Witch Way (part 3) or...
Another idea that just kind of writes itself when I'm otherwise stressed out.
* Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry *
"Potter!"
"Malfoy!"
"Out of my way, Greengrass, I have business with Potter."
"Unless you're talking an actual business deal, then no - you don't. I'm Harry Potter's designated Rival, not you."
"You can't just up and decide such things!"
"No, there was a vote," declared Daphne Greengrass, brandishing a scroll that she pulled from one of her robe's sleeves."You got six votes. SIX! Whereas I received 251 votes for being the nominated School Rival."
"She's the designated Rival, placed fourth in the Romantic Lead - which is very respectable considering the competition," spoke up Ernie MacMillan from further down the table.
"Those titles mean absolutely nothing," protested Draco Malfoy. "There's no such thing!"
"Technically, I could make a case for coming in third place," noted Daphne, buffing her nails against her robe and checking them, managing to convey how little she cared for Draco's opinion. "After all, there was a tie for third and one of them is not interested while the other is only interested if she can schedule in some makeout sessions - which Harry himself was quite vocal in protest thereof."
"If you're number one, I'm sure I'm number two," said Draco, pulling himself up. "Not that some opinion poll matters. When my-"
Almost the entire Slytherin table, part of the Hufflepuff, and a fair number of Gryffindors chorused. "-father hears about this!"
"Draco, take solace in that you were in ninth place," said Daphne, raising an eyebrow and looking quite haughty about it. "You did, at least, beat out Luna Lovegood and Ron Weasley."
"We were number eight!" called out one of the Weasley Twins.
"The Prank War would have been glorious," said the other Weasley Twin.
"I can't be the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend if I never make it to Potential Romantic Lead," complained Luna Lovegood.
"You're all daft," said Draco, opening his mouth to say something else.
"My father will hear about this!" said a good portion of the Great Hall.
"Draco," came Professor Snape's acerbic tones into the following silence. "Some battles are best lost."
"Watch and learn," said Daphne, turning abruptly, her body language turning from this-all-bores-me to near-predatory as she advanced towards Harry Potter.
"Did you want something, Miss Greengrass?" asked Harry as she managed to loom over his sitting form.
She sniffed, turning her nose away. "Mis-ter Pah-Ter. You have been quite remiss in your obligations to your familial line!"
"I have?" asked Harry.
"The line of Potter, with its ties to the ancient Peverell line, is quite distinguished. Yet, you do not even attempt to learn its secrets or manage their affairs, nor do you seek to protect its interest. For shame!"
"I'm a minor," protested Harry.
"Do you honestly think that matters? How foolish!" chided Daphne, her body language and tone radiating scorn.
"She's good at this," said Ernie.
"While you are quite correct in avoiding such things as engagements, you're now in your fourth year!" declared Daphne. "What about your godfather?"
"Uhm, Taylor?" asked Harry.
"Legal proceedings are still going, apparently there's quite the fuss going on," said Taylor slowly, between bites of muffin. Her opinion on the typical English full breakfast was well-known at this point as it WAS her Fifth Year. "Honestly, I'd expect it to have hit the Prophet by now but not a word."
"So what's my godfather have to do with any of this?" asked Harry.
"He's going to be your legal authority once his case clears, and then you won't have to go back to the Dursleys," said Taylor, finishing the muffin. "Oi. House-elves. Good job on that. Cranberry muffins pair well with morning tea. Just remember to throw variety in. Blueberry would be nice too."
"Thankee Missy Taylor," came a squeaking voice from nearby.
"What was that?" asked Hermione.
"House elf," answered Taylor. "I pay them back with recipes and feedback on the meals so they can improve. Honing their skills is very important to them."
"Is that how they do it Stateside?" asked Fred Weasley.
"Don't know. My family doesn't talk to me much," said Taylor. "Now, if you will all excuse me. I have a job off-site this morning."
* Department of Mysteries *
"Ah, good morning, Mister Riddle."
"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"
"Not going to be cooperative again? Tsk-tsk."
"I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU SLOWLY! YOU WILL BEG FOR DEATH LONG BEFORE I AM THROUGH!"
"And actually, no, you are not 'Lord Voldemort' as you are apparently 1/7th of the Dark Lord formerly known as Lord Voldemort. I have taken the liberty of changing your nomenclature to 'Experimental Subject 616'. Doesn't roll off the tongue I'm afraid."
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
"You're getting repetitive, Tom."
"I WILL KILL ALL OF YOUR FAMILY!"
"Actually you already did that on your first bid for power. One of the reasons I enjoy our little chats more than I should, I suspect."
"I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU HOLD DEAR UNLESS YOU RELEASE ME NOW!"
"Saying you are going to kill me hardly compels me to let you loose. Just so you know."
"I WILL TORTURE YOUR PETS, YOUR FRIENDS, AND BURN YOUR- MFFF?!"
"Tom, Tom, Tom. That little homonculus body of yours has already revealed all the secrets we intended to get. And now you threaten my dog? Seriously? Ah, here we are. Miss Hebert. Did he agree?"
"Here's the paperwork, stating that I'm to act as Mister Potter's proxy in this matter. To treat me as if I were his hand in all such matters."
"Excellent," said the man pushing the ensorcelled baby-crib.
"I'm not used to seeing Unspeakables wearing party hats and with noise-makers," said Taylor.
"Oh, we wanted Mister Riddle here to be sent off in appropriate style," said the Unspeakable who'd been speaking so far. "So that his last sight of this life would be us celebrating his grand shuffle and wishing him a grand bon voyage."
"YOU CANNOT KILL ME, I AM IMMORTAL! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"
"Shall I?" asked Taylor, who on receiving a nod shoved the crib onto the little ramp where it rolled through a weird archway.
The sounds of celebration dimmed a bit. "Did it work or do we need to try something else?"
Taylor looked through the Veil of Death and saw the last image of the baby crib, the deformed baby reaching through the bars towards the Veil from the other side as it slowly vanished into the mists of the other side. "Gone."
"No traces of Voldemort remain at this end," said one of the other Unspeakables.
"So that means it counts if someone is specified working on Harry's behalf," said one of the other Unspeakables. "Either that or he just has to do the last piece."
"Prophecy?" asked Taylor.
"Fraid we can't say anything about that, lass," said another Unspeakable. "Even if ye've worked out some of it, can't discuss it outside of our own circles."
"We'll be in touch," said another, handing her a portkey.
Before she took it, she held out her other hand. "Photo?"
"Not for general distribution," said that Unspeakable, handing over a copy of a photograph.
"Just for Harry, I think it'll bring a warm comfort to him," said Taylor accepting both.
* PRT ENE HQ *
The elevator ride to Piggot's office was taking its own sweet time. Sophia was ready though. She'd claim that any confession was under duress and...
The lights flickered, going black. When they came on, she was alone in the elevator.
"What the hell?" asked Sophia, looking around. There was the reflection of the dead Taylor there, but that was it.
"Yeah?" asked Sophia, trying to keep calm and cool and in-control. "What do you think you can do?"
The reflection stepped forward into the elevator, the mouth opened a good eleven inches, and a fire hose stream of flying and biting insects poured out.
Sophia turned to shadow but they were already on her, burrowing, trying to get in her eyes and mouth and inside her...
The lights flickered again and her PRT escort was with her again.
Sophia spat up some kind of beetle, which fell to the floor and was casually stomped by a trooper.
Sophia Hess looked at the reflection, seeing behind her Dead Taylor - who merely raised a rotting finger to hold in front of exposed teeth.
Yup, full confession. Confession is good. Because if Dead Taylor could reach her here - she could reach her anywhere.
* Hogwarts *
"Sorry, time got away from me, it's been how long now?" asked Albus Dumbledore.
"Five months," said Taylor. "If you're talking about Babymort's trip through the Veil."
"I see, and your studies?" asked Albus.
"Schoolwork's fine going into my Sixth. I'm doing pretty good with Charms and Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and Arithromancy. I dropped Divination, but I think everyone foresaw that happening."
"Indeed, it is an inexact Art and you do tend to focus on what can be relied on," admitted Dumbledore. "Professor Trelawney had something to say about that."
"Yes, and if she was right, and I have to 'stop the Golden Man' to 'end the bringers of the end' then I've got my work cut out for me."
Dumbledore peered over his glasses at her. "Yes. That. Are you sure you don't wish to speak of what you think she meant?"
"I'm sure. You wouldn't be able to do anything anyway," said Taylor.
"I am not usually dismissed so quickly," said Dumbledore.
"There are matters which you can help with, and in those I will certainly speak with you about," said Taylor. "Such as the Witches' Circle and the Self-Defense Club. My family concerns though - well. I think they're beyond what a single wizard can help with."
"Of that, your little study club, have you found anything else of use?" asked Dumbledore.
"Ah, on that," said Taylor, feeling around in her robe sleeve for the little pockets the Self-Defense Club had incorporated into their robes. She withdrew a box, enlarged it from thumbnail-size to shoebox-size with a tap of her wand. "May The Force Be With Us."
"The 'force'?" asked Dumbledore.
"Password lock I undid just now," said Taylor. "Doubtful any pureblood would know that one."
The box opened and Taylor pulled out a small book and a curved knife, finally a bell and candle.
"This is?" asked Dumbledore.
"This is an athame, you're probably familiar with it. Used in some rituals - especially those of Greek or Roman tradition. A few Roma Gypsy ones too. This particular one is consecrated to Hecate. The bell is silver, the book one on rituals dealing with purifying magic, and the candle is from a weatherwax tree. Together they can be used to purify a subject of evil influences."
"Ah, like what happened to poor Quirinus in your second year," said Dumbledore.
"I mean Harry's scar," said Taylor.
"What about his scar?" asked Dumbledore.
"Did you know that the Japanese school can detect if their student does Dark Magic? Their uniforms will change color to reflect it if they've willingly used Dark Magic," said Taylor.
"Yes, I knew of that," admitted Dumbledore.
"So they have a way of finding out about it if someone's gone Dark," said Taylor, holding up a pair of clip-on sunglasses. "I've been in correspondence with them since First Year, due to... problems at home."
"There are a number of families with problems of that nature," admitted Dumbledore.
"I built these by adapting some of their anti-Dark detection spells. These are something I worked out for my Runes project this year, spots active Dark Magic and makes it easier to spot. Harry's scar keeps flaring. Most of the time it's quiet and just a glimmer. Sometimes it's not and it's when he looks to be having a headache. He doesn't talk about it much - I understand that's not uncommon for children that have come from an abusive environment - they conceal. Hopefully, with Sirius taking over godfather duties that'll change some."
"May I see?" asked Dumbledore, holding out a hand. He fumbled with the clips as he put it over his glasses and then looked around the room. "My word."
Taylor watched as he went to a corner and pulled a book out of the space between a bookcase and the wall.
"So that's where you snuck off to," said Dumbledore, taking the book and placing it into a chest and then locking it. "Very handy. I suspect this could come in quite useful. Your own work?"
"Yes, Headmaster," admitted Taylor. "Based on and adapted from the notes Miyazaki-sensei sent me. Still need to do some work on it, but this is at least a 'proof of concept' - it's based on existing work from the Japanese school system. Just more focused and giving instant results."
"You might show Professor Flitwick, I suspect he'd be rather intrigued by it as well," said Dumbledore, handing the glasses back.
* PRT ENE HQ Director's Office *
"-and there was the fifth of last month where I went on an unauthorized patrol and I hit that E88 thug when he was stealing hubcaps along 34th Street."
Dragon's voice piped up. "Hanover Fiske - petty theft. Triggered when he was bleeding out and believed he would die. Adrenally-based Changer 2 with increased strength and toughness granting him a Brute 4 rating. Showed up last week in Houston calling himself Enforcer."
"Huh. Didn't know that," admitted Sophia. "Ah, where was I?"
"The fifth of last month," prompted Armsmaster.
"Oh right, that was a busy night for a solo hunt," said Sophia. "One hubcap theft, and really who the hell steals HUBCAPS? One vehicular B&E on Beckett Circle, and I nearly got that Grue in the back with a hunting bolt. Got him in the leg instead. Not nearly as satisfying."
"The villain Grue with the undersiders? Was he committing a crime?" asked Miss Militia.
"Yeah, he was eating one of those street vendor hotdogs. Crime against nature, those things," said Sophia. "Still three crippling shots in four hours. That's gotta be a record, right?"
* Hogwarts *p
The Alaspinian Minidrag landed with a quiet-sort-of plop and folded its wings in order to look interested at the rogue before it.
Those who knew what it was gave it a wide berth. Much fewer knew WHO it was, and those also gave it a wide berth - and were mostly amused at what the knowledge of the beast did to wizards and witches.
"Potter has gotten too powerful," said Draco. "We must protect our way of life from mudblood lovers like him!"
"Why are you calling him a mudblood lover?" asked Blaise Zabini.
"Because he's associated with that mudblood Granger!" declared Draco.
"Who is descended from her great-grandparents who sired a squib and that squib had a son who is her father," said Blaise.
"What?" asked Draco.
"So she's the Heir of the House of Granger," said Blaise.
"What?" repeated Draco.
"Honestly, she's not nearly so annoying as she used to be," offered Donald Amberdon, sprawled across his own chair in the Slytherin common room. "Shows promise. Could end up hot when she gets a bit older."
"What?" repeated Draco.
"Smart girls can be hot," admitted Blaise. "Bit scary at times, but if you can aim that at your enemies - just ups the appeal."
"B-but she's a mudblood," said Draco.
"No, you want scary - there's that Hebert gal," said Donald. "She's in my year. Smart. Ruthless. Sometimes she looks at you and it's like she's figuring out exactly what sounds you'd make when you're dying. AND what size coffin."
"Whose snake is that anyway?" asked Draco, feeling as if it were laughing at him.
"It delivers messages to Greengrass," said Blaise. "See the envelope tied about two-thirds down?"
"Oh? I wonder what it..." Draco started towards it, only to be suddenly tackled by two of the older students.
"Idiot," a Seventh-Year said. "THAT is a rare magical snake that spits a poison so vile Professor Snape actually smiled when he tested a sample. Don't provoke it, and everything's right charming. Provoke it and you'll get a warning. Disregard that warning and Snape'll have to tell your father that you died being an idiot."
"What is something THAT dangerous doing in a school?!" exclaimed Draco.
"Mate, where you been the past five years?" asked Donald. "Hogwarts is mostly safe most of the time. It's absolutely mad the rest of the time."
"Sometimes it's dangerous but also kind of funny," added Blaise. "Great Coleslaw Explosion, Snack Attack, that bit in February."
The minidrag hissed.
"We do not mention what happened when Alvis decided it would be funny to dose Taylor Hebert with a love potion. I think they had to Obliviate Hebert to calm her down and avoid half the school burning," declared Donald. "She was yelling about 'Masters' and 'Endbringers' and she cast THAT spell."
Daphne Greengrass entered the room with poise and grace and sarcasm. About the usual. "No, she was merely restrained until enough calming potions went into her to reduce her from 'Hell runs in fear from her' to 'teeth-gritting rage' and she spent about a week to calm the rest of the way down."
"What did she do?" asked Draco.
"She hit Alvis with a switching spell variant that swapped his genitals with his mouth," said Donald. "It took Saint Mungo's four days to fix it."
"Oh," said Draco. "I don't see Alvis around."
"He's in Durmstrang now," said Donald. "Family felt he would be safer fighting hydras than pissing off a member of the Hebert family. Especially considering who her father was."
"Who's her father?" asked Draco. She was just some bint from the States, right?
Daphne chuckled as she took the message from the flying snake. "You don't want to know, Malfoy. You'll sleep better."
"The Hebert family originated in Greece, Draco. The line of Medea," said Donald. "You know my family. The Amberdon family has prided itself on geneological knowledge across continents. Her father though - we only know by his titles and it took a fair amount of digging. Once we found out, we apologized and covered all our tracks back out."
"Titles? Like a Lordship or something?" asked Draco.
"∂³Σx²." Donald shook his head. "The name of Hebert is bad enough. That's the family that handled the wizarding side for the Medici. The Old Families of Sicily still have ties to the Heberts."
"So what?" asked Draco.
"Draco Malfoy," intoned a familiar voice. "Must I remind you again that Slytherin is the House of the Cunning?" Snape came out of the doorway. "Greengrass, please send your messenger off. She should not be here in any case."
Draco blinked as the snake hissed back at Snape, sounding oddly apologetic.
"Don't mess with old Italian families, Mister Malfoy. It rarely turns out well for anyone except themselves," said Snape as he watched the snake disappear into the ceiling. "Need to replace the grate there. Hmph."
"Well, what about that other name?" asked Draco. "The weird one."
"What weird name?" asked Severus Snape.
"∂³Σx²," supplied Donald.
"A myth, a legend, a phantom of time. If one encounters that one, and such an individual actually existed, there is a single word to describe encounters of that sort," said Professor Snape.
"What word is that?" asked a puzzled Draco.
"That word is 'run'," said Professor Snape, twirling and returning for his office. Gullible little students. What WAS the Wizarding World coming to?
* PRT ENE HQ *
"-which is when I shoved her into her locker, locked the door, and left her," said Sophia. "I didn't intend to kill her."
"I see," said Director Piggot. "We shall see if psychological counseling is available, and you and your family will be transferred out to another city. Pending that evaluation, criminal charges are very likely."
"Fine, just... no mirrors," said Sophia.
"We'll see what we can do," said Director Piggot.
"And I'll be far far away from her? I mean, here?" asked Sophia.
"THAT part I can guarantee," said Director Piggot.
"Can I go to my cell now?" asked Sophia.
"Yes, we have a nice safe cell for you," said Miss Militia. "This way."
The door closed behind them and Director Piggot glanced at Armsmaster.
"Everything she said was the truth," said Armsmaster. "The lie detector isn't finished yet, but what I did have running indicated complete truth."
"I could practically smell the fear on her," said Director Piggot. "Better put her on Master/Stranger confinement measures as well."
"It seems likely that someone else triggered and produced the Shaker or Master effect with the hallucinations since Miss Hebert is not showing any sign of producing a parahuman effect, lacks a Corona Pollentia, and is quite unconscious. Just a moment." Armsmaster cocked his head, muttered a few things, then simply said "Interesting."
"New development?" asked Director Piggot.
"We may have found the Shaker/Master," said Armsmaster. "Emma Barnes collapsed and is showing signs of Rapid Eye Movement and muscular twitches."
"This gets more problematic every moment," said Director Piggot. "Assign her the temporary codename of Nightmare. Group-effect Master. Tentatively Master-4 as she can affect a large group but lacks control over their reactions."
"That lack of control was one reason I was going with 'Shaker' instead of 'Master'," pointed out Armsmaster.
"She was able to get Shadow Stalker to confess to everything, has a good portion of the students at Winslow afraid to return there, and it's a temporary rating anyway," said the Director. "Check for a Corona Pollentia, if you find one - then we'll proceed further."
* Hogwarts *
"So, Harry's turning fifteen, what do you plan on getting him?" asked Daphne.
"Hmmm. So he's got two years left before he graduates..." Taylor considered things. "Maybe some of those ninja smoke-bombs. They seem like he'd find them useful."
"What do they do?" asked Daphne Greengrass.
"You throw one down on the ground and they release a column of smoke, but it's a breathable smoke. Useful for getting away." Taylor thought they sounded a lot more useful to Harry than herself. Though throwing them down and then turning into her animagus form of a Minidrag would allow her some combat options.
"Considering his close call with Luna Lovegood on Monday, that might be a good gift," admitted Daphne.
"What happened, I hesitate to ask."
"She tried to claim his lips for her 'first kiss', yodeling while swinging from a vine," said Daphne. "Harry dodged. She crashed into Ginny Weasley instead. She apparently didn't care and started kissing Ginny instead. Apparently Ginny was mainly confused."
"I could see that being the case," said Taylor.