it away when the cat-form attempted to bite it in half. Atum and Luna watched carefully as the Professor's expression turned from angry puzzlement to carefully flat and blank.
"What is it, Severus?" the Headmaster asked, obviously eager for answers, as he tried one-handedly to right the mess the cat-form had made of his desk. Professor Snape took a moment to consider his answer. "I'm sure it's nothing, just a…quirk…the work of untrained children. The Unspeakables are quite capable of handling it, I'm sure."
The Headmaster looked a little put-out and frustrated by the answer. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Snape turned to the window and the view of the forest. "Have you tried asking the Unspeakables?"
Looking rather peeved, Dumbledore glared at the silent huddle of Unspeakables, who were now wildly gesticulating at one another. Apparently they weren't a particularly good source of information, Atum mused, so a much more secretive organisation than he'd originally thought. Were they a cult of knowledge, like the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars? Did they worship a personification of learning? It would explain the robes and the hidden identities, everyone equal before the altar of wisdom. He rather liked that.
"That's settled then," one of the Unspeakables announced, as the silencing ward popped like a bubble, "the cat-golem stays here for the time being."
"Excuse me," Dumbledore interrupted, "but is it likely to be a potential risk? I do have the safety of the school to consider you understand."
"Well, of course," the Unspeakable nodded sagely, "we're pretty certain that kitty-golem here is completely safe…and actively wants to be here… that's if we got out tests right. It should be fine, in any case." Despite the enveloping covering of his (or her) robes, Atum was fairly certain that the Unspeakable was trying to give them all a reassuring grin. It didn't seem to be working.
"Now that's sorted," the Unspeakable rubbed her (or his) hands together almost in glee. Atum and Luna watched him (or her) warily as she (or he) approached.
"So kids," the Unspeakable bounced over, his (or her) attire failing to hide her (or his) enthusiasm, "any thoughts on your careers plans after you leave Hogwarts?"
OOOOOO
The platform teemed with excited students and equally excited parents reunited after months apart, the noise as they caught up with one another an almost physical thing. Atum sighed heavily as he took it all in, shifting the two trunks in addition to his kit-bag distractedly. It was times like this when he really felt alone, aching for all the people he'd lost or seemingly vaguely misplaced; both parts of him.
"Whoa, Harry," a familiar voice said beside him, "we'd heard you'd grown, but…whoa."
Atum looked around and then down to find one of the Weasley Twins, Fred (or George, he wasn't entirely sure) staring up at him wide-eyed. He shifted the trunks again so he could shake George (or Fred's) hand. "It's good to see you again," he smiled, "I take it business is good?"
Fred (or George) looked down at his bright green dragon-hide jacket a moment. "Yeah, it's been pretty good," he grinned, before frowning thoughtfully. "Is that two Ravenclaw trunks?"
"Oh err…yes," Atum gave him a slightly bashful smile, "I got one last summer when my old trunk disintegrated, but then I acquired so many new books over the school year I had to get another one. Professor Snape really helped me there."
George (or Fred) gave him a funny look. "Oh, so that's why we saw Snape storming down Diagon Alley swearing a blue streak then."
"Uhm…" Atum had to admit he didn't remember that.
"It was pretty impressive," Fred (or George) carried on happily, "we just figured the Apothecary had run out of powdered bicorn horn or something."
The other Weasley offspring descended then, Hermione and Luna in their midst.
"Whoa, Harry," George (or Fred) said laughing, "engorgio charm go wrong? Hey, Gred," he nudged his twin, "think of it," he waved a hand at an invisible horizon, "be as great as Harry Potter the boy-who-lived, take the larger-than-life lozenge."
Forge (or was that Gred) gave it some thought. "Be good for parties, wouldn't it?" The two huddled together as they hashed out a possible new product, their conversation becoming increasingly technical, to Atum's increasing interest.
"You're banned from Potions experiments, remember?" Luna elbowed him in the hip.
"Harry," Hermione said sharply, as she pointedly glared at his trunk collection, "you do realise that you have to take the library books back at the end of term. Otherwise Madam Pince won't ever let you in again." She glared up at him, her arms crossed angrily over her chest.
Of course he'd taken back his library books, Atum thought indignantly. "These are all mine," he explained, clutching the two trunks protectively to his chest. "Jealousy is unbecoming of you," he added tartly.
Hermione's glare became nastier. "And you're not wearing muggle clothes." Ron hastily covered up his snigger with a cough. Atum ignored her. There wasn't much he could do about the clothing situation as, much to his frustration, he was still growing.
"I hope you two aren't up to trouble," came a familiar hectoring voice, "I know you run your own business now but there are still such things are laws you know…oh, Harry!" Mrs Weasley did a double-take beaming up at him in delight. "I knew you'd grow with some proper food," she sighed happily, "look at you, all tall and strong now."
Atum found himself frozen in place, the unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation of panic beginning to well up, as Mrs Weasley tried to adjust the fall of his robes. This was definitely well out of Horemheb's field of experience, and frankly, Harry's memories weren't much help either. He looked around frantically for an escape route among the grinning faces. Beyond them stood the exit to King's Cross proper and the muggle world.
Atum began to edge that way, much to Mrs Weasley's displeasure. "I'm sorry, but I've really got to go. I'm sure the Dursleys are waiting for me."
"I'll come with you," Luna piped up, "I've got something important to ask you."
oOo
The muggle side of King's Cross was teeming with people, tourists and holiday makers, students on their way home, people piled up bulging rucksacks for music festivals and walking holidays. A man on a uni-cycle went past. In some ways, they were nuttier than the magical lot; Atum almost didn't attract any notice in his floor length blood red robes.
He scanned the crowd carefully for the Dursleys' familiar faces among the throng. There they were, Uncle Vernon had just ducked behind that column. Fixing on their location, Atum plunged into the crowd, his robes billowing around him, Luna following closely in his wake. "Aunt Petunia," he boomed cheerfully, oblivious to the people turning to stare.
Aunt Petunia gave him a sickly smile as he dumped the trunks down beside her so he could envelope her in a huge hug. Dudley watched him with wide eyes, breaking into a grin. "Hey, Harry, haven't you stopped growing yet?"
Atum shook his head sadly. "No, not yet." Couldn't people think of something more original to ask?
"You can let go now," Aunt Petunia gasped. Atum let her go, feeling a little guilty at her now slightly rumpled appearance.
Uncle Vernon crept out from behind the pillar looking horrified and outraged. "The bloody brat won't fit in the car," he hissed to Aunt Petunia, "what are we going to do? I'm not paying for a bloody taxi or what-not for him."
Aunt Petunia glared at him, and a hushed and very angry argument began, watched by Atum, and Dudley who seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment. Beyond them, a number of security personal began to take a great deal of interest, edging closer while trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"I made a little something for you," Luna said as she rooted through her bag.
"Is this the something important you mentioned?" Atum asked not taking his eyes away from the fascinating argument. Would it end before Uncle Vernon's blood pressure got the better of him? Enquiring minds wanted to know.
"Oh no," she said as she pulled the something out of her bag. Dudley gave it a very dubious look. "It's a fairy-lure," she explained, "for your garden."
She handed the three foot long pole over. Atum gave it an experimental shake admiring the shimmering tinsel and the little bells and windmills that decorated its top. "It might not attract fairies in a muggle area, but you should at least get a boring old gnome or something."
"Should make an interesting summer project." Atum gave it another shake.
"Erm, how does it attract stuff?" Dudley asked. "I mean, I could make something like that, though it wouldn't be as neat. I mean…it doesn't look particularly magical," he finished lamely as they stared at him.
Atum and Luna exchanged a look. "Now, that is a good question," Luna said, "would you like to get involved? I'm Not-Harry's best-friend and research partner and you must be Not-Harry's cousin," she shook Dudley's hand, "it would be wonderful to have a non-magical control for our research."
Dudley looked between them nervously. "Erm…right…hi, nice to meet you…I think."
"So what was the something you wanted to tell me about?" Atum watched the excited Luna with a smile.
"Oh yes, Daddy and I are going to Sweden this summer on another expedition for the Crumple-horned Snorkack," Luna said happily, as they watched Uncle Vernon wildly waving his arms at an unimpressed Aunt Petunia, his face busily shading dark purple. "Daddy and I were wondering whether you would like to join us. It would be quite educational."
Atum considered the offer a moment as one of the security people sidled closer to Uncle Vernon, radio in hand. "That sounds wonderful, Not-Luna, I'd like that very much."
Luna beamed up at him in delight. "Well, that's settled then."