Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.
Chapter Twenty-Six | Reckless
Twigs snap without a sound as I tread over them, a well cast silencing charm alerting none of the creatures of the forest to my presence. I pause for a moment, resting one hand on a massive tree as I perk my ears up and listen for any followers.
There's no steady thud that would signal a troop of centaurs, nor the terrifying chittering of the acromantula that I'm hunting.
Well, culling would probably be the better word to describe what I'm here to do.
After realizing the other day that Magna was responsible for keeping the acromantula population in check, I came to the conclusion that I should at least attempt to bargain with the man-eating creatures. If that doesn't work out… well, I'm going to have to wipe them out.
Sorry Hagrid, but while I know Aragog would listen to me if I asked him to stay away from the school, I know for a fact that his children won't. If they'll try to eat a self-aware Ford Anglia, they'll definitely go out to eat the students when the population gets out of control. There's only so much prey in the forest, and I'd rather see an abundance of unicorns and centaurs than man-eating spiders. Just a preference of mine.
I don't recognize the part of the forest I'm in, but once I'm familiar with it I can easily blink back here. Honestly, it's hard to recognize it, considering it all looks the same.
Big bloody tree. What's next to that? Giant mossy boulder. What about after that, could you describe the setting? Oh, yes, of course, it's a whole lot more big bloody trees.
How the hell did I find this goddamn place again? Follow the spiders? Can't really do that when Magna is dead. They're not running anywhere.
Should I be looking for an abundance of spiders? Massive webs? There's no car for me to follow this time.
Actually, now that I think about it, how the hell did that car drive around on its own? It acted like a guard dog when Ron and I were stupid enough to come into the forest looking for the bloody acromantula. What kind of enchantments did Arthur put on it? I've never, and I mean never seen an animated object act like that unless it was being actively controlled, and to the best of my knowledge Arthur isn't an enchanter.
Really, it's an impressive piece of magic. Even if I just looked at the flying and invisibility charms, those are still very complicated to cast, especially on a metal such as iron or steel, which I imagine the vehicle is made of since it was probably manufactured thirty odd years ago. It's difficult to get magic to set into those materials, so for Arthur to have made the car invisible, flying, and self-aware… I may have to speak to the man when I have the chance.
I walk for at least another hour before I stop where I am, the sound of clacking mandibles coming from somewhere above me. Not making any sudden movements, I slowly lift my hand up, pointing one finger to the sky. With a snap, I fire off a large bludgeoner, a massive gust of air blasting into the trees above me and sending the now shrieking acromantula to the ground.
Tree branches snap under its weight as it crashes down, its carapace cracking loudly as it strikes the dense floor of the forest. It lands on its back, legs kicking wildly as it attempts to right itself.
With an errant flick of my wrist, I send a blade of air towards the struggling beast, cleaving it in two and watching in disgust as its gelatinous innards spill out of its shattered body.
I stay still, hand out and wand at the ready for other acromantula to investigate their siblings dying screams. Fortunately, or unfortunately, none show up, and I assume I'm far enough away from the main nest for them to not have heard the, quite frankly, awful keens of the acromantula I just butchered.
Tentatively, I continue on my path into the forest, the trees growing denser and denser as I get deeper into its murky depths. Huh, maybe Tolkien named Mirkwood after the Forbidden Forest. It does fit, at least, if the acromantula have been here since the early 20th century. I don't think Hagrid was the first person to bring one of those monsters into the forest.
I roll my wand in my fingers, noticing stray bits of webbing here and there, old remnants of the acromantula's nest I assume. It has to move every once in a while, as they lose or gain territory from the other creatures in the forest, and the webbing here still looks fairly recent. Not too ragged, but not too fresh either.
With a skip in my step and a hell of a lot of butterflies in my stomach, I find myself working my way up a steep hill into what may be the main nest. I look up to the treeline, blinking up to a large, solid branch that can easily support my weight.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I don't come face to face with a four-foot spider, glancing around quickly to make sure that they're not sneaking up on me either.
I can see bridges crafted of spider-silk linking the trees together, lacing in and out of the dense foliage. There's a few shimmering outlines of extraordinarily thin lengths of silk, made to detect any intruders into the acromantula's territory.
I find myself deeply thankful that the British species of acromantula look to be predominantly burrowing spiders as opposed to web spinning. It's not that they don't spin webs or reside in high places, it's that the webs are more there to protect their homes, rather than catch prey. Case in point:s the dome web spun over their home, protecting them from sky-born invaders. Of course, a little thing like that isn't going to stop me.
Unfortunately, their lack of reliance on traps means that they're skilled hunters.
I blink forward, steadily making my way into the nest, dispatching an acromantula here and there. I transfigure their corpses into sticks, vanishing them so as to not attract any attention.
If things don't go as planned, and considering my luck they probably won't, I want to take these guys out as quickly and humanely as possible. Just because they're probably going to try and feast on the students doesn't mean I need to make them suffer anymore than necessary. They're man-eating monsters, but they're still sentient.
I quickly disillusion myself, as well as cast a general silencing spell along with a scent masking charm, making myself almost undetectable. I take a deep breath through my nose, slowly letting it out of my mouth.
Then I blink into the nest.
I see Aragog immediately, the massive spider twisting and shuffling curiously, his massive span crushing branches as he turns in my direction, obviously sensing something.
Bugger. I probably haven't made the best first impression, but I don't think I would be allowed to use the front door.
"What are you doing in my home, invader?" He growls, spinning his great body around frantically, his legs scuttling loudly as he kicks up a cloud of dust, trying desperately to figure out where I am. "I know you're here. I can feel you."
"Aragog, I've come to speak with you," I say, removing my disillusionment and bowing respectfully. I hope the truck sized spider understands what bowing is, otherwise I just looked very silly.
He clacks his mandibles together loudly, and it takes everything in my not to shudder at the noise. "A puny human… come to speak with me?" He growls, his voice dual toned and terribly inhuman, like a grotesque imitation of speech.
"Yes, I have. If I may cut to the chase, I would like to talk about the ba -," I pause, correcting myself quickly, remembering Aragog's refusal to name the basilisk. "The creature that your kind dare not speak of."
He hisses loudly, limbs quivering in anger. "You dare come to speak with me of that foul beast? Why should I not kill you where you stand? My young are hungry… many of them have not tasted the wonder that is human flesh," he muses, eight oil black eyes glinting dangerously.
I grit my teeth, holding back a growl and doing my best to not attack the sickening creature where it stands. Really, I'm sorry Hagrid, but I don't think this is going to end peacefully. "The basilisk," I sneer, Aragog rearing back from the word as if struck, chittering in fear. "Is dead. She was killed a few weeks ago. I came here to make sure that you keep your young in check. If I find them attempting to eat the residents of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, I will have to take action."
"A little thing like you, take action? You, a filthy two-legs crawls into my abode, and makes demands of me?" he growls, slowly advancing towards me.
I put my hand up, my fingers ready to tug at the strings of magic and force him back. "Yes, a little thing like me," I echo angrily. "If I didn't respect Hagrid as much as I do, I would never have bothered speaking with you. Do not tempt me." I flex my fingers, pulling up a fist and smiling as one raises out of the ground, mirroring my own.
Aragog studies me for a moment, before suddenly spinning around so that his rear faces me, brushing his hind legs against his… thorax? Whatever the arse end of a spider is called.
Confused, I watch as he flings his legs in the air, eyes widening as the large hairs on his thorax are tossed towards me. I curse loudly as I pull the earthen fist into their path. The fist explodes, shards of stone spraying in every which direction, ducking and rolling, I feel a few of the hairs fly past me, tousling my hair in their wake. I flinch as the hardened projectiles crunch loudly into the tree that was behind me, chunks of bark peppering my back.
Holy shit. I didn't know that acromantula could do that! I didn't even know spiders could do that!
I wave my hand, watching in horror as the massive blade of air glances off of Aragog's carapace, carving a deep furrow into the forest floor.
Looks like blades don't work.
"You dare to come into my home?" Aragog bellows, flexing his legs dangerously and bowing his head forward. "You come into my home and attack me? The King of the Forest?"
He throws his head up, pincers clicking loudly as he proclaims, "Children! Come and eat!"
"Oh fuck, I didn't plan this out at all," I groan, watching in horror as hundreds of acromantula appear out of nowhere, scurrying out of the ground and dropping from the trees above. I wave my arms, hundreds of invisible bullets piercing through the approaching horde of spiders, the creatures shrieking in pain as they're felled, their siblings paying them no heed as they march over their dying bodies.
Thinking quickly, I blink back up to the treeline, watching as the wave of charging acromantula crashes into the centre of the clearing, spilling over one another like a great wave. Scores of them scream shrilly as they're trampled by their brethren, the sickening crunch of their shattered exoskeletons echoing throughout the forest.
I hold both of my hands out, twisting them over each other as I begin to mould the ground.
When I fought Dumbledore, I had to hold back a bit. At least, not use my full repertoire of spells. If I hadn't, I probably would have taken out the foundations of Hogwarts. Either that, or there wouldn't have been enough Dumbledore left for me to bring him back.
But here in the forest, surrounded by nothing but air and earth? I'm quite literally in my element.
The ground beneath the heaving mass of spiders erupts violently, massive clumps of dirt spraying over them and burying the acromantula. I watch as they scrabble desperately, legs kicking as they try to dig themselves out of the upheaved earth. Gritting my teeth, I push down with both hands. The teeming heap shudders for a moment, muffled cries of agony stinging my ears.
I pull back for a brief second, finding the strain on my magic to be immense.
Fuck. My attack didn't work the first time, hopefully it works the second.
I place one hand over the other, forcing all my power forward as I command the earth to crush.
With a sickening crunch, the spider's tumulus compacts, their death knell a raucous screech as they're pulverized by the incredible weight of the earth. I can hear Aragog roaring in fury as exhaustion washes over me.
I fall back against the tree I'm standing on, fighting the oncoming wave of dizziness. I stumble, losing my footing and falling off the branch. My gut flips for just a moment, the air whistling past my ears. I blink to the ground, fatigued, but still in one piece.
I grimace as I find my feet stuck in the mud. Well, mud that seems to be soaked through with the mulched innards of the man-eating creatures I just ran through an improvised magical trash compactor. I send a silent thank you to whoever invented combat boots as I dredge my feet out of the muck, the gore ridden earth clinging to my boots, surrendering with a wet squelch as I break free.
"God, that's fucking disgusting," I mutter, staring in revulsion at my work, bits and pieces of acromantula scattered about, the only recognizable parts being a few legs poking out of the ground here and there. I watch in morbid fascination as they slowly curl up as the blood drains from them.
I realize very quickly that there's still a few acromantula left.
By a few I mean another hundred or so.
The massive spiders pour out of their warrens that I'm just now noticing, having assumed they were simple burrows.
No, it looks like they run throughout a good portion of the forest like an elephant sized anthill.
I sweep my wand in a circle over my head, a stretched cutting curse spraying out of the tip like a deadly fountain, the red light expanding rapidly and slicing through the younger acromantula in its way.
A large acromantula that I don't recognize dives towards me. I duck, pulling my hands up and forming a makeshift tunnel of earth around me, running to the end of it and rolling out the other side, a blade of air flying from my hands as I turn back to the swarm.
The larger spider keens in pain as a few of its legs are removed from its body, viscous black blood spraying from the severed ends of its limbs. It stumbles as it turns around to face me. If a spider's eyes could widen in shock, this one's would, as its swatted by a massive earthen hand.
It tumbles backwards, dust billowing around it as it rolls into a tree. Struggling, it tries to get up. I can see its remaining legs quivering, unable to support the creatures weight.
With an errant flick of my wrist, the stone hand flies forward, crushing the spider against the tree.
"Mosag!" Aragog screams, his voice so loud I expect it would shatter glass. "Mosag!"
The earthen fist crumbles as he tears away at it, a long mournful scream emanating from the acromantula's king. He scrambles uselessly, pulling her crushed corpse underneath him and staring at it in horror, his children frozen as they watch their father gaze dumbly at the eviscerated body of his mate.
Aragog turns towards me, his eyes shining with unadulterated hatred. Staggering forward, he chitters loudly, his children scampering madly to join ranks with him.
He begins to run forward, and I leap upwards, using the air to push me away from the rampaging horde, Aragog now leading the charge. "I will kill you human!" He bellows, the massive spider leaping in my direction.
Reflexively, I throw up a wall of air, Aragog bouncing violently off of it, crushing scores of his children as the earth craters beneath him.
Glancing around, I notice a mossy boulder and fashion a spike out of it. Aragog's carapace is too dense for me to break it with air, so I have to improvise. I begin to spin the massive projectile, sending it towards Aragog like a gigantic bullet. He's too stunned after being tossed about to react, the great chunk of stone impaling him.
He screeches, the spike trapping him against the ground. Nodding my head, I form another, sending it drilling through Aragog's face. The spike flies out of his thorax, his rear exploding outwards, a trail of gore and thick black blood following in the stones wake as it smashes into a tree.
The tree bursts, splinters and chunks of wood flying about and bouncing off my hastily cast shield. With a loud crack it begins to tilt, slowly careening into the ground, crushing a handful of shocked acromantula. I grimace as viscera bursts out from under the massive Douglas-fir, spattering across the forest floor.
His children screech in horror, the noise like grinding metal, digging into my skull. I grit my teeth in pain as my eardrums shrivel against the horrid sound, desperately holding my hands to my head to block out the noise. Momentarily stunned, I blink back up to the trees so that I'm not attacked by the remaining acromantula.
I watch as the beasts scatter, the few dozen that remain fleeing deeper into the forest, far and away from Hogwarts. It looks like I killed most of them, and it should take them at least a decade to regain their strength if the centaurs don't decide to hunt the creatures to extinction.
Slumping against the massive tree, I stare up through the branches knotted above my head, countless needles blocking out the pale moonlight. I sit there for a while in the shadows, resting comfortably in the darkness.
For someone who grew up in the darkness, one would think that I'd have grown to hate it. What with the being locked in my cupboard and all that. Instead, I've realized that I enjoy it, almost revel in it. It's not like I find the light to be a nuisance either, like the muggle idea of a vampire.
God that was one of the worst things that I realized upon entering the magical world, was that vampires do just fine in sunlight. Scared the pants off me.
I'm getting off topic... maybe my comfort in the dark is all a side effect of being half dead, or maybe it's just my slightly less than sane mind just doing the opposite of what one would expect it to.
Ignoring my shadowy tendencies, I feel a bit strange about this massacre I've just committed.
I don't feel good about what I've done, nor do I feel bad. I find myself to be quite apathetic to be honest. Slaughtering the acromantula… I did what was necessary. If left to their own devices the students would be in grave danger, a constant looming threat of being eaten alive, dismembered, or any other equally horrible ways to die.
Well, sure I feel a little bit guilty about it, considering acromantula are capable of speech and intelligent thought, at least, the big ones are. I just thought I'd feel worse about it.
It probably all comes back down to Lockhart.
After killing him I changed, largely for the worse, but with the possibility of a true war looming in the near future I've realized that my being comfortable with killing isn't necessarily the worst thing.
Thinking back on it, it's odd that I didn't react to that Slytherin boy grabbing my robes in fear. Sure, I smacked the shit out of him, but I didn't really react violently, or as violently as I imagine I would. Is it because he's not that much older than me? Because he's not blond?
Really, who knows. I'm just glad that I didn't have another breakdown.
Tiredly wiping my eyes, I realize that I really should get to bed.
I blink one last time, reappearing in my dorm room and scaring the hell out of Hermione, who shrieks in terror.
"My God Helene! Don't do that!" She smacks me on the arm, grimacing when she pulls her hand back and notices the thick layer of spider guts coating my robes. "What… what the hell is this?"
I drag my fingers through my hair, cursing when they get tangled up, more bits and pieces of acromantula stuck in my curls. "Uh… acromantula?" I awkwardly untangle my fingers, wiping them off on my robes.
"A- a- acromantula?" She breathes, horrified.
"Yes?"
"Acromantula."
"Yes?"
Hermione moves to pinch the bridge of her nose, stopping herself as she remembers that her hand is currently coated with a potential biohazard. Her lip curled up in distaste, she pinches her nose with her drastically cleaner left hand. "You are currently covered in acromantula guts. Why?"
"Well, Magna, my basilisk, she died," I explain.
"Your basilisk."
"Yes, my basilisk."
"You had a basilisk."
"Yes?"
"Helene what the fuck are you doing?" She groans in exasperation.
I put my hands up placatingly. "Hermione trust me, this is just what happens in my life. The kind of things the other you and I got up to were just as insane, if not more."
"Well, I've never been so glad to have been uninvolved with what kind of adventures you get up to." Her nose flares and she grimaces once again. "You reek."
"That's going to happen when I've just eliminated the entirety of the acromantula population in the Forbidden Forest."
"…and you did this because your basilisk, Magna died?"
"She kept the population in check. I tried to bargain with them, but they weren't too keen on that." I shrug, not too pleased with the events of the evening. Sure, it doesn't necessarily bother me too deeply, but I don't enjoy what I've done. It's not like I woke up today and said to myself, 'hey, it's time for me to go commit an amount of murder so considerable that it borders on genocide.'
"I guess that makes sense…"
"It was the best option that I had when a few hundred dog sized spiders came pouring out of the woodworks in an attempt to get a bite out of me."
Hermione pales. "A few hundred?"
"Give or take. I was too busy fighting them off to count, but it looked like that many."
"That's… wow. How powerful are you?" she gasps, staring at me disbelievingly.
I shrug. "I did come out of a fight with Dumbledore in one piece, but he did drastically underestimate me."
Hermione nods shakily. "That puts it into perspective," she murmurs, shaking her head. "I'm going to go wash this off," she adds, gesturing towards her filthy hand, before pointing at me. "And you need to burn those clothes and take a shower."
"That was the plan," I say, already walking into the bathroom and dialing up the shower, steam rapidly billows out, filling the room.
After Hermione has scrubbed her hand clean and left, I strip down and step into the shower, basking in its warmth and congratulating myself for a job well done.
-::-
All four of us toss back back a quick breakfast, making our way over to a first period History class. This is my first class with Iolaire, and I just know it's going to be fantastic, judging by the rave reviews the other students have been giving.
As I walk into the classroom, I notice that it now has a personal flair to it. Iolaire has chosen to decorate the barren room, all four house banners hanging up at the far end of the classroom. I study the paintings and photos that he's framed and stuck to the walls. He must have dug them up, as I don't recognize any of them.
All of the paintings are of different historical moments. There's a few battle scenes here and there, Napoleonic landscapes that are illuminated with spellfire, humans, beings, and creatures alike, all fighting across ravaged fields.
I realize that they're all in order, wrapping around the room. The earliest events start at the left of the door, the historical images getting progressively more and more recent as they make their way to the right of it.
The man himself is sitting on his desk, elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward attentively. "Hello everyone! Please, please, take your seats!" Iolaire announces, clapping his hands excitedly. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe that you were just recently studying one of the many Goblin Wars, specifically the Five-Day-War of 1746?"
The class hums loudly, although a few outliers look about in confusion, obviously having not paid attention to the very easy to ignore lecture that Binns had given.
"Excellent, excellent," he proclaims, pointedly ignoring the students who have no idea what he's talking about as he claps once more. "Now, I trust that you all remember what began that very brief war, yes?"
I hold back a grin as Malfoy pipes up without raising his hand. He's going to be in for it. "Would it not be called a rebellion, sir? Creatures can't war against their betters," he sneers.
Iolaire raises his eyebrows comically, a smile spreading across his face.
This isn't going to be good. Well, not for Malfoy that is.
"Creatures you say? What makes Goblins creatures?"
"They're barbaric, of course. They live to serve us wizards," he replies haughtily.
Iolaire lifts one lonesome finger in the air. "Bzzt! Wrong!" He shouts, leaping from his seat and walking to the back of the class, pulling out a piece of chalk and scribbling something onto the blackboard.
I take a minute to marvel at how quickly he's learned to write.
He titles two lists, one labeled, 'Creature,' and the other, 'Being.' Spinning around to face the class he asks us, "Everyone give me reasons why Goblins can be considered either creatures or beings!" He pauses, beckoning with one hand. "Well, come on. I haven't got all day!"
Students begin to pipe up excitedly, the list for 'being' steadily growing much faster than creature.
After a few minutes, he puts his hands up, asking the class to stop. "I'm sure you're all wondering what the results of our impromptu debate were, but it looks like the list speaks for itself," he smiles, gesturing behind himself at the list. "I was particularly proud of Miss Grangers answer. Yes, Goblins are sentient, sapient, and all in between. They have a mind just as we do, and that immediately makes them beings instead of creatures, regardless of what Mister Malfoy may say."
"Preposterous! They live in caves for Merlin's sake!" Malfoy rudely shouts.
Iolaire doesn't even turn to him as he says, "Mister Malfoy, kindly shut your mouth. You leave your bigotry at the door in my classroom."
The class gasps in unison, a few students already chuckling, much to Malfoy's displeasure.
With a huff, he stands to his feet and marches out of the class, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson following in his wake.
Iolaire shakes his head, smiling widely at the class once more. "Everyone, please forget about him and open your textbooks to page four hundred and twelve," he announces, already back into the swing of things.
Hermione immediately flips through her book, taking a moment to grin at me.
I grin back, this class is going to be fantastic.
-::-
"Albus, you wanted to speak with me?" I ask, walking into the Headmasters office as if I own the place.
Technically, I do.
The man asked to have a discussion with me earlier at lunch, and I'm curious about what he could have to say to me.
I'm welcomed by the familiar sight of the Headmaster's mustache bristling in anger, his owlish eyebrows furrowed as he attempts to muster his most contemptful stare. "Yes, I did," he states, his fingers steepled as he holds on to every last scrap of authority that he has. "I was curious about Iolaire, or whatever the creature choses to go by. What is he?"
"The creature?" I ask incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "You do realize that that is the Hat, right? I promised him when I was being sorted that I would try to get him out of your office, he goes stir crazy in here."
"So, you murdered yet another person and forced the Hat's mind into their body?"
I laugh loudly, my cheeks stinging as I wipe a tear from my eye. "Albus, you've got quite the imagination," I snort, stifling another bout of laughter. "I made that body out of my severed hand," I explain, wiggling my still baby-like fingers at him. "I grew another one of course, but that body was just an empty shell before I gave it to Iolaire."
Dumbledore blinks in confusion. "You made a body."
"Yes."
"Is that exclusive to the Blackest Arts, or is it something that you came across in your studies? I've never heard of such a thing," he inquires, too unused to not having all the information.
"Sadly for you, it's a Necromantic ritual. What, were you wanting a fresh new body? Because even if I could make one for you, I wouldn't. You do understand that I despise you, correct?"
"Yes, I do understand that. The feeling is mutual," he retorts through gritted teeth. "I was just… curious."
"Well, you have nothing to worry about with Iolaire." I pause and scratch my head. "Unless you're worried about the students learning some colourful new vocabulary."
Dumbledore shakes his head, apparently not wanting to go down that path. It would surely be a more exciting conversation than speaking about whether or not Iolaire is going to try to eat the students or some other nonsense.
"I spoke to Hagrid the other day, he was quite distraught," Dumbledore suddenly interjects, and I tilt my head questioningly.
"Yes?"
"He told me that he went to visit his old friend Aragog."
Ah. That's what that leads into.
"He found a mass grave in the place of what was once the acromantula's nest. I imagine you had something to do with that?"
I cross my legs, resting my hands on my knee. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that. I know nothing really goes on in this school without your knowing." I shrug, gesturing towards myself. "Although in my case I was a bit more slippery than most."
I smile faintly as Dumbledore bites his lip, restraining his anger.
"If you truly are so curious, I will tell you why I killed the acromantula colony," I say, Dumbledore nodding succinctly in reply.
"Well, after you killed Magna. You know, the basilisk? My friend?" I growl out when Dumbledore looks momentarily confused. "I realized that she was probably responsible for keeping the colonies population in check, and I wanted to prevent any instances of death or dismemberment occurring on school grounds. You may think me evil, but I would never willingly allow the death of a student."
Dumbledore doesn't grace me with a reply to my biting comment, instead asking me, "You gave it a name?"
I scoff loudly. What kind of question is that?
"Of course I gave her a fucking name! I could speak with her! Sure, she wasn't the greatest conversationalist, but she had a mind!" I throw my hands up in frustration, shaking my head at the old man. "It… you call an intelligent animal it. Did you refer to Fawkes the same way? Was he never a he, and only some non-entity, some convenient pet that was a little more clever than normal? She was practically my familiar, Dumbledore. I'm sure you of all people would understand that."
The man has the decency to look mildly ashamed, although I may be mistaken and he's simply mourning the loss of Fawkes as he bows his head.
Most likely the latter.
"Do you have anything important to ask me?"
He shakes his head, a dour look on his face as he stares out the window.
I get up to leave, pausing to stare at the man who I once thought was my grandfather in all but blood. "I used to love you, you know."
He turns to me, wide eyed, and I have to prevent myself from scoffing again.
"Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think that I always hated you? No, I couldn't have. Not before you killed Ron. Your plan worked initially, at least it did in my first life," I explain, taking a moment to collect my thoughts.
This is the man that was responsible for making me, me. He placed me with the Dursley's, and he chose to let the things at Hogwarts occur. Dumbledore created me as much as he created Voldemort.
"I was your little soldier, never questioning, always following. I almost died every year. You almost let me die every year. First, there was Quirrel and the Philosopher's stone, a series of traps set up on the path to the stone that a trio of first years got through with relative ease."
I laugh, realizing that I'm sort of monologuing right now. Whatever, it's not as if the man can tell anyone anything, and I know for a fact that nobody is in the office right now as well as the portraits turning off whenever I enter the room. "I ended up killing him. Eleven-years-old, and I killed a man in self defence. Do you know what that does to someone, Albus? Do you know the effect that has on a child?"
He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, subtly shaking his head. Looks like he's learning.
I rub my shoulder, looking about the room as I think. I begin to speak again, my voice careful as I put my thoughts into words, venting to the man who fashioned me into who I am today. "I thought myself a monster, and all you did to help me was give me a pat on the back and a few half-assed words of comfort. An abused and broken child who had just taken another mans life, and you simply sent me on my way."
I move back to my chair, transfiguring it to be more comfortable. I laugh quietly. It looks like he's in for a story.
"Do you know what happened in second year? Ginny Weasley accidentally brought a memory of Voldemort into the school, a memory that took control of her and let Magna loose upon the students." I shrug in disbelief, remembering the travesty of a year that was.
How I was considered a monster, the way the other students screamed and ran from my shadow. The hexes in the hallways, Malfoy's biting words…
It wasn't a good year for me. Probably one of the worst.
"It's a miracle that nobody died, and you decided that the school didn't need to be shut down, that aurors didn't need to investigate. I don't know why you did that, and I never will as you're not the same Dumbledore who made that decision, but it still boggles my mind that you knew what was in the Chamber and allowed Magna to wreak havoc upon the school." I jab my thumb into my chest aggressively. "I had to kill, once again. A sword through the roof of her mouth, and her tooth in my arm. I almost died. I only lived because Fawkes had come to my rescue, and once again, a congratulatory pat on the back from you and I was sent back to the Dursleys to be whipped into submission."
Dumbledore is silent through all this, staring intently at me as I regale him with my tales from a reality that no longer exists. Oddly enough, I find this to be quite cathartic. Must be something to do with verbally abusing the man who engineered so much sorrow in my last and current life.
"Third year… this year in fact, Sirius escaped Azkaban." I chuckle harshly, giving Dumbledore a sardonic grin. "He was still there, you know? An innocent man trapped amongst demons and you put him there," I hiss, a bit of parseltongue creeping into my voice. Dumbledore shudders at the sound, averting his eyes. "So he got out after finding out that Pettigrew was moonlighting as the Weasleys pet rat. He came to Hogwarts to try and protect me, and you nearly let him be kissed. You chose to send me and Hermione back in time three hours to rescue him instead of telling Fudge to fuck off, and the two of us nearly died. Again.
"So, after rescuing Sirius from a swarm of dementors and having Cornelius Fudge throw a bloody fit trying to arrest a man that you knew was innocent, since you sent two students to go and rescue him. Again, what did you do? Absolutely nothing."
I rub my eyes tiredly, taking a deep breath. I can feel myself getting angry, and I'm not about to throw a bloody tantrum again. "My fourth year, the Tri-Wizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts. I'm assuming that happens again?" I ask, Dumbledore nodding mutely.
Well, that's good. It would have put a damper in my plans if the Tournament was cancelled or hosted by another school.
"Alright, so at least that hasn't changed, and it won't change." I say pointedly, raising my eyebrows at Dumbledore. "You will make sure that the Tournament happens at Hogwarts next year, yes?" Again, he nods, and I clap my hands together in reply. "Excellent. Well, moving on with my lovely story, I was put into the tournament against my will, even after you had put up a half assed bit of protection in the form of an age-line. You didn't do anything to try and get me out of the tournament, one which I was lucky to survive I may add. No, you twiddled your thumbs and allowed me to compete in that farce of a tournament, one which ended in Voldemort's resurrection after I was kidnapped."
I go out of my way not to mention who entered me into the tournament, having need of Barty Crouch Jr. making his way into Hogwarts under the guise of Mad Eye Moody to force me into it once again.
"Resurrection?" Dumbledore asks, eyebrows raised. "He… Voldemort returns at the end of the tournament?"
"Yes, yes he does. And I plan to kill him then, once and for all. I don't think I have to mention that you should not interfere with the Tournament, nor should you pose any investigation to find out who admits my name into the Tournament, as that must happen again."
Dumbledore is forced to nod his assent to my commands, but he doesn't seem to notice this as he's lost in thought. He sits there for a few moments, frowning as he deliberates over some problem unknown to me. After a while, he looks up at me and asks, "After that, what do you plan on doing? When you're no longer bound by the prophecy?"
"Honestly? I haven't a clue." I shrug, lifting one hand lazily. "I just wanted to have a normal life. That's all that I ever wanted. I'm sure I'll finish things at Hogwarts and then find a nice quiet job and do my best to avoid anything that's even remotely excitable."
I laugh at Dumbledore's confused look. "What? Did you expect me to say that I'm going to take over the world? That after killing Voldemort I'll take his place? You're mental Albus. After Voldemort is gone, I'm going to probably help the Weasley twins open up a joke shop. That'll keep me busy for a few years. After that? I don't know, but it won't involve any fighting, war, or adventures of any kind."
Dumbledore looks like he's struggling with something as he digests what I've said. I half expect his head to burst as he fails to understand that I don't want to be a Dark Lady.
I stand up, dusting my robes off and walk out the door, leaving Dumbledore with his thoughts.
-::-
The final months of school sweep by in a tizzy, the first half of the semester once again being the most 'excitable,' portion of the year.
To be honest, excitable isn't the right word to use. Really, it's far from it. I think 'so awfully insane that I can't begin to comprehend how insane it truly is,' or 'terribly dangerous for both my body and mind,' would be more apt descriptors, but that's a bit of a mouthful.
I digress.
I spent the remainder of the year pouring over law books both recent and obscure, looking around to find out why Tracey can't be adopted by the Greengrasses, but I've drawn up nothing.
If anyone would know why, it's Octavius, but this isn't something that you discuss via letters unless it pertains to yourself. Since I'm not Tracey, I'm going to have to speak with him about it after I get off the train, which looks to be stopping in just under an hour.
Tracey knows that I'll be speaking with him, and so does Daphne. They both want to be in on this when I speak with Octavius, as Daphne has been attempting to get an honest answer out of him for the last few years and I can't imagine why he wouldn't tell her.
Speaking of Tracey, she looks to be incredibly stressed right now. She hides it well, but I've learned to pick up on a few of her tells. The most notable one is how she thumbs her chin every so often when she's dwelling on something that makes her nervous.
It think this is the hundredth time she's done that, and her chin is now starting to look a bit red.
"Tracey, hey, everything is going to be alright," I whisper comfortingly, smiling at her.
She turns her eyes to me, nodding shakily and looking back out the window. She begins to systematically crack her knuckles, another one of her nervous tics.
Hermione raises an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head. She frowns, but she doesn't say anything, understanding that whatever the problem is, it's up to Tracey to tell her.
The carriage is silent as we pull into Platform 9 and ¾, and I help the girls get their luggage out, levitating them to the floor and casting featherweight charms on the trunks so that they don't throw out their backs trying to take all of their belongings off the train.
The girls thank me, and I hug the others goodbye as Tracey, Astoria, Daphne and I head off to find Octavius. I notice that Tracey practically glues herself to Daphne's side as we step into the crowd. I can feel the anxiety radiating off of her as she falters forward, nervously glancing around.
"Found him," Daphne announces, inclining her head forward and pointing out the bulky form of her… our dad.
"Hey girls!" Octavius shouts over the crowd, smiling widely. He brings everyone in to a stifling group hug, not noticing Tracey's tense form. "How was school this year?"
"Good, it was good," Daphne interjects. "The tests weren't as awful as I thought they would be, weren't they Helene?"
I nod. "Pretty easy, if I was honest."
"Well, that's because you're a bloody prodigy," she retorts, glaring playfully at me.
I put my hands up in surrender. "Hey, hey. Don't go calling me any names now."
She scoffs lightly, turning back to Octavius. "Home?"
He nods, everyone latching onto his robes as he apparates back to Greengrass Manor. Thankfully, I've gotten used to the sensation and don't end up painting the very lovely hardwood floors with my lunch.
As soon as we land in the house, I turn to him. "Hey, Octavius, can we talk?" I ask, gesturing to Tracey, Daphne and myself.
He quirks an eyebrow but directs us into the sitting room all the same.
"Is everything alright?" He glances between the three of us, tilting his head questioningly.
I look to Tracey and she nods at me, inviting me to go ahead. "Octavius, I… Tracey and I spoke a few months back about her home life." Octavius immediately casts a concerned look at Tracey, worry etched over his features. "She wanted me to talk to you about adoption, specifically why I was adopted, and not her. I'm also wondering the same thing."
Octavius looks momentarily offended, and I put my hand up placatingly. "I'm not blaming you for anything, trust me. I know you would adopt her if you could. I was wanting to know why she can't be adopted and if there's anything that can be done about it. I know Sirius would happily take her in, and in the worst-case scenario, I would induct her into the Potter family."
"It's… complicated," he hesitates, clasping his hands and looking sadly at Tracey. "I would adopt you in a heartbeat Tracey. You're my daughter, even if the Ministry doesn't say the same."
She smiles tearily at him. "I know. It's just… it sucks. A lot."
"I know dear. But there's nothing I can do…" He trails off, glancing at me for just a moment. "There's an odd law in place that says that a child cannot be adopted unless their parents are deceased or have given their permission. It was supposed to prevent line theft, stopping families from kidnapping a child and forcibly adopting them," he explains, noticing our confusion. "So, since your birth parents are still situated in Azkaban, very much alive, and they're incapable of signing you away… I can't do anything."
"Wait," I interrupt. "Are they not alive though? Could we not visit and force them to sign?"
Octavius shakes his head. "No, they've been kissed."
"Then they're dead," I state, perplexed. I notice that Tracey doesn't even flinch at the admission of her birth parents current… status.
"No. People who are kissed are still alive, according to the Ministry," Octavius scoffs, obviously displeased with the ridiculous definition.
"That's absolutely mad! They have no soul, how can they be alive?"
"Don't ask me, I didn't write the damnable law."
I shake my head. "No, I meant how can they be alive? Surely they're just empty bodies. Do they not starve to death?"
Octavius looks at Tracey, before sighing loudly, resigned to what he's about to say. "They keep them alive, so that they can still receive their full punishment. It's because Tracey's birth father was a muggle, they decided to get... creative."
What the fuck. I just know that I look absolutely horrified right now. "That's... that's absolutely barbaric!" I cry.
"And that's exactly why I didn't want to tell you about it," Octavius groans.
"Is that why you never told me that Dad? You always made excuses," Daphne pipes up.
"I didn't want to tell Tracey about her birth parents and the nitty gritty details of what happened to them," Octavius answers after a moment of hesitation, casting another sad glance her way. "I'm sorry that you found out this way dear."
Tracey scowls mockingly, waving her hand. "Don't apologize, I'm happy to hear that they got what was coming to them."
Octavius pales slightly, but nods his assent. "I hate to say such a thing about another human being, but I agree with you." He rolls the fabric of his robes between his fingers, looking pointedly at Tracey and Daphne. "Could you girls please leave Helene and me? I'd like to have a discussion with her myself."
They look at each other, slightly confused, but they listen to Octavius all the same.
As soon as the girls are out the door, he gives me a displeased expression. "Why did you have to bring that up? You had to have known that I didn't tell them why I couldn't adopt her for a reason, didn't you?"
"I knew that, but I also knew that keeping the information from the two of them would hurt them more than telling them," I argue. "Do you know how much it was eating Tracey up? To look at me and see this invader? This new girl taking what should have been her place?"
Octavius leans back in his seat, wiping his face. "I know that… I just- I wanted to keep this from them a while longer. It doesn't do to dwell on things that can't be changed."
"And why can't it be changed?" I ask, already having worked out a fix for this particular situation.
Octavius snorts, chuckling wryly. "What could we do? It's not like I could get their two husks exhumed and destroyed, could I? I may be a powerful man, but I'm not that powerful. It's illegal to have those two put to rest. Supposed to let them suffer longer." He spits out his final sentence, his voice laced with derision.
I have to agree with his disgust. That's absolutely barbaric.
"You forgot about me," I say, raising my hand.
Octavius frowns, before his features grow even more taut as he begins to understand what I mean. He stands up, aggressively wagging his finger in my face. "You will not try to break into Azkaban, do you hear me? The fact that you would even think of that!" He sputters, shaking his head frantically. "Do you not know how incredibly dangerous that is? You could die! The best thing that could happen is you being locked up there for the rest of your life!"
I shoot up off the couch, jutting my chin forward. "I just went toe to toe with Albus Fucking Dumbledore, Octavius. I can talk to dementors. Talk to them. Honest to God communicate with the demons. Breaking into Azkaban would be child's play."
He runs his hands through his hair, torn between frustration, fear, and exasperation. "I don't care! You could die Helene! Do you know how distraught I would be? What about Terra? That would destroy Daphne, not to mention Astoria! Do you not realize how much she dotes on you? How much she admires you? You're her role model!" He lets out a shaky breath, beginning to work himself into a mild panic. "What about your other friends? Hermione, Padma and Lisa? That new girl Luna, or her friend Ginny?"
"This isn't your decision to make!" I shout, flicking my wand and casting a silencing charm upon the room. "I have to fight Voldemort to the death next year, and there's a very good chance that I may not live through that. This? This is just a precursor. If I don't live through that fight, a fight that I cannot avoid for some godforsaken reason, I need to find a way to make sure that all of you are safe! I can easily, and I mean easily take care of the rest of his Death Eaters while I'm at Azkaban. All I have to do is ask the dementors to kiss anyone with a Dark Mark. That's it."
"This is murder you're talking about! Murder!"
I run my hands over my face, pushing my hair back and tangling my fingers in red curls. "Yes, it's murder that I'm talking about. Did you forget about me killing Lockhart in cold blood? What about my very recent murder of Albus Dumbledore? That was what, three, four months ago?"
"That's not the same, and you know it," Octavius argues, pointing aggressively at me, his face flushed. "Lockhart, the degenerate piece of shit that he was, had it coming. If you hadn't have killed him, I would have. Dumbledore? That was just a complicated situation all around, and while I'm not at all pleased about what you did, it was the only thing you could have done."
"This is war, Octavius. You may not see it happening right now, but there is a war on, and I am ground zero. If it's murder to execute a slew of psychopaths that should have been tossed through the veil a decade ago, I will still happily do so. If it's murder to put to rest two empty shells that were once abusive scums, then I will do it with a skip in my step and a smile on my face!"
Octavius' breath hitches, and he swallows deeply, suddenly pulling me into a crushing hug. I squeak in protest and mild fear as he wraps his arms around me, cradling me against his chest. I block out the images of Lockhart that pop up, blinking rapidly as if the motion will stop me from feeling disgust and trepidation.
I guess that reaction does only apply to adult men.
"We can't lose you," he whispers, rocking me back and forth. "Not again."
I gasp quietly, pulling myself away from him and staring into his eyes, noticing the tears that threaten to spill out across his face. My heart freezes, skipping a beat as I realize how distraught he is, how terrified he is at the prospect of losing me.
"I'm not dying any time soon, alright?" I say, backpedalling and placing my hand on Octavius' arm in an attempt to reassure him. "I can be anywhere on the Earth in the blink of an eye as long it's dark and I've been there before, and to the best of my knowledge there are no wards that can stop me. Not to mention, I don't believe Azkaban is very well lit."
He sighs deeply, blinking hard and working his jaw slowly. I hear a loud click as something in his jaw locks into place, causing me to flinch.
"Talk to Sirius about this first, alright?" He asks, his voice strained. "God knows I can't keep you on a leash, but I can do my damndest to keep you safe. If anyone knows the ins and outs of that hell-hole, it's him. Do your research. Plan ahead. I don't want to see my daughter come back home in a coffin."
I gulp loudly, guilt rearing its ugly head. "I'm so sorry," I groan, eyes downcast. "I didn't… I didn't realize how seriously you would take this. I'm so used to doing what I have to do without speaking to anyone about it, and I guess I'm still not used to people being worried about me."
Octavius lifts my chin with one finger, forcing me to look at him. "I care about you. We all care about you. It kills me to know that your childhood was so awful, and I die a little inside every time I see you unsure of how to express yourself, or how you seize up in fear when Sirius or I touch you."
I feel myself blushing in embarrassment, not at all accustomed to Octavius' worried parenting.
"Terra and I love you, Helene. Sirius loves you. Daphne, Astoria, Tracey… all of the girls, they love you. Don't go making suicidal decisions expecting nothing to come of it, because there's a whole lot of people out there that care about you more than you can ever imagine." A sad smirk works its way across his face, and he lets out a quiet breath. "You're getting better, but I want to see you truly happy Helene. I want my daughters, all of you, Tracey included to live a long and healthy life."
"Thank you," I whisper, hugging him back, my head buried in the crook of his arm. "That means the world to me."
He chuckles quietly, the sensation like a calming wave as it echoes through his chest and floods through my body.
I pull back, awkwardly dusting myself off and smiling at Octavius. "I'm glad I can be so open with you."
"I don't know if I can say the same, but I'd prefer knowing everything over not knowing anything," he admits, sighing plaintively. "Just… talk to Sirius, alright?"
"I can do that. Thank you for being honest with me Oct- …dad."
He blinks a few times, not sure if he heard me correctly, before an incredible smile begins to spread over his face, stretching from ear to ear. "Any time dear, any time."
Bearmauls: I'm happy to hear that you accept my need to inject the story with unnecessarily silly humour every so often.
torvalds42: Thank you! I've been doing my best to improve my character writing lately, and that was one of the primary reasons behind my edit of the story, and I'm glad it shows.
PascalDragon: Yes, you could say the problem was well in hand.
I'll see myself out.
But yes, Iolaire is doing his own thing, as you can see. I'm writing him a little bit like a discount and very much toned-down Patch Adams, with a bit of a sarcastic streak.
Severus is a big softy, and I hope that the law I've written here is just as convoluted and ridiculous as any other wizarding law would be.