Chapter 2- Boredom

Altrouge Brunestud was bored. Those four words were enough to make magic users across the world break out in cold sweat. While her bouts of boredom were not nearly as frequent or legendary as those of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Wizard Marshal and fourth dead apostle ancestor, hers were far more deadly.

When Zelretch was bored, people were pranked mercilessly typically leading to torment, humiliation, riotous laughter from others (generally Zelretch himself), and sometimes insanity. To be the target of his attention often ended with a trip to the psychiatric ward and a complete loss of dignity. His pranks were creative and left the Mage's Association scratching their heads wondering how he pulled it off. The magi in the Clock Tower still laughed at the memory of Lorelei Bartheomeloi in a pink magical girl outfit complete with wand waxing poetic on her love of dead apostles, but they only dared do so when they were sure she was out of earshot. Decapitation tended to be a major setback when studying magecraft after all.

When Altrouge was bored cities vanished off the face of the earth leaving nothing except a mountain of rubble and piles of corpses drained of blood.

The very worst instance of Altrouge's boredom occurred during the 14th century and became known as the Black Plague. It decimated Europe, and would have destroyed it completely had her battle with the last of the True Ancestors, Arcueid Bruestud, not occurred. The excitement of the fight, which resulted in a stalemate, eradicated Altrouge's boredom and ended the plague. However, the damage was done and nearly 75 million died earning her the title "Eclipse Princess of Black Blood".

And now, in mid-1981, she was bored again. The magical world, both Wizarding and Magus, had been almost stagnant for over a century. There was nothing new or exciting to do that she hadn't already done a dozen times. Altrouge had even enrolled herself into Durmstrang during the 60's and attended for all seven years, secretly of course. Not even the thought of unleashing her pet, Primate Murder, on the nearby city of Nuremberg interested her. She glanced down at the paper she had stolen from a passing postal owl.

August 10th, 1981

You-Know-Who Strikes Again!

The latest act in You-Know-Who's campaign of terror was an attack on the village of Hogsmeade. More than two dozen of his death eaters attacked early in the morning destroying ten houses and damaging three others before Aurors could respond. The damage done, the death eaters vanished as suddenly as they had arrived leaving only death and chaos in their wake. Among those confirmed as dead are Fabian and Gideon Prewett who had been residing in a cottage at the edge of town. The minister says...

She tossed the paper onto the ground next to her with a sigh; it was just more of the same. Thingy-mort (she could never remember his name as the papers never printed it) was still gallivanting around the British countryside striking terror with his hit-and-run tactics. How boring. At least Grindelwald had created an actual army and had no qualms about wading into battle at its head.

"Well, I suppose it has been a while since I last 'played' with a dark lord. I missed out on Grindewald as I was in Argentina at the time." Altrouge sighed again. "Might as well go check it out as there is nothing better to do. I do hope he at least makes the chase interesting."

She jumped off the branch she had been sitting on and began to walk towards the city. "I suppose the best place to start would be London. Zelretch surely knows where he is and can point me in the right direction."

Thomas Dent liked to think of himself as a first rate magus. Being from a family of magi five generations long and having average abilities, he wasn't anything special. He dreamed of becoming a department head one day, but barring extraordinary circumstances it would never happen. However, if he didn't delude himself about his own abilities he would never be able to leave bed in the morning so it wasn't necessarily bad that he did so.

'Still,' he thought, 'it would be nice to have someone finally recognize my ability. I would make a far better department head than Rocco.'

Thomas sighed and finished preparing his lecture materials for the day. Every day was the same: wake up, eat breakfast, prepare his lecture, eat lunch, deliver his lecture, research in his workshop, eat dinner, continue experimenting, and finally go to sleep only to repeat the process the next day.

'No! I mustn't think that way, I WILL be a department head. I only need to continue doing my best every day and that outcome is inevitable.'

And with that he put his notes into his briefcase and left his workshop into the maze of passages that make up the Clock Tower.

The Clock Tower is one of the three main branches of the Mage's Association and the headquarters of the association as a whole. It is located, as its name implies, underneath downtown London. Much of it is hidden beneath the British Museum, completely unknown to mundane folk (or, as wizards call them, muggles). It is a large underground complex which stretches from the Museum to Big Ben (where its name originated), the Houses of Parliament, and the Tower of London.

Unlike the neighboring Ministry of Magic, the focus is on research not governance. The reason for this difference is primarily due to the significant difference in the magics used by wizards and magi. There was no small amount of resentment on the magus side due to the ease with which wizards are able to wield their magics. All a wizard needs is a wand and some butchered Latin and voila! Meanwhile magi spend their whole lives delving into the mysteries of their magic and must shed blood, sweat, and tears to even use their magic. A magus walks with death after all while a wizard simply goes to school.

Because of all this, along with a number of other factors, wizards and magus have separated into two distinct communities with very little interaction. They acknowledge each other's existence and nothing else, both believing the other to be inferior. So when a mass murdering psychopath of a dark lord is running around killing Wizards, the Mage's Association ignores him as long as he leaves them alone.

As Thomas walked towards the cafeteria lost in delusions of grandeur, he failed to notice the girl walking in the opposite direction and knocked her over.

"Oh I'm dreadfully sorry about that, are you all right?"

The girl didn't answer. As Thomas looked at her he found that he did not recognize her, and that she looked rather young to be part of the Association. Perhaps she was visiting a relative.

"Are you lost?" He asked. "The corridors are rather difficult to navigate. Even I still become lost on occasion!" Thomas said with a laugh.

His laugh fell flat; the girl clearly was not amused by his attempt at humor. Silence prevailed between them once more.

The girl finally stood up, dusted herself off, then looked into his eyes and spoke.

"Where can I find Zelretch?"

Her eyes were a deep crimson, the color of blood. Thomas froze and the blood drained out of his face. He had just knocked down a dead apostle. His life was forfeit. For all his delusions of grandeur, Thomas knew he could never hope to defeat even the weakest apostle. He also knew that he was not facing a mere apostle; he could tell she was far stronger than that. She continued to stand there and stare at him, making no moves.

After what felt like hours to Thomas, but was likely no more than a few seconds, his mind restarted.

'What is an apostle doing in the Clock Tower? They usually remain in hiding far from the wrath of The Queen. Any normal apostle will be destroyed in an instant when facing her.'

And then his brain finally managed to identify the girl in front of him. She was no normal apostle. She was Altrouge Brunestud, the ninth ancestor.

His brain promptly shut down once more due to shock.

"Figures that the one time I actually need him, he's nowhere to be found," Altrouge said. "Perhaps Lorelei will have the information I want."

She released the poor magus from her gaze and began walking back the way she came.

Once she was out of sight Thomas collapsed onto the floor into a quivering pile of limbs. He still lived, somehow. He needed a drink. He needed ten drinks! Department head? What was he thinking! He couldn't even speak once he had made eye contact with that monster.

It was just too much for him, he was done. Someone else could teach his damn class. He needed to take a long vacation. The Bahamas were supposed to be nice this time of year.

Lorelei Barthomeloi, The Queen of the Clock Tower, was many things. She was an immaculate magus, more powerful than anyone else in the Association. She hated dead apostles with a burning passion that surpassed the hatred of other Barthomeloi by an order of magnitude. She was an excellent apostle hunter, purposefully fighting them when they were at their strongest so she might watch them despair before squashing them like bugs. She was so powerful she had killed two dead apostle ancestors herself in single combat.

One thing she was not, however, was being good at paperwork. She hated paperwork with a passion. Her true joy was in hunting dead apostles, and her thrice-damned paperwork kept her chained behind a desk doing her duties as the Vice Director of the Clock Tower instead of hunting her prey.

The Dead Apostles, or as mundanes call them, vampires, originated as servants of the True Ancestors, vampiric beings of great power, modeled after Brunestud of the Crimson Moon: the one and only Type-Moon. He was the Ultimate One of the moon who moved to Earth to assist Gaia, the will of the planet, in defending itself against the damage humans were causing the environment. The resulting guardians created in collaboration between Brunestud and Gaia were the True Ancestors of which only one, Arcueid Brunestud, still lives.

The True Ancestors used their vampiric abilities to turn humans into servants that had a limited form of immortality. Eventually their servants managed to overthrow the bonds of their masters and escape, becoming Dead Apostles. The twenty-seven apostles to escape became known as the Dead Apostle Ancestors and ruled over all later created apostles. Most of the original ancestors have been sealed or killed and were later replaced by strongest apostles.

As vampiric creatures, the apostles have many of the powers and weaknesses attributed to them by fiction. Because they are technically dead, they require blood to maintain their bodies, sometimes in great quantities. They are able to turn those they drain into new undead, though only a few have strong enough life force to become dead apostles themselves. Due to the condition of their bodies, most apostles are weak to sun and cannot cross large bodies of water. They also develop a number of other abilities over their long lifespan, one of the most prominent being regeneration through rewinding their body's time to a point just before they were injured.

To most the dead apostles were monsters capable of destroying towns and powerful enough to kill, drain, and then turn most magi. The ancestors, being the strongest of their kind, were insurmountable barriers much like the Types. Beings so far removed from humanity that it was almost inconceivable that they could be beaten.

To Barthomeloi they were bugs, the only thing they were good for was squashing and she was the boot. However, they were well hidden behind special barriers and it often took years to pinpoint their location so that they might be assaulted and destroyed.

Barthemeloi was currently attempting to do just that, she was trying to pinpoint the tenth dead apostle ancestor, Nrvnqsr Chaos, and was having a great deal of trouble doing so. The reports on his movement and locations were inconsistent; she simply could not triangulate his position. She glared at her stack of paperwork that had been abandoned hours ago, as if somehow it was to blame for her current predicament.

A voice spoke from behind her, "You won't find him like that you know."

She jumped. Her arm inadvertently hit the pile of paperwork she had set aside for later sending it to the floor. "What?" She had been sure she was alone in the room.

"Chaos likes travelling, he moves around far too much to pin down his location like that. Even I don't know where he is right now."

"Well I suppose that makes sense, thanks for the help miss..."

"Altrouge."

"Now I know my mind is playing tricks on me from being cooped up in my office for too long. For a minute there I hallucinated that a dead apostle ancestor was here in my office with me."

She heard giggling behind her, and turned. Sure enough, Altrouge Brunestud was standing right behind her chair giggling.

"I wish I had known earlier that you were this much fun," Altrouge said getting herself back under control. "I'll have to visit more often."

Barthomeloi could feel a headache forming and rubbed her temples to keep it at bay. "So what are you doing here apostle?"

"Well you see, I'm bored."

Barthomeloi froze. She knew that dead apostles were easily bored because of their lifespan and to them amusement was their ultimate goal. Most of them did it by competing against one another for territory, pretending that warfare was a game. And to them it was. But not Altrouge. Instead she amused herself by travelling around the magical world. Because of this she became bored far less than the others, but when bored tended to simply annihilate whatever community was nearest. Time seemed to stop and Altrouge's voice looped in her mind. 'One wrong move and we all die,' thought Barthomeloi. 'If she summons that monster of hers here, the Association will be destroyed in an instant with London sure to follow. I blame Zelretch for this.'

"So I remembered that there is a 'dark lord' Thingy-mort gallivanting around the countryside and want to play with him. I was in South America for the last one and missed out."

The Queen released her breath and slumped into her chair. "So you wish to find him?"

"Yup!" Altrouge said brightly, "I was going to ask Zelretch but he's nowhere to be found," she finished with a pout.

'I knew it!'

"I'm afraid I can't give you his exact location," The Queen replied, "we don't know it ourselves."

"That's fine, it would be no fun otherwise." Altrouge said walking out from behind her before jumping up and sitting on Barthomeloi's beautiful mahogany desk. The Queen resisted the urge to shove Altrouge off her baby, but the mental image gave her great pleasure.

After a moment of glorious imagination, she began to speak, "We have been tracking the movements of his followers in case he decides to come for the Association as well."

"He would have to be utterly incompetent if he did so as it would result in his imminent destruction. Thingy-mort must know that at least," Altrouge declared.

"He has proven himself to be insane, but not incompetent. It is unlikely that he will take that form of action, but it always possible," The Queen continued. "He was born a Tom Marvolo Riddle in December of 1926 and had a mundane father and magical mother who died in childbirth. Tommy now prefers to go by the name 'Lord Voldemort' and has aligned himself with the traditionalist pureblood faction despite being a half blood himself. His greatest backers include the Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Dolohovs, and the Carrows. Now as for his possible locations, we believe he might be..."

"Stop, that's enough information for me. It would be no fun if I had too much information to start with. Visiting the families you mentioned should provide plenty of leads for tracking down Tommy-mort."

Altrouge jumped off the desk and began to leave while humming softly, then stopped "Ah, as thanks for the help, I think I'll give you a present."

She was gone. One second the apostle was near the door to Barthomeloi's office, the next she simply could not be found. There was a sharp pain in her neck, she could not move, she was getting cold, she could not see, she could not think.

Bartheomeloi sat up with a start. She must have fallen asleep in her office while doing paperwork again. It was dark in the room; most of the lights had gone out. How long had she been out? She stretched and looked down at her desk. There was a bottle with a glass and a note. How kind of her secretary to bring her some wine for when she woke up, she was so very thirsty.

She picked up the note and read it.

Lorelei,

As thanks for the information on Tommy-mort I have given you a gift. I imagine you are quite thirsty at the moment, enjoy the drink as it is one of the best. Once you get used to your new condition...

Her new condition? Suddenly it all came back to her, the meeting, the "present", everything. Damn it, she was an apostle herself now, Barthomeloi realized with a groan.

Once you get used to your new condition, you can be number 12 since you killed the previous holder of that position, so it's only right that it becomes yours. Enjoy!

Altrouge Brunestud

"DAMN YOU ZELRETCH!"

-End Chapter 2-

Author's Note:

Altrouge is a very whimsical person. She's not really good or evil (or at least not in her own mind, most others think her evil though), but tends to be rather chaotic in her actions. A good example of this is that Altrouge did not visit The Queen intending to turn her, she simply decided to do so because she felt like it as she was heading for the door. Again, you can blame Zelretch for this occurring, along with anything else that should never occur in either canon universe. Also, it happened because I thought it would be funny to turn the most anti-vampire person in Fate into one.