Harry Potter and The Pit
by Polydicta
Summary:
Voldemort has been dead for a decade and Time has begun to bring some of her hidden secrets to the light of day.
This tale is planned out as a novel comprising (probably) three parts - each a novella-length adventure. I plan to continue working on it, but in the mean-time, here are chapters 1 & 2.
A multi-crossover between Harry Potter, Sapphire and Steel, and the Quatermass adventures.
The title is a play on Quatermass and The Pit.
References:
Sapphire and Steel, ATV television series 1979 - 1982
Quatermass, BBC television serials 1953 - 2005
Disclaimer:
All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego™ bricks.
There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.
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Harry Potter and The Pit
Part 1 - The Box of Stars
Chapter 1 - The Passing of Time
Harry Potter and his friends were living in interesting times. A running battle between six students and a dozen Death Eaters was taking place - a battle where the students were using non-lethal force, while their opponents were using deadly force.
Meanwhile, in another place, the sole occupants had finished their argument, and had reached the state of an angry silence.
It was not entirely unexpected - he was recognised as being a hard ... individual. His companion, no less tough, was of a somewhat more empathic disposition. She was looking out of the café window, staring at the stars that surrounded the ... structure.
Looking in from the outside, you would have seen a well-lit window hanging in empty space, unburdened by walls. Once in a while, it was accompanied, from a different angle, by the view through a briefly opened door - a view that was of the inside of the same room as the window's, otherwise the wooden-framed, curtained, glass doors gave no view of the inside.
Where this little eatery was could be described as ... difficult to explain.
It was a roadside café of the late 1940's, but it was located in the exact centre of an endless void filled with distant stars, not that you could find it by any coordinates based on any of the star charts available to man, nor indeed any putative maps accessible to the pair within the café.
Nor was it possible to really explain when it was. The void in which the structure stood suffered no time. While things happened one after another, no time actually passed here. The clock on the wall was working, though it had read sixteen minutes past four for the last - well, it had seemed like a few years, at least, to the pair.
Their latest argument was more or less inevitable. Two creatures of action cooped up, alone, in a building that was a mere twenty feet square. The only other relief from boredom was the occasional cup of cheap coffee, which the man didn't drink.
As though in response to the boredom, there was a chill air movement in the room. Moreover, there drifted in the sound of distant voices and fighting. Insane laughter was followed by a shadowy shifting against the wall of the café, a tattered curtain of hinted shadow across the well-lit wall ... the suggestion of a ruined arch that should have been taller than the building ...
Then, seeming to approach from a vast distance, a shadowy figure appeared and like a ghost passed through the veil, a figure now clear to the vision. A figure that fell, noisily, to the floor of the café. A figure that groaned and began to cuss most creatively.
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In the world that we know, time passed and the end of Voldemort's Blood War saw the end of the Blood Purity movement, its back broken by the annihilation of so many purebloods, their wealth and power scattered to the four winds, their power squandered on a creature that had held wrath and hatred as its only cause.
The heroes of that war, a few teenaged schoolchildren, grew up and began to live their lives.
Harry Potter never returned to Hogwarts for his final year. Instead, he was accepted directly onto the British Auror Service Training Program, where his innate skill at learning practical magic kept him ahead of the rest of that year's auror intake, studying and sitting his NEWT exams independently. He rapidly rose to the level of lieutenant in the Auror Force.
His best friend, Ron Weasley opted to go into business with his brother Fred, and to revive Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - a move wholeheartedly supported by Harry.
Hermione Granger returned to Hogwarts and completed her NEWTs before being recruited into the Ministry of Magic. She was one of the small team of specialists who created the Forensic Magic Service - a small team of specialists who researched and, more importantly, applied the muggle science of Forensics to the magical world.
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger danced around each other for a while, but they realised that they could never, indeed, should never be a couple.
Harry's former girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley had given up on her dream to be the wife of The Boy Who Lived, and pursued, instead, a career as a professional quidditch player.
Neville Longbottom started a herbal supplies company and became well known as an expert in his own field rather than 'that lunatic with the sword'.
It was around the time of Harry leaving the Auror Academy that Luna Lovegood's betrothed (an old agreement between the Lovegoods and the Scamanders), one Hrolf Scamander died after being gored by a black unicorn. This gave Luna the opportunity to return to her roots, and to re-adopt her mother's family name. Luna Selene, daughter of Selene Diana (daughter of Diana Hecate) was once more an Arianrhod, and head of that matrilineal house.
She gave up her father's dream of her becoming a crypto zoologist, (she always preferred that to magical naturalist), and began to work toward becoming a Mistress of Arcane Lore, like her mother and her mother before her.
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Hit Wizard training was gruelling, but Harry Potter took to it like a metaphorical fish to equally metaphorical water. Only a very few aurors were able to undergo this training - hit wizards, generally, being as unsuited to auror work as aurors to hit wizard work.
With his power levels and talents, Harry was able to leap through the combat training, stealth, warding and ward-breaking work as well as the elementary forensic and field medic areas. Happily, hit wizards were all about results rather than theory.
At the same time, the new Forensic Magic Service was taking their first steps into forever changing the face of magical law enforcement. They also needed a Lore Master to complete their team. A few more research assistants couldn't hurt, either.
The arrival of a newly graduated Teddy Lupin was most welcome. The young metamorph had inherited his father's ability to visualise complex magical devices, as evidenced by his changes to the Marauders' Map, but he coupled this with a talent for playing magic off against technology.
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Chapter 2 - The Chess Box
04:37, 22 June 2009
Box's Garage, Old Oxford Lane, Chippinghampton Hurst.
One of Hermione Granger's little pleasures in life was driving her lovingly, magically restored, vintage Coachbuilt Bentley Saloon. Not a small car, by any means, but a real pleasure for her to drive. One of her secret, guilty pleasures was finding ways that took in the original routes that her car might have taken before the modern, straight, dualled roads were built.
One such place she had discovered was Box's Garage. The loop of road had been straightened twice. The original road ran behind the garage and café, and was little more than a dirt-track these days, providing access to a derelict farmhouse.
The second road, Hermione recognised from her own childhood when her parents would take her out in their car. The garage had been a thriving business back then. Now, it was just another local repair-shop, petrol station and café that served the local community, such as it was, and a few people like her who enjoyed the older roads. The place had remained essentially unchanged since the 1970's.
As she climbed out of her car, she could hear the rush of traffic on the new road, just a hundred yards away beyond some scrubby, rather depressing trees with an understory of disappointing bushes and brambles that screened this place from the new road.
Senses tingling, she realised that while the building was unlocked and well-lit, there was no one around. Like the Marie Celeste, there were meals, part eaten, on the table while an old jukebox seemed to be stuck, playing something from the 1960's. There was a heavy feeling, like the storm-front tension that she remembered Harry generating back when they were at school. A feeling of impending chaos.
"Verbis Patronem."
Hermione's otter patronus leapt from her wand and waited.
"Find Harry. Tell him that I have found something that needs his special attention. Tell him where we are. Go!"
The silver otter rushed Eastwards toward her best friend and Hermione set herself to wait.
Prongs appeared, and spoke with Harry's voice. "I will be with you in a few minutes. I'll bring a team."
.
"I see what you mean. The food is still warm and the clock over the door shows it to be eleven thirty-ish. It advances for about three minutes and then resets."
"I didn't notice that, Harry. Mainly because I wasn't going to go in without backup."
A pop heralded the arrival of a tall figure in a concealing, grey cloak.
"Found anything?"
"Not yet, Algie, just a few circumstances. It bears a resemblance to the Kirkton Manor case, even down to the time-skip."
The unspeakable looked up. "Oh dear. We need to find the source of the problem then, and to bag it up for re-use."
Harry raised an eyebrow toward Hermione.
"Kirkton Manor was the source of the time-sand that our time-turners are powered by."
.
Eight hours later, the search had turned up little more than a mystery surrounded by an enigma. There were temporal ghosts, echoes of what had been. There were signs of several attempts at temporal magic - powerful, yes, but very closely controlled. There were psychic residues of a number of extremely powerful and rather enigmatic individuals, and there was the box.
Oh yes, and a pristine, razor edge Triumph Renown. The only trouble they would find was that the car in question would turn out to have a 1946 chassis number that was never built.
The box, a 1940's made travelling chess set, was unremarkable but for the enormous magical energy it seemed to hold. This, it seemed, was the source of the oppressive feeling in the air. Only one person in the group could hold the box for more than a few moments, and that person was Hermione Granger.
Harry's comments could be summarised as, "it's a powerful device. A mechanism."
Algernon Croaker's summary was, "What is that doing in a muggle restaurant?"
Hermione's, however, boiled down to, "I wonder how to get it working ..."
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13:22, 22 June 2009
The Veil Chamber, Ministry of Magic, London.
The veil chamber, once used for public executions, represented the safest place to carry out experiments on unknown, powerful magic artefacts. A workbench was placed in front of the veil arch. The bench was warded so that anything hazardous would trigger massive banishing charms, throwing whatever was on the bench into the Veil of Death, and thus out of harm's way.
Hermione manipulated the box using her wand, and the feeling of ambient magic increased. A sensation best described as invisible greasy sparks crawled over the skin of those present. The box was opened and nothing happened. A mirror was placed in front of the opened box ...
"It's full of stars ..."
One of the muggleborn started humming the opening bars of Also Sprach Zarathustra.
Nothing more happened.
Harry wandered down the steps and looked over Hermione's shoulder.
"Hey, I can see Sirius!"
"What? Where?"
She spun round to look at him.
"Large, reddish star near the middle of the view. You know, Sirius, the Dog Star."
Hermione let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding.
She looked. She squinted. Yes, the colour was, sort of, like Sirius. Perhaps a bit too yellow, but it seemed ... distorted.
"I need a telescope ... "
A telescope was procured and set up. Hermione squinted through the instrument and adjusted it.
"That isn't a star. Look."
Harry and then several other took turns peering through the telescope and into the box of stars.
There, hanging in space was a doorway. A pair of wooden-framed glass doors with curtains. Red, gingham print curtains. The woodwork was painted white, as was the doorframe. There was no wall around the disembodied doorway. No roof and no ground. Just a doorway hanging in starry space.
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No time at all
The Café in the Middle of Empty Space.
Sirius Black was suffering a kind of culture shock as well as terminal boredom. After seemingly years of trying to evade the truth, he was finally going to have to explain to his companions, well co-prisoners, and hang the Statute of Secrecy.
The woman, Sapphire was personable enough in a business-y kind of way, Sirius thought, but Mr Steel seemed to be all hard edges, like Mad Eye had been. Sirius had decided that being dead and in Hell gave him the right to ignore the Statute, and any other laws he had left behind.
"Alright, I'm tired of trying to avoid answering your questions. It's time for the truth."
"Well?"
"Look, you may call me crazy, but I'm a wizard, and I died by falling through the Veil of Death in our ministry."
The expressions on the two faces merely demanded further explanations.
"Okay, I can prove that I'm a wizard ..."
He pointed his wand at one of the skeletal wooden seats and transfigured it into a leather-upholstered wing-back chair.
"So, you're a wizard. What were you doing to end up here? Explain!"
Sirius began. "Well, my godson, Harry ..."
.
Three hours later, even though no time had passed, Sirius finished his tale and began answering questions.
"This apparation you do. How far can you travel using it?"
"Fully rested, I can manage London to Scotland, so about eight hundred miles."
The man, Steel, shook his head. "Not enough. What else can you do?"
"I know a couple of communication spells?"
That got their interest.
"So send a message."
"I already tried when I first arrived."
"Then try again."
Sirius shook his head.
"Okay. Verbis Patronem."
A rather ill-defined shape dribbled from Sirius' wand. It could have been a dog ... or a cat ... or a sheep ... or even a very small elephant. It waited for instructions.
"Go and find Harry, tell him where we are, and ask if he can help. Now, go ..."
The patronus, such as it was, looked around and suddenly started running - through the doors.
"That didn't happen before ..."
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16:16, 22 June 2009
The Veil Chamber, Ministry of Magic, London.
Suddenly, a white shape emerged from the wooden box, ricocheted off of the mirror and tumbled to a stop in front of the assembled wizards and witches.
"Harry, I'm stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere at all with two other people. All there is outside is stars. Come and get me please ..."
The patronus, instead of disappearing with a sparkle seemed to melt into nothing.
"Sirius? Alive? What?"
Harry sat down sharply.
"Harry, send a reply."
Harry looked up at Croaker and nodded.
He cast his patronus and told it to find Padfoot. It ran toward the veil and turned, diving into the box. A stag patronus, nearly eight feet at the tips of its antlers simply leapt into the four-inch square box and ran. Through the telescope, Hermione could see the patronus receding.
"The doors are about two miles in ... "
-::::::::-
Same time as before (but ten minutes later)
The same Café from 1948.
The two Time agents were surprised when a glowing stag galloped into the café, ghosting through the doors and stopped in front of Mr Black.
Harry Potter's voice emerged from the creature's lips. "Hey, Padfoot, we're about two miles away from you, but you're in some kind of wizarding space. Hermione says that there's a lot of time and space-folding magic on the box. We're going to try to get you out. I'll try to send you a portkey or something, but it will have to be tested before we can get you out."
The patronus' message delivered, it burst in a shower of magic.
"What the hell was that?"
Sapphire looked at the normally unflappable Steel.
"That," said Sirius proudly, "was my godson's messenger patronus. He used it to drive off a hundred dementors when he was thirteen."
That sparked off an explanation of dementors and some more of what the wizarding world was all about.
"Sapphire?"
"There was nothing to indicate any of this when we were last on Earth. No records, no hints, nothing. These people have abilities that are both like and unlike anything our specialists do - their limitations are different from ours."
"And?"
Sapphire momentarily considered that Steel was becoming more ... human in his interactions, his language becoming more colloquial.
"They share some of the powers of the Transient Beings."
"Enough to ... combat them?"
"Perhaps."
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16:17, 22 June 2009
The new Mainline-Heathrow rail line, 300 feet below Chancery lane, London.
The tunnel was shaping up nicely. At this depth they were cutting through the London Clay like a hot knife through runny butter, and the only thing limiting progress were how quickly they could clear the cutting debris, and how quickly they could erect the tunnel casing.
Even this depth below the water table, the clay limited the ingress of water into the workings.
Geoff Hornchurch, the geologist on the project, was careful to take samples and lots of notes during each pause in operations. Each wagon load of clay was numbered and his team of students performed an analysis as it was pulled from the Leatherhead portal.
He reflected briefly on the creation of an access tunnel in the chalk downs that literally crossed London at a depth of over two hundred feet in order to create a rail link between the main-line rail stations and Heathrow, Luton and Gatwick airports. Five parallel tunnels - four supporting rail traffic and one for vehicular access for maintenance use. A future branch to join the Channel Tunnel and the possibility of even more.
In the mean time, he was deep below chancery lane tube station supervising the creation of the first section - King's Cross to Waterloo, which would then curve round to take in Victoria and Heathrow Airport.
The primary tunnel, a fifteen metre monster that would eventually provide the services to the four rail tunnels was progressing nicely. Air trunking and cabling was being fitted not twenty metres behind the tunnelling machine. A combined road and rail-bed was being laid - the narrow-gauge rail lines would be left in place once tunnelling operations were complete, electric locomotives not stinking the place up as badly as the diesel cars that were being used right now.
Unexpectedly, a claxon blared and the tunnelling machine ceased operations.
Geoff looked up as a group of face-workers gathered around something to one side of the face. The face supervisor turned and called Geoff over, his face grim.
As he approached, Geoff could see a large object had snagged on the face cutter. It looked like a massive, water worn rock, something that was more than a little unlikely in this geological structure - one of the reasons for cutting through the clay rather than later beds.
As he got closer, he could see that it was over two metres high, at least three wide and who knows how far into the clay. The fact that it hadn't budged at all told him at least a couple of metres.
A chill ran up his spine and the hairs on his neck bristled. Nothing larger than a pebble or harder than a fragile fossil should be in this rock. Nothing.
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16:22, 22 June 2009
Museum Station (disused), Holborn, London.
In the darkened, abandoned tunnels of the station, a temporary wall collapsed, showering the age-littered floor with white tiles. The space revealed was the never-completed pedestrian tunnel that should have emerged inside the British Museum. The cast iron casing with its stalactites of rust and lime glistened in the dim light breaking from an object, part-buried in the construction debris, laying close to the now demolished wall. An object a few inches long and looking rather ... technical, even if it had been originally found in a three thousand year old tomb in Wiltshire.
An observer might remark that the light was similar to that experienced at night at the time of a full moon, although, perhaps, a little more blue. That same observer might also remark that the tunnel felt much colder that the usual ten degrees. Of course, there was no observer since there was no way for anyone to get into the tunnels without walking along the track from Holborn station (a matter of less than a hundred yards).
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16:22, 22 June 2009
The Veil Chamber, Ministry of Magic, London.
Using his second wand, one that had previously been used by Albus Dumbledore, Harry cast a portkey charm on a rock.
A transfigured box with a sticking charm applied to the outside was used to hold the rock, and the whole banished toward the café doors using a homing charm.
A few minutes later, observing the doors in space, Harry saw a familiar figure open the door, retrieve the box and ...
A swirl of coloured light saw the arrival, in the death chamber, of a sixty year old chair with a red leather seat cushion.
The experiment was repeated, and with that same swirl of lights, three people arrived - one who had been officially dead for ten years, the other two didn't exist in any official records, anywhere or anywhen.
To describe the meeting between Sirius Black and Harry Potter as joyous would be an extreme understatement.
The woman, Sapphire approached the veil arch. Closing her eyes, she touched the grey, micaceous stone. She gasped and collapsed.
-::::::::-
16:24, 22 June 2009
Peveril Castle, Castleton, Derbyshire.
It looked like a pool of water hanging across a blind window in a buried section of the old keep.
The window had once looked through the wall and out over Cave Dale, the gorge that formed the south rampart of the castle. Now, inaccessible to any but through a manhole cover in the grass above, the chamber was once more lit.
The pool rippled and shifted, the light from beyond it was golden and broke into dancing rays that were cast across the dirt floor and the damp wall opposite the former window. The temperature of the underground room rose slightly under the influence of the hidden sun.
Meanwhile, the dark, overcast, rain-filled day continued above, the skies weeping on the land surrounding the castle.
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16:24, 22 June 2009
Cwm Ogof, Capel Curig, North Wales.
A grotto, formed by a number of giant rocks, dripped water, much as it had done for most of the past thousand years. The water, barely filtered through surface grass and moss was clear and nutrient rich. The steady drip-drip-drip into a gravelly pool between the bases of the rocks that formed this tiny well was a gentle and relaxing sound for any who came upon this unremarkable spot upon an unremarkable hillside in a wholly remarkable stretch of countryside.
Many such grottoes existed here about on the many rock-strewn hillsides.
A pale, greenish glow began to insinuate itself into the hollow, sliding from between the Brobdingnagian rocks and suffusing the damp atmosphere without being visible from more than a couple of feet without.
The steady dripping increased until a steady trickle of water was running, springing from between the stones and tumbling, salmon-like, into the pool below. The pool which rapidly filled and overflowed from between the outer stones, to form a trickle and then an unexpected rill down to the river, the Afon Llugwy below.
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16:24, 22 June 2009
Disused coal mine, Black Lyne Valley, Cumbria.
A badger was woken by the presence of a small human with dirty-blonde hair. The snuffling and snoring noises ceased and a watchful silence ruled. Wary, the badger saw the approaching illumination, a faint glow of warm light.
The woman had squeezed herself in through the almost completely choked entrance and now moved carefully through the old mine. She had a choice of walking while bent double or crawling. She crawled, an illuminated stick held between her lips.
She came to the place where the badgers had their nest.
Glowing, yellow eyes regarded wide, blue eyes. The blue eyes, wide with wonder regarded the owners of the yellow eyes.
"Oh, poo! Just badgers again."
She turned to leave and caught a glimpse of ... something else. A shadow. Angular and upright, it had a long nose and spiky ... hair?
"Shit!"
She rushed to leave the old mine, escaping into the late afternoon sunshine and up onto the road. She walked downhill and forded the river rather than walking the extra distance to cross the bridge.
Once more on dry land, she twisted and disappeared with a crack. All the time, she was wondering what Kobold were doing in an old coal mine in England ...
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16:26, 22 June 2009
Wearbeck Mine, Weardale, Durham .
Three men were toiling deep underground, busy retrieving crystal beds of multicoloured fluorite for the mineral collectors' market. It was punishing work, but the rewards were excellent. All three were part-timers, little more than hobbyists running their tiny mine deep under the dales.
The process was to advance the tunnel and then to carefully cut out the bed rock from around the fluorite veins, to extract the fluorite while hoping to find a cavity which would contain complete crystals, and to then repeat the process.
The rock was friable and the fluorite delicate, fragile stuff. They used hand picks for the extraction work and electric hammers for the tunnelling work.
At four twenty six, Steve was working below a large plate of fluorite veinstone, not good specimen material, but it still needed care. His pick hit the end of his cut and penetrated into a void. A large void.
"Damn it, guys, we got us a vug and a half!"
They took turns to peer into the hole using a torch attached to a stick. There was a chamber that shone with the glittering reflection of light off of myriad crystal faces. This looked like being a bumper year.
They continued their painstaking work extracting the fluorite vein and enlarging the tunnel. They would penetrate the chamber tomorrow. In the mean time, hungry eyes peered into the two inch hole whenever they took a break from the digging.
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16:32, 22 June 2009
The Wolpits, Woolpit, Suffolk.
The excavation of the medieval wolf traps was nearing the most interesting phase. The rubbish and infill from the past hundred years was gone, the brush and scrubby trees cleared, and the debris of a thousand years was undergoing a painstaking excavation and examination.
It was obvious to Sarah Tomlinson that these traps were a lot older than the medieval date previously ascribed to them. For the last three weeks, they had been finding material from the Saxon period and then the Roman occupation. Small bits and pieces, but still ...
Three days ago they had passed through the sparse iron-age and even thinner bronze age remains to the Neolithic.
Flint flakes, burins and even a couple of broken, flint spearheads littered the ancient floor of the pits, and yet, they were still digging.
Today, they had passed through the Palaeolithic remains, few that there were and into an ancient, virgin, tundra debris. They had finally reached the bottom of the most ancient level less than a half hour ago.
Christian, the palaeobotanist had flipped out over the discovery of microscopic traces of plants that hadn't been seen this far south since well over million years ago.
The wolf pits were older than humanity. They weren't natural, since they were all wrong for any known natural mechanism, so who had dug them?
Besides, everyone on the dig knew that the sand and clay that the pits were dug in, while ideal for trapping wolves, was hardly the stuff of durable features like these pits. Sarah wondered whether the rest of the sixty or so pits were similarly deep and well preserved.
Tired after a long day's effort, she climbed out of the pit and pulled the tarpaulin cover over the hole. She never noticed the greenish glow or the breeze carrying the smells of summer out of the pit she had been digging.
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16:33, 22 June 2009
Devil's Grave (Stormy Point), Alderley Edge, Cheshire.
Fenodyree Blacke was sat in his favourite place watching the scenery to the east of Stormy Point, his feet dangling into the crack that was the modern access to the ancient mine working known as Devil's Grave.
Twenty years ago, he had been able to simply slip into the chamber, though now it was closed by a steel grille, not that any steel gate would be much of a challenge to him of all people. The original access, a square hole at the top of the chamber was closed by the tapered stone that had been wedged in place since whenever, certainly since before he was born.
The chamber made eerie noises when the wind was right, but right now, it was just another place from which to see the world slumbering in the afternoon overcast, and to watch the tourists as they wandered all over The Edge.
There was a slight chill to the breeze that was springing up as he rose to wander home. Strange skittering noises emanated from the cavern. Probably bats, he thought, or hoped, at least.
Pulling his jacket around his shoulders, he wandered down the way toward the town, following the pedestrian route that ran just below the crest of the scarp.
He walked through the leafy gloom, his red hair and beard vaguely flame-like atop his short, stocky frame. If he timed it right, then he should arrive at the Railway Inn just in time to get the first round in.
He never noticed the witchfire dancing around the spring known as The Wizard's Well.
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