Chapter 3 - Before Utopia
/So where did she go?/
/Back to the TARDIS. I don't think she appreciates your company/
/But I'm charming/
/…/ Both the Doctor and the Master were enjoying these little mind conversations, even though neither were about to admit it.
/Where are we going, Doctor?/ The Doctor couldn't explain the warm fuzzy feeling he got when the Master used the word 'we', but he sure as hell hoped that the Master hadn't realised he had felt it. He had quite good control over the doors in and out of his mind, but the Master seemed adept at breaking them down. But if the Master did notice, he didn't let on. The Doctor relaxed.
/Inside that castle/
They had been heading towards the castle, and were on the near side of the lake when they stopped. There was a loud, sucking noise behind them, coming from the lake. They turned slowly, in synchronisation, unsure of what to expect. What they did see was beyond anything they could have imagined.
/It's a ship/
/Shhh, Master/
/They can't hear me, you tool. I'm in your head/ The Doctor rolled his eyes.
/No, I'm trying to think/
/…/ But he was silent anyway, and the Doctor was amazed at how… human (if human was the right word)… the Master seemed. As if he'd lost that element of pure evil inside of him. As if he'd finally grown up. Perhaps Lucy's treachery had done that, or perhaps even just spending so long as Professor Yana. Or perhaps even… but the Doctor wasn't going to guess anymore; he'd never get it right, the Master was so complex a being.
The ship had fully emerged from the turbulent waters, and its crew were beginning to disembark. A line of heavy set, dark haired adolescents filed off the gang plank, followed by a small man dressed in what looked liked an entire family of dead rabbits, walking with a silver tipped staff. The Doctor shuddered; he hated it when people wore furs.
"Karkaroff…" the Master murmured under his breath. The Doctor pricked up his ears.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing." He acted all nonchalant, wasn't me and all that, but the Doctor had heard anyway.
"You know who he is."
"I know a lot of people, Doctor." They were speaking out loud now; the Doctor suddenly felt uncomfortable with the notion of the Master being privy to his thoughts. He stared at the Master's face, his permanently smug face, and slowly and carefully locked and bolted his mind.
"Have you been here before, Master?"
"No." But he averted his eyes, and the Doctor knew right away that he was lying.
"Tell the truth!" he yelled, losing every ounce of self-control. The Master seemed to have that effect on him.
"Oh, Doctor, you never could control yourself, could you? They'll have heard us now."
The line of boys continued towards the castle, walking right past the Doctor and Master as if they hadn't seen them. Only Karkaroff stopped, and when he did it was from shock.
"Saxon," he said trembling. "So you got here?"
/See/ hissed the Doctor in the Master's head. /He knows you, you know him. Liar/
"Karkaroff," replied the Master coldly.
/Liar! Dirty liar! I trusted you!/
/Doctor, you should know that you can never trust a time lord/ This stopped the Doctor dead.
"Everything is ready, Lord Saxon. Two more tasks, and the boy will be-"
"You have rather a large mouth, Karkaroff. Don't give away all our plans, now." He smiled coldly, and Karkaroff visibly flinched.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at his feet embarrassed, his white face flushing a pale pink. "I thought he" – he jerked his head towards the Doctor – "was in on it."
"I'll forget it, for now. No harm was done." He waved his arm regally, living up to his new title of Lord. "I'll summon you when you're next needed." To the Doctor's surprise, Karkaroff bowed. Then he scurried off to join the rest of the people form the ship. The Doctor rounded on the Master.
"What have you done?"
/…/
"Answer me! You're a Lord now? Weren't happy just being Master, Professor and Prime Minister?"
/I deemed it suitable for the scenario/
"But when could you have struck up a deal with Karkaroff?"
/I'm a time lord/
"A time lord with no TARDIS!"
/That's what you think. Ever wondered what happened before Professor Yana?/
"You set this up before Utopia?"
/Of course/
"But…"
/And I reconfigured the TARDIS. Coming here wasn't just one of your many mistakes. It was one of my many successes/
"You couldn't have. It has isomorphic controls…"
/Oh, Doctor. Your mind is so limited/
"I should have left you in the TARDIS!"
/Of course you should have, Doctor, but it's too late now. You want to know what's happening, and the only way you'll find that out is by watching what I do/
"Oh, you never change, do you? You plan to destroy the universe, but that's not enough. You have to have a god-damned audience!"
/You know, Doctor, if you carry on like this, Harry will think you're mad. You're kind of talking to yourself/
"Harry?"
"Yes?" came a boy's voice from behind the Doctor, who spun round to find himself face to face with a skinny, dark haired boy with piercing green eyes and round glasses. He was wearing a long, black robe with a school crest emblazoned upon the breast. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. The Doctor looked down and could see dirty white trainers poking out from underneath the folds of black fabric. The most startling feature, the only startling feature, about the boy, who looked to be in his early teens, was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. The Doctor found his eyes drawn to it as if by a magnetic force, and he wondered how so young a man could have received such an impressive wound. He assumed that it had been a wound, although for all he knew it could have been from something else. The Doctor looked at the boy, at Harry, noticing the redness around his eyes. Harry had been crying.
"Harry Potter! What an honour it is to meet you!" crowed the Master, speaking out loud for the first time since Karkaroff had left. He held out a hand for Harry to shake, which he did after wiping away one last tear.
"Likewise," he said with a sniff, and either he had ignored the hint of sarcasm in the Master's voice, or he had simply not heard it.
/How do you know his name? He part of your dastardly plan?/ The Doctor hated, absolutely detested, being left out of the loop.
/All you need to know is that he's famous, so he'll be surprised that you don't know his name/
"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, purely to annoy and disobey the Master. "But I don't think I've heard of you before." Harry looked surprised, but pleased.
"Oh, in that case, I'm Harry, and I'm a student at this school. I'm competing in the Triwizard Tournament." He frowned. "You're not part of Rita Skeeter's lot, are you?"
"I can assure you I'm not. I'm not so sure about him."
"Rita Skeeter the journalist? Of course not. I'd never be involved in anything as tacky as journalism," said the Master.
/How do you know so much?/
/I'm better than you, Doctor. I've always been better than you!/
/But how? How can you know so much about this place, about these people?/
A raging internal battle was taking place while Harry watched, bemused.
"You can talk to each in your heads," he said softly. "Do you use sympathetic magic?"
"Um…" said the Doctor. " I don't use magic…"
/Wrong thing to say/ whispered the Master's gleeful voice into the base of his skull.
"So you're a muggle? What are you doing here?" Harry looked panicked, as if he'd said far too much.
/Tell him we're time lords/
/You tell him! You're the one who seems to know everything!/ The Master rolled his eyes and clenched his mouth shut. /So childish/ Just a murmur from the Doctor, before he faced Harry again.
"Ok, Harry. I think it's time we introduced ourselves. I'm the Doctor and this is-"
"Saxon, Harold Saxon," butted in the Master.
/I can't call myself the Master, I'll never blend in/
/You want to blend in? But it's only switching Master for Lord, isn't it? You're all Lord Saxon now/
/Like I said, it seemed appropriate. Anyway, it's got a nice ring to it. Maybe I'll have you start calling me Lord…/
/Master…/
/No, I like it when you say Master… We'll stick with that for now/ The Doctor ignored him, and focussed his attention on Harry, saying:
"And we're both time lords. Aliens, if you must. Friendly, of course, and highly intelligent, if I dos ay so myself. Well, I am. I'm not so sure about him. But yeah, that's why we don't use magic - hang on, why're you crying?" Because Harry had tears streaming down his face.
"I had a bond with someone. You… reminded me of him." Harry was drowning in tears now, and the Doctor out an arm awkwardly around his shoulders.
"Do you… want to talk to us?" he asked. "I mean, I've been around for a long time, 900 odd years to be precise. Well, precise enough, in the grand scale of things…" - he trailed off – "But anyway, I may be able to give you some advice," he finished lamely.
"Why not?" answered Harry, attempting to dry his still leaking eyes. "You're an alien; what harm can it do?"
Harry led the Doctor and Master into the castle, through the heavy wooden doors, through the entrance hall and along and up many corridors and flights of stairs. The pictures on the walls were moving, but the Doctor ignored the illogic of magic, on earth, in the hands of humans. The Master had decided to be generous, and share some information.
/They're wizards, wizards and witches. They're very well hidden from 'muggle' or non-magical people. The Triwizard Tournament is a contest between the three main schools, this year it's being hosted here, at Hogwarts, Britain. That's all you really need to know/ The Master smirked at the Doctor's bewildered expression.
/How do you know so much?/
/Ho do you think?/
/You've been here before/
/Obviously/
/…/
They stopped outside of a large portrait of an even larger woman. Harry smiled through his tears.
"This is the fat lady." Then he whispered something to her, a password that the others weren't allowed to hear.
The portrait swung open revealing a hole in the wall.