Welp, I'm at it again. Mostly through my midterms. Bio's coming up, and that's going to be 25 hours of studying clocked over the course of this damn weekend.
Chapter 7: Collide
Kaleidoscope
"Have you ever had your world come apart?" he asked the guard pleasantly.
The man was young, a representative from Atlas and confident that the old man could not escape, so he answered the idle question.
"No. I have not."
It was true, Gellert could see. The guard walked with the air of someone ignorant of the loss in the world.
Gellert didn't say anymore to the guard, and the younger man was content to let his thoughts slide to the horror stories he had heard about Herr Grindelwald.
Gellert's fair hair had turned gray, then silvery white in his old age. The cell he resided in was not dank or even uncomfortable, but the bars that kept him from leaving it reminded him quite clearly that he was, indeed, a prisoner.
Once a year, on Christmas morning, Albus Dumbledore would come to see him, but literally no one else in the world had visitation rights. The only human contact were young and dumb guards with their hearts forged in a world that hadn't ever known terror.
He thought idly of the forces that he had betrayed and stolen from, the power he had amassed. He thought back to the rhythm of the Root, the staccato clap of compound time, spinning a melody that only he and the other pillars of the Universe could hear.
The thoughts rushed to the forefront of his mind, pushing him back against the wall as a sheen of sweat ran down his face at the mere memory of the defining moment of the century. Flamel, forever young at forty-one, and Schweinorg, the grizzled warrior of a million battles, had been slamming their hands together to the beat of Root, in deference to war, providing support in the only way that Albus could accept, a semi-circle of the nameless and faceless defenders of the Light following their example. And across from him, stood Albus Dumbledore.
As the Cloak slowly fluttered to the ground from Dumbledore's hands, he had stabbed the Wand into the soil. And at this, even the Root silenced itself for a moment, taken aback at the sheer stakes of this battle, the sheer magnitude of this final wager, the infinitum of the magic within the Universe grinding to a halt.
And then, he heard every second, the only sound that broke the still of the Battle. Tick. Tick. Tick.
And when Chronos stood beside him, when Aeon knelt next to the Bumblebee, clapping gently to the sound of music, the Clock stopped.
He thought of the Phoenix calls that dug deep into him, the Winged Serpent whispering sweet nothings into his ears and the Titans rising from the Earth.
Gellert had nothing left, his circuits ripped out of his very body, but he still heard the final march of the Root, ready to end in fire or ice.
Don't Know Me No More
"You're Harry Potter," Daphne said resignedly. She had hoped for this meeting to occur at another point.
The girl who had made a fuss about school rules snapped her head around at an admirable speed and looked at the boy searchingly, attempting to discern whether or not he truly was Harry Potter.
Harry nodded absentmindedly as he stared intently from the boy holding a clump of greenish-brown goop in his left hand to the blonde girl weaving little patterns with her wand at the two Dudley-sized boy flanking yet another boy, and the girl who had been shouting about rules earlier.
The blond boy looked horrendously angry about the splotches of goop all over him. He wiped his hands on his robe and nodded almost ceremonially to Harry and extended his hand.
"I am Draco, scion of House Malfoy."
Harry shook it mockingly and introduced himself as "Harry, scion of House Potter." Evidently, this had actually been the response that Draco Malfoy was expecting, as he smiled broadly through the gunks of slime on his face.
The other boy reluctantly stood and offered his hand to Harry as well. "Neville, House Longbottom." Deciding to follow the routine, he repeated his introduction a second time, and then a third time as the blonde girl shook his hand quickly as "Daphne, House of Greengrass."
Harry looked expectantly at the other girl, but she looked as lost outwardly as he was inwardly.
Draco pointed at her. "Mudblood or Halfblood, then."
Harry frowned at him.
"That's fucked," Neville protested.
Draco smirked at him. "I thought you were trash, but I never took you for a Mugglelover, Longbottom."
Neville turned to Daphne. "Please set him on fire."
Daphne, whose angry had been terrible and cold, nodded curtly and sprayed Draco Malfoy with sparks. Harry watched as they lit up the oily brown substance on the boy's body and he screamed, but Draco had quickly put them out with his own wand.
"You just burned him," the girl who had still not introduced herself shouted extremely loudly at Daphne Greengrass. "That's sick!" She looked ready to cry. She looked expectantly at Harry.
Harry, too, was taken aback. "You really did set him on fire," he said, rather at loss for words, but Draco had already prepared his next spell.
"Incendio!" he cried, and a jet of slightly blue flames raced towards the general direction of Daphne and Neville. Harry held up his arm in the same way he had seen Dumbledore stop projectiles from hitting him when he nearly destroyed the entrance to Diagon Alley, mustering his emotions to protect, as Dumbledore had done.
The flames stopped in midair and fizzled out. "What the hell is going on?" he shouted, mostly at Daphne and Neville.
"He's spouting Death Eater bullshit," Neville fired back, as if that explained everything.
Harry shrugged. "What the hell is a death eater?"
And then, the world stopped as everyone stared at Harry as though he had gone insane.
"What?" Draco choked at last. Even the unnamed girl seemed taken aback.
Like the Wind
Astrid took slow, measured steps towards the entrance to the Museum. The Clocktower stood immediately behind the Parthenon-styled entry hall, a nod to the Greek mages who had founded the association in Athens so many years previously.
She placed her hand onto the grand doors and they responded to her magic, surging open without a sound and she walked in.
"Identification," said a voice behind a too-tall receptionists desk, obscuring everything but the hair and eyes of the woman who worked behind it. She was a brunette.
"You know who I am," Astrid said softly.
"Identification," she repeated.
Astrid placed her wand onto the desk and it hummed lightly. Maple and phoenix feather, twelve inches, swishy. Good for subtle spells, said a voice in her head.
"Oh my," the receptionist said, quite surprised. She was used to surly mages, but none would surrender their weapons without prompting.
"I am the Green of the Mage's Association, sworn to defend and protect the sanctity of the Root that binds us to this world."
Her cloak fluttered at the strength of her proclamation and several lightbulbs blew out, showering the walls in glass.
Astrid picked her wand up and walked deeper into Clock Tower, into the jaws of the enemy.
"Lady Greengrass," said a careful voice behind her.
"Sophia-Ri," she responded. Astrid Greengrass bowed to no one.
"It is a pleasure to have you within our walls again," the man said quietly. His pride had been stung, but he did not expect to be called a Lord by someone as powerful as the woman in front of him.
"Thank you. I am headed for my confirmation, Davidus."
Now he was insulted. She did not have permission to use his first name, but he stewed quietly rather than vocally.
Astrid smiled vaguely, a look of consternation upon her face. "Davidus, I have known you for very many years. You are one of the few that I trust to make the right decisions. Why must you be so cold?"
He stepped back as if he had been slapped. "Lady Greengrass, I protest…"
"Go in before I do. You are technically late, so the General will be technically angry if I showed before you," Astrid said as they stopped before a nondescript door.
Davidus Sophia-Ri nodded in thanks and opened the door, then stepped in quickly.
Astrid stood before the door for another two minutes, then slipped her wand back into her robes and walked into the room.
The light was quite bright, harshly illuminating the faces before her and she felt no small amount of trepidation. Five people were seated in the front row of the auditorium she had walked into, and various faces and names she barely remembered behind them, in order of importance. She walked up onto the large stage.
"Lord Philosopher," she said first, addressing the plain, middle-aged man who stared at her with intelligent eyes. This was Lord Flamel, possibly the only man in the room who could strike her down easily. She curtsied.
"General Kaleidoscope," she followed, moving to the right. She looked into his dark eyes and he smiled as though he had learned something humorous about her.
"You've got guts, girl," he drawled in a long, deep rumble. He laughed aloud and she smiled back and curtsied at him as well. He was Lord Zelretch.
"Professor Dumbledore," she said seriously. He gave her a doleful stare, as though he knew how disappointed she was in the proceedings. He stroked his beard, indicating to her that he wanted to speak to her after the ceremony was done. She bowed deeply at him, eliciting several angry glares from the crowd, but she was beyond caring.
"General Barthomeloi." The General was a woman slightly younger than her, with a riding crop to her side and a bored expression upon her face. They had not known one another - they were drafted into different schools in the Association at different time periods.
She then turned to the fifth person and nodded at the teenager who was tapping her foot impatiently. "Peer Blue."
The Blue smiled at her. Astrid thought she saw the slow breakdown of sanity already, the complete lack of fear that she had tried to have.
"Astrid Greengrass," called a voice from the second row.
"Jeremiah Edelfelt," she called back, a challenge. Jeremiah Edelfelt was the lowest of the low, so obviously he would rise to the highest ranks of the Mage's Association. She hated everything about him, from the snarky tone of voice that reminded her of a young Jimmy Potter (had he really died with Lily eleven years ago?) and a hair of rather disgusting red-gold that would probably look better on a girl.
He sniffed. "You are charged with defending the knowledge of the Mage's Association. How do you respond."
"I will fulfill my duties, better than anyone else can," she said. Lord Flamel nodded at her.
"Astrid Greengrass," said another voice.
Oh, was this the game they were playing?
"Staphin Archibald El-Melloi," Astrid shot back, smirking. "How is your son Kayneth?"
He looked ready to attack her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. My condolences for his death. The Holy Grail is quite a prize, but I don't believe it was quite worth the possible loses."
Several of the men and women in the rows behind him stood up in defense of the family's honor.
"I suggest that you sit down," Astrid said, pushing her magic into her speech, weaving it within her deep knowledge of the speech. It was rather effective, as even those who could have fought it decided to calm down instead.
Zelretch giggled.
"Provide proof of your ability," said General Barthomeloi, without a hint of respect.
Astrid cocked her head at the General for a moment as whispers grew in the auditorium.
She paused, wondering exactly what she could do. Then, she smiled.
"Fight me," she responded, in a low, predatory purr.
The whispers grew to a fever pitch as Lorelei Barthomeloi walked onto the stage.