All For Lightspeed! IV
…
LAST TIME: Our duellist found himself in a strange, decaying castle in a bizarre corner of the wizarding world, with the shadow of deception looming over its occupants...
The rest of the dinner was a disaster. Hercules was quietly weeping into his stew, and Lady Cybeles looked a sneeze away from joining him. Lyle simmered like his food; Amanda lost her appetite. She just sat there silently, staring at her chicken. That silence filled the room like a poisonous gas, choking throats and inflaming tongues. Harry watched Lyle; Lyle watched Amanda; Amanda watched Hercules; and Hercules watched Cybeles, and they all watched each other.
Even when they'd all mutually - and again, silently - agreed to leave the meal where it was, no one said anything. And for the sake of politeness, no one said anything about that either. Harry thought it was like one of those Mexican stand-offs - reversed. Whoever fired the first word lost.
Hercules shifted angstily in his chair. His cheeks were messy with dried tears, his upper lip wet with snot. Lyle sighed. "Enough," he ground out, then stood abruptly. The legs of his chair scraped along the flagstones. "Hercules, Skarsgard, with me. I'll find something to take your minds off it."
Without further ado he paced away, forcing Harold and Hercules to scamper after him. They followed the older man through twists and turns, passing through tight corridors that were almost inhabitable, whose walls were thronged with gilt-edged paintings who posed and fought and danced. Here ever-burners lit the way.
But as they drew farther distant from their shared turret, the walls had been shorn of their paintings; faint imprints remained where magical marvels once reposed. Moss grew between the flagstones beneath their feet. The ever-burning sconces too had vanished, until Lyle was leading them by the light of Lumos.
"Here," he eventually said, stopping by a broad bronze door. Wand-light revealed the austere marks of Germanic runes carved deeply into the bright-polished metal… and pulsing, Harry somehow felt, with power. What lay behind this door? Whatever it was, he had no clue where it was. They had zig-zagged so many times that by the end Harry hadn't been sure if they were zigging or zagging.
Lyle took out a thick brass key and made to turn an invisible lock. When his hand was half a foot from the door there was one click to reveal a keyhole, another when the lock was turned, and then a cascade of louder clicks, clacks and clanks as something behind the door shifted. It reminded Harry of the vaults in Gringotts.
Eventually, the great doors swung open. Harry's breath caught in his chest. It was beautiful. Hundreds and hundreds of books were nestled on dozens of bookcases, all set around a central plinth raised above the floor. Three long tables awaited there, and a dozen scattered chairs, all arranged as though whichever party was studying there simply stood up and left… and never returned.
"C'mon," said Lyle. He led them past so many rows of bookcases it made Harry's head spin. How much duelling knowledge awaited discovery in this library? What incredible secrets were hidden away, unseen, unread for decades?
"I love magic," Harry muttered to himself.
But as it turned out, the magic of the library was imperfect - marred, even, as he was about to find out. "Once," Lyle said, gesturing to the plinth, "the bookcases would re-order themselves on command. I've been told it was very much like one of those Muggle ballet dancers… except made of wood, and more trustworthy.
"Never mind. The enchantment's broken. It's all yours to read, except -" Lyle's voice grew stern "- except the books on the white bookcase. They're too magical and too dangerous to even touch. Don't think about it. Now, Hercules, come with me - I think I know a few books that'll interest you."
Hercules shuffled after Lyle… and new curiosity peaked in Harry's mind. He bit his lip, glancing after his new… friend. He shouldn't, but…
Harry tip-toed off after them, stopping on the other side of a bookcase.
"Now lad," he heard Lyle say, "first of all, I've got to ask. D'you trust Skarsgard?"
"That's mean!" Hercules whisper-shouted. "He just wanted a light thingy, and he helped me in the forest! Besides, he can't be much older than me."
Harry felt his heart flutter, a strange emotion overtaking him. Had he really made a friend?"
Lyle snorted. "You didn't ask, eh? Hmm. I'm not so sure - he's a queer lad, old eyes. Knows more than he says, for sure."
That, Harry had to admit, was true.
"-And wait," Lyle continued. His voice took on that familiar tone that adults tended to when talking to naughty children - scolding, Harry thought. "What do you mean by 'helped me in the forest'?
Hercules' gulp was audible. "I-I didn't stray off the path, I promise! But there was this thing, i-it got closer to the spell-path than uncle Caudicus said was normal, and before I knew it I was walking toward it and its eyes told me to come closer an-and then Harry came and whoosh with a flame charm and it ran away!"
Lyle made a noise of interest. "A flame charm you say? Which one?"
"Incendio of course," Hercules said, as though the man were an idiot. All his excitement was replaced by incredulity. "What else could it be?"
"Incendio's for lighting candles, not warding off creatures. A miracle then - or perhaps the mark of a truly strong wizard. Why didn't you tell us about this creature?"
"I… I didn't want to worry you. I asked Aunty Cybeles not to tell."
Lady Cybeles, Harry suspected, had already told Amanda - but clearly not Eric Lyle. Suspicious. Harry heard him sigh. "It'll be our secret then, yours, mine, and Lady Cybeles' - we'll keep it on one of these shelves."
Hercules giggled.
"Now," the older man continued. "You want to know about your uncle, I'm sure. Ask and I'll answer."
Hercules' humour died swiftly. "Will… will he get out soon?"
His voice trembled with such vulnerability, such child-like fear, that Harry was swept up in a great tidal wave of emotion - one that came across him so suddenly that he struggled, for a brief moment, to breathe.
"It's hard to say," Lyle admitted frankly. "Your uncle's told you all about the law, I'm sure. He's a prudent man - and the law doesn't favour men like him. On the one hand, our enemies have set the deck to their advantage. But," Harry heard Lyle pause then. In his absence, Hercules could be heard sniffling. "But as I said, your uncle's a prudent man. He'll have planned for this. You'll see him again before long, I'm sure."
"On… on bail?"
"Told you," Lyle said. "Your uncle's taught you well."
For a moment there was silence. Were they coming back? Fearing his exposure, Harry tip-toed back to the plinth with the chairs.
-HP-
-HP-
Despite Lyle's efforts, neither Harry nor Hercules managed much studying that night. The younger boy was still too upset to think clearly, while Harry himself could not help but replay, again and again, Lyle and Hercules' conversation in his mind. Maybe he'd misjudged the man? Eric Lyle had every reason to be suspicious of him, and he'd been frank and fair with Hercules…
What studying he did manage could better be termed research. The encounter with the wild thing in the forest would not shift from his mind either. What had it been? How had it approached the spell-path? How had it seemingly hypnotised Hercules? He hoped the answer would lie in the library, but so far he was without luck.
All he had discovered was that it was unlikely that it would be discovered. Creatures of Land, Deep, and Sky barely scratched the surface of the vast cornucopia of creatures native to the magical world. It was a wonder the Muggles had not discovered any themselves. And among the many kinds there were subkinds, and subkinds of subkinds - he'd even learned the existence of a type of creature called a
wolpertinger*, a hybrid mix of a rabbit, a squirrel, and a pheasant. Apparently, a medieval Bavarian alchemist had created this chimeric species and somehow gotten them to mate. What even was the point of that!? None as far as Harry could see, but he'd still spent an hour reading about them.
It had been a baffling experience. The books on his desk had piled up, while the potential identities of the creature only expanded. Eventually he'd given in and resorted to perusing DADA books. Most he put down after a brief skim - they were too complex for him to understand. A few he'd practically thrown across the desk, as the spells they described could most succinctly be described as vile. What was the point of an entrail-expelling curse?
Late in the night, he'd discovered Tricks to Ensnare and Tips for Victory. It was a book of sayings, pointers, and insights scattered haphazardly throughout its pages. Unfortunately, the cover had disintegrated - and the author's name was thus lost - but the knowledge within remained valuable. In the short time he had left, Harry poured over it, absorbing every word he could, until Lyle returned to guide them back through the confusing corridors and put them to bed.
-HP-
The next day - one day closer to Hogwarts, Harry could not help but note - began brightly. Even the shadow cast by the surrounding forest couldn't veil the sun from Halt End. Shafts of white light cascaded through the loopholes, birdsong wafted through the corridors, and even Hercules seemed a little perkier than the day before.
Harry felt none of it. He knew he had to make a nuisance of himself today; the thought sent a heave of dread up from his stomach. He felt sick as soon as he woke up. Even Hercules' distraction - some strange derivation of marbles called gobstones - couldn't dissipate the heavy cloud of anxiety that hung over him.
That cloud became a thunderstorm when Amanda called them down for breakfast. They arrived to see Lady Cybeles already eating toast topped with an unusual glistening butter. That, Harry decided, you wouldn't find in Tescos. Nonetheless, when he sat down to eat himself, he braved the unknown topping fearlessly. After all, what sort of wizard wouldn't?
The butter buzzed pleasantly on his tongue but did not mollify his nerves. "Erm," he said. "Lady Cybeles?"
Her dark eyes, ringed with red, blinked owlishly at him. She'd been staring into space. "Yes, child?"
"I er- well, you see… I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and because of the, er, escape from the shop, my- my trunk and owl are still there, and Tom the barman will be wondering where I am and-"
"Hush," she interrupted, breaking his babbling. "It is no worry. You may write a letter to him, instructing that he may keep the trunk safe, to let the owl come to you. Owls know the way to their owner. Indeed, I remember my first owl. Longshanks, he was called, because he was very tall. He had such handsome dark feathers…"
Lady Cybeles sighed, and trailed off, while Harry looked at her askance. That had come out of nowhere…
"Someone must be there while you write it," Amanda added. "Just a precaution, of course."
That knocked the lady of the house from her reverie. "Ah, yes, of course dear! You don't mind, do you?"
Harry struggled not to show, well, anything, while he struggled to think. Think! What could he do, if they saw him writing his name on the letter he'd be done for, and if he didn't then they'd ask why he didn't sign his name!
"Are you okay?" Amanda said, eyebrows raised.
Gulping, Harry reached for an answer from his panicked thoughts… "Ah, yes - I, erm, didn't give my real name to Tom."
He didn't dare look up, knowing Amanda Soothe would be watching him with new suspicion.
"Why ever not?" Lady Cybeles said airily.
Only one thing to do now, Harry thought, taking a steadying breath. "My mother, I- they said she died of natural causes… but… but I'm not sure, and my dad, when he was alive, he always said we had enemies, so I thought…"
Ashamed, Harry lowered his head, hoping they would mistake his guilt for grief. What was he doing, lying to these people who'd taken him in? He remained like that for a few long, long moments, while the unwanted, creeping thought crept into his mind. What if they didn't believe him? What would happen then? Did the castle have a dungeon? Surely it did, with big iron bars an-
"Oh, you poor thing!" Lady Cybeles cooed.
Harry let out a breath. Thank G- Merlin!
Amanda patted his shoulder, but what would comfort a normal child only made Harry tense.
"What did you call yourself?" She said lightly.
"Harry," Harry answered. "It's close to my own name, easy to remember."
Lady Cybeles lifted his chin with her finger until his eyes met her own. "And you feared, child, our suspicion if you signed a false name on this letter?"
"A-uh- yes."
She wrapped him in an awkward hug from across the table. Harry forced himself to relax, finally allowing his burdensome guilt release in the form of hot, wet tears which poured down his cheeks. He did not weep for the mother and father he never knew - those tears had long since dried in a cupboard under the stairs - but for a lie; not the lie he had weaved but the fact he'd weaved it. Shame swept through him like a searing tide, pulling at nerves, grasping at his heart. He almost wished he'd been called out.
A/N
*Yes, that is a real… real mythical animal from German folklore. Chimeric forest creatures seem to be a common theme in central Germany, with similar animals said to exist in the Palatinate and Thuringia.
Pretty short chapter this time - but I'm not going to artificially lengthen the chapter just for the sake of it.
Take good care of yourselves out there,
Jousting Alchemy.
