One Eyed Alchemy Chapter 12.

A pitch-black, foggy night had descended upon the Hogwarts grounds by the time that a large golden swan, carrying a small drake in its claws, took to the heavens and turned towards the southern skies unaware of the two eyes watching in the distance.

The observer's name was Trismegistus, a god of alchemy and magic. When he'd first arrived upon these highlands he'd been forced to admit his respect for that mortal Nicholas. The castle was built in the midst of a strong barrier, meant to trap any and all divinities that set foot within it, and the god of magic had recognised the divinity in an instant.

"He'd" been exposed to this authority once before, during his fight with the serpent Apepophis, when the warden goddess had used it to set a boundary from which no divinity could escape.

The warden authority, belonging to the scorpion-goddess had, back then proved instrumental in their defeat of the God of Chaos. Keeping the serpent sealed within and protecting his fellow gods from some of the deadliest venoms the world had ever known.

But now, it was in his way. A cunning ploy by that mortal alchemist, and one he could respect, to hide his treasure on land protected by his old ally. Combined with the presence of a young devil, who'd no doubt engage him the moment he revealed himself, he had to admit a degree of respect for Nicholas' cunning.

It wouldn't stop him though, nothing would. His domains were varied and the boundaries that were no doubt meant to trap him were amongst them, if he truly wanted to he could've removed the castles protections with a single gesture and he'd have his treasure in an instant.

But using his divine authorities in such a manner would go against the spirit of this competition, and he intended to win it fair. So instead, he'd set up a plot of his own.

First, he'd instructed one of his followers to alert some of the seedier aspects of this community about this castle's hidden treasure. He'd waited to see which greedy mortals would take the bait, and placed a small enchantment on the poor fools mind, letting him "guide" their decisions to his own advantage.

And then, he'd settled himself down outside the boundary, and waited. Studying the divine energies flowing through the lands around the castle, and after months of studying devised a spell to redirect those energies, just long enough to allow him to open the door for just a little while.

Thirdly: he'd studied the young devil hidden amidst the children attending this school. The greatest protection Nicholas had managed to arrange. And over the course of months he'd discerned their twin authorities.

One, gained from the warden of this place, that granted mastery of venom. And a second that granted a variety of divine beasts.

And now, with the moon shining overhead was the time for him to make his move. Using the spells crafted over the months, he opened the door just long enough for the Godslayer to escape towards the continent, planted his staff into the ground and spoke.

"I shall make the fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole, that all whom are bitten and see it shall live"

The staff glowed a brass-toned light, as he weaved his magic, and by the time the golden swan flew its way across the distant horizon, a large brass serpent had taken its place. An authority he'd stolen, in days long past from a desert-god, the Nehushtan possessed the power to nullify any poison, and would be invaluable to him, should the child-king return.

With the unwitting guard abandoning his post, the god marched his way across the boundary, unimpeded.

Lupa and her pack were enjoying themselves in the misty woods, guided only by the moon's dim light, as they enjoyed the freedom of the hunt. Chasing their prey through the dark of the night. The small white creature bounding through the underbrush as it hopped along the ground.

The rest of the pack followed Lupa's lead in their master's absence, The young king having flown away just before the sunless time came once more. There was something uniquely freeing about running without their master, without the strange and arbitrary whims of the human to restrain their desires mere seconds before their kills.

Master rarely let the pack run as free as they wished, but tonight he'd left them to hunt on their own, and the pack was going to enjoy their chance at a true hunt once more.

Well, as much of a "true" hunt as it could be, Master had forbidden them from the two-legged prey who inhabited the stone den in the clearing, or the four-legged hooved critters that wandered these woods, and the large bearded man who protected these lands before master ever brought them here. Master had ordered the pack to protect those, and Lupa had no will to go against master.

But the rest of those who lived within the woods were free for the taking, already they'd devoured a small colony of large spiders, a red-tailed fox and they'd even gotten into a scramble with their mortal kin.

Their current prey though, was a small white rabbit, desperately bounding through the moonlight seeking its borough, as the snapping jaws trailed its small form as it used its smaller form to evade the pack, leading them through bushes and bramble that would have torn the fur of their mortal brethren. The bramble slowed the pack though, barely enough for their prey to find its shelter beneath the unearthed roots of a large tree.

So, the pack turned their noses to the sky once again, to find their newest prey.

The smell of blood, hung from the tree as a silver fluid dripped from its branches. A wounded beast? The promise of an easy prey was tempting.

Lupa howled towards the heavens, and the pack set chase once more following the thin silver trail through the woods.

Quirinus Quirrell, regretted every choice he'd ever made, as the taste of silver blood stained his tongue. The dagger in his hands, coated in the unicorn's lifeblood, a heavy presence on his mind.

It'd been half a year since he took that ill-fated trip to Albania, and had his first run-in with the accursed spectre that now inhabited his body. At the time, he'd still had the energy to fight the spirit, but seeing his own wand turn on him over the month leading up to the new schoolyear, he'd soon learned this wasn't a fight he'd be able to win.

Growing up during Voldemort's reign of terror. Quirinus had dreamed about the Dark lord's defeat, and spent many a night dreaming, his mind casting himself as the hero to banish the dark Lord and restore peace to the wizarding world.

How foolish he had been back then, to believe he could ever stand a chance against such a power as his newfound lord. Nowadays Quirinus could hardly control his own body unless his master let him, and he'd become resigned to his fate. The possessing spirit draining his soul, in both the literal and metaphorical sense, had taken a toll on his body and made it even harder to fight back against his master's command.

The commands had varied over the months. Sometimes they were simple "Kill the witness" and "Follow the Keeper of the Keys through Diagon", some were hard like "Smuggle a Dragon's egg", "Break into Gringotts" and "Set the troll loose unnoticed", which had inevitably been followed by "Smuggle a new monster into Hogwarts to replace the troll before Dumbledore notices you aren't protecting the stone".

And most recently, "…drink."

Kneeling in the dark woods, he cast one last glimpse towards the castle, it's windows lit by candlelight before touching his lips to the opened neck. Drinking in the blood, he felt his body heave as the taste of copper touched his tongue, his mouth protesting against the heinous act. Yet as he kept drinking the foul liquid, he felt himself regain some of the strength the spirit had stolen over the last half-year.

At least, it seemed the books were right about the blood's rejuvenating power. He got up to his feet once more, as a howling resounded through the mists. Maybe the rumours of werewolves in the forbidden woods were true?

"I remember… the wolves that inhabited these woods when I attended these halls", the spectre spoke, the whisper in his mind both a calming presence, and a dark portent. "They shall make an excellent opportunity to test your regained strength".

A simple use of the point me spell later, Quirrell turned into the dark woods. Wand at the ready. Moving through the mists, ears focused on the sound of padded feet through the underbrush.

A small, black blur burst from the bushes, a wand flicked and the forest flashed with green light, and the lifeless hound, the size of a muggle automobile, fell into the mud before him. Quirinus took on a battle-ready stance, preparing himself for the rest of the pack.

"Strange…" His master's voice whispered in the back of his head. "I remember those beasts, the half-giant raised beneath his bed… their fur was… lighter back then". His master went on, as Quirrell carefully flicked his wand at the corpse, repelling it away form him. Pleased at the distance he send the large beast. It was more than he would've managed before drinking from the blood.

"I believe they used to be smaller as well…" His master went on, "But then, those were mere cubs I saw back then.. This must be the alpha then…"

A deep growl interrupted the spirit, as Quirrell turned towards the noise behind him.

Over a dozen deep, glowing golden eyes surrounded by midnight-black stared towards him, A pack of wolves, larger than the one behind him stared. White fangs glimmering in the moonlight.

Scabbers, Also known as Peter Pettigrew was staring boredly out the Gryffindor tower window. Life as a rat was, all in all, quite a boring affair. Boring, but safe, as long as he avoided the owls and cats inhabiting the castle.

Luckily for Pettigrew, none of the students in Ron Weasley's assigned dorm had cats, and the owl's generally kept to the rookery. So he had free reign in this dorm to spend his nights looking out the window, reminiscing on the days when he and his friends used to run around the forbidden forest in their animagus forms.

Which is what he spent most of his nights doing these days, he really didn't have anything else he could do. Life as a traitor to the winning side was honestly miserable, and there wasn't a day in his life that went by where he didn't wish he'd had the courage to resist Voldemort's bargain.

That was how he'd spent the last decade or so of his life, dreaming of what could've been, trapped in the life of a tiny rat. From time to time, he'd considered running away from the Weasley household, but he hadn't wanted to risk life as a rat in the wild. And Peter, well he was dead, a famous war hero with his name plastered on the front page when he "died avenging the Potters". A man with multiple memorials dedicated to him (though not as any as James and Lily). His face was too easily recognisable, and Polyjuice was too expensive.

So Wormtail was trapped. The greatest freedom available to him, the freedom to crawl around the Gryffindor dorm in relative safety. His greatest hobby, watching the forbidden forest out the window, and dreaming about days gone by.

Which is why he noticed, when a part of the forest flashed a bright green. And then, a little while later flashed twice more.

Which is why he noticed, a small blur of smoke traveling between the trees.

And why, when the smokey-spirit turned towards Hogwarts, and the mark on his arm started to burn with a familiar pain. Peter Pettigrew, and not Scabbers, was the one who greeted his master.

Ron Weasley, was dreaming once again.

The castle's familiar misty halls, he'd wandered. He'd bypassed the hound. Taken the horse past the soldiers with flaming eyes, and he was once again at the graveyard.

This was the bit that kept waking him up. And he really, really hoped he'd be able to sleep past it for once, or at least to remember one more name.

So he wandered between the tombstones, trying by god to find any pattern whatsoever amidst the varied names. Spending weeks memorising three at a time, and relaying them to Harry for him to send to the Witangemot.

"Robert Branch", "Isaac Smith" and "Johnathan Cook". He decided, would be the names for today.

Names that meant nothing to him, nothing more than "Man I don't know". Which seemed to be the unifying factor between most of the tombstones to be honest. Not the "do not know", but the "Man" part that is.

All the tombstones, were male.

Harry's contacts had told him most the names seemed to live in Hogsmeade, and the immediate area. But that still came no closer to figuring out what this vision meant.

Turning right at "Charles Emptrouser", he steadied his resolve and found himself in front of a familiar stone once more.

"Harry James Potter", the large tombstone, overgrown with purple flowers read. He'd never dreamt past this point before.

But this time, he noticed something new, the sound of leathery wings, as a large winged shadow flew in the distance, approaching at a speed that made high-end racing brooms pale in comparison.

The dragon, because what else could it be. Released a bellowing roar, and the flowers wilted.

And Ron sprang upright in his bed, to the sight of a two-faced figure, one bearing the face of a rat, and the other looking like a nightmare come to life.

"Imperio…"

To address the reviewer Ariadne Venegas. I agree that the hallows are important, but the fact is that they don't do anything that Harry wouldn't already get due to the authorities the story requires. Also, the wand doesn't guarantee victory in magical battles, remember Dumbledore lost it in battle to Malfoy, it's a good artefact and it'll be very crucial in the upcoming chapter. But with the authorities that I've planned for Harry the other two would just get kind of redundant? So they'll be included in the story, but they won't be "Harry's", if that makes sense?

So, let's see if I can write an entire chapter without Harry even showing up once. (I mean, the wolves technically are "a part of" Harry, but they're also separate enough that its not like they ARE Harry)

So, I decided to answer a question that I don't think cannon answers, that being "how the ever-loving fudge did Tom even know about the stone being in Hogwarts, and which bank vault before then."

So, the chant given used by Trismegistus when summoning the brass serpent (Nehushtan) is taken almost straight from Numbers 21:4-9, just modified to be first-person.

So, I had to write Quirrell, who is canonically pretty much a non-entity. All we know about him is that he used to be a promising teacher, went to Albania to get experience fighting the dark forces, got some experience LOSING to the dark forces. And is now cursed.
That doesn't give me a lot to work off, but I tried to make it work.
I decided that, a recognised fighter against the dark forces, currently hooked up on unicorn blood (possibly a magical steroid) should at least be allowed to kill ONE wolf, before being devoured. Let him die with the little dignity he had before he got possessed.

Bet you all didn't expect Pettigrew to become relevant this quickly right? Yeah, I didn't either, honestly while rewriting this I realised that my original plan (Possess Severus) made less sense than this (He has two options, both marked. Severus is more useful as an undercover agent, Pettigrew is a better sacrificial pawn) and I was like "well, that's a way better plan for Tom to improvise." So, that's good news for Severus, who doesn't get to suffer the bad health-effects of possession (as he would've in my first rough draft).
In my mind, Pettigrew is defined by two things, Courage, and a slight degree of regret/despair. I decided to play up the "what have I done, sweet Jesus what have I done" side of the character a bit.

I am also glad to announce I've sort of figured out what to do about Hermione, because Ron was easy, just lean more into his canonical latent divination-powers, Hermione was just kind of "how will I have this affect her", and make her better. So I think I found at least something to do with her. (not a lot, but better than nothing.)

The brass serpent, Nehushtan, (who might be related to the Hindu snake-king Nahusha) is believed the be a relic of a minor god of protection from snakebites.

Trying to write part of the chapter from the POV of a wolf was fun, but also weird, having to resort to descriptions for words they would lack a concept for.

So, I'm not even going to pretend to feel sorry for the Cliff-hanger, I don't care if its manipulative, I just want feedback whether I got the manipulation to work correctly.