Many thanks to those who continue to review. getting those messages throughout the week are a real boost to keep writing, it is a fact. Not only are the twin current projects going smoothly, but the rewrite of the now coined "Harry Potter and the Age of Magic," is moving along, somewhat slowly as I pace myself through the different challenge of looking over my old work with a more critical eye. In addition, I can feel the yearning to continue work on my side projects, which is always a good sign regarding the internal muse and its eagerness to produce. So, all in all, things are well, keep up the excellent comments and enjoy. ~F
Chapter Twenty Three
Book of Secrets
Severus arrived at the back dungeon room at precisely a quarter after the end of breakfast, which he had been doing since the school year started, to meet with Mr. Potter and continue their conjoined Potions tutoring, as well as Severus studying the strange and quite different magical talents that the boy seemed to possess.
It was strange to think about, but there were things that the boy could do, because of his heightened levels of magic Severus suspected, that almost seemed to defy even the laws of magic. But at the same time, there seemed to be an order and rules to the different activities themselves, so Severus was unsure of what to think regarding them. The door in question unbolted instantly upon his knock, and the Potions Master entered, sealing the room once again to prevent their discovery, not that many would dare to follow him anywhere willingly.
The boy was already present, bending over a desk with a rod made of copper in his hand, the entire length of the small item covered in glowing runes as what looked like a scrap of muggle paper, not parchment, began to dissolve into dust before him.
This indeed was one of the strange concepts that the boy possessed, but it was similar enough that Severus had no problems identifying it as a rather raw and basic form of enchanting. The only strange part was, instead of using his own magic to power items, it seemed that Potter took magic from other items, converting it into dust or other strange components, and used those to create the same effects that trained wizards did for hire throughout their world.
The page in front of the book suddenly smoked and began pouring off a noxious odor as black, sludge-like particles started to fly off of it, and Potter leapt back as it did so, making sure not to breathe any in. "What on earth was that?" Severus demanded, walking over. He recognized the cloud of black smoke as the aftermath of a reactionary defense mechanism for some dark artifacts, and how the boy had managed to get a hold of one was beyond him.
"I'm not sure, something I picked up in the castle while assisting the investigation into the Chamber of Secrets attacks…" Potter replied, frowning at the massive burn mark on the desk, all which remained of his attempt.
"Well, be more careful, some items have powerful countercharms upon them to protect them from tampering, and I believe you 'disenchanting' then as you call it would count as attempting to destroy it, next time let the Headmaster handle any such investigation of clues, so they're not haphazardly left who knows where in the castle." Severus said sternly, but not harshly. He had come to realize through these meetings that Potter truly had very little idea about their world, despite growing up in a magical setting. Therefore leniency in some area was proper, especially common sense things that most wizards took for granted, but would have been well above what the boy was accustomed to.
"Yes, sir," the boy responded, putting away the copper rod and moving on, back to his cauldron that had a plethora of herbs waiting beside it and water boiling within.
"What sort of concoction are you preparing this time?" Severus asked, leaning over to look at the various herbs and items that the boy had brought.
"An Elixir that imitates the effects of trolls blood in whomever was to drink it, allowing their wounds to mend on their own in a flash…" was the boy's reply, which in and of itself was a baffling concept, but he had already seem some fairly astounding things that the boy claimed to create out of a cauldron, so he didn't question it, merely watched the Potter moved about quickly, gathering up measures of two fairly common herbs, although not ones that Severus ever thought would make any sort of potion together, especially without other components to work off of.
The boy haphazardly throw them in, one measure of the first to two measure of the other, and simply walked away while the plants stewed in the cauldron. "It's a fairly slow process, as the herbs need to render down in the boiling water before being stirred, so I can work on some more ink and writing while I wait." He explained to Severus, grabbing a handful of strong roots and proceeding to smash them in a pestle, almost pulverizing them in his haste to reduce the plants to their base materials.
Vials were summoned and placed in the window after being filled with the residue of the plants, waiting for the moon to rise that evening, but Potter withdrew a few vials of finished ink already, as well as a fresh quill that had never seen ink before.
Rolls of parchment also were brought forth from somewhere in the boy's robes, and Severus, drawn by curiosity, found himself stepping forward to read over the boy's should as he leaned over the parchment, quill dipping almost ritualistically in the silvery moonglow ink, before it literally flew over the parchment, the shimmering silver ink gleaming in the wake of the quill.
At first, Severus thought they were Gaelic runes that the boy was writing, but he could understand those, Ancient Runes having been highly useful for his Potions Mastery, but these were nearly illegibly to him as a form of writing, albeit similar in appearance. Once Potter finished however, the ink started to glow brilliant blue, before returning to its original state. The works of magic that this boy did were astounding, even in something as basic as writing, Severus wondered just what the scroll would do, or said, but the boy was not forthcoming about it, merely rolled the scroll closed and pocketed it and the quill.
"The Elixir should be ready for the next stage now," he announced, crossing back to the boiling cauldron, which was, quite to Severus' surprise, had turned a sickly green color, almost teal. The boy grabbed a stirring rod and started to swirl the potion several times quickly, before declaring it finished.
The entire concept baffled Severus to no end, and he highly doubted that it would work as intended. The doubt must have been clear on his face, as Potter glanced at him once, before grasping a silver knife and pricking his own finger, allowing blood to well up and drop to the floor to prove he was injured.
"Observe…" he said flatly, placing a single drop of the Elixir on his finger, and Severus blinked in surprise as the cut closed itself instantly, just as the mending charm that Madam Pomfrey was famous for.
Just shaking his head in disbelief at the magic that he had witnessed, not so much the effect but that the boy had accomplished it with so few ingredients, Severus glanced at the time, "It is well past the time we normally end our sessions, so until next week then, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, I'm all but finished for the moment; I will be placing this cauldron full in vials and departing momentarily. Dinner in the Great Hall as usual I presume?"
"Indeed, but you may want to hurry, as it's about to begin." Severus said neutrally.
"Yes, Sir," Potter responded, doing exactly as he said he would, summoning vials to gather up the potion, even as Severus departed out of the dungeon room. He wouldn't express it to the boy directly, but even Severus had to admit that he was impressed with the level of magical astuteness that the boy possessed. It was not mere Potion making that the boy was doing, but indeed full out Alchemy, the level of which he had never know before from what was described in books or handed down by word of mouth.
Normally, those that were deemed true Alchemists were something of hermits, only imparting their knowledge to those who would follow in their footsteps. Even Albus was not a full Alchemist, even though he studied and assisted the famed Nicholas Flamel for quite some time. Severus had asked only once, but Albus had brushed it off with his usual air of senility, and a casual, 'I wasn't quite in the perfect state for such work full-time.'
Something that even the great and brilliant Albus Dumbledore wasn't an expert at. It was quite a shock to find out. And to top all of that off, Potter was creating an all new concept of magic through his production of magical inks, more than simple novelties, but ink that was specifically designed to work with magic for effects that Severus had still yet to actually see.
While he would be reporting all of this to the Headmaster, naturally, he also would be making special recommendations for the boy's third year, even though he was not a Slytherin, he felt that even the founders would have come together to make sure that one so gifted would have all the advantages needed to succeed at his fingertips.
Severus just hoped that he was not making a big mistake, and the Dark Magic residue in the boy was more than just a benign reminder that the boy had had a strange and still quite mysterious past. Perhaps he needed to put more pressure on Albus to find out those details, once this fiasco with the Chamber of Secrets and its nonsense was finally done away with.
There were some things that shouldn't have been kept secret, even if they needed to use Veritaserum to get the answers at last from the boy. Severus made his decision, and instead of going to the Great Hall for food, changed course directly for Albus' office.
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Nobu'tan smirked as Snape finally left him alone in the dungeon classroom. The man had grown slightly complacent when it came to these little meetings, as Nobu'tan had established a pattern and stuck to it until this day, leaving immediately after the sallow man and going straight to the Great Hall for dinner.
But today was not to be that same plan.
The little black book had consumed Nobu'tan entire focus throughout since the moment it had dissolved the potion he had created to study it, transforming it into a noxious poison, and it was only a momentary carelessness on Snape's part that had prevented the man from paying closer attention and noticing the dark magic on it.
A windfall of luck for Nobu'tan, but he had made sure to not even come close to addressing it again until the man had left. Flicking his wand so that the vials would fill themselves and return to his potions kit, he removed the book from his robes, rolling it over in his hands once more in an attempt to find where he had torn a corner of a page to test, but… it was gone, as though the page had grown back.
It almost felt as though the book was alive sometimes, but this mysterious reappearing page seemed to confirm it for the young warlock. This book was indeed alive in some fashion, and he had a sinking suspicion that it was directly involved in these attacks. Flipping it open casually, he pulled out a regular bottle of ink and a quill, allowing a single drop to drip onto a page at random.
Like a dried sponge, the book absorbed the ink until there was nothing left. Just to be sure, Nobu'tan did this again thrice more, before committing to writing a short message into the pages of the book.
'My name is Tobias Banu…' he was not about to use either of his 'real,' names, and he doubted that any knowledge of the alias from Dalaran had ever been mentioned, so he would use this here and now.
Almost suprisingly, if not for the fact that Nobu'tan expected some sort of reaction, the ink vanished, soon to be replaced by another message, in response. 'Hello Tobias Banu, my name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?'
Smirking at his luck of finding a book that responded so easily, Nobu'tan dipped his quill and wrote back, 'someone tried to dispose of it in a bathroom, and I found it.'
It took only moments for the next reply to appear, 'Well, it's a good thing I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.'
The young orc-raised warlock could tell immediately the lure when it appeared, the unspoken tug towards asking what knowledge the book contained, to keep the conversation going, as well as the rising power of the tendrils of magic that surrounded the book as it was written in.
But for the answers he sought, Nobu'tan would play along as a foolish and impressionable student. 'What do you mean?' he wrote back.
'I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things.' The book replied, almost smug with itself in that effect, 'Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'
Now the book was trying to subtly gain an awareness of where it was, but supplying a location of its supposed contents, but regardless Nobu'tan pressed on, allowing his hand to go faster to show false excitement. 'That's where I am now! Horrible things have been happening at Hogwarts now as well. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?'
The response was almost laughably quick, and the handwriting sloppy enough to match his forced untidiness, but at the same time almost exactly as forced. One who studied the art of inscription could tell in a heartbeat, and Nobu'tan knew that whatever inhabited in the book was hoping to bait a hook for Tobias to continue writing and believe the mystery Tom in the book so badly.
'Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend; that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippit, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.'
And thus the lie was revealed; as well as the direct desire of the book's report to the unwary reader. Nobu'tan could see the level of perspective that was imparted into the recounting, and knew he could hardly take any of this as the truth, even if some of the facts were basically true. Besides, did he not use the same methods to confuse and deflect others when he wanted to avoid talking about particular subjects, like Azeroth and Gul'dan?
Now he got serious with the book, flourishing the quill a bit in his response, 'where was the dead girl found, if I may ask? I am part of a student group investigating the attacks we're having now, although no one has died yet, and any help would be appreciated.'
Unsurprisingly, it took the book a bit longer to form a response, and while it matched the writing style of the previous messages, Nobu'tan could tell that the book was once again guarded and trying to figure him out again. 'The girl was found somewhere on the second floor I think, but it matters little, when I know that I caught the culprit in my time, so there can only be so many options for who it is in yours. Let me show you what happened, and you'll understand what I mean.'
Nobu'tan almost laughed at reading that message. It was clear that, as the book was so insistent that he see Tom's side of things, that that should be the last thing he do. Carefully, he worded an appropriate response that should raise the unknown person's suspicions too high.
'I'm not exactly in a private place right now, so I don't know if I'll be observed while that happens. Couldn't you just tell me so we have a name to investigate, if not anything else?'
The book seemed to wait a ridiculously long time to respond, and the young warlock liked to believe that it was silently fuming at being foiled because of its inability to see around itself.
'Alright, but I insist that nothing I say will make perfect sense unless you let me show you exactly how it happened. But the culprit was a large boy by the name of Rubeus Hagrid, who had brought in the monster from outside the school, and whether he intended to or not, let it loose through the castle where it attacked people and killed the girl in a bathroom…'
And so there was the nutshell of Tom's perspective. Whether it was true or not, Nobu'tan didn't care, as he didn't believe a word of it, at least regarding the half giant. While the man appeared fierce and was indeed built like a small house, he was extremely kind and gentle, even to one who didn't want his company, like Nobu'tan. Only propriety had spared him having to endure more of the large man's company, as the man understood that they barely knew each other, and it would be inappropriate for him to attempt to reach out beyond the occasional letter, which he did about two to three times a month. Nobu'tan responded, if only to be polite, but through these he was aware that the man would rather die himself rather than endanger a single student at the school, even those from Slytherin, which he distrusted intensely.
So to believe that that man was the one responsible, even accidentally, for the attacks was laughable. It also proved that this Tom was either a complete moron, which was unlikely, or that Tom in fact was the culprit, and used Hagrid as a patsy for the sheep of the wizarding world to blame, which was more likely, while still rather improbable.
However there was little for Nobu'tan to go on, rather than the fact that Tom had let slip two things about the girl who had died. That it was on the second floor, and in a bathroom. Ironically there was a ghost that matched that description perfectly, and he had already had the privilege of meeting her.
Unfortunately, there was little time to head up and try to get an unobserved meeting with the ghost, so Nobu'tan wrote a quick note of thanks and departure to Tom in his little book, and stowed the thing away carefully with his supplies, leaving the rest out for the next time he came down here. He locked the door with magic on his way out, and proceeded up to dinner, nodding once in the direction of his Slytherin allies as he entered, and receiving calculated responses from the five other warlocks, who were probably still mentally preparing themselves for their upcoming trek into the forest to hunt creatures of the night.
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When nightfall of the chosen day came, Draco found himself only partially nervous regarding entered the Forbidden Forest blindly, with only his warlock abilities and whatever demon he summoned to protect him. Lord Nobu'tan had demanded that they all leave their wands behind, so that they were forced to use only their strength with fel magic to protect them in those trees, and it left those who were less adept at it more than a bit concerned.
Draco knew that he, Theodore and even Blaise would be more than safe, as they had all progressed to the point where they had summoned and bound Voidwalkers to their wills, but both Crabbe and Goyle had yet to achieve that, and only had control over their Imp minions to protect them.
It was still good that they would be more or less going about in a group, along with Nobu'tan, investigating the forest and slaying anything that proved too much of a challenge to go around or frighten away.
Sneaking out of the castle with five other people from the dungeons was a task, but they somehow managed it, meeting with the Ravenclaw in the midst of the greenhouses, well out of sight of the towers and windows thanks to the many covered areas strewn with plants blocking the view.
"Well, are we all ready?" the young warlock asked the five of them, and Draco nodded, despite a small stone settling in his stomach as he knew there would be no turning back now.
"Excellent, we shall proceed then, do not summon anything until we're well inside the forest and out of sight of the castle and its magic. Wouldn't want any of the mages to detect what we're up to now would we?"
Without another word, they were off, crossing stealthily over the grounds and skirting the line of trees nearest the gamekeeper's hut until they found a suitable crop of trees that would camouflage them as they summon their demons.
Crabbe and Goyle were the first done, bringing forth their imps with looks of disappointment on their faces. Draco, Theodore and Blaise reached through the void and drew the shimmering blue clouds of hatred to them, which condensed into their Voidwalkers. Finally, Nobu'tan brought forth his demon, and all five boys looked in shock as the scantily clad female demon stepped out of the portal, shaking herself and smirking at all of them lustily.
"Hmmm… you're in trouble now…" she said, smirking at all of their faces, before blowing a kiss at the one who had summoned her, who just frowned.
"Wh…what is that?" Blaise asked first, and somehow, Draco was not surprised that he was the first to react to a nearly naked, nearly human, female creature appearing in their midst.
"This is Sartai, if you're smart you'll not allow her looks to draw you in, a demon is still a demon regardless of the form it takes…" Nobu'tan said shortly, before returning his attention to the surrounding trees. "Let us proceed…" he announced, before leading the way into the thickest part.
The three Voidwalkers were sent in first, followed by Lord Nobu'tan and the Succubus, with the rest of the warlocks and the pair of imps trailing behind. Draco kept his eyes open as wide as possible; making absolutely certain that nothing was trying to maneuver around their group to attack from the sides or back of them. The forest was chillingly silent, and the hairs at the back of his neck were itching with how badly he did not want to be here, but still they pressed onward.
Occasionally Nobu'tan would summon a floating eye and send it ahead of their group, scouting around in all directions, but for a long while into the night they encountered nothing of note, the whole of the forest seemingly aware of their presence and instinctively shying well away of the fel magic.
That only lasted, however, until they neared the dark heart of the forest, where the group of warlocks discovered the forest growing steadily darker, and strands of thick silken webbing covering the trees disturbingly. Draco knew of only one creature that was large enough to do this, and it was one that he knew was not going to be pleasant for any of them to encounter.
Without warning, the Succubus whirled, the whip in her hand lashing out as a massive body leapt down in their midst. It was an Acromantula, the most vicious of all giant spider species, and the five Slytherins leapt back reflexively, even as Nobu'tan and the demons jumped toward the prospect of battle.
Unfortunately, Draco remembered from his personal studies of the animal part of the wizarding world that Acromantula never hunted alone, and their colonies numbered usually well into the hundreds, if not more, and so he instantly was alert, checking the treetops around them, and growing more worried with every set of eyes that glared down at them as many more spiders lowered themselves on threads of silk to try and surround the warlocks.
Instead of panicking, however, Draco took charge, directing the other four with him to aim their fel magic at those spiders that were closing in first, buying their demonic minions time to finish with the first attacker and come to their aid.
Volleys of shadow bolts were soon raining at these spiders, even as the first spider died in a fiery explosion, which Draco momentarily thought would be bad for them, drawing more to them, but later rethought that the fire would protect their rear from being approached as quickly.
The Voidwalker leapt forward as the first waves of spiders reached the ground, imposing themselves between their masters and the enemy, while the imps leapt upon Crabbe and Goyle, fireballs leaping in torrents from their little hands even as the two meatheads conjured more bolts of darkness to lob with great force at the enemy.
The succubus stealthily darted between spiders, keeping well away from the snapping pincers and trampling legs as they dealt with the Voidwalkers, her whip striking hard and true at the many eyes and unprotected underbellies of the vicious creatures.
And Nobu'tan himself, Draco noted, was not acting at the moment, but rather building up power in the fel magic, growing steadily darker and more shadowy. But then a spider tried to dodge around his minion and Draco had to return to the fight, throwing a spell that cause an affliction to unstably sprout up in the acromantula even as the Voidwalker knocked roughly into the beast, refocusing its attention on the small blue demon.
Then there was a small detonation next to him, and Draco jumped. Whirling to look, he was aghast to find that Nobu'tan had transformed. The scrawny Ravenclaw was gone, replace with a towering, dark purple demon, with massive horns and wings that stretched to the ground where hooves pawed once, just before the demon leapt into the air with great force, transforming once again into a fel meteorite as it crashed in the midst of the spiders.
The force sent the insects scattering momentarily, but then the demon was among them, tooth and claw raking through hides and powerful blasts of fel magic being throw like water from a fountain.
Pure chaotic magic spewed forth from the demonic form, not only causing great damage and havoc among the spiders, but infusing the other warlocks with more magical reserves, and they drank in the power to fuel themselves, the strength of their spells receiving the benefits of increase power and accuracy.
But even still, the spider swarm continued to flood down from the trees, and Draco wasn't sure how long even they could hold out against the near endlessness of their ranks. One particularly large spider, seemingly unafraid of the massive demon that Nobu'tan had become, charged in, pincers snapping and legs flailing.
The demon caught the mandibles in both clawed hands, straining with darkened grunts and with a flurry of hisses and clicks from the spider as they pair battled for dominance in their grapple. All around them, the smaller acromantula were starting to regain their bravery and launch another wave, so Draco ordered the warlocks and their demons to press forward and back Nobu'tan up in case the others attempted to ambush him while he fought with the massive spider.
They took defensive positions around Nobu'tan, Crabbe, Goyle and their imps peppering the massive spider with fire and shadow to aid Nobu'tan, while the Voidwalkers, Sartai, Theodore, Draco and Blaise hammered the encroaching waves from the spider nest, keeping them well back until the massive one was down.
But once more the tide turned, as Nobu'tan unleashed a chaotic bolt of dark green energy, that struck the spider he was holding in the many-eyed face, and causing it to release the demonic form, scuttling away in some form of terror, which gave Nobu'tan the opening to cast.
They all jumped when another massive bolt of pure chaotic energy erupted out of the demonic hands, slamming into the massive spider with great force, and slaying it instantly. The other spiders paused as the massive one died, before losing all the fight in them and retreating, scurrying with all haste back into their gigantic nest beyond the trees.
But the demonic form that Nobu'tan had taken clearly wanted to pursue and destroy them, as fire started to erupt from the clawed hands, and he looked like he was preparing to leap after them and set fire to the trees of their nest.
"Wait!" Draco heard himself cry out, and the demon turned, unreadable madness in its eyes as it gazed over the five other warlocks, who were all worn out and in some cases sporting minor injuries. Draco waited with his breath held, unsure whether Nobu'tan was in his right mind still, or under direct control of the magic he had invoked, but it escaped him in a rush as the form melted away and shrank back to the Ravenclaw.
"You are right, we cannot as of yet press on as I would want to," Nobu'tan said, barely looking even winded from the battle, "We shall take time to recuperate, and try another expedition sometime in the future. Take note of anything that you learned about yourselves during the fight, as battle-won experience regarding your abilities is a rare and valuable commodity."
Draco agreed on principle, as there was indeed much he had learned about his fighting style and the way Nether magic worked in conjunction with it, but at the same time there was a great deal of things he learned regarding his leader as well. The hot-tempered, almost bloodlust-like rage in him that was clearly a warped heritage from his Gryffindor parents, mixed with a ruthlessness that was learned from whomever had taught him the powers of the fel magic, coupled with the direct magical link that Nobu'tan had formed with the Nether, which allowed him access to greater strengths and powers than any of the other five warlocks.
Draco hadn't even heard of such a thing as transforming yourself into a demon, and initially he would relish the concept, but now seeing it in action he wasn't so sure if it would be the best idea for him. There seemed to be a bit of madness coupled with the transformation, and that could be extremely dangerous at the wrong time.
Still, he gratefully followed Nobu'tan out of the forest, helping keep watch in case anything tried to attack while they were all tired and distracted from their previous fight with the acromantula.
He couldn't shake the feeling, even when they finally snuck back into the castle proper, that they had been watched the entire time they were in the forest, but it was a ridicules thought, as there was nothing that could have followed them from the castle without being spotted by either them or their demonic servants.
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Hermione could sense that something was off with Harry and his Slytherin friends. Over the days of January and the beginning of February, she could just tell that something was different, wilder perhaps, about the group of boys. It seemed like each of them had rolled in something unpleasant, but over the days and weeks it had faded to a minor smell, enough so that Hermione paid it little mind now compared to how she had initially.
She had made casual mention of it to Harry at first, but the other mage had shrugged it off, saying that he was trying a different method with the Slytherins, hence why they had not participated in Hermione's growing group of mages, which had swelled in ranks ever since they returned from the winter holidays.
Apparently, the student body was far more open to the concept of Hermione knowing a different type of magic than just the traditional wand-based style, and was eager to learn what she had to offer. Even keeping it a relative secret from others, especially the adults of the wizarding world was not terribly a problem for them, but just the same, Hermione had enforced a vow of silence regarding the Arcane to all not in the know, enforced by magical contracts that each member had to sign with magic and their name. All in all, their numbers were pushing past twenty, with more that wished to learn a bit more before committing to learning the ways of the Mage, although they agreed to the vow of silence.
Yes, Hermione could easily say that all was going well, in both Hogwarts and their outside projects that took place at the school, when she walked into the Great Hall on February the fourteenth… and walked straight into a garishly decorated room. One glance at the Head Table spoke of what had occurred. All of the Professors present seemed greatly on edge and annoyed, except for one.
Gilderoy Lockhart was beaming from ear to ear, glad in violently pink robes, and happily eating his food while scanning a stack of cards that he presumably been sent to him.
That man was another thing that had convinced Hermione of the great wisdom that Harry had with his power in the Arcane. Once she had mastered the technique, she had quickly been able to sense the levels of magical power in others, even non-mage wizards, and unfortunately Gilderoy Lockhart was the weakest she had ever met, even lower than most first year students.
From there it was easy to deduce that the man was completely fraudulent in his tales of his own exploits, as there was no possible way that a man with such low levels of magical aptitude would be capable of those feats.
Harry was already present with a group of Ravenclaws, and Hermione walked over to him on her way to the Gryffindor table. Aside from the usual air of aloofness that the boy presented in the mornings, Harry seemed particularly annoyed and confused with all the decorations, as well as Lockhart in general.
"Tell me," he asked in a low whisper once Hermione came close, soft enough that the others at his table wouldn't hear, "what is this occasion that has all of the girls all a twitter, and the boys looking nervous and overeager to prove their masculinity…?"
Hermione almost laughed, but constrained herself. It made sense that Harry wouldn't have heard of the holiday, he having grown up in some far distant place that was sheltered from even the magical world, "Well, Valentine's day is a holiday celebrating romance…" she said hesitantly, smiling at the rather blank look from the Ravenclaw. She had the distinct impression that the concept simply did not compute with the twelve-year-old.
Unfortunately, before she could explain further, Lockhart stood up. "Happy Valentine's Day!" he shouted to the hall, "And may I thank the forty-five people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all… and it doesn't end here!"
The man clapped his hands once, and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarves. But these were all wearing little golden wings and carrying harps, not to mention looking downright furious at these facts. It was clear that Lockhart had put them up to it, and while they had agreed, they were not pleased about it whatsoever.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids," Lockhart said, beaming. "They will be roving around the school today, delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop there! I'm sure my colleges will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Hermione and Harry just blinked silently at the insane man. Both Flitwick and Snape were looking particularly affronted at being singled out the way they were, and while Flitwick was a dueling champion, he was relatively harmless in the way of random acts of violence, but Hermione thought that the man was walking on thin ice by provoking Professor Snape like he did.
"I get the feeling that this is going to be an extremely painful day for all involved…" Harry said sagely. And indeed he was proven correct, as the dwarves continued throughout the day to barge into classes to pass out the notes, and even poorly sing some valentines to highly embarrassed students, much to the annoyance of all involved or witnessing.
The capstone was, after a combined Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Charms class with Professor Flitwick, who refused to answer anyone who asked about Entrancing Enchantments, one of the dwarves started to approach Harry, elbowing people hard to get them out of its ways.
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"Oy, you! 'Ary Potter!" shouted a gruff voice that vividly reminded Nobu'tan of times in Khaz Modan, and he slowly turned to face the grim-looking dwarf.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," the short man said, twanging his harp in an almost threatening manner. Nobu'tan didn't care for the tone whatsoever.
"I refuse it, now go away…" he said coldly, turning and walking away before the dwarf could begin.
"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, seizing his bag and yanking him back roughly. In a moment of blind rage, instinct took control, and fire leapt to his command, blasting the dwarf off of him and igniting the man's beard. The surrounding students leapt back, but what Nobu'tan focused on was the intense tearing as his bag was rent from the force of the dwarf's hold on it.
Items went everywhere: books, ink, quills, even some of his personal items that he took with him everywhere just in case, such as Tom Riddle's Diary. In a flash his wand flew through the air, summoning back every object he could see, and mending the bag in a heartbeat for the items to reenter. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to check if he had everything, as the prefects were coming to see what the commotion was, and naturally Nobu'tan had accidentally used fel magic to empower the swiftness of his spell.
He dashed away, uncaring as to who had seen or would speak regarding his action. He knew that he had not killed the insolent dwarf, and he was acting in self defense from a perceived threat. As for fel magic, Dumbledore had clearly empowered him with license to use it once, so why wouldn't he have slipped up and used it by accident once again. Weren't the Dark Arts as the wizard called them addicting or some such rot?
There was nothing that they could honestly hold against him for his accidental outburst. Although, being honest with himself, Nobu'tan felt rather exalted for having finally used his power in public for once, even if consequences were to follow it. Much like Hermione's instant fame, attention would be placed back on him, and while that was unfortunate, there would be ways to mitigate the damage.
And in the end, there was nothing that they could find out just yet that would compromise the invasion of the Legion from moving forward, not when Nobu'tan had the former Death Eaters to operate outside of the school while he was trapped here within. For what little bit of entrapment there was naturally, with his discovery of portal magic and how it could circumvent the wards of the castle.
Still, there would need to be preparations made to weather this storm. And firstly, he needed to make sure everything of his was in order. Quickly sorting through those things he had placed in the bag, Nobu'tan was able to ascertain what was still present, what was damaged and had to be replaced, including a pair of highly difficult inks that cost him time to produce, and what was missing. Raging slightly, he realized that Tom Riddle's Diary was indeed missing, and green fel fire danced across his body in his anger.
"So this is your black magic then, Harry…" said a voice behind him, and the orc-raised human's eye widened as he realized he had been followed. Turning slightly, trying to calm himself from the power that yearned to be released, he glanced at the doorway at Albus Dumbledore.
