Chapter 11 - Alphard Seiko
Hogsmeade, Scotland, 2015
"May I help you?"
Sylar looked up into the old woman's eyes and smiled.
"Oh, excuse me, I seem to have gotten lost. Would you happen to know the way to Hogwarts?"
The old woman frowned, slightly.
"My name is Professor McGonagall. I work at the school."
Sylar took his hat off and held it in his hands. Sincerity radiated from his eyes.
"Well, I am sorry, ma'am. I didn't know."
"That's quite alright," McGonagall sniffed. "What was it you wanted at the school?"
Sylar reached into the pocket of the robes he was wearing. Ridiculously, fairy-tale things. He'd had to trudge miles through boggy ground and mud to reach the village of Hogsmeade, and then had to slink into some poxy wizard's shop to buy clothes, dripping mud over the carpet.
He'd had money. It didn't matter how, but he had money. And he doubted anyone would find the body after what he'd done to it.
He found the slip of paper and handed it to her. She inspected it, critically.
"You've come about the groundskeeping vacancy we have, then?"
Sylar nodded, earnestly. "I always wanted to work for a real British wizard's school."
McGonagall sniffed. "You're not British, then?"
"No, ma'am, I'm American," Sylar smiled, shyly. "Parents always told me, if you're a good wizard, you'll get sent to Hogwarts. To learn from the best."
McGonagall raised herself slightly higher. "Indeed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She pulled a hankerchief from her sleeve and blew, delicately. "I suppose as nice a young man as you might as well come with me back to the school. The wee ones will be ready to go shortly."
Sylar looked taken aback. He reached out a hand. "Really? Gee, thank-you ma'am, thank-you. I'd really appreciate that, really I would."
McGonagall hid a smile, shaking his hand. "Indeed."
A voice called out. She looked up.
"Here they come now. Ah, Mr Filch, are the children rounded up sufficiently?"
What appeared to be a shuffling collection of moulding brown rags snorted and nodded, vehemently. McGonagall sniffed and turned, walking away from the village onto the dusty path that trawled into the hills.
Sylar frowned, scanning the landscape. The drunk had told him Hogwarts was a castle...how far were they walking?
There was a high-pitch giggle from behind him. He turned, slowly.
The procession of school children was watching him as they went past, trailing after the hag. Sylar smiled, sweetly.
"Hello, children. I'm going to work for your school."
He smiled again, and followed McGonagall. Young, fresh, potential. Magic bursting from their little bodies. All ready to learn, to become future upholders of their secret world.
Sylar was going to learn. Was going to open the school up and see how all the little pieces worked. How every spell, every trick and every illusion worked.
And no-one could stop him.
Then he saw it. Shifting, shimmering in the backdrop of the green Scottish hills, was a castle. Shifting, one second bustling with colour and activity, a jumbled mass of towers and spires and walls, and great pitches with hoops and stands, the next second a ruin, a wreckage of rock and rubble, a lone sign warning people away.
A trick to ward away the Muggles. Of course. But Sylar wasn't a Muggle. Not any more. He was special. He could see through their trick, because Algae Huxenbus and his partner had been able to.
No-one could stop him.
"Young man!"
Sylar looked up, innocently. McGonagall smiled.
"I never asked you what your name was."
Sylar thought about it. Then he smiled.
"Call me Seiko. Alphard Seiko."
She smiled, innocently. "Hagrid will appreciate this help, Alphard. He hasn't been quite the same since Dumbledore..."
Sylar nodded, thoughtfully. "I understand, ma'am. I only hope I can help. It's all I've ever wanted to do."
No-one could stop him.