Hello everyone again, and Have a happy new year. May these coming 365 days bring you to a state of well being and happiness, or maintain it!
I like this daily uploading. It feels like I'm broadcasting episodes. I am a little put out though that nobody bothered to comment a little on the whole meticulous design of school uniforms and crest for the Athenian school. Did you not like it even a little bit? Or is Rasmus so awesome that you wouldn't notice if I said that everyone was naked in that office? *chuckle*
Let's see then, what other pieces there are on the chess board, shall we?
Onwards! Chapter 4.
***
Rita Skeeter glanced around her nervously, tugging at her coat and avoiding eye contact with the muggles swarming around her. She hated venturing out into muggle London, where nobody knew her, and she knew nobody- and nothing. The looks some of those- people gave her! As if they were seeing a circus freak. A child even pointed and giggled, as if something was wrong with her clothes, her hair, or her face. And his mother just pulled him along, hurrying away the way one would hurry away from a Knockturn Alley inhabitant.
She snorted. Muggles. What did they know?
Her heels clacked upon the pavement as she followed the instructions to the meeting place. It turned out to be a museum of some sort, with wax figures leering at everyone from all angles the moment one stepped in- even on the staircase they had perched a wax kid sitting precariously on it. The muggles around her seemed to love it, and she felt out of sorts and disoriented, dumbly going up the stairs with the crowd until someone grabbed her upper arm and yanked her away from the stream of people.
"Follow me," the man muttered. He was blonde and blue eyed this time- his glamour over his face changed every time, and only the voice remained the same.
"You're hurting me," she complained, stumbling to meet the wider stride. The man forced her through rooms upon rooms filled with those wax dolls of people standing around in various types of costumes, until they reached a room with a little train-like contraption. The Spirit of London it was announcing garishly, and the man shoved her into one of those moving seats, and sat down heavily next to her as well.
He didn't speak until the show- more wax dolls in various scenes, some of which she recognized vaguely from history lessons, like the great fire of London, making a racket that would effectively drown their voices. Why the man would not cast a silencing charm was beyond Rita Skeeter, but she didn't ask him. They were under an agreement not to.
"I saw him in Diagon Alley, just as you said," she reported. "There was another wizard with him, guarding him at all times."
"That's Nikos Galanos. He's very dangerous. You'll have to wait until he can't be around the boy to approach him."
"Fine, fine. But then you'll let me run the story, right?"
"Right," the man conceded.
"The way I want to? No text editing?"
"As long as you keep us out of it."
"Naturally," Rita grinned and thrust her palm out at the man. He dropped a pouch of coins on it. She pocketed it and sat back, waiting for the ride to finish, stroking her wand under her purse. Thank Merlin for dictating spells, she thought smugly, knowing that back in her office, there would be insurance waiting for her.
***
Rasmus folded the greek school uniform carefully and put it in the bottom of his school trunk. Then he slid it at the foot of his bed. His Slytherin bed, in the Slytherin dorm for fifth years. He smiled to himself and rose up, standing to the mirror to tie the silver and green tie around his neck before pulling on his robes.
"You look dashing, dear," the mirror said as he brushed his hair back. Rasmus chuckled a little self-consciously.
"Thanks, mirror; but I'm not handsome or dashing. Check out the nose," he turned his profile to the mirror, flaring his nostrils to underline his point.
"But that's what gives you personality," the mirror argued. Rasmus shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"That's what my mother used to say. Thanks, anyway." He hurried away from the mirror and directed himself out of the dormitory- and right in front of his Head of House.
Septima Vector smiled at him, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
"Hullo, mr. Snape," she said.
"Eh, hello, professor," he said cautiously. At the small pause, he tried to side step and walk past the professor, but she stepped in front of him again.
"Not so fast," she grinned again. "I am here for you. Your uncle mentioned that you were advanced in some courses, due to the nature of the greek curriculum, and the Headmistress thought it wise not to bore you entirely with only the fifth year material, but grant you participation in some of the more advanced electives of the sixth and seventh year if you make the cut for them."
Rasmus smiled, his eyes lighting up.
"That's great, professor, thanks."
"I trust you already have a list of higher level classes you'd like to attend?"
"Uh, yes! Of course," Rasmus nodded. "I'd like more advanced Potions, Runes and Defence Against the Dark Arts, if possible."
Professor Vector's eyes showed a bit of disappointment, but then the dangerous gleam returned to her eyes.
"All right; then the rest of August, the professors teaching these subjects will first test you on the fifth year material, to ensure you have covered that, and then give you one task as homework to grant you entry to the sixth or seventh year, depending on the difficulty. You will still need to sit your OWLs though."
Rasmus nodded and smiled, looking forward to it all. If everything went according to plan, he would gain the access he wanted before the castle was filled with students, and everything that would force him to face. The Head of House left to inform the Headmistress, and Rasmus grinned after her before turning to go find Nikos and inform him.
But halfway down the corridor, he was stopped short by the voice that made his heart skip once in a pang of grief.
"This is a mistake, son."
He turned sharply to his left. In the painting of a large meadow with playful horses, was standing the figure of his father- the painting styles clashed harshly. Severus' expression was worried.
"What is a mistake? That I want to try for higher level classes? You and I know I can!"
Severus scowled.
"Don't get smart with me, boy! You know I am not talking about your academics! You are up to something. Until yesterday I thought it was just about forcing the Hat to do your bidding but no; I saw that Nikos' airs- he had the look of dabbling in trouble; and righteous trouble at that, the worst kind! He's pulling you into trouble, just like he used to with Aello!" He pointed at his son accusingly, squinting his eyes.
Rasmus frowned and snorted.
"Nikos is here to protect me, on your arrangements, might I add: Yours and mother's. Didn't you and mother pick my godfather knowing that you'd both die soon enough for me to need him?"
Snape scowled again.
"Aello trusted her brother in Greece, and I trusted nobody in Britain. What is going on?"
Rasmus swallowed, and leaned against the wall next to the portrait. He shut his eyes and sighed.
"We… don't know."
"You can't lie to me, Rasmus Octavian Snape," Snape said angrily, his lip curling in anger. "What has Nikos seen in his charts? What is going on?"
Rasmus gritted his teeth, torn between telling his father's portrait everything, and waiting for the right time. Remember this is not your father- not fully. As a portrait he's bound to do what McGonagall orders him, and tell her what he sees and learns. He breathed in and leaned off the wall.
"We don't know. Just let it go, dad. I got studying to do."
Snape was left there, trapped in the frame, staring after his son for a few moments before he, too, purposefully switched frames.
***
Minerva smiled at the Snape boy's chaperon, offering him a cup of tea.
"When will you be returning to Greece, Mr. Galanos? I know your term starts in early September as well."
"Actually, I am on leave for this trimester, so that I can focus on my project," Nikos smiled back in the amiable way he seemed to have with everyone. "Not in Hogwarts, mind you- I don't want to abuse your hospitality. But I will make arrangements to stay in Hogsmeade until Rasmus really settles into everyday life, and use my time in the UK to benefit from your indispensable magical libraries."
"Oh," Minerva said, and somehow felt ill at ease at this announcement. "And what is your project, if I may be so bold?"
Nikos grinned like a school boy himself.
"By all means. I am an Arithmancer, but that was not always my area of expertise."
"I do seem to recall that you were a Healer," Minerva nodded. "You prolonged your sister's life impressively much."
"Thank you, but that is unfair praise. Severus did most of that, back in '84 when he took the challenge."
"Arithmantic Enhancement of Potion Making," I believe was the title of the thesis Severus wrote after his sabbatical," Minerva looked at the younger wizard pointedly. She wondered idly just how old he was. He looked to be Severus' age, or around that- but wizards aged very slowly. Madame Hooch was a good example of that.
Nikos nodded.
"You're right- I plead guilty. At that time I had already began dabbling in Arithmancy to enhance treatment of Craigh Disease and maybe even Heal it, but I needed a potion maker of mastery level who wouldn't be afraid to be blown across Delphi while brewing and would be good enough to work around potion ingredient interactions. Hence, Severus. He was absolutely brilliant."
"Severus always was brilliant in everything he took upon himself to complete," Minerva said, side looking at the frame on her left. It burned at the edge of her tongue to ask the greek wizard if Rasmus was not the result of some arithmantic potion by product, but she couldn't bring herself to with Snape there watching. And he was, though he sat in his portrait's armchair as still as if he were inanimate.
***
The door to the office closed, the room warded for sound, the man stood respectfully, waiting to rattle off his progress report to the one sitting behind the desk of a muggle, very muggle, post office. The man behind the desk rolled his wand in his hands as he asked in a quiet voice:
"The reporter will get us his blood. How are we doing with the scarab and ankh?"
"They will be here soon enough."
"I need a date, Avery! Or I won't be able to make the charts work for the ritual."
"Antonin said October 3 at the latest."
"Fine. Then we are good to go."
"And what about Galanos?"
"You leave that twat to me. He will not survive September."
The man nodded, and his superior waved him off, hiding his wand as he picked up his muggle pen and muggle post office seal.
***
And that's that! As it's New Year's, I don't have the time to answer the reviews now, but I will tomorrow, so feel free to comment here for both chapters if you want, add things, you know. I'll be avidly answering them!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and leave me review presents in return ;)
So Happy New Year!