Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns everything. I, in turn, own nothing.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor, Athena Hope, as well as my betas: 3CP, DarknessEnthroned|MJ Bradley, Luq707, Regress, Thanos, and Thobeobo for their contributions.

ANYONE WHO JOINS MY DISCORD SERVER CAN READ SIX CHAPTERS AHEAD OF WHAT IS POSTED HERE! Chapters also release two days early in audiobook format over on YouTube.

If you want even earlier access, then sign up to m page. They are usually a dozen or more chapters ahead of Discord.

All those links are on my profile, and if any give you trouble, use the direct links on my website's homepage.

Chapter 16: Msaliti

Sweat streamed down and pinned his black robes tight against his back and chest. His hair was slick and his skin felt worn and weathered. The scents of coming rain and blooming wildflowers assailed his every breath. Each inhale was laborious, like the air was rendered through a narrow straw. How do the savages bear this godless place?

Tom loathed every leaf around him. The woods here reminded him too much of how the hateful swine had tormented him during arranged outings back at that blasted orphanage. Still he could remember their shouts and laughter as they pursued him, clutching gnarled branches torn from fragile trees.

But all of them are dead. That brought the faint impression of a smile up onto his lips. Dead and buried deep, where no one will ever find them.

The trees began to thin and the heat pressed in closer. Its weight deprived him of his smile, but a glimpse between the loosening knots of brambles relieved the burden some.

That relief faded as the view ahead came into sharper clarity. Great gods.

A handful of balconies protruded from an opening carved into the nearest mountain's face alongside a vast array of windows. They appeared innumerable from this distance and provided some impression of the institution's scale. Five times Hogwarts' size? Six?

High green grass greeted him as the trees shrank back. The flat ground ahead endured for several hundred metres before it reached the mountain's foot.

Halfway there, a small procession waited. There were three tall men in long white robes and matching head caps, while two women stood adorned by flaring dresses woven in pastel colours and embroidered with simple floral patterns.

The tallest of them stepped forward and offered Tom a short but flowing bow. His skin was lighter than the others, and his broad nose was more pronounced. "My name is Akil. I am the school's headmaster and these are my delightful colleagues." A broad gesture encompassed his companions. "You honour us in coming, Mwalimu Riddle."

Tom's charming smile came with the ease of blinking. "Your invitation honours me more still."

One of the women curtsied low. "The children are all excited. We hear it has been a long time since you have given speeches like the one that you have promised."

The faintest strain crept into Tom's cheeks as he maintained his smile. "I felt it was the least that I could offer to repay your gracious hospitality."

"Come," Akil said with a gesture up towards the mountain. "You will be wanting inside and out of this heat, yes?"

Tom blinked away the beads of sweat rolling down his brow. "I would like that very much."

There was no sign of an entrance, and so much magic buzzed around the mountain, deciphering where one might be was difficult.

"I commend your institution," Tom muttered as he looked around. "You must take great pride in heading it. None understand that honour more than I."

"I guess not." Akil's dark brows knit themselves together as he looked Tom up and down. "Many were surprised when you settled for the position of headmaster back in Scotland."

"There was no settling." It was the truest thing he had yet said. "I always dreamt of watching over Hogwarts. It was the first home I ever knew."

"I understand," Akil said with a knowing smile. "Schools like ours have a magic all of their own."

"Yes," Tom murmured, still searching for where the entrance might be concealed.

A golden band shone a shade too bright when Akil held up his arm, and a slab of stone twice his height and thrice his width melted mere feet in front of them. A glance around revealed Tom's escorts all wore identical accessories. Clever.

The mass of rock reformed once they had stepped inside, plunging them into utter darkness. The vast chamber was lightless as a thickly wooded clearing on a cloudy, moonless night, but Tom could still make out the circular walls enclosing them. Half a hundred torches hanging in decorative brackets carved into the mountain flared, throwing down dim light and long shadows.

The hall was reminiscent of a well's dark depths. There was no sign of the floor above; the yawning darkness overhead seemed to stretch up forever, like a lift-shaft too vast for functionality.

That was, until he caught a flash of motion high above.

It really is a shaft. Having descended soundlessly, a carpeted lift soon halted feet in front of them. It was immense and open-aired, enclosed by wooden rails but lacking proper walls.

All six of them stepped through a gap in the rails and settled near the large lift's centre as it began ascending.

"There is some time still before all the students congregate for supper," Akil informed him. "Al Mutasarif has chosen to attend the day's festivities and has asked that I bring you to him at your earliest convenience."

Perfect. "You may do so now, if the service is not too great a burden."

Akil flashed that gleaming smile. "Not at all."

The halls were still and silent. Narrow and without windows, they left him tense and faintly breathless.

Trapped, a small part of his mind whispered. Tom could all but hear explosions in the distance, could almost feel the floor beneath him tremble despite the stones remaining stable and unmoving.

Tom suppressed a scowl. I have conquered death itself. Those dark nights held no power over him.

Akil stopped before a wide wooden door whose golden handle gleamed against the dark stone wall it was set into. Tom thanked each of his five escorts and knocked three times.

"Come."

Sleek, orderly racks filled with bottles of rich red wine lined the walls to left and right, while ahead, glass reached from floor to ceiling and revealed a large balcony beyond.

The African governor rose from the chair he had been occupying. Rarely had Tom felt in any way diminutive, standing six-and-a-half feet tall himself, but this man dwarfed him utterly. Staring into this giant's collarbone, he estimated that Muhindo must have been thrice his width.

"My friend!" Muhindo clasped Tom's hand. The governor's felt like it had been forged from concrete and the strength with which he pulled Tom into a rough embrace was irresistible. Coiled muscle bulged under flowing robes of forest green that were neatly lined with gold as he permitted his guest freedom. "How are you? I hope travel was kind?"

"It went as well as can be expected," Tom said, smoothing out his sweat-soaked robes. "The heat has taken a greater toll than I anticipated."

"Ah. It is cold this time in Scotland, yes?"

"Yes," Tom said. "January tends to be among our coldest months."

Muhindo chuckled. "The opposite is true here."

"I've read that. It will be a welcome reprieve once I've grown accustomed."

"You plan to remain here for some time, then?"

"Several weeks, yes." Inhaling the smell of burning incense, Tom at last relaxed. "I have had a difficult patch back home and required a sabbatical."

Muhindo dropped his brick-like hand hard on Tom's shoulder. "I am happy you chose my domain for this outing. You do me great honour." The governor removed his hand and threw a glance around the office. Following his lead, Tom spotted a variety of pelts swaying on long hooks hanging from the ceiling and a lion's head nailed above the office door. "My manners have abandoned me. Come, sit. Can I fetch you wine?"

Tom lowered himself into a high-backed chair. A humbler man than I expected. "I could do with wine, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all." The governor reached underneath the desk and withdrew a staff two-thirds his own impressive height.

Tom watched as Muhindo used it to summon a bottle of wine along with two glasses. Just as he had read, the staff appeared to be a conductor, no different from a wand. Just another way of masking our weakness.

While Muhindo occupied himself filling glasses, Tom studied the man's right hand. Each finger was twice the width of one of Tom's, but what intrigued him was the ring.

It was there, just as he had expected. Not unlike Potter's. That one appeared to have been forged from iron, whereas this was wrought from something different and more difficult to place. Too pale for silver, but clearly metallic.

Muhindo snatched both glasses from the air and placed them on the desk. "I hope this is to your liking."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful." Tom plucked up his glass and sipped. It was sweeter than he was accustomed to, but the earthy layer lurking underneath that pleased him. "It is very good."

Muhindo smacked his lips. "Akil has good taste."

"This is his office, I presume?"

"Yes. He was kind in lending it to me."

Tom dragged up a trademarked smile. "As kind as you are for meeting me in person."

"Bah." Muhindo waved a massive hand. "I am not so high and mighty as to pass up interesting company."

"You flatter me."

"Not so," the governor insisted. "You would not believe how rare interesting conversation has become."

There was nothing artificial about Tom's thin smile then. "You would be surprised by the things I will believe."

Muhindo frowned. "You must be careful with believing. It can be dangerous."

"The advice is much appreciated, but I am not a gullible man, just an open-minded one."

Having drained his wine glass in a single gulp, Muhindo poured himself a second. "Good. I would hate for you to have been made wary by the stories some men tell."

An eager flare went up inside Tom's chest. "What sorts of stories are you referring to?"

"Many," Muhindo said, setting down the bottle. "Most men who meet me have heard them. You can see it in the ones who believe. The weakness in their knees, the tremble in their hands, the manner in which they look away."

Tom looked straight into his companion's eyes — never had he resisted the urge to delve into another's thoughts quite the way he did then. "And this displeases you?"

Muhindo did not blink or look away. "Sometimes."

Fool. "Many men spend years dreaming of such a reputation."

Muhindo's thick lips curved up into a smile that screamed of hidden secrets. "I understand the way only a man who has walked in those shoes across a barren desert can."

A drop of disappointment trickled through Tom. "So you planted the stories? They're untrue?"

The governor hummed, long and low. "Those are two different questions."

"So they are." Tom was forced to concede he had underestimated Muhindo's intellect. "Did you spread the rumours?"

"Spread? No. Cultivate…" Muhindo's shrug was like a rumbling mass of stone.

"And the truth?"

"It is there, if you know where to look. Truth is in all the best tales, is it not?"

"Why, of course." Tom altered the implications etched into his smile so they whispered subtle understandings. "If I had breached a city's walls during the midst of a heroic effort, I too might begin to tell the tale in certain ways."

Muhindo clapped his hands and laughed. "Good, good." A fraction of the man's mirth faded. "That was a dark day, but a good day. I did tear down those walls, but it was after I had breached them and only once the day was won."

Tom searched every inch of Muhindo for the faintest shadow of deception yet found nothing but the glow of reminiscence. Impossible. How could a man tear down city walls?

Pondering his next words, Tom took another sip of wine. "Why is it that, at times, your reputation displeases you?"

"You must understand, comfortable men are open men. Wary men grow skittish and uninteresting. Better to try washing the sands from a desert than to pry for truth or intrigue in a man who is afraid."

Yes, this man was far sharper than anticipated, but Tom knew better. If a man is afraid in the right ways, he will hold back nothing.

Muhindo had dispatched nearly three bottles of wine by the time the sky outside had darkened. Tom had not drunk a third so much, yet he felt tipsier than the governor appeared to be.

That was when the first sounds of stirring came from the halls that had, thus far, been quiet. The chatter was distorted and the footsteps sounded distant, but hearing anything after so long in silence startled him.

"There are no breaks here." A bashful pride punctuated Muhindo's thick words. "I know Hogwarts believes in these gaps, but we do not. The students work from breakfast until supper. All of them. We do not permit laziness or empty schedules."

Tom allowed a certain edge into his expression. "From a less-mannered man, I might take that for a subtle threat."

Muhindo let out a deep-bellied laugh that brimmed with heedless mirth. "Oh, my friend, I do not make threats."

Uagadou's great hall was circular and cavernous. The largest brazier Tom had ever seen burned in the great room's heart, and a scattered array of tables lined half the walls. Students of all descriptions filled those seats, each adorned with a golden armband. There appeared no rhyme or reason in the way they grouped together; Tom guessed there was no seating arrangement at all.

Perhaps that was a mercy. Children from all across the continent attended Uagadou, and rifts torn open during both the Conquest and more distant history remained jagged and unhealed.

A fourth of the walls was given up to an elevated dais on which the masters sat. All the males wore the same white robes and head caps, while all the females were in matching dresses every bit as bright.

A glass window stretched from floor to ceiling and occupied the remaining wallspace. Beyond the glass, distant peaks stared back over the low valley and its rings of trees.

Tom glanced skyward and realized there was no ceiling. The walls vaulted up and narrowed, but high above, a thousand stars shone down through the mountain's gaping maw.

Tom was seated in an enclave carved into the wall some five feet above and three feet behind the masters' dais. His chair was gilded and to the left of Muhindo, on whose right feasted Akil. Attempts to track the students' chatter were wholly ineffective. There were at least a dozen foreign tongues being spoken in his earshot..

That night's expansive supper was the first thing Tom had enjoyed all day. Samboosas stuffed with beef and lentils, seasoned flatbread covered in diced meats and fresh fruits and vegetables, stews with spicy flavours he was unaccustomed to, and on, and on, and on.

Akil rose when the final plates had vanished. The hall hushed almost all at once. Tom listened as the man introduced him and listed off all he had accomplished. Too little. He crushed down the impulse to scowl. Far too little.

The quarters he was shown to following his speech were elegant and expansive in equally impressive measures, but he did not remain there long.

Soon the sounds of rushing water filled his ears as it tumbled over high falls and frothed atop the stones below. Birds fluttered from branch to branch in nearby trees and the wind was like a warm breath tickling his skin.

"You can come out now," Tom told the flickering outline of a shadow sheltered in the underbrush. "I can see you."

Stepping soundlessly, the man let down his hood. Deep lines were etched into his face and the beginnings of rot were creeping through his mouth. "How did you see me?"

Branches sighed in the light wind; on it rode the scent of distant swamps. "A man must have his secrets."

"Funny." The accent was distinct from Muhindo's and Akil's. "This coming from the man who has promised gold for answers."

"I did, didn't I?" Tom's whisper was like the rustling of the long grass or the drip of water off the drooping leaves. It had rained here not long ago.

The man nodded his bald block of a head. "You did."

"And you are Danso?"

"Yes."

"You were once a South African commander who waged battle against Muhindo and the Batwa people prior to his treachery?"

"You know this already." Impatience was plain across the veteran's dark face. "We discussed this."

"You have my apologies. I only sought to make certain there were no mistakes." Warm wood pressed against Tom's palm. "I am wary of men who claim that they are honest. It's only natural. I have never known what that affliction feels like." Quiet comprehension filled the brief and silent pause, but it was too late in coming. "Crucio."

The sound of Danso's screaming tumbled down the waterfalls and echoed through the woods. Out in this wild place, it might have travelled miles.

Incoherent curses rasped from Danso in the short gaps between desperate, heaving breaths when a pause had been permitted.

Tom's heart was pounding now. It could have been done cleanly or in a fairer fashion, but not that night. His legs trembled and something hot and fierce crawled up inside his skin. There was no greater relief of stress.

Danso spat a glob of blood into the grass. "Traitor!"

"No." Tom's voice was like a caress. "That is what you call the man whose story you are about to tell me."

"No pleasure is evil in itself; but the means by which certain pleasures are gained bring pains many times greater than the pleasures."

— Epicurus

A huge thank you to TheBassAsha'man from my Discord server for his consultations on this chapter. The aid of someone who has lived in Africa and who understand nuances I do not was invaluable.

Thank you as well to Kau, Kit, and Lui, all of whom assisted my audiobook narrator in refining accents involved in the recording of this chapter. If you haven't checked out the audiobook, I cannot recommend it enough. It is voice acted and edited by a professional and it shows. The link is on my profile.

A special thank you to my high-tier patron, Cup, for her generous and unwavering support.

PS: The next chapter will be out in one week. Remember that chapters can be read early on Discord, YouTube, an N! All those links are on my profile, and if any give you trouble, use my website's homepage. That site can be found via a generic Google search of my pen name.