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
Thaums are from Terry Prachett's Discworld. I'm a little bit of fan so I couldn't resist :-)
Chapter 4
Where had the pair of little brats hidden themselves? Snape growled to himself, as he stalked along a corridor on the ground floor. He'd taken to stalking them the last few days more than ever, dogging their steps at every opportunity that presented itself, and like clockwork they disappeared somewhere around…here. He slowed to a halt by an old tapestry. Tweaking it aside with his wand, he was presented with a suspiciously innocuous looking stone wall. Wasn't this where one of the old service passages came out? He gave the wall a few experimental taps with his wand. Huh, maybe not, but that was an idea. If he remembered rightly, there was another courtyard this side of the Castle with buildings tasked to various activities, long abandoned and out of use, even as a dumping ground for rubbish from other parts of the Castle.
Didn't Filch still use some of the old service passages? Somewhere near the staff entrance to the Great Hall, if he remembered correctly. He strode off purposefully, students diving out of his way as he reached more populated areas of the Castle.
When he got his hands on Potter and his little co-conspirator, he was going to confiscate and destroy every single odd device, object, notebook, tome, hell, even socks if he could get away with it, up to and including their wands if it could be arranged. What in Merlin's name did they think they were doing poking into other people's minds like that? And more potentially horrifyingly, how had they done it?
Let's see them wreak that kind of havoc without their wands, he grinned to himself, oblivious of the terrified looks of a small group of Hufflepuff second years.
"Professor….Professor Snape!"
Snape growled in frustration, clenching his hands as he came to an abrupt halt, whirling on the misbegotten cretin who had dared disturb his Potter hunt.
Draco hurried towards him, hair and robes in disarray. "Professor, could I talk to you about something…momentarily?"
"It had better be important." Snape glowered at the youth, who in his utter arrogance had rejected every offer of help with his oh so important task that he seemed to believe was some sort of huge secret. Not with Bellatrix Lestrange around, it wasn't.
Draco swallowed nervously, grey eyes darting around. "It's…it's about a letter I received this morning." He pulled a fold of parchment from his robes, a highly distinctive seal visible in the red wax that had held it shut.
Ah, the Dark Lord.
"Very well," he snapped, "I will talk to you about this this evening. I believe I'm free at seven o'clock. Do not be late."
Draco looked around desperately, "Uncle Sev…please," he hissed, apparently convinced he wouldn't be overheard, "I'm desperate…"
So the little idiot had finally realised how out of his depth he was. Snape stalked away. "This evening and no sooner."
"But what will I tell my friends?" Draco whined behind him.
He really didn't feel the least bit sympathetic for the stupid boy's plight. "Tell them you have detention, Malfoy."
"What!" the indignant squawk followed him round the corner.
oOo
"…know they're still having a go at you, Luna." Atum looked at his friend with concern.
Luna shook her head fondly as she finished outlining the last rune of the ritual circle with salt, the tarpaulin draped shape of the sleigh lurking behind her. "It's nowhere near as bad," she smiled at him.
"Most of the time I'm with you," she gave him a little grin, "and when I'm in classes, of course, there's little opportunity for anyone to do much. The teachers have made clear what they think about it…so it's mostly Chang and Edgecombe and their friend, whose name I can never remember." She paused for a moment. "Now that I think about it, she's the most boring person I've ever met, utterly unmemorable. It's almost like…like one of those muggle superhero characters with their super-powers, and this girl, hers is being completely and utterly dull." She shrugged. "It's a bit sad really, isn't it?"
Atum had to think about this. Harry had only very rarely come into contact with such things as comics and "super heroes", the Dursleys Senior not really holding with anything that behaved in an inexplicable way. Dudley had not been amused, leading on one memorable occasion to a tantrum of epic proportions over a pair of Spiderman underpants.
"Besides," Luna continued brightly, "they're leaving this year."
"That's not really the point Luna," Atum sighed as he checked the temperature of the fire, "I just feel that if you were more…direct in showing Chang and her friends how little you appreciate their attentions, then they might actually realise the stupidity of their behaviour and concentrate on more constructive activities, like actually studying for their NEWTs."
"Or they'll turn on other targets," Luna pointed out.
"Who may very well hex them blind for their trouble," Atum argued, "and then justifiably claim self-defence."
"It just seems a lot of trouble for very little reward," Luna sighed as she pulled the protective gauntlets from their box on the now cleared dresser. They had had great difficulty finding a pair small enough to fit Luna, not helped by the Hogwarts's suits of armours' tendency to run away once they had realised what was going on. The bucket they required for today's little project had been considerably more cooperative.
"Maybe it just requires a different approach," Atum said as he gave the forge bellows a few more presses, the forge now radiating a fierce heat. "I admit my approach to such behaviour would be…confrontational, but I can see that you would not appreciate it. What, if you could have anything from them, would you have?"
Atum turned and stared at Luna intently.
Luna looked surprised by the question, "I…really…I want them to go away mainly. Forever. I never want to see them again, but if I could have anything…understanding, I would want them to understand, if just for a little while, how I see the world. It would be highly illuminating for them, I think-" She froze, deep in thought. "There is a potion called Solomon's Gaze or something like, it would produce very similar effects," she looked up at Atum with an utterly devious smile, "all right, Not-Harry, you win this argument. I'll give it some serious consideration and maybe, maybe I'll decide to…debate with Chang and her friends, but on my terms." She gave a decisive nod.
Atum smiled happily to himself; it was all he could ask for.
oOo
….past a really ugly landscape obviously hidden away from delicate sensibilities, and then down some stone steps that were so worn that they dipped and sloped down in the middle, treacherous and dangerous for the unwary.
Snape sidled down them carefully, looking around, his sharp eyes taking in everything. Considering the liberal covering of dust and cobwebs, this area obviously wasn't regularly visited, even by house-elves. He sneered in disgust as a particularly dusty cobweb caught on his sleeve. The things he had to put up with.
Potter had better be around here somewhere, because when he caught up with him he was going to do his absolute best to make the gigantic pain-in-the-backside suffer…
…the image of the Dark Lord crawling across the floor, muttering, shivering in pain, blindly grasping for his wand…dangerous as a rabid dog…
More shaken than he'd like to admit, he cleaned away some of the grime from one of the leaded windows. That was strange…a curl of smoke trailing lazily up from the chimney of one of the out buildings…supposedly abandoned…the brat, he'd found him. Snape barred his teeth in triumph, his pace picking up. Surely there must be an entrance or something like that along here. Knowing the Castle, and his abysmal luck, the way into this courtyard was probably on the seventh floor in a bathroom with a password like "uggity boogity" which you had to shout while hopping on one leg. If it was like that, then the Wizarding World could go shove itself.
A clean track in the dust led out of a side passage, meandering its way ahead of him, Potter's ridiculously over-sized footprints clearly visible in the dust before abruptly halting in front of a door. Snape would have punched the air if such undignified nonsense wasn't beneath him. "Got you," he smirked to himself as he let himself out into the courtyard beyond.
It was a lot cleaner than he remembered it being; the cobbled courtyard of the old Blacksmith's yard had been neatened up, cleared of all the years of rubbish including the grass that had been poking up between the cobbles, even the snow had been kept clear, though there was currently a light dusting from a recent flurry. They'd left the self-seeded trees, their leafless forms lurking in the corners of the yard…and what was that sound, a rhythmic hammering, of metal on metal.
Dreading what he would find, Snape stormed towards the outhouses, blinking as his eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom of the forge, reeling from the sudden blast of heat.
Potter was busily pounding away at something on an anvil, a white hot bar of metal, his bronze skin glowing in the light from the forge, the sound deafening as he manipulated the glowing piece of metal with tongs and hammer.
"Ready," Potter boomed.
"Okay," Lovegood replied.
Snape's head snapped round as he took in her presence. She was crouching down, some tarpaulin covered horror looming behind her in the gloom, brushing through something…a circle of runes and other various symbols…and sitting in the middle, one of Filch's battered old mop buckets filled to the brim with something that swirled and shifted under its own volition, something that wasn't quite here, and certainly shouldn't be in an old mop bucket.
Potter appeared, holding the glowing piece of metal with tongs. With one swift movement he plunged it into the mop bucket, the strange liquid broiling and bubbling, screaming as if in pain, a foul and unearthly stench filling the space of the forge, as the liquid evaporated away.
"What in Merlin's name do you two think you're doing?" Snape roared as he backed away from the potential danger.
Potter and the Lovegood girl whirled round, guilty expressions etched on their faces. "Erm," Potter began.
"Eloquent as ever I see. I want an explanation, a proper explanation," Snape hissed as he stalked into Potter's personal space, "now!"
"Erm," Potter repeated, green eyes darting sideways to where his partner in crime stood, "we're making enchanted blades, sir?"
Snape gave the broken ritual circle and the blatantly-a-mop-bucket an incredulous look. "Enchanted blades? Really," he sneered, "I've witnessed the odd enchantment of an item or two and I can assure you at no point does it require this sort of thing," he waved a hand at the remains of the circle, "or the theft of Castle cleaning equipment. Don't worry," he smirked at their nervous faces, "I'll be sure to tell Mr Filch that you'll do whatever he requires of you to compensate him for the loss of his no doubt prize bucket."
"We were going to clean it and put it back, Sir," Lovegood said earnestly, "I'm sure it'll be all right."
"Oh I'm sure it will," Snape nodded in agreement, watching them relax slightly, "up until the point where Mr Filch decides to use it for some actual cleaning, and the floor starts to grow tentacles, and eyeballs, and teeth, and then tries to eat him. Why do you little cretins never think before you do these things?"
oOo
"Uncle Sev, what am I going to do?" Draco whined pathetically from where he sat in the visitor's chair.
Snape glared at the snivelling youth; really, this was the spawn of Lucius and Narcissa? Where had they slipped up? He'd love to know.
"The…the Dark Lord keeps sending me letters," the brat carried on oblivious to Snape's disapproval, "he keeps changing what he wants me to do every time. Last week he demanded that I turn the Astronomy Tower into a mountain of lime jelly and that I destroy Merlin himself…today…today," he waved the parchment letter with a trembling hand, "today he wants a cat-skin purse no later than the weekend and it's already Wednesday. What am I going to do, Uncle Sev?"
He turned his desperate gaze on Snape. "He's threatening to turn Mother into a coffee table if I don't comply…"
Snape rolled his eyes. A coffee table. Really. It wasn't much of a threat being turned into a piece of furniture, probably quite a pleasant hassle free existence really, though he suspected the cup rings would get annoying quite quickly.
"…so undignified. Uncle Sev, are you listening?" Draco glared at him reproachfully.
"Of course I'm listening," Snape glared at the snivelling Malfoy spawn, "I fail to see what the problem is in just finding a cat, skinning it and using a crafting spell to turn its hide into a purse. I'll even retrieve the appropriate book for you if you're shy about being seen in the Handicraft section with the Hufflepuff girls. Just don't catch Professor McGonagall by accident. I'll never hear the end of the complaining if you do."
Draco went paler. "Kill…kill a cat," he squeaked.
Snape stared at him over the piles of inept first year essays. "Well, yes. Cat-skin purse. You need cat-skin for it, it's in the name," he said slowly, "so no skinning Potter's owl." He smirked at his little joke.
Apparently Draco didn't find it in the least bit amusing, considering the shade of eau-de-nil he went. "Like I'd do something that stupid," he muttered, "end up being experimented on by the giant weirdo of Gryffindor and his little psycho girlfriend. Merlin, no!"
The office descended into silence as Snape worked his way through the excruciating excuses for essays the first years had turned in. It was almost as if no one had taught them how to write an essay.
"Where am I going to find a cat for this?" Draco whined.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Just look around the Castle."
"But they're people's pets," Draco protested.
Snape stared at him in disbelief; what a time to grow a conscience. "And they disappear in the forest all the time. It won't look suspicious if that's what you're worried about."
Draco nodded, his face pale and clammy. "Right…cat-skin purse…and…and if…when the Dark Lord sends me more strange requests…"
"Then I will endeavour to aid you if I am able," Snape said not bothering to look up as he wrote a large red "T- see me" with relish at the top of a particularly mind-curdling embarrassment of an essay.
OOOOOO
He adjusted the angle of the basilisk's head again, stepping back and eyeing it critically. Did it look more aesthetically pleasing this way, or did it look better the other way? Atum frowned as he considered the matter. As it was the slightly decayed remains a giant magical snake, aesthetics didn't really come into it.
Hopefully, Professor Snape would be able to see past its lack of beauty and be able to appreciate it for the thoughtfully (he hoped) chosen gift that he'd intended it to be.
Maybe he should gift wrap it. Luna had been very insistent that presents should always be gift wrapped. She'd even demonstrated during Study Period on her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and then lent him a book full of useful seasonal charms.
He'd had fun practising them on all of the other gifts he'd acquired for those he cared about, the copy of Now You See Them, Now You Don't: Rare Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them for Hermione, the potions journal for Ron, (he'd even gone to the trouble of having his name embossed on the front in gold) and the heavy-duty thorn proof gloves for Neville. Luna had been a little more difficult, so in the end he'd written a journal of Horemheb's experiences and knowledge. He suspected it would result in Luna asking some interesting questions. He'd even got Headmaster Dumbledore a collection of nice warm socks, and there was even a little something for Madam Pince, a snow-globe of Hogwarts, a charming little thing with ever falling snow and tiny figures that darted around the Castle's towers on little broomsticks. He'd added a hexen-mark to the bottom to impart a sense of happiness and wellbeing, with a few modifications of his own devising of course.
So now, early on Christmas morning itself he was left sorting out the final gift he was going to give, one especially for Professor Snape, who had so generously given up his free time repeatedly, to take him shopping for new robes and boots and the like. It was very kind of him, he didn't have to do it after all, and so Atum felt honour bound to say thank-you in some way. Hopefully, sixty foot of basilisk would be adequate.
He took his wand through the tight little dance of flicks and jabs of the wrapping charm, concentrating on what exactly he wanted. The results were…the basilisk was mainly covered. The way the conjured paper had tried to fill its mouth and ruined eye sockets was a little on the gruesome side, and maybe that shade of red was rather bright. On the other hand the dancing beetles were an improvement on the festive trees that he'd been aiming for. As a finishing touch he added a large golden bow and ribbon around the basilisk's snout, a large flashing gift tag hanging down by the giant snake's right nostril. He checked it.
"…to Professor Snape…lots of love…Atum…"
Err, maybe not.
He tried again.
"…to Professor Snape…thank you…from H. Potter…"
Much better.
oOo
He could quite honestly say that this was the time of year he loathed the most…Christmas…Snape scowled to himself as he tied his boot lace. Christmas trees…tinsel…mistletoe…people trying to "jolly" him up, "but it's Christmas Severus"…mulled wine…cheese spreads…oh, how he loathed it all, every last little bit.
The only good thing he could see about Christmas day was that most people saw it as an excuse for a lie in, which meant he could have a lovely quiet breakfast all to himself with just an interesting book for company. The start of a peaceful morning, brat free, annoying colleague free, just him and the Castle.
He generally used this as a golden opportunity for a walk, preferably around the lake if the weather was good enough. If it was still snowing, then he would make his way to the top of the Astronomy tower and work his way down, attempting to walk around as much of the Castle as he physically could. Some years he managed to get so lost, he completely missed Christmas Dinner and ended up with chicken and cranberry sauce sandwiches in his private rooms. Maybe he'd be that lucky this year.
So it was, much to his extreme embarrassment later, that he walked out of his office rather deep in thought and not fully cognisant of his surroundings, which was why he managed to walk into the large obstruction in the hallway.
Backing away hurriedly, wand drawn on reflex, he took in the horrific sight, a giant and very dead snake, garishly and badly wrapped in paper so bright it was almost pink, covered in golden dancing beetles, a huge gold bow jauntily placed just so on the snout of the thing. In fact, wasn't that the most disturbing thing ever, the way the wrapping had scrunched itself into the eye sockets giving the snake a crossed-eyed appearance, as if it was staring in alarm at the badly tied bow on its own nose. He watched in horrified fascination as two of the beetles slowly tango-ed past the bow and across the thing's snout.
What in Merlin's name! When he found whoever was responsible for this extremely distasteful prank he would make them wish they'd never been born. Using the tip of his wand he carefully flicked the gift-tag over.
"…to Professor Snape…thank you…from H. Potter…"
Where the hell had Potter found a giant snake? Had he rather crudely engorged one, or…there was that mess a few years back when that utter buffoon Lockhart had been around. Hadn't the Headmaster mentioned something about a…
Turning, he sprinted back into his room, skidding to an undignified halt before the fire-place as he fumbled for the floo-powder. Flinging a pinch of the stuff into the fire, he dropped to his knees thrusting his face into the suddenly green flames. "Headmaster's office," he bellowed.
"Headmaster, Headmaster!" He glared round what he could see of the man's office, Fawkes peering at him with mild interest from his perch. All the usual trinkets were in place, the new carpet replacing the one Potter had managed to ruin beyond rescue. Even the house-elves had flung their hands up in despair at the sight of it. Something about the behaviour of magical blood in large quantities and the way it interacted with the sort of fire-retardant charms that were woven into such articles. Flitwick had tried explaining, but after a few minutes, the small man had completely lost him in the technical intricacies. The only thing Snape had been clear on was that that rug had not come cheap.
"Headmaster!" Snape bellowed in frustration.
Dumbledore peered round the fireplace, a cup of tea in his one remaining hand. The Headmaster had obviously decided to have a lazy morning, his hair and beard still sleep mussed, wrapped up cosily in a quilted paisley dressing gown, feet shoved into fluffy white slippers.
"Severus," Dumbledore asked in concern, "whatever is the matter?"
"Potter has struck again," Snape announced through gritted teeth.
"Ah," Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in concern, "I shall be with you very shortly…it's not an explosive situation, is it?"
Snape considered the matter. "Not immediately, I believe." He withdrew from the fire and the disorienting feel of the floo, back into the sanctuary of his small living room; and he'd been so looking forward to a peaceful morning too.
The fire whooshed to life again as Dumbledore stepped through in hastily thrown on robes, though, Snape noted, he'd not bothered changing his slippers.
"It's in the corridor," Snape sighed as the Headmaster looked expectantly around. Snape led the way, sighing at the still flashing, ghastly wrapped abomination that filled the corridor.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore said after a moment.
Snape had a horrible suspicion the Headmaster was trying not to laugh, as he examined the wrapping paper and read the gift-tag.
"How very generous of Mr Potter," Dumbledore finally said. "From the damage that is visible, I rather suspect that this is in fact Slytherin's basilisk, from the Chamber of Secrets itself," he smiled.
Snape blinked in surprise. What? The brat had thought of him and decided that a near mythical creature that was once the personal pet of a near mythical man would make the perfect gift for him. Could the brat get any stranger?
"So, what do you intend to do with your Christmas gift?"
"Erm," Snape said, then cursed himself for saying something so idiotic. "I'm sure something will occur to me in the near future," he muttered, doing his best to ignore the Headmaster's barely suppressed smile.
"Ah, I was wondering," Dumbledore admired the snake again, "it would be rather awkward once term started if it were to be still draped in front of the Potions classroom, and if memory serves me correctly the Slytherin common room too. Very awkward, I would have thought," he nodded sagely.
Of all the stupid things; Snape opened his mouth to protest.
"Uncle Sev," a familiar voice drifted down the corridor sounding slightly muffled.
Snape ground his teeth in frustration as first a basket covered in a checked tea-towel which Draco had swiped from who knew where, and then Draco himself emerged from beside the corpse of the basilisk.
"Uncle Sev, what's going on?" the blasted boy said, asking the completely obvious; maybe he should have been sorted into Gryffindor. The look on Lucius's face would have been priceless.
"Oh, err…" Draco finally noticed the company he was in, "sorry, Professor Snape…Headmaster," he inclined his head in greeting. "Erm…Sir," Draco sidled nervously towards Snape clutching his basket, "I've got the, err…results for that project I've been working on…for you…Sir."
Of all the ridiculous…Snape ground his teeth in barely contained fury. Did Malfoy have no common sense? Did the appearance of a giant, garishly wrapped corpse in the Dungeons not suggest something rather untoward was happening? Had he just thought "oh, I'll just climb over this tastelessly wrapped and very dead giant snake with my ridiculous wicker basket containing my secret and highly embarrassing mission for the Dark Lord, and head towards the obvious conversation between my contact and the leader of the bloody opposition."
When the Headmaster finally shoved off, he was going to bloody strangle Malfoy.
"Oh, may I see?" the Headmaster seemed positively excited.
Draco looked between them nervously, Snape completely ignoring the imploring look that sent his way. "Yes…yes, sir," he finally stammered twitching the tea towel to one side.
"Absolutely fascinating," the Headmaster exclaimed. Snape groaned in frustration as the old man happily plunged his remaining hand into the basket. Hadn't he learnt from the last he'd touched some unknown magical object? Maybe he should mention something to Poppy, get her to look the Headmaster over for any signs of dementia. Yes, definitely, first chance he got, probably this afternoon then.
"…Severus, aren't they delightful?"
"Eh," Snape gave the Headmaster a puzzled glare. Dumbledore gave him an exasperated smile holding out his hand so Snape could admire the toadstool that was busily giggling madly as it did an energetic jig.
So it had worked then; wouldn't the Dark Lord be thrilled when he received his package of "crazy mushrooms". He'd suggested that Draco should give some of them fangs. Hopefully they'd bite Bellatrix when he could watch.
"Ah yes, indeed. They do appear to have worked as expected," Snape managed to say. Dumbledore gave him a disappointed look and turned back to the increasingly nervous Draco.
"Well, Mr Malfoy," he smiled at the Slytherin as he put the overly energetic toadstool back into the basket, "have you considered a career in enchanting?"
"I err…erm…" Draco gulped nervously clutching at his basket, "I err…no Sir," he squeaked, cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.
"I think you should seriously consider it," Dumbledore continued kindly, "that's some very nice work there," he gave Draco a smile.
"What's all this then?" a fruity voice enquired from behind him. Snape groaned; could the morning get any worse? He turned to find the rotund form of Horace Slughorn behind. The other Potions Master was bouncing on his heels as he gave the badly wrapped monstrosity a sceptical look.
"Somebody gave Severus a basilisk for Christmas," Dumbledore gave a small smile. Slughorn practically vibrated with excitement.
"Really?" he exclaimed, bouncing round to stare speculatively at Snape, sizing him up like a prize flobberworm on the chopping board.
Hunching down in his robes, his hair falling forward, Snape snarled to himself. Would it be considered petty if he fed the blasted Headmaster something? Not a poison, but something creative and uncomfortable, the Tabasco Torrent elixir maybe, guaranteed to give the imbiber many a sleepless night on the toilet, or maybe the Hives of Hell lotion added to his soap. It was barely legal, but surely he could claim extreme provocation.
Or maybe he should just take the short route to some peace and quiet, and bash his brains out on this nice sturdy stone wall. Decisions, decisions…
OOOOOO
Luna sighed softly to herself as Snape loomed over her shoulder, but what she was working on, a trap for Heliotropes, apparently didn't hold his interest, as he moved away again, the tarpaulin over the sledge conveyance thingy rustling as the Professor gave it a suspicious glare. Obviously he didn't fancy confiscating it, probably a good idea since she had no idea how shrinking charms would interact with the navigation controls Harry had created, but it would definitely mess with the structural integrity of Professor Snape's pockets.
The tarpaulin swished back into place as the dour man stomped back into place beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sneer at some of the graffiti on the old potions bench they had rescued and attempted some mends on. JP, SB, RL, PP. Obviously there was some history there.
She had got together tinsel, wire, a paper weight that was charmed to cycle through various colours and a lump of blue cheese, none of which Professor Snape could truly object to, especially since it was very important that she not add any of her own magic during its construction. She had a feeling he was trying to think of an excuse, any excuse to confiscate the Heliotrope trap (or should that be a helio-trap?) but was having seconds thoughts about having blue cheese smeared tinsel stuffed in his pocket. She knew that had been a particularly good idea. Hopefully the Heliotropes would like it too.
A particularly loud grunt from the courtyard signalled Harry propelling himself and his halberd up into the air in a flurry of copper limbs, the blade flashing in the watery February sunshine.
Behind her Luna could almost feel Snape perk up, heard his growl of "stupid boy" as he stalked forward hopefully to see of Harry had managed to break anything from his acrobatics. To Snape's utter disappointment, Harry hadn't. Luna smiled to herself, Professor Snape had such a finely developed sense of schadenfreude.
The distant chiming of a bell caught Snape's attention, causing him to snarl under his breath. Rounding on Luna, he stalked up to her until they were practically nose to nose. "There had better be absolutely no funny business from now until dinner time, understood?"
"Of course not, Sir," Luna gave him a reassuring smile.
"And the same goes to you too, you great big lump," he bellowed at Harry, who blinked politely as the Professor stormed past to the small entrance door to the Castle.
The pair watched him go for a moment.
"Has he gone yet?" Luna asked.
Harry squinted up at the warding circles they'd drawn on the ceiling of the forge (it was amazing just how few people looked up). "Yes, I think so…yes, definitely, he's passed through into the main area of the Castle now. Shall we get to work?" he smiled at her.
Grinning, Luna tapped on the bricks near the forge. The small space beyond might, once upon a time, have been an oven until they'd altered it for their purposes. It opened up, revealing scrolls of parchment, books and several hand stitched journals, which Harry happily pulled out, dumping them on the other end of the old potions bench, sorting through the various plans and notes and muttering softly to himself.
Luna leaned over examining one of the drafts for a multi-layered seal of opening. "It's such a shame we lost the first test tablet to Professor Snape," she sighed.
Harry's brow creased thoughtfully as he flicked through their notes. "True, but going over it again, there were several flaws in our design. It would have worked to an extent, but…" he trailed off.
"What are we trying to do with this?" Luna asked, leaning her chin on a fist as she carefully watched Harry.
Her very large friend was looking even more thoughtful now. "It's…how do I put this…you know how you compared me to raspberry ripple ice-cream?"
Luna nodded, wondering where he was going with this. It was sure to be an interesting journey.
"I've always considered "Harry" to be the raspberry sauce bit," Harry smiled slightly, "the red seemed rather appropriate really. But the rest…the rest is the other who combined with Harry to form me."
He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. "The other, he was being chased by this…thing, a daemon form of sorts. He called it a Tutelary. Originally, it had been like a pet or a helpmate particularly when dealing with his sorcery, but when he fell into the place that the Veil leads to, the Empyrian, it turned on him, attacked him and tried to consume him. When he and Harry met, it saved his existence…but then they combined to form me."
The Forge fell into a thoughtful silence, the beginnings of another snowstorm slowly drifting down outside, obscuring the looming shape of the Castle, lit windows appearing ghostly in the gloom.
"The other wasn't alone originally," Harry suddenly said, "he was one of many, a group of brothers, monks almost, devoted to the pursuit of esoteric knowledge for the betterment of Humanity, and they all had a Tutelary. I have to warn them of the danger they're in, if I possibly can. I don't know if this will work," he waved a huge hand at the piles of notes, "but I have to try."
That made sense; so Not-Harry was actually, at least when it came to his essential essence, the child of Harry Potter and this "Other" who sounded quite fascinating and had obviously made a huge impact on their off-spring.
"Of course you have to warn them," Luna nodded seriously, "so do you have a name of your very own? It's extremely important, you know. If you're having trouble finding one I'll be happy to help. According to Daddy I have quite the knack for it."
Not-Harry grinned.
"I think you look like an Ethelbert or maybe a Montague," Luna continued.
Laughing, Not-Harry shook his head. "I already have a name I feel quite fits me."
Luna looked at him expectantly.
"Atum. My name is Atum."
Luna hopped off her stool. "Pleased to meet you, Atum," she held out her hand, "I'm Luna. So, can we call this Project Phone-home?"
OOOOOO
Bellatrix was cackling with laughter at something really beyond the pale as usual. Snape sneered at the repulsive female as she hung over her husband's shoulder while he repeatedly cast the Cruciatus curse on some poor unfortunate. Some of the more reprehensible Death Eaters watched in amusement as the Lestranges' victim writhed and screamed and pleaded for mercy, his protests becoming weaker and weaker as the torture went on, the Dark Lord watching the performance with an air of boredom and frustration, picking at loose threads on his robe cuffs.
They'd already taken much delight in partially dissecting the poor man's arms and legs, and considering the size of the pool of blood on the ground, it was only a matter of time.
Why had he been so stupid to get involved with these pathetic people? Oh wait, he'd been a pathetic snivelling teenager who thought the world owed him due to his less than perfect childhood. Presented with some too-good-to-be-true offer he'd grabbed it with both hands. What he would give to be able to go back in time so he could lamp his younger self before he did anything stupid…and if wishes were hippogriffs, he could start a rather lucrative breeding program.
"Severus," Lucius muttered as he sidled up to him trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. Snape gave his friend a critical once over; to say the man was looking the worse for wear was an understatement. His normally immaculate hair looked untended, his complexion grey with exhaustion, his face pinched and far too thin.
"When did you last eat?" Severus asked keeping his voice low.
"As if I have any appetite with this in my home," Lucius muttered, jerking his head towards the room. It had once been glorious, an impressive display of the Malfoy's wealth and power, but having several dozen Death Eaters squatting in it had left the décor rather the worst for wear.
"I'd rather not be poisoned," Lucius scowled darkly at the room in general.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And yet we are friends."
"Well, yes," Lucius gave him a funny look, "if you ever decided to poison me, I'll either never know, or it will be such exquisite pain and horror that all I will be able to do is be in awe of its brilliance as I die in agony."
"So, no death by rank amateur then," Snape tried to suppress his smile.
"Exactly," Lucius sniffed as he watched a post owl cautiously approach the Dark Lord, "it would be beneath me. That looks like Draco's owl." He frowned as the Dark Lord divested the bird of its load. "That is definitely Draco's owl."
They watched as the bird abruptly exited the room in a flurry of feathers. "Always knew I picked him a sensible bird," Lucius nodded in approval.
The Dark Lord snarled in rage. "What!" he shouted as he shook the box. "Why? I didn't order this, I wanted sandwiches!"
The snake like man-thing tore into the wrapping of the parcel, shedding strips of brown paper and packing as he did, revealing a glass dome. It was rather like one of those terrariums, a little self-contained eco-system in a bottle, Snape thought. Lily's parents had had one in their living room. This one, being magical, had a tiny little mountain with thickly forested slopes and minute glaciers, the silver threads of streams crashing down to a lake below, while above a cloud obscured the peak raining down yet more moisture.
"Did my son make that?" Lucius whispered in surprise. "How charming."
Snape had to admit it was a rather good piece of enchantment, especially for a first year NEWT student. The Dark Lord raised the miniature landscape in its bottle above his head, flinging it to the floor with a resounding crash.
The silence was deafening as everyone turned to the Dark Lord, relaxing as he ignored the room hunching down his chair muttering darkly to himself.
Bellatrix broke into cackling laughter as she stamped on a bit of mountain. Those around began to relax, conversation returning to the room.
"I hate him," Lucius snarled softly, "I hate this."
OOOOOO
"Hello Luna," Hermione sidled up to the other girl who was deep in concentration, leafing through a book full of arithmantic tables and equations.
"Erm…Luna," Hermione tried again when she failed to get a response, "have you seen Harry anywhere?"
"Hmm?" Luna looked up at them, her pale eyes wide and vacant. "Harry? Oh…Professor Snape had to take him shopping again. He stretched too hard and managed to pull the sleeves off his very last school robe. At the rate Harry's growing," she continued, "he's going to be almost as tall as Professor Hagrid, and then everyone will think he's half giant."
"Well, he must be," Hermione frowned in annoyance, "or something very like it, maybe problems with his body producing far too much growth hormone. I'm surprised Madam Pomfrey hasn't done something about it, it can cause serious health problems."
"If you say so," Luna gave her a polite smile before turning back to her book.
Hermione shared an exasperated look with Ron, who just shrugged. What could they do after all? Sighing, the two trailed over to the Gryffindor table, picking seats so that they could watch Luna while they had lunch. It seemed so odd seeing her alone without Harry's enormous bulk towering beside her.
"So, Harry is on to his, what…tenth set of robes so far this year?" Ron said as he pulled a book out of his bag.
"I think so," Hermione smiled as she took in Ron's reading material, something about ingredients reactions from the look of it. Ron went rather pink at her glance.
"So…growth…whore…moan. What's that?" Ron asked, obviously trying to distract her.
"Oh, growth hormone," Hermione eagerly grabbed the distraction, "it's produced in your brain by the pituitary gland. It controls how your body grows, but if you have too much of it, not only does it cause excessive growth, it can cause deformities and all sorts of health problems, delayed puberty, circulatory problems, skeletal problems…. Humans aren't meant to be that big. Our bodies really can't take the strain."
"Huh", Ron said, expression thoughtful, "except Harry runs around the Castle grounds every morning, and swims, and then there's all his waving around of that stick….well, technically, it's a small tree, but you know…" he shrugged.
"Exactly", Hermione nodded, "so why hasn't he been having problems with his knees then? You'd think Madam Pomfrey would be all over him about it."
A panicked shriek rose from the Ravenclaw table. Hermione and Ron looked at one another in puzzlement. Harry wasn't here and Luna wasn't doing anything particularly strange; so why was Cho Chang clambering onto the bench, waving her arms frantically around her head as if swatting something away? Mariette Edgecombe wasn't much better, running along the tables a short way, screaming at the top of her lungs before suddenly diving to the floor.
Jumping to her feet, Hermione climbed onto the bench for a better look, but of course everyone else had a similar idea, and then of course, teachers came to take control and resolve the situation, the Headmaster himself descending from the high table, still looking strangely lopsided without his right arm that had suddenly disappeared one day, though he'd also begun to look less tired too. Hermione watched him curiously; had Professor Dumbledore been poorly? It was obvious that whatever Madam Pomfrey had implemented was working.
Hermione jumped down and worked her way around the table trying to sidle closer to the screaming girls unobtrusively, Ron following in her wake, but Professor McGonagall stopped them with a narrow eyed glare. "Back to your seats, Granger, Weasley," she frowned at them. Beating a hasty retreat, they watched with a sigh as the two obviously terrified girls were gently led out of the Great Hall.
oOo
"Severus, so nice of you to join us", Dumbledore cheerfully waved to him. Snape hunched his shoulders as he took in the form of Horace Slughorn who was critically examining the contents of a small glass flask. The blasted man hadn't given him a moment's peace since Christmas, constantly bombarding him with possible exchanges for a sliver of Basilisk fang, "just a sliver, Severus, that's all I need for my experiment."
"Headmaster", he greeted the man as he sidled up to the small cluster of staff gathered in the middle of the Hospital wing. For some reason, a couple of students were hunched under blankets, only their white and terrified eyes peering out at the world. He slipped behind Minerva, trying not to attract old Sluggie's attention. "While you were sorting young Harry out, and I do hope you kept him out of that rather disreputable bookshop…" Dumbledore frowned severely at him.
Snape couldn't quite help the slight flinch as Minerva glared at him. Well, he hadn't, he'd just bribed Mundungus to keep his trap shut, which had about the same effect. It had been really awkward tracking him down too. At least he was able to leave Potter in J. Dee's while he did so, safe in the knowledge that the annoying brat wasn't likely to move so much as an inch way from Experimental Rituals and Spell Creation.
And then he got to have fun going through Potter's selection of books and seeing his crestfallen expression when he was told "no, you can't have Protective Hexenmark of the lower Rhine in the 13th Century: A Sociological Study." It always gave him a warm glow inside, as yet again he managed to save Hogwarts from almost certain destruction.
"…we would really appreciate a second opinion, Severus".
Snape blinked, and turned to the small flask Slughorn was now eagerly waving under his nose. "Severus, look!" the shorter man bounced on his heels, "I really do think Miss Chang and Miss Edgecombe have been dosed with Solomon's Gaze, of all things"
Gingerly taking the flask from his colleague, he carefully examined the pale lavender liquid inside. "Is this the blood, or the urine test?" he asked distractedly.
"Blood, Severus", Poppy informed him. Pale lavender liquid with a thin dusting of silver particulate at the bottom. It was about what he would expect from, say, an infusion of eyebright, sandalwood and dead man's nails, and he wasn't talking about the fungus either.
"When I can get them calm enough", the medi-witch grimaced, "both Miss Chang and Miss Edgecombe both report seeing strange "things", which we conclude may very well have something to do with the local ambient magic. Other than that, I can't tell, and until I know exactly what they were dosed with, I'm very reluctant to give them calming draughts."
Snape nodded, his mind racing. Solomon's Gaze, it could very well be, but it was an obscure potion, rather specialist in fact. It was only something that interested researchers and those studying obscure magics or enchantment, and needing to develop Mage Sight or at least temporarily see magic as it worked. It was definitely not on the Hogwarts syllabus, so who could or would brew such a concoction, especially since it needed dead man's nails….oh….he really was being stupid. "Have you talked to Potter and Lovegood?" he asked his colleagues, "I'm sure they'd know all about this". He gave the silver particulates in the flask another swirl.
"Severus, not everything is Mr Potter's fault", Minerva glared at him, "I will admit he has outdone himself this year what with one thing and another", she winced as she took in the Headmaster's missing right arm.
"It just seems curious…." Snape turned, taking in the two shivering piles that were Edgecombe and Chang. "Weren't this pair responsible for Lovegood losing her little "wraith-in-a-jar" bedside ornament?"
"Ah," the Headmaster sighed deeply.
"Quite," Snape smirked to himself as he admired the silver particulate again.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "And young Harry had only just finished detentions with me yesterday too. 10,000 lines of I must ask permission before amputating someone's limbs."
"Wouldn't I must not amputate people's limbs have been more appropriate Albus?" Poppy asked. "That young man has many talents, but a surgeon he is not".
oOo
The sound of chattering and milling students drifted out of the Great Hall into the Entrance Hall as people started drifting out and away to their afternoon classes. An unusually worried looking Madam Pince drifted past, Professor Vector at her side. "…bizarre, I really don't understand. Every time I go near my desk, I'm overcome by these giddy feelings. I don't know what to do…"
Atum tuned the two staff members out.
Atum sighed heavily, his stomachs grumbling. Professor Snape had utterly forbidden him to go to the Jade Radish, and so he'd had to make do with just a few snacks from Madam Doris, some of her tasty meat pies and some finger rolls. It just wasn't enough. He sighed heavily again, his stomachs giving a particularly painful gurgle.
On the other hand, he had had several unsupervised hours in J. Dee's while the Professor ran some mysterious errand, which had enabled him to buy a number of interesting books before the man came back. Maybe he could go to the kitchens later after class and beg for a pre-dinner snack to help him through to the evening meal.
The sound of running footsteps dragged him from his morose thoughts as Hermione charged up to him, her arms full of textbooks, Ron trailing in her wake.
"You wouldn't believe what happened during lunch!" she exclaimed as she came to a skidding halt in front of him nearly dropping her books.
Eyeing up the titles she was carrying, Atum came to a mildly horrifying conclusion. "I missed something really interesting in Arithmancy, didn't I?" he sighed sadly.
"Erm, no," Hermione was brought up short by his apparent non-sequitur, "well, I mean it was, a very good class. I made a copy of my notes for you."
"Thank you," Atum smiled down at her; Hermione was always thoughtful like that, "anything in particular I should take note of?"
Hermione scrunched up her face, shaking her head in frustration. "No…maybe…that wasn't really what I wanted to tell you about…lunchtime," she huffed in frustration, "Mariette Edgecombe and Cho Chang, they suddenly started screaming and waving their arms around like something possessed and…"
So Luna had gone through with her plan, Atum thought, excellent. Shame he hadn't been there to witness it, but still, it must have been rather alarming being introduced to "magic" as a visible entity in such an abrupt and sudden way. At least with Horemheb's experiences he'd been rather cushioned from the shock when his mage sight had made its appearance, though it was rather different from the third eye that Horemheb had been accustomed to. Should he drop a few hints to Hermione, make a few suggestions? Would it even be a good idea? They were so distant now, so little to connect them.
"…so what do you think Harry? Were they hallucinating?" Hermione cocked her head as she peered up at him, gauging his reaction carefully.
"Maybe," Atum said, "or maybe they were suddenly able to see something that's always there but normally invisible."
Hermione frowned thoughtfully, "…always there…can't normally see…"she muttered to herself, "…something invisible…Harry, you know something don't you?" she stalked forward hair bristling menacingly. "We're your friends, Harry, so share!"
Atum backed away; his eye caught movement by the doors to the Great Hall. Thank the Primarch, Luna had finished lunch. He sidled over to the Ravenclaw, who was giving Ron and a rather frustrated Hermione amused looks. "There's always the Library," he said over his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat with Luna at his side.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled after him, stamping her foot.
OOOOOO
He ducked as another wet branch nearly slapped him in the face, the night chilly around him, as the sleigh conveyance inched forward through the dark forest. It wasn't a jet bike or even one of those brooms that Harry had flown so like a bird, but he wasn't going to complain. It was just nice to be back in the air again, no matter how rickety the conveyance.
Determined to assist in the testing of Operation "Phone-home" stage 2, Luna had wrapped herself in a thick winter cloak, a wildly striped scarf and matching hat that seemed to have long ears rather like a rabbit. She was an intense spike of heat on this cold night as she huddled up in front of him, clutching her school bag currently filled with the tools that they needed for this very critical test.
Atum adjusted the controls on the lectern slightly as the undergrowth began opening out in front of him as they began to approach the clearing he had noticed a couple of days ago. It seemed ideal for their purposes, remote and isolated, a large open space containing nothing but grass and a few small shrubby plants.
Setting the ungainly vehicle down behind a large prickly bush rimed with frost, he and Luna set out towards their target, the grass crunching softly beneath their feet as they made their way to the centre of the clearing.
"Shall I set up the circle?" Luna offered peering up at him from under her hat, the long ears fetchingly lop-sided.
"And I'll prepare the tablet," Atum nodded as Luna passed the wrapped form of their second attempt, a palm sized slab of granite, carved on all sides with a series of interlinked circles and nested seals all in cuneiform. It had taken many a sleepless night to achieve the desired intricacy to produce the power that he needed to actually open a portal to the Empyrian in order to send what should be the message to Horemheb's brothers. He'd thought about combining the two different parts but in the end there were too many things that could go wrong and the nested seals would have been so large he would have needed a slab of granite nearly six foot square. It was probably going to be easier to induce the Dark Lord to make two relatively simple things than one giant monstrosity too.
They worked quickly only the sound of the frosted grass crunching beneath their feet breaking the silence. Somewhere a wolf howled.
"Hopefully they won't come and investigate," Luna muttered as something nearby yipped.
"Luna, you have a wand," Atum murmured, amused, "and you have me."
Luna gave him a quick grin as she packed the remaining salt and other supplies back into her bag, stepping back as Atum came forward to activate the runic work of the tablet. As he poured a steady flow of his magic into the central seal a blue glow began to trickle along the carved lines, pooling in the crevices of the cuneiform, glittering as it swirled and built up in each individual seal. A shrill and unnatural sound began to build, shattering the quiet of the night as the glow of the tablet began to intensify, suddenly hitting glass-shattering intensity. The table began to slowly rise off the damp grass, which began to steam from the increasing heat.
"Atum," Luna stared at the tablet in worry as the glow intensified even more to a bright dazzling white that lit up the clearing as clear as day.
"Maybe we should retreat back to the tree line," Atum suggested. It was probably all right, but just in case…he moved towards the trees, their gnarled bark and shrubby undergrowth now clearly visible, Luna jogging along beside him. To his mild alarm, the tablet was now a glowing sphere at least two feet across, floating at least four feet above the ground and it appeared to still be growing, the light it cast now almost certainly visible from the Castle.
"We need to leave," Atum said as he strode towards the sleigh conveyance, but when he turned Luna wasn't there, wasn't visible at all. He jogged back looking around frantically as his sensitive nose busily informed that the grass underneath the tablet was now beginning to catch fire. But where was Luna?
She was crouched down by her warding line, her tools laid out around her again, attempting to reinforce her handiwork, the ward above her now visible as it warped and bowed under the intense pressure, strange iridescent colours rippling across its surface. Ignoring her indignant squawk, he gathered her against his chest and sprinted for the safety of the trees. "But it was going to hold," she protested as he scrambled onto the sleigh conveyance, dumping her unceremoniously onto his lap as he prodded the control lectern into life.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, "hurry up."
The whining hum of the tablet was now a metal warping shriek on the edge of hearing that set his teeth on edge as he finally managed to get airborne and turn the ungainly thing around. Prodding it forward, he increased the acceleration to its limits, leaving the false sunrise of their latest experiment behind as he dodged around trees, ducking branches heedless of their scratching fingers and the showering ice they flung at him.
Luna clung desperately to his front, the ears of her hat flapping frantically with the speed of their passage. "Atum," she shouted over the shriek of rising magic and the desperate thrum of the sleigh conveyance, "we've really done it this time, haven't we?"
"Something like," Atum said distractedly as he tried to stop them from hurtling into a tree. The furious buzzing behind them suddenly stopped.
"Oh Merlin," Luna whispered, "its…"
It was as if an invisible hand swatted them from the air, tossing them free of the sleigh conveyance which shattered apart around them, showering them with splinters. Atum clung to Luna, tried to curl around her and shelter her from the storm of flying debris.
The unforgiving ground slammed into his side, knocking the air from his lungs, as all round a rain of shattered wreckage pattered down.
oOo
Bones aching with exhaustion he trudged back towards the Castle the damp and cold of the ground busily seeping into his boots as he went.
The Dark Lord had been madder than two cats in a sack, an increasingly common state of mind for the once-man, screaming abuse at random people, and actually physically attacking Bellatrix which had resulted in a massive argument with the Lestrange brothers. In other circumstances it would have been wonderfully entertaining, watching such a disgusting bunch of people busily tear themselves apart, but since he'd been nursing damage from a particularly nasty pus-filled-boil he had been unable to appreciate the display to its fullest.
He really needed to think up a good excuse to borrow the Headmaster's pensive again.
He was getting too old for this rubbish, he thought, as he stumbled on something hidden in the dark. He gave it a good kick, swearing when the definitely-not-a-small rock proved to be more stubbornly attached to the ground than he thought.
Hopping on one foot and grimacing, Snape glared around him, relieved it was such a dark and cold night; it guaranteed nobody had seen that, not even one of those up-their-own-backsides centaurs.
That was strange; he squinted at the light peeking from between the trees, there really shouldn't be anything over that way at all. The centaur village was further to the south, so unless some of the local Dire Wolves had learnt the secret to lighting fires (which he wouldn't put past them) that meant someone or something was up to no good. "Well, just brilliant," he snarled to himself as he began to limp his way towards the increasing brightness.
Come to think of it, he frowned at the sun-like brightness, that wasn't a fire, it was too steady, far too cool in colour, definitely of magical origin, if he was any judge. It was still increasing in size too, and what was that strange noise?
He paused, cocking his head as he listened. It bore a passing resemblance to nails down a black-board, or maybe glass being scratched, for sheer annoyance levels. And now it had stopped. He glared at the strange light; in his experience that was probably not a good thing.
An invisible force tossed him into the air like a rag-doll, peppering him with debris, before dumping him onto the ground hard in a tangle of robes.
Snarling, he did his best to right his protesting body, wrestling with the robes which had attempted to flip up over his head. He yelped in pain as he struggled to his feet, hobbling a few paces, before having to lean against a tree for support. Blasted ankle; either he had torn something or it was very badly bruised. Frankly, if that was the worst of his injuries, then he'd got off very lightly indeed.
He held up his wand, the tip blazing with light, revealing a scene of destruction, the surrounding area littered with broken and mangled branches, evergreen foliage, and to his fascinated horror a very dazed and confused young Acromantula which screeched pathetically at him, dragging a drooping piece of what could only be a yew tree over its eyes.
There was only one possible perpetrator of this heinous act.
"POTTER!" Snape roared into the night.
oOo
Surprisingly, they were both all right. Atum checked again just to be sure; Luna was still smearing ointment on her cheek for a gash she had sustained from flying debris. She'd also sprained her wrist, which was now strapped up, but Madam Pomfrey had been confident that it would be right as rain tomorrow morning. As for himself, the bruise he'd sustained when he had hit the ground was fading fast. It could have been so much worse.
It could also have been a lot better. As they were busily dragging themselves to their feet, a maniacally cackling Professor Snape had staggered out from the trees, wearing the shredded remains of Death Eater robes. The professor had ranted something about incarceration for life and never ending detentions, so suspecting that Snape had hit his head, they had dragged him up to the Castle hoping to get him to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey with no one the wiser.
That had turned out to be utterly futile. Hence their presence in the Headmaster's office at this ungodly hour of the morning. It was now so late that the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon, a rival to the brilliant glow that was now radiating from the Forest.
Professor McGonagall hid a yawn behind her hand, while Professor Flitwick looked uncharacteristically grim from his seat by the window, dark shadows beginning to show under his eyes. The Headmaster looked not much better; he'd obviously been well on his way to bed when he'd spotted the disruption in the forest, and was still sporting a rather racy lime green silk dressing gown embroidered with animated dragons as he stood in front of the window gazing out at the dawn, still looking rather lob-sided as the right sleeve hung limply by his side. Atum wondered, did he have a different dressing gown for every day of the week?
The trio of Unspeakables whispered excitedly to each other as they peered over the notes and journal that had been confiscated from the Blacksmith's Yard that were now piled on the Headmaster's desk. Professor Snape had been so excited about that. Apparently he'd suspected them of hiding things for months and had been eager for an excuse to poke around. Fortunately the ritual room and the little stash of specially made weapons hadn't been discovered; unfortunately the old bread oven and the detection wards on the ceiling had. Atum had already started considering the reasons why, and he suspected it had something to do with the type of magic used. Apparently even highly trained Unspeakables were oblivious to the presence of Horemheb's style of sorcery. This bore investigation.
He carefully studied the trio of grey clad figures. Was it normal for such experienced and no doubt learned people to be so excited by a personal project of two school children? He leant over to quietly ask Luna but decided against it when a low growl came from behind him. Turning slightly, he caught Professor Snape's disapproving gaze, his dark eyes feverishly bright in his pale face. Obviously, Professor Snape was suffering from lack of sleep at the moment so it was important to be nice to him.
"Precisely what is the situation?" Dumbledore asked as he turned from the window, his face unusually grim. "It will be a bit of a bind if we have to start placing aversion wards along the tree line to dissuade our more adventurous students." He strolled tiredly to his desk, settling in his chair with a sigh of relief.
"We may very well have to," Flitwick muttered darkly.
The Unspeakables looked at one another. "It's probably going to be no more dangerous than the Singularity in the Gryffindor Common Room. Once it's settled down of course."
"Give it a couple of weeks," another said, "didn't you find the damage caused quite fascinating?" he (or she) asked their colleagues. They nodded.
"Pretty typical of a ground level explosion of that power. At the epicentre, there's a crater surrounded by expelled debris, all the trees completely destroyed up to a distance of fifteen feet."
"Beyond that, then we start seeing sheared off tree stumps, the trees having been literally blasted in half. Then beyond that a zone of felled trees, all pointing away from the epicentre."
"At around the fifty-ish foot mark we started seeing the odd surviving tree that managed to withstand the force of the explosion, until…we have forest again."
"It's quite impressive," the first Unspeakable said, "I recommend grabbing a broom and flying over when you get a chance. It's quite the spectacle."
Atum slumped down further in his chair. Impressive spectacle wasn't quite what he was trying to achieve.
"It was a pretty powerful explosion all told," another Unspeakable nodded, "your average blasting hex produces something on the level of nine to ten thaums of energy, thirteen if the spell-caster's on the powerful end of the spectrum. A basic lumos charm is equivalent to one thaum," he (or she) explained to the puzzled faces. "It's pretty new, the thaum as a measure of magic; it's taken ages to get an international agreement on it. We're publishing the details next month," she (or he) explained.
"Really?" Professor Flitwick perked up.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat meaningfully.
"This explosion," another Unspeakable continued, consulting her (or his) notes, "produced magic on the level of a million thaums, give or take ten thousand thaums either way."
"Pretty impressive for school students," another agreed.
The Hogwarts teaching staff glared nastily.
Clearing his (or her) throat, the Unspeakable continued. "Yes, well…there's a bit here…this section of the runic inscription seems to relate to interdimensional travel…"
The teachers turned as one to stare at Atum in thinly disguised horror.
"It does, doesn't it," another Unspeakable peered at the notes intently, "but this device would never have generated enough energy to blast through like that. You'd need a magical wield in the order of trilli-thaums, and even then it's hypothetical," she (or he) shrugged apologetically.
"Sorry, kids," an Unspeakable joked, "back to the drawing board!" He (or she) chuckled oblivious to the nasty glare that Professor McGonagall was sending her (or his) way.
Atum almost smiled, but then he caught Professor Snape's expression and thought better of it. But…blast it. He'd been so close. What would they have to do to produce a trilli-thaum yield, if what they'd produced so far was only millions of thaums? This wasn't an area where Horemheb's sorcery could really help him either, that was more illusions and the twisting of reality…though there was the bits and pieces he knew about sorcerous blades and their manufacture, which had all worked beautifully and resulted in a useable blade, a recognisable khopesh…and how did he measure a thaum anyway? Why hadn't he come across it in his reading? Maybe it was something currently highly theoretical; probably best to ask the Unspeakables if he got the opportunity.
So much work, so little time...maybe it was his approach that was the problem, trying to brute force his way into the Empyrean. Instead of the equivalent of a Warhammer, maybe what he needed was a Spear. Pierce a tiny hole through to the immaterium and then stretch it just wide enough to pop his message through, and then let it snap shut. Yes, yes, that could work very well indeed, and would require considerably less energy too.
Hopefully they could communicate all this to Voldemort with minimal trouble. The piece of soul within the diadem was fascinating (and horribly doomed), but its owner had a terrible tendency to think he knew better and try and improve things. Atum sighed heavily to himself; it was the only chance he'd got and, regardless of how flawed it was it would be foolish to throw it away.
"Oh," one of the Unspeakables exclaimed, "it looks like there were two versions…so, which one…ah…I suspect…"
His (or her) colleague peered over her or his shoulder. "I see what you mean…so which version was that?" She (or he) jabbed a finger towards the window.
"That was the second version," Atum said.
The Unspeakables turned to stare at him expectantly. "So what happened to the first one then?" one of them asked.
Luna blinked up at Atum muzzily. "Didn't Professor Snape confiscate our first effort?" she asked. "I'm certain he put it in his pocket and walked off with it." She yawned widely, her jaw cracking.
"The Professor did, didn't he?" Atum nodded slowly.
Everyone turned to stare at Professor Snape. "If you could retrieve this item," Professor Dumbledore asked, "from wherever you have stored it, we would be very appreciative."
Was it him or was the Headmaster being rather sarcastic there? Atum considered the matter as Professor Snape disappeared through the floo.
The tablet looked quite small and unremarkable when Professor Snape deposited it on the Headmaster's desk, just a small tablet of granite heavily carved on all sides. Atum craned his neck for a better view as the Unspeakables swarmed around it. Such a shame they hadn't managed to test it.
"Professor Snape's a braver man that I," an Unspeakable said, "putting something like that in his pocket." His (or her) colleagues nodded in agreement.
"So where have you been storing it?" one of them asked curiously.
Snape, to Atum's amazement seemed to be edging carefully away from the Headmaster's desk. "Desk drawer in my office," he muttered, "forgot about it."
Professor Dumbledore's glare was almost venomous as Snape slouched across the office, slumping against the wall beside Atum's chair, his hair hanging over his face.
The Headmaster looked from the tablet to Atum and Luna, his face unusually expressionless.
"I do believe young man, young lady," he sighed heavily, "that you are both going to be in detention for a very long time."
"The rest of your school career," Snape grinned nastily.
OOOOOO
"…started revising for Charms. I've been colour coding all my notes," Hermione frowned, obviously worried, "and I've started doing the same thing for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes too of course."
"Hermione," Ron tried interrupting the flood. The rest of the Charms class seemed to be keeping as far away from Hermione's rant as they could manage.
"…worried I've not started soon enough, especially for Transfiguration. We've had some really tricky theory this year…"
"Hermione," Ron snapped in exasperation.
"…been wondering whether we should start a study group just so we can go over the practical side of things, but Harry won't be able to join in, probably. Since he's in detention till the end of time," she glared up at him disapprovingly, "I wonder if Neville would like to join us…oh…what?" she glared at the red-head.
"Hermione, it's over eight weeks till the exams, and they're just normal end of year ones too. It's not like the OWLs or something," he shrugged.
Hermione looked utterly scandalised. "All exams are important Ron. Harry, isn't that right?" she glared up at her large friend.
Atum looked up from his book, blinking in bewilderment. Exams? He had Harry's memories of exams of course, and the youthful stress and worry that seemed to proceed each event, but they seemed quite insignificant compared to the trials and tests that Horemheb the Firebrand had undergone during his long life.
"Harry?"
He looked down into Hermione's narrowed eyes. Best to play this safe. "I would agree with you," he said slowly ignoring Ron's sad shake of his head, "it is important to test our abilities and understanding, the better to know our strengths and weaknesses."
"You know, that actually made sense," Ron muttered.
Hermione looked triumphant as she turned back to Ron, "see," she said smugly, "even Harry agrees with me."
"No, he didn't, he just said exams were important. Harry didn't say anything about obsessive revision months in advance…"
Atum sighed as he went back to his book, the argument back in full swing, Ron now pointing out in painful detail the significant distance between now and these exams. He understood there was a significant quantity of revision involved in order to achieve understanding of each subject. Did his eidetic memory count as a form of cheating? It was the work of moments to commit to memory most of a book of, say, History, but it didn't necessarily give him understanding. That only came from looking at the implications of a historical event, looking at the effects that had resulted, the ramifications…
"Potter."
Atum almost startled as someone slapped him hard on the arm. Looking down, he found Malfoy glaring at him, face flushed and teeth gritted, hair a mussed mess as if he tended to run his hands through it a lot.
"Malfoy," Atum smiled down at him politely.
"Potter," Draco growled back sending sidelong glances at the other students present, "I need to speak to you for a moment," he turned his back and stalked away down the corridor. Atum followed.
"Harry," Hermione hissed as she grabbed the back of his robe, Ron close behind her glaring at the Slytherin, "you can't just go off with him somewhere. I know we're in school, but he's not exactly had your best interests at heart the entire time we've been here, and now with him back…" she trailed off looking up at him imploringly.
"Its fine," Atum sighed as he gently pulled his robes from her grip, "I'll be fine. Stay here and watch if you wish to, but I will be quite all right."
He turned striding off to where Draco waited for him impatiently. "Finally," the Slytherin snapped shaking fingers through his hair, "Merlin, they're like blood sucking ticks the way they cling." With a flick of his wand he raised a privacy circle Atum was unfamiliar with. Rather than passively blocking sound this one was dynamic, distorting and confusing any noises into unrecognizability.
"Don't touch it," Draco snarled.
Atum gave him a guilty look, which merely earnt him an unimpressed stare from Draco.
"The thing we talked about, in the room…the Come-And-Go room you used last year for your little club thing. It's done, finished…so the next stage of the plan, the, the…invasion will be carried out tomorrow night…at nine O'clock"
So, there was finally killing to be done. Atum nodded slowly. He didn't enjoy battle per say, didn't glory in the heat of battle like some of the other Legions that Horemheb had come into contact with, but when it was necessary he would wade in to the fray and do what he must.
Draco glared at him. "I hope you have some sort of plan…otherwise I'm going to feel like a real idiot trusting you, you bloody boneheaded Gryffindor."
"I do indeed have a plan." Atum gave him a small smile.
"Well? What do I need to do?" Draco sighed obviously not looking forward to what was coming.
"Nothing. I just need to be in the room at the right time. I will handle it from the moment they come through. All you need to do is make yourself scarce." Atum considered the Slytherin for a moment. "You know, there is more than one kind of bravery."
Draco glared up at him in puzzlement.
"Running into battle while bellowing war-cries at the enemy is very flashy, but really it's a stupid thing to do," Atum winced, Horemheb's memories of armoured warriors who did just that flitting across his mind, "one of the hardest and bravest things you can do is to go against your family, friends, all the people you love and respect, in order to do what you feel is the right thing, the moral thing. That takes real bravery."
Draco stared at him as if he were mad, so Atum left him to it, drifting through the fascinating privacy bubble, the sensation of it falling like rain against his skin.
"What did he want?" Hermione demanded.
"Did he threaten you?" Ron aske still glaring at the Slytherin who was now drifting down the corridor apparently lost in thought.
"No," Atum sighed exasperated, "Malfoy was relaying a message from Professor Snape."
Ron and Hermione seemed almost disappointed at his answer.