Disclaimer: I own stuff, stuff that does not include the Cthulhu Mythos or Harold Paettr, those belong to Miss Rowling and, er, the ghost of H.P. Lovecraft? Please forgive me for the long wait. I graduated High-School in May, so I decided to take a well-deserved break.
"§Happy fourteenth birthday, Kleo!§" I spoke, landing on the Girl-Who-Lived's lap with a soft thud.
Kleo's eyes cracked open and she slowly sat upwards, her thick red hair was a mess, most likely the byproduct of a fitful night's sleep, "§I had another one of those dreams, Xen.§" She rubbed her eyes with one hand, "§And it's August! My birthday was three weeks ago!§"
This again? Voldemort must've been really busy, "§What was this one about?§" I sighed, quietly placing a small gaudily-wrapped box in her hands.
"§An old woman being murdered in an abandoned mansion,§" Responded Kleo, slicing open the wrapping with her prosthetic hand, "§Am I sick in the head, Xen?§"
I shook my head, "§Ah, no, it's probably nothing, just an odd dream.§"
She opened the box, revealing a beautiful silver ring engraved with all manner of designs, "§Xen, it's beautiful!§" Kleo spoke.
"§It is named Kol,§" I said, "§And it shall protect you from any harmful potion.§"
Kleo slipped Kol on, causing it to momentarily flash with golden magick, "§Thank you, Xen.§" She said, giving my head a little scratch.
"§Daw, shucks,§" I responded, conjuring a pall mall.
The Girl-Who-Lived snorted, then wrinkled her nose as I lit the aforementioned cigarette, "§I swear to god, Xen, someday you're gonna regret doing that.§"
I hissed out a laugh, "§What, am I gonna get lung cancer? As if.§"
"§You have little tiny snake lungs,§" Kleo snarked, "§You're probably more susceptible, or something.§"
"§I don't have 'little tiny snake lungs,' my dear,§" I replied, "§I have no lungs.§"
"§Then how are you talking,§" Kleo said dryly.
I looked her straight in the eye, a great feat considering that this form had no eyes, and said, "§Magick.§"
"§That's your answer to everything,§" Kleo groaned, dragging herself up and out of bed.
I attempted to shrug, "§Well, most of the time it is the answer.§"
Several minutes later, Kleo descended the stairs and swooped into Number Four Privet Drive's kitchen. She absentmindedly nabbed Dudley-doo's piece of grapefruit whilst he was busy whining about only having a piece of fruit for breakfast. Vernon meanwhile, was sitting in his armchair counting out the painkillers he was to take for a horribly nasty leg fracture sustained three weeks earlier. An event that, surprisingly, I had nothing to do with.
With Kleo's arrival, an eagle owl we both recognised as Moloch, flew in through the open sliding door in the kitchen and deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet along with a letter stamped with a green wax 'M' onto the Dursley's table. Casually, Kleo snatched up the two items as Petunia screamed about 'freakishness' or something.
Scotland To Host the Quidditch World Cup!
Huh. Well that was certainly different.
Closing the newspaper after a cursory read, Kleo popped open the letter, which was obviously from Tacita, considering its wax seal.
"§Ah, your first date!§" I teased after reading the letter.
Kleo's face turned an interesting shade of tomato red, "§Shut up, Xen.§"
I chuckled, "§I shall not! Say, maybe you should send her a response, I don't believe Vernie would appreciate it if they tried to floo.§"
The Girl-Who-Lived nodded in agreement, her cheeks still resembling ripe apples. Ah, young love. Or was it? Eh, who cares.
A day later, the Malfoys thankfully didn't arrive immured within Number Four Privet Drive's fireplace like the Weasleys did during my tenure as Harry Potter. Vernon tried to kick up a fuss about Lucius and Tacita's rather wizardly attire, but that quickly ended when he inexplicably and very abruptly fell asleep mid-sentence. Ah, painkillers, truly a fickle mistress.
"Tacita, it's wonderful to see you!" Kleo said, wrapping her arms around the other girl, who did the same.
The blonde smiled, "It's great to see you too! Are you ready to leave?"
"Yeah," Kleo nodded, gesturing towards her trunk.
"§I think we best skedaddle,§" I hissed, "§Vernon is gonna wake up soon, and we don't want to leave a bad impression, y'know with his nightmares and whatnot.§"
Kleo picked up her trunk and walked out the door, Tacita following closely behind.
"Grab my arm, Miss Potter," Lucius said, holding out both.
Tacita and Kleo grasped his arms tightly, with a crack and the feeling of being squeezed through a small tube, they appeared in Malfoy Manor's spacious drawing room.
The Girl-Who-Lived turned to Tacita, "How are we gonna get to Scotland?"
"§Portkey most likely,§" I hissed.
"Portkey," Tacita responded seconds after I had.
Kleo raised an eyebrow, "Portkey?"
"§Think of it as a sci-fi teleportation device but magick,§" I spoke.
"Ah," Kleo said, nodding.
"Xenophon tell you?" Tacita asked, a knowing smirk plastered across her face. At Kleo's nod, she added, "At this point, I doubt there's anything that he doesn't know."
"He does know quite a bit about, well everything, doesn't he?" Kleo chuckled.
"§I've been around longer than human civilization,§" I said, my tone casual, "§It's only natural that I'd pick up a few things in that time.§"
"Huh," Kleo replied.
/ / / / / / / /
Quidditch, quidditch, quidditch, quidditch, quidditch. Oh, how I found quidditch uninteresting. I sighed, conjuring a bottle of Maison Alandia with a straw piercing its cork. Might as well enjoy myself if I had to sit through this a second time. It's true that I literally cannot get drunk, but at least I could have something to drink.
Glancing away from the exhilarating game, Tacita immediately noticed the bottle that floated in front of me, "Is Xenophon drinking," She looked closely at the label, "Absinthe?"
Kleo put her omnioculars down and looked at me, "I guess he is." She said, going back to watching the game as if it wasn't surprising, which it was not.
Tacita opened her mouth to say something, but closed it and shook her head.
Ireland won in the end, as it did in my universe, the only difference being that Viktoria Krum caught the snitch.
Several hours after the game ended, I found myself curled up in front of the tent's fireplace when the sounds of a crackling fire were suddenly overshadowed by screams and general panic. It wasn't long after that Kleo, Tacita, and Claudius came stumbling out of their respective rooms.
"§Xen! What's going on?§" Kleo asked, making her way over to the fire.
I stretched out my wings, "§Death Eater attack, it's nothing to worry about.§"
"§Xen, an attack is the definition of something to worry about!§" Kleo responded, gathering me up in her arms much to my protests.
Claudius, who had opened up the tent flap to take a look at what was going on outside, turned back to Kleo and Tacita, "People are burning down tents!"
Tacita meanwhile, had gone very still, her eyes wide. Interesting, she must've been told what her father was going to be doing.
"§If you insist that this miserably-executed attack is something to worry about,§" I snarked, tucking my head into my coiled up body, "§Then I suggest you head towards that rock formation we saw on the way in.§"
Kleo, always quick to process information, pushed past Claudius and said, "C'mon! We'll hide in the rocks!"
And that's what they did, dashing past screaming witches and wizards, the trio ran away from the sounds of drunken laughter and the orange glow of burning tents. The rocks were craggy, weathered, and covered in patches of moss, but they had a shape and placement that suggested they may be what remained of an old megalithic stone circle.
Wait, what was that? I managed to wriggle out of Kleo's arms and slither towards a half-buried stone. Scribbled, or possibly burned into the rock was 'ᚷᚩᚱᛚᚪᚳᛁᚾ ᚱᛖᛋᛏᛖᛞ ᚻᛖᚱᛖ' or 'Gorlakin rested here.' That wasn't right, those were Anglo-Saxon runes, I cast a small spell over the stone, 2536 BC? But that made no sense, if my spell was accurate, and I knew it was, that string of runes was written well over two-thousand years before Elder Futhark became a widely-used system of writing. Gorlakin, were you meddling in time travel? No, no, it wasn't that simple, this was a conundrum of highest order. And that name, I swear I'd heard it before, and it most definitely wasn't in this universe.
My contemplation was abruptly halted when a stray spell from the nearby battlefield slammed against the rock I was studying. Sending an explosion of stone bits, and me, flying into the air. I landed with a thud several feet away on the cool grass.
"§Xen!§" Kleo cried, getting onto her knees and crawling towards me.
I hissed in the direction of the campsite, "§I'm fine, Kleo. Just, get behind that stone with the others.§"
"§But-§" Kleo started, looking very conflicted.
"§Do it!§" I responded in a firm tone.
Kleo glanced back at Tacita and Claudius, then at me, and finally she crawled back behind the stone. With a second hiss, I slithered towards the burning campsite before shifting into my Dark Pharaoh avatar when I was halfway there.
"Ciemio Ultimus!" I snarled, holding my arms out.
In an instant, a torrent of insects came pouring out of the space in front of my fingers. Biting flies, wasps, bees, locusts, all streamed out in a great swarm that immediately descended upon the small group of Death Eaters. The change was very noticeable, as no longer were screams of the innocent the loudest heard that night.
The dark wizards tried desperately to fend off my swarm, but alas, there were too many biting stinging insects for them to handle. I only banished the tide once every single one of those idiots had been stung or bitten multiple times. Shifting back into my snake form, I slithered back to the rocks just in time to witness Tommy-boy's great green sigil form in the sky. Barty Crouch Junior, apparently a specialist in the field of great timing.
Six days after the great insectening, a slightly swollen Lucius bade Kleo and Tacita farewell at King's Cross Station. This was it, the school year I would get to chew Voldemort out about his terrible choice in immortality. I wonder what his excuse would be? Ah it didn't matter, I wouldn't be too angry, as long as he hadn't done something stupid like read only one book on Horcruxes before deciding to make 'em.
Even nearly a week after the fact, I was still thinking about that message. Gorlakin, that name, why was it so infuriatingly familiar!? I needed answers, I needed to make an Otapetris.
/ / / / / / / /
A dark purplish-black bowling ball-sized sphere sat on the area of the Slytherin house table I had, er, let's say, requisitioned. Floating around and carving complex runic sets into it were no less than six pairs of hammers and chisels. My effort to create an Otapetris had attracted a gathering of students, mostly from Ravenclaw, who were either watching or scribbling down notes.
Kleo's eye twitched as another bit flew off the sphere and hit her in the forehead, "§My life was once normal.§"
I hissed out a laugh, "§My dear, your life was never normal.§"
"What is he even making?" Tacita asked.
"Haven't a clue," Kleo responded, now shielding her head with a plate.
"§It's an Otapetris, a spying stone,§" I said, banishing the hammers and chisels as I finished the last string of runes.
Kleo looked at me with narrowed eyes, "§Spying- wait, Xen are you a pervert or something?§"
I chuckled, "§No, my dear, I'll have you know that I only have eyes for one. And besides this stone is to be for finding something, not peeping.§"
Sending a pulse of magick into the Otapetris, every single rune I had carved into the stone began pulsing with golden light, and my view of the Great Hall was replaced by one of the Earth, as if I were in high orbit. With a thought, it zoomed in, centering in on Iceland, the Westfjords area to be specific. Zooming in even more, a dot of bright light became visible, soon the dot had transformed into a vaguely rectangular shape, then the outline of a body buried in the Icelandic soil. Found ya, Gorlakin.
"§Kleo,§" I said, turning to her, "§I'm sorry to say it, but you're going to be without me for a while.§"
The Girl-Who-Lived's eyes went wide, "§What! Why?!§"
I sent my Otapetris into a pocket dimension for safekeeping, "§There are currently things that desperately need answers.§"
Kleo seemed to deflate, "§But-§"
"§I'll be gone two weeks, three at the most,§" I spoke, "§I have faith that you'll be able to handle anything that's thrown at you.§"
"What's going on?" Tacita asked, leaning over, concern for her very depressed-looking friend etched on her face.
"Xen's leaving," Kleo responded dully.
Tacita snapped over to look at me, her expression now one of surprise.
"§If it makes you feel better, you can always send Hedwig, I can't promise that I'll respond but,§" I offered, trailing off.
Kleo nodded sadly, "§Well, bye.§"
I slithered over to her, "§Don't worry, Kleo.§" I soothed, "§You're a strong young woman, I'm sure you'll be fine without me for a few weeks.§"
She gave me a watery smile in response. I wrapped myself around her arm and squeezed affectionately, before fading from the Great Hall.
I reappeared in a form that had many names, but the one I liked most was Sigtyr. The form, Sigtyr had the appearance of an old bearded one-eyed man wearing a gray wide-brimmed hat with a tall crown, along with this was other pieces of medieval Scandinavian clothing, the colors of which were mostly grays, browns, and in some cases blues.
With a flick of my wrist, the dirt covering Gorlakin's cloth-wrapped skeleton rose away, allowing me to step into the grave and examine the corpse. A spell revealed that his cause of death was self-inflicted blood loss? What?
I dragged a finger across the moist nearly black cloth, leaving it sliced open cleaner than if my finger was a Nether-Force Blade. A small three-inch-long seax was lodged between two of Gorlakin's ribs and a rotten brittle wand was clasped in the skeleton's right hand. I immediately noticed how said wand was pointed towards one of the wizard's grime-covered ribs. Conjuring a damp rag, I scrubbed at the dark gunk, revealing a set of runes carved into the bone. 'ᚹᛖᛋᛏ ᛁᛋ ᚦᛖ ᛞᛁᚱᛖᚳᛏᛡᚾ ᚦᚪᛏ ᛁᚩᚢ ᛘᚢᛋᛏ ᚷᚩ, ᚪᚳᚱᚩᛋᛋ ᚦᛖ ᛋᛠ, ᚢᚾᛞᛖᚱ ᚦᛖ ᛁᚳᛖ ᚢᚾᛞᛖᚱ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚾᚩᚹ' translated from Anglo-Saxon runes this message said 'West is the direction that you must go, across the sea, under the ice under the snow.'
"It's a fucking scavenger hunt," I sighed. Yep, and it was one currently leading me in the direction of Greenland.
My Otapetris popped into existence, and once again I sent a pulse of magick into it. My view was replaced by one of Earth, I zoomed in, this it centered in on Greenland. I zoomed in more, and a pinprick of light stood out against the whiteness of the island's ice-sheet, zooming in more and more, the dot of light soon took the shape of a great stone buried under the snow.
"Huh," I spoke, stroking my braided beard, "Gunnbjørn Fjeld, interesting."
Banishing the Otapetris back into its pocket dimension, I hopped up out of the grave and released my hold on the soil, causing it to fall back into place. Without a sound, I faded out of existence, reappearing atop a snow-capped nunatak, where the icy wind made my tattered faded royal blue cloak flap wildly.
Spying the top of the stone just peeking above the snow, I waved my hand, and the powdery substance was swept away from it, revealing, much to my annoyance, another message in Anglo-Saxon runes. 'ᚷᚩ ᛖᚪᛋᛏ ᚾᚩᚹ, ᚠᚱᛁᛖᚾᛞ ᛏᚩ ᚪ ᛋᛘᚪᛚᛚ ᛞᚪᚾᛁᛋᚻ ᛁᛋᛚᛖ, ᚦᛖᚱᛖ ᛁᛖ ᛋᚻᚪᛚᛚ ᚠᛁᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᛋᛖᚳᚩᚾᛞ ᚩᚠ ᛘᚪᚾᛁ' or in English, 'Go East now, friend to a small Danish isle, there ye shall find the second of many.'
I groaned.
/ / / / / / / /
Instead of two or even three weeks, it ended up taking me nine weeks to find to other three-hundred and fucking ninety-eight messages. I felt as if I were half crazed when I finally laid eye upon Gorlakin's diary, for at that point I been to every continent on the planet, became famous for killing dangerous magickal creatures, saved a Saudi Arabian millionaire's son from djinn, killed a Mongolian Dark Lord who was attempting to restore Genghis Khan's empire, stopped a cult of some sort from assassinating the Chairman of the NPMC or the Nationalist Party of Magical China, joined a band of roguish thieves in their quest to find the Lost City of Z, cured one of King Edward the Ninth's corgis of its cancer, possibly got engaged to a Neo-Mughal governor's daughter, I wasn't really paying attention to what the guy was saying, broke into the American National Archives Building to steal a rubbing George fucking Washington had made of Gorlakin's long-destroyed one-hundreth clue, and many many many other things that I never wanted to ever do again.
The diary was a massive book, thick as a brick and reeking of magick. By Azathoth! Gorlakin had been writing in this thing every day for one-hundred-thirty-three years, judging by the dates of the first and last entries, now that was dedication. Skimming through it, I found a wealth of information, every entry had notes upon notes about all sorts of magickal research, some of this stuff even I hadn't thought of!
I abruptly stopped reading, under the date 'Maius III, MMDXXXVIII' was the string of runes 'ᛏᚻᛖ ᛋᛖᚳᚱᛖᛏ ᛏᚩ ᛘᚪᚳᛁᛝ ᚢᚾᛁᚠᛖᚱᛋᚪᛚ ᚱᛁᚠᛏᛋ' translated it spelled out the title 'The Secret to Making Universal Rifts.' What the hell. No, no, no, Gorlakin you were officially on my shit-list, even though you were dead, I was going to find your soul and drag it to Father's throne room to answer for the crime you had committed.
Tearing the page out of the diary, I burnt it, then vaporized the ashes.
It took me another week to track down the rather unassuming teenage girl that the soul once belonging to Gorlakin had resided in.
"Stupefy," I said casually and the girl crumpled, "Sicco Anima."
A sphere of light, about the size of a baseball drifted lazily out of her chest, it floated like a leaf in a calm breeze towards me. Reaching out, I grabbed hold of the soul and faded away.
I stepped out of a shadow door into Father's throne room, the soul, which was no longer a ball of light, now a ghostly very-obviously alien face, was squished in my hand.
"Ny!" Azathoth greeted happily, waving a tentacle, beckoning me closer, "It's great to see you again!"
"You're back," Misty said, "And twice in one millennia, this is a surprise."
"Hush, N'yog," The Supreme Lord and Creator of All Things scolded, "To what do I owe the pleasure, my son?"
In response, I threw the soul forward, making sure to remove its sight, "A wizard this soul inhabited broke one of the Fourteen Mandates."
As if a switch had been flipped, Father's jolly disposition evaporated, every one of His many eyes turned towards the soul, their crescent or 'w' shaped pupils beginning to glow with a multitude of colors. And all in the throne room, be it me, Sirius, Misty, or the Darkness, felt an oppressive indescribably powerful force settle over us.
"Which one," Father said shortly, His voice deeper and carrying more power than I had ever heard it.
I paused to collect myself, "T-The Second."
In an instant the force was gone and Azathoth seemed to relax, "Good, er, well not good, but better than if it broke any of the others."
"Neverending void?" I asked.
"Neverending void," Father agreed, opening a portal with a wave of His tentacle. The soul that once belonged to Gorlakin was sucked into the pitch blackness.
Sirius, who was still breathing heavily from Father's prior fury, "What the shite was all that about?!"
"Nothing you need to know about," Misty said darkly.
The Darkness and I nodded in agreement.
/ / / / / / / /
Finally, early on the morning of November twenty-fourth I returned to Hogwarts. As I expected, Kleo's name had popped out of the goblet of fire on Halloween, the Hufflepuffs absolutely hated her, and Dumbeldore was still a complete idiot. What I did not expect was a very prim and proper lady sitting up at the head table, Beitris Crouch, so apparently Hogwarts' resident paranoid auror impersonator wasn't a junior at all!
"§As I live and breathe,§" I hissed, appearing around Kleo's neck while she sat in the Slytherin common room, desperately flipping pages in my grimoire, "§Kleodora Potter, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!§"
The red-haired girl's face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she reached up to grasp at my serpentine body, "§Xen!§"
Tacita meanwhile, had turned and was now glaring at me, "Where has he been?"
"§Traveling the world!§" I responded, "§Looking for a bunch o' bullshit!§"
Kleo snickered, running her fingers over my scales, "Looking for bullshite apparently."
"§So, I hear you've been selected to be in the Triwizard Tournament,§" I said, slithering away from her neck and towards her waist.
"Yeah," Kleo responded, her tone much less cheerful, "And the First Task is in ten minutes, can you help me?"
I gave a hissing laugh, "§My dear, of course I'll help you!§" I paused, "§Do you have any idea what you'll be facing?§"
"§Yeah,§" Kleo replied, "§A Lethifold.§"
That was certainly different.
"§Ah, the Living Shroud,§" I spoke, my tone wistful, "§The rejected spawn of Kthanid.§"
One of Kleo's eyebrows rose, "§Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about?§"
"§Nothing, nothing,§" I responded, "§Page nine-eight-five in the grimoire will give you the spell needed to drive one of those things off.§"
Kleo snorted, "§One problem, you didn't number these pages.§"
"§Oh," I responded, using a bit of magick to flip through the grimoire, "Here you go then. It's the one written in red ink.§"
"'§Sancta Luminis: Romero's Sword,§'" Kleo read, "§Xen, what the hell does that mean?§"
Really? What was I thinking with that description? Man, the late seventies were a crazy time, "§That means it'll destroy zombies, and any undead really.§"
"§What about Lethifolds?§" Kleo grunted.
I hissed out a laugh, "§Oh yeah, most 'dark' creatures will not have a fun time with this spell.§"
Kleo raised an eyebrow, "§Well, it's better than nothing.§"
I laughed in response.
Eight minutes later, I sat on the lap of a still very mad at me Tacita, gazing down at the stadium field below. Said stadium differed greatly from the one 'Harry Potter' faced a dragon in, it was made to resemble a sleepy caribbean island, complete with palm trees, white sand, and a light black creature resembling a frayed leathery blanket that had attempted to camouflage itself in the shadow under one of the aforementioned palm trees.
"Oh, please stay safe, Kleo," Tacita said as she laid eyes on the Lethifold.
Adjusting myself slightly, I responded in English, "She'll be fine as long as she uses Romero's Sword."
Tacita's gaze snapped away from the slightly-fluttering creature faster than a Sleipnir-class Longship delivering a message to the Dominion's farthest reaches, "W-What?! You can- what?!"
"Oh look, Kleo's coming out," I stated casually.
True to my words, Kleo, who was clad in a green and silver track suit, over which was a steel cuirass trimmed with green and silver, stepped out of an opening in the stadium wall. The Lethifold immediately rose up, extending its very crustacean-esque eyestalks and numerous venom-bearing tentacles. It flew towards her, its edges fluttering slightly in a very cuttlefish-like fashion.
If this form could smile, it would've as Kleo swished her wand upwards and said in a commanding tone, "Sancta Luminis!"
"Great scott! Would you look at that!" Bagman declared, "What a spell!"
The crowd 'ooo'ed as a blindingly bright ray of golden light appeared from the end of Kleo's wand, shining down upon the Lethifold, causing it to emit an odd hissing sound and quickly move to retreat back into the shade. Kleo dashed forward, making sure to keep the ray of light bearing down on the now-slightly smoking creature, she snatched up a golden replica conch shell and, still keeping the Lethifold on the ropes, fell back to the small opening in the stadium wall.
"And there you have-!" Bagman's prattle was beginning to annoy me so I cast a spell that sewed his mouth shut.
Tacita let out a sigh of relief as another identical golden conch appeared in the center of the stadium. Was that-? You know what, I didn't care. The Malfoy heiress speedily made her way down from the stands and into the Champion's tent, I followed her slowly and lazily.
"Kleo!" Tacita said, wrapping her arms around the Girl-Who-Lived, causing her to let out a startled squeak.
I slithered over, "§Told you Romero's Sword would work.§" I spoke, my tone smug.
The red head smiled, breaking out of Tacita's embrace and holding her arm out for me to slither up, "§Thanks for the help, Xen.§"
"§It's what I'm here to do, my dear,§" I responded, curling around her waist.
Kleo ended up getting a ten from Madame Maxime, a ten from Crouch, a ten from the still-silent Bagman, a seven from Dumbledore, probably part of another brainless scheme, and unsurprisingly a five from Karkaroff. I guess he was slightly more impressed with Kleo than the other version of him was with 'Harry Potter.' The rest of the task was quite boring in my opinion, Krum, Diggory, and Delacour all tried conjuring patronuses. Patroni? Ah, who cares, they all failed to make it corporeal, Delacour just barely brushed one of the Lethifold's tentacles, getting stung and in the end having to be saved by the creature handlers.
/ / / / / / / /
Ran shrieked in great pain as a horde of conjured fire ants went to town on his, ahem, delicate areas. Most students in the corridor didn't spare the howling boy a second glance, seeing as this was a normal occurrence. The few Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students meanwhile, were looking around in shock at the widespread apathy being exhibited by the British wizards and witches.
"Sorry about him," Kleo spoke, stowing her wand as she walked up to Fleur Delacour, "He's a bit of an idiot."
"Is 'e going to be-?" Fleur started, trailing off as Ran started furiously tearing at his pants.
"Yeah, he'll be fine," Kleo assured, "He's just gonna do that until one of the Professors comes by and takes him to the Hospital Wing, I'm Kleodora Potter by the way."
Fleur, still gazing in horror at Ran, nodded dully.
"Kleo!" Called a voice from behind her.
Tacita, an excited, though somewhat forced grin plastered across her face, practically skipped over to the Girl-Who-Lived. I began to wonder if she had been fed a potion of some sort, the only time I had seen her act like this was during Kleo's nineteen-ninety-two visit to Diagon Alley, and that was due to the Infernal Skunk, who was obviously Flying Polyp food.
"Yeah?" Kleo asked, turning away from the part-veela.
"I've got a date to the ball!" Tacita squealed.
Ah, so that's why she was acting so odd.
Kleo smiled, "Ooh! Who?"
"§Prolly that boy that has a crush on her, what was his name?" I wondered, "§Magnus-er, Malachi-?§"
"Medraut Dukair!" Tacita responded.
The Girl-Who-Lived whistled, "The heir to the Dukair Arctic Bamboo monopoly? How'd you get him? I was under the impression that he talked to no one other than his sister."
"He just waltzed up and asked me!" Tacita smirked, "Seemed really nervous too. Do you have a date for the ball?"
Kleo shook her head, "No, I think everyone's scared that I'll hex 'em."
"But the only person you ever hex is Weasley?" Tacita asked, her brows furrowing.
"I guess they're afraid I'll start hexing them too," Kleo replied flippantly.
It was Tacita's turn to whistle, "Wow, that would make you like one of the only students in our year to not have a date."
"Don't put it like that," Kleo groaned, her mood turning sour at the other girl's words.
"Well it's true!" Tacita spoke, "From my point of view you only have two options, and that," She pointed at Ran, who lay in a passed out heap, having long-since gone unconscious from pain, "Is one of them."
Kleo looked over and shuddered, "Gimme the other."
"Claudius."
"§Claudius?§"
"Claudius?" Kleo asked.
Tacita looked around, grabbing Kleo's hand and pulling her into a disused classroom, she shut the door and leaned against it, "Please, please, please take him to the ball."
"No, he's a second year," Kleo said, frowning.
The Malfoy heiress raised a hand, "A second year that has an absolutely massive crush on you."
I let out a suspiciously laugh-like cough as Kleo's face took on a look that greatly resembled a startled deer, "What? H-how do you even-?"
"Mum told me," Tacita responded, holding both her hands up in a placating gesture, "Haven't a clue why, but-." She trailed off.
Kleo growled low in her throat and after a period of silence, said, "You owe me."
"Thank you," Tacita spoke, clasping her hands together, "Forgive me if I came on too strong, but I keep getting letters from Mum, she keeps talking about dress robes and jewelry and the Malfoy heir ring."
The red head's gaze softened, "I'm gonna need a dress and makeup."
"§Don't worry about that, my dear,§" I butted in, "§I'll get both for you.§"
"Actually, scratch that," Kleo said, "Xen says he'll get me both."
Tacita frowned, "Are you sure you wanna do that? Remember what happened the last time Xen got someone something."
"Madam Pomphrey never was able to reattach Smith's finger," Kleo nodded, "But I doubt Xen'll give me cursed makeup, he's my bodyguard after all."
"§One that is going back to the common room,§" I said, slithering out of Kleo's sleeve, "§I need to get started on your dress.§"
The Girl-Who-Lived raised an eyebrow, "§You aren't going to just buy one? The ball is less than a week from now.§"
I looked up at her, "§Dearie, I made the white dress Marilyn Monroe wore in the Seven Year Itch, on the day shooting started, it is well within my skills to create an entire outfit for you in three days.§"
"§Funny, I thought William Travilla made- wait Dearie?§" Kleo spoke, beginning to snicker, "§Xen, you're starting to sound like an old woman more and more.§"
Sniffing disgustedly, I said, "§I refuse to dignify that with a response.§"
Not waiting for her to respond, I faded from the hall.
/ / / / / / / /
"§Is the dress ready, Xen?§" Kleo asked as she walked into the fourth-year Slytherin girl's dorm, a great portion of which I had turned into part salon part dressmakers workshop. It was the night of the ball, and I had quite a bit of work to do.
I bustled over, a large assortment of items floating around me, "§Yes, yes, here, here, put these on!§" Practically throwing a black all-in-one-style corselette, a pair of black brief-style panties, a pair of seamed stockings, a long black ball gown with puffed sleeves, and a pair of black leather pumps towards her, I slithered towards a conjured makeup station and began sorting through the items swirling around me.
"§What the hell are these, Xen?§" Kleo spoke, "§They look like what Aunt Petunia wears on special occasions.§"
"§They're what your aunt wishes she could wear on special occasions,§" I replied absentmindedly, "§The underthings are silk, the gown is velvet, and the shoes are Italian leather. Now put them on.§"
Oh, how I loved parties! There was dancing and veiled threats, but those were mostly at the ones I host, and someone always makes a drunken fool of themselves near the end! Wait, dancing, did Kleo know how to dance? Crap!
"§Dearie,§" I spoke in a sweet tone, making sure to stay turned away from Kleo, "§Do you know how to dance?§"
"§What?§" The Girl-Who-Lived asked, her voice muffled by what must have been the velvet dress, "§Oh, uh, yeah no.§"\
Dammit!
I paused to collect myself, I was getting far too worked up over this, "§Okay, okay, Kleo, are you decent?§"
There was the sound of rustling fabric, "§Yeah.§"
"§Good,§" I turned around and was greeted with the sight of Kleo adjusting the form-fitting velvet dress's long skirt, "§Now, I want you to look into my eyes.§"
"§You don't have any eyes,§" Kleo retorted dryly.
"§Then look at my head,§" I said.
Kleo rolled her eyes but complied, as soon as her hazel eyes met my non-existent ones, I delved into her mind, imparting my entire knowledge and experience with ballroom dancing onto her. When I broke away, she blinked rapidly, letting out a small hiss of pain.
"§The bloody hell was that?!§" Kleo asked, rubbing her forehead.
I let out a hissing laugh, "§Think about ballroom dancing.§"
Kleo frowned, "§Wh-oh.§"
"§You're welcome,§" I replied in a smug tone, "§Now put on those shoes and sit in that chair.§"
An hour later, Kleo walked out into the Slytherin common room, and was she beautiful! The black velvet dress cut off around her ankles, a design that showcased the dark silk stockings and elegant leather pumps she wore, her hair had been styled in a loose wavy fashion, her lips and fingernails were painted a deep crimson color, a thin coating of black mascara covered her eyelashes, large pearl earrings were clipped onto her ears, pearl bracelets sat on her wrists, and to top it all off, over her dress she wore a thick fox fur coat to fend off the December cold.
Slithering out behind her, I said, "§Dear, you look simply beautiful!§"
Tacita, who sat in the common room waiting for Kleo, stood up and immediately went wide-eyed as she laid eyes on the Girl-Who-Lived, "K-Kleo, you look-" She trailed off, a blush growing across her cheeks.
Seconds later, Claudius and Medraut, both wearing very expensive-looking dress robes, came trudging down the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories. I nearly burst out laughing at their extremely similar reactions upon seeing Tacita and Kleo.
"§Well,§" I said, breaking the short period of silence that followed Claudius and Medraut's arrival, "§I'll leave you kids to it then!§"
Kleo smiled, leaning down to give my head a little pat, "§See you after the ball, Xen.§"
"§Don't do anything I wouldn't do,§" I replied cheekily.
Once Tacita, Kleo, Claudius, Medraut, and everyone else in the common room had left for the Great Hall, I shifted into my Kraeh N'ghan avatar. Kraeh was an avatar I utilized heavily during the Great Mortality, or the fourteenth century Bubonic Plague pandemic, this was due to its appearance, that being a tall extremely thin man garbed in a pitch black ankle-length overcoat, a black leather hood, a white plague doctor's mask with perfectly round glowing red eye lenses, a black leather shoulder cape, a pair of light gray gauntlet-style gloves that were stained with patches of long-dried blood, black cavalier boots, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a raven's feather pinned to the crown, Kraeh also carried around a leather doctor's bag, the Magick Murder Bag, and a black umbrella. I had intentionally designed my Kraeh N'ghan avatar to look like a plague doctor so no one would bother me during my search for the Lost Treasure of Attila the Hun.
Fading from the Slytherin common room, I reappeared in the Great Hall, at the far end to be precise. With seemingly little foot movement, I drifted over towards a table, around which sat several Hufflepuff students.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" One of the students, a sixth year girl, asked as I sat down in the singular empty chair and placed my Magick Murder Bag atop the table.
Slowly turning my head in her direction, an intentionally creepy motion, I spoke saying in a cheerful tone, "Why I am Kraeh N'ghan, my dear!"
At my introduction, all occupants of the table either raised an eyebrow or frowned, "No, really who are you?" The sixth year girl questioned.
"Kraeh N'ghan," I repeated in the same jolly tone.
The girl opened her mouth to say something but was cut off when the double-doors at the other end of the hall creaked open and the champions walked out in a small column. I chuckled slightly as Kleo and Claudius passed by, for the latter greatly resembled a blonde-haired tomato and was staring at the Girl-Who-Lived with an expression I couldn't quite place.
Once all the champions and their dates had sat down, golden plates and menus popped into existence in front of each and every person in the Great Hall, causing several to jump in surprise. I casually picked up one of the menus, skimming it until I reached a section labeled 'Cocktails (Will Only Appear For Witches and Wizards Above Seventeen)' putting down the menu I looked at my plate.
"Brandy Crusta," I said firmly.
An ornate glass roemer filled with amber-colored liquid and an orange twist appeared next to my plate. I reached out and grabbed the cocktail before bringing it to the tip of my mask's beak.
The sixth year girl looked from my blood-stained gloves to my mask, "Seriously, who the bloody hell are you?"
I took a sip of the Brandy Crusta, the liquid simply phased through my mask, "Worshippers of the Holy Lamb call me Pestilence, for I ride upon the white horse. They say I am the first of four horsemen, but that is not true, because I am all of the horsemen, and much more. My shadow is long, though my names are simple. I am oblivion. I am atrophy. I am devastation. I am the end of all things. I am Kraeh N'ghan." I replied, making something up.
A short period of silence followed my made-up bullshit speech. A few of the students at the table I sat at, and even several from a nearby table, turned an odd pale green color. The sixth year girl, however, stood up saying, "I'm gonna go get Professor Dumbledore."
My gaze following her, I took another sip of my Brandy Crusta, "I wonder what her problem is?"
"You're very strange," A third-year boy, most likely an older student's date, responded.
I chuckled, reaching over, popping open the Magick Murder Bag, and putting my hand in, "You know who was really strange? This guy." I pulled out a specimen jar filled with a greenish liquid, suspended in this liquid were a human heart, spleen, tongue, and eyes.
For several seconds after I presented the specimen jar, there was a dead silence from the table's other occupants. Then, seconds afterwards, the screaming started, and I laughed uproariously. Students, both from the table I sat at and ones from surrounding tables, jumped up and attempted to get as far away from me as possible, they ended up doing a remarkable Three Stooges impression as they all tried squeezing through the gap between two tables.
Standing up and replacing the specimen jar in my Magick Murder Bag, I looked around at the pure chaos I had caused by simply pulling something out of a doctor's bag, "Well, it looks like my work is done here." I casually tossed the still partially full roemer away and opened my black umbrella.
I slowly floated upwards, up and up, until I reached the charmed ceiling, which I simply phased through. With the chaotic scene left behind me, I flew off into the night.
/ / / / / / / /
The Daily Prophet's headlines the next day read:
Masked Man Crashes the Yule Ball! Is this Evidence of Dark Wizard Activity?
I guess my antics overshadowed any 'revelation' made about the Half-Jotun.
/ / / / / / / /
"I knew it! You're a pervert!" Kleo shouted, drawing her wand.
Barty Crouch's singular eye widened, "What!? No-!"
"Genonflo! Calcpulare! Vespum!" The Girl-Who-Lived cast, flicking her wand in the direction of 'Moody.'
Two jets of light and a swarm of red paper wasps flew from the end of Kleo's wand. The first, a pink and rather misty-looking spell hit the polyjuiced Death Eater, causing the whites of his eyes to turn a dark inflamed red and thick yellow pus to start leaking from their corners. The second, a peach-colored spell, caused his feet to snap together.
I let out a hissing chuckle as Barty Crouch began screaming as the swarm of conjured red paper wasps started stinging him over and over again. And to think, all of this started with an unintended innuendo.
Kleo turned, striding away towards the exit onto the grounds. The wasps would eventually disappear, the pain would not.
Thirty minutes later, Kleo along with the other three champions and a large crowd were all assembled in a clearing at the base of Mount Merlin, a large mountain to the north of Hogwarts castle. The most noticeable feature of the clearing was a very ominous-looking cave in the side of the mountain, above the mouth of said cave was a wooden sign engraved into which were the words 'Danger! Keep Out!'
"Welcome! Welcome! To the second task of the triwizard tournament!" Dumbledore announced, "As you all may have noticed, this is a cave!"
I snickered, no shit sherlock.
"But this is no normal cave!" Dumbledore continued, "For living in its depths are two tribes of cave gnomes! These gnomes are currently in possession of four people, each of whom are very dear to one of our four champions!"
So Tacita was being held captive by a bunch of disgusting savage cave gnomes, eh? While it wasn't surprising to me, a look of comprehension dawned on her face, this was shortly followed by a frown paired with her eyes glinting dangerously.
"They have exactly six hours to retrieve their treasured person!" Dumbledore said, "The task will start on the count of three, one, two, three!"
The Headmaster blew a whistle and the four rushed into the cave.
/ / / / / / / /
Kleo, who was covered in reddish-orange blood and wielding her seax in one hand and her lit wand in the other, tore through hordes upon hordes of cave gnomes. A snarl was etched on her face, and there was a nearly visible fire in her hazel eyes.
"§We're making good time,§" I commented as the Girl-Who-Lived stabbed a gnome through the throat while simultaneously blinding another by causing her lit wand to flash brighter momentarily.
My charge twirled her seax, some of the gnome blood flying off the blade, "§Do you know which tribe is holding Tacita?§"
"§Let's see,§" I responded, "§Y' ahor mgr'luh ahf' Y' gotha.§"
Instantly, my view was tinted a dark blue, standing out against this tint was a human-shaped patch of bright white light.
"§The right-hand tribe is holding her,§" I hissed.
Kleo nodded, walking forward, her wand illuminating an area several feet in front of her. However she froze, when Dumbledore's voice boomed, coming from seemingly every direction, "Cedric Diggory has been defeated, only three champions remain."
One down two to go.
Several hours of slaughtering cave gnomes passed before we finally found the Chieftain's throne room, cavern? Whatever. Anyway, tied to two stone benches and both visibly unconscious were Tacita and a teenage girl I couldn't be bothered to remember the name of.
Kleo took one look at Tacita and bared her teeth in the gnome Chieftain's direction, "What's happened to her?"
"White lady sleeping!" The gnome Chieftain said, baring its pointed teeth right back at her, "But you kill gnome warriors! Beard man said you only make them sleep! You die-!"
"Correndio!" The Girl-Who-Lived hissed, sending a jet of orange light speeding towards the gnome Chieftain.
In an instant, it began choking, and reddish-orange blood started flowing from great necrotizing wounds on its torso and neck. The Great Gnome's four praetorian guards, who wore headdresses fashioned from fish skulls and animal hide, once they realized what had just happened rushed towards Kleo, their stone-tipped spears held aloft.
Kleo slashed her wand downwards, "Igneterna!"
Deep orange-red flames poured out of her wand, setting all four guards alight simultaneously. They immediately stopped rushing towards Kleo and began running around in circles, like chickens with their heads cut off, and whose flesh was being burned away by magickal flames.
Soon, the once great gnome guards were naught but charred skeletons and Kleo was free to rush over to Tacita.
"Tacita!" She said, shaking one of the Malfoy heiress' shoulders.
"§She won't wake,§" I spoke casually.
Kleo looked down at the spot on her waist I occupied, "§What? Why?§"
"§She's been bewitched, nimrod,§" I replied in a 'duh' sort of tone, "§She'll wake up when you cut her free, possibly.§"
True to my words, when Kleo sliced through the ropes holding Tacita to the stone bench, the blonde's eyes fluttered open and she let out a low groan.
"K-Kleo?" Tacita mumbled, "Where am I?"
"Under Mount Merlin!" Kleo responded, speaking very quickly, "Are you okay? Did those gnomes hurt you?"
Tacita's brow furrowed, "Gnomes?"
Kleo froze, "You don't know about the gnomes?"
"All I remember is being called to the Headmaster's office after breakfast," Tacita informed, "Then, well here you are."
I let out a hissing chuckle, this task was even more poorly planned then I thought it'd be.
The Girl-Who-Lived let out a growl, "I'll kill him!" She walked a few feet away, "I'll strangle him with his own beard! I'll-!"
"You're beautiful!" Tacita blurted out, cutting Kleo's death threats against Dumbledore short.
"What?" Kleo asked, turning back towards the other girl.
Tacita went red in the face, "Y-you-you're beautiful when you're, uh, angry-um, you know what, forget I said anything." She finished lamely.
I couldn't hold it in anymore, instead of a mere chuckle, I burst into raucous laughter. By Azathoth, could she be any more awkward when it came to this whole, situation?
"Shut up, Xen," Kleo said, glancing down at her waist, "And no, Tacita, what do you mean."
The blonde's eyes widened, "Uh-um, it's just that-uh-er-uh, you're pretty and I like you." She said in a very small voice.
Kleo's mouth fell open slightly, and she was silent for several seconds, "You, like me?"
Tacita nodded shakily.
A kind smile stretched across Kleo's face and she reached out, grabbing Tacita's hand, "Oh, Tacita, c'mere." The Girl-Who-Lived pulled the blonde into a hug. "I have a secret, I like you too." She whispered.
"§Hey! Hey!§" I said, giving a little whistle to catch their attention, "§Sonny and Cher! I hate to ruin this touching moment but there's a group of very angry-looking gnomes coming our way.§"
"Who- you know what, I don't care," Kleo said, breaking away from Tacita, "Follow me, we're getting out of here."
Just then, a group of stone axe-wielding gnomes burst through the hide curtains covering the throneroom's entrance, screaming bloody murder.
"Segmelatio!" Kleo spoke, sending a jet of sickly yellow light towards the oncoming gnomes which sliced open their stomachs.
The Girl-Who-Lived turned back towards Tacita, leaned in, and gave her a peck on the lips before grabbing her hand and running out of the de-gnomed room.
/ / / / / / / /
Dumbledore, whose nose was bleeding slightly, courtesy of Kleo, pressed the Elder Wand to his neck, "Okay, Kleodora Potter and Viktoria Krum were the only ones to return with their treasured people, and as such they are the only one who shall receive points for this task. Kleodora Potter is currently in the lead with a score of seventy-six, Viktoria Krum is in second place with seventy-three, Fleur Delacour is in third with sixty-seven, and Cedric Diggory is in fourth with sixty-three. Now, the third task shall take place on April seventeenth. The judges have decided not to bother with secrecy, since it took far too much effort to come up with the last clue. The third task shall be a test of how well our champions can fly!" He spoke. "And flee from horrid graverobbing Mothmen!" Dumbledore added.
Wow, the Ladrones de Cadáveres? The Spanish-American Corpse Thieves? I thought those things were all killed off after that nasty bridge incident back in nineteen-sixty-seven, well, I guess in this universe they weren't involved in a plot to take over Point Pleasant, West Virginia.
/ / / / / / / /
Sirius Orion Black the Third, sat in a decaying chair within a decaying manor with his head in his hands.
"Ah, my Principes de Caedes have returned to me," The small wrinkled baby-like creature Sirius had long-before realized was Voldemort, squeaked, "And you've brought a friend! Does this emaciated convict wish to join the Host of Lord Voldemort?"
Why had everyone gone insane whilst he was in Azkaban?
"No!" Sirius shouted, "My insane cousins brought me to this shitehole! Against my will might I add!"
"That's how it starts," Said a gruff, slightly muffled voice, "First your friend drags you to Malfoy Manor then the next thing you know, you have a tattoo on your arm and are being sent to Azkaban for repeated use of an unforgivable."
Sirius turned and saw Mad-Eye Moody?!
"M-Moody?!" The escaped prisoner sputtered, "What are you doing here? In this house? With Voldemort? And why do you look like you shot a spell at a wasp nest?"
"I ain't that paranoid sack o' dog shite, I'm just polyjuiced as 'im," 'Moody' said, "Pleased to meetcha, the name's Barty Crouch."
Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes. Was the world insane before he was imprisoned? Had he just not noticed it?
/ / / / / / / /
"This is complete and utter rubbish!" Kleo spat, slamming the week's copy of Witch Weekly down on the table.
"§I told you,§" I said in a sing-song tone.
"Yeah, mum stopped reading anything written by around the time she started, well, writing things like that," Tacita said, idly reaching out and grabbing the magazine.
"She paint's that Granger girl as some kind of strumpet," Kleo shuddered, "One that's in a love triangle with me and Cedric fucking Diggory!"
"§Told ya!§" I spoke, "§You shoulda killed her in the broom closet!§"
"Shut up, Xen," Kleo growled, "I've never even talked to Cedric Diggory! How the hell would I be in a relationship with him and that Granger chit!"
"§La vengeance est un plat qu'il vaut mieux manger froid!§" I said.
Kleo growled, "Xen, shut- wait what?"
I chuckled, "§It's French for: Revenge is a dish that is best eaten cold.§"
"§How can you speak two languages at once?§" Kleo asked.
"§Parseltongue isn't technically a language.§"
Kleo raised an eyebrow, "§That doesn't make any sense.§"
"§Or maybe as a being infinitely greater than all human beings combined,§" I replied pompously, "§I have certain abilities, one of which is a voice that simply does not quit!§"
The Girl-Who-Lived frowned, "§You're a jackass, Xen.§"
"§Most definitely!§" I responded, "§Anyway, that reminds me, I'm gonna teach you to fly!§"
Kleo sighed, standing up, "I'll see you later, Tacita, Xen's gonna teach me to fly for the next task."
"Okay," Tacita said, smiling lightly, then her eyes widened, "Hey! I wanted to ask you something."
"Yeah?" Kleo asked, turning around.
Tacita froze, almost as if she were surprised that Kleo answered her, "D-Do you wanna go to the Tea Shop s-sometime?"
"Sure!" Kleo said, giving the blonde a smile.
The Malfoy heiress smiled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. How sweet, reminded me of Yhoundeh and I.
Anyway, twenty minutes later, Kleo stood in the center of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. Slithering back and forth in front of her, a snake's version of pacing, was I.
"§The first thing you must know about flying is that brooms are bullshit,§" I said, "§One can fly perfectly well without some piece of wood, and the incantation of the spell that shall allow you to do so is 'Alio Incrementium.' Now point your wand at yourself and say it!§"
Kleo rolled her eyes at my dramatics, "Alio Incrementium."
With a small pop, two great blue spectral wings sprouted from her back, their feathers fluttering slightly in the calm breeze.
"§Good! Now fly!§" I said.
"§Yeah, what a great help you are,§" Kleo snarked, the fact that she was beginning to float slightly above the ground going unnoticed, "§How do I even-oh.§"
"§Alright, the second thing about flying is how if you're in the air don't cancel the spell, or you'll die.§"
Kleo sighed, muttering something along the lines of 'should have bought a broomstick.'
/ / / / / / / /
"§Ya ready, my dear?§" I asked, fitting the last bit of steel armor onto Kleo's leg.
Kleo nodded rather shakily, "§Yeah, well no, but I'm as ready as I'll ever be.§"
"§That's the spirit!§" I said, slapping her on the back with my tail, "§These horrible corpse-snatching Mothmen will be no match if you keep that up!§" I leaned in, "§Plus I think those three aren't gonna make it, they have brooms.§"
The Girl-Who-Lived snorted.
"Welcome everyone to the third and second to last task of the Triwizard Tournament!" Dumbledore said, "As you all can see, we have contracted the Yell Island Mothmen to be its main obstacle."
The gray creatures buzzed in nigh-unison, their eusociality really showing through.
"Our champions shall each be tasked with retrieving one of these," Dumbledore held up a small silver sphere, "From one of four Warrior Mothmen standing atop that platform up there!"
As Dumbledrawers continued speaking, explaining the task, I slithered out of the champions tent and up into the stands towards Tacita. She was predictably looking at the Mothmen with great worry, most likely for Kleo.
"Don't worry, she'll be fine," I said, once again in English.
Tacita sagged, "And I had just convinced myself that you speaking the Queen's English was a figment of my worry-addled mind." She responded, sighing.
I chuckled.
"The order in which the champions will go is," Dumbledore announced, "Kleodora Potter then Viktoria Krum then Cedric Diggory and finally Fleur Delacour. Miss Potter shall begin her attempt in five minutes."
"That's a bold move," Tacita mused, "It'll be a wonder if there are any of those horrid creatures left for the other champions after she's done."
"Mothmen are like vermin," I replied, "No matter how many you kill, there's always a whole lot more lurking in the shadows."
Tacita glanced down at me, "You have a lot of experience with Mothmen?"
"Unlike some others, I remember what happened at Point Pleasant back in sixty-eight," I said darkly.
"What's that even supposed to mean?" Tacita asked, frowning.
"It means that people need to remember remember the seventeenth of January."
"That doesn't even rhyme," Tacita spoke.
"Isn't supposed to rhyme," I responded, "It's supposed to confuse and anger you! So you'll end up looking for information about January seventeenth nineteen-sixty-eight."
Tacita snorted.
"Five, four, three, two, and one!" Dumbledore spoke, looking up from his pocket watch, "The timer for Kleodora Potter starts now!"
Kleo stepped forward, raising Witherbrand, the flaming claymore I lent her aloft. With a great leap, she flew off into the sky, her spectral wings beating furiously. The Mothman drones immediately flew after her, rotting rusty weapons, likely pilfered from some Norse warrior's barrow held in each of their four arms.
The Girl-Who-Lived glanced back at her pursuers, flicking her wand in their direction, she shouted, "Claruscare!"
A bang followed by a bright flash of white light erupted from the tip of her wand. The Mothman drones fell from the sky, clutching their large glowing red compound eyes. They hit the ground with gruesome splats, blood the color of egg yolks painted the ground around their bodies.
The Mothman warriors, meanwhile, were sitting atop the floating platform looking very uninterested in the fact that fifteen members of their drone caste had fallen to their deaths.
One last great beat and Kleo landed amidst the four Mothman warriors. In an instant, one of them no longer had its insectoid head, which had been sliced off and flung from the platform by the force of Kleo's swing. Scooping up the silver sphere, the Girl-Who-Lived jumped down, landing on the ground in a cloud of dust.
"One minute seven seconds!" Dumbledore called out.
The assembled masses of Slytherin house cheered, a few select members waving gigantic banners emblazoned with 'Kleo Potter.'
As I predicted, the three other champions all barely made it through the task alive, Diggory and Krum were the only others besides Kleo to actually get their spheres, likely due to them being talented flyers. Delacour didn't even make it halfway before a trio of Mothmen pulled her off the broom and threw her to the cushioned ground, thus causing the part-veela to fail the task.
"Kleodora Potter is still in the lead with a score one-hundred-thirteen, Viktoria Krum is in second with one-hundred-seven, Cedric Diggory is now in third with ninety-two, and Fleur Delacour is in last with sixty-seven," Dumbledrawers announced, "The third task shall take place on June twenty-fourth, good day, and may the greater good bless you all!"
Still, what an odd person.
/ / / / / / / /
"§Ding dong! The bitch is dead! Which old bitch? The Ministry bitch!§" I sang in front of the Slytherin Common Room fireplace, "§Ding dong! The Ministry bitch is dead!§"
"What's he doing?" Tacita asked, looking up at a very sour-looking Kleo.
In a very sweet display, as soon as Kleo heard Tacita's voice, the irritated look on her face vanished and she looked down at the Malfoy heiress, who lay cuddled against her, "He's singing about how Miss Crouch is dead."
"He's a bit of a jackass isn't he?" Tacita asked, unknowingly using a word she picked up from Kleo, who, in turn, had picked up from me.
"§As Coroner, I thoroughly examined her. And she's not only merely dead. She's really most sincerely dead!§"
Kleo glanced towards me, frowning momentarily, then turned back to Tacita, "I think it's about time we go to Hogsmeade."
Tacita smiled, nodding, "Let's go."
"§Xen, are you coming?§" Kleo asked.
I snorted, "§I am not a third wheel! So, no.§"
"§Of course you aren't,§" Kleo said, rolling her eyes, "C'mon Tass."
Carefully watching them leave, I shifted into my Kraeh N'ghan avatar as the portrait-hole sealed up. Still humming the song I had adapted from an old movie, I faded from the common room, reappearing in Hogsmeade. The air was cold and crisp as I headed towards the candy shop, for my sweet tooth was tingling.
Entering the rather crowded Honeydukes, I popped open my Magick Murder Bag and fished out several large gold galleons. Pushing past a few third years, I slapped the coins down on the counter.
"One bar of your finest chocolate, please!" I said.
The old man at the counter eyed me with suspicion, but complied pulling out a garishly-wrapped bar of chocolate.
"Thank you my man!" I spoke, giving a small bow, "Keep the rest!"
With that, I strode from the store and made my way over to a small bench on the streetside.
I unwrapped the sweet treat and took a bite, the candy phasing through my mask's beak, "Ah, chocolate! The jewel of mesoamerica!"
"You are the Father of Bats, he who takes on a thousand forms," A light dreamy but feminine voice spoke.
Nearly jumping out of my skin, I looked around wildly until my gaze landed upon a blonde-haired girl of about thirteen, "You-what!? How? Don't sneak up on me like that! I could have blasted you to salt, my dear! Wait, why aren't you wearing shoes?"
The girl got down on one knee, the leg of her ugly orange overalls becoming stained with a mixture of melting snow and dirt, "I pledge eternal loyalty to you, my High-Pharaoh. For our Dominion. For our High-Pharaoh. For our Omniverse," She said, putting a fist to her chest.
I stared at her in complete and utter amazement, "What's your name?"
"Luna Lovegood, your highness," The girl, Luna, responded.
Shaking my head, I patted the spot next to me, "Come, sit."
Luna nodded, getting to her feet and sitting down beside me.
I broke the chocolate bar in half, "Here."
"Thank you," Luna spoke, taking a bite of the chocolate.
I glanced over at her, "Now, how do you know so much about me and my Dominion?"
Luna started off into space, though she seemed to be focusing on something that I couldn't see, "Xold'zho told me."
"Xold'zho?" I asked, finishing the rest of my piece of chocolate.
"He's the only good Nargle," Luna replied, matter-of-factly, "He helps me, talks to me, all the others do is screech about committing genocide against the third dimension."
"Ah," I said, then snapped around to look at her, "Wait, committing genocide against the third dimension?"
Luna nodded.
"What do these, nargles, look like?" I questioned.
"Sort of flabby and tentacly," Luna responded, squinting in concentration, "And translucent, like jellyfish."
I stared at her, "Can-uh can I examine your brain?"
Surprisingly, she nodded, "Sure, just heal me afterwards, Daddy will be upset if I no longer have the top of my head."
"Oh no!" I said, "I just need to hold your head, like this."
I reached out, grasped the sides of her head, and looked. Huh, that was odd, Luna's pineal gland was greatly enlarged, wait, I had seen this before.
"Miss Lovegood, have you ever been exposed to a Resonator?" I questioned, releasing my hold on her head.
"No," Luna responded, "But Mummy used to experiment with ancient divination magics."
"Ah," I said, "That'll do it. But anyway back to a previous question, why aren't you wearing shoes? Frostbite is a nasty affliction, ya don't wanna get it, wait, or do you?"
"The other Nargles steal things from me," Luna responded, sadness beginning to color her tone.
"Hm," I spoke, flicking my wrist, causing a pair of bright red fur-lined boots to pop into existence around her feet.
The girl's face lit up with a giant smile, "Thank you."
I stood up, casually discarding the chocolate bar's wrapper, "Well, Miss Lovegood, please let me know if any more of your belongings are stolen, it was nice meeting you."
With that, I disappeared.
/ / / / / / / /
Fina-fucking-lly! It was here! Here! Here! Here-fucking-here!
"§Now, Kleo,§" I said, strapping a green and silver-trimmed cuirass onto the Girl-Who-Lived's chest, "§Make sure to win!§"
Kleo frowned, "§Why do you sound so excited? And of course I'm gonna make sure to win.§"
"§Good!§" I spoke, strapping the final bit of armor onto Kleo's leg, "§Now let me up, I'm coming with.§"
The red-head groaned, "§Just stay hidden, I got docked points for having you with me during the second task.§"
"§Yeah, I shouldn't have slithered away as soon as you got outta the cave,§" I spoke, wrapping myself around her waist.
"Welcome, one and all to the fourth and final task of the triwizard tournament!" Dumbledrawers announced, "As you all can see, the Hogwarts quidditch pitch has been turned into a giant maze! Within this maze are all manner of magical creatures! Sphinxes, Skrewts-!"
"Get on with it!" I shouted, making my voice sound as if it were coming from the stands.
"Ahem, er, yes," Dumbledore coughed, "Our champions are tasked with reaching the triwizard cup, which lay in the center of the maze. And if any of them wishes to withdraw from the tournament, sending up red sparks shall do it. Now then, the task starts in three, two, one, go!"
The four champions rushed into the maze.
An hour later, with Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktoria Krum left stunned and all bleeding in some way behind her, Kleo wrapped her hand around the triwizard cup's handle.
She landed with a thud in the Little Hangleton graveyard. She had very little time to do anything but breathe before Pettegrew crawled out of the woodwork and tied her to the Riddle tomb.
Fetus-mort plopped into the cauldron with a rather unbecoming sound. Flicking his wand, Tom Riddle Senior's arm bone floated out of the tomb.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Rat-boy said, dropping the freshly-pilfered bone into the roiling cauldron.
Boring, boring, boring! Why the hell did this ritual have to drag on so long!
Pettegrew pulled out a large curved ritual knife and cut off his hand, "Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master!"
Get on with it you rat fuck!
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!" Pettegrew recited, slicing open Kleo's arm and flicking the knife, causing several drops of blood to fly into the cauldron.
The water? Potion? Whatever in the cauldron began frothing and bubbling with great vigor and in an instant, a flood of horrid black smoke came pouring out. Seconds later, from the smoke stepped the thin corpse-pale red-eyed form of Voldemort.
"Robe me, Wormtail," Said Tommy-boy.
"Allow me," I spoke, slithering through the ropes and casually tossing a stunning spell behind me.
With a mere thought, I shifted into my Dark Pharaoh avatar while simultaneously conjuring a set of deep black velvet robes, "You, Mister Riddle have caused my family a lot of trouble over the years, with all those horcruxes and whatnot." I said, pulling the robes over Voldemort's head before one-handedly grabbing a fistfull of them and raising the Dark Lord up to eye level.
At the moment, Voldemort looked absolutely petrified, probably due to the mage-sight ability I knew he possessed. Hearing a small shriek of pain, I glanced down at Pettegrew, who had one less knife blade and also one less finger. Casually dropping the Dark Lord, I reached over and grabbed Pete by his balding head.
Pettegrew's movements started to cease as soon as I touched him, a minute later, his skin had taken on a stony quality and he had stilled completely, frozen mid shriek. The now-stone animagus dropped to the ground and shattered into hundreds of pieces, "That, was the attention-getter." I said, turning away from the pile of stone fragments.
"Who are you?" Voldemort gritted out, trying to sound unafraid, even though the terror in his eyes said otherwise.
I conjured an Imperium Jupiter No. 5, "Me? Well, I'm Nyarlathotep, Outer God and High-Pharaoh of the most powerful empire the omniverse will ever see. But that doesn't matter, because I want to talk to you about immortality."
Voldemort didn't answer.
"Horcruxes, what you made, are absolutely the worst way to attain immortality," I spoke, puffing on my cigar, "Lemme list off the downsides of this crappy piece of magic, insanity, wraithism, loss of soul integrity, Specter attraction, all of those and more happen to people who create horcruxes. I'm here to help you fix this awful decision, now, when did you first decide to make horcruxes?"
I cast a small truth spell on the Dark Lord, just to make sure he'd tell me.
"I read Secrets of the Darkest Art," Voldemort spat out, struggling to say every word.
"And?" I asked.
"That's it."
In an instant, any trace of any emotion besides pure rage dissipated, "What did you say?"
"I only read one book?" Voldemort spoke, looking very confused.
The graveyard's air became cold. Gravestones warped and bent like melting plastic. Tom Riddle Senior's tomb began to sag, looking as if it were made of soggy cardboard. Plants for miles around died, trees turned brittle, their branches simply cracking off, flowers withered, grass became yellow.
An oily black fluid began dripping from the edges and eye holes of my mask, it sizzled grotesquely when hitting the ground. My fingers grew long and whip-like. Soon I had shifted into a more, primal, form, a gigantic mass of hideous flesh covered in thousands of slitted eyes that gleamed sickly yellow, bladed tentacles, scorpion-esque legs, hundreds of dripping mouths filled with wicked scythe-like teeth, and leathery wings that flapped uselessly as if they had minds of their own.
"You dumb sack Mi-Go excrement!" I thundered, my many mouths baring their scythe blade-like teeth, "Have you any idea what a soul is?! Hmm?! Well, it's you, dumbass! A soul is you and everyone it's ever inhabited! And by cutting it up all willy-nilly, you'll create a big fat mess in Lymbo when your Horcruxes inevitably fail due the stresses of keeping you bound to reality!"
"There are certain rules to how creation works, you either die or ya don't die, and if you choose the latter, don't go about it by creating a huge mess for the higher ups!" I growled, slamming several of my tentacles against the ground, causing the entire graveyard to shake, "That is it! I am going to help you fix this stupid fucking mess you've created, even if it ends up destroying this universe!"
Voldemort went a bit green.
/ / / / / / / /
"Okay, there we go," I said, placing the last horcrux within a ritual circle.
"So you are the ruler of the most powerful empire ever?" Kleo repeated, obviously in shellshock, she also was sitting in the aforementioned ritual circle.
"Silence girl!" A pouting Voldemort spat.
I smacked him across the face, "Silence yourself, numbskull. Now take this knife and cut out your left eye."
Voldemort frowned, "Why?!"
"It's a ritual, grapehead," I spoke, "Your toady cut off his hand for one. Is it so hard to understand?"
The Dark Lord scowled at me, but took up the knife, gritted his teeth and proceeded to cut out his left eye.
"Good!" I said, chuckling lightly, "Now we'll really begin the ritual."
"You-!" Voldemort started.
"Oh great and powerful Lord Azathoth, bless us with your presence on this cold night! For this wizard has need of your power, he, in his idiocy, has created seven soul anchors!" I spoke, "Please, Lord Azathoth knit together this stupid, stupid man's soul! Lest he cause Lymbo to collapse in on itself once again!"
"Again?" Kleo asked, "What?"
She didn't get any farther, as a portal opened up in the room's ceiling and one of Father's tentacles reached out, touching each of the founder's objects and Kleo's forehead before stabbing into Voldemort's chest. The Dark Lord screamed in horrible pain as his soul became whole once more.
"Alright!" I said, shifting into my Xenophon form, "Kleo let's get back to Hogwarts!"
With that, Kleo and I faded from existence, leaving Voldemort collapsed and shaking in pain.
/ / / / / / / /
"There's still a fifty-five mile an hour speed limit in this universe?" I asked, staring into the skeletal face of Hermione, who was on the other end of my conjured Interocitor.
"Yeah, at least that's what the Specter's spies are saying," Hermione replied, looking harried, "But Ny, that isn't important, in the years since you left a group of pirates calling themselves Nyr Jomsvikings are really becoming a pain in my ass! They keep stealing newly-built Sleipnir-class Longships from our Autofacs using stolen access codes! I don't know how you do it! Ruling an empire this big is really difficult!"
"Well, at least there aren't any rebellions," I said.
Hermione looked to the side guiltily.
"There aren't any rebellions, right?" I prodded.
Hermione mumbled something.
"What was that?" I said.
"Brollach," Hermione mumbled.
I stared at her for a very long minute, "Shah Brollach is rebelling?"
"No! No!" The Padishahau responded, "There's a rebellion kinda getting out of control in Koggros, it's basically a bunch of junkies, pissed off aliens, and New Hunnic descendants that have managed to become a huge thorn in Brollach's side."
"Ah," I said, "So what the hell are you doing about this, Lady Regent."
Hermione rubbed her forehead, "Brollach along with Shahbanu Viraedra have instituted Orders of Conscription to deal with it, I've been keeping up-to-date but we're having a bit of trouble with 6A."
"How are you having trouble? From what you've told me all it consists of is one planet inhabited by anthropomorphic animals."
"The anthropomorphic horses have magic! But that's not the point, how am I supposed to deal with this crap!" Hermione groaned.
"Assassinate the leaders!" I responded, "Take several legions away from 6A, destroy this rebellion utterly! As for the magick horses, you're gonna have to deal with that, after all you are my ex-apprentice who knows nearly everything I know about magick, so simply crush them beneath your heel."
"Thank you," Hermione said, heaving a great sigh.
"Now, do you know if there are still Cannonball Runs being put on?" I asked.
Please Stay Tuned For the Next Action Chapter of A Snake Called Nyarlathotep!