Phenomenal Cosmic Power (Harry Potter/Multicross SI) Crossover
By: Pakeha
Phenomenal Cosmic Power.
Just kicking this out here to see how you lot find it.
(A Harry Potter and eventual Multicross SI)
Status: ongoing
Published: 2022-02-18
Updated: 2022-05-14
Words: 88602
Chapters: 59
Original source: https/forums./threads/100678
Exported with the assistance of
Phenomenal Cosmic Power (Harry Potter/Multicross SI) Crossover
Introduction
Phenomenal Cosmic Power
A rather stressful sorting
Magical monotony.
The room of convenience
Elves, friends, and frag bombs.
A typical Christmas dinner.
The calm before exams.
Stress, tests, and a Vampire encounter.
The train ride home
Dumbledore's thoughts
The fairy ring
And thus canon began...
Dealing with elves
Hermione Granger
The day after Halloween
The terrible twins.
Trying for the Stone
Heading home for the holidays.
The Mirror of Erised
Albus's thoughts.
Quirinus Quirrell
Resolutions
The headmaster's message
Preparing the Plan
Lee, Luna and Lockhart
Wandless magic and miraculous herbs.
Hogsmead
The Plan
Aftermath
A meeting with the Headmaster.
Hometime
A (not so) grim day
Wands and windfall.
Siriusly?
The headmaster's summons.
Trocar's warning.
The dream.
Albus's contemplations
Rita Skeeter
A lesson in battle magic
The animagus ritual
Theriac
Finishing fourth year.
Meeting up for the Quidditch Cup
Taking umbrage to Umbridge
History of Magic
Good news, Enchanting and Mad-Eye Moody
Christmas duelling
Revelations
Ambush
Werewolves, vampires and a wild hunt
St Mungo's
Passing the time at Grimmauld Place
Sleepless night
A glorious death.
The ROB's motivation
A whole new world
Skiritae and Emperors
Men in black
Phenomenal Cosmic Power
I woke, seated in a comfy wicker chair, on a porch overlooking rolling green hills.
It was peaceful, with the distant chirping of cicadas and an ancient grapevine providing dappled shade from the cloudless sky.
Idilly, I wondered what the hell was going on.
One moment, I'd been in bed, scrolling through another fanfic and putting off sleep, and now…
"Where the hell am I?"
"Argentina, around 2105."
The speaker was a man sitting in another wicker chair, directly beneath the vine and silhouetted against the green hills beyond. He looked so normal, in jeans and a poet shirt with a trimmed beard and a cat on his lap, yet he hadn't been there before.
"Don't worry too much about my appearing act," the man said, absentmindedly petting his cat. "As for what's going on, well, have you heard of a ROB?"
I froze. Oh Shit!
The man nodded sagely.
"I see you do. That certainly makes things easier."
I stared at the Random Omnipotent Being with growing fear. He looked back with a small smile.
"While I'm not an old hand at this like some of my coworkers, I do feel that the random white void they tend to drag people into is a bit over the top. Ergo, Argentina. It's a bit less freaky."
I nodded, mind racing. Every idea I had, every thought of escape broke down as I came back to the simple fact that I was sitting across from something that had more power than most deities.
"Calm down mate," the ROB said casually. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just hear my deal out, and then decide."
Instantly, the panic drained away.
"Did you just… shut down my emotions?"
The ROB shrugged unapologetically.
Silence reigned, the cicadas sung and the cat purred loudly.
"As I said, I have a deal for you," the ROB finally stated. "Pick three worlds from fiction and I'll insert you into them. All you have to do is last five years in each one, and I'll give you the power to travel the omniverse as a prize. You can even keep the powers and items you pick up along the way."
"So what…" I leaned back, trying to wrap my head around the offer. "You're just giving me all this power?"
"Nope," the ROB said. "You'll have to earn it. You need to survive five years in each world. Remember."
"What's to stop me from choosing an easy world?" I queried. "I could just live in some slice of life anime and…" trailing off, I realised it probably wasn't a good idea to voice such thoughts in front of the Random Omnipotent Being himself. Did he make it so I speak my mind or something?
"Nope, you were just wondering out loud," the ROB said cheerfully. "And, let's just say, the easier the world you choose, the more 'motivation' you'll face to do something. We can't have you ignore that call of adventure now can we?"
"Why are you even doing this?" I asked. "There has to be some catch. What do you even get out of this?"
"My my, you ask a lot of questions," the ROB chuckled. "Good for you."
Gently placing the cat on the deck, he stood up and strode over to the edge of the porch, looking out over the green hills.
"I find people are more willing to take risks if there is a prize to be had," the ROB admitted, glancing back my way. "That's basically what the power is. A carrot. Other ROBs prefer a big stick, but most of the time that just leads to unwilling participants lashing out at the world they are thrown into, which gets boring fast. If you're driven by your own motives, however, there's no knowing how you'll shape the world."
"So, you're offering multiversal travel up on a silver platter as a… carrot?"
"Omniversal, not Multiversal," the ROB objected lightly. "Think of the multiverse as a single cluster of divergent universes, all with the same basic physics. Omniversal travel allows you to access separate multiverses. Ones with separate physics. Ones where magic is a universal force, or where antimatter is more common than matter."
"Okay…" I said, feeling way out of my depth. "So, what do you get from all this?"
"Entertainment," the ROB said, facing me with a wide grin. "And also, I hope to get an ally out of this. If you survive, you get phenomenal cosmic power, and I get someone more likely to help me out in the future, either as an ally, a friend or, even just an enemy of my enemy."
I stared at the ROB. What the fuck could a ROB consider an enemy‽
"And if I say no?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"You're not the first, kid," the ROB said, turning back to face the hills. "Hell, even I was tempted to say no when I got my offer. It's all just so… big. So much to take in."
"What about my family?" I prompted. "Have you just yanked me out of my reality? Am I just gone from that world‽"
The ROB glanced my way with a troubled expression.
"Kid, here's something you need to learn. Every second of every day, your reality branches off into a near unknowable number of alternate versions. In many, you randomly die; from a heart attack, or spontaneous combustion, or micro meteor. Me making you disappear from one reality doesn't matter, and even if you said 'I wanna go back,' there would still be all those identical alternate realities left empty."
I stared at the ROB and he sighed.
"Forget I said that kid," he said. "It's too much too soon. Just think about this: If you want to dip out, then fine. I can slot you back into your boring life like nothing ever happened. But you'll always be left with the question of 'what if?' and trust me when I say that is the sort of thing that eats away at a person. So do you want to accept my generous offer, or should I send you back home?"
The cat jumped onto my lap and settled in. The ROB continued to stare out over those empty hills and I stewed over my answer. Finally, the ROB, taking his seat in the wicker chair opposite to me, gave me a questioning look.
"I accept," I said simply.
"Which three worlds do you choose?" the ROB asked. "Remember, the more boring the world, the more I'll be forced to intervene. Mostly because of other ROBs who want a good show, but still…"
"Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and My Hero Academia," I said, blurting out the first three that came to mind.
The ROB grinned.
"Ballsy one, aren't you. At least those worlds are relatively safe. No major apocalyptic events to keep you from reaching the deadline."
Standing up, the ROB brushed himself off.
"Remember, survive five years. What you do during them is up to you, but don't die. I'll pop around at the end of each cycle to catch up with you, and see how you're doing. Beyond that, you're on your own.
Good luck."
With that, he snapped his fingers and the world faded to black.
Last edited: Feb 17, 2022
A rather stressful sorting
Blinking in bewilderment, I looked around.
A sea of smiling young faces. Banners in green, blue, red, and yellow. A starry sky above, floating candles drifting across it…
Yup, I knew exactly where I was.
A quick glance at the table at the very front of the hall cured me of any doubts about my location. There, sat the unmistakable figures of Dumbledore and Snape, one in teal robes speckled with neon orange runes, the other dour and imposing with oily hair and unnaturally black robes.
How am I so calm about all this? Half an hour ago I was home and now…
Glancing down at myself my stomach sank.
"Fuck!" I hissed, staring at my pudgy child's hands. A quick pat on the cheek and I found my beard gone as well. There wasn't even any peach fuzz!
I looked around, taking in my surroundings a bit more frantically this time. Around me were first years, lined up in front of the wall just before the staff table, and as I watched, a stern-looking woman in emerald robes placed a stool and a tattered hat before us.
I stared at the hat. My calmness, long gone, was replaced by wide-eyed terror.
Of course, the ROB would stick me right in front of the magical mind scanner to be called out in front of everyone in Hogwarts. The de-aging was just adding insult to injury at this point!
Why in Puck's name did I trust that Mordred damned ROB!
The hat began to sing, but I heard only white noise. Stealing another glance at the staff table, I didn't see any turbans or pink toads.
Puck Damn!
Latching my eyes to the floor, I bit back a scream. I couldn't even trust that I was in canon! For all I knew, Dumbledore and Snape were corrupt, incompetent, or overly happy to use legilimens!
Casting my eyes around around did nothing to dissuade my fears.
There were no redheads lined up beside me. No sign of bushy-haired girls or whispers of the Boy-Who-Lived. Just thirty-eight nervous children.
Did the ROB drop me before the start of Canon? After? In a fanfic‽ Could I even trust my meta knowledge‽
A glance at the Gryffindor table and I spotted four redheads. The Weasleys I assumed.
Twins, a kid in glasses, and the oldest with a badge.
Before I could even begin to figure out who I was looking at, the sorting hat finished it's song with some line about unity and McGonagall stepped forward to give the sorting ceremony.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she called. "Archer, Edward!"
I watched wide-eyed as one by one, the kids around me were called forward. What would I do when I was the last one‽
Katie Bell and Cho Chang, at least, gave me some idea that I was before canon, but it was little comfort as more and more people were called towards the hat leaving me more and more alone before the scrutiny of Hogwarts and it's mind-reading headmaster.
"Le Fay, Carnac!"
The sudden jolt of recognition came as a shock. Glancing around, I realised no one else had stepped forward.
What in Puck's name‽
Hesitantly, I took a step forward, then another. Was I Carnac? Had the ROB shoved me in someone else's body.
I should have felt disgusted, but instead, I felt relief. The ROB had given me a way out, a way to blend in, and by Puck I was going to take it, even if it came at the cost of the real Carnac's erasure.
Now… the hat.
Fuck it.
"So you're the one that's causing such ripples," the Sorting Hat said as soon as it touched my head. "Interesting."
I gulped.
"Oh calm down. I'm only here to sort you, not judge you. Although your case is curious… As far as I know, you're the first one who's slipped in from the outside. You've set magic into a bit of a tizzy."
What‽ Magic here is sentient‽
"No matter, no matter," the hat muttered. "It's beside the point anyway. Now, where to put you?"
"Not Slytherin," I muttered. Partly for the irony and partly because a half-breed like me wouldn't last a day there.
Wait! Half-breed‽
"Are you sure? Your ambition is something the house of the snakes would hone. No? Very well. Not Slytherin. Gryffindor? Perhaps. You can put your fear aside when it's needed, although you don't actively seek the challenge. Maybe not Gryffindor."
Darn.
"Hufflepuff? You want to stick to the shadows. Make connections. Maybe. Ravenclaw? Knowledge is power and you certainly plan to demonstrate that philosophy… This is why I don't sort adults. You're all too complex. Too many nuances…"
I was starting to sweat. What was taking this sentient sock puppet so long?
"Slytherin is still an option," the hat said hotly.
No. Nonononono.
"Fine," the hat stated." You decide."
That gave me pause. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?
"Hurry up. We don't have all night."
Hufflepuff.
"Hufflepuff!" the hat called out.
I stumbled to the table of yellow and black and ignored the grins and welcomes, too drained to deal with all this shit.
The feast continued as normal, but I could only manage a few mouthfuls of water and a half-hearted conversation with a few curious Hufflepuffs. I had other things to focus on, like my confusion, inner turmoil, and the bone-numbing terror that accompanied it.
Half-breed‽ What in Puck's name is a half-breed. For that matter, what the fuck is a Puck‽
I vaguely recalled fanfics where the SI was absorbed by the person they were inserted into… was that happening to me‽
Blessedly, Dumbledore was brief in introducing Professor Trocar, this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and after orchestrating the musical cacophony of a school song, we were sent off.
The introduction to the Hufflepuff common room was also over quickly and as soon as my head touched the pillow, I was dead to the world.
Last edited: Feb 14, 2022
Magical monotony.
I spent my first week looking over my shoulder, prepared to defend myself from jinxes and curses in the hallways. A tad paranoid, perhaps, but I couldn't help it.
It turns out, Carnac Le Fay left a few memories after his eviction from this body; worried memories about how the British would treat a Le Fay. A half-breed. Someone descended from the fairies.
I felt the paranoia was appropriate. The ROB may not have been as unsporting as I first thought, but he was apparently in it for the long con. I had enough fragmented memories to cover all my bases, but that came with the caveat of being a descendant of Pouques and Arragouset, while stuck in the same building as the children of Death Eaters.
To make matters worse, I don't remember faeries being mentioned in canon. Another sign that I was stuck in some knockoff fanon world.
Needless to say, I had a very nerve-wracking first week of school.
Sunday the second was spent trailing behind prefects with the other first years as we were shown where our classes were. Interesting, sure, but at the same time, I was unnerved by the normalcy of it. I shouldn't have been this used to talking portraits and moving armour and magic!
Personally, I blamed Carnac and his Puck-damned memories bleeding over into my mind.
That's how the first week went; gyrating between the feeling of normality and shock of realising I'd slipped into it so easily.
The classes didn't help.
On that first Monday, our two lessons were Transfiguration and Herbology. An easy start to our time here according to some of the more talkative upper years, but I still felt anxious.
Professor McGonagall seemed strict, yet fair and she did a good job of exciting us all with her demonstrations of magic, but as soon as she handed out the matchsticks we were meant to change into needles, I ran into roadblocks.
Apparently, Carnac's familiarity with magic couldn't stop me from overthinking the process, and I was stuck staring at the matchstick, contemplating how a wooden match, composed of carbon and phosphorus, could possibly be changed to metal. 'Magic,' sure, but if magic was energy, then wouldn't that just ignite the matchstick? I spent that entire class fruitlessly casting conmutocus and trying to get past the blatant violations of physics.
At least I wasn't the only one to have no success, and at the end of the class, Professor McGonagall stood before us for a final lecture.
"You will learn more about the methods behind incantations and wand movement from Professor Flitwick tomorrow," she said as class wrapped up, "but for Transfiguration to work you must exercise focus. That's what separates this class from the magic you'll learn in charms. Will is essential; you must not think of the spell as a suggestion or even a command, you must have the mindset that your match will transform into a needle. Leave no room for doubt and you will succeed."
Well, that's just great, I thought to myself as we all filed out. She drops that on us right at the end! And none of the textbooks I'd rummaged through even mention the state of mind or emotion behind magic besides a few vague references.
At least I had something to blame for my inability to complete the spell.
After lunch was Herbology, and that was when I decided to swear off gardening. I don't know why, but it seemed like every plant, from the Tartary Lamb bushes to the Devils Snare cuttings seemed to want a piece of me.
"They like you," Professor Sprout mentioned as the tender green fronds of the dog-eating vines in the rafters tugged at my hair for the umpteenth time. "Normally they keep away from people they don't know."
"Great!" I muttered, swatting a probing sprout away before it could explore my ear. "If tearing my robes is a sign of affection, I don't want to see them when they're grumpy."
"I'll get one of your housemates to teach you reparo. Until then, trade places with Brian… I don't think the goose barnacle tree will be able to do as much damage. Also, I'd advise you to keep away from the whomping willow. She's a big fan of tough love."
Our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was one I didn't recognise at all.
Professor Trocar was a gaunt, pale man who shared Snape's sense of fashion, and somehow managed to pull off being both professional and downright creepy. His classroom was in the dungeons, in an old cell with rust marks on the walls from long-gone shackles and he started the class with a cold air of experience.
"Over the course of this year," he told us, stalking back and forth at the front of the room, "I shall be teaching you how to properly defend yourself against the dark arts." He paused, becoming unnaturally still, and stared at each and every one of us before continuing.
"The dark arts is a wide field of magic, and as such, has many definitions, but the most succinct one I've found is this; 'magic cast with intent to harm.' Would someone care to elaborate?"
No one, not even the Ravenclaws that had constantly been asking questions in previous classes, moved.
"A pity. Kate Wilson, please take a stab in the dark at what I mean by 'magic cast with intent to harm.'"
"Um…" Kate was one of the more curious Ravenclaws, but you wouldn't know it if you looked at her now. "Intent to harm… so it's like how if you attempt to murder something it's attempted murder. So if you attempt to harm someone with magic, it's dark magic?"
"An admirable attempt my dear," Trocar said smoothly, "But not quite. Sampson Mars? Would you like to try elaborating?"
Next to me, Sampson stiffened. He was one of my dorm mates and seemed quite smart, although a bit quiet. He looked around before facing Professor Trocar with a pale face.
"Professor McGonagall said that magic needs… emotion and intent," Samson stuttered. "So, dark magic… is it magic that needs dark emotions?"
"Exactly, Mr. Mars," Trocar said, giving him a toothy grin. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Yes, dark magic, the sort I will teach you to both detect and defend against, is magic that requires negative emotions to cast. Greed, anger, hatred, manipulation, and spite can all fuel dark magic. For example, the killing curse requires an adamant desire for the target to die. The Cruciatus curse requires the need for the target to feel pain. Even the Imperius curse requires a sickly desire to control. In magic, the intent is everything, and that is what makes dark magic so dangerous, not only for the victim but also the caster. But I've gone on long enough. Who can tell me what separates dark creatures from most magical beasts?"
The class concluded with homework to research basic jinx-detection spells and a promise that we'd be getting a bit more practical work next lesson.
As we were ushered out into the corridor, I listened to multiple whispered conversations about Trocar. About how he must be a Dementor, or Vampire, or Strigoi, and I could almost believe it. After all, every time he looked out over the class, some primordial part of my brain screamed to run away.
Hopefully, Dumbledore isn't that incompetent.
Charms with Professor Flitwick was fun, and his enthusiasm had everyone in class excited to learn more.
Heck, he managed to make Lumos, the spell that could be replaced by a flashlight, interesting.
"Wands out," he'd said at the beginning of the lesson. "I know you are all dying to use them, but just hold on a moment… That means you, Mr. Davidson… Now, today we'll be going over Lumos."
The reaction was instant. All the muggle-borns were staring with apt attention and whispering excitedly to their neighbours, while the pure-bloods and half-bloods all groaned and rolled their eyes and muttered about learning Lumos when they were five.
"I know, I know," Professor Flitwick said with exuberance. "It's a simple spell, but it's essential we all go over the wand movement and enunciation. Magic has an unfortunate tendency to backfire, as I'm sure you all know from Professor McGonagall, and Lumos is one of the spells that won't wreck tremendous harm if you pronounce it wrong."
Everyone was attentive now. The muggle-borns had stopped whispering and the wizarding children no longer looked bored.
"Now," the professor continued, wordlessly animating a piece of chalk to begin scrawling on the blackboard. "The spell, as I said, is Lumos. Loo-mos. Got that? The wand movement is simple, just do a small loop like so."
As he demonstrated, the tip of his wand began to shine and he held it up for all to see.
"As you can see, a simple spell, but there is something that needs to be covered yet… Does anyone have a clue as to what it may be?"
One of the Slytherin girls raised her hand and Professor Flitwick gestured at them excitedly.
"Go on Miss Maeve. Tell us what it is!"
"You still have to tell us how to turn it off Professor," Maeve said softly.
"Yes! Quite right! Well done Miss Maeve, and take five points for Slytherin. Now, one must never cast a spell without knowing how to end it! If there is one thing that you take away from this lesson, it is that! To end Lumos, the charm is Nox, and the wand movement is a tiny wave shape."
The light vanished and Professor Flitwick grinned at us.
"Now… it's your turn to give it a go!"
Staring at my wand, I tried to concentrate. This would be my first spell. My first bit of magic…
"Lumos."
Grinning, I held up my wand, staring at the soft halo of light. Experimentally, I poked the tip of my wand, expecting it to feel warm, but there wasn't any heat. It did seem to be emitting a slight humming sound, though.
Weird.
I concentrated on the spell, imagining that magic was being pushed into my wand and the spell grew brighter, the humming louder.
Very cool. And now…
"Nox."
The light flickered out.
Regrettably, Charms was the last truly enjoyable class for the week.
The boredom of Binn's history, the terror of Hooch's flying lessons, and the exhaustion of Astronomy all wore me down, and I could tell it was starting to get to some of my classmates. By Friday, all I wanted to do was sleep.
Unfortunately, Friday was the day we had potions.
Potions was the class I'd been dreading all week. The way Snape was described in the books was horrible and the fact that he was a mind reader extraordinaire just made the whole thing even more nerve-wracking.
I sat as far back in the class as I could, and even if that put me up against the supply closet and hoped to Merlin that Snape didn't notice me.
After the roll call had concluded, Snape turned to us with barely veiled contempt.
"You are here to learn the subtle art of potion-making," he stated in a cold, clear voice. "As there is little wand waving to hold your attention here, many of you may not believe this is magic."
He paused. A true drama king, although I'm pretty sure he said that exact same thing in Harry's first year as well.
"I don't expect you to understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron," he said, with quiet passion. "The hidden power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitch the body and ensnare the mind… I can teach you how to brew fortune, bottle dreams, and even stopper death."
His speech finished in a whisper. The class was completely silent.
"We will start off with seeing who bothered to open their textbooks," he stated after a quiet moment. "Who can tell me what flower is used in both the soothing and rage potion?"
Several Ravenclaw students raised their hands, but Snape ignored them entirely.
"Davidson!" he stated. "What is the answer?"
Jeremy Davidson was a roommate from Hufflepuff. He hadn't raised his hand.
"I…. I don't know sir," Davidson stammered.
"Do I look like a sir to you, Davidson?" Snape sneered.
"No Professor," Davidson said softly. He looked like he was going to cry.
Snape slowly turned away, scrutinising the rest of us.
"Even an idiot should know that dried petunia petals are essential in those two potions. Let us try again. Le Fay. What is the main ingredient of the befuddlement potion?"
I jolted. He was going after the people who weren't raising their hands.
Shit!
Before I could say 'I don't know' out of instinct, I felt the now-familiar fuzzy sensation of one of Carnac's memories bleeding through.
"Jimsonweed? Professor," I half asked, half stated.
Snape watched me closely.
"Since you seem so unsure, I'll ask another question," he said with cruel delight. "What might one use a bezoar for?"
Easy.
"Poison, Professor. It can be used as a remedy for poison."
Snape stared at me for a good ten seconds, giving me plenty of time to doubt my answer. Then he gave me a thin smile.
"It seems someone has read their potions textbook. One point for Hufflepuff."
Next to me, Sampson gave me a small smile, but I was too focused on the blackboard to care. I'm pretty sure I looked into Snape's eyes… not good.
The rest of the lesson passed agonisingly slowly and I swear I felt Snape's eyes boring into me, analysing my every move. I was so jittery, I nearly made several mistakes in brewing the boil-cure potion, and even then I probably ruined it anyway by contaminating it with sweat.
At the end of the class, I felt nervous, and could not wait to finish the final lesson of Charms so the week would finally be over.
Then I'd just have to contend with the homework.
Last edited: Feb 14, 2022
The room of convenience
Five weeks in and I'd found some semblance of normalcy, even if normalcy now involves moving staircases, talking portraits, and dancing suits of armour.
When I'd first arrived, I'd mulled over the possibility that Carnac Le Fay was just a creation of the ROB. A puppet complete with the information needed to navigate this strange new world.
The memories quickly dissuaded me of that notion.
The recollections that have bled through so far aren't that impressive; just a few spells Carnac knew, trivia about the wizarding world any magical child should know, and enough information to successfully pretend to be him when writing home.
Staring at the blank parchment before me, I felt scummy. Here I was, playing the part of a dead child for his parents, who didn't even know anything was amiss.
Writing to Giles, Carnac's older brother, was worse though. While Carnac's parents were happy to ask how I was doing, Giles had question after question about how I was finding Hogwarts and Britain in general. Questions that I had to scramble to answer in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion.
The only silver lining was that Giles had elected to follow in my… Carnac's parent's footsteps and go to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic instead of Hogwarts, which meant I didn't have to deal with this whole charade while stuck in the same building as someone who knew the real Carnac.
I pushed aside the blank parchment after another moment of deliberation. I wasn't focused enough to do letter writing now, and while I could do homework, I wasn't in the right headspace.
I needed a break. To do something different…
That gave me an idea.
Tracking down the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy's dancing trolls took much longer than I thought it would, although, standing before it, it was hard to overlook.
Seriously, whoever created it is one sick fuck, what with the writhing bloody figure of Barnabas in the centre and the trolls in pink tutus twirling around him, pausing every few seconds to club the poor man. I hope the art isn't sentient, because that seems like literal hell.
Eventually, I found it in myself to turn away from that train-wreck of a scene and face the opposite wall, and without further ado, I began pacing.
The Come and Go room was exactly like I imagined it. Dusty furniture, stacks of tattered books, and mounds of ragged robes. It was like a hoarder's wet dream, and I had so many questions about how it worked. So many ideas of how to utilise it.
Stepping back out, I checked for any onlookers, before pacing back and forth again.
This time, the room opened into a vaulted chamber. Piles of knuts, sickles and even a few gold gallions littered the floor, pouring out of the tattered remains of moleskin pouches and thief-proof purses. Silver spoons marked with the Hogwarts crest, muggle currency, and coinage from all eras of Britain's history spilled out from school trunks and statues sported a hundred years worth of jewellery that students had left behind.
And that was me just asking the room for treasure.
I was so, so tempted to get a closer look, but thankfully, common sense won out over that impulse. Many of my roommates were rather creative with the anti-theft jinxes on their trunks and personal effects and I was willing to bet that many of the students who'd lost their stuff here were similar.
Only one way to find out.
"Ostend Venenum," I enunciated.
In the room, several of the bags and trunks began to glow. A sign of unsavoury magic. Still, I didn't try to enter. The Magic-detection spell was a first year charm, so there was no way It had uncovered all the cursed items in the room, and the remaining dark magic was probably of the more malicious type, if a certain diadem on a bust in the corner was any indication.
Stepping back, I closed the door to the literal cursed hoard and began pacing again.
The library I wished for was large, not as large as the Hogwarts Library, but it still contained more books than I expected, stuffed into bookcases, heaped on tables and piled in towering stacks.
A quick 'Ostend Venenum' was all the confirmation I needed to know this room was as dangerous as the treasury, but from the safety of the doorway, I was able to spot some curious tomes.
Finally, after a few minutes of perusing, I decided it was time to test the Room of Requirement's ability to create passageways.
I wished to get into the Chamber of Secrets.
This time, the doorway opened into a stairwell leading straight down.
"Lumos," I whispered, hesitantly stepping in and wedging the door open behind me. I hadn't expected this to be so easy
Slowly, I crept forward, following the corkscrew staircase down into the bowels of the castle.
After what felt like forever, I reached the bottom, where a silver-framed door was set into the water-streaked stone wall.
In place of a door handle was a coiled snake with emeralds for eyes.
Before I could get too close, the snake shivered, stretched out and hissed at me. A Parseltongue password perhaps?
Step by step, I backed away. I could probably get to the Chamber via the pipe-system if I really wanted to, but that had the risk of me getting lost and running into the big fuck-off-snake in the dark… No, if it came down to it and I needed to get into the Chamber of Secrets, I'd use this door. After all, it probably wouldn't stand up against a defodio or barrage of bombarda.
I just had to learn those bloody spells.
Walking back up the stairway, I emerged back onto the seventh-floor corridor opposite from the tapestry of trolls in tutus, deep in thought.
I could probably use the Room of Requirement to bypass the traps and get to the Philosophers stone if the need arose, and, while my failure to actually get into the Chamber of Secrets was disappointing, the door probably wouldn't last long if I got desperate.
Glancing around, I set off towards the library to find books with the spells I needed. A bit of extracurricular activity never hurt anyone.
And knowing my luck, I'd probably need to get through that door sooner rather than later.
Last edited: Feb 15, 2022
Elves, friends, and frag bombs.
--
Here's a bit of fluff.
A week before Christmas break, I was in the kitchens, practicing spell-work and trying not to think about my inevitable trip home. I'd tried to weasel my way out of it, and stay at Hogwarts for the holidays but my… but Carnac's parents were having none of it.
Damn memory bleed-through.
Around me, house-elves scurried about their tasks as I repeated the same old spells over and over again. I even had an audience, with a nearby bench occupied by a crew of cleaning elves, back from mopping Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, just watching my efforts over a cold mug of butterbeer.
"Reparo!" I repeated for the umpteenth time, trying to force magic through my wand and into the spell.
Within the abandoned fireplace ahead of me, fragments of my target, a shattered teapot, flew into the air and slotted themselves back together.
"You's getting faster!"
I spared a glance for Glirus. He was a strange elf, who'd made it his mission to mind me while I was in the kitchens.
"That's the plan," I said breathily. Magic is surprisingly draining when done too much.
"Why's you want to get faster?" Glirus asked, garnering a few warning glares from his fellow elves. "You's is good at you's repairing. Why's you want to be quicker?"
"I just do," I said. "Reparo is a useful spell to have and I want to perfect it."
That's actually pretty close to the truth. I still remember the scene from Fantastic Beasts where it was used to repair New York. That may not have happened in this universe, but apparently, repair spells of that scale had…
But it wasn't the whole reason.
"Could you please break it again, Glirus?" I asked.
Happily, the elf popped over to the fireplace and hurled the teapot into the brickwork with a burst of magic before popping back to his seat.
"Thanks… Reparo!"
The shattering and fixing of the teapot continued, over and over again, with Glirus watching on with wide-eyed fascination. Finally, needing a break, I slumped onto one of the nearby benches and Glirus handed me a towel.
"You's working too hard!" he said pointedly, earning a few glares from the other house-elves. "You's doing the same thing over and over again! Why's you not just have house-elf to fix broken things?"
"Not everyone can afford a house-elf," I said, before biting my tongue. "I'm sorry, that was fucking insensitive."
Glirus watched me expectantly as if waiting for me to elaborate, and I scrambled to think of a topic to switch to. Something that didn't have anything to do with what was essentially slavery.
"Hey Glirus, do you… um. Are you interested in magic?"
"Oh! Yes, Master Le Fay! I is always being interested in magic!"
"Anything that you think is particularly interesting?" I asked.
"Yes!" Glirus practically bounced on his seat, vibrating with excitement. "I is always cleaning down in the dungeons and I is seeing Professor Trocar! He is always doing little spells with his hands like us elves!"
Professor Trocar? Doing wandless magic? That was curious, and, come to think of it, I'd never seen him use a wand…
"Hey, Glirus," I asked softly. "Do you ever get the feeling there's something off about Professor Trocar?"
Glancing around Glirus leaned closer. A fruitless endeavour, seeing as all the nearby elves were obviously listening in.
"I is talking to matron elf," Glirus said in a conspiratorial whisper. "She is saying Professor Trocar is always needing the same meals. Always black pudding and blood sausages. Never anything else! No treacle tarts or tea! Matron says he's not even wanting any herbs in his meals!"
I stared at Glirus in dread. Trocar only ate blood-based products?!
"Carnac! There you are!"
I jumped, wheeling around just in time to see a pink-haired head duck through the portrait-hole entrance.
"By Puck! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I gasped.
"Sorry," Tonks said, sounding completely insincere. "I was in a rush to get here. Professor Trocar assigned us a five-foot essay on the alternative uses of a patronus!"
I glanced at where Glirus had been seconds ago, but he was long gone, along with all the other elves on break. For some reason, they didn't like people seeing them idle.
I'd have to catch up with him later. To ask for some garlic.
"I mean, I didn't know anything about that spell this morning," Tonks continued, oblivious to my plight, "and now he wants us to write an essay!"
"I thought you wanted to become an Auror?" I asked, turning back to my broken teapot and shoving aside the feeling of anxiety to worry about later.
"I mean, yeah," Tonks said offhandedly, "but only Azkaban guards need to know how to do patronuses!"
Before I could get in a comment about dismissing useful magic, the portrait-hole opened again and Cedric and Charlie Weasley ducked through.
"You're early Carnac," Cedric commented, slumping down next to Tonks. "You practicing your spell-work again?"
I nodded, purposely ignoring Cedric's frown.
Hufflepuff is unlike any other house at Hogwarts. We look out for each other, and when Cedric noticed I didn't hang out with my dorm-mates, he'd taken me under his wing.
Said I reminded him of his neighbour or something.
The first time Cedric had dragged me here, I'd been shocked to find myself meeting with two other people from canon. Coincidences like that just shouldn't happen, and I'd been convinced it was some complex scheme from that Puck damned ROB!
If I'm honest, I was being paranoid.
It turns out that Cedric knows Charlie from growing up in the same area, and Charlie is friends with Tonks since they're both in the same year.
Somehow, they made the friendship work, even with Cedric only in his second year, and both Charlie and Tonks in their last.
"So!" Charlie announced, setting down his textbooks on the table before Tonks and Cedric. "Who's ready for Homework!"
The two of them groaned.
During one of the numerous breaks from homework, I paused my spell-work to listen to Tonks as she made a scene.
"What are you going to do next year without us here?" she lamented dramatically to Cedric. "All alone! No friends-"
"I have other friends!" Cedric interrupted. "It's just that they only want to talk about Quidditch. I can barely get any homework done with them around."
"So you only use us for help with Homework!" Tonks faux wailed. "And here I thought us Hufflepuffs stuck together through thick and thin…"
"Leave him alone, Tonks," Charlie said with an eye roll. "He's just upset we beat your team a hundred and ten to nil."
"I nearly had that snitch!" Cedric complained, "and then you came out of nowhere!"
"You just need to be more aware of your surroundings Cedric," Charlie grinned with an air of smug satisfaction.
"Watch it, mister!" Tonks said warningly, a smile playing across her lips. "I wouldn't be so high and mighty if I were you. After all, you're in a room with three Hufflepuffs, and we may take exception to you being too Gryffindorish. Isn't that right Carnac!"
"I didn't see the game," I admitted with a shrug, "so I'm not getting involved in this."
"Traitor!" Tonks gasped.
The conversation soon lapsed into a pleasant silence, broken only by the scratching of quills and my whispered confractus and repero charms, shattering and repairing the teapot over and over again.
Eventually, though, Tonks got bored and spoke up.
"Can I just say something?" she asked. "I'm actually kind of jealous. This is our last year here, and I'm happy to be done with school and all that, but next year is the year that Harry-blimmin-Potter is starting! And we miss him by that much!" She held her fingers together for emphasis and Cedric laughed.
"If you're really that anxious to meet him, you could just flunk-"
"Absolutely not!" Tonks exclaimed, drawing a few pointed looks from the ever-busy house-elves. "I'm done with school, and I already have a spot at the Auror Academy next year… but still, It would be kind of cool to be at Hogwarts at the same time as the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Can we please not talk about The Boy-Who-Lived," Charlie groaned. "I'm going to have to put up with enough of that rubbish at home! Ginny's had a crush on him forever."
"Cute!" Tonks cooed. "Does she write sappy poetry about her 'one true love?' I remember doing that when I was her age-"
"You still act like that now!" Cedric laughed.
"I wouldn't know," Charlie cut in before Tonks could shoot back a reply. "The last time the twins got ahold of her diary, she managed to steal Fred's wand and nailed them both with the pimple jinx. I'm scared of what she'd do to me if I asked about her sappy poetry."
"Really!" Cedric asked in disbelief. "There's no way Ginny would do that!"
"Everyone's always on their best behaviour when you come over," Charlie protested, "but the rest of the time it's bedlam."
Cedric rolled his eyes and Tonks glanced my way.
"Oy, Carnac! Are you done with your spell-work yet?"
"One last one!" I promised, turning back to the pot in the fireplace. "Bombarda."
The teapot shattered, spraying shards of porcelain across the floor. The house-elves screamed in surprise and popped away from the explosion, leaving me standing before the cracked fireplace.
"Merlin!" Charlie screamed. "Carnac, what was that!"
"That's a fourth-year spell!" Tonks laughed. "Is that what you were practicing before I got here!"
Ignoring them, I pointed my wand at the now empty fireplace. Concentrating, I gave it my all.
"Reparo!"
Fragments of teapot zipped across the room, fragmenting against obstacles and each other in a haste to reform the teapot. As soon as it was whole, cracks spider-webbed across it, disappearing instantly as I kept pushing magic into the spell.
The teapot, fragmented only moments before, sat intact in the hearth of the fireplace.
I stared at the scratch marks on the stone floor and gouges in the wooden tables, left over by the flying fragments of porcelain.
It was probably stupid to do that without proper protection, but Puck-damn I felt victorious.
Panting slightly, I turned to the upper years with a grin. They were watching my attempt at a reverse frag bomb in shock.
Now, I wonder if I can do that with an claymore mine?
Last edited: May 7, 2022
A typical Christmas dinner.
Heading to London for Christmas aboard the Hogwarts Express was a novel experience. Outside, the snow blanketed hills whisked past, and muggle towns and cities flew by as I watched, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
I was going to meet Carnac's family. His Mémaen and Père and brother. From the memories that had bled through, I knew them as if they were my own, but I was still nervous.
I don't think my classmates noticed my brittle smile or lack of Christmas cheer, but then again, they probably didn't know me well enough to read me. It's not like I hung out with them outside of class.
At King's Cross Station, I had to push my way through the throngs of wizarding families and wait in line to use the floo for what felt like a lifetime. Finally stepping into the green fire, I took a shaky breath and said the familiar words.
"La Maison Le Fay. Guernsey."
Wiping the soot out of my eyes, I stumbled out of the fireplace at home, almost tripping over my luggage. Looking around, everything seemed so familiar.
"Carnac!"
My Mémaen stepped through the door, giving me a long appraising look. Before I could even attempt to brush myself off, she hurried forward and wrapped me in a hug.
"Mémaen," I complained, trying to wriggle out of her embrace, "can't breath."
Mémaen let me go and stepped back to hold me at arm's length.
"Oh, look at you," she said happily, looking me up and down. "I swear you're a foot taller."
"Mémaen!" I complained, forgetting myself in the moment. It just felt so familiar.
"Welcome home, 'pitit pouques,'" she said, ignoring my petulance with an amused smile. "Now, Giles arrived home this morning and should be in the living room with your Père. I've already told him off for not writing home more often, but since this is your first time away, I'll give you a break. But I expect regular letters next term, mister."
"I'll write Mémaen."
"Good." She looked me over once more and smiled. "Now go put your things away and go see your brother and Père. Tell them dinner will be ready in an hour."
"Yes Mémaen," I said, hurrying to my room.
The house looked pretty much the same as I remembered it, besides the Christmas decorations; sprigs of holly and mistletoe with pine-wreath above every doorway. My parents had gone all out in decorating the place this year.
Shaking my head, I tried to focus my thoughts. Carnac's parents! Not mine!
But it was so hard to remember while surrounded by reminders of childhood memories.
Catching up with the family was great, and soon our conversations moved to the dining room as we sat around the table, discussing Giles's acceptance into the Beauxbâtons quidditch team and how Père managed to get a contract for Guernsey to act as a waypoint for the floo network instead of one of the other Channel Islands (suck it Jersey!).
As dinner was being served out, Père kept glancing at both Giles and me with an expression of excitement, a smile flickering across his face. When Mémaen sat down, she gave him a nod and he beamed.
"Boys," he said. "I have something very interesting to share with you both. "Something you both need to keep quiet about."
"Is it something about the Floo deal?" Giles asked, leaning forward in interest.
"It's related to that," Père admitted, "but only marginally. It's actually a rumour that's been going around in the higher echelons of the Ministry of Magic and the Ministère des Affaires Magiques. I only just found out about it when the floo business was being wrapped up. Madam Edgecombe was the one to tell me. Do you remember her? Head of the British Floo Network office?"
Both Giles and I nodded, sharing a small questioning glance with each other. Where was this going?
"She said that there are rumours going around the Ministry about a new prophecy!" Père announced with a Cheshire grin.
"A new prophecy?" Giles asked cautiously. "But don't those happen all the time?"
"Ohoho," Père chuckled, wagging his finger at Giles. "I haven't even gotten to the best part! Madam Edgecombe said that apparently this prophecy was so important that Minister Fudge was called down to the Department of Mysteries, and that, she heard the same thing happened at the Ministère des Affaires Magiques as well."
"So!" I prompted. That did not sound good, especially since there was no mention of something like that in the Harry Potter books.
"So, it wasn't just some two-bit palm reader's parlour trick. According to several of my colleagues within the British and French Ministries, this is a big one. One that even the International Confederation of Wizards are talking about."
My mouth was dry. This sounded like a big shift from canon. I subdued the roiling feeling of panic. I was being paranoid again.
There was no way I could know everything that went on in the original timeline, so, It wouldn't do to worry about every new detail that cropped up.
"I think you've left them waiting for long enough dear," Mémaen said softly. "Why don't you tell them the prophecy."
I turned to face Père so fast my neck clicked audibly.
Père looked disgruntled.
"I was getting to that-"
"You know the Prophecy!" Giles almost shouted. "How!"
"One of my contacts in France overheard some of the higher-ups from the Department of Records talking," Père said bluntly, "and yes, I am inclined to believe him."
"Stop playing it out," Mémaen chided lightly.
"I'm getting to it!" Père protested. "So, he unfortunately only overheard a few phrases; 'Les fileur de destin,' and 'bon voisin.'"
"That's it‽" Giles asked, as I wracked my brain, combing through Carnac's memories of French diction.
"Don't you see!" Père exclaimed. "They were talking about 'Les fileur de destin.' 'The weaver of destiny!' Of fate!"
"And they said they'd be a 'bon voisin,'" I said. "A 'good neighbour.'" Good neighbour… that sounded familiar.
"So what?" Giles asked again. "I don't see how that is something that has the Ministries in a tizzy."
"Not just a tizzy," Père stated. "It's a secret. They are keeping it out of the press and preventing it from leaking to the general public. I heard the British even muzzled that Rita woman. The one who writes all the gossip pieces for the Prophet."
Giles shrugged, uninterested, and Père deflated. The wind was taken out of his sails by the lack of Gile's enthusiasm.
I, on the other hand, was still mulling over that prophecy. 'Les fileur de destin.' 'Bon voisin.' The weaver of fate is a good neighbour? The good neighbour is the weaver of fate? I felt I should know what it meant.
"So, Carnac," Mémaen said, stirring me from my thoughts. "How are you finding Hogwarts?"
"No one made any issues for you yet?" Père added. "Because you know how those British are."
Rolling my eyes, I put the thoughts of prophecy aside. Père's disregard for the British was what had made my first few weeks at Hogwarts living hell. He'd filled my head up with stories of blood purists that I had not seen any sign of yet.
"No, Père. It's been fine," I told him. "No one's commented about me being a Le Fay. I told you how I got sorted into Hufflepuff, right? Well, they're probably the friendliest house."
"And what about your teachers?" Giles asked.
I glanced his way. He already knew that from all the letters. What was his game?
"They're good," I said, quickly recounting what we'd been learning in each class, while trying to gloss over the flaws of Snape and Professor Binns, but when I got to Professor Trocar, Père held up a hand.
"Trocar‽ Are you sure that's his real name‽"
"Yes… why do you ask?"
"Do you know his first name‽" Père questioned. "What does he look like‽"
I shot Giles a curious look, but he seemed just as confused as me. Mémaen seemed deep in thought, as if trying to recall something.
"I don't know his first name," I admitted, "but he's tall and kind of pale, and he honestly gives me the creeps."
Mémaen gasped and Père looked me dead in the eye.
"He's a vampire."
I shrugged. I'd known since halfway through the first term and, while Vampires were dark creatures according to the Ministry, I didn't put too much stock in their classifications, especially since the said werewolves were evil beings, and I still remembered Remus Lupin was both a werewolf and a good man.
"Not only that," Père continued, looking pale, "but the Trocar clan were involved in the fairy hunts."
That sounded familiar… but I couldn't place where I'd heard it. Giles looked equally confused.
"Fairy hunts?"
"After the Statute of Secrecy was enacted, the Wizengamot decided that fairies and the other magical creatures of Britain posed too much of a threat to the new secrecy," Père explained. "They exterminated most, using vampires to sniff out those that went into hiding. Only the Centaurs, Goblins, and Leprechauns survived in any meaningful number, and that's only because of magical contracts dating back to the Romans, Anglos, and Normans, respectively."
I'd never heard of all this. I think Binns may have droned on about the hunts at one point, but I'd assumed they'd been limited to just hunts. Not a full-blown genocide.
"What about house-elves," I asked. "There are heaps of them at Hogwarts."
"House-elves," Père spat, "you mean those hairless stunted runts the wizarding gentry keep as slaves? Those things are no more house-elves that a muggle poodle is a wolf. House-elves were culled. Not in the same way as many other fairies, but they were culled all the same. They used to be as numerous and diverse as trees in the forest; brownies, hobs, and fenodyree, all proud and fierce. Now look at their descendants. They don't hold a candle."
He breathed out heavily and shook his head sadly.
"I'm getting sidetracked. Yes, fairies were killed off, and yes it was a tragedy, but that is a discussion for another time. For now, be wary of Trocar and any other vampires you meet. They are not to be trusted. Understand?"
I nodded, but I couldn't help but wonder. Père was wrong about British wizards giving me grief over my ancestry. Could he be wrong about vampires as well?
The table descended into silence, with no one knowing quite what to say after such a heavy topic, finally Mémaen cleared her throat.
"How about we put these dark topics aside. It's Christmas after all."
"Oui," Père agreed. "I've said my piece. Just… Carnac, be careful when you get back to Hogwarts."
"I will," I promised.
The calm before exams.
With the return from the Christmas break, classes suddenly seemed to take on a new intensity. The Professors started piling on more homework to our weekly workload, the classes delved into the theory behind every single spell we'd learned, and the hours spent trying to perfect every single charm and potion became more gruelling.
Easter flew by almost unnoticed, and with the end of year exams looming, Charlie and Tonk's banter died down as they worried over their homework, preparing for their N.E.W.T. papers.
I, on the other hand, had decided not to stress myself out over exams.
With the seventh years struggling away behind piles of books and Cedric off with his other friends, I was a bit freer in what I could research, and I now had a whole new world of spells open to me.
"Kryono," I said, aiming at the dented cauldron in the same abandoned fireplace I'd tested spells in a hundred times before.
Frost crept across the black metal and I ended the spell in a rush. It wasn't supposed to do that! It was supposed to be a cooling charm, not a freezing spell. I checked the tattered tome on the table beside me, rereading the spell's description for the umpteenth time. I'm pretty sure I had the wand-movement wrong.
Unfortunately, unclear instructions were only one of the many issues I'd had with the books from the Room of Requirement. They were stashed away for a reason after all.
The history books are dry and filled with out of date information, the potions books have recipes that require herbs that went extinct centuries ago, and even the private grimoires and notebooks of past students are disappointing, filled with joke spells, or magic that requires full-on chanting and hectic wand-movement to work.
Even with all that, I've still managed to find a few gems.
"Ardere Armos!" I said carefully, whipping my wand-arm forward. In the abandoned fireplace, the frost vaporised as the dented cauldron glowed cherry red.
"Kryono," I said, uttering the counter-spell.
Slowly, the heat leached out of it, leaving the cauldron blackened and the hearth speckled with flakes of hammerscale. Thankfully, this time, I didn't turn the fireplace into an icebox.
"You's do know some strange magic," Glirus chirped from the nearby bench.
"You're not the only one who likes learning new magic," I replied, stepping forward to check if the spell had worked properly.
Glirus stared at the cauldron. Deep in thought.
"Why's you always practicing?" he asked eventually. "Why in the kitchens?"
Shrugging, I continued to examine the cauldron.
"As I said before, I like learning new magic," I said. "Plus, you're good company."
A quick glance at Glirus and I knew it was the wrong thing to say. He was staring at me in awe.
Merlin no! Please Glirus, don't turn into Dobby.
"Also," I continued, trying to head off whatever Glirus was thinking, "my friends like to study here. Although I think they mainly come here for the snacks."
"I heard that Le Fay!" Tonks called out from behind her stack of books. "I am motivated by more than food you know."
I didn't deign to answer her, instead, glancing back at Glirus, who was still staring at me with wide eyes.
Turning back to the cauldron, I cast another 'Ardere Armos' while doing my damndest to ignore the situation I'd created.
"Hey, Carnac!" Tonk's asked during one of her numerous interludes between cramming, "what spell is that?"
Ever since my foray into overpowered charms, both Tonks and Charlie had taken a sudden interest in my spell-work. I guess it pays to know when to duck after all, although the way Tonks was staring at the white-hot cauldron, I think she realised the desk wouldn't be a good enough shield if I set this one off.
"Ardere Armos," I replied. "I'm pretty sure it was a jinx to cook knights in their armour. Not very useful nowadays, but it seems to work well enough on all the metal I've tried it on."
Tonks nodded absentmindedly, and I subtly moved in front of the open tome I'd gotten the spell from. Most of the magic was okay, but there were a few spells that I suspect the Ministry wouldn't approve of. Plus, I didn't want to answer any questions about where I'd gotten it from.
"I have to ask," Tonks said eventually. "Why are you so relaxed with your exams coming up? Most people are cramming for their end-of-year tests, but you're playing with new spells. I know you're not exactly doing O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, but normally firsties are a bit more panicked than you are. Heck, I remember Cedric was absolutely frantic last year for his finals."
"I feel pretty confident," I said lightly, which was true. My spell-work was spot on, and I knew everything I needed to know for the essays. Plus, I wasn't too worried about following the curriculum.
After all, a certain pact with an eldritch being meant that I wouldn't even get the chance to finish my schooling at Hogwarts.
"In the practicals, I can understand," Tonks scoffed. "I'm scared you'll give the Professors a heart attack when you turn a splinter into a great-sword or overpower your lumos or something. But, I haven't even seen you touch a quill. How are you with the theoretical side of things? On the essay writing?"
"I'm good," I said.
Tonks gave me a long, contemplative look, before shaking her head.
"Okay then," she said, glancing in disdain at the books piled around her. "I'll let you get back to your thing."
Staring at the cauldron, I stared at the smouldering metal. I felt a little bit ashamed about turning away Tonk's small offer of help, even if it was an excuse to put off her own work.
"Do yous know any more spells? Master Le Fay?" Glirus asked before I could get too angsty. "Or are yous done for today?"
"I'm done," I said softly.
Maybe it was best if I did a little bit of a swotting for the written exams after all.
Last edited: Feb 17, 2022
Stress, tests, and a Vampire encounter.
Waiting to be let into the classroom for the first exam, I saw I wasn't the only one to feel trepidation. There was no talking or joking as we sat down, just the frantic muttering of stressed children or the stony silence of acceptance.
By the end of the written portion of the exam, I felt despondent. My wrist felt sore from the anticheating quill, which was a tad too long, and I was positive that the resulting blobs and streaks of ink would get me marked down.
The essays continued in much the same vein, yet somehow, the practicals were more stressful, though they had no reason to be, and waiting to be called into the stuffy classroom for my turn was like waiting for the gallows.
Overall, I think I achieved a passable score, or at least managed not to flunk. With the Transfiguration test, I had some difficulty changing the mouse into a snuff box when it tried to run away halfway through the transformation, but I made up for that mistake with charms, where I made my pineapple do an Irish dance in addition to the tap-dance much to the delight of Professor Flitwick.
In the kitchens, after the last nerve-wracking test with Snape, I took the chance to relax and load up on comfort food from the elves. The seventh years still had their exams, so I was all alone to enjoy a pint of butterbeer while the house-elves rushed around, preparing that night's dinner.
"You's did good?" one of the kitchen hands asked worriedly as he slid over the fifth mug.
I glanced at him tiredly, opting not to answer. I was hamming my weariness up a bit, but I still felt tired. The stress and the exhaustion from late-night cramming sessions had taken a bit out of me.
"Master Le Fay," Gliris chirped, popping out of nowhere next to me. "You's have a Professor asking for you's."
"Who is it?" I asked warily.
"It's Professor Trocar, master Le Fay. He's wanting to meet you in his office."
I nodded absentmindedly even as the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. There was no way in hell that I was going to be caught dead alone with Trocar. The last thing I needed was an end-of-year vampire attack.
Despite my resolution, as the afternoon wore on, I felt more and more on edge.
Around six, the matron elf found time to chase me out of the kitchens with a wooden spoon, and I made my way through the winding underbelly of the school, towards the Great Hall.
I had just reached the staircase leading to the ground floor when I sensed a presence behind me. Wheeling around, I saw him.
Professor Trocar was wreathed in his trademark black cloak. Face as cold and unreadable as a statue.
"I requested you meet me in my office," he stated softly. "Didn't your parents teach you not to leave people waiting?"
I tried to school my face, but his cold smile told me he knew exactly how scared I was.
"It was smart of you to seek the safety of the kitchen," he said. "That is one of the few places I cannot go. Even now, you reek of the substance."
Garlic! Puck damn it, how the hell did I forget to grab garlic‽
"Oh, come now," Trocar crooned, probably mistaking my mental anguish for something else entirely. "Surely you've heard the rumours? You must know what I am by now."
"A vampire," I whispered.
"Correct." Trocar bent forward until his face was inches from mine. I should have felt his breath, or warmth, but he was cold as the grave. "Us vampires have always been seen as evil," he hummed. "It is true we all have an affinity for black magic, but calm yourself. I'm not going to hurt you."
Trocar's toothy grin did not put me at ease.
"I see greatness in you, Good Neighbour" he said softly, looming over me. "And I hope to foster that greatness into something legendary. Just as Melis the Greek taught Dracula, I offer my tutorage to you."
I cringed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence.
The comparison to Dracula had me worried. Vlad the Impaler, in this world, was the first true vampire and a dark wizard akin to Ekrizdis or Koschei. He was the one who destroyed Solomonărie, the wizarding school of the Balkans, and drove back the Ottomans from Europe.
I couldn't understand why Trocar thought I'd live up to the first Vampire's reputation.
Focusing on the most innocuous thing I could find in that statement, I asked; "Good neighbour?"
"You don't know?" Trocar asked. "You don't know about the prophecy?"
A jolt of fear ran through me. The prophecy.
Good neighbour… It was a euphemism to refer to fairy-folk.
Trocar watched me for a long moment before backing away, nose scrunched in disgust.
"You reek of garlic boy."
The non sequitur caught me off guard, and as Trocar turned away, I stared at his back with uncertainty.
"I believe you are the prophesied 'Les fileur de destin,'" he said over his shoulder. "At the sorting, I felt a stirring in magic, something I thought nothing of at the time, but, over the course of this year, I've sensed a change in you. It is as if you were a hollow shell, newly filled with the spark of life. A spark that has only recently coalesced into a proper soul."
Fuck. Fuck my life, Fuck Murphy, and Fuck the ROB who dropped me in this dimension.
"How did you find out‽" I demanded. "How did you find out about the prophecy‽"
Trocar grinned at me, showing his fangs.
"That is something we can discuss in years to come," he said smoothly. "But now, I must be gone. Stay safe Le Fay, for it may very well be years before we reacquaint. But we will meet again."
Staring at the vampire as he disappeared into the darkness, I felt chills.
Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Last edited: Feb 19, 2022
The train ride home
There was no announcement from the staff to explain Trocar's absence, but with his non-attendance of the End-of-Term Feast, rumours overtook the school.
Standing at the Hogsmeade station, waiting to board, I the overheard some truely wild rumours about Trocar's disappearance. Some Ravenclaw girls whispered that he was driven out by vampire hunters, while a Gryffindor fifth year loudly claimed Snape had trapped him in the dungeons out of jealousy for copying his style.
I didn't add to the rumour mill, but I had my own theory that he'd simply walked away. To me, Trocar seemed like the sort that would just slip off into the night once his business was complete.
On the train ride back to London, I holed up in a compartment with Tonks and Charlie, listening as the two of them chattered away, arguing about tests, reliving Hogwarts memories with melancholy, and discussing future plans.
"I can't wait," Charlie said breathlessly. "I mean, I'm finally going to be able to work with dragons! Professor McGonagall helped me get scholarships from both the Snowdon Reserve and the Romanian Sanctuary!"
"Which one are you thinking of going with?" I asked. I already knowing the answer, but it was nice to see him so impassioned.
"The Romanian Sanctuary," Charlie said instantly. "I've been to the Snowdon Reserve, and it's great, but they've only got a pride of Welsh Green, and a few Ruddy Pyrrex. The Romanian Sanctuary, meanwhile, has dragons from all over Europe!"
"You and your dragons!" Tonks laughed. Turning to me, she whispered; "he's actually going with the Romanian option to get away from his mum!"
"Tonks! Carnac doesn't need to know that!" Charlie said, having the sense to look abashed. "And what about you? You said that you were becoming-"
"-I'm becoming an Auror!" Tonks spoke over him, glaring daggers. "Because I want to make a difference!"
"You told me you-" Charlie was cut off as Tonks struck him with a silencing charm. Turning to me, she smiled sweetly.
"Do you have anything to add?"
I held up my hands in surrender, shaking my head.
"Good!" she said, hitting Charlie with the counterspell. "Now, does anyone know what happened to-"
"Hey guys," Cedric said, stepping into the compartment. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, nothing," Tonks said, grinning. "We were just talking about you. Carnac was saying he saw you with a girl!"
"I did not!" I denied with an eye roll. "We were talking about what these two are doing after Hogwarts."
"Cool," Cedric said, taking a seat. "By the way Charlie, I ran into Oliver Wood on the way here. He's searching for you."
Charlie paled. "You didn't tell him where I am?" he asked.
"The Twins seemed to be doing a good enough job distracting him," Cedric replied, with a grin. "They were asking him about his thoughts on last summer's Quidditch World Cup."
"Good," Charlie said, sounding relieved. "That should keep him busy. When school started, all he talked about was the Scottish defeat against Canada. I hope the Twins are ready for a rant."
"Why are you even hiding from Wood?" I asked. "Isn't he one of your friends?"
Tonks began laughing and Charlie elbowed her in the ribs before turning to me.
"Wood's been trying to tear me a new one ever since I said I was going to go into dragon keeping instead of Quidditch-"
"-You should have heard him Carnac!" Tonk's gasped. "He walked right up to poor Charlie in the Entry Hall and laid into him in front of everyone!"
"He thinks I should play Professionally," Charlie grimaced, shaking his head. "Too much stress for too little reward. I think I'll leave that up to the Twins or Ron. They've got more passion for Quidditch than me."
Cedric rolled his eyes and Tonks mouthed 'He's crazy,' while pointing a thumb at Charlie.
"I'm not crazy!" Charlie objected, "I just can't see myself doing it professionally."
"But Charlie, think of the money!" Cedric said, joining in banter.
Charlie scoffed derisively, leaning back and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence settled over the train compartment as Tonks began twirling her wand and Cedric stuck his nose in a book, and I began to mull over my meeting with Trocar.
I'm not ashamed to say, my encounter with the vampire had rattled me. I mean, here was a who-knows-how-old bloodsucker, saying he'd like to teach me like Melis the Greek taught Dracula, all because of a prophecy.
Thinking over the prophecy, I was of two minds.
Firstly, I didn't even know the whole prophecy, and the lines I did know were vague. For one, there are hundreds of Le Fay, half-fairies, and even a few full-blooded fairies the 'good neighbour' title could refer to, and that's assuming it even refers to a fairy at all.
The 'Les fileuses de destiny' part is even less clear and could refer to the individual literally becoming someone who shapes fate, (which is heavy magic that hasn't been seen for thousands of years) to them being the beginning of a new bloodline of prophets.
Despite all that uncertainty, I have my own private theory. Something that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, the prophecy refers to me after all.
Prophecies, in general, are unavoidable. If you try and change them, you end up making them come true, and that seemed especially true in the canon, where not even time-travel could change events. But here, I'm an unexpected variable. I wasn't in the Harry Potter series, and theoretically, as an outsider, I can muck with events and change the future. Puck knows I'm going to try.
Maybe the 'weaver of fate' title is just magic's way of trying to get a handle on the situation by recognising my ability to change things.
I don't know for certain, but if that's the case, then were there past 'Les fileur de destiny' like me? Food for thought.
Anyway, I'm not too bothered with the prophecy. Either I can't change it, or it's not definite, so not worth the worry. What I am concerned about is the attention it'll get me.
Trocar already knows, and that's one person too many. If Dumbledore or, Merlin forgive, Voldemort finds out, my arse is grass.
"Hey, Carnac," Charlie asked. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," I told him, pushing aside my worries. I'd have time to dwell on them over the Summer. Until then, I'd enjoy the remaining time I had with my friends to the fullest.
Last edited: Feb 19, 2022
Dumbledore's thoughts
Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore watched the Hogwarts Express depart from Hogsmeade pensively.
Much had occurred over the past year that had demanded his attention, ranging from the young Weasley Twin's rather amusing pranks, to assisting the Deutsches Zaubereiministerium while they helped smooth over the reunification of East and West Germany.
Unfortunately, the thing that occupied his thoughts was much more serious and much closer to home. Professor Trocar was on his mind, and for the first time that year, it was not because of the man's vampiric afflictions.
When Eldred Worple, one of Horace Slughorn's old students, had recommended the vampire, Albus had been apprehensive. Vampires, after all, had a notoriety for being dark creatures.
Then again, Albus wasn't one to judge people by stereotypes.
Minerva had been apoplectic when she'd found out, slipping into Scottish brogue so thick, Albus had had trouble understanding her. Regrettably, by that point, it was too late as the contract was signed, and the matter had been laid to rest.
Despite what Minerva's off-colour remarks about senility may have suggested, Albus wasn't stupid. Kooky, perhaps, and most certainly eccentric, but not stupid.
Whenever Trocar had left his chambers, he'd been under constant surveillance from the portraits and suits of armour. An ingenious idea, Albus had thought at the time, as no one paid the paintings in Hogwarts any notice.
For a time, Albus had been content, and fortunately, Professor Trocar hadn't bitten anyone, nor had he seemed interested in anything beyond his teaching and more… esoteric studies. Unfortunately, he'd drawn something to Albus's attention. Carnac Le Fay; the possible 'Les fileur de destin,' and a hope for defeating Tom.
Albus sighed, watching the wisp of steam from the Hogwarts Express vanish among the hills before turning back to his office, full of silvery nicknacks and his old phoenix, Fawkes.
It was unfortunate because, while he could utilise young Carnac, and spare Harry Potter the dark fate that awaited him, it would come at a cost. One child's innocence for another.
Seating himself, Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers, deep in thought.
He'd need to think on this deeply.
Last edited: Feb 19, 2022
The fairy ring
It's a bit rough, but it'll do.
The sun was bright and the sea breeze mild as I sat on a rock overlooking the English Channel.
Behind me, I felt magic in the air, a slight feeling at the very edge of my senses, like a faint hum or the taste of ozone. Breathing in deeply, I took in the heat of the sun and the tang of salt in the air, all emphasised and intensified by the magic.
The Pleinmont fairy ring, otherwise known as the Table des Pions, is one of my favourite spots on the island of Gurnsey. It doesn't look like much, just a shallow circular trench, surrounded by a ring of stones, but despite its lacklustre appearance, its magic is intertwined with the Island.
"Bloody wind!"
Glancing back, I saw my brother, Giles, in the center of the circle, struggling to control a small stack of parchment in the sudden breeze. We were out here to read over each other's homework, looking for errors and mistakes, but apparently, I'd gotten lost in the magic of the fairy ring.
"Rigidum!" Giles said with a growl. Instantly, the piece of parchment became stiff, almost board-like. "That works," he said, stowing away his wand. "Hey Carnac, if you're having trouble with the wind, I can sort out your parchments!"
"I'm good," I called back. The other reason we were out here was because the natural magic of the area made it impossible for the Trace to detect when we were using our wands.
One of the many benefits of living on an island packed with magical sites.
Leaning back, I basked in the magic, allowing my mind to wander.
There was so much going on. So much to think about; school, a prophecy, a vampire taking interest in me, and beyond all that, the reason I was here; because a ROB made me an offer.
I am Carnac Le Fay for all intents and purposes. I have all his memories, all his connections, and some semblance of his hopes and dreams, yet I only have four and a bit years left on this earth. After the ROB takes me away, what will happen? Will some variation of me be left behind, never knowing if the ROB kept his side of the deal or not? Will the added personality be stripped away, leaving the original Carnac to deal with my mistakes?
"Carnac, what do you think?"
Blinking, I glanced at my brother as he stared at me expectantly.
"Sorry… What?"
Giles sighed.
"For the third time," he said, "what do you think of my essay? Does it seem too wordy to you?"
I looked down at the Transfiguration essay I'd been reading before I'd slipped off into dreamland.
"Sorry Giles," I said, nudging the parchment reluctantly, "I was away with the fairies."
Groaning dramatically, Giles set aside another one of the board-like parchment he'd been reading over.
"Please Carnac, I need all the help that I can get. Professor Chapdelaine is after my head, and if my summer homework isn't perfect, she'll have it!"
"Sorry," I muttered again, staring at the essay blankly, "You know Transfiguration isn't one of my strong points."
"You just get hung up on the process itself," Giles said offhandedly. You're perfectly fine at understanding the theory, which is what I need you to do."
"It's just that I've had a lot on my mind lately," I admitted.
Giles watched me closely as I tried to read over the parchment. Truth be told, I did have a lot to think about beyond ROBs and self-insertion. I was going to have a Dark Lord for a teacher this year after all.
I'd double-checked the staff roster, and it was looking more and more likely that this wasn't some fanon universe, so I was pretty sure that Quirrel's still the one playing sock-puppet to Tommy-no-nose.
"If you need someone to talk to," Giles said, picking up the next parchment, "then I'm all ears."
"I know Giles," I muttered, focusing on his Transfiguration essay, "but I'm pretty sure it's stuff I need to work through on my own."
And thus canon began...
It's mostly filler, but hopefully it's quality enough for you all.
September the first found me on the magical side of platform nine and three quarters, jostling my way towards the Hogwarts Express.
"Mum! Mum! I just saw Harry Potter!"
Scowling, I glanced back at the little kid who was insistently tugging on his mum's robes. I'd hoped to encounter the-boy-who-lived before he got swept up with the Weasleys.
Unfortunately, I'd misjudged the time and here I was; too early to meet Harry Potter and too late to get a good seat on the train.
"I heard he was in Diagon Alley yesterday," I overheard a nearby Ravenclaw gossip with her friend as I tried to push my way down the hallway of the train carriage. "Witch Weekly said he was seen at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor."
"No way!" Ravenclaw's friend gasped. "Are they sure it was him?"
"Yup," Ravenclaw said happily. "They reckon he was wearing a wig to hide his scar."
Rolling my eyes, I lugged my trunk past. Honestly, the rumours I'd heard about Harry were even more farfetched than the gossip about Trocar's disappearance last year.
I knew Harry Potter was a big deal in Wizarding Britain, but the way some people talked about him, you'd think he took down Voldemort with the elder wand clenched in one pudgy hand and Excalibur in the other.
And to think the kid's going to have to deal with all the hearsay on top of fighting Snake-face McGee.
Good luck Harry. You're gonna need it.
Thankfully, I found a cabin with some of my classmates and managed to turn the conversation away from the-boy-who-lived before the stories could get too farfetched. Now, I just had to survive the train ride of rowdy children high on sugar and adrenalin asking about my holidays.
Hermione and Neville didn't show up searching for the toad for some reason, and I was still dwelling on that curious change from canon by the time we got to Hogsmeade Station, although I wasn't too distracted to forget the thestrils.
My school-mates were all weirded out when I began patting the empty air in front of the carriage, but as soon as they realised there was actually something there, they were clambering all around the invisible skeletal horses, asking older students if they knew what was pulling the carriages.
I used the distraction to find an empty carriage, although I was still joined by some older Gryffindors, who spent the entire ride up to Hogwarts theorising about the unseen boney ponies.
Waiting for the sorting ceremony to start, I wondered if it would comply with canon, and as the firsties trooped through the centre of the Great Hall, towards the professor's table, I watched with bated breath, trying to pick out Harry Potter from among the faces.
I didn't think the boy with glasses was him until McGonagall called him forward, and he definitely didn't look like what I expected. He had scruffy hair and round glasses, sure, and he was a bit on the scrawny side, but he seemed so underwhelmingly normal. For some reason, I'd expected the main protagonist of an entire franchise to appear more… unique.
I guess I'd just built him up in my head. Listening to my housemates talk about him as if he took down Voldemort in a wizarding duel, I realised how stupid I'd been to expect more. I'd fallen for the same fallacy trap everyone else had, focusing on his title and reputation while ignoring the fact that Harry Potter is still a little eleven-year-old firstie.
I'll need to remember that.
I only half-listened to Dumbledore's announcement of certain death (that certainly stirred up a few whispers) and then it was off to bed. I needed to sleep and prepare for the year ahead.
Schoolwork quickly fell into a routine.
Herbology and History were meh, Astrology remains the bane of my existence and Potions a struggle.
I didn't know what to expect from Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, but somehow, despite arriving at the first class with an open mind (metaphorically, of course, I'm not giving Voldemort half the chance to mind-rape me) I was still surprised to find Quirrell awkwardly standing behind the desk, holding a rather annoyed looking iguana.
I think everyone was waiting for the punchline., but instead, we sat through an hour of stuttered gibbering about ways to ward off and redirect dark magic.
As the class concluded one brave soul, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw, asked the question on everyone's mind.
"Sir? Why do you have an iguana?"
"W-well, Uh…" Quirrell stuttered, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I-I-I w-was demonstrating how a familiar c-can be u-u-used to draw m-m-malicious m-magic away f-from oneself. D-did I not mention t-that at the beginning o-of class?"
"No sir," Cho replied.
Quirrell was still stuttering out his apologies as the class headed to herbology.
I'll give Quirrell props for his prize-winning acting. The only other option is to consider that he's incompetent, which is just sad.
Despite having small mountain of Homework to struggle through on Saturday, I happily put it aside for something much more important: the Room of Requirement.
Unfortunately, with Voldemort lurking around Hogwarts, I planned to avoid the Room. The last thing I wanted to do was run into the dark lord while he checked up on his tiara.
But before I went cold turkey, I needed to test something.
Pacing in front of the wall, I wished for a passage to the room at the end of the Philosopher's Stone gauntlet.
The door that showed up was black, with an iron doorknob. Peeping through it, all I saw was a stone room with a locked chest in the centre and a curtain of black flames flickering softly in front of the only other doorway.
Hastily, I shut the door, exhilarated. Dumbledore hadn't put the Mirror of Erised in! All that was keeping me from the stone was a booby trapped chest!
Grinning from ear to ear, I backed away from the door as it faded into the stone wall.
I had the cheat code for Hogwarts!
Now… homework.
Dealing with elves
It's a short one today unfortunately. All the same, enjoy.
Before that first weekend finished, I had one more task to complete.
The house-elves were happy to see me back in the kitchens, and Glirus seemed to be the most overjoyed.
"Master Le Fay!" he chirped, as the elves around me offered up platters of finger food, "You's getting skinny! We's need to be fattening you back up!"
"Calm down everyone," I said to the room in general before the elves could renew their efforts to shove food my way. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal after a few days of Hogwarts meals."
The attempts to sneak pumpkin pasties into my pockets abated slightly as the house-elves accepted the praise, and Glirus, thankfully, decided to switch to safer topics.
"Is you going to do more spells?"
"Next weekend," I admitted, "but I actually came down here for something else."
"You's needing help with something?" Glirus asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"Yeah," I said. "I need someone to keep an eye on Quirrell for me."
Glirus narrowed his eyes.
"Why's you want Professor Quirrell watched?" he asked suspiciously.
Wincing, I opened my mouth. Time to start bullshitting up a reason besides 'because he's possessed by Voldemort.'
"Well," I said slowly, "last year, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was a vampire-"
All the house-elves listening in gasped, sharing frightened glances. I soldiered on.
"-and I've heard the job is cursed. I'm just worried Quirrell is a zombie or something and was wondering if you could keep an eye on him."
Wow. That felt like a feeble excuse even to me. And I just made it up!
"He is been working here before!" one of the kitchen hands piped up, coming to the Professor's defence. "He was Muggle's Professor!"
"Muggle Studies," another house-elf corrected. "He's no zombie!"
"Or Vampire!" another elf added.
"Look," I said, trying to salvage the situation, "I've heard rumours. Quirrell spent all last year touring Morocco, Albania, and half the countries in between, studying dark magic. I'm a bit leery of him because of that alone, and with what happened last year, I'm not prepared to let him just wander around Hogwarts unwatched."
"What's happening last year?" a brave soul piped up.
"Last year," I said softly, "Trocar approached me just before the summer holidays. That's when I found out he was a vampire…"
The house-elves listened to my deception with wide eyes.
"I know you all know Quirrell from his time here before," I continued, "but to me, he's an unknown, and as I said, he's been all over the place studying dark magic. I'm just worried, and I don't want to be caught off guard like with Trocar."
All the elves were staring at me in complete silence. Finally, Glirus piped up.
"You's don't need to worry, Master Le Fay!" he said. "I can be watching Professor Quirrell as well as doing my duties!"
Thanks, Glirus, I said, giving him a small smile, and adamantly ignoring the feeling of guilt from my deception.
Despite that, I also felt relief.
Suck it Quirrell! Let's see you sneak around with a house-elf tailing you every step of the way.
Hermione Granger
I'm not entirely happy with this. Does Hermione's characterisation seem right?
The term continued smoothly enough. Harry becoming Seeker was the talk of the school for a while, and there were some rumours about Draco trying to challenge Harry to a midnight duel, but I made sure to stay well away from the-boy-who-lived.
The last thing I want is to be dragged into the chaos of his life.
Occasionally, whenever I knew Quirrell was trapped in an obligatory staff meeting, I managed to sneak away to the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately, those opportunities were few and far between, and the rest of the time, I had to content myself with reading over old books that I'd already liberated from the Room.
Almost before I knew it, it was Samhein.
At the beginning of the year, I was of two minds of how to handle Halloween and the events of canon in general. On one hand, I only had four years to go until the ROB spirited me away. I had no reason to get invested in events and was under no obligation to fight Tom the charlatan.
On the other hand, there was the butterfly effect to consider. I didn't know how my presence was changing events, and I distinctly recall that in the Halloween of Hermione's first year, the Troll was moments away from bashing her brains out. If Harry and Ron are just a minute slower, then I could say goodbye to the timeline and hello to the possibility of Quirrell getting the stone.
On the night before Halloween, I had finished my prepping.
Dumbledore and Snape received a few anonymous messages, warning of Quirrell and the possibility of a Troll in the Dungeons. Messages that I took great pains to make sure had no connections to me. To further cover my bases, I even charmed a bunch of letters with audible and seeking charms to pass on the same warnings to a few of the paintings and house-elves. I would have even brought some of the Hogwarts ghosts in on it as well, but they were all attending a party, so I had to make do with what I had.
I fully expected some of the recipients of my messages to ignore them as pranks, but with the house-elves and paintings at least, I knew they'd take it seriously.
That just left Hermione Granger.
I'd seen her around of course. The little firstie Gryffindor with the bushy hair and buck-teeth. Always by herself.
Just before the feast, I managed to slip away from my dorm mates with some rushed excuses about needing the bathroom, then began to wander around. I wasn't going to rely on the capabilities of Teachers or on firsties defeating a troll. I was going to do this myself.
Unfortunately, I didn't know which bathroom Hermione was hiding away in.
Hogwarts, on an average day, is a sprawling tangle of stone corridors and portrait-lined hallways and empty classrooms, and that's before you get into the shifting layout. It took me half an hour before, steeling myself I turned to the nearest painting.
"Excuse me," I asked a portrait of an old friar, "I heard some Gryffindors made a first-year girl cry and that she's in one of the first-floor bathrooms. Do you happen to know which one that is?"
"Certainly, young man," the friar said, straightening slightly and rubbing his chin. "Now… Sir Regenold did say he saw that event this afternoon… two Gryffindor boys. A boy with scruffy black hair and a redhead with freckles right?"
I nodded, waiting for the friar to get to the point.
"Well now," the friar said, leaning back, "Sir Regenold said that the girl… another Gryffindor with bushy hair? He said she headed down the east wing into the north corridor and went into the bathrooms near the entrance to the dungeons… I'm pretty sure Briary Longbottom mentioned that's the one Hufflepuffs use to get to potions class…"
"I know the one!" I said before the friar could carry on. "Thank you!"
"Don't mention it!" the friar called after me, "and if you need any more help, you know where I'm hung!"
Thankfully, I was quickly out of earshot. Portraits are useful, but they're just so chatty. And they seem to know everything about everyone's comings and goings.
It's a little creepy.
Thankfully, there was no troll at the bathroom doors when I arrived so, hurriedly, I knocked on wood.
"Hermione Granger‽" I half called, half whispered. "Are you in there‽"
She definitely was, as I heard her sobbing.
"Listen," I said, a little more loudly in case she hadn't heard, "are you okay?"
Stupid mouth! There's no time for small talk! I glanced at the stairwell to the dungeons. Still no troll.
Screw it, I'd try and get Hermione out of the bathrooms with a good old heart-to-heart talk. If the troll showed up, then I could drag her out. Or lure the smelly bastard away.
"Who… who's out there?" Hermione finally asked. At last! Some sort of acknowledgment of her hearing me!
"I'm Carnac. Carnac Le Fay. From Hufflepuff."
"Oh…"
Come on girl, give me something to work with.
"One of the portraits told me you were in here," I said, trying a different angle. "He said some of your classmates were bullying you."
"I'm fine!" Hermione announced. I could hear the quiver in her voice.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
Silence.
"I mean," I continued, "some people have it rough their first year here at Hogwarts. Just being so far from home and all that…"
More silence.
"It always helps to have someone to talk to," I prompted.
Even more silence.
I'd almost given up hope of getting Hermione to talk, resolving to instead wait for the troll, when…
"They don't like me."
It was quiet, almost a whisper, but I caught it.
"Who doesn't like you, Hermione?"
"My classmates," Hermione said a bit louder. "They're always talking about me behind my back. I've heard some of the kids from Slytherin calling me a know-it-all, and the girls in my dorm barely talk to me! And when I heard Ron and Harry… I try to talk to people, but they… they think I'm just…" she trailed off with a shaky breath.
Welp, that's a lot to unpack.
"Hermione," I said, scrambling to think of what to say. "Is the issue that people don't want to be friends with you?"
"Yeah," she said weakly.
"If you want," I said, hoping to Puck that I wasn't sounding disingenuous, "you can hang out with me and my lot. We're Hufflepuffs, so we're a lot more friendly than Gryffindors and Slytherins."
Silence. Just long enough to make me wonder that I'd put my foot in my mouth.
"Why?" she asked. She sounded closer to the door now.
"Because no one deserves be treated like you are," I said sincerely. "Plus, I've heard you're pretty smart. I could use someone who I can chat with about magical theory."
I waited for Hermione's response. Had my attempt at levity been a mistake?
"Okay," she said quietly after a long moment of silence.
She came out half a minute later. Her face was wet from where she'd splashed water, and her eyes were puffy and red. She looked at me tentatively and I gave her the thumbs up.
"Right then! Do you want to head back to the Feast now? Or would you prefer to head to the Gryffindor Tower?"
"I… I don't want anyone to see me at the moment," Hermione said softly.
Poor kid.
"We'll head to the kitchens then," I announced. "That way, you can get something to eat."
"Is that allowed‽" she asked, suddenly nervous. "I mean, 'Hogwarts; a History' doesn't mention the kitchens and…"
"Sure it's allowed," I said before Hermione could work herself up. "I go there all the time."
"Okay then…" Hermione said, sounding incredibly unsure.
We took the scenic route. Cutting through the dungeons would have been quicker, but I wasn't stupid or suicidal, 'Troll in the Dungeons' and all that.
We arrived to find the kitchens in chaos. House-elves were scrambling all over, hurling filthy dishes and scrap food across the room with bursts of magic while screaming at the top of their lungs in high-pitched voices.
What the actual fuck‽
"What are they!" Hermione asked, hiding behind me as I stepped into the room.
"House-elves," I said, trying to wave over one of the kitchen hands. "I'll explain later… Oy! Glirus! What in Merlin's name is going on!"
Glirus skidded to a halt, the tray of gravy-covered chicken wings almost flying out of his hands.
"Master Le Fay! You's need be going now!"
"What happened!" I demanded, staring at the carnage. "I've never seen you lot this busy!"
"Peeves wrecked the Great Hall!" Glirus sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "We's need to clean!!!"
"Okay… I'll come down later to see how you're doing…"
Glirus nodded his head frantically, ears flapping with the motion.
Hermione kept watching the elves wide-eyed until we stepped out into the hallway and the painting of the fruit bowl slammed shut.
"Sorry about that," I said, grimacing. "They're normally a lot happier with visitors, but Peeves must have absolutely destroyed the Halloween Feast."
Hermione nodded mutely, still watching the painting nervously.
"There should be some food in Hufflepuff," I said, steering her away. "You can have a bite to eat there, then one of the prefects can take you back to Gryffindor."
Hermione nodded again, glancing back.
"Do they cook all the food?" she eventually asked.
"That, and the cleaning. Glirus, the elf I spoke with, is one of the cleaners for the cellar and lower floors."
"I thought Filch did the cleaning!" Hermione protested.
As we continued along to Hufflepuff, Hermione continued to open up, forgetting her shyness in favour of more and more inquisitive questions.
I humoured her while mulling over my own queries.
Did Peeves wreak havoc in the Great Hall at Quirrell's will? Did Quirrellmort even bring a troll into the castle? And, if so, what was with the changes to canon?
There was food at Hufflepuff, and beyond a few quirked eyebrows, no one said anything about the lion in the badger's den. We're a welcoming bunch after all.
The day after Halloween
I didn't get a chance to dwell on Peeve's Halloween prank and why things were diverging from canon so quickly, as I had Hermione to contend with.
It seems she was more than happy to jump ship from Gryffindor and hang out with us Hufflepuffs.
It was a strange event that morning after Halloween. I was admiring the gouges in the table where I assume cutlery had made a bit of an impact, when Hermione nervously shuffled over and mumbled something about sitting with other houses.
Thankfully, Cedric was there to prevent me from scaring her off.
"Hermione Granger? Right?" he asked.
Nervously, she nodded, giving me a questioning look as if to ask if Cedric was okay.
"I'm Cedric Diggory," Cedric said cheerfully, holding out his hand. "Gabriel, the Prefect who took you back to Gryffindor last night, asked me to keep an eye on you."
Hermione nodded hesitantly.
"You already know Carnac, I see," Cedric continued. "He's a good sort, but a bit of a recluse."
"I am right here, you know!" I spoke up. "And I am not a recluse!"
"You spend more time in the kitchens with those elves than you do in the common room," Cedric shot back with a grin.
"How can I be a recluse then!" I argued. "I never get the chance to be alone in the kitchens-"
"Elves don't count," Cedric interrupted with an eye roll."
I scoffed at him.
"Elves don't count? Fine then, have it your way. I'll practice my spellwork in the Hufflepuff common room next time!"
Cedric's smile turned pained.
"On second thought, perhaps don't do that."
Chuckling, we both glanced back at Hermione who was watching the conversation with confusion.
"He's a bit bombastic with his spellwork," Cedric said wryly. "The elves put up with him, but I think the older years would have something to say if he tried casting bombarda in the common room."
"Do it one time, and you'll never live it down," I told Hermione sagely.
"Anyway," Cedric said, checking his watch, "I have to be off. Remember Hermione, if you need a helping hand just ask a Hufflepuff."
Grimacing at that little gem of alliteration, I turned to Hermione.
"Have a seat," I told her.
Hesitantly, she took one next to me and I buried my head in the book I'd been reading beforehand. Hermione, thankfully, seemed to take it as a cue to pull out her own reading material.
Well now. I could get used to this.
Last edited: May 7, 2022
The terrible twins.
Hahahaha… you fools! No one can have nice things!
I came to several realisations over the course of that following month.
My foremost thought was that I had obliterated the Harry Potter timeline. There is no way I can think of that the golden trio will form now, especially not with Hermione's growing resentment of Ron, and that has all sorts of consequences I don't even want to think about.
As my new tagalong grew more comfortable around me, she began to open up. The discussions were varied, from classes to questions to theories on magic, but one thing that she kept bringing up was the Weasleys.
She liked Percy, but the rest were firmly on her hate list.
"I can't believe Ron!" she said to me one cold day in late November. "He's always going on and on about how hard classes are! If he put in even little effort, he'd actually get good marks, but no, all he wants to do is eat and play chess."
"Uh-huh," I hummed noncommittally. To be honest I was a little tired of the hate. I didn't know any of the Weasleys personally, beyond Charlie, but Hermione seemed to be getting more annoyed with their very presence as time wore on.
"At this rate, he'll be held back a year," she continued. "And I'm pretty sure he's going to drag Harry down with him!"
"Hmm."
"Are you even listening to me!" she demanded.
"Certainly," I replied. "But don't you think you may be going a little hard on Ron? It's his first year after all, and I know it certainly took me a while to get used to the classes and find my feet. Wizarding children don't go to secondary school after all, so coming to Hogwarts is a whole new setup."
"But you figured it out!" Hermione said in exasperation.
"Yeah," I agreed, "but I'm interested in magic. From what you've told me, Harry and Ron don't share that passion, so It'll be harder for them."
Hermione lapsed into a thoughtful silence, which gave me a chance to contemplate the second thing I'd realised about Hermione Granger.
I hadn't considered it at first, but I had been thinking of her as the character seen at the end of the Harry Potter books, instead of as the person she was now.
I'd been thinking of her as the brains of the golden trio and as someone who did the right thing, no matter the cost. But instead, Hermione was a bossy twelve-year-old, who was a stickler for rules, and held education to a high regard while expecting everyone else to do the same.
I felt disappointed, and a little resentful. Mostly towards myself for having unrealistic expectations, but I think Hermione realised something was off and that I was keeping her at arm's length.
I had no right to treat her like that. Not when I was the only person that she seemed to want to spend time with here.
After a long moment of silence, Hermione eventually finished mulling over my little nugget of wisdom.
"You may be right," she acquiesced. "But I still don't think a lack of interest is a good enough excuse to be lazy in class."
"The world needs all sorts Hermione," I told her. "Some are smart, some work hard, and some reserve their effort for the things they're passionate about. It's why we have the four Hogwarts houses after all."
"I think I was put into the wrong house," She muttered softly. I pretended not to hear.
We all have demons that we need to face by ourselves.
"Come on," I said before she could get into too much of a funk. "Let's head to the kitchens. It's been a while since I've visited the elves."
"Okay," she said with reluctance.
As we made our way down into the kitchens, the conversation drifted away from Hermione's annoyance with the Weasleys and onto more academic topics.
"So you're saying that Guernsey isn't part of Magical Britain?" Hermione asked as we wove through the maze of stone-vaulted hallways.
"Kind of," I said. "The British Ministry has the authority and backing of the Royal family, in a magical sense at least, so Crown Dependencies, such as Guernsey, Jersey and the Isle of Man are all technically under the aegis of the Ministry. But, since we've all got old magic that gives us an authority unto ourselves, we're left alone for the most part."
"What about Ireland?" Hermione asked. "Why is it part of magical Britain?"
"Because when the Statute of Secrecy went into effect, it still was part of the regular UK," I said with a grimace. "The border on the magical side just hasn't changed yet. It's unfair, but currently, the nationalism in magical Ireland isn't strong enough to cause a schism."
Before Hermione could begin probing into the rather tender relations between England and Ireland, I stepped up to the entrance of the kitchens and tickled the pear in the fruit bowl painting.
The portrait hole opened, and I ducked inside, freezing at the sight before me.
Two identical redheads stared back, jam scones still hanging out of their mouths.
Behind me, Hermione stepped into the room and froze. Her opinions about the rule-breaking duo were even worse than her thoughts on Ron.
Puck damn it!
"Well lookie here Fred," the twin on the right said, recovering from his surprise first and spitting out the scone. "And here I thought we had the kitchens all to ourselves."
"Funny, I thought the same thing," I retorted back before Fred could say anything. "When did you discover the kitchens?"
"They is visiting since last year!" one of the house-elves said helpfully from under a massive platter of sandwiches.
"Did we just get tattled on by a house-elf?" George asked in shock.
Fred shrugged, choking down his scone. "It seems so."
Stepping further into the kitchens, I realised Hermione was keeping behind me. Was she still traumatised by the house-elves? Or was it the twins?
"So," George said, taking the lead of the conversation again. "What brings you two down here?"
"The food and the company," I said, feeling rather peeved at his casual intrusion of my sanctuary.
All around us, the house-elves watched with wide eyes.
"At least we now know where you were disappearing to all this time," Fred commented. "And I can't blame you, these little guys know how to cook!"
"And no one comes down here," George added. "All the other spots we've found have people lining up to have a private snog."
I heard Hermione scoff behind me.
"So," I said when the twins remained silent. "What now?"
"What do you mean what now?" Fred queried.
"I don't exactly want an audience," I elaborated, "and I doubt you want someone watching over your shoulder when you plan your pranks. So what now?"
The twins shared a glance.
"You bring up a good point," George said. "Especially with Miss I-love-the-rules Granger-"
"If you think I'm just going to stand back and let you lose more points for Gryffindor," Hermione interrupted, "then you have another thing coming."
"Hermione," I said, trying to defuse the situation, but she was having none of it.
"Are you honestly trying to work something out with them‽" she demanded. "They're bullies!"
"Hold up! Time out!" George said. "We're not bullies!"
"We don't target people with our pranks," Fred agreed.
"What about Filch!" Hermione challenged. "What about the Slytherins?"
"You're defending them‽" Fred asked incredulously.
"What about Carnac‽" Hermione demanded.
"Wait! What‽" I glanced at Hermione in confusion. "These two haven't pranked me!"
"Yeah!" Fred said, "Charlie would be pissed off if we did anything to little Le Fay over here."
I sent him a glare to shut him up before turning to Hermione. She looked distressed.
"Hermione?"
"They started rumours about you," she said softly, and with a jolt, I realised she was close to tears. "They kept telling everyone you're a descendant of Morgana Le Fay."
I stared at her, feeling confused. Morgana's only child was Sir Ywain, and he wouldn't have even inherited the title of Le Fay. How did their rumours make sense? And why was Hermione so upset about it?
"It's true though!" Fred said from the background. "Charlie said that you were a Le Fay."
I stared at the twins with an expression of disbelief. Was this why no one was bullying me for my ancestry? Because they thought I had an Arthurian lineage instead of being a descendant from fairies… I guess Le Fay is more of a French thing.
Actually, that explains a lot.
"How are you so composed about all this‽" Hermione asked. "They were telling people you're descended from an evil sorceress!"
Oh shit! Now I get it.
"Hermione," I said softly. "Morgana being evil is just a Muggle belief. In actuality, she helped out King Arthur, and was the one who told him about Sir Lancelot's tryst with Guinevere."
Hermione stared at me, tears in her eyes.
"Why are you defending them?" she asked.
I struggled to think of how to put it into words. I'm pretty sure she was looking at this situation and seeing herself in my shoes. It wasn't a big deal to me, but to her, this was what brought her to tears on Halloween.
And I was just shrugging it off.
"Look, Hermione," I said, trying to piece together my disparate thoughts. "You're overreacting-"
-and fuck my life! Did I really just…
"You're just like everyone else!" Hermione sobbed, before storming out the door. I tried to go after her but the twins were already on me, holding me back.
"Le Fay! Stop!"
"I need to bloody apologise!" I snapped back.
"She won't listen to you!" George said. "If she's anything like our sister, she'll just hex you and keep going. Give it a few days!"
"And figure out what you're going to say first," Fred advised. "Otherwise you'll just sound insincere."
"Puck damn it!" I muttered. "Why in Merlin's name did I say that!"
The twins shared another glance but didn't comment, instead, leading me to a nearby bench.
"I don't know what that was all about," George said eventually, "but don't worry. We'll keep an eye on her in Gryffindor."
I nodded, feeling a little heartened at that. Hopefully, it would be alright.
Hopefully.
Trying for the Stone
The day before the train ride home for the Christmas Holidays I made my way towards the Room of Requirement with a bag full of books and something to prove.
Quirrell was stuck at the end-of-term staff meeting, and I needed something to take my mind off the situation with Hermione Granger.
She was avoiding me. When I'd first tried to approach her a few days after the kitchen event, she'd spotted me, turned around, and walked in the opposite direction.
After the next few attempts to apologise to her had failed, I'd backed off. She didn't want to speak to me, so I wasn't going to impose.
Dismissing those thoughts, I turned back to the task at hand. Stopping in the hallway before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, I waited for a clique of Slytherin third-years to move on before pacing.
"I need to get to the end of the Stones gauntlet," I muttered.
I figured that trying to get past Dumbledore's trap would be a good distraction. It would also give me a chance to gauge my skill level when compared to Britain's greatest wizard.
"I need to get to the end of the Stones gauntlet."
This was my only real chance to go for the Philosopher's Stone. After Christmas, Dumbledore was going to change the test to the Mirror of Erised, and I wanted the stone too much to have a chance of passing that little worthiness test.
"I need to get to the end of the Stones gauntlet."
'Les secrets de la Pierre Philosophale' was my main source of information on the Philosopher's Stone, and it did a good job of painting the stone as an appealing prize.
The process of turning lead into gold through Chrysopoeia wasn't much, as the Room was still packed with unclaimed treasure.
The immortality also wasn't something to write home about. Being reliant on the elixir (Aurum Potable as the book called it) seemed like more of a handicap, especially since in the Fantastic Beasts movies, Nicolas Flamel didn't seem to have retained his youth.
The cure-all, however, was something I found appealing. It would certainly be handy if the ROB kept his promise of multiversal travel.
Shaking my head, I glanced at the black door with the iron doorknob. It was now or never.
The stone room was the same as before. The chest was still in the centre, facing the curtain of black flames.
Stepping into the room, I took off my shoe and wedged it into the door so it couldn't close fully. A quick notice-me-not charm so that no one would notice the door from the hallway, and I was happy to turn back to the chest.
Pacing around it, I wondered what it was rigged with. Was it like a mimic from D ? Like the Luggage from Terry Pratchett's work? That's what I would do if it was my trap.
Stuck to the front of the chest lid, just above the bronze combination lock was a folded note.
Grinning, I backed away and began to cast detection charms.
I'd gotten very good at detecting curses tied to the written letter thanks to my time digging through the Room of Requirement, and I refused to be entranced or blinded by some folded bit of parchment that Dumbledore left there as an afterthought.
After a good five minutes, I'd found nothing. Hesitantly I approached the chest again.
Looking closely at the bronze combination lock, I realised that instead of numbers, it had alchemical symbols engraved into each of the seven slots.
Perhaps that was what the note was for?
Reluctantly, I unfolded the parchment and tried to make out the cursive writing in the flickering torchlight.
'The seven luminaries of the old cosmology are the key.'
I left the note where it was and stood back. Cosmology? I hadn't thought to bring any Astrology books for Dumbledore's test. I knew alchemical symbols matched up with planets. Maybe that's what went into the seven slots.
One way to find out.
Pulling out 'Les secrets de la Pierre Philosophale,' I opened to the page of alchemy symbols and began matching up the slots.
Mercury. Venus. Earth… There was no symbol for the planet Earth, so I went with the character for elemental earth instead. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn… and there was no symbol for Neptune. Why was there no symbol for Neptune?
Trying to figure out what was going on, I shifted it around so the sun was first, and as soon as I'd slotted in Saturn as the seventh combination, the metal flashed white and I nearly screamed.
"Goat shagging son of a Puck damned bastard!" I swore, staring at my blistered finger. "Seriously Dumbledore! A hot lock! Kryono!"
The heat retreated from the lock and I glared at it.
"So, not that order then… Let's do this!"
Heading home for the holidays.
Here's the resolution to that little bit of drama.
I spent the carriage ride to Hogwarts Express that next day hiding my burnt fingers and mentally cursing Dumbledore.
I'd managed to try seventeen combinations before my time had run out, and all I had to show for it were the blisters on my fingertips. I was even starting to suspect Dumbledore had put the note there as a red herring.
Misdirection is the perfect distraction after all.
Pressing my fingers together, I winced at the barbs of pain. Thankfully, the Ravenclaw students I was sharing the carriage with were too busy chatting about the upcoming Yuletide festivities and holiday plans to care about the random Hufflepuff in their midst.
As the carriage pulled to a halt, I held back, not wanting anyone to see my blistered hands. Unfortunately, as soon as the last Ravenclaw stepped out, two familiar redheads poked their heads in.
"How's it Carnac?" the twin on the left said.
"You excited about your Holidays?" the one on the right asked.
"Sure," I said slowly. The twins hadn't talked to me since the issue with Hermione, but I'd seen them watching me in the hallways.
"Hogwarts will just not be the same without you sneaking around the place," the twin on the right - George I think - bemoaned.
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of the kitchens," Fred said with a snicker. "And we'll be sure to tell the elves of your valiant sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" I asked in confusion.
The twins grinned.
"Of course," George elaborated. "You're giving up the wonderful Hogwarts meals for French food!"
"A great sacrifice indeed!" Fred said solemnly.
"But I'm not French!" I objected.
"Shush now," Fred laughed. "You don't have to explain your reasons. We understand."
"But all jokes aside," George said, "We actually came down here for a bit more than chit-chat."
"Yeah! We were hoping to meet you in the entry hall," Fred said jovially, "but you slipped past us. Forced us to come down here in the cold and the snow-"
George smacked his brother in the back of the head, before turning back to me.
"Don't mind him. He's just being a drama queen."
"The betrayal!" Fred wailed. "Oh, brother of mine! How could you?"
Rolling his eyes, George ignored Fred's theatric lamentation.
"We got Percy to check in on Hermione," he said. "She wasn't doing too well. Did you manage to apologise?"
"I tried," I told him, "but she's been avoiding me."
Fred nodded.
"The way Percy told it," he said, "She felt betrayed. Said that she realised that you were just pretending to be friends with her and that you 'showed your true nature' the other day."
The twins looked at me expectantly and I sighed.
"Do you know what happened on Halloween?"
"Of course!" Fred said. "Peeves turned the feast into a food fight!"
"Not that," I muttered. "I mean with Hermione?"
The twins tilted their heads in unison. Watching me questioningly.
"Your brother, Ron, he said some rather hurtful things that Hermione overheard," I elaborated. "Called her a know-it-all. I don't want to divulge too much of what she told me, but it was just the latest of a long line of events that was wearing her down, and she ended up crying in the bathroom."
"I think we may need to have a little talk with ickle Ronniekins after this," Fred muttered.
"I ended up helping her out," I continued, "but… I don't know what I was thinking. I just wasn't prepared to deal with her."
"Deal with her?" George probed.
Shaking my head, I tried to think of how to explain that I'd gone into the whole thing with expectations that didn't hold up to reality.
"Well now," George said after I didn't continue. "It seems to me you need to get your shit sorted Carnac."
"So, Hermione crying in the kitchens was what? Her realising you didn't want her around? Her not liking us?"
"I don't know," I frowned. "I think it was partly because she doesn't like your rule-breaking, and partly because I defended you, but I just don't know."
George watched me with a thoughtful expression, before shrugging.
"Lucky for you," he said, "we're still keeping an eye on her."
"We sent one of the friendlier firsties, Neville Longbottom, her way for help in potions," Fred said. "They seem to be getting along alright."
"Just make sure to apologise," George said sternly. "Now, you'd better get going, or you'll miss the train."
Hastily, I grabbed my luggage together and hurried towards the station, waving goodbye to the twins as I went. They waved back jovially, dispelling the air of seriousness that had mired our conversation.
On the train, I managed to find a quiet apartment with some Slytherins and sat down, deep in thought.
I'd put a bit of thought into how I'd treated Hermione Granger. When I'd first met her, I'd treated her like a character to collect, and once she'd begun to follow me around, and I'd realise she was her own person, I'd held her at arm's length, not sure how to react.
Letting out a shaky sigh, I put my head in my hands, ignoring the burn of my blistered fingers.
I had two options; I could sit there, feeling sorry for myself, or I could try and resolve this mess.
As the train began to move, I stepped out into the hallway and began walking down the train, peering into each compartment I passed.
At the back of the train, I found where Hermione was seated, and with a quick knock on wood, I slid the door open.
"Hermione. Can we talk?"
Before she could respond, the chubby kid she shared the compartment with stood up, barring my way.
"Sh-she doesn't want to talk to you!" Neville Longbottom stammered, hands clenched in fists.
Nodding, I stepped back out of the doorway.
"I just want to apologise," I said sincerely.
Neville glanced back at Hermione, who was still looking at me with wide eyes.
"I wanted to say," I continued, "that what I did was wrong. I disregarded you, and didn't treat you with respect. I didn't know how to handle having someone following me around, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. So, I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want to be friends with me, but the least I can is say I did wrong, and that I'm sorry. "
Hermione narrowed her eyes, scrutinising me. After a long pause, she gave me a small nod.
"I forgive you," she said quietly. "But if you do that again…"
"I won't," I said firmly.
Neville glanced between the two of us before taking his seat, watching me with suspicion.
"I have to ask," Hermione blurted out, "why were you defending the Weasleys?"
Sighing, I shrugged.
"Fred and George… I know their older brother, Charlie. He used to say they were too inquisitive for their own good, and mentioned they experimented with magic…"
I trailed off, realising I'd wanted to befriend them for the same reason as with Hermione. Because of my knowledge of them from the books.
Puck damn I'm a horrible person.
Hermione watched me for a moment, before tilting her head slightly.
"Lavender Brown, one of my dorm-mates, said the twins managed to animate some origami figures with a written charm," she said, looking at me pensively. "Do you think they'd be willing to show how they did it?"
"It's up to them if they want to show their workings," I said hesitantly. "And you know it's all probably going into their pranks."
Hermione nodded, looking thoughtful, and I turned to Neville with a pained smile.
"I'm Carnac Le Fay," I told him, holding out my hand. "I suppose you've heard of me?"
"Yeah," Neville replied, looking at my hand like it was a venomous snake. "I'm Neville Longbottom."
Hopefully, it was only the blisters and not my reputation that was unnerving him.
"Nice to meet you, Neville."
The compartment descended into an awkward silence and I decided I'd overstayed my welcome.
"I'll be off now, you two," I told them, stepping out into the hallway. "I left my trunk unattended with a bunch of Slytherins, and I don't want them getting any ideas. The both of you have a Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," they repeated back as I closed the door.
Walking back through the crowded corridor, I chewed over my interaction with the two Gryffindors and my realisation about the Weasley Twins.
I was forgiven, but I doubt Hermione would forget how I'd walked around on eggshells the entire time she'd been following me.
As for the twins, I would back off a bit. I needed time to see them for who they were, and not who I thought they were.
I hope to Puck I don't make a habit of this.
I have absolutely no personal context for apologies of that significance, so writing that was a pain. Did it seem realistic enough?
The Mirror of Erised
The Christmas holidays passed by far too quickly. My parents asked the usual questions about school, Giles regaled us with stories of his time at Beauxbatons, and I spun tales about how I was finding Hogwarts. It was nice to take a break from the stress and troubles of school, but that respite was short-lived.
Just like with first year, on my return to school, I had to contend with the increased workload, but unlike the last year, I didn't have to suffer through it alone.
"I don't get it!" Neville Longbottom said dejectedly on the final day of term before the Easter break. "Did I get the stirring wrong?"
The two young Gryffindors had actually been the ones to seek me out in the new year. Apparently, whatever residual hang-ups Hermione had about me were far less important than study, and she'd dragged Neville along as well.
"Yeah…" Hermione said, peering at the potions manual as the two of them revised that day's class. "It says here the balding potion needs to be stirred clockwise three times, before one final counterclockwise stir. It doesn't say why though…"
"Clockwise is to reinforce the positive traits of the potion," I said, looking up from my book. "Something to do with the movement of the sun."
"How does that work?" Neville asked hesitantly. The kid had opened up a bit from when I'd first met him, but he was still a little tentative around me. "I mean," he continued, "why does it need good luck?"
I waved the question away in dismission.
"I don't know Neville. Potions is a mess of chemical reactions and ritual magic. I wouldn't worry too much about understanding the inner workings, unless you want to go into that nonsense as a career."
Hermione scoffed at my snub of potions.
"But if he doesn't understand it, he won't know where he makes mistakes!" she complained.
I shrugged. "As I said, understanding Potions is an effort in futility. Go into it at your own risk."
Hermione turned back to the book defiantly, Neville slumped in defeat, and I went back to putting off my Transfiguration essay and enjoying the companionable silence.
I'd missed this. Ever since Charlie and Tonks had left, Cedric had been off with his own friend group and I'd had only the elves to socialise with, so it was nice to just hang out with people. Even if they were firsties.
Slowly, the silence of the Library was broken, and I listened with half an ear as the two began talking about classmates, gossip, and herbology.
"Parvati was telling me the other day," Hermione said quietly, "that her father's thinking of opening up a new business. He does imports, but apparently, his father, Parvati's grandfather, grew Tartary Lambs in India, and so he wants to start growing some here in Britain."
"Tartary Lambs!" Neville muttered excitedly. "They're so cool! My Nan got me one when I was eight!"
"Tartary Lambs?" I asked, putting down my book. "That name sounds familiar… are they like pumpkin plants, except instead of pumpkins, there's sheep growing at the end of the vines?"
"Yeah!" Neville said excitedly. "Their wool can be used for all sorts of things, and it's very magical, so robe-makers always use it for enchanted clothes."
"Really?" I said mildly. I remembered where I'd heard of the Tartary Lamb before. It was one of the plants in my first year of herbology to take a chunk out of my sleeve.
"I've heard they grow fields and fields of them over in India," Neville said happily. "They also grow lots of other cool plants over there, like blue peaches, and snake vines, and Ponticum trees, and-"
"Anyway," Hermione interrupted before we could get too far off track, "Parvati said her dad bought some land in Essex and has planted some local Tartary Lamb plants that can withstand the cold. He's going to try and get a contract with Madam Malkin's or Gladrags Wizardwear to supply them with wool."
"Awesome," I said. "It's good to know people are trying to break into new markets."
"I know right!" Hermione said excitedly.
Ever since mid-February, when we'd begun these little study sessions, Hermione had been showing an unusual interest in magical Britain, and was taking full advantage of Neville and me by asking about how it worked, and about the little cultural norms.
I suspect the inquisitiveness was sparked by my comment about evil Morgana being a muggle thing. Maybe it had made her realise there was a difference between Wizarding and Muggle culture? Whatever the case, she was certainly doing a good job of grasping the subtle nuances between Magical and Muggle Britain.
Shaking my head, I dislodged that contemplation and tuned out the conversation as Neville began to talk about the Indian herbology sector, instead, focusing on my book.
Enchanted mirrors by Rorim Salg, was a random pick from the library shelves, but so far it was proving insightful, especially the bits about using them for scrying.
"Here's something interesting," I said out loud during a lull in the conversation. "Do either of you know why silver hurts werewolves?"
Hermione looked at me expectantly, while Neville looked at me in apprehension.
"Apparently," I said, "silver has rhabdophobical properties. It kind of rejects magic. That's why werewolves can be harmed by it, and why silver mirrors don't reflect vampires, and why goblin silver is so prized."
"Do other metals react to magic differently?" Hermione asked inquisitively.
"I know gold does," I said. "It absorbs magic. That's why the Philosopher's stone is the only way to permanently create gold. Even the gemino charm can only make faux gold instead of the real thing."
"My Uncle Algie once told me about cold iron," Neville contributed. "He said it didn't like magic…"
I tuned out the conversation, skimming through the book. Communication mirrors, talking mirrors, mirrors to reflect the best or worst qualities of the viewer. It all looked interesting.
Flipping the page, I froze. The Mirror of Erised.
"A source of high hopes and unreachable dreams," I muttered, reading out the description. "It unveils the true aim of one's life, as well as the onlooker's greatest weakness."
"Did you say something?" Hermione asked.
"No…" I said thoughtfully, glancing at my watch. Today was the last day before Easter break and, as such, Quirrell was trapped in the end-of-term staff meeting.
I had fifteen minutes until it concluded.
Finding out my deepest desire may actually be useful.
"I've just got to do something," I said, standing up. "I'll catch up with the two of you later?"
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked. "Have you even finished your Transfiguration essay?"
Giving a deflective grin, I shoved my parchments and books into my bag and hurried off. I didn't have much time.
Weaving my way between the groups of students milling in the corridors, I managed to make it to the Room of Requirement within minutes, although waiting for people to clear out of the hallway cost me precious time.
Hastily, I opened the doorway to the end of the Stone's gauntlet and rushed inside, casting the notice-me-not-charm on the door and wedging my bag in the gap, before letting out a shaky breath.
Seven minutes.
Steeling my resolve, I marched around in front of the mirror, and stopped, eyes fixed on the lower frame.
I wanted to find out my deepest desire. It was a spur of the moment decision, but now was my chance to find out what was driving me onwards.
Even so, standing before the Mirror of Erised, I felt anxious. What if my greatest desire was something vapid?
Gritting my teeth, I pushed down that stupid thought. If it was vapid or mundane, at least I would know.
Taking one final breath, I looked up, staring my reflection in the eye.
In the mirror, I was older and dressed in a muggle suit. I was leaning against the railing of a balcony, overlooking a futuristic city. Spires of glass and metal towered above green foliage and the red-tiled buildings that looked straight out of Rome or Paris. Hovercraft whirred overhead, and in the streets below, I could see throngs of people and humanoids and aliens bustling and intermingling in open-air markets and public gardens. It was the city of the future, and I knew, deep in my bones, that this was something I had made.
Blinking, I turned away from the mirror, eyes wet. I wanted to create a city? An empire? No, I wanted to make a legacy millions could appreciate.
"I want to leave my mark…" I realised. "That's why I'm doing all this?"
Thinking back, I remembered the ROB's comment about how he could send me home, but how I'd always have the question about 'what if.'
I stepped back, keeping my eyes on the floor. I could see why the mirror was described as a source of high hopes and unreachable dreams. I couldn't imagine how I'd be able to achieve an empire like the one in the mirror. Not in a thousand years.
Making sure to grab my bag, I shuffled out the door, shutting it with a definite click. I would not be coming back here. The Stone wasn't worth me going through that gut-wrenching depiction of unreachable dreams again.
I needed to clear my head. I had something to strive towards now, but first I needed to survive the ROB's tasks.
Albus's thoughts.
Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stared at the trinket upon his desk, deep in thought. To the casual observer, the gyroscope-like bauble with the glass ball at its centre may have seemed like a curiosity, but to Albus Dumbledore, the fact that the silver circlets around the ball were spinning was a sign of great trouble.
Pulling out his wand, Albus wordlessly tapped the silver device, and one by one, the metal bands slowed their spinning and settled into place. Once the last of the rings had stilled, Albus picked up the curio and peered into the glass ball in the centre.
In it, he saw the stone chamber that held his final trap for the Philosopher's stone, as clearly as if he was peering out from the mirror itself. Pensively, he watched the entryway, waiting for whom-ever had triggered his magical tripwire to step through the black flames.
Instead, something else happened. Someone stepped into view from beyond the scope of the device. It was a student. A familiar student.
"By Merlin," Albus said softly, unable to properly voice his thoughts.
Carnac Le Fay, the possible 'Les fileur de destin,' stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, in apparent indecision.
"Is he there for the stone?" Albus mumbled to himself, watching the young man closely.
The boy seemed to have come to a conclusion on whatever thoughts he was wrestling with, as in a sudden burst of determination, he clenched his fists and glared at his reflection.
No, Albus realized. He wasn't there for the stone. He was there for the Mirror of Erised
Albus sat back, confused and comforted by that.
The boy was curious, and he desired the power of knowledge instead of immortality or riches… but why? And how did he know the Mirror was there? How did he even circumnavigate the gauntlet? Was there a back door?
Stroking his beard, Albus leaned forward to watch as Carnac Le Fay abruptly tore his eyes away from the mirror and strode off, back out of sight.
The boy knew too much, Albus thought, staring at the now empty room, but attempting to approach him could lead to issues.
The last thing Albus wanted was to spook the boy. If Carnac Le Fay took exception to Dumbledore, then that was a bridge burned and a chance to harness the power of 'Les fileur de destin' lost. And if word got out that Professor Albus Dumbledore was paying attention to a single student, a Le Fay nonetheless, then people may begin to ask why.
Frowning deeply, Dumbledore stood and placed the bauble back on the shelf. He'd bide his time for now, and wait for an opening to meet the boy in person, but for now, it would pay to have a painting or two to trail the child.
To find out what other secrets Carnac Le Fay may be hiding.
Last edited: Mar 1, 2022
Quirinus Quirrell
I didn't have long to dwell on my deepest desire, as the final term brought a haze of feverish study, cramming sessions, and then the exams themselves.
Unlike last year, I hadn't put off my study in favour of last-minute cramming, so I was a lot more confident in my results. That didn't mean I enjoyed the stress though.
The night before my final exam, a practical test in brewing potions, I was in the kitchens, trying to relax over a butter beer. I knew I'd probably do fine, but I was still jittery and was taking the opportunity to try and calm my nerves.
I was just about to leave when, with a loud pop, Glirus apparated into the centre of the room, slumping against a table.
"Glirus! What happened‽" I asked as the house-elf stood and began pushing aside his worried companions, making his way toward me.
He looked vacant, his large eyes fixed on me with an absent gaze.
"Glirus! You's not looking well!" one of the kitchen hands said, grabbing Glirus's shoulder. He pushed her aside with a burst of magic and leapt at me.
I didn't even have time to scream, before the air was pressed out of my lungs and I was whisked away, only to be deposited on hard stones moments later, gasping for breath.
"So. You're the one who set the house-elf on me," a familiar voice said.
Still dizzy and short of breath, I stumbled to my feet, glancing around. I was in an empty classroom, and standing before me, barring the door, was Quirrell, staring down at me curiously.
Fuck!
"I must admit that I was expecting someone older," Quirrell said casually, without a hint of his iconic stutter. "When the elf said you were the one who had set him to follow me… well, you can understand my curiosity."
I reached for my pocket for my wand, but it wasn't there. I'd left it in the kitchen! I glanced around hastily, looking for a way of escape, before my eyes alighted on an unmoving figure sprawled at Quirrell's feet.
Quirrell glanced down at my friend with an air of disinterest.
"I must say," he continued in a drawl, "your plan was rather ingenious. No one notices the elves. I uncovered his activities purely by chance, just before Halloween, and at first, I thought it was Dumbledore or perhaps Snape who'd set him to watch me.
Oh god, he's monologuing. But with Glirus still out of it and Quirrell barring the only way of egress, I'd take every second I could get.
"If you knew Glir… the elf was following you from the beginning, why didn't you act earlier?" I asked.
"Because," Quirrell said haughtily, "I was only being followed. There was no real evidence against me, or else I wouldn't have had only an elf on my tail. Regardless, I had to change my plans accordingly."
"You're the one who convinced Peeves to prank the Halloween Feast," I prompted. "Why?"
Quirrell grimaced.
"I had a plan to release a Troll in the dungeons. Unfortunately, with this elf following me, I couldn't be so transparent in my methods."
I bit back a snarl as Quirrell nudged my friend with his boot. He ignored me, opting instead to continue talking.
"If I'd used the Troll, it would have been obvious I was the culprit. After all, all the other professors know I'm good with them, and I even used one as my challenge in Dumbledore's silly gauntlet… So yes I entice Peeves to harass the Halloween Feast, and he proved quite the willing accomplice."
Grimacing, I glanced back to Glirus. Keep talking arsehole.
"You're a curious child," Quirrell said softly. "Very few would think to utilise house-elves. But why the suspicion? For all you knew I was just p-p-poor st-stuttering Professor Quirrell."
He sounded genuinely curious.
"I had a run-in with last year's Defence Professor," I said reluctantly. "Let's just say that I wasn't really willing to trust any new teachers after that experience."
"You were confronted by the vampire‽" Quirrell said in amusement. "Oh don't look so surprised. Professor McGonagall has been complaining about Trocar nonstop since before the year even began… But why was he interested in you?"
I shrugged, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from my brow.
Quirrell's frown deepened.
"If you won't tell me," he said, "I will just have to find out the hard way. Legilimens!"
I clammed up. He'd find out! Voldemort would learn everything! My mind jolted as the spell hit and then-
"What is this‽" Quirrell snarled. "Legilimens!"
I felt another jolt, like I'd been smacked in the head.
"Impossible!" Quirrell screamed, sinking into a duelling stance, wand pointed at me. "How can you know Occlumency‽ You're just a child! Crucio!"
The red bolt hit me and I screamed, consumed by white-hot agony.
"Tell me!!!"
The spell stopped and I felt raw. I tried to stand again, to face the fucker, but every movement sent lances of pain through my body.
"Legilimens!" Quirrell growled again, and again my mind jolted, but even through the burning sensation, I could tell it still wasn't working.
Closing my eyes, I waited for Quirrell to cast crucio again, or perhaps just finish me off. All I could hear was his harsh breathing and then…
"Try a different way."
The voice was cold. A whisper of mild annoyance. I knew exactly who it was.
"Imperio," Quirrell intoned, his voice more steady.
Instantly, my panic drained away and the fear faded. I felt light, and warm, and calm.
"Tell me," Quirrell said, "why the vampire was interested in you…"
Of course. I opened my mouth to explain about the prophecy, but then stopped. Something didn't feel right.
A second passed. Then two.
"Tell me, boy!" Quirrell snapped.
I opened my mouth again, but this time the feeling of wrongness was even more intense. A niggling sense of unease wormed its way through the tranquility of the imperio. It was a feeling that, perhaps, I shouldn't speak.
"The boy is resolute," the cold voice said, sounding amused. "Perhaps he has something to hide after all. Try the elf. I doubt it will be so difficult."
"Legilimens."
The feeling of bliss slowly faded, replaced by dread and a cold, gut-wrenching fear, and I stared blearily at the fucker as the spell hit Glirus.
After a long moment, Quirrell lowered his wand, looking confused.
"Master," he said, "I don't understand-"
His face morphed into an abrupt scowl that cut him off in mid-sentence.
"You know about the Room of Lost Things," he said coldly.
I stared in shock at the man. Voldemort was speaking through the professor.
Fuck! He knew that I'd been to the Room of Requirement! The Room where his Horcrux was!
"Imperio!" Quirrellmort hissed, and the panic washed away, replaced by the calmness of subservience. "Walk to the third floor corridor on the right-hand side that the Headmaster declared out of bounds," he said. "Open the door at the end of the corridor and step inside. You can keep your secrets, but you will serve me. Even if it's to cover my tracks."
With my orders given, I began to walk, stepping over Glirus's still form and past the possessed Professor.
"Deal with the elf," the cold voice said behind me.
The last thing I heard before I was consumed fully by the tranquility of the spell, was the normal voice of Quirrell saying 'Avada Kedavra.'
Then I knew no more.
Resolutions
Waking up was an unpleasant experience, what with the pounding of my head and all that.
I tried to sit up, only for muscle clamps to freeze me in place.
"I'd advise you to rest for now Mr. Le Fay," a soft voice said. "After all, you've been through a rather traumatic experience."
I opened my eyes and clenched them shut immediately. Bloody cruciatus curse. Whoever invented it was one sick fuck. At least I knew who it was at my bedside table.
I knew only one person who was brazen enough to wear such an atrocious magenta robe.
Dumbledore didn't speak for a good long while, letting me suffer in silence and uncertainty for over a minute before he opened his goddamn mouth.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Le Fay?"
"I've been better," I rasped.
Dumbledore gave me another minute of silence and eventually, I felt the need to say something.
"Why are you here?"
"One of my students has been through an atrocious ordeal," Dumbledore said. "Attacked within the vaunted halls of Hogwarts by one of its very Professors. The least I can do is apologise in person."
"What happened to Quirrell?" I asked, opening my eyes long enough to catch Dumbledore's remorseful expression.
"Regrettably, I was away when Professor Quirrell made his move. I was summoned to the Ministry only to find no such letter had been sent. A ploy I now suspect, but that's neither here nor there."
I glared at the man, daring him to continue waffling on and adamantly ignoring the throbbing in my skull. He took off his glasses and polished them, refusing to look me in the eye.
"You and Professor Quirrell were found trying to enter the forbidden corridor," he said softly. "Apparently, Professor McGonagall was ambushed by several rather panicked house-elves about your disappearance. That, along with their description of your distrust of Professor Quirrell, and a separate warning about someone potentially breaking into the forbidden corridor all painted a rather dire picture and forced her hand. Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick were able to get there in time to prevent you from meeting a rather unfortunate end, and even managed to subdue Quirrell. Unfortunately, he passed away shortly afterwards for unrelated reasons."
No mention of Voldemort's wrath I noted numbly. Dumbledore's keeping his secrets close to his chest.
"What about Glirus," I asked, putting those thoughts aside. "He was with me when…" my words died in my throat as Dumbledore shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid," he said slowly, "that your friend didn't make it."
"What…?"
"House-elves are resilient creatures," Dumbledore said, choosing his words carefully. "Unfortunately, the magic Professor Quirrell wielded was corruptive and dark… by the time you were discovered, it was too late for him."
"…."
"We have a great many things to discuss," Dumbledore said, standing up, "but now is not the time. I shall leave you to grieve for your friend… I'm sorry."
I watched the man go, frozen in place.
Voldemort had killed Glirus…
I felt numb. I'd sent Glirus to his death. I hadn't taken the Dark Lord seriously, and an innocent elf had paid the price for my folly.
Gritting my teeth, I was taken off guard by the sudden wave of frustration and anger that cut through the dullness, and, scowling, I glared at the retreating form of Dumbledore.
I blamed myself for letting my guard down. I blamed Voldemort for being the insane pure-blood wannabe that he was, and finally, I blamed Dumbledore for letting him into Hogwarts.
Taking a shaky breath, I pushed aside the roiling resentment and hate. I could be pissed off later.
Now, though, was the time to mourn the dead, and consider what to do next.
The headmaster's message
The final week of school blurred together as a steady stream of well-wishers and curious classmates visited, trying to find out what happened to me and asking if it had anything to do with Quirrell's disappearance.
Madam Pomfrey was a lifesaver during this time, and even though she kicked out Cedric, I still couldn't thank her enough for shooing off the more demanding students.
Neville and Hermione seemed to be my most consistent visitors, and throughout the final week of school, while Madam Pomfrey ran diagnostic test after diagnostic test, they brought books and sweets and chatted away, preventing me from slipping into my angst.
I told them both about what happened, leaving out the bit about Quirrell being possessed (mentioning that seemed like an easy way of earning Dumbledore's ire), and Hermione seemed thoroughly disappointed in the Defence Professor for making me miss my potions exam. The fact that I'd gotten an Acceptable based on average grade, from Snape of all people, didn't mollify her.
"I can't believe the rumours!" she said one fine afternoon before my final checkup. "Some of them are ridiculous! Did you know that Seamus Finnigan has been telling people that Professor Quirrell was a zombie and ended up biting you!"
"Welcome to Hogwarts Hermione," I told her dryly, "where the gossip is excessive and common sense is left at the door."
Neville snorted, and Hermione shot him an exasperated glare before turning to me.
"How are you so calm about this?" she demanded. "First it was the twins, and now everyone's talking."
I shuffled, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. This was giving me flashbacks to the kitchen.
"Words on the wind," I finally offered. "I'll be worried when the Dailey Prophet starts harping on about it, but until then, I'm happy to let it pass. Who knows, some of the stuff going around could add to my clout. The twin's stories about me being Morgana's descendant certainly did."
Hermione didn't look satisfied, but she let it rest, and I let out a deep breath. That could have gone south fast.
Eventually, the two Gryffindors were shown the door by Madam Pomfrey and she began her routine of charms to find out if there was any permanent damage from the two unforgivables used on me.
"Normally," she said, consulting her clipboard, "the cruciatus curse causes brain damage and the Imperius curse can have long-term effects on mental health. You were only briefly under Quirrell's influence, but we've found a few abnormalities in your mind."
I froze, watching Madam Pomfrey closely.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Somehow, the magical regions of your brain have become warped," she explained, putting down the clipboard. "Currently, your mind resembles that of an adult instead of that of the average thirteen year old."
Immediately I was on edge.
"The 'Memoria' region in the hind-brain looks like it belongs to a master Occlumence," she continued. "Your 'Estimatia' region is more developed than one would expect and your 'Yimagi' region at the front of your brain is healthy for an adult, but for a child your age, it is woefully underused."
"Could you explain that in layman's terms?" I asked.
"Your memory is near perfect, your reasoning is at an adult level and your imagination is not as good as other children's," Madam Pomfrey said briskly.
That gave me pause. Did she just discover I had an adult's brain and chalk it up to magic?
No… that can't be it. She said my memory was like a master Occlumence's, and I certainly hadn't practiced mind magic.
I guess I could just blame it on the ROB until I found out otherwise.
"Whatever the case," Madam Pomfrey said briskly, "It doesn't appear to be life-threatening. Just a case of you having a fully developed mind. Tell me, does your family have a history of talent with mind-magic? If it's a latent ability, that would certainly explain it."
I shrugged, uncertain.
"Oh well," Madam Pomfrey hummed. "If you notice any issues with dulled emotions or deteriorating memory, then come and see me immediately. Otherwise, you should be good to go."
"Well isn't that marvellous news."
Dumbledore stood in the doorway, smiling happily while his eyes twinkled like mad.
How long had he been there?
"I'm glad to see you're on the road to recovery, my boy," he said as Madam Pomfrey bustled off. "I must commend you on your newfound talent. I too am schooled in the art of Occlumency. It truly does come in handy for remembering details and setting aside emotions."
I watched the man as he took a seat beside my bed.
I distrusted him, I'd read too many manipulative Dumbledore fanfics to do otherwise.
Now, lying there in the infirmary, I could think of a hundred ways to blame him for the current circumstances, starting with him drawing Voldemort to Hogwarts in the first place.
"I believe it is time we had a short talk about several rather important matters," he said after he'd gotten comfortable. "We have much to discuss."
I tensed.
"I've been speaking with the house-elves," he continued, watching me closely. "They mentioned you asked Glirus to follow Professor Quirrell at the very start of the year. Why?"
I decided on a partially honest answer.
"After Trocar, I didn't really trust your choice of Defence teachers."
Dumbledore winced. A twitch that he quickly hid, but I saw it.
"Yes. I suppose that would be more than enough to erode anyone's faith in me. But you must understand, It's been difficult to find people willing to apply for Defence Against the Dark Arts these last few years-"
"Because of the curse," I stated.
Dumbledore's expression sharpened.
"You know about that?"
My bloody big mouth!
"Yeah. It's common knowledge," I said, backtracking. "It's a rumour, but it makes sense."
I could see Dumbledore wasn't convinced, but he didn't continue to probe.
"I've cleared things up with your parents," he said, changing tracks. "They wanted to transfer you to Beauxbatons after they heard what happened. It took a bit of convincing to get them to reconsider."
I nodded slowly.
"Thank you for that," I said simply.
"Think nothing of it, my boy," Dumbledore said happily. "While Beauxbatons is a fine school with a storied history of its own, I felt that maybe you would want to have a say in whether you wanted to stay here or not."
Frowning, I watched the man. Was he trying to build a rapport with me?
Dumbledore looked like he was going to say something more, but as soon as he caught my expression he paused.
"I think that will be all for today," he said finally. "I'm glad you're on the road to recovery, Mr. Le Fay, and I look forward to seeing you next year."
I nodded, and the Headmaster stood and turned to the door.
"Oh! One final thing," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I'd advise you against continuing your extracurricular spellwork in the kitchens, at least not without a teacher supervising."
With those final words of consideration, he was off, leaving me to mull over everything.
The train ride back to London was hectic until I managed to find an empty compartment and locked the door, covering the windows to keep everyone away and give me time to think.
My Summer was going to be suffocating, especially with my parents aware of what happened, but that wasn't my biggest concern.
My biggest concern was Dumbledore. He'd taken an interest in me, and probably knows every spell I've practiced in the kitchens from the house-elves… My thoughts turned back to Glirus and I winced.
This year, I'd only focused on avoiding Voldemort, and keeping an eye on him. Half-hearted measures for a threat I thought I'd be able to avoid.
Now though, I couldn't just look the other way and I definitely couldn't just let things play out. Now was the time to act.
Plus, now it's personal.
Preparing the Plan
Summer, as always, was a lazy affair.
Homework was done, all the old sights on Guernsey had been visited, and I was bored out of my mind.
"Carnac, I'll be heading off soon," Mémaen said as she moved around the kitchen, grabbing her Gringotts key and apparition license. "Are you sure you don't want to come to Paris with me?"
"Yes Mémaen," I replied. "Père said he'd take me to Gringotts. Plus, If I go with you, I'll be stuck waiting for you to finish work."
"I thought you liked my work," Mémaen said with a teasing smile. "I remember when you were little. You kept begging me to bring you back a new toy every day."
"I'm a little bit old for enchanted toys nowadays," I told her dryly.
"No one's ever too old for a little fun," she shot back.
I rolled my eyes and went back to examining the morning newspaper, trying to ignore the thoughtful look my Mémaen was giving me. She'd been like that ever since I'd gotten home from Hogwarts, watching me in uncertainty as if she wasn't quite sure how to treat me anymore
"I must be off now," she eventually announced, glancing at her watch. "You behave yourself, and enjoy your day!"
"I will Mémaen," I told her as she bustled out the door.
That was another reason I wanted to go to Paris with Père; he was coping with what happened in my last year by adamantly ignoring it. That was something I could get behind.
As soon as I heard the crack of Mémaen apparating away, I dropped all pretence of reading the newspaper and pulled out the book I'd been hiding from under the tablecloth.
Père wouldn't be up for another twenty minutes, and my brother, Giles, was away visiting friends. That meant I had a chance to prepare for this year.
Mycenaean Magic was the tome of the day, and one of the few that I'd managed to sneak out of Hogwarts, and It was definitely something the Ministry would classify as dark.
Basilisks, Horcruxes, and other dark magical creations of Herpo the foul were all covered by the book, along with a bit too much background information for comfort. The book doesn't directly explain how to make a Horcrux, or breed a basilisk, but I now know how to make what are basically greek voodoo dolls (kolossoi) and curse tablets (katares).
Propping the book on the table, I read through the entry on basilisks for the umpteenth time, focusing on its two main weaknesses; roosters and weasels.
After last year, I refused to let someone else die needlessly. I was going to nip Riddle's plot in the bud and exterminate that abomination of a book before it had a chance to release the basilisk.
I don't think I'd be able to take the guilt if I failed.
I pushed aside the feeling of remorse with well-worn familiarity. Now was not the time to dwell on past mistakes.
"Morning Carnac," Père striding into the room.
"Morning," I repeated back, mentally cursing myself for being caught unaware. How had I not heard him? I couldn't let him find out what I was reading!
"Lovely weather this morning," Père said, peering out the window, completely unaware of my internal swearing. "Hopefully it stays like this all day."
"Yeah," I agreed, sliding the book onto my lap while his back was turned. "You reckon it'll be busy in Paris?"
"Probably," Père grunted, slumping down into the seat opposite me with a plate of toast. "You got everything you need ready? Your school list? Gringotts Key?"
"Yes Père," I said.
"Good to hear. We'll set off once I've finished off this."
The table descended into silence as Père calmly read the paper and I tried not to think about the illegal book of dark magic on my lap.
"That's interesting," Père eventually said. "'Qualité Potions' is having a sale on alchemy kits this week. I may pick up one. I took Alchemy at Beauxbatons, and I'm sure I still remember all the basics."
I nodded, and again, the conversation trailed off.
Apparently, while Quirrellmort hadn't gotten anywhere near the stone last year, Dumbledore had still had a talk with Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel about it. They'd announced their retirement from life just before the end of the school year, and that had started a rush as Alchemy enthusiasts decided now was the time to try and recreate the Philosopher's Stone and other alchemical marvels. I have no idea if that happened in the canonical universe, but the trade of alchemical materials is booming.
"Do you think that's something you'd like to get into?" Père asked, pushing the paper towards me. "I know Hogwarts doesn't offer alchemy classes until sixth year, but if you're interested, I can buy you some supplies to experiment with in your free time."
"I'll probably have my hands full with Ancient Runes and Muggle studies," I said reluctantly.
To be honest, I'd looked into alchemy when researching the Philosopher's stone, but it'd seemed a bit like Potions to me. There were just too many magical materials required to make it viable outside the Potter universe. I mean, Basilisk powder? Occamy silver? All of it was limited to this reality.
"Come now," Père said. "At least give it a try. I remember when I was your age, trying to make knockoff floo powder and orichalcum."
"Fine," I said. "I'll try it out. Might as well since it's so cheap."
Père grinned at me. "We'll grab it after Gringotts. Now you'd better have everything prepared, we'll be leaving in five minutes."
The magical commercial centre of France, Place Cachée, is nothing like my recollections of Diagon Alley.
For one thing, the entrance isn't some dingy pub, and is instead, more akin to platform nine and three-quarters.
"Hurry now Carnac," Père said, striding through the throngs of muggle Parisians. "Our appointment at Gringotts is at ten. Dear Puck, I hate being on the Muggle side of things."
I couldn't help but agree. After so long in Wizarding Britain, I felt out of place in the muggle world. Even seeing people in form-fitting clothes instead of robes seemed strange.
"Why didn't we just apparate in?" I asked as we turned onto Rue Richer. "Or take the floo to the Place Cachée termanal?"
"I checked the before we left," Père sighed. "Apparently you were right about it being busy. The floo will be clogged up with people coming in and out, and I don't want to even attempt apparating into the middle of that hubbub. I just hope there aren't too many people clogging up the main entrance."
There were.
In the centre of the rue, perched upon a plinth draped with folds of bronze clothe, sat the gatekeeper to Place Cachée, Pythia the statue. Milling around her were numerous uncomfortable-looking wizards and witches, all waiting to be let in.
"Puck damn it!" Père swore softly. "Come on Carnac. Hopefully, we won't have to wait long."
As we approached, Pythia smiled down at us and pulled aside the folds of her draped dress to let out a small group of shoppers from Place Cachée before beckoning us all in through the magical entrance.
"Thank you," I said to the smiling statue as I passed through to the wide cobbled avenue on the other side.
"I don't know why you do that," Père muttered to me in French as we began weaving through the throngs of magical shoppers. "It's just a statue after all."
"Because," I muttered back, "I've learned that paintings and statues can be very helpful the more polite you are to them. They certainly helped me out in my first year at Hogwarts."
Père made a face, but blessedly, didn't continue.
Around us, people of all backgrounds mixed and mingled.
Unlike my recollections of Diagon Alley, Place Cachée was crowded with other beings, besides witches to wizards. Goblins and dwarves scowled at each other as they passed by, house-elves popped back and forth as they went about their daily chores, and there was even a centaur, who seemed deep in conversation with several befuddled hags.
"Come now Carnac," Père said, interrupting my people watching. "Fifteen minutes until our appointment, and you know how goblins can get. We'll do your shopping afterward… is there anything besides school supplies you wish to buy?"
Nodding, I glanced down the avenue. Wedged between a magical greengrocer and a butcher selling Sæhrímnir pork was a store that I'd passed by a thousand times before. A store that was essential in me taking down the basilisk.
"I was thinking of getting some enchanted glasses," I said.
Lee, Luna and Lockhart
By September the first I was ready for the new school year and the challenges it'd bring.
I found an empty compartment and settled down to fiddle with my new glasses when a familiar-looking face appeared at the door.
"Hey, you're Carnac Le Fay? Right?"
I nodded, glancing at the guy's red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. Maybe he knew the Weasley twins.
"I'm Lee. Lee Jordan," the guy said, shuffling into the compartment. "I'm one of Fred and George's friends."
"Nice to meet you I guess," I said uncertainly. I didn't know why he was being so friendly.
"The twins keep telling these mad stories about you," Lee said, taking a seat opposite to me. "They say you knew their brother, Charlie…"
"Um… yeah," I said, still not sure where this conversation was going.
"Is it true you blew up the kitchens in your first year?"
"…"
I was not expecting that.
"I learned bombarda in my first year," I clarified, "but I don't think the house-elves would allow me to leave in one piece if I blew up the kitchens."
Speaking of which, would the elves even let me practice in the kitchens this year? Maybe it was best to avoid them with Dumbledore inquiring… Plus, they probably blamed me for getting Glirus killed.
Lee continued to chat away, asking about Quirrell and what other magic I could do, and why I had such weird, steampunk-looking glasses.
"They're enchanted," I told him. "They're kind of like the ones the goblins at Gringotts wear, in that they can see magic."
"I didn't know the Goblins had that sort of equipment," Lee said curiously, examining the glasses. "I guess it makes sense since they probably have to handle all sorts of cursed artefacts… but these look telescopic?"
"Yeah. It's got several layers of charms and silver-backed reflective lenses to deal with nastier visual curses."
Like the ones I still haven't figured out on some of the books in the Room of Requirement. Or a basilisk glare.
"Cool," Lee said, handing the glasses back to me. "Hey, did you catch the quidditch game last week? The one between the Kenmare Kestrels and the Ballycastle Bat's?"
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as the train lurched forward, and Fred and George stumbled into the compartment.
"Hey Lee! How's it going Carnac‽" Fred panted, slumping down next to me.
"Apparently Ron and Harry got stuck on the other side of the platform entrance!" George announced, sitting beside Lee. "We almost missed the train because Mum wanted us to wait for them."
Hastily stashing away the glasses, I listened with half an ear as the twins recounted the events with exaggerated arm movements.
I'd completely forgotten about Dobby's attempt to stop Harry from attending Hogwarts. It was just so irrelevant compared to this year's challenges.
"You do anything over the holidays, Carnac?" George asked eventually.
"Nah. I basically stayed at home for the whole of it," I told him. "I spent most of my time practicing spells"
"Oh come on Carnac!" Fred complained, "did you seriously spend your time, free of school, forcing yourself to learn new magic‽"
"You keep going like that and you'll end up like our brother, Percy," George warned.
"Yeah," Fred agreed, shivering dramatically. "Talking about homework, and responsibility, and the dream of working for the Ministry."
"How about next time you decide to do something so irresponsible, you let us know," George chided. "If it was boredom that drove you to that, you could've just visited us, you know."
That gave me pause. I liked the twins, but I didn't realise they considered me that close a friend.
"Yeah!" Fred agreed, warming up to the idea. "After all, our brother got to have his friend over! Why couldn't we‽"
"I'm going to pretend like you're not forgetting about my existence," Lee said dryly.
"We could have gotten two friends over if we tried hard enough!" Fred wailed.
"Probably not, Harry's a special case after all," George contradicted.
"Alright you two," Fred said, looking between Lee and me. "If we can only have one friend over this summer, you'll both have to win our favour, and earn that coveted position."
Lee and I glanced at each other, sharing an exasperated look at the twins' antics.
After a while, the twins got bored and dragged Lee off to prank some Slytherins, and I was left to my own devices. I'd just cracked open a book on warding when Cedric stuck his head in the door.
"Hey, Carnac. Sorry to be a bother, but could you do me a favour?"
"Sure thing Cedric," I nodded. I hadn't really spoken to him last year, so I wondered what he wanted. "What do you need?"
"Sorry about this. I've promised to help Rhonda with patrolling the corridors, and I need someone to look after my neighbour for a while. She's a first-year, so it'd be a great help if you just kept an eye on her and answered any questions…"
I shrugged. No idea who Rhonda was, but keeping an eye on a firstie seemed easy enough.
"Sure. I can do that."
"Thank you so much!" Cedric grinned. "Her name's Luna Lovegood. I'll just go and get her!"
Luna Lovegood. Of course it'd be Luna. Cedric had no other neighbours besides her and the Weasleys.
Cedric bustled back a minute later, with a little blond-haired girl. Placing her trunk in the racking, he thanked me, said goodby, and hurried off.
Luna stared at me the entire time.
"Are you a Djehuti?" she finally asked.
Okay then. She's exactly as crazy as the books describe.
"I don't think so," I mumbled, really unsure about how to talk to this girl. "What's a Djehuti?"
"A spirit of knowledge and magic," she replied. "Are you sure you're not one? They're supposed to be birds, but my Daddy said they can make themselves look like people to hide."
I blinked. Luna stared at me expectantly.
"I don't think I'm one," I repeated. "I do have some fae ancestors if that helps."
"Like Heliopaths‽" Luna asked.
"No. Sea fairies. The Arragouset."
"So you must be the natural enemy of Heliopaths," Luna muttered, as if I'd confirmed her suspicions. "Are you part of the Rotfang conspiracy?"
I was out of my depth here.
"No?"
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
Silence descended and I wondered if it'd be rude to go back to reading. What was Luna interested in in Canon besides conspiracy theories? Zoology?
"Hey, Luna. Have you ever heard about the platypus?"
The conversation that followed was intense, and while Luna did try to broach the topic of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I managed to steer the conversation away from that just in the nick of time.
Luna was trying to convince me of the existence of fish-tailed beavers when we arrived at Hogwarts, and I had to pinky swear to continue the discussion later in order to get her to follow Hagrid to the boats.
How a pureblood knows the dark ritual of pinkie swearing is beyond me.
I snuck the thestrals a ham sandwich and ended up in the same carriage as Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.
Hermione gave me an inquisitive look as I hopped into the carriage. Probably wondering what was making the munching sounds outside. Neville, meanwhile, stared at me in horror. I guess I'd offended his sensibilities by feeding the bony ponies. Tough.
The Hogwarts feast was normal enough, although I had to listen to half-a-dozen vastly different rumours about the platform nine and three-quarters incident, and another few speculations about the new Professor Lockhart, and Snape's absence from the staff table.
"Are you excited about Professor Lockhart teaching us?" Hermione asked, at the edge of her seat as she spoke across the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. "I've read all his books! He's just so amazing!"
"I just hope he doesn't bring any of the creatures here," Neville said softly, and I had to lean forward to hear him over the hubbub of people talking. "I had nightmares about gytrashes after reading 'Marauding with Monsters.' I live in Wiltshire, so we're pretty close to the forest where that happened."
I was so tempted to break the news to the two that Lockhart was nothing more than a useless fop, but as Hermione continued to talk on and on, I decided against it.
For one, I didn't have a good track record of judging the consequences of my actions, and if word got around that I was calling the professor a fraud, then I may come down with a sudden case of amnesia.
I leaned back, resigning myself from the conversation, content to watch as Neville began to shakily talk about his encounters with the magical vermin from Lockhart's guide to pests. I had too much on my plate to distract myself with frivolous fights with fake celebrities.
Plus, this would be a good life lesson for the two. After all, in the wizarding world, it is never a good idea to take things at face value.
Last edited: May 7, 2022
Wandless magic and miraculous herbs.
Four weeks into the term, I felt antsy.
Sitting in the great hall, I nursed a cocoa and contemplated what needed to be done.
The classes weren't an issue. I had a solid understanding of the theoretical side of them all, thanks to my extracurricular reading, so even in my more challenging classes, like potions and transfiguration, I was racking up an average score with little effort.
With Lockhart, I wasn't even bothering. After the disaster with the second years and the Cornish pixies, he'd made it the mission of each lesson to assign us classwork, and then spend the remainder of the time interrupting every five minutes with some inane comment.
I was contemplating murder, but unfortunately, the fop was always surrounded by self-portraits and squealing fangirls.
I a guy can dream though.
With for my two new elective classes, Ancient Runes and Muggle studies, I was managing, but neither was quite how I'd expected them to be.
In Runes, Professor Babbling spent half of every lesson talking. It was interesting, sure, but the way she described it we'd only be covering how to read runes that year, with runic magic being next year's focus. Another thing to research in my own time.
In Muggle studies, Professor Sikander covered the basics, from microwaves to roller skates. All I could really say about his classes was it was weird to see all the antiquated muggle items, especially since in my first life, all these things were long since discontinued or retrofitted. I mean, I actually learned how to use a rotary phone. Too bad it'll be obsolete in a few years.
Leaning back, I turned my thoughts to the Plan. It was not going well.
I knew Ginny had the diary. I was prepared, with everything I needed to kill the basilisk… but I was being watched.
I'm pretty sure Dumbledore set some portraits on me.
I only really see them out the corner of my eye, trailing behind me as I make my way to classes each day, but knowing they're there has me on edge.
I know all the shortcuts that don't have paintings for the portraits to follow me through, so I could just avoid them, but if I do that it'll just make it obvious I'm aware of my unwanted pursuers.
I'm running out of time. It's almost the end of September and I vaguely recall that the basilisk is let out in mid-October to wander through the pipes and that Ginny petrifies the cat on Halloween. At the moment, I'm keeping up a routine and biding my time. Paintings have to sleep, after all, so if I time it right, I can finish this all in one night and Dumbledore will be none the wiser.
Something ruffled my hair, and I swung around to find Luna, standing there, watching the air above my head with mild concern.
"The wrackspurts are back again," she said finally. "I think you have an infestation."
I quirked an eyebrow in question, which she ignored, instead, sitting down next to me and pulling out that morning's Quibbler.
Shaking my head I went back to my cocoa. Getting answers out of Luna Lovegood was like drawing water from a stone. I mean, I still haven't even gotten her reason for why she kept following me around. Her only response to when I'd asked had been; 'Cho Chang says I'm always away with the fairies, and you're a fairy.'
Shaking my head to dislodge the thoughts of Luna's strangeness, I went back to my cocoa. I couldn't really do anything without Dumbledore knowing, so my visits to the Room of Requirement and my non-curricular spellwork were both off the table.
So I had to entertain myself in other ways.
Putting down the mug, I stared at it, focusing on the swirling steam and the convection currents within the drink.
There's a scene in the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, where an unnamed character in the Leaky Cauldron was stirring his drink wandlessly. For some reason, the article on Pottermore made him out to be a big deal, but I bet I could do that.
Slowly, still focusing on the swirling liquid, I placed a spoon into the mug. It was goblin-silver, so it'd probably be a bit more difficult to move than plain old stainless steel, but I had confidence.
I placed my hand over the mug and began to run my finger around the rim, trying to feel for my magic.
Slowly, the cocoa began to spin within the mug and the steam twirled into a thin ribbon of white, but the spoon didn't move. Removing my finger from the mug, I continued spinning my finger, focusing on the spoon alone.
A minute passed. Then two. Nothing happened. I knew silver had rhabdophobical properties and didn't like magic, but-
The spoon tinked against the rim of the mug, shifted slightly.
Grinning, I stared at the mug. It wasn't some big show of magic, like my reparos or bombardas, but I needed to work on fine-tuning my magic instead of brute-forcing my way through everything.
And wandless magic was just the beginning.
By the time Neville and Hermione showed up for breakfast, I had moved on to making breadcrumbs hover inches above the table by just holding a hand over them while trying to focus on a conversation with Luna.
"Hey Carnac. Luna," Hermione said, taking her customary seat across the row at the Gryffindor table. "What are you talking about?"
"Carnac says that the muggles think griffins were actually a dinosaur," Luna said keenly. "Proto-sarah-op-torus, he called it."
"Protoceratops," I corrected. "We were just comparing the muggle and wizarding understanding of the world, and I thought it was interesting that the muggles have explanations for real magical creatures. Plus, I wanted to know if luna had heard about dinosaurs before."
"Dinosaurs?" Neville asked.
"Ancient reptiles that used to rule the earth long ago," I said offhandedly.
"They're all dead though," Luna said sadly. "Unlike griffins. I like griffins. I once found a magpie nest with some pretty blue buttons, and I've always wondered what sorts of shiny things griffons collect."
"According to Hogwarts; a History, Gryffindor kept several griffins in the Forbidden Forest for hunting," Hermione contributed. "That's how it got its name; because it was forbidden for others to hunt there."
"Cool," I said. "Anyway, I have a question for you Neville."
Neville stared at me, caught off guard.
"This talk of muggle myths and wizarding history made me think. In the muggle world, there's a myth about a witch called Circe. I know she's real since there's a chocolate frog card about her and everything, but in the myth, the hero of the story uses a herb called moly. Have you heard of it?"
"Yeah," Neville said, looking contemplative. "I think it went extinct… the Romans overused it, and wiped it out, like with silphium and lemure beans."
I stared at him incredulously. I was going to ask how come such a powerful herb wasn't in use anymore, but I did not expect that answer.
"Just to be sure, we are talking about the same plant, right?" I asked. "The white-flowered, black-rooted plant that can't be picked by mortals? The one that allowed Odysseus to resist Circe's magic?"
"Odysseus?" Neville asked.
"Odysseus is the hero of an ancient Greek muggle myth called the Odyssey," Hermione explained. "In it, Odysseus ends up angering the Greek god, Poseidon, and spends years trying to sail home from the Trojan war."
Neville looked even more lost with that explanation.
"In the myth," I said before Hermione could confuse him further, "Odysseus ends up on Circe's island, where she turns his men into pigs using some sort of potion and a transfiguration spell. Odysseus is spared that fate because he's given moly, which prevents the potion from weakening his mind, which in turn, means Circe couldn't enforce her will over him."
"That sounds like moly," Neville said cautiously. "I mean, the Romans used it to ward off dark spells. It could only be picked by a wizard though, through magic. If you pick it with your hands the magic doesn't work."
I held up a hand before Hermione could begin asking questions, and rubbed the bridge of my nose, accidentally ending my wandless levitation spell on the crumbs.
"So, you're sure that moly is extinct?" I asked.
"Yeah."
This had better not be something the wizarding world had just missed because of the general disdain for muggles.
"Neville, I'm pretty sure molly is still alive and well."
"What!" Neville exclaimed. "What do you mean‽"
I rubbed my eyes. Honestly, I know it's a meme that wizards are stupid, but if I'm right…
"Next holidays," I said, "go into muggle London and find a flower shop. Ask if they've got a flower called snowdrop. If I'm right, then that's just the muggle name for molly."
Neville stared at me, bug-eyed.
"Why is moly so important?" Hermione asked inquisitively. "I mean, I guess it's cool if it isn't extinct, but why is it such a big deal."
"Hermione," I said, feeling done with wizards for the day. "During the Early Roman Empire there were no records of dark wizards within the Empire itself. I suspect that they may have used molly to achieve that track record."
Neville, Luna, and Hermione stared at me incredulously, and I leaned back, absolutely out of fucks to give.
If I was right, then this would be bigger than the Alchemical revolution going on in France.
If I was wrong, though, well… that would be embarrassing.
Last edited: May 7, 2022
Hogsmead
Walking down the path to Hogsmead, I felt anxious, hands shoved deep into my pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold autumn wind.
Today was the day I'd sort out the Basilisk and Riddle. By this time tomorrow, it'd all be over.
"You okay there Carnac?" George asked, striding along beside me.
"You worried about Hogsmead?" Fred queried with a laugh.
"No," I said. "I'm fine."
"You don't look it," George commented. "Something on your mind?"
Shaking my head, I plodded on in silence. I'd have to deal with their sister tonight. I didn't want to harm Ginny, but I had to get the diary from her for the Plan to work, and I doubted she'd just hand it over.
"So, what's your plan for today?" Fred asked, switching topics.
"I've got some shopping to do and a letter to send," I said vaguely. "Boring stuff."
"Boring indeed!" George chuckled, nudging me in the ribs. "Come on Carnac! What have we told you about working all the time?"
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Fred agreed. "Honestly Carnac, it's Hogsmead! You should be checking out the Shrieking Shack, or Honeydukes, or Zonko's! Not running errands."
"Brother of mine," George said, dropping his voice to a murmur, "I do believe little Le Fay here needs to be shown how to properly enjoy Hogsmead."
"Quite right George," Fred agreed. "Plus, with Lee off on a date, we need someone to help us carry our shopping!"
"If you think I'm going to be your pack-mule today," I interrupted, "then you're sorely mistaken."
"Hush now Carnac," Fred said. "This is for your own good!"
Hogsmead was more colourful than I expected. The township itself was dull, a sprawling maze of slate roofed stone buildings, but cutting straight through the centre of it all was the main street.
Walking through the throngs of Hogwarts students, I couldn't help but stare. Glossy-red window frames displaying stationery, toys, and books, while brightly painted signs glowed with magic, words shifting and announcing deals and discounts.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Fred said, leaning on my shoulder.
"We'll show you the Shrieking Shack first," George stated. "Then we can do your shopping, go to Zonko's, Honeydukes and all that, and finish off at the Three Broomsticks."
"Sounds like a plan," Fred agreed. "Come on Carnac. We've got lots to do, sights to see. Do try and prepare yourself, though. Some of the shops are a battle to get through."
Nodding, I followed behind, staring at the storefronts in awe.
Hopefully, I survive tonight. There is so much to do. So much to see.
So much I've yet to learn…
Letting out a shaky breath, I trailed after the twins.
After this, I'll have had my payback and I can owl Amelia Bones or Rufus Scrimgeour about the Horcruxes, and just stand back to watch Voldemort's legacy crumble.
But first, I need to take out Riddle, if only to prove to myself that I can.
"Come on Carnac," Fred called out. "Don't you dare try and sneak off!"
"If it's the Shrieking Shack you're worried about," George added, "then worry no more! We'll fend off those ghastly ghosts!"
"Or are they ghostly ghasts?" Fred asked.
Grinning, I picked up my pace. I'd survive. I'd help bring Voldemort to an end, and then, I'd be off to the next world. But that's far in the future.
For now, as Fred said, there's lots to do.
The Plan
That night, just before curfew, I gathered all my gear into a book-bag and crept out into the dark underbelly of the school.
At nine PM, no one was in the hallways, especially not with the Autumn winds chilling the stone corridors. Even the portraits were settled, packed into paintings of pubs and kitchens, basking in the orange glow. I kept a careful eye on them as I hurried past, ducking into side-corridors and hurrying up staircases bereft of frames for them to follow me through. Thankfully, none seemed to be following me, although I was annoyed that I hadn't had the foresight to learn the disillusionment charm.
To be safe, I pulled up my scarf, casting a quick Rigidum on it so it covered my lower face in a rigid mask, putting my magical glasses on and hood up, I completed my makeshift disguise with a notice-me-not charm.
I probably looked ridiculous, and It was obvious I was from Hufflepuff, thanks to my black and yellow scarf, but it was the best I could do on such short notice.
Puck damn it I wish I learned the disillusionment charm.
Walking through the quiet halls of Hogwarts, I felt more and more unsure of myself. What if Ginny didn't have the diary? Why couldn't I just leave the basilisk? It'd been there for a thousand years, so surely it'd be fine if I just took out Riddle.
Shaking my head, I dislodged those thoughts. I couldn't just leave the basilisk alone.I needed its venom to finish off the Horcrux, and in addition, I knew Riddle had already opened the chamber. In the books, Harry heard it moving in the pipes after Lockhart's detention, and that was in early September. I wasn't going to take the risk and assume Riddle hadn't left the Chamber open after that.
As for Ginny having the diary, it was a gamble, but I was willing to bet she had it with her at all times, with Riddle fostering some sort of toxic relationship of codependence.
Trudging up the staircase to the third floor, my heart thudded in my chest, and I had to stop at the top to take a deep breath.
"I need to do this," I muttered to myself. "I can do this…"
Ready, I made my way to the abandoned classroom in the north wing. The classroom I'd owled Ginny to meet 'Harry' in at nine-thirty. I had just over twenty minutes to set up my ambush.
Looking behind me one final time, I pushed open the door.
"Harry?"
I jumped back, slamming into the doorframe, wand at the ready. Ginny was there!
"Stupify!" I screamed, acting on instinct and Ginny jumped to the side, much faster than any first-year had the right to be. I saw inky tendrils of magic, worming across her skin and I knew instantly I was fighting for my life.
"Protego!" I yelled, but it was too late. An expelliarmus ripped my wand from my hand, and I had to dive aside before it'd even hit the ground as a red spell sparked against the doorframe behind where I'd been standing.
Scrambling to my feet, I waited to dodge again. My heart was hammering and my glasses were crooked, but I ignored that, watching the possessed redhead as Riddle summoned my wand.
"Who are you?" they asked and I felt sick as the inky webs of magic faded in and out of Ginny's pale skin, black tendrils worming from a point in her robes.
At least I knew she brought the diary.
"You know, It was rather smart of you to draw me here," Riddle continued when I failed to answer.
Deja vu hit me and I saw red.
Whatever Riddle was about to say was interrupted as I pulled on my magic and their feet flew out from under them.
"Stupify!" I screamed, and in a burst of light, Ginny tumbled back into a pile of stacked desks, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, I staggered forward. My fingers were numb and pins and needles raced up my arms, but I ignored the feeling, instead, reaching for the black mass in the folds of Ginny's robes.
The diary didn't look like I expected. It was shabby, with a cracked spine, and a date, 1943, sunken into the faded cover. Squirming strings of magic spiralled from it, some still latched onto Ginny, while others were beginning to sink into my quivering hand.
Hastily, I shoved the abominable book into my bag, grabbed my wand, and hurried outside.
Hopefully, Ginny would be alright, but I wasn't going to stick around and check.
I'd just attacked her, and for all I knew, as long as the diary had a connection to her, she was in Riddle's sway.
But I couldn't just leave her like that.
Sighing, I made sure my scarf was still in place, readjusted my hood and glasses, and hurried down the empty corridor to find a painting.
The first portrait I found was a man in healer's robes and, knocking on his frame, I woke him.
"What?" he huffed. "Who in Merlin's name are you? Isn't it a little close to curfew for you to be out and about?"
"Sorry sir," I said, "but I need you to pass on a message."
"A message?"
Thankfully, it didn't take much to send the portrait running for Madam Pomfrey, even if it was obvious that I was the cause of the 'accident' he was getting help for.
That done, I was off again, weaving through side passages to avoid more portraits until I reached the corridor with the tapestry of the dancing trolls.
Pacing back and forth, I wished for the entrance to the room, feeling jubilant and scared.
I'd taken out Riddle, but what about the Basilisk?
Stepping inside, I wadded up my scarf, shoving it into the door to stop it from closing, before descending down into the bowels of Hogwarts.
At the bottom of the stairwell, I watched as the magic of the silver-framed door stirred at my presence. The snake guardian uncoiled and peeled away from the door slightly, revealing its fangs.
"Alohomora!" I said, trying to ignore the sharp stab of pins and needles my arm. I'd better not have fried my nerves with that wandless magic.
The snake hissed, rearing back and opening its hood, emerald eyes pulsing with magic.
Scowling, I took a step back. I guess it would've been too easy if that worked. It should have, though, since Alohomora was only introduced to Britain way after this door was made, but I guess the silver was enough to counteract that.
I waited a moment for the snake to settle before stepping forward again.
"Bombarda!"
I tried not to drop my wand as my hands spasmed from the burst of magic, but the door tanked the hit, not even denting slightly.
"Merlin Carnac! What are you trying to do-"
I wheeled around, wand pointed at the figures in the stairwell above. Fred and George Weasley.
"What the fuck are you doing here!" I snarled.
"We could ask you the same thing," Fred said, and I noticed his wand was out. Not pointed at me, but not holstered either.
"What's behind the door, Carnac?" George asked.
I stared at the two. What were they doing here? How did they find the Entrance to the chamber?
"You used the map!" I said in realisation. "Puck damn it!"
"How do you know about the map?" Fred asked suspiciously.
"Why were you following me?" I countered. Did they know what I did to Ginny?
"We figured something was up from how you were acting at Hogsmead," George said cautiously. "We thought we'd keep an eye on you, but I don't think either of us expected you to be exploring Hogwarts. How did you find all this?"
It didn't sound like they knew about Ginny. How the hell did they miss that? Did they only see me meeting with Tom Riddle?
"You're a right little Napoleon," Fred said with a grin, and I lowered my wand slightly. "Sneaking around after curfew and discovering secrets."
"Kind of reminds you of two troublemakers we know, doesn't it Fred?" George commented.
"So," Fred asked. "What have you found?"
Glancing at the door, I saw the snake still watching us all suspiciously. How the fuck would I get the two to bugger off so I could finish this?
I wouldn't. I wouldn't be able to get them out of here. That realisation felt like a punch to the gut.
"I need you to swear to me that you won't tell anyone," I said.
"Don't worry Carnac," George said cheerfully.
"We're not snitches," Fred finished.
"Swear it!" I repeated.
The twins gave each other a look, before shrugging.
"Fine, we swear we won't tell anyone," George said.
"Your secret is safe with us."
"That's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets I said bluntly. There's a basilisk inside."
The twins shared another look.
"Basilisk?" Fred asked.
Oh in the name of Merlin! What is it with wizards not knowing this shit‽
"A huge fuck-off snake at the beck and call of the heir of Slytherin!" I elaborated, stealing another glance at the door. "If you see its eyes, you instantly die. If it bites you, you die."
"Merlin!" George said after a moment of silence. "Carnac! Why the hell were you trying to get in there‽"
"To kill it!" I said, turning to face the door. "I already took out the Slytherin heir."
"Carnac," Fred said worriedly. "This is the sort of thing Dumbledore should handle-"
"You swore!" I snapped back. "It may not be an unbreakable vow, but you swore all the same, and that has a magic all of its own. Now are you going to help me, or are you going to piss off so I can do this‽"
"Calm down Carnac," George said steadily. "We'll help you, won't we Fred."
"Sure," Fred said nervously. "I figure we can take out an overgrown snake. But why don't you wan't Dumbledore here?"
"I'll explain later," I said tersely, taking off my glasses and handing them to George. "You know the Gemino Charm?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Good. Make copies for all of us. Then we'll only be petrified instead of dead. Fred, do you know many unlocking charms?"
Fred nodded and I gestured to the door.
"Hey, Carnac?" George asked, handing me a pair of identical glasses. "Are these the spectacles that Lee said you had on the train?"
"Yeah," I said, watching him put his pair on. "Are those ones the original set?"
George's eyes bugged as he looked at Fred's spellwork, and I guessed that, yes, he had the originals.
Hastily, I placed on my pair. They were a copy, and bereft of the enchantments that the originals had, but they'd keep me alive. Wordlessly, I tapped Fred on the shoulder, handing him his pair, along with a potion from my bag.
"Drink this," I told him. "It's essence of rue. According to Pliny the Elder, it's a cure for Basilisk poison. Hopefully it works."
"You have more for me?" George asked nervously.
"I planned to do this alone," I told him, glancing at the door as Fred continued to cast spell after spell. "Hopefully, we don't get close enough to be at risk. Do either of you know how to transfigure stuff into roosters or weasels?"
"No?" George said hesitantly.
Scowling, I reached into my bag and pulled out a crinkled package of Honeydukes sweets.
"Sound-producing sweets," I explained. "I spent ages picking out the rooster ones. The crowing can kill basilisks."
"I've tried all the spells," Fred announced loudly. "It's still not open!"
Grimacing, I turned to the door. The snake was hissing at us all, a dry rasping laugh.
Sighing, I pulled two final things from my bag.
"Weasel piss," I said, handing the bottle to George. "The stench of a weasel should kill the basilisk.
George stared wide-eyed at the thing in my other hand.
"The Diary of Tom Riddle," I said, knowing that through the glasses, he could see the black magic clinging to the book. "It was possessing your sister. To kill it, stab it with a basilisk fang."
"That's Ginny's diary," Fred said anxiously, glancing between me and the book. "How did you get it‽"
"It was possessing her and I had to duel Riddle," I said bluntly. "She's with Madam Pomfrey now." Hopefully.
Fred looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, George put a hand on his shoulder and I turned to the door, where the snake was still hissing away. Probably flinging insults in parseltongue.
"Ardere Armos!" I announced.
As soon as the spell impacted the door, I felt the magic slipping and sliding across the silver. Ignoring the burning in my arms and the stiffness of my fingers, I continued to push and push against the magic of the metal.
The snake wasn't laughing now, instead, it was squirming uncomfortably, hissing.
"Ardere Armos!" I said again, and the silver began to glow, the wood of the door creaked and blackened, and the snake let out a loud sound halfway between a exhale and a growl.
With a pop, the door flew and I bared my teeth in a grin.
Stepping into the Chamber, I stared into the gloom, squinting from the white-light of heated metal and trying to catch any movement in the flickering shadows of the green torches.
We were on a balcony overlooking the cavernous room and all was silent, besides the dripping of water and the agonised hissing of the door.
"Where's the basilisk?" Fred whispered, his voice echoing.
I tried to keep quiet, listening. In the distance, I could hear something moving. The sounds of rippling water reverberated through the Chamber, accompanied by the faint rasp of scales against stone.
Taking a steadying breath, I turned to the twins. They looked pale in the green light of the magical torches, glancing around nervously.
Clumsily, I took the Honeydukes bag from George's loose grip and grabbed a sweet.
"Get ready," I said softly as the basilisk grew louder. "George, when it gets close enough, chuck the bottle."
Fred shakily grabbed the bag from me, snatching a handful of sweets, just as the silver serpent of the door hissed something in parseltongue, and the movement of the basilisk stopped.
Then all hell broke loose.
Fred choked back the sweets and crowed. The basilisk hissed and began thrashing about below. I joined in, watching as plumes of water splashed across the walls, darkening the torches.
As George added his voice to the discord, I realised the sweets weren't working. The snake wasn't dying!
I tried to scream for George to throw the jar, but my vocal cords were still under the control of the sweet.
I needed to do something! Pointing my wand at the jar, I willed it to come to me. The burning of my arms was hard to ignore now, but I did my best, and with one final scream, I flung the thing at the squirming basilisk, my wand slipping from my numb grip.
Through the spray and dancing green flames, I saw the jar smash against the snake's head, next to its yellow eye-
Last edited: May 7, 2022
Aftermath
I woke up choking.
Mind reeling, I tried to sit up and cough, but I didn't have the breath to manage, and my body felt leaden.
"Anapneo."
I could breathe! Inhaling, I almost vomited. My mouth tasted rancid like someone had given me a smoothie made from rotting compost.
Dry heaving, I tried to sit up, but my body felt too heavy.
"None of that Mr. Le Fay! I'd rather I didn't have to change the sheets!"
Nauseated, I stared around, mouth wide open so I didn't have to taste whatever revolting potion I'd been given. I was in the Infirmary and, standing over me, was an irate-looking Madam Pomfrey.
"I won't comment on your… Gryffindorish behaviour," she said through gritted teeth. "You have a meeting with the headmaster tomorrow. He can do that!"
"What?" I asked, instantly regretting it as I tasted the potion again.
"Hold out your hand," the matron said, ignoring my question and pulling a silver pin out of her robes. "I need to see if any of your fingers are still solid."
Hesitantly, I complied, wincing as the irate woman jabbed me. After that, she nodded, satisfied.
"You should be good to go in the morning, but now, you have several groups waiting to see you. Merlin knows they've been waiting long enough for you to wake up."
"Wait!" my mind froze. "How long was I…?"
"Nine Months," Madam Pomfrey said, her expression softening slightly. "It's nearly the end of June. The Exams are just wrapping up, although, I do believe the headmaster has some alternative solution for you, so you don't have to be held back a year. Shall I go get your first lot of visitors?"
I nodded numbly. I'd survived, but I'd lost almost the entire year…
"Carnac!"
I stared in apathy as Hermione and Neville rushed in, with Luna trailing behind.
"Carnac! Was it Harry who petrified you‽" Hermione demanded.
What‽
"You have to tell the headmaster! Neville said frantically. "He doesn't believe it, even though everyone knows it was Harry!"
"What makes you think it was Harry‽" I asked slowly, trying to wrap my head around what they were saying.
"It makes sense!" Hermione said in a shaky breath. "He's a parselmouth!"
How in Merlin's name does that change anything‽ I could understand how that could be damning if they knew about the basilisk, but-
"Were the twins with you when you were attacked‽" Hermione demanded.
"Yeah," I stammered, "But they were helping me-"
"They were acting suspiciously after you were petrified!" Hermione interrupted breathlessly. "The paintings said they brought you to the infirmary-"
"-and when Lockhart started teaching duelling," Neville continued, with the same fervour, "Harry spoke to a snake! He's a parselmouth!"
"He has to be descended from Slytherin!" Hermione exclaimed. "The school records state that a descendant of Slytherin was responsible for several attacks that let people petrified only fifty years ago! They must be related!"
How'd they discover that? Riddle was the one who revealed that in Canon.
"We couldn't find any mention of the Potters being descendants," Hermione continued, oblivious to my confusion, "but they are descended from families like the Potterers, who worked with the dead, and the Peverells, who were supposedly cursed-"
"Hermione!" I interrupted. "Breath!"
Hermione took a shaky breath, and Neville picked up the torch, blundering on with the conspiracy theory.
"The Weasley's have to be covering for him," he said. "When we tried to ask Ginny about it, she got really nervous and was about to say something before the twins arrived-"
Fuck it. Screw keeping this a secret. I need to kill this theory before they begin a witch hunt.
"I was petrified by a Basilisk!"
Neville and Hermione's eyes grew wide as they looked at me. Luna, on the other hand, tilted her head.
"I thought it'd be a gorgon," she said innocuously.
"That explains everything!" Hermione said, ignoring Luna. "He's a Parselmouth! He can talk to snakes!"
Oh for fucks sake!
"It wasn't Harry!" I said angrily.
"But-" Hermione started, but I cut her off with a glare.
"What happened," I said, looking between the two Gryffindors, "is that the person who originally petrified those students, one Tom Riddle Jr, decided to create a possessive artefact. It took control of a student this year, and was acting through them to release the basilisk. I, being a fucking idiot, thought I could deal with the issue without any help and got my arse petrified. Thankfully, the Weasley twins were there to get me to the infirmary."
"How do you know that‽" Hermione exclaimed. "And why didn't you tell Professor Dumbledore, or Professor Lockhart?"
Leaning back, I watched the three of them for a long moment. Even Luna was staring at me, her dreamy expression absent.
"I…" I paused. I didn't want to lie to them, but they wouldn't believe me if I said I read it all in a book series. "I know a bit about the future," I said quickly.
The truth was out. Now I couldn't just get cold feet and continue the charade. They were my friends. They needed to know the truth.
"Are you a diviner?" Luna asked.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't figured out how to look into the future." Nor do I want to figure out. So far my foresight hasn't done me any good and has been more a reason for stress than anything else. "From what I can tell," I continued, "I know how events would have progressed if I hadn't come to Hogwarts."
"So you don't really see the future?" Hermione clarified. "Just a possible future."
"Foretellings aren't usually clear, though," Neville said, watching me cautiously. "But you say you can see how things could have been?"
Nodding, I closed my eyes, regretting my impulse decision to tell the truth.
"What did you see?" Hermione asked. "The other future, I mean. What happened in it?"
Well, if I'm laying my cards on the table…
"Last year, it would have been a troll at Halloween, not Peeves," I said, eyes still closed. "Harry and Ron would have saved you just in time. This year, the Heir of Slytherin would have opened the Chamber of Secrets and started petrifying students with the basilisk. Harry and Ron would have dealt with that as well…"
I paused. Should I mention Horcruxes? Taking another shaky breath, I decided, no. Maybe Dumbledore was right in keeping them secret…
"Next year Sirius Black will escape from Azkaban," I said, eyes flickering across hospital beds and paintings and anything besides the people before me. "He's an innocent man though. The real criminal is Peter Pettigrew, who's hiding out here in Hogwarts in the form of a rat."
I paused, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. I hadn't even considered doing anything about that. I'd been too obsessed with either avoiding Voldemort, or getting revenge on Riddle.
"If you know where he is, then we can tell the Professors!" Hermione said, and I glanced at her. She stared back defiantly.
"I will," I told her. "I should have done it before, but now…" Nothing had changed now. The only thing forcing my hand was that I couldn't avoid the issue anymore.
"The year after that," I continued, "The Triwizard Tournament occurs. Harry is forced to compete by a death-eater and You-Know-Who returns."
Hermione gasped, Neville looked pale, and even Luna seemed worried.
"Things go from bad to worse from there," I continued, using every ounce of willpower I had to suppress my guilt. "The ministry denies it. Sirius Black, Dumbledore, and others die, and eventually, it comes to war. Eventually, Harry defeats him, but by then Britain had been occupied for a year…"
The three stared at me, and I looked back, feeling dead inside.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Hermione asked in a small voice. "Why haven't you done anything to stop it?"
"I've been trying to avert disaster," I said bitterly. So far my actions were doing more to muddy the waters than help. "But I was too scared to ask for help," I continued. "Too scared of Dumbledore. Scared of the Ministry. Scared of Voldemort finding out. I planned to let people know this year, after the basilisk, but then I got petrified, and that's one less year we have to avoid calamity… all because of me."
The three stared at me, and I tried not to contemplate what they must be thinking of me.
"Why are you scared of Dumbledore?" Hermione finally asked.
"Mistakes he's made," I said dully. "Unflattering choices that make me wonder how good a man he truly is, and paranoia that makes me even more worried about it all."
Glancing up, I watched one of the portraits I'd spotted while glancing around the room. The woman within shuffled nervously in her painting as I watched. Dumbledore will know about all this now anyway…
"What will you do now?" Neville asked. "Are you still going to contact the people you were going to?"
"Now," I said softly, "I'll let Dumbledore know. I'm going to make things right…"
The conversation died after that, with no one really sure what to say.
Eventually, Madam Pomfrey bustled in to usher the three out, but before she could get them gone, Neville turned to me.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "I know you always keep things to yourself, but thanks for opening up a bit and sharing this with us."
"Don't worry," Luna added, "I won't tell a soul. My Dad would want to print it in the Quibbler."
"Yes, yes! Alright!" Madam Pomfrey said, herding them to the door. "You can talk to Mr. Le Fay tomorrow, once he's released. Now shoo!"
Sinking back into the bed, I sighed, feeling tired.
Time would tell if I'd burned that bridge, but, in a way, I felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders. Even if Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard in this reality, he couldn't be worse than Voldemort, and now I had people who knew the vague outline of things to come.
If they stuck with me, then I'd know I could trust them with my life.
If they stuck with me…
Madam Pomfrey returned quickly with the pair of guests; the Weasley twins.
They pulled up seats beside my bed and watched me in uncertain silence.
"No one got hurt?" I finally asked.
Fred snorted and George shook his head with a rueful smile.
"You are literally lying in a hospital bed, Carnac," he said.
"But were either of you two hurt?" I asked seriously.
The twins shared a glance.
"I got paralysed," Fred admitted, and my stomach sank. "It wasn't pleasant. I couldn't move, but I could still feel everything-"
"I'm sorry!" I interrupted. "If I'd been more prepared-"
"Don't apologise, Carnac," George cut in. "If it wasn't for you giving up the essence of rue, he'd be where you are now. Madam Pomfrey was able to have him fixed up in a night."
I sighed in relief, slumping back. I'd thought the rue would only work to counteract only basilisk venom, but if it lessoned the effects of the basilisk's gaze, I wasn't going to complain.
"Professor Dumbledore has your glasses by the way," Fred added. "He said the basilisk stare damaged the enchantments, and that he'd fix them up, and give them back to you when you woke up."
"We all have to meet with him after you're released," George continued. "To tell him what happened in the Chamber. We haven't told him anything yet."
"We may have mentioned to him that we didn't want to test the oath you made us take," Fred said. "We figure it's probably not binding, but we both thought it'd be best to wait until you were there so he can get the full story."
I nodded, happy to know I'd be facing the headmaster with the Weasley twins at my back.
"There is some bad news though," George said with a slight grimace.
Instantly, I was on high alert.
"Is it the Diary‽" I demanded. "Is it Ginny‽ Hermione said she ambushed her-"
"Calm down Carnac," Fred said.
"We destroyed the Diary, like you told us," George stated, "although Dumbledore took that too. Ginny's fine as well. She was a bit twitchy afterwards-"
"-she hexed Percy when he snuck up on her-" Fred contributed.
"-but she's fine," George finished. "We haven't told her about the possession though."
"We figured it'd be best if she didn't know," Fred said. "She was a bit mopey about losing the diary, but Luna was there for her."
"And just so we're clear," George said, voice growing serious, "we found out what you did to her from Madam Pomfrey. You broke her ribs and gave her a small concussion."
"The only reason we aren't dealing with you," Fred said, his smile growing flinty, "is because it wasn't her you were fighting. George says he saw what the diary was like through the glasses, so we believe you when you say she was possessed-"
"-but Carnac," George said, his voice deadly calm, "if you ever hurt our sister like that again, you will wish you remained petrified."
In the terse silence that followed, I watched the twins closely. I knew they could make my life living hell, and that I couldn't hope to stop them.
"Anyway," Fred said lightly, "that's not the bad news…"
"Yeah," George agreed, looking a little guilty. "It's your wand."
"What about it?" I asked cautiously.
"It broke," George said. "I don't know how, but I found it near the basilisk when I was killing the diary. I think the snake fell on it, because part of it was splintered."
I almost laughed. The basilisk had managed to stomp out my wand even after I'd killed it‽ Oh fuck my life.
The twins stayed a little longer, talking about the rest of the year, about pranks and gossip, in an attempt to cheer me up, and I grinned and laughed and slowly died on the inside.
Finally, when they'd gone, I asked Madam Pomfrey if I could avoid having any more guests, before closing my eyes and trying to process everything.
I'd lost nine months. I'd lost my wand, and i'd made it so I couldn't continue to lie. I think I still have friends, so I guess it's not the end, but I was done trying to be the hero. Harry could have that shtick for all I cared.
With that thought in mind, I drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Exhausted.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
A meeting with the Headmaster.
Albus Dumbledore waited patiently.
Around him, silver trinkets ticked and whirred, the portraits of past headmasters shuffled in their paintings, and Fawkes crooned softly from his perch to the side.
One of the many baubles, a multifaceted crystalline bell, chimed softly, and he sat up a little straighter.
His guests had arrived.
Carnac Le Fay had the air of someone marching to the gallows, and the twins looked equal parts nervous and awed. Smiling benevolently, Dumbledore stood, conjuring up three cushy armchairs.
"Have a seat," he said welcomingly. "Lemon drop? It always amazes me what wonders muggles can make without magic. I find even acid pops have a hard time comparing to these sweets."
The twins seemed to relax at the amenities, but if anything, Carnac grew tenser.
That was concerning.
Once everyone was settled in, Dumbledore turned to Carnac Le Fay with a genial smile.
"I understand you made these two swear not to mention their exploits in the Chamber?"
Carnac nodded wordlessly.
"I do love a good story," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to share what happened."
Taking a deep breath, as if mentally preparing himself, Carnac Le Fay began to talk.
Despite himself, Dumbledore was impressed. Sound producing sweets? Essence of Rue? It was certainly outside the box thinking, if untested and incredibly risky.
Curiously, he described the diary as the 'abominable book' or as an 'abomination.' It was curious, as Dumbledore knew that Carnac Le Fay was aware of Horcruxes. They'd been a focus of 'Mycenaean Magic' after all, and while he'd been appalled when the elves had discovered the dark tome among Carnac's possessions, it had at least been used for good in taking out the basilisk.
Despite that, Dumbledore was still conflicted, and curious. Did Carnac know what the Diary was?
The accounts of the Room of Requirement were interesting, and the boy didn't seem to be holding much back, which was a good indication that he was going to keep with his decision to explain potential events.
Once the story concluded, Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"Thank you for that, Mr. Le Fay," he said. "It's good to know that the basilisk has been dealt with… I recall the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened and I'm thankful that it didn't have a chance to claim another life. I do ask that in the future, though, that you find a professor before doing something so reckless…"
The twins looked guilty and Carnac looked weary. Perhaps it was best not to move on. The boy had gotten an earful from his friends in the Infirmary, and dwelling on the Carnac's rash decision would only serve to sow distrust and may make him reluctant to share further information.
"Two-hundred points to Gryffindor," Dumbledore said, "for bravery and resolution, and five-hundred points to Hufflepuff for defending the school from ancient threats. Now, don't do it again."
Grinning slightly, the twins glanced at each other, but Carnac stared solemnly ahead.
"Carnac?" Dumbledore asked. "Is there something you want to say?"
"Oh fuck it!" Carnac muttered. "Let's do this…"
The account of how the debacle with the Philosopher's Stone could have gone was… mildly accusatory. Dumbledore could see how the boy perceived some of his choices as foolish, although, thankfully he didn't go as far as to claim malicious intent.
The accounts of what could have occurred in years to come, though, were more bluntly put.
"Sirius Black is innocent," the boy started off with. "He never got a trial."
There was an unsaid question there.
Nodding slowly, Dumbledore watched the boy. Did he hold him responsible for Sirius's arrest? Why?
"I've already begun the process of reviewing that entire debacle," Dumbledore said smoothly. "It may take a while, with the holes in wartime records and Minister Fudge's attempts to, let's say, mitigate the impact of this miscarriage of justice on his career-"
"Didn't his entire career in politics start because of Sirius Black's arrest," Carnac asked innocently.
"No," Dumbledore said, "although he was one of the first at the scene. His job in the Department of Magical Accidents meant he was one of the first people to see the carnage. Despite that, with the true culprit now incarcerated, Minister Fudge has expedited Sirius Black's trial and subsequent release."
"You already got Pettigrew?" the boy asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Regardless of what you may think of me," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard, "I'm not in the habit of letting known murderers wander freely in Hogwarts."
Carnac muttered something to himself, and George raised a hand.
"So… Peter Pettigrew was the actual guy to betray the Potters? Not Sirius Black?"
"That is correct, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, "although I believe we're getting off topic."
"Wait until we tell Percy," Fred muttered to his brother. "Didn't the map say he named Scabbers that?"
The Map? Smiling slightly, Dumbledore filed that away for later. Hopefully, they wouldn't put together that Scabbers was Pettigrew. That'd cause some tension between the twins and Carnac Le Fay.
Turning to the boy expectantly, he nodded for Carnac to continue his story.
"So what happens next?"
Carnac's stories continued with descriptions of the Quidditch World Cup, and the Triwizard tournament being hijacked by Death Eaters.
Listening intently, Dumbledore's mind raced. He could kill two birds with one stone here. Barty Crouch was the biggest backer of the Tournament's revival, so exposing that he'd smuggled his son from Azkaban would be more than enough to kill the project. Removing Crouch Jr. from the picture would also delay Voldemort's return, buying much-needed time.
The story continued, with bleak accounts of Ministry misconduct.
Listening, Dumbledore started to understand why the boy hadn't reached out to anyone. With accounts of Fudge's denials, his unlawful kissing of Crouch, and Madam Umbridge's tyranny, the boy's distrust of adults was seemingly justified.
But beyond the unsaid accusations about keeping the Stone in Hogwarts and not involving himself with Sirius Black's arrest, Dumbledore couldn't think of what could make the boy so mistrustful of him above all. Was there more to come? Mistakes made that were beyond damning?
"The final two years aren't really worth going over," Carnac finally said, after concluding the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. "Everything will probably have been changed by then, anyway. There's the vanishing cabinet, I guess… you know what that is?"
Dumbledore nodded, and Carnac gave a small shrug, as if dismissing its importance in the war.
"There's one in the school and one in Borgan and Burkes," he said with another shrug, as if it was only something of minor note. "If you buy that, you'll prevent people from getting into the school. But the main things you need to know about are the Horcruxes."
Dumbledore froze. Horcruxes? Plural‽ He'd suspected the Diary may be one, but the confirmation…
"What are Horcruxes?" Fred asked, and suddenly, Dumbledore was very aware that the twins were still there. He trusted the Weasleys, but this was a bit too sensitive to spread widely.
"Bits of a person's soul," Carnac stated emotionlessly. "Voldemort created seven, splitting his soul with a cold-blooded murder and binding each fragment to an item of personal importance."
Albus Dumbledore stared at Carnac Le Fay with wide eyes. How did he know‽ The book, Mycenaean Magic, mentioned Horcruxes, but their creation wasn't covered. Already, Carnac was revealing knowledge of dark magic beyond what Dumbledore had dreaded he'd know.
"How many did Voldemort create?" Albus asked, fearing the answer.
"Seven," Carnac said, "or at least… There's the Diary, the Diadem, the Locket, the Cup, Harry, the snake-"
"Harry?" George demanded. "What do you mean Harry‽"
"Let him continue," Dumbledore said sharply.
"Diary, Diadem, Locket, Cup, Ring, and Harry," Carnac repeated. "The snake, Nagini hasn't been added yet. I'm pretty sure she may be a witch trapped in the form of the snake, but it doesn't really matter."
Dumbledore felt disgusted. A feeling he hadn't felt for ages. It was one thing to push one's emotions aside to persevere. It was another thing entirely to remorselessly disregard someone's life entirely… shoving down the emotion, he sat up a little straighter. The boy was still young, and there was still time to show him the way.
"They have to be destroyed in a certain way," Carnac continued. "Fiendfyre and basilisk venom both work. Dementors and the Veil of Death will probably also do the trick-"
"Are you saying Harry has to die!" George demanded, leaping to his feet, "because-"
"Sit down Mr. Weasley!" Dumbledore demanded. "There is always another way!"
Taking a shaky breath, Carnac nodded, and Dumbledore wished he had insisted the Twins leave for this.
"From what I've found, it could be removed," he said. "I don't quite know how it worked in the other world… I think the Horcrux may have taken the brunt of Voldemort's killing curse. Harry was also tied to Voldemort through the blood ritual, and I think Voldemort may have used the Elder Wand, which belonged to Harry at the time, but it's all too complicated to recreate here…"
Dumbledore waited as the boy composed himself. There were so many questions to be asked.
"From what I figure," Carnac continued, "the ritual for creating the Horcrux was incomplete, which means Harry may not be fully tied to the fragment of Voldemort's soul. There are rituals that can remove possessive spirits from hosts, and if the soul-fragment is connected to the scar or Harry's skull, then there's Muggle Surgery that could remove it."
Dumbledore nodded, watching as Carnac tapped his knee nervously. It could work, but it was all theoretical. He'd need to do much research.
"I think that will be all for now," Albus Dumbledore said finally. "Thank you, Carnac. What you've told us will be instrumental in bringing Voldemort to justice. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Could you see yourselves out? I have a few more things to discuss with Mr. Le Fay."
The twins left reluctantly, and Dumbledore waited until the door was closed and the anti-listening wards activated before turning to Carnac Le Fay.
"Again, I must thank you," he said softly. "With this information, I hope to have Voldemort's Horcruxes destroyed before Summer's end… If you are willing to tell me where they are?"
Carnac looked at him tiredly.
"The Cup is in the Lestrange Gringotts vault," he said, watching Dumbledore closely. "The Diadem is in the Room of Lost Things; another name for the Room of Requirement."
Dumbledore did his best to keep from grimacing. A Horcrux within Hogwarts this entire time‽
"The Ring is in the Gaunt shack in… I can't remember the name of the town… the place where Riddle's father's from."
"Little Hangleton," Dumbledore said softly. "A quaint little hamlet, although I've never visited. I only know of it from my research into Voldemort's rise."
"The ring has a curse on it," Carnac said, ignoring Dumbledore's contribution. "If you put it on, it'll cause your hand to wither. There may also be a compulsion charm as well."
"I shall be most cautious," Dumbledore assured.
After a moment's hesitation, the boy glanced at Albus with determination.
"The ring has the Resurrection stone set into it."
"Ahh," Albus said, mind suddenly racing. "I see."
"The people summoned by the stone advocate death," Carnac continued. "Just like with the story of Cadmus Peverell. When Harry used it in the other time, he summoned his mum and dad and Sirius and Remus Lupin. They told him death was like falling asleep. They didn't tell him to save himself, or anything, they just…" He trailed off, as if unsure how to convey the horror of that prospect.
Dumbledore nodded, carefully keeping his face blank. That would be the last Horcrux he'd be retrieving. Partially because of the threat of the withering curse, but mostly because of the temptation.
"And the Locket?" He finally asked.
"At Grimmauld place, in one of the cabinets in an office or dressing room upstairs. Ask Kreacher, the elf. He'll be more than willing to help you destroy it."
"Hopefully by the time you return next year," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "they'll be gone from the world."
Carnac let out a bitter laugh.
"I don't think my parents will let me back," he said dryly. "They wanted to transfer me to Beauxbaton last year, and that was before I spent nine months petrified."
Smiling slightly, Dumbledore nodded.
"That may be so," he said benevolently, "but I had a word with them and we've reached an agreement."
Carnac tensed, watching Dumbledore suspiciously, and again Albus wondered what he'd seen in that other timeline to make him think so little of him.
"What was it?" Carnac asked.
"Are you aware of what a wizarding apprenticeship entails?"
If anything, Carnac became even more anxious.
"I have agreed to teach you," Dumbledore said. "Part of the pact I've made with your parents is to protect you at all costs-"
"They sold me!" Carnac stated bitterly.
"They entrusted you to my care and gave you an opportunity that wizards across all of Europe would fight tooth and nail for," Dumbledore stated calmly. "I admit, I hoped to use the opportunity to find how the 'Les fileur de destin' prophecy applied to you, but I think we've mostly gone over how you're unique foreknowledge allows you to fill that role."
Carnac flinched, before the tension drained from his shoulders as his Occlumency overcame his apprehension.
"What's expected of me?" he asked in a flat tone.
"You are simply expected to learn," Dumbledore said softly. "I couldn't ask anything more of you."
Nodding stiffly, Carnac pointedly glanced at the door, and Dumbledore figured he'd had enough for the day.
"You may go, Mr. Le Fay," he said, "and I shall contact you early next year with lesson plans. It's been a while since I've taught, so it'll be exciting to get back into it."
At the door, the boy stopped.
"Professor Dumbledore," he said stiffly, "I have one request."
Dumbledore nodded, curious to hear what the boy wanted.
"It's the basilisk," Carnac continued. "France is going through an Alchemical revolution at the moment, and basilisk ash is a key ingredient in turning silver into gold and creating 'De auro hyspanico.' If it can be rendered for ingredients, it should be worth quite a lot…"
"Indeed," Dumbledore said.
"And since Ginny was possessed, and Fred and George played a large part in killing it, I reckon this may be the Weasley's golden ticket. Food for thought."
Dumbledore watched the boy leave in delighted confusion.
He hadn't expected that, but he had to hand it to Carnac Le Fay; repaying companionship with gifts and goodwill was certainly one way to forge strong bonds of loyalty.
As long as that wasn't all his relationship with the Weasleys was built on, Carnac would have powerful allies.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
Hometime
Sitting on the steps to the entry hall, watching the throngs of students boarding the carriages, I felt conflicted.
I'd finally told Dumbledore everything, after years of worry and fear that he was a manipulative fanon character. I still didn't know for sure, but it was done now, and I couldn't take it back.
Sighing, I fished my enchanted glasses out of my bag and stared at them.
They'd been on my bed when I'd gotten back from my meeting with Dumbledore. I'd tried to check if there were any added tracking spells, but I hadn't found anything. Not that I expected to, though, after all the Headmaster's a master magician while I'm an amateur at best.
Looking out over the milling students, I grimaced. I was being paranoid, but I had reason to. Even if I wasn't dealing with a manipulative Dumbledore, he was still someone who needed to keep his students safe, and I was positive that he knew I'd been reading up on dark magic. Mycenaean Magic was gone after all. All I could hope was that he didn't think me to be the second coming of Tom Riddle.
Shaking my head, I dismissed the dark thoughts. I only had two years to go. I just needed to stay safe, learn what I could, and then be off.
Checking my watch, I frowned. I was too early. I'd arranged to meet Neville, Hermione, and Luna here at nine, but there was still half an hour to go. Distractedly, I put on the glasses, watching the outline of magic around the chatting students.
It was one way to pass the time.
I was just watching the thestrals and the dark aura that seemed to keep people from bumping into them, when I heard my name.
"Are you Carnac Le Fay?"
Turning around, I stared cautiously at two young Gryffindors; a redhead and a boy with glasses.
Puck damn it! I decide to stay away from the plot, and the plot shows up to bother me.
"I am him," I said tiredly. "What do you want?"
"What did they tell you?" Harry asked defiantly, Ron glowering at me from his side.
Sighing, I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. Puck damn it! Can't I have a fucking break?
"Are you asking what Hermione and Neville told me?" I asked.
"They've been going on all year about how Harry petrified you!" Ron stated loudly, drawing a few looks. "They said that he's Slytherin's heir, and they ambushed Ginny and nearly made her cry!"
I nodded slowly, feeling numb. I was still a little guilty about knocking Ginny around, even if she was alright now. Turning to Harry, I saw he was watching me suspiciously.
"They did say that you were Slytherin's heir," I said, "but I told them they were being paranoid. Just because someone can speak to snakes, doesn't mean anything. And even if you are descended from Slytherin, as far as I can tell, you are an okay guy-"
"Then why didn't you want to see us!" Harry demanded.
I stared at him curiously. What did he mean?
"We wanted to see you after you woke up," Ron clarified. "But after you saw Fred and George, madam Pomfrey said you weren't seeing any more visitors!"
They were waiting to see me? Well, now I feel like an arse.
"I'd just gotten the news that I had to see the Headmaster," I explained. "That, and the fact that I'd just just been told my wand was broken seemed more important to deal with than seeing visitors."
"Big deal!" Ron scoffed. "My wand's been broken all year, and I haven't needed to 'deal with it!'"
Merlin! I'd forgotten about that.
"You mean to tell me," I said cautiously, "that you've been running around all year with a broken wand?"
"Yeah!" Ron said defiantly.
Puck save me from the idiocy of wizards.
"Ron Weasley," I said slowly. "Have you told anyone about this?"
"My brothers know," Ron said hesitantly.
"Have you told the Professors?" I demanded. "Parents?"
"No?"
"Why would he need to do that?" Harry demanded hotly. I ignored him, continuing to stare at Ron. I hadn't thought about this before because it wasn't my problem, but now it was staring me in the face…
"Ron," I said. "A broken wand could kill someone. Have you found that your spells are overpowered, or underpowered, or backfiring?"
Ron didn't say anything, but his guilty expression said it all.
"I know I'm a stranger and all that," I said, "but this is serious. You are bloody lucky no one was seriously hurt!"
"But if my mum finds out-" Ron started desperately, but I cut him off.
"Then she'll have to deal with it. What you've been doing all year is akin to playing with a loaded shotgun! It's unpredictable, and even if magic can fix almost anything, it can't fix disfigurement from dark magic!"
"But I don't use dark magic!" Ron stated angrily.
"Do you use jinxes?" I asked.
"Yeah, but that's not dark-"
"Jinxes are charms intended to cause minor harm or restrict an individual," I stated, reciting the first year book on Defence. "It's a catch-all term that includes dark spells - spells with the intent to harm - that are too useful or minor to ban."
Ron stared at me aghast, and Harry seemed like he wanted to yell at me.
There goes my chance of building bridges… why did I have to start ranting?
"Just get a new wand," I said. "And don't ever take magic for granted. Now shoo."
Fuck my life. What else had I ignored? Lockhart? Had the curse affected him? Should I mention that Pettigrew may escape like in all those fanfics that need him to resurrect Lord No-nose? What about Neville's wand? Harry's home life?
Sighing, I stood up. I could wait for my friends on the train. For now, I needed somewhere private where I could write.
I had a whole bunch of letters to send.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
A (not so) grim day
"What do you mean you haven't read the Family Grimoire yet?" my brother, Giles, demanded as we strolled through the dappled shade of La Bailloterie Lane. "I mean…" he paused as if struggling to compose his thoughts. "You're out there, learning spells from books written before the Norman Conquest and throwing around wandless magic, and you haven't even read up on our family's magic?"
I grimaced, stepping off the road as a car passed by.
"I didn't even think to check if we have one," I said, and Giles stared at me, open-mouthed.
"You're kidding right?"
I shook my head slowly. Gile's had caught me practicing my wandless magic over at the Pleinmont fairy ring and had been badgering me about it ever since. This was just the most recent topic in a long conversation.
"When we get back home," Giles said, "I'll have to show you! Père let me have a look at it when I was your age, and it's got some awesome magic in it!"
"What sort of magic?" I asked curiously. The only grimoires I'd read so far were student grimoires; books with useless prank spells and doodles in the margins. Family grimoires were different; they were compilations of all the useful spells families created or bought over the centuries, as well as accounts of important events and records of branches of the family tree.
"There's some dark stuff, like the walking curse," Giles said, "but most of it's stuff we inherited from our ancestors."
I nodded. Ages back, English fairies, the Arragouset, invaded Guernsey. Most muggle islanders could trace their lineage back to them, but it was us wizards that reaped the greatest reward.
"There's glamour," Giles said, "a few spells for hiding and invisibility. A spell to make rocks chime and one to make one's voice seem to come from the air. My favourite is the flying spell, though. Apparently, if you perform the ritual, you can fly without a broom, although Père didn't allow me to try it."
"That is awesome," I said. A flying spell… I know a big deal was made about Voldemort and Snape flying, and Hagrid did it in the first book of the series, but it wasn't something I'd thought I'd ever find out how to do. Now though…
Maybe if the ritual's simple, I can add a new branch of magic to my portfolio before even returning to Hogwarts.
"I still can't believe you haven't read the Grimoire," Giles said one final time as we crossed onto Rue de la Friquet before turning onto Folie Lane. "Anyway, are you going to keep up your wandless magic when you get a new wand?"
"Probably," I said with a shrug. "It's a bit more difficult without a wand, and I have to concentrate more. It's good practice I guess."
I'd been trying to replicate the feats I'd achieved in my battle with Riddle last year. Unfortunately, I'd gotten nowhere close. I was getting stronger, sure, but I guess I needed a life or death situation to really begin wandlessly wielding overpowered magic.
"You want to talk about it," Giles asked, and I shot him a look.
He wasn't talking about wandless magic.
Giles was the only one that was treating me like normal. Père seemed nervous around me now, and Mémaen kept staring at me like I was going to break. I was thankful that my brother was holding it together. I couldn't deal with the uncertain looks and pity.
"We're nearly there," Giles eventually said after the silence had dragged on for a few too many seconds. "You got the mutton bones?"
"Yeah," I said, wrinkling my nose. "I don't know why you want me to carry them,"
"Because you can zap the flies out of the air," Giles said with a small laugh. "If it was me carrying them, I'd be swarmed."
I reached out with a pulse of magic, and he jumped in shock. I looked at him innocently.
"Very funny little brother," he said, grinning, then, with a small salute and a pop, he was gone.
Sighing, I turned onto Ruette de la Folie, sticking close to the hedge. That was one thing I'd miss out on thanks to my deal with the ROB. Apparation is only taught at Hogwarts when students turn seventeen. I'll be gone by then.
Oh well. I'm sure I can make up for it with other magic.
I Joined Giles at the end of the lane, where it met Ville Baudu Road. He was seated in the shade of the hedge, a stem of grass sticking out of his mouth. Spotting me, he gave me a lazy grin.
"What took you so long?"
Ignoring his comment, I dumbed the bag of bones onto his lab, and took a seat next to him, looking out west, along the road.
"Baudu should be here soon," Giles said, setting the bag to the side. "You want to eat while we wait?"
"After," I said softly.
"She probably won't be here for a while," Giles murmured, lying back in the shade.
Shrugging, I began to pick at the grass, trying to weave the stems together without touching them. It was finicky, and I was so focused on it, I didn't notice the grim until she was nuzzling my hand.
"Hows it Baudu," Giles said, giving the black death-dog a scratch on the head. "Where are your pups?"
Baudu slumped into the grass between us, rolling over and allowing Giles to scratch her belly. I, on the other hand, watched the shadows of the hedge, as little dark shapes bounded through the foliage, occasionally ghosting through branches.
"Hey little guys," I said, holding out a hand for the closest pup to sniff. One of the grim puppies boldly bounded forward and hesitantly licked my fingers. "How old are they?" I asked Giles, as the litter of grim puppies began to surround us, curiously sniffing everything.
"Père said they were born around Halloween," Giles said softly, giving me a sad smile.
I looked away. Even if they were cute, grim were associated with death, and for this lot to show up so soon after I'd been petrified couldn't have been taken as a good sign.
"They seem to like you," Giles eventually said, as one of the pups bounded onto my lap and tried to lick my face. "It took me ages to get them to even come close to me."
Nodding, I gently pushed the puppy down. It wagged its tail, before ghosting through my hand in another attempt to slobber me.
Giles laughed as I pulled my hand back, massaging some warmth back into my fingers.
"That one did that to me as well," he said.
Grinning, I tentatively petted the puppy on the head as other pups began to crawl onto my lap for attention.
"So," Giles said as Baudu began to gnaw on one of the mutton bones. "Mémaen's taking you shopping for a new wand tomorrow. Why do you want to go to Diagon Alley instead of Place Cachée?"
"I haven't been there in years," I explained. "Not since before I started Hogwarts. I want to see if anything's changed."
"Fair enough," Giles nodded. "Any idea of what you're going to do with your broken wand?"
I shook my head. I had some idea, but I couldn't really tell Giles that I was thinking of turning it into a blasting rod. They were illegal after all.
Baudu huffed, and suddenly, all attention was on her. With the bone still in her mouth, she stood up and walked straight through the hedge, as if it wasn't there. The puppies followed shortly behind, ghosting through the foliage.
"Well then," Giles said, watching as the last of the black pups disappeared. "I think it's about time for our little picnic. Could you chill the drinks?"
Grinning, I cast a quick Kryono on the bottle handed to me and sat back, staring at the blue sky up above.
This year, I wasn't going to involve myself in plots, or challenges. I only had two years left. Two years to learn from Dumbledore, to explore magic, and to research spells.
Watching clouds drifting by, I hoped that when I left this world, it'd be better off than in Canon.
I don't know what I'd do if I found I'd made things worse.
Wands and windfall.
Lugging my trunk through the crowded corridors of the Hogwarts Express, I nervously twirled my new wand, while absently greeting classmates and fellow Hufflepuffs.
The whole experience of getting a new wand had been weird. For one thing, I hadn't expected the wands to feel so emotive. As I'd sampled them, it was almost like I could sense their distrust, and I could tell which wands weren't right for me from how they seemed to almost bristle at my touch.
In my hand, I felt a feeling of contentment that I hadn't noticed in my last wand. It was almost like the warmth of a fireplace, or the purring of a cat. I guess when Olivander said the wand chooses the wizard, he really meant it.
"Carnac!"
Glancing back, I grinned as Hermione bustled towards me with her own overstuffed trunk.
"How've you been?" She asked. "Did you have a good Summer?"
"It was relaxing," I told her, still slowly making my way down the corridor in search of an empty compartment. "How about with you? Did you end up going anywhere, or did you stay local?"
"I went to France," she said excitedly. "We ended up staying in Marseille and visited the beaches there. I tried to find the city's magical district too, but it's pretty well hidden."
"Sounds like you had a good Summer," I commented, finally finding an empty compartment. "It's a shame you couldn't track down the magical district, though. My Père said that Rue de la Charmeur, Marseille's magical street, is a great place to buy magical keepsakes and enchanted souvenirs."
"Yeah," Hermione said with a dramatic sigh, following me into the compartment. "It's a shame. So, what did you end up doing? Did you go anywhere?"
"I mostly stayed on Guernsey," I said, lugging her trunk into the racking after my own, "My Mémaen and I did visit Diagon Alley though. Had to go shopping for a new wand. That was pretty interesting, especially since I haven't been there in years-"
I was interrupted as the sliding door slammed open and Neville stepped in.
"Hey Neville," Hermione said with cheer, but he just stared at me.
Then, stepping forward, he wrapped me in a hug.
What in Puck's name? I froze, unsure what to do. Why was he hugging me?
"Thank you," Neville sniffled.
Was he crying?
"It's okay mate," I said awkwardly, patting him on the back. "You good?"
"Yeah." Neville let go, rubbing his eyes. "Just… thank you. You were right about the moly."
I nodded, completely lost. Yeah, it was good I was right about snowdrop being another name for moly, and I knew Neville liked his plants, but that hug seemed a bit excessive.
"We started growing it just after Christmas last year," Neville said, not looking me in the eye. "They started remaking old Roman potions at St Mungo's Hospital to give to patients…"
Okay. The context wasn't clearing things up.
"Did you manage to corner the market?" I asked tentatively. "I mean, if you did, then congratulations. Moly will be a good cash crop."
"That's not it!" Neville stated, shaking his head vehemently, "it's my parents!"
Oh! Holy shit!
Grinning, I patted him on the shoulder.
"Are they recovering?" I asked. "Are the potions actually curing them?"
Neville nodded, wiping his eyes again.
"They spoke to me," he said shakily, giving me a watery smile. "They asked me how I'm doing… Thank you!"
I gave him another supportive pat on the shoulder, guiding him to a seat.
"I'm happy for you mate," I said sincerely. "Merlin! I wish I'd thought to mention moly sooner. If I'd known it'd work this well…"
"Congratulations Neville!" Hermione said, giving him a toothy grin. "How soon do the doctors say it'll be before your mum and dad are fully recovered?"
"They think they'll be mostly back to normal by the end of the year," Neville said softly, as if in disbelief. "They asked me how I was finding school… they said they were proud of me…"
Sharing a glance with Hermione, I sat down next to Neville and put an arm over his shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. I wasn't good at this touchy-feely stuff, but by Merlin, I was going to put in the effort for Neville.
Slowly, we managed to coax some conversation out of the bewildered guy, and the talk soon turned to his new wand.
"I was using my Dad's wand before," Neville told us, "but he'll need it back soon, so my Gran took me to get a new one. It's cherry and unicorn hair, and Olivander said that it's extra flexible and that it'll be loyal to a fault, whatever that means."
"Didn't you also get a new wand, Carnac," Hermione asked as Neville glanced around owlishly, as if unsure why things were going his way. "You said your one broke during… you know."
Nodding, I pulled out my new wand and held it flat.
"Willow and dragon heartstring," I said softly. Dragon heartstring was tough, durable, powerful, and easily swayed, while willow was a wood of healing and death. Needless to say, the wandlore I'd uncovered hadn't put me at ease about my new wand and what it said about me.
As the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station in the twilight of the evening, the conversation was a lot less stilted and hesitant. Luna had appeared from somewhere with one of the new Monster books of Monsters, and Hermione had spent the rest of the train ride complaining about how she thought Hagrid's class would be, while I tried to pet the rabid textbook. I will say, even if her comments on Hagrid were a bit scathing, it at least got Neville to open up from his state of disbelief.
"Why do you even want to take Magical Creatures?" he asked as we disembarked the train. "Aren't you taking every other elective?"
"And don't some of them take up the same class slots?" I asked with a small grin.
Hermione shot me a warning glare before turning to Neville. She knew that I knew about the time-turner, but I wasn't going to say anything. It was a Ministry secret after all, and I was still very leery about getting the attention of that corrupt mess.
"I want to see what it's like," Hermione said. "It's interesting to learn all sorts of different types of magic, and I'm sure that even with Hagrid teaching, we'll learn lots."
"What electives did you take, Neville?" I asked before Hermione could begin ranting about the new professor again.
"Divination and Magical Creatures," he said. "I heard they're the easiest-"
"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, looking scandalised. "This is an opportunity to learn new magic! And you're just…"
"Sit at the back in Divination," I recommended, causing Hermione to stare at me in shock. "I heard that Professor Trelawney has a nasty habit of picking someone new every year to constantly predict the death of."
"What‽" Hermione demanded. "Are you serious‽"
I nodded, glancing at Luna as she wandered over to the front of the nearest carriage. Probably to pet the Thestral.
"Excuse us," a familiar voice asked.
"Might we borrow little Le Fay for a moment?" a second one queried.
I sighed as the twins casually draped their arms over my shoulders.
Hermione was suddenly anxiously looking at the carriages as if searching for an escape, while Neville seemed to shrink in on himself. Figures they wouldn't want to interact with the twins after last year. Luna, however, waved at them.
"You guys go on ahead," I told them. "I'll catch up. And Luna, remember that you have to sit at Ravenclaw table for the opening feast."
Luna stuck out her tongue at me, and skipped off to the carriage, the two Gryffindors following quickly behind.
"Luna sat with Ginny before on the train," George commented, watching them go.
"It was pretty funny," Fred said. "They were in the same compartment as Ron and Harry. Those two didn't know what to think of her."
"Did she take part in the accusations last year?" I asked wearily.
"Nah," George said with a small laugh. "She just sat on the sidelines, watching it all like a Quidditch match."
"I'm pretty sure she didn't believe that Harry was the one that petrified you," Fred added.
"Although, from the way those two were acting around her, you'd think she was right in on the plot."
I nodded, watching as the carriage rolled away.
"What do you want to talk to me about?" I finally asked.
"We both received new Gringotts keys," Fred said, pulling a plain iron key out of his robes. "Ginny got one as well."
I nodded. It looks like Dumbledore came through with divvying out the basilisk money.
"How much?" I asked.
"We thought you were the one who set it all up," George said cautiously.
"I got Dumbledore to do it," I said dismissively. "It's for your troubles in slaying the basilisk, or, in Ginny's case, for dealing with being possessed by Riddle."
The twins stared at me incredulously.
"Carnac," Fred said slowly, "you were the one who ended up petrified."
Shrugging, I shook my head.
"I don't want money," I said. "I have my own stash squirrelled away." Otherwise known as the Room of Requirement.
"We got almost Seventy-thousand Galleons," Fred said. "Each."
I nodded, trying to work through the math. A 350-pound snake, converted directly into 350 pounds of gold, then converted again into wizarding currency equals… no clue. Never was any good at math.
"What're you going to spend it on?" I asked as we hopped into an awaiting carriage. "In the other timeline, Harry gave you his winnings from the Triwizard tournament, and you used it to open a joke shop. You going to do that here as well?"
Fred frowned slightly while George grimaced.
"We told mum about one of the vaults," he said. "We ended up visiting Egypt to see our brother there."
I blinked. They spent the money on a holiday? I'm pretty sure that happened in Canon as well, but I'd thought the Weasleys would at least have a bit of sense when it came to handling the sudden windfall.
"It was good to see Bill, though," Fred said. "We got to see some of the old tombs."
"Please tell me you didn't shove your brother in one of them," I said, recalling that little tidbit from the books.
"Please don't start, Carnac," Fred groaned. "We already got our ears chewed off by Mum and Bill."
"If we'd known the next chamber had a husk spell on it, we wouldn't have done it," George said, white-faced. "Ron wasn't hurt, but Bill still showed us the chamber."
"It was full of shrivelled muggle corpses," Fred said with a shiver.
The rest of the carriage ride was spent in grim silence as I watched the twins incredulously.
Sometimes, wizards can be so frustrating, what with their recklessness and lack of common sense. I guess it's a symptom of having magic, but still…
Sighing, I slumped back just as the carriage ground to a halt. I need an easy year, without drama and buffoonery.
Something that I probably won't get at Hogwarts.
Siriusly?
Don't mind me. I'm just fixing the plot hole (and covering up the accidental case of Weasley bashing).
Thursday the second was spent meeting classmates and discussing holidays. Apparently, beyond the trip to Egypt, Fred and George had spent the Summer doing renovations on the Burrow.
"So, let me get this straight," I asked as we wandered through the corridors, Luna trailing behind. "You spent a thousand Galleons on the Holiday?"
"And the rest on fixing up the house," George said with an eye-roll. "It was actually pretty interesting seeing the wards being set up. Bill arranged for some freelancers he knew to swing around and do all that, although the Ministry taxes were absurd!"
"It cost sixty-eight thousand to fix your house up?" I asked.
"Not quite," George said. "We've still got some money in Gringotts, but the warding took a big chunk out of the budget."
"You should have seen the inspector they sent around," Fred said with a laugh. "I think Percy fell in love! He was following the guy around like a lost puppy, asking all sorts of questions and trying to seem professional!"
"They also took the roof off," Luna piped up. "A whole bunch of people came in and levitated it off."
"It was terrifying!" Fred said, wide-eyed. "One moment we were in our room, the next, we were covered in termites and ants and cockroaches!"
"Ron refused to go into the house until the pest-wranglers came around," George added. "He said he saw some massive spiders in the upstairs bathroom!"
"I could hear your mum from our house," Luna said solemnly. "She didn't seem very happy."
"That was probably her telling Dad that she didn't want electric lights installed," Fred said, equally serious.
"It sounds like you had an interesting Summer," I said, trying not to laugh at the Twin's exaggerated expressions of dismay.
"Just wait until we tell you about the wood-preservation enchantments," George told me. "We think that if we tweak them, we'll be able to perfect the trick wands we're working on."
"They always catch on fire," Fred said with a firm nod. "Hopefully we can move past that now!"
On the Friday, I was up early and prepared. I only had two classes that day, Ancient Runes and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I couldn't wait to get back into the swing of things.
After being paralysed most of last year, I hoped I'd be able to catch up.
"This year," Professor Babbling said cheerfully, "we'll be learning how to use runes as a conduit for magic. Now, who can tell me the field of magic runes are most used in? Miss Bell?"
"Alchemy? Professor?" Katie Bell asked.
"Close," professor Babbling chuckled, "although the symbols used in Alchemy don't count as runes… Mr. Mars?"
"Charms, Professor?" Sampson Mars asked.
"Yes!" Professor Babbling said, clapping her hands together. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Charms, particularly enchanting, is what runes are most used for. Speaking the spell forms the idea of the magic, and the wand pointing gives it a direction, but if you want to make it stick, then runes are the easiest way."
"Professor?" Cormac McLaggen said, raising his hand. "I thought potions were commonly used in enchanting? Like how photos need to be soaked in a potion to get them to move."
"Potions!" Professor Babbling scoffed. "Potions are used for brooms and paintings, but a potion won't soak into metal or stone. No! Runes are used in enchanting. It's far easier to just draw on the runes in ink and rub them off once the magic is done, compared to brewing up a potion every time you want to enchant a broom or chess set… anyway, enough about that. It may not be as flashy, or diverse as wand waving, but it's a craft that, when mastered, can help you make your mark! Now then, today we'll be discussing the Egyptian cartouche and how it can be used as a bracket to isolate sections of runic cipher to prevent cascading effects…"
I leaned forward, fascinated. My Mémaen had a job enchanting toys, so I was vaguely aware of all this, but I didn't think we'd be covering it so soon.
Interesting indeed.
After lunch was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I trudged up to the classroom with much on my mind.
I'd known that without Sirius as a fugitive, Lupin wasn't going to get the job, so I'd been prepared for some no-name curse breaker or Auror to pick up the roll. Surprisingly, instead, a familiar name had appeared on the teacher roster.
Taking a seat at the side of the class, I waited, both curious and apprehensive. Curious, because I had no idea what the new Professor's teaching style was, and apprehensive, because how in Pucks name should I feel about Sirius Black teaching so soon after being let out of Azkaban?
"Alright class!" the new Professor announced after the roll call. "I'll be your new Defence teacher for this year."
A few people began to mutter, but Sirius Black just grinned widely and continued regardless.
"Now," he said, "I've been told I can't have you call me Sirius, but Professor makes me sound old, and Black makes me think of my father, so go ahead and just call me Sirius. I promise I won't mind."
The talking was a low murmur now, dispersed by a few giggles. I put my head in my hands and sighed. Dear Puck, why?
"Last year," he continued, "you covered dark creatures with Lockhart. Unfortunately, since he's a glory hound who stole his reputation from greater witches and wizards, we're all going to have a refresher today to see if he actually taught you anything."
A few of my classmates groaned or grimaced, and several of the girls looked like they wished Lockhart was here so they could personally hex him.
I, however, tried not to smirk. Dumbledore had come through with the arrest of that golden-haired fop after all.
After a rather unconventional lesson, filled with avid discussion and Sirius's first-hand accounts of his own experiences with grindylow and redcaps, I was conflicted. On one hand, the new Professor Black was a pro at keeping everyone's attention on the lesson, through the use of tall tales and magical effects. On the other hand, though, I could see the cracks; the moments where Sirius Black paused, pale-faced, or else seemed to slip into a daze while recounting fonder memories.
I was just at the door when Sirius called out; "Carnac! Could you stay behind for a moment?"
Turning around, I faced the man. Uncertain of how to treat him.
He, on the other hand, leaned against his desk with a strangely serious expression.
"Dumbledore told me that you were the one who let him know I was innocent."
I nodded uncertainly.
Sirius smiled weakly.
"Thank you for that," he said, and I noticed a slight tremble in his voice. "He said that you know the future and that I would have broken out anyway… I'm not too sure if I believe that, the seeing the future bit, I mean, but, all the same, thank's for letting Dumbledore know about me…"
I stared at the man as he closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. I didn't know how to treat him. I was never very good around people who were emotional or working through things.
"I owe you," Sirius finally said, looking at me with steel in his eyes. "If there's anything you need, let me know."
I was about to open my mouth to say on impulse that it was fine and that he didn't owe me anything, when I paused. There was actually something.
"Professor," I said hesitantly. "Do you think…" I paused again. Was it a good idea to ask Sirius Black when I was pretty sure he was in a fragile state of mind?
"Oh, you've got me intrigued now," Black said, expression open and mischievous as he leaned back against his desk. "Is it a Prank? Is there a girl you're interested in?"
"It's not that," I said adamantly. "I was wondering if you could help me become an animagus?"
Sirius Black's smile grew into a grin.
"I can definitely help with that!" he said. "I assume you already know about my talent? Is that why you're asking?"
I nodded, second-guessing my decision already.
"Well then," Sirius said. "There isn't a moment to waste! Follow me!"
I trailed behind the man as he practically skipped to the door. The only reason I'd asked him was because the ritual seemed difficult, and I wasn't willing to risk permanent disfiguration for the chance to turn into a naked mole-rat or a praying mantis. I needed guidance and someone with experience.
I should have probably asked McGonagall.
"Keep up!" Sirius called, bounding up the staircase as it began to shift. "I want to catch the old bat before she decides it's happy hour!"
What in Puck's name? Shaking my head, I picked up my pace. Happy hour? Who was he talking about?
As we climbed up and up, I began to realise where we were headed. Finally, at the top of a spiral staircase, we paused for breath and Sirius grinned at me toothily.
"I'll just see if the Professor is sober," he said. "I'll give you a call if it's alright to come up."
I stared around the small landing, trying to get some idea of where we were and why we were here. Finally, I spotted a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, set with a brass plaque.
"You are joking? Right?" I asked as Sirius let out one final breath before standing up straight. "Why are we here?"
"Come on Carnac," Sirius said cheekily. "Surely you know the benefit of foresight."
I stared at him incredulously. I had to deal with the twins, but even with that experience, I was at my limit with this marauder. Before I could open my mouth to say something rude, Sirius Black pulled out his wand, and with a flick, opened the trapdoor and summoned down a silvery ladder.
"I'll give you a call in a sec," he said, before climbing up into the classroom above, leaving me alone.
Sighing, I slumped back against the wall and rubbed the bridge of my nose. How was it that I felt more mature than the bloody Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor? And what in Puck's name did the animagus ritual have to do with Professor I-black-out-and-speak-prophecy Trelawney?
I didn't have much time to contemplate the fact that I'd be meeting someone who theoretically could trap me with a prophecy, as soon, Sirius was calling me up
"Carnac, this is Professor Trelawney, the local expert on seeing the future," he said as I exited the trapdoor. "Sybil, this is Carnac Le Fay. He's got a bit of skill in foretelling the future. I'll leave you two to chat while I check out the attic."
I gave the man the evil eye as he disappeared up another ladder into the ceiling, before turning to the Professor, who was watching me closely with a slightly confused expression. With her glasses and bejewelled shawl, she looked almost like some exotic insect.
I wanted to be anywhere else but here. The last thing I wanted was for her to blackout and blurt out a new prophecy about me.
"It is good to see you in the physical world at last," she said in a soft, almost misty voice. "I've been expecting you for a while now. I've found that those of us born with the Sight often seek out places of quiet seclusion from the hustle and bustle below."
"True enough," I said, keeping my face blank and my mind calm. I didn't want to be here.
"My child," she continued, peering through those magnifying glasses with massive eyes, "Professor Black tells me you are gifted with foreknowledge and that you seek to hone your skills."
I suppressed the urge to scowl. Why the hell was Sirius talking about that to Trelawney of all people?
"My gift is limited," I said vaguely. "While I could hone it, It wouldn't allow me to look beyond what I already know. Only closer at what I've already seen."
There! Nice and vague.
"A shame," Trelawney said softly, "but to be expected. Not all of us are gifted enough to have our inner eyes open to the entirety of the future…"
"A shame," I agreed, glancing to the trapdoor and then to the ladder where Sirius had disappeared. My calm expression almost slipped when I saw him standing there. Grinning.
"Thank you for your assessment, Sybill," he said, giving Trelawney a roguish grin. "It really is a shame not everyone is as gifted in the Sight as you."
The professor nodded, looking slightly flustered and I glanced at the trapdoor again.
"We'll be off now to leave you to your contemplations," Sirius said, cutting in front of me before I could make my escape. "But I'm sure Carnac would love to return sometime in the future for further advice."
I stared at Black with a flat face. Was he trying to make me hate him?
"Well, yes," Trelawney murmured as we climbed down the ladder. "Until we meet again."
As the trapdoor clicked shut, I turned on Sirius. He'd bloody trapped me in the room with a conduit of fate! Someone who could bind my future with a prophecy!
"Here you go," Sirius said, handing the dusty tome to me. "I knew we'd left one behind!"
"Secrets of the Third eye?" I read, glancing between the Professor and the book. Okay, it was official. Sirius was nuts if he thought this would help with the animagus ritual.
"Page sixty-two," Sirius said triumphantly. "The newer copies don't cover scrying, but these older versions go over it in a bit of detail."
Flicking through the chapters, I reached the right page. It was on predicting the weather.
"The final step of the animagus ritual requires a thunderstorm," Sirius said cheerfully. "That'll help you time it. You also need dew from a place neither sunlight or human feet have touched in seven days. The scrying spells on page twelve will help you find that."
I closed the book with a snap and glared at Sirius Black.
"You okay kid?" he asked, and I took a deep breath, swallowing my anger.
"Please never do that again," I said with emotionless voice.
"What?" Sirius asked, looking surprised. "Were you nervous around Trelawney? You know she's a fraud? Right?"
"She was the one who gave the prophecy that lead to Voldemort…" I paused. No, it was probably not a good idea to go there with this guy. That'd just be asking for trouble. "She can give prophecies," I finally said, "and the entire time I was there, I was terrified she was going to bind my future to an outcome."
Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Don't worry kid," he said dismissively. "Whatever you've heard, it's probably not true. I think Dumbledore just keeps her around to fill the position… anyway, Professor Sprout should still be in the Greenhouses at the moment. If we hurry we can get the mandrake leaf for the ritual. The trick for it is to use a sticking charm on it. The first time my friends and I tried to do the ritual, we all ended up spitting it out or swallowing it in our sleep. The spell will help you keep it in your mouth for the luna month… The last full moon was on the first, so we just missed it. I think the next one is on the thirtieth. Depending on when the next thunderstorm rolls in, you may have the ritual done and dusted before Christmas!"
I followed Sirius back down the spiral staircase as he continued to talk, silently listening.
Being dismissed so casually kind of stung. I knew I was technically a kid and all that, but the fact that Sirius was happy to just dismiss all evidence of foreknowledge was weird. Especially since he was putting so much faith in scrying spells.
I shrugged. If he didn't believe, then It wasn't my problem, and I was not going to make a big deal out of it.
As we reached the ground floor, I was a bit less prickly and a bit more excited.
Sirius was helping me out after all, and he'd gotten me a book on useful magic. He may be a little mad, but if this works, I'll be the one that owes him.
I just hope my animagus form is something cool.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
The headmaster's summons.
With the excitement of the animagus ritual, and the struggle to stay on top of my classwork, I'd completely forgotten the fact I was in an apprenticeship with Dumbledore.
Two weeks into the term, I was abruptly reminded of that, when, on a quiet Saturday morning, a house-elf appeared in front of me while I was studying in the library.
"Merlin!" I almost shouted, quickly looking around to see if Madam Pince was nearby. "What in Puck's name! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Dobby is sorry, sir," the house-elf said, and I froze.
"Dobby?" I asked.
"Yes sir," the elf said, "Dobby is Dobby. Professor Dumbledore said you is knowing of Dobby!"
I nodded slowly, thoughts racing. I'd mentioned Dobby to Dumbledore in one of the letters, but I hadn't expected anything to come of it.
"How are you free?" I asked hesitantly.
The elf's eyes grew wide, and he glanced around nervously.
"Old Master Malfoy…" he said hesitantly, reaching for one of the heavier books stacked on the table before stopping himself. "Professor Dumbledore sent Old Master a sock, sir. It was charmed so Old Master is compelled to give it to Dobby."
I nodded slowly. It seemed that Dumbledore was working away behind the scenes, following up on my advice.
"I is working in the kitchens now," Dobby said brightening up. "The other elves are speaking of you. Saying you're a good student. I is having to agree! Carnac Le Fay is a great wizard for telling Professor Dumbledore about Dobby!"
I forced myself to smile instead of grimacing. Dobby had been an afterthought. A small note at the bottom of one of the many letters I'd sent to the headmaster.
I'd have to make an effort to visit him, and the other elves in the kitchens now that I knew they weren't holding Glirus's death against me…
Frowning, I wondered why I hadn't even thought of Glirus in so long. It wasn't that I'd forgotten. It was more like I'd repressed those thoughts…
"Dobby is here to deliver a message from Professor Dumbledore," the elf said cheerfully before I could begin to poke at painful memories. "He wants to meet you at twelve in his office. He says the password is 'Pepper Imps.'"
"Thanks, Dobby," I said, checking my watch. "It's good to see you're free."
The elf looked elated, bowing deeply, before disappearing with a crack. I stared at the spot where he'd disapperated, deep in thought.
By twelve, I was waiting at the entrance to the headmaster's office, watching the seconds tick down on my watch. The gargoyle wasn't much of a talker, and it was a good thing too, as I don't think I could have handled a conversation.
As the final second ticked away, I steeled myself, gave the password, and trudged up the stairs, pausing only another second, before knocking at the door.
"Come in."
The room was like I remembered it from last time. The assortment of silver doodads clicked away softly, the portraits of past headmasters pretended to sleep, and Fawkes crooned from his perch in the corner.
"Mr. Le Fay," Dumbledore said, standing to greet me. "So nice of you to join us. Come, take a seat! Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"No thanks," I said as I seated myself in the newly conjured chair, perching myself on the edge, hands clasped in front, and back straight.
"More for me then," Dumbledore chuckled, taking one from the bowl and sitting down. "Now, you must be wondering why I called you here."
"Is it for the apprenticeship?" I asked.
"Partially," Dumbledore said. "We'll get to that in good time, but first, I wanted to go over what you've helped me achieve with your foresight."
I sat up straighter, watching Dumbledore closely.
"Over the holidays, I made much progress," Dumbledore said. "You've already met Dobby, but beyond that, I have good news and bad news."
I waited expectantly.
"We'll start off with the good news," Dumbledore said cheerily. "The Horcruxes, for the most part, have been dealt with."
"All of them?" I asked in disbelief. "Seriously?"
"Most of them," Dumbledore corrected. "There are still three that need to be dealt with before Voldemort is rendered fully mortal."
I waited for Dumbledore to elaborate, but instead, he just sat there, eyes twinkling merrily.
"Which three?" I prompted.
"The cup, the ring, and Harry."
Again, he didn't elaborate, instead, sitting there with a contented expression.
"Aren't you able to leverage your political position to get into Gringotts?" I asked expectantly. "And, if you're worried about the ring, why can't you just employ curse-breakers under magically binding contracts with the stipulation they can't talk about it?"
"I see you've put much thought into this," Dumbledore commented, "but don't worry. I have plans in progress to attain the final two and destroy Harry's connection to Voldemort."
When he, once more, didn't elaborate, I sighed. Classic Dumbledore, keeping things close to his chest. At least he'd told me progress had been made.
"What's the bad news then?" I asked, changing the topic.
"Unfortunately, the trial of Lockhart isn't going well."
"He's still on trial?" I asked. "I thought he'd be in Azkaban by now!"
"Normally the proceedings would be complete," Dumbledore said, nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately, all the witnesses who could stand again Lockhart are still in the process of recovery. With the time available, many of Lockhart's fans are beginning to put pressure on the Ministry to drop the criminal charges altogether."
I stared at Dumbledore, slack-jawed. What the actual fuck‽
"All is not lost though," Dumbledore said. "The Deutsches Ministerium für Magie is putting pressure on Minister Fudge to extradite Gilderoy Lockhart. It turns out that in his account of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, Lockhart obliviated a high-standing member of the German Auror corps. In fact, I've heard the German Minister is planning to press charges against Lockhart for intellectual theft of the Homorphus charm. We'll see where that goes, as Gilderoy's accounts of the spell in 'Wanderings with Werewolves' haven't been replicable. Perhaps once the true hero of the story is cured, we will have another piece of magic to better aid werewolf-kind in dealing with their curse. Only time will tell."
I watched Dumbledore closely as he grabbed another lemon drop and popped it into his mouth with a smile of serene contentment. I was having a hard time trying to wrap my head around what he'd just told me. I guess I just hadn't fully processed how serious of an issue Gilderoy Lockhart was.
"Anyway," Dumbledore said eventually, still sucking on the candy, "I didn't just call you up here to go over recent developments. I've reviewed all the work you've done this past week, and all the refresher tests you've taken, and I must say, I'm surprised you've managed to keep abreast with your peers despite what transpired last year."
I shook my head slightly to dismiss my thoughts of Lockhart, before glancing at Dumbledore with a shrug.
"I was studying ahead back at the beginning of last year," I told him dismissively, "and over the holidays, I ended up going over everything again to make sure I hadn't fallen behind."
"You were studying Fourth-year spells at the beginning of your third year?" Dumbledore asked incredulously.
Again, I shrugged.
"I was studying all sorts of things," I said. "It's just that I stumbled across the theories behind some of the spellwork we're beginning to cover now."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, watching me closely with twinkling eyes.
"It's good to see such a bright mind at work," he finally said. "I dare say I shall have a very interesting time teaching you. This year, I had planned to go over the basics with you; exploring the theoretical side of the spellwork you're currently learning in class, except in more depth, but now I see I shall have to think up some more esoteric lesson plans if I'm to keep you interested."
I nodded slowly, feeling intrigued. What would we even be covering? Was it just going to be the theories behind magic?
"Next weekend," Dumbledore said, after giving me a long, thoughtful look, "we'll have our first lesson. I'll send a house-elf to fetch you. I'm thinking we can cover the cultural variation between different magical beings. It's been a while since I've had a chance to truly talk about the intricacies of merpeople culture, or the Goblin attitudes towards war and business."
I nodded, still not too sure what to say. I was excited, sure, but like with Sirius, I didn't know what Dumbledore was like as a teacher. Plus, I was still working through my preconceptions about him being a master manipulator.
"Does that sound agreeable to you?" Dumbledore asked. "If you have anything to add, feel free to let me know."
"There is actually one thing," I said hesitantly. "Although, it is slightly off-topic."
Dumbledore nodded, grabbing another sweet and gesturing for me to continue.
"I was just wondering about Sirius…"
"The new Professor Black?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "What about him?"
"He's been out of prison for how long?" I asked. "Has he even had a chance to recover?"
"My dear boy," Dumbledore said softly, "Sirius is much more resilient than you might suspect-"
"I know magic is brilliant," I said quickly, "but it can't fix mental scarring or emotional turmoil! I mean…"
"I think you're confusing Sirius's situation with Cornelius Agrippa's fifth law of charms."
I stared at the headmaster blankly, my train of thought derailed.
"Agrippa's law?" Dumbledore prompted. "That 'one cannot create true emotion, only pale imitations.' I do believe Agrippa used a rather poignant example in his work of how one cannot fight a dementor with the cheering charm, because it isn't true emotion. What I am asking is if you are referring to the emotional damage Sirius suffered as a cause of concern?"
I nodded blankly. I'd need to look up Agrippa's law of charms. Were they like Gamp's law?
"It's true that the healers at St Mungo's can't simply charm it so all Sirius's happy memories are restored," Dumbledore said softly, "but there are recent developments in the world of potions that have rapidly improved his condition. I'm sure you're aware, but recently, your friend, Mr. Longbottom, rediscovered moly. That alone has vastly improved Sirius's condition, to the point that he was given leave by his healer to teach this year."
I stared at Dumbledore, mind blank. I'd complained about wizards ignoring common sense and safety before because of access to magic, but to think that something I'd helped rediscover was aiding in that…
"Just because he can teach," I said, "doesn't mean he should teach…"
"I don't see why you are making an issue of this," Dumbledore said. "Isn't Sirius aiding you in your animagus ritual?"
I shut my mouth with a click. He knew‽ Of course he knew…
"You don't have to worry too much," Dumbledore said softly. "As I said, Sirius is recovering rapidly."
I didn't answer. I was suddenly very aware that despite his genial attitude, and aged appearance, Dumbledore was still a powerful wizard and a tactician at heart. I was an idiot to forget that.
"Now then," Dumbledore said, standing up, "If there is nothing else, I shall let you get back to enjoying your weekend. I know you must have homework to work through. I'll see you next Saturday, Mr. Le Fay."
Nodding, I hurriedly made my exit.
I needed to remember who Dumbledore was. He wasn't a friend, or even just a teacher, he was a politician, a tactician and a leader of war. Someone who knew about sacrifice, and who needed to make tough decisions.
He may not be as manipulative as in some fanfics, but it wasn't wise for me to simply share my every doubt and weakness with him.
I couldn't let myself forget that.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
Trocar's warning.
Pushing through the bustle of Honeydukes on the Halloween Hogsmeade visit, I stared at the display cases of chocolate frogs and massive jars filled with gobstoppers and toffees and hard-boiled lollies.
Looking at a jar of 'lawn-flavoured' Faud Shaughran squares, I felt sick. The whole reason I was in Honeydukes was to buy something sweet to get the aftertaste of mandrake leaf out of my mouth.
Yesterday was a full moon, the last night of the luna month, and the last night I'd had to endure everything tasting like mandrake. I'd been up most of it, trekking the hills around Hogwarts and trying to track down a teaspoon worth of dew that hadn't been exposed to moonlight in seven days. It turns out, scrying spells are very dodgy when there's too much magical interference, so it had been a very long night.
Sighing, I moved away from the lawn-flavoured squares. The potion was mostly done. I just had to wait for the next thunderstorm, do a bit of spellwork twice a day, and not think about the vial of mandrake leaf, saliva, hair, dew, and hawk moth chrysalis that's slowly maturing in the Room of Lost Things.
Glancing at the next jar of sweets, I still felt sick. Who even eats some of this stuff? I mean, cockroach cluster? Disgusting.
Glaring at the twitching pile of candy, I was idly wondering what it even tasted like, when a cold hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Carnac Le Fay. I told you we would meet again."
I stared up at the ashen face of Trocar, as he watched me with a toothy grin, revealing the tips of his fangs.
"Let's take this outside," he said in a low voice. "I'm sure we have much to talk about."
"No," I hissed. We were surrounded by people, and I wasn't about to let the blood-sucking bastard drag me somewhere quiet.
Trocar blinked slowly.
"Why the hostility?" he asked. "I mean you no harm. The last time we saw each other, it was my departure from Hogwarts. I had an offer for you then-"
"The last time we met," I interrupted, "I was scared shitless. Now, what do you want!"
Trocar's mouth quirked as if he was trying to remain serious. Slowly, he pulled something out of his robes.
"Des Regarder."
The sounds of the bustling shoppers became more distant, and the people began to give us space, steering clear of us as we stood in the centre of the shop floor.
I watched in horror as Trocar slowly returned the wand to the folds of his black robes and glanced at me.
"Now that we can talk more freely," he said. "I do believe congratulations are in order."
I continued to stare at where Trocar had tucked the wand into his robes. Vampires, like Goblins and house-elves, were banned from wand ownership. The fact that he'd used it in the middle of a crowded shop meant he was either extremely confident in his abilities, or extremely stupid.
And I didn't think it was the second option.
"I haven't met a half-breed as wily as you since I had to hunt down the last of the Bucca of Cornwall," he said, giving me another flash of his teeth. "You truly have done well for yourself these last few years; becoming the apprentice of this age's greatest wizard… I suppose that is one way to turn down my offer to teach you."
Gulping, I glanced around. Schoolmates sampled the sweets and customers crowded the counter, entirely ignoring Trocar's conversation with me. I was alone.
"You can consider my offer withdrawn," Trocar said before I could open my mouth. "Apprenticeship magic is finicky at the best of times, and I do not wish to disturb the bond between master and apprentice and deprived you of your lessons. Especially not with the new reign of the Dark Lord to come."
I froze. Only followers of Voldemort referred to him as the Dark Lord.
"What did you do?" I whispered.
"I set events in motion," Trocar said. "I whispered in the ears of those who followed the Dark Lord in the first war, tracking down those who were truly willing to aid him."
I stared at Trocar, wide-eyed. We'd stopped Pettigrew before he could help his master. That alone should have bought us years while Voldemort recovered…
"Why?" I asked hoarsely. "Why in Puck's name would you do something so stupid!"
"To set the scene for a new age," Trocar said. "The Ministry is rotten to the core. Magical Britain is a mere shadow of what it was during the height of the British Empire, and so, I have set events in motion to burn it down."
I stared at the vampire, slack-jawed. Unable to comprehend what he was even saying.
"Magical Britain needs change," Trocar continued fiercely. "It's still mired in the bigotry and corruption from before the war. Foreign wizarding families have flooded in, and the number of muggle-borns has swelled, both bringing new ideas and ways of life to our world, yet they are held back by the few who resist change. So, Voldemort must rise. The old way must burn, and you, little Le Fay, shall guide Britain to a brighter future."
"You'd have war and death for a dream?" I spat, hating Trocar's vision, and hating myself for, in some small way, agreeing with it. The Ministry had to change, but destroying it would only create a power vacuum for some new Dark Lord to fill.
"I've seen the ebb and flow of centuries," Trocar almost snarled. "I'll have whatever it takes to make our country strong. You will play your part, Le Fay. Just like countless others have before you."
I glared at the blood-sucker defiantly. He was fucking insane.
Slowly, Trocar regained his composure, straightening his robes and brushing back his hair.
"My part is done," he said coldly, looking down at me. "Now it is time to do yours. Tell your teacher what has transpired here, and draw the battle lines, for there shall be war. I wish you luck."
Without another word, he turned and left the store and the noise of chatter returned as his spell broke. I stood there, frozen in place. Appetite gone.
After everything I'd done, things were still going ahead. Voldemort was still going to rise.
Growling in frustration, I pushed my way out the door.
At least now we had that Puck damned bastard weak and vulnerable.
There wouldn't be a war. There would be an execution.
The dream.
Harry dreamed he was in the Divinations classroom. Professor Trelawney was prophesizing his death again.
"You have a Grim for a godfather, my child," she said, pulling anxiously at her shawl. "That means you're going to get murdered by a snake!"
Trelawney morphed into Snape, still dressed in the same shawl, robe, and glasses, except now with a vulture-topped hat.
"The only cure for snakebite," he said coldly, "is a combination of the herb betony, wine, and earwax."
The dream shifted again, to Carnac Le Fay, perched on Dumbledore's throne-like chair in the great hall.
"He's right you know," Le Fay said snootily, in a voice that sounded like Malfoy's. "Now shoo! I have a secret meeting with Sirius before my lunchtime lesson with Dumbledore. I'm going to become a lord!"
"My lord?"
Harry felt sore, prickly, and angry.
"What is it?" he asked, forcing his jaw to work. "What is the news?"
"Alecto should be arriving soon," he said, his jaw moving on its own accord.
Harry waited. Wrestling control from his host for a simple head-nod of acknowledgment was beneath him.
"She said she's retrieved the gold dust and the coral powder," his host continued shakily, repeating old news, "but she's still having trouble getting the basilisk venom… "
"And our guest?" Harry asked softly, more to make his host sweat than anything else.
"Alecto will be bringing him now."
Harry hummed softly in acknowledgment, enjoying the prickle of fear his host felt. Soon he'd have a proper body.
Soon.
Finally, the door to the room opened and two figures walked in, kneeling before him.
"My lord," Alecto Carrow said, not daring to look up. "I have returned with what you asked."
Harry nodded, eyeing the young man she had brought.
"What is your name," he asked.
"Scabior Turner, My Lord," the man said, eyes firmly on the floor. "It is an honour to be chosen for this."
Without responding, Harry forced his host to stand and step forward, then-
Standing from his kneeling position, Harry looked around, rolling Scabior's head and overcoming the young man's initial panicked attempts to resume control. Alecto rushed to her fallen brother, pulling out her wand to see if Amycus Carrow was still breathing.
Turning away, Harry strode back to the throne, sitting just as Amycus began to stir.
"Fetch me the unicorn blood," he said.
Soon he'd be whole again.
Soon.
In the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry sat up, suddenly very awake.
Scrabbling for his glasses, he struggled out of bed, rushing down the cold steps to the Gryffindor common room, bare foot.
He needed to tell Sirius what had happened.
Albus's contemplations
Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, facing the portraits of the past headmasters, deep in thought.
Moonlight streamed through the window, and, behind him, magical torches flickered merrily, painting his office in orange hues. Despite the comfortable atmosphere, Dumbledore's thoughts were dark.
"How could this happen?"
"My boy, how could you have known?" Headmaster Dippet counselled from his frame. "From all the information that the fay-boy gave you, how could you have possibly predicted this?"
"From my experience," Headmaster Black said snidely, leaning forward within his painting, "the only thing that one can be sure of about a vampire is that they work only for their own interests. They should have been wiped out as soon as they stopped being useful. If only you'd listened to my advice when Trocar applied to teach."
"No one could have known back then that the vampire would do something so heinous," Headmaster Gagwilde said, fiddling with a chess piece from the table at his side. "What concerns me more is that You-Know-Who has changed his tactics from the boy's story."
"The half-breed," Black sneered. "Are we sure he isn't just working with the vampire? What if he lied to you about the time of the Dark Lord's return to throw you off-"
"Phineus Black!" Headmistress Derwent cried shrilly. "You go too far!"
"Enough!" Dumbledore said with steel in his voice, glaring at Phineus. "I will not have you level such accusations against my apprentice!"
The painting shrugged carelessly.
"What will you do, my boy," Headmaster Dippet asked timidly. "After all, if Tom is returning…"
The unsaid question hung in the air. This was unlike in Carnac Le Fay's account of the possible future.
For one, Voldemort was using possession to maintain a mortal form, instead of a homunculus. Curious, especially with the abundance of alchemical materials that should have made the second option more appealing.
Sighing, Dumbledore stood, walking to the window.
In the distance, across the Black Lake, the morning lights were beginning to flicker on in Hogsmeade, and beyond that, to the east, the first signs of dawn stained the sky pink.
"I fear it'll be like Carnac's account," Dumbledore said, more to himself than to the paintings. "Fudge won't listen…"
Turning away from the window, Dumbledore sighed. There were too many bridges burned in his attempts to resolve Carnac's warnings.
And Voldemort was returning at the most opportune time to take advantage of that.
The cancelation of the Triwizard cup had put him at odds with the Ministry. They'd hoped to capitalise on it by opening up Britain to sponsors in France, Romania, and Egypt. Now, with the contracts to import sphinx and dragons in tatters, those plans were unfeasible.
Dumbledore was just happy Barty Crouch had taken the brunt of the blame. But still, Fudge would not react well to more bad news. Not after Lockhart. Not after the Tournament. Not after the embarrassment with Sirius and yesterday's meeting about Trocar.
"Can the Potter boy's dream even be believed?" Phineus asked loudly. "For all we know, the Dark Lord's connection has just addled his brain."
"It lines up too well with what happened in the other time," Dumbledore said, returning to his seat before the portraits. "The question now is how to approach the situation without riling up the Ministry."
He was met by silence. None of the paintings could help with that. They didn't know the current Ministry.
Sighing, Albus leaned back. Even Carnac's recommendations of allies, of Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeor, weren't really options. For them to act, they'd need to go through the Minister after all… The only real option was to revive the Order of the Phoenix once more. Something that Fudge would only see in a negative light if he ever found out.
"There's no point worrying yourself to distraction over it," Headmaster Dippet said eventually. "Tom is at the disadvantage."
Albus nodded tiredly. They should have had years to prepare, but events were already playing out more quickly than in the other time.
He'd have to schedule a meeting at the Ministry for the morning. Even if it played out like Carnac's description of the other time, they needed to know.
Decision made, Dumbledore stood, composing himself.
It needed to be done. Even if it came at great personal cost.
It was a weight he was willing to bear.
Alone.
Last edited: Apr 6, 2022
Rita Skeeter
"So," Hermione said as we sat on the Hogwarts Express, heading back to London for the Christmas Holidays. "You think You-Know-Who is back?"
"Back in Britain at least," I said. "I don't think he's got a body though. At least, not yet."
"Why do you think that?" Luna asked dreamily, still watching the window and the snow-covered landscape fly by. "Wouldn't Dumbledore have told you?"
"He keeps his secrets," I said with a shrug. "Plus, I'm his apprentice, not his confidant. Still, though, I've seen the signs. The lessons have gone from goblin culture and arithmancy, to curse-breaking and battle magic. Plus, the Daily Prophet has been printing those articles…"
"I still can't believe that they've just turned on Dumbledore like that," Hermione huffed in frustration. "I mean, calling him a 'fear monger' when he's trying to tell the truth!"
"My Nan's canceled her subscription," Neville stated. "She said that it's all full of rot."
"My Dad's started doing articles about how to stay safe if there's another war," Luna added. "He said we have a responsibility to inform the people. Also, what's battle magic? Is it like duelling?"
"Less standing still and shooting spells, and more moving and transfiguration," I said. "Anyway, have all of you got plans in place in case things go south?"
Hermione glanced at Neville, who shrugged.
"My Nan has already strengthened the wards at home," he said. "My Dad's been bugging her about getting them up to code."
"Nice to know your dad's doing alright," I said with a grin. "Hermione?"
"I haven't told my parents yet," she said slowly. "I don't want to scare them. Especially if there's a chance You-Know-Who hasn't returned yet-"
"I recommend you tell them," I said carefully. "Better to give them a heads up instead of springing it on them at an inopportune time."
Hermione grimaced, but I pretended not to notice. Hopefully, if Voldemort did return, Hermione wouldn't end up resorting to obliviation this time.
"My Dad's always got the wards on," Luna said when I glanced at her, not even looking away from the window. "Some people just don't like the Quibbler for some reason."
I frowned, remembering how, in the books, Luna's home was destroyed. Were the wards active then?
"Have you got any solid reason to think You-know-who's back?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I can understand if Dumbledore is being cautious after Trocar, but that alone doesn't mean he's here, in Britain."
I looked pointedly at Neville, who sighed.
"About a week after Halloween," he said, "Seamus mentioned that Harry had woken up in the middle of the night and run off. I can't even remember what we were talking about, but it reminded me of something Carnac had mentioned…"
"You think Harry saw You-Know-Who in his dream?" Hermione asked nervously.
Luna turned away from the passing scenery and gave us all an inquisitive look.
"Harry has a connection to Voldemort through the curse on his scar," I explained, ignoring the flinches at my use of the Dark Lord's name. "In the other time, it allowed him to see what Tommy-no-nose was doing through his dreams. It may not be a solid indication, but together with everything else, it seems like he's back."
Luna watched me closely with a tilted head. She knew enough about magic to know that a connection between the curser and victim was rare. I didn't think she believed it was the case with Harry for a second, but I was not going to mention Horcruxes.
My friends didn't need to know about them.
"You said in the other time, Voldemort got back his body with Harry's blood?" Luna asked, and I sighed, thanking Puck that she wasn't going to call me out on the curse-scar excuse.
"I'm not too worried about that," I said. "Tom needed to hijack the Triwizard tournament for that to work, and now, Dumbledore knows to keep an eye out for that… although, maybe we could eliminate that risk if he destroys 'the bones of the father.'"
"I wonder why Dumbledore hasn't told you to keep it secret," Hermione said curiously. "I mean, the magic of a wizarding apprenticeship requires you to keep your master's secrets, and this is all the sort of thing that I'd think Dumbledore wouldn't want you talking about."
"He probably knows you're all trustworthy," I said, before pausing. "I didn't know that about the apprenticeship."
"Really?" Hermione asked. "Because I thought you knew… didn't you research it?"
"I had other things on my mind at the time," I said cautiously. "Are there any other effects of the magic that I should know about?"
"I mean," Neville spoke up hesitantly, "you know how you used to make all those little remarks about Dumbledore?"
I stared at him, mind whirring.
"And now I don't. So the magic stops me from saying bad things about him?"
"According to the book I read," Hermione said, glancing at Neville, "you can't besmirch his reputation."
I leaned back against the seat.
"And you both knew?" I finally asked.
"Hermione wrote to me about it over the Summer Holidays," Neville said. "We both just assumed you'd look this stuff up on your own."
Sighing, I shook my head. I should have, but I didn't really comprehend there'd be magical restrictions on my end. I guess, after Trocar's mention of magic being involved, I should have looked into it.
"Thanks for telling me now," I finally said. "But in the future, can you let me know if you think I'm under the influence of some elder ritual or something."
"Sorry Carnac," Hermione said softly. "We really thought you'd know."
I waved her apology off.
"As I said, just let me know in the future. It's not like I can really do anything about it now anyway…"
"I'm actually kind of jealous," Hermione said reluctantly. "I mean, not about the bindings, but you're still learning from Dumbledore!"
"Oh whatever, little miss I-have-a-time-machine-in my pocket," I said playfully.
"Carnac!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at me, before glancing at Neville and Luna.
"Don't worry," Neville said, holding up his hands. "I'm not going to ask."
"Is this the Tardis thing you were talking about before?" Luna queried.
"Honestly, Carnac," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. "How do you even know about Doctor Who?"
"Why do you think I took Muggle Studies?" I asked with a grin. "Muggle culture is awesome!"
"I thought you took it to find how magic affects eckeltricity," Neville said with a small grin. "You said you wanted to find out why technology doesn't work in Hogwarts."
"I found that out in the first week," I said with an eye roll." Turns out some of the wards fry software, and chizpurfles make short work of the rest. Now I'm just there to enjoy the easy class."
"Chizpurfles" Hermione asked, and Neville turned to her with an even bigger grin.
"Why, Hermione! don't tell me you haven't read Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests…?"
By the time we got off at Kings Cross, the talk of Voldemort was mostly forgotten and the conversation was solely focused on Lockhart.
"I wish you had told us!" Hermione said for the umpteenth time as we shuffled onto the platform, luggage floating behind us. "I mean, if I'd known…"
"Then you wouldn't have kept giving him doe eyes," I said casually.
"Doe eyes‽" Hermione exclaimed. "Doe eyes‽ Carnac Le Fay, what in Merlin's name do you mean by doe eyes‽"
Laughing, I strode ahead as Hermione glared at me, muttering about me spending too much time with the twins. If only she knew it was actually Sirius Black that was the bad influence. Then perhaps she'd stop giving him the doe eyes.
"You have a good Christmas, Hermione," I told her as she glanced at the entryway to the muggle platforms. "I hope you enjoy the present I sent."
"Yeah, Merry Christmas Hermione," Neville agreed with a grin. "Have a good skiing trip!"
"Watch out for Tatzelwurms," Luna said dreamily. "I hear they like mountainous areas."
Hermione's glower slipped away and she laughed.
"You all have a merry Christmas as well," she said with a smile. "I hope you enjoy the presents I sent you. And, Carnac, next year I'll get you back. Doe eyes indeed!"
Laughing, we parted ways, Hermione heading to the muggle side, while Neville, Luna, and I made our way through the crowd towards the floo fireplaces.
We'd just gotten in line, when I spotted a flash of acid green.
Oh shit!
"Rita Skeeter, from the Daily Prophet!" the woman said with a wide grin, appearing out of the throngs of people. "I was hoping I could ask a few questions?"
I schooled my face into an expression of pleasant disinterest, even as I mentally cursed the reporter. I hadn't mentioned her animagus to Dumbledore. How had I forgotten to mention her animagus form to Dumbledore?
"Certainly," I said with a grin. "I'd be happy to! Although, I do need to catch the floo…"
"It'll only take a few minutes," Rita said, smiling widely with a flash of gold teeth. Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a notepad, and the quill that had been lingering behind her flashed forward.
I fought to keep my smile up. I couldn't leave, and I couldn't tell her to bugger off without repercussions. All I could do was limit my interaction and try to control how she portrayed me.
"So, Carnac, may I call you Carnac? What can you tell us about Professor Dumbledore's recent claims about You-Know-Who's return?"
"Well, Rita," I said slowly, trying to think how to phrase my response. "As I'm sure you're aware, recently a vampire by the name of Trocar resurfaced-"
"-The one who taught Defence three years ago?" Rita quickly asked, quill scribbling away.
"Yes, although I don't know the circumstances of his hiring. He made some rather bold claims about approaching You-Know-Who's followers in an attempt to return him to power-"
"-So, Professor Dumbledore hired a dark creature who sympathises with You-Know-Who's cause?" Rita queried.
So that was her angle. How in Puck's name could I turn it around?
"I think it'd be more correct to say that the Dark Creature in question weaselled his way into the Defence position by taking advantage of Headmaster Dumbledore's charitable nature-"
"-So you're saying Professor Dumbledore wasn't properly screening applicants for the Defence position?" Rita cut in again. "Which lead to cases like the recent debacle with Lockhart that has just resolved."
Well… she did have a point there. Let's try something different.
Giving a brief gesture for Neville and Luna to go, I turned to fully face Rita Skeeter, only for a camera flash to blind me as her lackey took the opportunity to snap a shot.
"Miss Rita," I said with as genuine a tone I could, blinking to try and regain my vision. "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure," she said offhandedly, more intent on reading what her quill was scribbling away.
"Does it bug you that Trocar is skittering around in the shadows, riling up Dark witches and Wizards?"
Rita Skeeter looked up with a start, staring at me with a piercing gaze, before slowly nodding.
"Certainly," she said.
"I mean," I continued, ignoring her tentative expression, "he's already causing the Ministry, to turn against their own Chief Warlock with stories about the return of You-Know-Who. It seems to me that he wants the government to be in turmoil…"
I stopped talking as Rita nodded, picking her quill out of the air and crossing out whatever had been written.
"You think Trocar is a rabble-rouser?" she asked. "Trying to cause disturbance within the ministry by spreading lies?"
"It's only natural Headmaster Dumbledore would believe You-Know-Who's back," I added, stepping towards the fireplace. "I mean, he's been saying You-Know-Who's gone, not dead for years. This is the first time someone has come forward to confirm his suspicions."
"Hmm," Rita hummed, watching me curiously. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Le Fay," she said with a flash of teeth. "I won't keep you any longer."
"You have a good afternoon, Miss Skeeter," I said, grabbing a pinch of floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. "La Maison Le Fay. Guernsey."
Stumbling out the other side, I took a deep breath.
That could have gone worse.
Taking another steadying breath, I stood up straight, glancing around the kitchen to see if anyone was around before sighing.
I'd used up my blackmail. She knew that I knew she was an animagus.
I needed to let Dumbledore know about her. I needed to get her before she began digging up my secrets.
I just hoped being an illegal animagus would put her in Azkaban for a while.
All I really needed was it to be long enough for me to finish my time in this world.
A lesson in battle magic
"Carnac, welcome back. I trust you had a good holiday?"
"Yeah," I said, looking around Dumbledore's office to try and get an idea of what we'd be doing today. "It was pretty good. Just spent time at home with my family."
"That's good to hear," Dumbledore said, standing up. "For today's lesson, I felt it'd be more appropriate to practice elsewhere. I am rather attached to my office, and what I have planned for today is a bit more destructive than normal."
"What am I learning?" I asked as Dumbledore wandlessly opened a small doorway tucked behind a bookcase, a gestured for me to follow.
"I thought it'd be an idea to practice battle magic," Dumbledore said, as we began to walk down the spiral staircase. "You're improving in leaps and bounds on the transfiguration side, but I want to see how you go up against an opponent. Namely, me."
Grinning, I picked up the pace. I'd been busy over the holidays, and while I was still waiting for the storm so I could complete my animagus ritual, I had managed to get my hands on the family grimoire to do a private ritual of my own.
"I must commend you for your handling of miss Skeeter," Dumbledore said as we reached the bottom of the stairwell, turning to me with a slight smile. "Not many can say they've made her 'change her tune' so to speak. Although, with your hint about her animagus form, I'm sure she was most happy to change her story to something a little less confrontational."
"She literally called you a misguided old fool who was hoodwinked by a vampire's story," I pointed out dryly. "How is that not confrontational?"
"I've been called worse," Dumbledore said with a tight smile, turning back to the wall before him to tap an off-colour brick. "Miss Skeeter has been trying to bring me down for years now. Thankfully it appears she's kept you out of it."
As the wall shimmered and changed into an oak door, I rolled my eyes. Just because Rita was singing my praises by calling me 'a prodigious wizard' didn't mean I wasn't going to crush her if I caught her animagus form creeping around. It was actually a little terrifying how quickly she'd spun her story out of thin air, and how fast the public opinion had changed.
"Are you going to level the illegal animagus accusation against her any time soon?" I asked hesitantly as we stepped out into the empty hallway.
"I won't be able to do anything about her for a little while, unfortunately," Dumbledore said, shooting me a sorrowful look. "My position is tenuous at best, and I'm only now beginning to mend the rift between me and the Minister thanks to Miss Skeeter's article. If I began levelling accusations against her immediately afterwards, people may begin to find that suspicious. And I'm sure we don't want another repeat of Lockhart's trial."
Scowling, I followed as Dumbledore picked a direction and set off, his teal robes swirling behind him as he hurried along.
He had a point. That didn't mean I had to be happy about it.
"There is good news though," he said cheerfully as we walked. "As I'm sure you heard, the trial with Lockhart has been extradited to Germany, and with several of his past victims healthy enough to appear in court, the charges should stick."
"That's good, I guess," I said, still peeved about Dumbledore's logic.
"Quite," Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. "In addition, the Cup is now destroyed."
I glanced at him and he smiled serenely at me, eyes twinkling.
"How did you manage that," I asked curiously, glancing around to check for listeners. Beyond a few portraits, I didn't have to worry. Everyone reasonable was huddled somewhere warm.
"By exploiting a few loopholes," Dumbledore replied. "Bellatrix was a Black at one point. As such, the Black house-elf, Kreacher, was still allowed to visit her vault. Not to take anything out, mind you, but he still had access. All we needed to do was give him a goblin dagger soaked in basilisk venom and voilà! Another Horcrux is dealt with!"
Dumbledore stopped before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and, nodding slowly, I turned to the stone wall of the corridor. I hadn't used the Room of Requirement for a while, but I guess Dumbledore felt it was the best place to have our lesson today.
"I've asked a professional at exorcising possessed individuals to come to Britain to try and help Harry," the headmaster continued, ignoring my pointed glance at the wall. "He's planned his arrival to coincide with this Summer's Quidditch World Cup. Partially to throw off suspicion, and partially due to the muggle conflicts in the Balkins keeping him busy for the moment. Once Harry is free of the soul fragment, we'll move on to the ring."
I hummed in approval. Good to know all that was going down. I just hoped Voldemort would be as easily dealt with.
As I watched the wall, I heard Dumbledore pacing. Before me, the stone and mortar began to flatten, and smooth as the texture of oaken wood spilled across the surface, forming into planks, as iron bracings swirled across the newly formed door.
"Now," Dumbledore said, pushing open the large door wandlessly. "Today's lesson is simple."
I followed him inside, to find a massive room. Heaps of broken chairs, desks, and lecterns were piled haphazardly in the corners, ringing a large open area in the centre.
"Your task," Dumbledore said, turning to face me, "is to hit me with a spell. I want you to focus on using the magic I've taught you. If you manage to achieve that, then we'll go again, except I'll fight back. This will continue until we run out of time. Now, begin!"
Blinking slightly at the rather succinct lesson plan, I grinned, baring my teeth.
Dumbledore simply stood there before the slowly fading doorway. Smiling merrily.
Mind racing at how to go about this, I flicked my hand, allowing my wand to appear from its holster.
"Vocar Canid!" I said, gesturing at the nearest pile of furniture, and in a flash of magic, a hound leapt forward from the collapsing heap, bearing its teeth at Dumbledore.
As the hound bounded forward, I created another, but as soon as the first one lunged, Dumbledore casually waved his arm and the summoning was severed in two, clattering across the tile floor in a shower of splintered wood as the magic ceased.
"Vocar Arktos" I intoned, the spell splashing against a table behind Dumbledore even as the second hound lunged. Ending the dog with a slash of his wand, he spun around to face a bear as it erupted from the furniture, sending a chair-leg through the beast's chest, and spinning in a swirl of robes to block my three next jinxes with a shield.
"Remember," Dumbledore called as I paused for a gasping breath, "transfiguration will only serve as a distraction against a capable wizard!"
My next spell sparked against his shield, and he made a show of dropping it, watching me closely.
"Ardere Armos!" I yelled, forcing the spell to move faster than its normal limitations, even as I wordlessly summoned the mound of furniture behind the headmaster.
The wood slammed into his shield, making him step back, yet he still managed to spin and divert my stunning spell, only to be wreathed in smoke and sparks as the furniture began to combust.
I almost cast Ignisium to cause a conflagration, but paused. Before I could follow through with the spell, tendrils of water shot out of the haze of sparks.
"Kryono!" I shouted, overpowering the spell, and instantly the temperature dropped.
Dumbledore in return, swept the water aside, redirecting my bombarda with ease, spraying wood everywhere.
I paused again. I was getting too caught up in the fight… crushing that feeling, I took a steadying breath. If Dumbledore wanted it to end, he'd end it.
"Avis!" I said through gritted teeth, pouring magic into my wand. Instantly, yellow birds and smoke blasted out, swirling upwards, before diving at Dumbledore.
With a flick of his wand, the first twenty of the flock were crushed against the tiles, allowing me a clear shot for my wordless spell to sail cleanly through.
Dumbledore's shield was up instantly, but instead of hitting his defence, the reparo sparked against a chunk of wood in front of him, and around him, the fragments of furniture began to zip forward.
I saw him wince, before he waved his wand, loudly coughing out "Depulso!"
The force pushed me back, peppering me with splinters even as I spat out my final spell. Instantly, all the wood fragments and birds, and smoke around Dumbledore were evicted from the centre of the room.
Dumbledore breathed out just as my Levicorpus hit him in the chest, and across his robes, runes blazed into existence, before slowly fading away.
He stared at me for a long moment, in surprise, before smiling.
"Well done, my boy," he said, letting out a deep breath. "I must say, I didn't expect quite such a workout today. I don't believe I've seen that bear spell before-"
"Oh, that is bullshit!" I stated angrily, still high on adrenaline and the desire to fight. "You mean this whole time you've been wearing enchanted fucking robes! I mean! Fucking how the Puck damned heck am I supposed to beat you in a fight if your…" I trailed off. This wasn't a fight. This was a lesson. A lesson that I'd barely passed.
"Did you expect me to come without some additional protection?" Dumbledore asked. "After all, I didn't know what you would throw at me."
I stared at the man incredulously. I needed to find out how to enchant my clothes like that.
"It's a good thing I was wearing them as well," Dumbledore continued, waving his wand over the still-smouldering furniture to end the smoke. "I don't think anyone here wanted to see a successful levicorpus… Also, Carnac, you're floating."
I glanced down with a start. I was hovering a meter off the ground. Quickly, I dropped to the floor. I must have done that when I was hit by the depulso. Gritting my teeth, I glanced at Dumbledore, who was ignoring me, in favour of examining the repaired chair I'd tried hit him with. I hadn't meant to show off my ability to fly. I'd wanted to keep it a secret!
"Overall," Dumbledore said after a small eternity, "I'd say you did quite well for a first attempt. You did a spectacular job of manipulating the environment and putting me on the defensive, although I'll need to teach you how to counteract someone who uses apparition. Beyond that, my only critique, for now, is that it would be better to use Glacius instead of Kryono. It'll be less draining on your magic that way."
I breathed out, feeling worn. I'd given it my all and managed to come out on top. If only just.
"You do realise now," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling madly, "that the gloves are off now?" He gave me a genial smile. "I advise you to focus on avoidance."
I grimaced, looking around for somewhere to take cover.
Puck damn it!
Last edited: May 7, 2022
The animagus ritual
Mid-April found me hiking across the moors above Hogsmeade, following Sirius Black further into the Scottish highlands as dark clouds swirled overhead.
"Nervous?" Sirius asked, barely audible above the rain.
"Kind of scared about being struck by lightning," I said, wiping some water from my eyes and glancing up as thunder rumbled.
"Don't worry about that," Sirius said dismissively. "The fulgurite I gave you should prevent any accidental smitings."
" Should," I repeated dryly, clutching the small tube of lightning-formed glass. "I feel so much safer already."
"I swear you weren't this sarcastic when I met you," Sirius chuckled.
I didn't deem to answer.
"You got any idea of what you're going to be?" Sirius eventually queried. "You said whatever you were was either a corvid or a mustelid…"
"Did you end up looking up what those meant?" I asked.
"Yeah," Sirius said in exasperation. "You didn't need to be so vague about it!"
"And you could have told me about Mandrake being a hallucinogenic," I shot back.
"I said I was sorry!" Sirius complained. "I didn't think you'd make a big deal out of it!"
I rolled my eyes but stayed silent. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to even think about the ritual and all the ways it could go wrong.
"So," Sirius persevered, "do you think you'll be a badger? A ferret? A crow? A magpie? An otter-"
"Can we just not talk about this?" I interrupted. "I mean…" I took a deep breath, centring my thoughts. "I don't know. I think I'm going to be a mustelid, but I'll be happy if the ritual even works."
"You'll be fine," Sirius said reassuringly. "You're more prepared than my friends and I were when we did this… you know what? I think you'll be a honey badger. Or maybe a wolverine. You just seem so snappish lately."
I ignored the jab. I wouldn't mind being a honey badger. They were awesome.
"I heard your friend walked out on Professor Trelawney the other day," Sirius eventually said, changing the subject as we tried to pick our way through a patch of stunted gorse. "You know anything about that?"
"Are you trying to get student gossip from me?" I asked incredulously.
"Well," Sirius shrugged, "yeah."
"She was annoyed Trelawney was doing a shit job teaching," I said shortly. "And with the exams coming up, she felt it was best to focus on worthwhile classes. My friends and I have convinced her to drop Care for Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies as well. Hopefully, she'll have an easier time with only two electives instead of five."
"Good to hear," Sirius said. "I was talking to Harry, and he said he's thinking of walking out on Divination as well. Professor Trelawney apparently keeps predicting his ultimate demise."
I nodded, readjusting my scarf, and casting another waterproofing charm. She was a fraud. A fraud with the occasional accurate prophecy, but still a fraud. Harry would do well to find a worthwhile class.
"Here should be good," Sirius eventually said, stopping in a spot clear of heather.
Taking a deep breath, I looked around. In the valley below, I could just make out the lights of Hogsmeade through the curtains of rain. This place would probably have a nice view if it wasn't in the middle of a storm.
"Alright," Sirius said, facing me, suddenly very serious. "You know what to do. Keep calm, don't show fear, and remember, I'm here."
I nodded, dismissing all my worries and doubts. If I failed, I was screwed, regardless of what Sirius could do. If I panicked, my mind would be overwhelmed by the animal I wanted to become, and I'd become a permanent addition to St Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward.
Taking another deep breath, I pulled out the potion vial. It was too late to back out now.
As thunder rumbled above, I placed my wand tip against my heart and spoke the magic words.
"Amato Animo Animato Animagus."
Uncapping the flask, I tipped it back, swallowing the slimy mixture in one gulp.
There was a moment where I felt confused. That was easy. Too easy. Then a fiery pain blossomed from my chest.
I felt itchy and hot, despite the rain. My heart was beating too fast. The air smelled of ozone, and I felt something in my mind, a second set of thoughts, that seemed to be as focused on me as I was on it.
As calmly as I could, I concentrated on the thoughts that weren't mine. They were scared and panicky. Instincts to fight. To Bristle fur and bare teeth.
I stayed calm, and slowly, the thoughts felt less foreign. A tilted head of curiosity. An inquisitive sniff. They felt as natural as an eye roll or a smile.
Opening my eyes again, I found myself in the storm once more. Balancing on my hind legs, I glanced around. I was smaller than before. Weird.
"Good job kid," Sirius said, and I had to subdue against the animalistic instinct to bare my teeth at the large thing with forward-facing eyes (Predator! Fight!).
Forcing down the impulse, I slowly glanced around, turning away from Sirius (Danger!) to look at my surroundings through new eyes. Everything seemed more intense, from the smell of crushed heather to the sounds… Twitching my ears, I listened as Sirius shifted from one foot to the other on the wet grass, and as something moved through the gorse a little way away.
Chittering slightly, I focused on the next bit of the ritual. The bit about changing back.
Picturing my prior form, I tried to concentrate, tuning out the roar of rain and the feeling of cold water on my nose.
The sounds and smells dulled, until, once more, I opened my eyes, to see Sirius Black standing before me. Grinning.
"First try!" he said. "You got it on the first try! It took James a whole hour to turn back into a human!"
Frowning, I glanced around. It was so strange. I had little instincts that didn't apply to my human form. I couldn't twitch my ears, or bristle my fur.
"What was I?" I asked, again, examining with vague curiosity the way it felt to speak. How had I not noticed how weird vocal cords felt before? "How long before the instincts stop?"
"You're doing better than Pet… Pettigrew," Sirius said, a small frown darting across his face. "You were a mustelid. Some sort of otter, or mink. As for the instincts, well, some will always bleed through, but the way you're handling it, I'd say it'll be a week, tops, before you have them mostly under control."
I glanced around again, not looking at Sirius's face. It was going to be a rough week if my instincts screamed danger every time I saw an animal with forward-facing eyes.
"Let's get back to Hogwarts before it gets dark," Sirius said eventually. "It'll probably be a good idea to wait a little while before turning back into your animagus form. Just give yourself a chance to get used to your new instincts first. After that, we can figure out exactly what you are, and train you in how to change form without a wand."
"Sounds good," I said, stepping forward and twitching as my instincts screamed that my hind legs weren't meant to work like that!
It was going to be a long week.
Theriac
Tossing and turning, Harry tried to get to sleep. Unfortunately, even with the sound dampening charms on the curtains of his poster bed, he could still hear the rumble of thunder and the beating of rain against the window.
After what felt like an hour, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses. He wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon.
Quietly padding downstairs to the Gryffindor common room, he took a seat before the fire, staring at the glowing embers, deep in thought.
There was just something about Carnac Le Fay. The first Harry had heard of the older Hufflepuff was when he'd gotten petrified last year, leaving Harry with the blame, and ever since then, he'd been keeping a closer eye on the older year, and he couldn't help feel something was off about him.
There were rumours about him. Things like the theories about Quirrell, and stories about the prior Vampiric Defence Professor, that somehow seemed to be tied to Carnac, but whenever Harry asked how, people just shrugged, mentioning the talk of portraits and ghosts.
Then there were the events of last year, when Carnac's followers, Neville and Hermione, seemed intent on blaming Harry!
Sighing, Harry Potter rubbed his aching forehead. When Colin Creevey had mentioned that Carnac was Professor Dumbledore's apprentice, Harry had just thrown his hands up and followed Ron's example of dropping it. But now though…
Kneading his stinging scar with his palm, Harry thought back on today's events.
He'd overheard Sirius talking with Carnac, planning something, so he'd gotten his invisibility cloak.
Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, leaning back into the chair.
He'd followed them, as they set off into the storm. He'd been worried he'd lose his cloak in the wind or get struck by lightning, but he still followed them. He'd needed to know what was going on.
Then he saw the animagus ritual.
Carnac had become an animagus. Just like Sirius. Just like his father.
As sleep consumed him, Harry dwelled on one final question; Why was Carnac Le Fay special enough to be taught that?
"My Lord, the theriac is almost ready."
Opening his eyes, Harry watched coldly as the Carrow twins added the final ingredients to the cauldron. A dash of gold dust, a pinch of powdered coral, and most importantly, the vial of basilisk venom from France.
"That'll cure us?" Scabior asked hesitantly, picking at the decaying flesh on their forearm. Harry decided, that, to cease the man's complaining, it was worth the effort of the reply.
"Yes," he said, forcing the words out of Scabior's mouth. "The theriac shall do what the unicorn blood could not. It shall heal our body and soul."
'And then I shall have no more need for you,' he mentally added.
Scabior whimpered in reply, rubbing his stiff jaw, and Harry felt like snarling. Weak. So weak. Supplying his body was all this vermin was good for.
"My Lord," Amycus said softly. "It's done. The witching hour will soon be upon us, and the storm is at its peak. Shall we begin?"
Slowly, he stood, ignoring Scabior's mental scream of anguish as decaying flesh stretched and pustules burst.
"Yes. Let us begin," Voldemort said with a cold smile.
Finishing fourth year.
"Avis," Neville repeated, giving his wand a flick.
"Not quite," I said as we slowly made our way towards the main entrance, and the waiting carriages. "Your wand movement isn't quite right. It needs to be more like the letter 'm.'
"Avis," Neville repeated, and his wand banged loudly, sending out a cloud of smoke and yellow feathers.
"Better," I laughed. "Keep it up and you'll be able to summon a flock and make it chase Malfoy!"
Neville grinned at me happily.
"Did you learn this from Professor Dumbledore?" he asked. "Have you used it in your training?"
"Nah," I said, waving at a few of the friendlier paintings as we passed by. "I picked the spell up from a charms book. It's a sixth-year spell, so it's pretty impressive that you can already summon feathers."
"But do you use it in your lessons?" Neville insisted, watching me closely.
"Not anymore," I said nodding to a few passing classmates. "Every time I try that trick now, Dumbledore just summons up wind, or depulsos them into oblivion. I'm thinking of trying 'Exorior Pyraustus.' It summons a bunch of tiny draconic insects."
"Can you show me?" Neville asked, wide-eyed, and I laughed. Despite him being the level-headed one, I kept forgetting he was still a kid.
"I still need to learn it," I said with a smile. "But on the train, I'll show you what I'm working on with depulso. I'm trying to use it to propel myself faster, but I need to find a way to ease the pressure on my arms."
"Just invent a new spell," Neville said with an eye-roll. "It'll probably be easier than deforming existing spells."
"Deforming?" I asked. "I don't deform spells!"
"You turned a cooling spell into an ice spell," Neville said flatly. "You did that, when glacius is something that you were taught in third year."
"Point taken," I said reluctantly. "But in my defence, I didn't know about glacius before, and I still think that Kryono feels more natural."
"Good morning Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Le Fay."
The two of us glanced up in shock to see Dumbledore standing in an alcove, watching us with twinkling eyes.
"Mr. Longbottom," he said. "Looking forward to your Summer? I heard your parents were released last week, although I haven't had a chance to speak with them. They were rather good friends of mine, until we understandably fell out of touch."
Neville stared at the headmaster, wide-eyed, before stealing a quick glance my way.
"I do apologise," Dumbledore continued, "but I'll need to borrow Mr. Le Fay for a minute. Please give your parents my regards. I'll try and pop around sometime soon for tea and scones."
Neville made a strangled noise, glancing at me once more before hurrying off. I turned to Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.
"That boy has a bright future," he said, watching Neville go. "His parents were brilliant magic users, and I always wondered what would happen if they had the chance to raise their son… I suppose now we'll find out."
"Yeah," I agreed. "He's progressing in leaps and bounds. Although, I think he'd be more happy tending to the plants than casting spells."
"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked. "A worthwhile profession to pursue. Young Mr. Longbottom's already rediscovered moly, so I'm sure his skills in the field will only lead to more breakthroughs."
I nodded, not bothering to correct Dumbledore on who'd discovered moly. Neville could have the fame for this one. I didn't want the attention.
"I did come here for more than simple chit-chat, though," Dumbledore said, glancing at me. "Although, from what I overheard, I'll need to brush up on my spellwork if I'm to keep winning our little matches-"
"Is Tom back?" I asked bluntly, staring at Dumbledore.
He gaped at me.
"Yes," he said. "He's back. How did you know?"
"I've known since Halloween," I said. "The fact you've been training me for something is pretty obvious."
Dumbledore opened his mouth again as if about to say something, before closing it. More secrets. Why he was still keeping them from me, I couldn't figure.
"I was actually here to discuss your animagus form," he said. "Have you figured out what it is on your own?"
"No," I said with a frown. "It's not like any of the creatures described in the zoology books I've read."
"I have a sneaking suspicion that I know what it is," Dumbledore said. "Would you mind changing into it? I've only seen Sirius's memories so far, and I'd like to see your animagus form for myself to be sure I'm right."
I glanced around to make sure no one else was in the corridor with us, before shrugging. Slowly, I shrunk, my robes becoming a fur coat and my mind filling with a stream of animal thoughts and impulses.
Standing on all four feet, I spun around, before seating myself before Dumbledore, tail twitching slightly.
"Ah," Dumbledore said happily. "I do believe I was correct in my assumption. You're an ichneumon, Carnac."
I tried to ask what in Puck's name an ichneumon was, only for it to come out as a chitter. I settled for quirking my head.
"It's been a while since I've heard of something like this," Dumbledore said. "There are tales of wizards whose animagus forms were wurms or griffins, but they're rare…"
I chittered again, trying to express my annoyance at how he was waffling on, and thankfully, Dumbledore got the message.
"I apologise, my boy," he said. "You're probably wondering exactly what an ichneumon is."
I huffed in agreement.
"It's actually rather amusing," Dumbledore continued, and I resisted the urge to bare my teeth. "Ichneumon are known as slayers of dragons, snakes, and crocodiles, and one of the few things that can survive the gaze of the cockatrice. It certainly has parallels to your attack on the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."
I tilted my head. Slayer of dragons? That was an interesting title. Hopefully, it wasn't an indication of things to come.
"From what I've heard," Dumbledore continued, "Ichneumon roll in mud, allowing it to dry, to use as armour, aided by a bit of natural magic of course. Fascinating creatures… I do believe India is a large contributor to the pet trade of them."
In a flash, I was back in human form, staring at Dumbledore.
"I think I'd prefer avoiding life as a pampered pet, thank you very much," I said.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling, "I've also heard ichneumon are fierce and willing to fight to the death. Traits I do hope you can temper."
"So they have natural magic?" I asked. "Mud magic?"
"Some rudimentary form of enchanting," Dumbledore said, watching me closely. "We'll spend time on that next year. I'm a bit of an amateur at it myself, as you've probably figured by all the knick-knacks in my office, but I think it'll be exciting to see if any of the latent abilities of your animagus form bleed through as talent."
I nodded slowly, mind racing. There were so many possibilities open to me now.
"Whatever the case," Dumbledore said, "I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy your Summer, Carnac."
"Thanks!" I said cheerfully, "you too!"
As I walked away, my mind was racing. I wouldn't be waiting until next year to try my hand at enchanting. I knew all the basics already after all.
Things were actually going right for me for once. I hadn't spent the end of the year in the Infirmary, I'd learnt some new skills, and there was no new news about Voldemort.
My life was looking good.
Last edited: Apr 9, 2022
Meeting up for the Quidditch Cup
"Are you sure your friend's tent is this way?" my brother, Giles, asked for the umpteenth time as we threaded our way through the eastern-most edge of the Dartmoor campgrounds. Trying to find the Longbottom campsite.
"I have no idea," I retorted. "It's not like I have a bloody map!"
"Someones's cranky today," Giles commented with a laugh. "Is your animagus form riled up?"
"No," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the goosebump-like sensation of bristled fur. "I'm just thinking of stuff."
"By stuff," Giles probed, "do you mean the news about that Umbridge woman?"
I stayed silent, opting instead to continue looking for Neville's tent.
"Carnac," Giles said, "I just don't understand why you're making a big deal over this. I thought you said Binns was a horrible professor. If the Ministry is sending someone to replace him, then surely it has to be an improvement."
I didn't reply. How could I explain that I knew Umbridge was going to be a tyrant without even having met her?
"Alright then," Giles eventually sighed. "Keep your secrets."
I nodded, still looking for the bloody tent.
I didn't want or need, a pep talk.
I'd deal with Umbridge when she started becoming an issue.
"Carnac," Neville said excitedly. "You're here. You didn't have trouble finding us?"
"It took a while," I said with a small shrug, "but that was probably because my brother kept complaining."
"I'm Giles Le Fay, the complaining brother," Giles said, offering his hand to shake."
"Nice to meet you," Neville said, "I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom. Come in. We're just waiting for the pitch to open up. Carnac, just so you know, Sirius and Harry are here."
"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
I didn't know that they knew each other. Although, thinking about it, I guess they were in the Order of the Phoenix together. Shrugging, I followed Neville in.
Inside, the tent was roomy. Chairs and cushions sat in a circle around a lit stove.
Sirius and a tired-looking man with a cane were sharing a drink of something while Harry Potter sat sullenly to the side, head bandaged, and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Carnac!" Sirius said as soon as he saw me. "No one told me you were going to show up! Who's this."
"Hey Sirius," I said with a nod. "This is my brother, Giles."
"Nice to meet you," Sirius said, raising his cup.
Out of the corner of my eye, I kept an eye on the boy-who-lived as he watched me with an odd expression. His head was wrapped in bandages, covering up his scar. Had the Horcrux already been removed?
"Carnac," Neville said quietly, interrupting my train of thought. "This is my dad."
The man, Neville's father, stood shakily, stepping forward.
"I hear you're the one who found out about moly?" he asked taking my hand to shake. His voice was steady, but I could feel the muscles in his hand twitching erratically. A leftover effect of the cruciatus curse?
"Yes sir," I said nervously.
I didn't know anything about this guy. In the books, he and his wife only had a brief, bed-ridden scene, and Neville was too private to really talk about them.
"I'm no sir," he said, with a small grin. "Call me Frank. Because of you, my wife and I have our lives back. If you need anything, we're in your debt."
Sirius snorted into his cup and Frank shot him a curious look, sitting back down.
"Take a seat you two," he said, gesturing to the side of the tent, where several chairs were stacked. "We were just talking about quidditch."
"Harry here is the Gryffindor seeker," Sirius said proudly to Giles. "He takes after his father."
"Really," Giles said in interest. "I played for the Beauxbatons team in reserve. As beater, mind you…"
Sighing, I leaned away from the conversation, turning to Sirius, who was staring at me curiously.
"How's unemployment treating you?" I asked.
"It's treating me well!" Sirius said with a laugh. "Although, I like to call it the bachelor lifestyle. Unemployment makes it sound like I'm poor! At least I've got Harry here to keep me from going too wild!"
Harry glanced up from his conversation with Giles to shoot Sirius a look halfway between joy and embarrassment. I grinned at that. He deserved all the happiness he could get after the Dursleys.
"The thing that gets me, though," Sirius continued, a smile playing across his lips, "is the fact that Malfoy pushed to have me discharged. I mean, Carnac, do you think I was a bad influence?"
"You did help me become an animagus," I said cheekily.
"Oh, that was me paying off a debt," Sirius said with a dismissive wave and a lazy smile. "I can hardly be held accountable for that. Although, when I tried to explain that to McGonagall, she looked like she'd swallowed a lemon! I wish I'd had a camera."
"I wish you'd told us," Neville said with a hint of reprehension in his voice. "I mean, Hermione would have tried to talk you out of it, but we would have kept your secrets."
"Sorry," I said, unsure what to say. "I just… it didn't feel like something to share. It felt private. Something I needed to do on my own."
Neville watched me closely with a small frown. I could tell he didn't really agree with my reasoning, but I couldn't think of how better to explain how the animagus ritual felt. It had just felt too personal to share. At least he didn't continue to probe.
"You end up registering your animagus form with the Ministry?" Sirius asked curiously.
"Yeah," I said, feeling my anger rise. "I wanted to avoid Skeeter finding it out. Especially after what she put you through."
Sirius took a sip from his cup in place of speaking.
"It was unprofessional, what she did," Frank stated. "It's one thing to expose something like that. It's another thing entirely to profit from it."
"I don't mind too much," Sirius said with a weak grin. "It helped with the bad-boy image I've got going for me. But it was probably a good thing you registered, Carnac."
I nodded with a scowl.
"The worst thing about it is that Rita literally registered as an animagus a week before she wrote that story," I growled.
In doing so, she'd invalidated the only blackmail I had on her, and now I had a target on my back.
"So," Frank said slowly. "You think she was an animagus before, and sighed up right before she exposed Sirius?"
"Yes," I said shortly.
"Merlin," Frank growled. "And I thought she was a nasty piece of work before. What's her animagus form."
"A green beetle," I said.
"I think," Frank remarked, "that we'll have to purchase new wards. At least that explains how Skeeter's been able to publish so many private pieces of gossip."
"May have to do the same for Grimmauld Place," Sirius hummed. "Last thing we want is Rita skittering around."
Somewhere in the distance, a gong rang out, and the muffled chatter from the neighboring tents picked up.
"We'll have to put this conversation on hold," Frank said, getting shakily to his feet, clutching his cane. "The game is about to start."
"This'll be good," Sirius said, the weighty tone of the prior conversation evaporating. "Who do you think will win, Harry?"
As we trailed out the tent flap to join the throngs of witches and wizards heading toward the pitch, I began to relax, just enjoying the feeling of excitement and exuberance.
Rita Skeeter and Umbridge could wait.
For now, I had a game to catch.
Taking umbrage to Umbridge
"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione demanded as we rode up to Hogwarts in the thestral-drawn carriage. "I mean, we went over all of this before! I thought you weren't going to keep secrets from us!"
"Hermione," I said with a tired sigh. "This isn't like with the Chamber of Secrets or my knowledge of the other time. This was a private ritual that I wanted to do for myself."
"But why didn't you trust us enough to tell us?" Hermione asked.
"Like you didn't trust Neville and Luna enough to tell them about your time-turner?" I asked.
Hermione winced, and I ignored the impulsive flinch of guilt. She was pushing me into a corner on this.
"That was different," Hermione protested. "I had permission to use the time-turner, and a reason to use it, but you-"
"Sirius Black walked me through the entire process," I said, speaking over her. "And I think having a professor on my side counts as permission. As for the reason, well," I gestured at the Quibbler lying unattended next to Luna. "I think Luna's dad did a pretty good job covering why it's a good idea to have a trick or two up my sleeve."
Hermione closed her mouth, glancing at the magazine. There'd been an attack on one of the Quidditch World Cup after parties. The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly had mentioned it, but the Quibbler was the only paper to report that the attackers were dressed like death eaters.
"If you want to keep it a secret, then why register," Neville asked.
I gave him a flat stare.
"It was either that and have it buried in a bureaucratic mess of paperwork," I said slowly, "or have it plastered across the front of the Prophet when Rita Skeeter gets wind of it."
"You could have let us know though," Hermione insisted.
I groaned, leaning back against the seat.
"Look," I said as the carriage halted before the entrance of Hogwarts. "I trust you guys, but there are some things I want to keep private. So drop it!"
"But-" Hermione started, only for Luna to poke her in the ribs.
"What's it like being an ichneumon?" Lovegood asked as we hopped out of the carriage, joining the throngs of students making their way indoors. "Have you noticed any changes now that you're an animagus?"
I chuckled lightly, happy the conversation was finally moving on.
"Whenever I see something snake-like, I feel the impulse to attack it," I said. "So, naturally, my brother decided it'd be funny to start leaving transfigured snakes around the house. It's driving me mental."
Luna laughed lightly, Hermione and Neville following, in the middle of a hushed conversation.
"There are other things," I continued. "It takes less to rile me up now, and I enjoy swimming more than I did before, but most of the noticeable changes are impulses I can ignore."
"So it has a mental effect?" Hermione asked, jumping back into the conversation.
"Yes it does," I said as we entered the great hall, sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table, just across from the Ravenclaw table with my back to the Gryffindor side of the hall.
Luna sat across from me, and Neville sighed while Hermione watched me in shock. Normally, I sat closer to the Gryffindor table, but currently, I wasn't in the mood to be ranted at.
"Come on," Neville said with a sigh, dragging Hermione along. "Let's go."
As Luna began to chat happily about a muggle book she'd bought on ice-age megafauna, I kept an eye on the front of the hall.
The Defence Against the Dark Art's seat was filled by a gnarled man with a deeply scarred face and a shocking blue eye.
I stared at him closely. I'd been a bit surprised when Alastor Moody's name had been on the teacher roster, but I suppose it made sense. After all, who else was willing to take the Defence position?
Further along, in the normally empty chair that had used to belong to Binns, was Umbridge.
She was a squat lady. Much more cold-looking than the actor who portrayed her in the movies. She stood out in her fluffy pink cardigan among the black and blue and emerald green robes of the other professors, looking out over the hall with a smug expression.
I could tell she was going to be just as bad as in the books.
"So my dad says that perhaps the Yin Shu hunted mammoths and that's why the ancient bones are so much bigger than the modern animal… Who's that?" Luna asked, interrupting herself as she noticed I wasn't listening.
"Sorry Luna," I apologised. "That's Umbridge."
Luna watched me closely. She was canny enough to know that when I refused to call someone Professor, it meant I didn't respect them in the slightest.
"She's bad news," I said softly, turning away from the table. "Be careful around her, and if she does anything you even think is slightly illegal, let me know. Okay?"
Luna blinked slowly, before nodding.
"Okay then," I said with a small grin. "So, the yin shu? What did you say it was?"
"A giant mole-like rodent the size of a buffalo," Luna replied promptly. "Their bones are used in potions."
I listened closely, ignoring the staff table, even as I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle from unseen eyes.
I could handle Umbridge if she tried to threaten and sabotage me for being Dumbledore's apprentice, but if she tried to hurt my friends…
She would regret it.
Last edited: Apr 15, 2022
History of Magic
After the regular gap day, Wednesday the third was our first day of lessons, and to prove that Murphy or the ROB or Puck himself hated me, the first lesson of Wednesday was a double period of History of Magic.
Umbridge was contently seated at the teacher's desk when I came in, wearing her fluffy pink cardigan and a lavender bow atop her head. As soon as I walked in the door, her head snapped up, and her eyes fixed on me, like a toad that had spotted a particularly juicy fly.
I made sure to sit as far back as I could, and as the remaining seats filled, I tried to ignore the all too frequent glances in my direction.
At least she wasn't being subtle about having it out for me.
"Well good morning, children!" she said, standing as the last person took their seat.
A few people muttered some replies, but no one was putting any effort into it. This was History, after all. It was the class everyone slept through. Already, I could see some people fighting to stay awake.
"Tut-tut," Umbridge said, enunciating it in her sickly sweet voice. "That won't do now, will it? Let's try again. Good morning children!"
"Good morning Professor Umbridge," a few people chorused, but some were still yawning tiredly, or simply watching on in amusement.
Umbridge took a deep breath and looked out over the classroom, a hint of fervour in her eyes.
"Oh dear," she said. "It appears we're all a bit rusty after the holidays. Let's try that once more, and this time, I'd like everyone to try their best. Now; good Morning class!"
The way she spoke, you'd think we were all two-year-olds, but, by this point, I think people were beginning to get a bit unnerved by her artificially upbeat tone.
"Good morning Professor Umbridge," we all chorused, and she watched us with a small victorious smile.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she said in her gratingly girlish voice. "Now…"
She turned to the blackboard, and we all watched as she tapped her wand against it, disappearing the years of dust, before tapping it again, making blocky letters appear.
"Ordinary Wizarding Level exams," she said, turning back to us, "otherwise known as OWLs."
I blinked hard. I'd completely forgotten we had those tests this year.
"Your previous lessons in History of Magic have been rather inadequate," she said to us, "which means you are far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."
Everyone watched on in complete silence, and I could understand why. Everything she said was shockingly patronising. It was unbelievable how she managed to cram so much condescension into each sentence with such a girlish tone nonetheless.
"Hopefully," she continued, "by following a carefully structured Ministry-approved course, we'll be able to get you to the standard we expect to see. Has everyone got a copy of the 'Complete History of Magical Britain' by Faven Lagheft?"
Everyone murmured some sort of confirmation and she paused.
"I think we'll try that again," she said. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes Professor Umbridge,' or 'No Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of the 'Complete History of Magical Britain' by Faven Lagheft?"
"Yes Professor Umbridge," I chorused with the class. I was going to hex her within a week at this rate. Two tops.
"Good," she said. "I should like you to turn to page one, and read the accounts of Merlin and Sir Cadogan, and how they aided the muggle King Arthur in his battles with his half-sister, the Dark Lady, Morgan le Fay."
Umbridge's pouchy eyes flicked to me, and suddenly, I realised what she was doing.
She was under the impression I was a relative of Morgana le Fay. She was trying to rile me up, or paint an unappealing comparison.
Nice try you tyrannical twit of a toad, but I'm not biting.
"Professor?"
Umbridge glanced at the speaker, Sampson Mars, one of my dorm mates.
"Did you have a question, dear?" she asked lightly.
"It's just, Morgana was a bit more nuanced than simply being a dark witch," Bruno said. "Wasn't she also Queen of Avalon, and an ally of King Arthur in his later years?"
Umbridge watched Sampson in mild disbelief.
"Perhaps that is what you've been taught," she said, "but one cannot put too much faith in such tall tales. If you just read the first chapter of your Ministry-approved textbook, I'm sure you'll find the answers to your burning questions."
With that, she settled into her seat to watch us.
Flicking through the first chapter of the textbook, I almost snorted out loud at the utter rubbish they'd wasted the paper on. It was like reading a storybook meant for toddlers, except I'm sure at least those sorts of books have some nuance.
Reading ahead, I had to stop myself from staring slack-jawed at page after page of black-and-white stories of good triumphing over evil, in which cruel and controversial figures were stripped of all personality to become shining symbols of virtue and mouthpieces for the current Ministry.
Glancing up, I saw Umbridge watching me readily.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Le Fay?" she asked sweetly, staring me right in the eye.
"No Professor," I said, turning back to the book.
Gazing blankly at the page, I considered what to do now.
The books weren't worth reading. I'd have to set aside time for keeping on top of my History, but if that petulant pink poon thought she was going to hinder me with this, then she was dead wrong.
I was actually kind of interested to see how far she'd go to besmirch my name.
Then, maybe she could make History a tad more interesting after all.
Good news, Enchanting and Mad-Eye Moody
"How was your summer, My boy?" Dumbledore asked as I stepped into his office.
"It was okay," I said, taking a seat. "My brother took me to the Quidditch World Cup."
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore chuckled. "Did it play out like it did in the other time?"
"No," I said with a small headshake. "In the other time, the Irish defeated Peru in the semifinals and went on to defeat Bulgaria. For some reason, the Peruvians won here, although Viktor Krum still played their seeker like a drum."
"Really?" Dumbledore asked. "How interesting. I heard the entire thing over the wizarding wireless, and I felt that the Peruvians could have brought more to the game. What was it like seeing the Wronski Feint in person?"
"I'm not much of a quidditch fan," I shrugged. "It was cool, but the Peruvian chaser seemed to know what was going on and pulled up too soon for it to be effective."
"Hmm," Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I do wonder what caused events to diverge as such? I suppose we'll never know."
I nodded in agreement. By this point, things had diverged so much that my knowledge of canon events was pretty much useless. Thankfully, most of the horrible things to come had ben dealt with before they had a chance to become serious issues.
"In other news," Dumbledore said slowly. "Over the Summer Holidays, the last of the Horcruxes were destroyed."
I grinned widely at that. That was brilliant news.
"How?" I asked.
"For Harry's scar, I asked a dark-spirit hunter from the Balkans to come as see if he could remove it," Dumbledore said, grabbing a lemon drop to suck on. "He managed to entice it out by weakening the magic binding it to Harry, drawing it into an item connected to Voldemort, in this case, Tom Riddle's Special Awards trophy. A tad ironic, perhaps, but it was satisfying to destroy."
"Okay," I said, leaning forward. "And the ring?"
"We had some issues," Dumbledore said hesitantly. "No one was hurt, but it was a close call."
"What happened?" I insisted.
"I would prefer if we didn't discuss it," Dumbledore said softly. "But now, Voldemort is mortal once more."
I grinned. Thank Puck! Hopefully, since he was still only a wrath, he'd just fade away.
"Now, as you know," Dumbledore said, changing topics, "you have your OWL exams to look forward to at the end of the school year."
I nodded, still elated by the good news.
"Due to them, and to keep Professor Umbridge's focus off you, I have decided that it'd be best if we limit our lessons."
I grimaced. Well, that's one way to ruin my mood.
"Why is Umbridge even here?" I asked. "Binns has been teaching History for years, and I thought you were starting to mend the rift between you and the Ministry."
Dumbledore sighed, taking off his spectacles to polish them.
"Unfortunately," he said, "she was hoisted upon me. It was an ultimatum; either Professor Umbridge or Mr. Avery. I decided it was best to go with the devil I knew, especially since Avery was a suspected Death Eater during the first war."
"Did you even have a choice in the matter?" I questioned.
"Alas, no," Dumbledore sighed. "The decision was presented by the Board of Governors and backed by the Ministry, and, as you said, I'm in the middle of trying to make amends."
"And why would they want Umbridge here?" I probed.
Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard as if debating whether to tell me something.
"I suspect," he said slowly, "that Malfoy Sr. had something to do with it. But without proof, it's mere speculation. The why though is unclear."
I grimaced. Bloody politics. It meant that I had to play nice with Umbridge for now.
"Anyway," Dumbledore said, waving away the conversation, "today, I felt it would be best to at least get you started on this year's focus."
With a flick of his wand, a small leather-bound book flew from one of the shelves, landing softly on the desk in front of me.
"An Artificer's guide to Enchantment?" I asked, reading the cover.
"A first edition, nonetheless," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Written by the creator of the Mirror of Erised."
"I did a bit of work on enchanting over the holidays," I said slowly, flicking to the first page. "I actually made something using clay I enchanted in my animagus form."
"Really?" Dumbledore said in surprise.
With a bang, someone pounded again the door, and I flinched. Dumbledore, however, looked up calmly.
"That'll be Alastor," he said with a small chuckle. "Come in!"
Professor Moody stepped through the door, his magical eye darting back and forth rapidly, while his regular eye stayed fixed on me.
"Albus," he growled in greeting, slamming the door with a flick of his wand before limping to the side of the room, back against the wall. "So," he said, glancing back at me. "You're the prodigy Albus decided to train."
"Yes," Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. "In fact, Carnac was just about to show me some enchanting he's done over the holidays."
Professor Moody snorted, glancing around the room at the silver nicknacks that lined the shelves.
"Hopefully it's something useful," he said gruffly.
"Alastor has agreed to teach you a thing or two," Dumbledore said, turning back to me. "He's quite skilled in battle magic and duelling, and knows more about defensive magic than me."
Professor Moody muttered something under his breath, and Dumbledore simply smiled.
"So then," he said. "What did you make?"
Turning away from the gnarled, magical-eyed professor, I pulled a marble-sized clay bead out of my pocket, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
"I had trouble getting the enchantments to last," I said, glancing at Professor Moody, who was watching the bead closely. "It's still a one-use thing. I haven't figured out how to stop the magic from breaking or dissolving yet, but I think if I etch the runes in instead of painting them on, it may last longer. I haven't really had the chance to test it though…"
"May I see?" Dumbledore asked.
I wordlessly handed the bead over, and he pulled an eyepiece out of his desk.
"Remarkable," he said softly, gazing at the bead. "From what I can see, there aren't any flaws in your runes. Alastor what do you think?"
"It looks like there are two rune clusters," Professor Moody growled, his magic eye fixed on the clay bead. "The strain of supporting two separate rune systems is probably what's causing the magic to dissolve after each use. How did you come up with the designs?"
"My Mémaen is an enchanter," I said, taking back the clay bead. She has all sorts of books on advanced methods.
"Risky," Professor Moody growled, magical eye still fixed on the bead. "What does it do?"
I glanced at Dumbledore, who gave me a small nod.
"I admit, I'm curious myself. If your willing to demonstrate?"
Wordlessly, I pressed the bead to my throat, turning to Professor Moody.
" Statio ," I said, my voice reverberating like a thunderclap.
Moody froze, and I turned to Dumbledore, who was watching with shock.
"My boy…" he said slowly, watching the statuesque form of Professor Moody as his magical eye darted around wildly. "How…?"
"I'll just undo it," I said, glancing back at Moody. " Aiw ."
Immediately, Moody unfroze, whipping out his wand and pointing it at me.
"Accio!"
The clay bead shot out of my hand, and he clenched it tightly in a fist.
"What was that!" he growled.
I probably shouldn't have done that.
"Don't you usually wear enchanted robes?" Dumbledore asked, watching Professor Moody closely.
"Yes! And a dragonskin vest," Moody said, still staring at me. "What did you do, Le Fay?"
"It's sound-based," I said, trying to stay relaxed and non-threatening, even as I suppressed the urge to bristle at the Professor's scowl. I definitely shouldn't have done that. "Most spells take a second or so to hit their target and they're all brightly coloured and obvious. So I tried to make something that took effect as soon as it's heard. I got the idea from enchanted musical instruments."
Moody watched me closely, scowling, before switching his attention to the clay bead, scrutinising it.
"The runes are starting to fray," he said after a second. "You won't get much more use out of this."
I nodded slowly, sighing in relief at the fact he'd stopped glaring at me. Why had I done something so Puck-damned reckless?
"I'll be taking this," he said, glancing at me with his normal eye, and again, I nodded. I wasn't about to stop him. Not after that little stunt.
It wasn't like he'd be able to replicate it after all. It required a base of clay enchanted by an ichneumon after all.
"Albus," Moody said, nodding to the headmaster. "Le Fay, meet me in the Defence classroom next Saturday at ten. I'll be teaching you the Patronus spell.
"Yes professor," I said with a small nod.
His blue eye watched me for a moment, before he huffed, marching out the door.
"You made a good impression on him," Dumbledore said with a small chuckle as the door slammed shut.
"How can you tell?" I asked, still staring at the exit.
"If he took issue with you," Dumbledore said slowly, grabbing a lemon drop from the crystal bowl on his desk, "then he would have done more than just take your clay bead. Of course, now he's going to try his damndest to push you to become an Auror."
I nodded, still watching the door.
If Tonks could survive Mad-Eye Moody, then he couldn't be that bad.
Right?
Christmas duelling
As the Christmas snow drifted down peacefully across Diagon Alley, I sat in the stands of the pop-up duelling tournament, ignoring the cheering crowd and Ludo Bagman's sonorous commentary, trying to focus on happy thoughts.
It was annoying. I had been trying to cast the Patronus for months now, but I had yet to find a memory happy enough to work. Sure, I had memories of peaceful moments, and elated victories, but no moments of pure happiness. It was starting to get on my nerves.
"Your brother should be up soon," Père said, nudging me. "He seems pretty confident."
"Yeah," I said, glancing around. The worries about the Patronus could wait. "You think he'll win?" I asked.
"Yes," Père said without a moment's hesitation. "Your brother is canny and quite skilled. I have full faith in him. I'm more excited to see you and him in the team duel. Are you prepared for that?"
I nodded slowly, glancing around at the stands and the stage below where two people were flinging spells back and forth.
"Nervous?" Père asked, giving my shoulder a short squeeze. "You shouldn't be. I'm just proud of you for participating. You're a lot younger than I was when I had my first duel."
"I'm a bit nervous," I admitted. "Though, it's mainly because I've never been in a duel before. Our Defence Professor at Hogwarts has gone over it all, but he was an Auror, not a competitive duelist."
Père chuckled softly.
"You worried that you'll slip and do something your Auror professor taught you. Something that's not allowed here?"
"Basically," I said.
"Don't worry," Père said with a small smile. "Just focus on defence, take potshots, and let Giles lead."
I nodded slowly, turning back to the stage as one of the competitors knocked the other into the barrier. I was more worried I'd slip and try to transfigure the stage in the heat of the moment. Battle magic, after all, was partially about altering the environment to your advantage, while duelling was about winning while keeping the environment intact.
That was one lesson Professor Moody hadn't let me forget after we'd finished our first disastrous attempt at a practice duel.
Before I knew it, I was in the waiting tent with Giles, preparing for the team match.
"You all know the rules?" Ludo Bagman asked, striding between Giles and me, and the other two competitors. "Just for those who don't, here's a refresher: Its charms and jinxes only. No transfiguration, no permanent disfigurement, and if you hold up a shield for over a minute, you're out."
I nodded, taking a deep breath.
"Now, get to your places," Bagman said with a grin. "Walk out when I give the introduction."
"Your ready, Carnac?" Giles asked as we walked out of the tent and along the stage, before the stands and the cheering crowd.
"Let's do this," I said simply, focusing on the cobbled street.
"To the right," Bagman said, voice echoing around the alley, cutting through the chatter in the stands, "we have the brothers, Giles and Carnac Le Fay!"
Taking a deep breath, I followed Giles up the steps to the stage. Instantly, the roaring of the crowd faded into the background as we passed the wards.
"And to the left," Ludo continued, "we have Scabior Turner and Alexi Avery!"
I stared at the two figures across from us. Avery was a Death Eater, and I vaguely recalled Scabior was some kind of Snatcher in the last Harry Potter book.
I focused on the two, fighting the urge to bare my teeth. These two were a couple of pure-blood Slytherin pissants.
Now we had to win! For ethical reasons, of course.
"On my mark, the match begins," Ludo sonared. "Contestants bow."
I bowed and I saw the two across from us follow suit.
"Three, two, one, begin!"
I started with a stunner. Nice and simple. Scabior blocked it with a shield, but the impact made him step back.
Grinning, I erected a shield to defend Giles from a flash of blue, before sending a silent dancing jinx Avery's way, probing for weakness, but the guy shielded himself in the nick of time.
I switched back to Scabior as Giles took over hammering at his shield, firing a knockback jinx at the Snatcher, then another, and another, but the blighter batted them aside with swift flicks of his wand, sending the spells into the protective barrier now in place around the stage.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he yelled, taking advantage of my surprise at that casual spell redirection. I cast protego to protect Giles just as the spell hit, wincing as it impacted the shield.
"Expelliarmus," I said out loud, wandlessly casting it as I batted aside two more jinxes from Avery, before Giles drew the Death Eater's focus away from me. It would be so much easier to just summon his wand with an accio, but that was against the rules.
Scabior batted aside my spells again, and again and again as I shot jinx after charm, putting him on the defensive. I scowled. If he put the shield up, I'd be able to pin him down with a bombardment, but he was being cautious. I moved to warp the stage, to throw him off his feet, only to stop myself in the nick of time. I couldn't do that here. It wasn't allowed.
"Incarcerous!" Avery shouted, and thick ropes shot through the air towards me. Giles flicked them aside and returned fire with a Petrificus Totalus.
"Vestio anima!" Scabior called, and I glanced away from Avery just in time to see the spell spark against Gile's hastily cast shield, right in front of me. He'd just tried to tag me with a clothes-controlling jinx! Cheeky bugger! We couldn't have that!
Giles kept the shield up as Avery and Scabior took turns hammering away at it, while I lifted my wand, pointing it into the air.
"Avis."
With a bang, yellow birds and smoke flew skyward. Giles paused in shock, and his shield faltered, and I had to halt the spell to guard him against an opportunistic shot from Avery.
As the birds dived, Scabior tried to swipe them away while Avery shielded, but they were on the defensive now.
My flipendo hammered into Avery's shield, making him stagger. Grinning, I tried again, but the guy was smart, sinking to the stage to lower his centre of gravity. It wouldn't matter soon, though. I only needed a minute of this to disqualify him.
"Depulso!" Scabior said, finishing off the last of the birds before turning his wand back on us. "Ignes fatui!"
In an instant, shimmering lights ballooned out of his wand, flashing back and forth across the stage.
"Avis!" I said again, but as the birds shot out of my wand, the lights honed in on them, strobing them.
"Serpensortia!"
I froze as the snake exploded from Avery's wand, thudding to the floor in the middle of the stage with an angry hiss. It took precedent. I needed to kill it. I could practically feel my animagus form trying to attack.
"Flipendo!"
In an instant, I was flying. Confused. The barrier caught me and I blinked in shock.
What had just happened‽
One of the assistants helped me out of the magical barrier, and I met a tired-looking Giles as he limped off the stage.
"That was bloody brilliant!" I said with an exhausted grin. "Although, after all that, I think need a rest."
"What happened?" I asked as a mediwitch bustled over, casting a few examination charms on us before hurrying off.
"You went down," Giles said. "I was too focused on that Scabior guy to shield you. As soon as you were gone, it was over. They just overwhelmed me. I got tagged by a binding spell almost instantly."
"Puck damn it," I growled, glancing up at the stage where the two were bowing to the crowd. "Well, at least we gave them a good fight."
"I'm pretty sure Scabior was holding back," Giles said, running his hand through his hair. "He just seemed too relaxed to be taking things seriously."
I frowned, glancing at where the two duelist death-eaters had been. Weird. I thought Scabior was just a henchman in the other time.
"Anyway," Giles said, leaning on my shoulder, "how was this for a Christmas event? It kind of makes up for there being no Triwizard tournament!"
I rolled my eyes at Gile's antics.
"I much preferred this over whatever they'd have come up with for those death games," I replied.
"Death games!" Giles exclaimed with a cheeky grin. "I think you mean 'ancient and noble sporting event!'"
"As if!" I retorted. "Come on, let's get back to the stands. I want to see the next match."
"Sure thing little brother," Giles said. "And… thanks. For doing this."
I nodded. We may have lost, but it was Christmas. The last Christmas I'd have here with my family.
I was going to enjoy it to its fullest.
Last edited: Apr 18, 2022
Revelations
"Hey, Little Le Fay!"
"Long time no see!"
I glanced up from my book as Fred and George sat down on either side of me, grabbing croissants from one of the many breakfast platters burdening the Hufflepuff table.
"Long time no see indeed," I agreed, putting down my book. "What have you two been up to?"
"Oh, you know, this and that, " Fred said, taking a bite of the pastry. "Umbridge has been giving us trouble though."
"She's recruited Filch to follow us around," George explained. "We've had to cut back on our pranks."
"I've heard," I said, carefully buttering a slice of toast. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Pinocchio nose incident the other day in History?"
"I wouldn't have a clue what you're talking about," George said with a grin.
"I mean," Fred continued, "how on earth would we know about a muggle fairy tale like that?"
"Well that's a shame," I said, playing along. "If it was you, I would have to commend you for the fast work. Only two months since our discussion on muggle fairy tales and you already have a working spell."
"It's too bad," George agreed. "If it were us, we'd tell you about the Jiminy cricket jinx we came up with over the holidays."
"Jiminy cricket jinx?" I asked.
"It makes the target see and hear little crickets that give helpful moral advice," George explained.
"Umbridge has taken to wearing anti-insect charms," Fred said with a laugh.
"Sounds like you two had an eventful holiday," I said, grinning widely.
"You're telling us," Fred said.
"Umbridge left Hogwarts for the hols," George commented. "So we got the chance to test out a few new joke products without her breathing over our shoulders. We've nearly finished our portable swamp, but the portable jungle is giving us trouble."
"On an entirely unrelated note, do you want a meringue?" Fred asked.
I took the offered sweet and concentrated on it, trying to get a feel for whatever magic had been baked into it. There was something there, but I couldn't figure out what it was.
"What's it do?" I asked bluntly, glancing at George.
"Worth a shot," Fred muttered, while George smirked.
"We call them monkey meringues," he said. "That one there turns you into an orangutan. We also have samples that can turn people into howler monkeys and baboons if you're interested."
"I'm good thanks," I said, handing the sweet back. "So, it sounds like you had a busy one."
"You're one to talk," Fred said. "Lee told us he saw you duel at the Diagon Alley event. He said you lost!"
"Well, I've never been in an official duel before," I replied, a tad defensively. "Plus, it was a group duel, so I had to work with my brother, instead of only looking after myself."
"Sounds like someone's a bit of a sore loser," Fred whispered to George, only to get an elbow to the ribs.
"Sucks that you lost," George said, glaring at his brother. "I'm a bit surprised that you haven't learned all that stuff from Dumbledore though…"
"I'm learning how to fight for my life, not put on a performance," I said.
"Oh, Merlin! You sound like Malfoy!" Fred exclaimed. "Quick, George, it's all going to his head!"
I rolled my eyes at his antics, pulling out a clay bead from my pocket.
"Oh no, great one!" Fred faux gasped, eyes on the bead. "I didn't mean it! Honest!"
"You made much progress on those things?" George asked.
"I simplified the rune-cluster," I said, handing it over. "And I've carved it into the bead instead of drawing it on. I can get four, sometimes five uses out of it now."
"You think we can borrow some of these?" George asked.
"Go for it," I told him, taking a bite out of my waiting piece of toast. "I want a few of those monkey meringues, though. And you have to teach me that Pinocchio spell."
"Done," George said instantly.
"Be careful, though," Fred warned. "Umbridge gave us detention because she suspected we were the ones to do it. Don't get caught. Her detention was-"
My eyes flickered to his hand and he paused. I couldn't see any scars or signs of cosmetics or glamour.
"Wait, Carnac…" Fred said slowly. "Do you know about the detention?"
I glanced up to see both the twins were staring at my hands apprehensively.
"I haven't had detention with Umbridge," I said. "Did she make you write lines? With a blood quill?"
"Yeah," George said slowly. "I'm glad you haven't had to go through that. Don't worry too much about us. We found a Roman poultice that can remove cursed scars, so it's not like there's any lasting impact."
I glanced to the front of the hall, glowering at the bloated bitch. Regardless of what the twins thought, that toad had crossed a line.
"Le Fay!"
I spun around to see Professor Moody standing there, watching me.
"Albus wants to see you," he growled. "And what's with the dirty look‽"
"I just found out something," I said as calmly as I could. "You know why Dumbledore wants to see me?"
"He'll tell you himself," Professor Moody said, magical eye swivelling around. "Come on!"
"We'll talk later," I told the Twins as I got up, grabbing my book and leaving my half-eaten breakfast behind. "Until then, keep out of trouble."
"Don't we always," Fred said, looking a bit unnerved by my glower.
"You keep out of trouble as well, Carnac," George said. "Don't do anything stupid."
Stupid. I wasn't going to be stupid with how I handled Umbridge. She'd hurt my friends. I was not going to stand for that.
The walk up to Dumbledore's office was spent in silence. Professor Moody seemed quite content to let me seethe and stew.
Pounding on the door, he limped to the side as soon as it opened, taking his place in the corner while I took my seat before the desk.
Dumbledore watched me with a troubled expression.
"Carnac," he said slowly. "I heard that you participated in the duel at Diagon Alley during the Christmas holidays."
I watched the headmaster closely, confused as to what this was about.
"Yeah," I said. "I did."
"I heard over the wizarding wireless," Dumbledore continued, stroking his beard. "From how Ludo narrated, it was quite a fight."
I watched the headmaster, waiting for him to continue.
"You fought Mr. Avery?" Dumbledore asked. "And Mr. Scabior Turner."
I watched Dumbledore in bewilderment, my anger from before forgotten. I could understand his concern about Avery, but why the emphasis on Scabior? He was a Snatcher in the other time. Barely a Death Eater.
"I fought them," I confirmed after the silence had dragged on for too long. "What's this all about?"
Dumbledore sighed, taking off his spectacles to polish them, not meeting my eye.
"I have a confession to make," he said softly.
"Just get on with it Albus!" Professor Moody growled from his corner.
"I will," Dumbledore said, breathing out. "Last year, shortly before the end of the school year, Harry had a dream."
I watched Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. I knew he'd been keeping secrets, but I'd thought I had a good grasp of what exactly he was keeping from me.
"A dream," I repeated. "Of Voldemort."
It wasn't a question, and Dumbledore knew it.
"Yes. Of Voldemort."
I leaned forward, fingers crossed. Tense. Waiting.
"In his dream," Dumbledore said, picking each word with solemn care, "Harry saw a ritual."
"Oh spare the boy the dramatics," Moody growled.
"Another Horcrux?" I guessed.
"No," Dumbledore said. "It was a ritual to gain a body."
I stared at Dumbledore in confusion.
"Didn't you deal with that?"
"It wasn't the bones of the father ritual," Dumbledore said with a small shake of his head. "From what we can tell, it was one that fully healed the body Tom was inhabiting, as well as rejuvenating his soul."
I sat in silence. Mouth dry. I could see where this was going.
"Tom is back," Dumbledore said. "He's back in Britain, and he has a body."
I sat, frozen in place. Wrestling with the overwhelming desire to scream and curse. Instead, I took a deep breath.
"And you didn't mention anything," I said, voice aggressively polite, even as I glared at the headmaster.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Dumbledore said softly. "I didn't want to add to your burden. You already knew of the other time, and I saw that was a weight on your shoulders. I didn't want to add to it. Not when you were finally getting the chance to be a child.
I bristled at that.
"I haven't been a child for quite a while, headmaster," I said, my words clipped. "Tell me, why bring it up now?"
I knew the answer, but he needed to say it.
"The individual Voldemort has taken over, it was Scabior Turner," Dumbledore said, watching me closely. "I believe Voldemort is now in full control."
"Would you have told me if I hadn't fought him?" I asked through gritted teeth.
Dumbledore didn't answer, instead, taking off his spectacles again to polish them.
"May I be excused?" I said, standing up.
"You may go," Dumbledore said with a small sad nod. "But Carnac, just know that I had your best interests at heart when I kept this from you."
I forced myself to stay silent as I nodded with restrained politeness to the two of them, and turned for the door.
I knew Dumbledore had been keeping secrets, but I'd hoped that he would at least enlighten me about the fact that Voldemort was alive and well in Britain. Especially after my two prior run-ins with him, and with the target I had on my back as Dumbledore's apprentice.
Walking out into the corridor, I gritted my teeth, putting those thoughts aside. I was too angry now to think clearly. I'd process this when I'd calmed down.
Then, well, I had half a year to deal with Voldemort's return.
Ambush
"You alright Carnac?" Luna asked as we wandered aimlessly through Hogsmeade, breath steaming in the cold January air. "You look like you have a wrackspurt infestation."
"Yeah, I know," I said, tightening my scarf. "I've just had a lot on my mind recently."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
I glanced ahead to where Neville and Hermione were chatting amicably, making sure they weren't listening in. I didn't want them to overhear this.
"I've been thinking about curses recently," I said. "I've been wondering if there are any that can't be counteracted by moly."
Luna looked thoughtful and I gave her a moment, watching my breath rise in a cloud of steam. I wanted to deal with Umbridge and the Death Eaters, and the easiest way I could think of that didn't put me in harm's way was sending them cursed trinkets. Unfortunately, every spell, jinx, and curse I could find that'd put them out of commission could easily be counteracted with moly.
"It would have to be very dark," Luna said slowly. "The sort of thing that kills someone or rots away limbs. Beyond that, I'm not sure…"
I nodded slowly. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I was hoping to do something subtle with a slow-acting effect so I could avoid getting the attention of Voldemort, Dumbledore, and the Ministry. As soon as people like Umbridge or Malfoy or Johnny Pure-blood from accounting started keeling over from cursed jewellery, there was going to be an investigation, and I didn't want anything that could lead back to me.
"Hey, you two!" Hermione called out. "You want to head to Honeydukes?"
Luna nodded avidly while I sighed.
"You all go ahead," I said. "I'll hang around out here and do some window shopping."
"You sure Carnac?" Neville asked, slowing down to walk beside Luna and me.
"Yeah," I said. "Go ahead."
Neville and Hermione shot each other a look, while Luna began to hum happily to herself.
"Alright," Hermione finally said. "Meet you at the Three Broomsticks in ten minutes?"
"More like thirty minutes," I said with a laugh, nodding at Luna. "Remember last time you went in with her?"
"I wonder if they've ordered in the dirigible plum gum," Luna said dreamily, ignoring my comment.
"Alright," Hermione said, looking unsure. "See you in a bit."
I nodded, watching them go. After my last encounter with Trocar, I just couldn't feel safe in Honeydukes. It was a bit illogical, perhaps, but I just felt so uncomfortable there.
Turning, I began to walk slowly, mulling over my predicament with the Death Eaters. I couldn't curse them, and the only other real option to put them down for good was to kill them, and I wasn't ready to open up that bag of PTSD, mental breakdowns, and danger yet.
"'Scuse me mate."
I turned to see a scruffy man with a scarred face.
"Yeah?" I asked slowly.
"You Carnac Le Fay?"
I watched the man cautiously, ready to flick my wand out at a moment's notice.
"Yeah," I said.
"Imperio!"
Instantly, my suspicion drained away and my wand slipped out of my loose fingers. I felt light, and warm, and calm.
Glancing nervously up and down the empty street, the man pushed me into an alley, before turning to me.
"Put your hood up and follow!"
I tried to fight, tried to struggle, but It was like every thought of resistance was smothered by the tranquility of the spell.
"Imperio," the man repeated, and, once more, I was at peace.
"For fucks sake," the man muttered. "This is going to be annoying."
Werewolves, vampires and a wild hunt
I came to shivering.
Glancing around, I tried to move, to get up and reach for my wand, but I was tied up, and as I squirmed, the ropes constricted, digging into my arms and pressing against my chest.
"Look who's finally awake."
I focused again on my surroundings, trying to take in the details. I was in a grotto, leaning against the cold stone. Outside, I could see snow drifting lazily down in the darkness, and the black branches of trees seemed to reach out like gnarled hands.
"How're you feeling half-breed?"
To the side, three men sat around a cauldron, watching me. They were all scruffy and unkempt, faces scarred and dirty.
"Oy! Fucker! I'm talking to you!"
I ignored the speaker, watching the man who'd brought me here as he leered at me. Muttering, the speaker got to his feet, striding over and squatting down in front of me.
"Half-breed. Do you know who I am?"
I recoiled from the smell of his breath, glancing up at his face and freezing.
He grinned at me, showing crooked yellow teeth.
"You do recognise me," he said, voice thick with amusement. "Oy, Bruno, what did you do to him? He looks fucking dopy!"
I stared at the man as he turned away. I knew him. I definitely knew him.
That man was Fenrir Greyback.
"I had to hit him with a compulsion spell," Bruno, the man who'd snatched me, said. "He kept kicking off my Imperio, so I thought if I added that on, it'd keep him down."
I blinked as slowly. My thoughts were beginning to flow a bit more clearly now.
Muttering something, Greyback grabbing my head and forcefully twisting it so he could look me in the eye.
I glared at him, and he grinned.
"You're lucky, Bruno," he said. "The half-breed's looking better now. He's no good to us braindead."
"Fuck you," I muttered.
Greyback's face froze, then, he smacked me in the side of the head hard enough to make me see stars.
"I won't take disrespect," he said, his voice a growl. "Especially not from new members of my pack! The Dark Lord promised you to me-"
"What makes you think I'd ever join you, you fucking rabid shit‽" I swore, and Greyback scowled, hitting me in the side of the head again.
"You'll join me!" he snarled. "You'll have no choice. Not once you're one of us and the whole of wizarding Britain's turned against you."
"Oh stop playing with him, Fenrir," a cold, familiar voice said.
Greyback stood back, and Trocar stepped into the firelight, brushing snow from his robes.
"It's been a while, Mr. Le Fay," he said neutrally. "I've heard you've made much progress in your studies."
"What are you doing here vampire?" Greyback growled, baring his yellow teeth at Trocar. "You gave up your claim on him! He's mine!"
"That may be so," Trocar said, not taking his eyes off me, "but the Dark Lord wanted me to deliver a message."
"Fucker," I swore, struggling against the ropes as I glared at the vampire. "What happened to using Voldemort? Sounds like you're his little errand boy now."
" Au contraire, Le Fay," Trocar said, slipping into french. " I still serve my own goal."
"Speak English you undead fuck," Greyback growled.
" Connerie," I cussed in French. " You were going on and on about me being the 'saviour' to rebuild Britain, and now you're literally throwing me to the wolves!"
Greyback ducked down and hit me in the temple and I was knocked down, slumping against the stone floor, ropes tightening further, as he growled "speak English you fucking half-breed!"
"You think being a werewolf is the end?" Trocar asked. "Once the Ministry and all its stigma are gone, you and you alone will be able to define what it means. For now, though, the Dark Lord has decided it is best for you to see how the Ministry treats those cursed with lycanthropy."
"Fuck you," I rasped, head spinning.
"Half-breed," Fenrir said in a growl, "It's almost time! Corach? Is the potion ready?"
"Yeah, boss," the man at the cauldron said, pulling a ladle out of his robes. "It's done."
"Good," Fenrir said, pulling off his robes. I glanced away as the other two men did the same, tossing the dirty garments aside.
"Vampire! leave!" Fenrir stated shortly, before turning to me. "We all have our causes, half-breed. Mine is to get respect for my kind. The Vampire's is to tear down the ministry, and yours is to serve as a symbol."
"Oh, please stop monologuing," I sneered. "You sound like a fucking maniac."
With a snarl, Greyback kicked me in the gut, and I wheezed.
"I shall see you soon, Mr. Le Fay," Trocar said, as I tried to get my breath back.
As the vampire Disappeared into the snowy darkness, Greyback pulled me from the floor, propping me back up against the rock.
"My kind is threatened," he growled. "Neutered by the Ministry with Wolfsbane and Homorphus Charms. Forced to dance to their tune. You'll find out what it's like soon, Half-breed, and when you do, you'll welcome the Dark Lord."
"Fuck you," I managed, and Greyback grinned at me.
"Still running your mouth, even without your wand and wrapped up like a Christmas present. You'll make a fine wolf."
"Seven minutes boss," one of the men, Corach, called from over by the cauldron.
Wordlessly, Greyback walked back to his robes and pulled a knife out of the folds, striding back to me with a wicked grin.
"Let the hunt begin," he said, cutting the ropes.
"Stupify!" I shouted, clamping my hands around his throat. Red light flashed, and the idiot crumpled.
I turned to the two naked men by the cauldron, baring my teeth.
"Fuck!" the guy who'd kidnapped me, Bruno, swore as he rushed for his discarded robes, while the other, Corach, hastily dipped his ladle into the cauldron and choked back a mouthful of the scalding liquid.
"Stupify!" I roared, aiming at Bruno, but he stumbled, the spell missing him. I summoned his robes as he reached them, but he ignored the flying fabric, snatching his wand from the stone floor.
"Ossio Dispersimus!" he yelled, and I threw up his robes in time to block the spell.
"Diffindo!" Corach snarled, slicing the fabric in two and stepping forward as Bruno retreated to the cauldron. "Diffindo!"
I tried to bat the spell aside, but without my wand, I was too slow. I clenched my hand and hissed through gritted teeth as blood began to run from the slash along my forearm.
"Take that you little fecker!" Corach crowed, and I snarled, raising my bloodied hand.
"Bombarda!"
The spell hit him and slid across his bare shoulder like oil on water, exploding against the stone wall.
"You're dead now you little shit," Bruno called, and I glanced at the cauldron to see him striding forward, wand in one hand and ladle clenched in the other like a cudgel.
"You'd better run, little fey," Corach said in a singsong voice. "It's almost moon-rise!"
I glanced at the cauldron in realisation as my confidence bled away. They'd brewed up something to counteract the effects of spells! What sort of bullshit was that?
"Iron-hide potion, you little shit," Bruno said mockingly. "Just like the Beast of Gévaudan drank during his transformations! The Dark Lord provides for his followers."
"You'll soon be one of us," Corach added. "If I don't tear you to pieces first!"
Turning, I ran. Behind me, the two began to laugh loudly, calling out insults as I fled into the darkness.
I was in some sort of forest, and stumbling over branches and clumps of dead bracken, I tried to get away.
I was too panicked to think clearly.
I was going to die! Ripped to shreds by Puck-damned werewolves! Or else, turned into one.
I picked up my pace. Clutching my bleeding arm. Blood that'd mark my trail.
Almost instinctively, I shifted to my animagus form, only to hiss in pain as I landed on my wounded front leg. I changed back, sprawled out on the forest floor, and in the pale moonlight, I could see the gash was wide open, sticky with blood.
Behind me, I heard screams. Screams that were quickly becoming more like howls.
Stumbling to my feet, I continued to run. Maybe I could climb a tree? Up ahead, I could see an opening. I made towards it.
Behind me, the animalistic cries of pain stopped. All I could hear was my ragged panicked breathing. Then, a cold howl echoed out through the dark forest, two more soon joining the chorus.
I glanced at the open ground ahead, then, picked a tree and tried to climb, but my bloody arm was useless, and my hands were numb from the cold.
I heard them coming, and, once more, I shifted into my animagus form.
Fur bristled and teeth bared, I turned, just in time to see three wolves burst into the clearing.
They circled where I was, snorting and sniffing at the blood speckled across the ground and snapping at me. Confused.
I hissed back, ready to fight. I couldn't cast spells in my animagus form, and they were bigger than me, but if I was going to die, I would leave my mark on them.
The largest wolf, a gnarled thing with shaggy grey fur, snarled at me, stepping forward. I lunged, biting down on cold flesh.
The wolf yelped, flicking its head, and I felt a tooth snap, tasting blood. The mutt looked at me in confusion, a chunk of its nose hanging by a flap of skin.
Snarling, a younger, rust-coloured wolf jumped forward, snapping, and I leapt back, ignoring the pain in my front leg.
I knew what I had to do now.
Bounding forward, I wove away from the wolves, as they watched, preparing to chase.
Then, I shifted back into a human.
"Arbor Locomotor!" I screamed, grabbing the closest tree root, as the werewolves snarled and lunged.
Changing back into my animagus form, I scrambled forward as the werewolves barked and snarled in exuberance at the hunt. They knew I was their prey now.
Hissing, I wheeled around, and the wolves slowed, padding forward. Confused at my boldness.
I heard the creaking sound of my spell taking effect on the tree, and chittered again, even as the werewolves glanced up nervously at the rattling branches above.
They didn't have a chance to move before, around them, roots tore themselves out of the ground as the tree I'd touched came to life.
Scampering forward, I heard the wolves yelping and woody sounds, and everything smelt earthy as clumps of cold clay and loam were shaken free by the roots.
I ran, and didn't stop until I was clear of the trees. It was only then I looked back.
The tree, a silver birch, was still tearing its roots free. Two of the werewolves were slowly being crushed, eyes popping and bones crunching, while the third one, the one with the rust-coloured fur, was growling at the tree, hackles raised.
Sneezing at the overwhelming smell of dirt, I scampered on top of a lichen-covered rock, and stood on my hind legs trying to get my bearings.
I was on an outcrop at the ridge of a hill. The forest I'd just escaped hid most of the valley behind its tree-line, but through the bare foliage, I could make out towers, outlined against the silvery surface of a lake.
I was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Glancing back down at the moving tree, I saw that rusty the wolf had given up trying to intimidate the tree and was sniffing the air, glancing my way.
I shifted back into my human form and knelt on the cold stone, feeling drained. I still had enough magic left to kill this fucker though.
The werewolf snarled, baring its teeth. I glared at it, grinning angrily as it began to stalk slowly forward, the shadows of the forest cloaking it in darkness, giving it an air of primal horror.
I waited, refusing to flinch or shiver.
The wolf padded towards me, skirting along the edge of the forest, and slowly, I began to draw on the rock, tracing out runes in my blood, watching the wolf as it ducked behind a clump of dead bracken.
Finally, it snarled and began to run. I waited.
It picked up its pace, but I didn't act.
Seven meters. Five meters. Then-
"Igneus Labus!"
As its paw touched down on a frost-capped rock, it sank through, revealing the glowing red interior.
The wolf let out a high-pitched whimper, eyes wide in shock, as it keeled forward, hitting a large flat boulder at my feet, even as its paw remained embedded in the molten stone.
I leapt back as the bloody runes I'd hastily scrawled on the rock went from red to black. Ice hissed, bursting upwards in a cloud of vapour, lichen, and moss shrivelled and smoked, and the werewolf tried to stagger to its feet, even as the rock it was lying on began to crease and melt.
My grin was frozen in place as I watched. Horrified.
The air was suddenly hot and dry, and smelled of smoke and burnt hair and cooking flesh. The werewolf tried to stand, even as the rock slowly sunk and bulged under its weight, splitting and allowing the molten interior to ooze out.
The werewolf began to cry. A raspy sound of something that is in the process of experiencing its vocal cords being burnt away. I watched, frozen in place, feeling sick.
I had to do it. It was either them or me.
Eventually, the sounds stopped, leaving only the crackle of burning foliage as the molten rock flowed into the Forbidden Forest below. The tree I'd animated was struggling. Trying to untangle its branches and flee.
I felt drained, but I wasn't done yet. Staggering along the ridge, away from the slagged outcrop and burning trees, I glanced at the valley and the sleeping village of Hogsmeade beyond the Black Lake.
Trocar was an undead monster, and as such, he couldn't do things that wizards took for granted. Like apparating.
He'd be heading to the nearest Floo fireplace. And I was not letting him get away.
With bared teeth, I remembered I had one more trick up my sleeve. Slowly, I rose into the air, grinding my teeth at my stupidity. I'd forgotten about my ability to fly.
Puck-damned idiocy at its finest.
Ascending higher and higher into the freezing air, I leaned forward.
I wasn't going to let that fucking Puck-damned leech of a corpse escape.
I spotted Trocar by pure chance, a dark shape following the Hogwarts express tracks towards the Hogsmeade station and the sleeping village beyond.
I dropped from the sky, landing before him, clutching my arm. I felt cold and clammy and tired and unbelievably pissed off.
Stopping, Trocar stared at me. Face betraying nothing.
"Mr. Le Fay," he said silkily. "You escaped."
I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Each breath felt like my lungs were on fire, and all I could think of was my pure hate for this undead leech.
"Blood loss," Trocar commented absently, glancing at my arm. "Magical exhaustion, and curse damage from the imperio as well. I'm surprised you're still standing."
I tried to raise my good arm, to blast Trocar, but it felt leaden.
Slowly, Trocar turned his head, looking to where the ridge-line where flames were just beginning to appear.
"Impressive," he said.
I glared at the vampire, struggling to breathe. I was so tired.
"For the record," Trocar said, stepping forward. "It was the Dark Lord who wished for you to be changed. Not me."
As he brushed past, I bared my teeth and gathered my strength, and turned to face his retreating form.
"Transmogrify," I gasped.
Trocar froze, and a sharp crack rang through the air. I watched in immense satisfaction as he folded, collapsing to the tracks, twisting to face me, his face caught in a silent scream.
I sank to the ground, hands shaking as Trocar spasmed, arms and legs snapping loudly as they were bent by the magic.
That was the last thing I saw as, slowly, the world faded to black.
Last edited: May 7, 2022
St Mungo's
Groaning, I stared at the plain white ceiling above, dazedly.
"I'm never doing that again," I muttered to myself, slowly trying to move.
Shifting, I took in my surroundings. I was in a cot in a sterile-looking room. The air smelt like mint and bleach.
Sighing, I leaned back into my pillow, exhausted by the brief movement. Why was I so tired? Forcing myself to sit up further, I looked down and froze.
My arms were green. Slowly, I shifted them, looking for the slash in my arm, but it was gone. Satisfied, I twitched my fingers, weirded out by the coloration.
"Oh good, you're awake."
I glanced up as a man in the green robes of a healer strode into the room, clipboard in hand.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Le Fay," he asked.
"Like shit," I croaked, blinking to stay awake.
The healer hummed, fishing around in his robes, pulling out a small vial.
"Wideye Potion," he said, uncapping the vial. "It tastes rotten, but you should feel all the more better for it. Open up."
I stared at the man incredulously. Did he really expect me to drink that?
"Where am I?" I croaked.
The man raised an eyebrow at my refusal to take the potion, before shrugging and placing it on the bedside table.
"St Mungo's," he said, glancing at his clipboard. "You've been through quite the ordeal, Mr. Le Fay. We've just finished dealing with the green thumb infection - your skin should clear up in a week - and the atrophied muscles."
Atrophied muscles? I shifted uncomfortably.
"How long was I out?" I asked.
"Five months," the healer said, giving me a short glance. "It's mid-June now."
I stared at him in shock. Five months‽
"Why was I out so long?" I rasped.
"You were brought in with a nasty cut on your arm, blood loss, and hypothermia," the healer said, consulting his clipboard. "As we treated you, we kept running into complications. Magical exhaustion, nerve damage in your arms, curse backlash - which all contributed to the green thumb infection. Then, there was the Imperio damage to your mind, and a rather obscure curse that the vampire left on you."
"Trocar?"
"That's the one-"
"What happened to him?" I demanded, trying weakly to prop myself up. My Transmogrifian curse should have immobilised him, twisting his limbs until they couldn't work, but it wouldn't have been enough to kill a vampire. And it was a dark curse as well.
I could only hope Dumbledore found me before the Ministry.
"The vampire was found twisted up like a pretzel," the healer said, watching me closely. "I heard the Ministry had him put down… we believe the curse backlash you suffered was from whatever you cast on it."
I stared at the healer warily. So, people knew I'd done dark magic. Not good.
The only bright point was that I didn't have to worry about Trocar anymore.
"As I was saying," the healer continued, keeping a suspicious eye on me. "We spent ages trying to dislodge the vampire's curse from your mind; 'Achilles Glory.' It would have led to you seeking out glory and conflict until you died. We didn't want to wake you until we were sure it was gone."
I grimaced. Even after I'd tortured him, Trocar had still tried to shape me into some sort of hero.
"After that, we had to deal with the green thumb infection," the healer continued, "and the atrophied muscles were sorted last Tuesday. You should be alright now, Mr. Le Fay. Your Master has sent some people to pick you up, if you want me to bring them in?"
I nodded slowly, mouth dry. By the sounds of it, I was lucky to be alive.
Shooting one final glance at the Wideye Potion on my bedside table, the healer nodded my way and stepped out.
"He's ready to see you two now."
As soon as the two people stepped in, I panicked. A tall black man and a woman with mossy-brown hair, both dressed in the scarlet trenchcoat-style robes of Aurors.
Fearful thoughts flashed through my mind, but before I could act, the woman's hair shifted to bright pink.
"Wotcha, Carnac," Tonks said, giving me a small grin. "You feeling better?"
"I'll leave you lot be," the healer said, handing the clipboard to the man, and closing the door.
Mind still racing, I stared at the two. It'd been five months. I didn't know what had changed.
"Tonks," I asked, "in the kitchens, who did we use to hang out with?"
Tonks looked at me blankly for a moment, while the man nodded approvingly.
"Cedric and Charlie," she said, watching me with a raised eyebrow.
"He's a smart one," the man said in a slow, baritone voice. "I see you already know Tonks. I'm Auror Kingsley. Professor Dumbledore sent us to pick you up."
I watched them with a wrinkled brow. I was starting to get a migraine.
"What's happened?" I asked. "What's the situation."
The two shared a look.
"You-Know-Who has gotten bolder," Tonks said hesitantly. "It's mostly just small attacks, but they're becoming more and more frequent. Azkaban and the Ministry are under constant guard to prevent a breakout or-"
"We can discuss this when we're safe," Kingsley said, pulling a bag out of his robes and tossing it to me. "We'll be taking muggle transportation to a safe-house, so you'll need to dress the part. Your wand is in there as well, in case we run into trouble."
"Trouble?" I asked.
"Death Eaters," Tonks explained, running her hands through her hair as it shifted from yellow to green to purple. "We're also worried about the Ministry. They wanted to take you into custody. They're trying to distract people from the war by painting you up as an upcoming Dark Lord. Some of the things Trocar said, and the curse you used on him, and the signs of blood magic that started the forest fire-"
"Tonks," Kingsley said. "Now is not the time."
"The Ministry may still send someone," Tonks said, ignoring Kingsley. "People like Malfoy are pushing for your arrest. We're only allowed to take you to the safe-house because Dumbledore has authority due to the Apprenticeship-"
"Auror Tonks!" Kingsley said. "We can discuss this later! Get dressed Carnac. We need to move."
Nodding, I watched as they left, before pulling out my wand to tap the vial of Wideye potion, checking it was safe. Satisfied, I hastily downed the foul-tasting concoction, instantly feeling more attentive.
I needed to be wide awake and alert.
I had a feeling something bad was going to happen.
In the hallway, Tonks and Kingsley had transfigured their robes into muggle ware. Kingsley sporting a business suit, while Tonk's outfit just screamed punk-rock.
"Let's go," Kingsley said simply, as I stepped out.
I nodded, still clutching my wand. I wished I had a holster, or even long sleeves to hide it in. A few orderlies and waiting visitors shot me nervous looks as we passed them in the corridors, but I ignored them.
After my struggle to deal with Trocar and the werewolves wandlessly, I was not going to be caught like that without it again.
We made it outside before everything went wrong.
Stepping out of the glass storefront of the condemned Purge and Dowse department store, I was on high alert, and I could see Tonks was too by the way she kept glancing around nervously and running her hand through her hair. Only Kingsley seemed calm, surveying the street with cool professionalism.
"We're parked one street over," Tonks said, as if trying to reassure me. "Kingsley's great at dealing with the Muggle side of things-"
"Eye's forward, Tonks," Kingsley said softly. "Focus on getting to the car. Carnac, if anything happens, run."
I nodded, feeling a knot in my stomach. From the way they were talking, it sounded like there was a threat of attack. And I didn't think the Ministry was corrupt enough to get away with sending Hit Wizards.
Glancing around, I felt exposed. Surrounded by muggles in their form-fitting clothes, and the alien noises of cars and the city, I felt on edge. It was all just so foreign.
My anxiety was interrupted by three loud, sharp cracks.
The muggles froze, screamed, and glanced around fearfully as the three men in black-hooded robes and silver skull masks stepped forward, wands raised.
"Avada Kedavra!"
I acted on instinct, all those lessons with Dumbledore on battle magic kicking in.
"Accio!" I screamed, as Tonks fired a stunner, and Kingsley ripped a postbox from the curb to halt the death curse.
The guy to the left was ripped off his feet as my spell clipped his robes, flying forward, right into my clothes-controlling jinx.
The remaining two Death Eaters were caught off guard by the viciousness of the counterattack. The idiots probably thought this'd be like a duel!
They'd learn!
Tonk's spell sparked against the lead Death Eaters shield, while, with a depulso, Kingsley sent the postbox careening towards the pair, letters fluttering everywhere as the second stooge managed to halt it with an Arresto Momentum.
Still struggling, the Death Eater I'd summoned was dragged under a parked car by his writhing robes. I ducked behind it, shooting a quick stunner at him, before a rather wicked thought crossed my mind.
The two Death Eaters were completely focused on their duel with Tonks and Kingsley, although, now they were putting up a fight, firing killing curse after killing curse, forcing my escorts on the backfoot as they summoned car doors and street signs to block the green flashes, firing back spells when they could.
"Snufflifors!" I muttered, ducking down to fire a pink burst of light under the car at the unconscious Death Eater, before summoning his shrunken, unconscious form into my pocket.
I'd deal with him later.
Looking over the boot of the car, I almost got a stunner to the face. The constant killing curses were putting Tonks and Kingsley on the offensive.
Gritting my teeth, I tapped the car.
"Vocar Arktos!"
Instantly, magic flashed across it, replacing the red paint with black skin and whitish fur.
The Death Eaters froze as the polar bear opened its mouth, peeled back its lips, and roared, showing sharp white canines.
The first Death Eater went down, too distracted to shield himself from Kingsley's stunner. The last one was quick to act. As the bear reared up, he fired an Avada Kedavra into its chest, casting a shield spell to block Tonk's jinx even before the detransfigured car fell back to the pavement with a crash.
He surveyed us all for a second, before, with a crack, he apparated away.
"You'd better run!" Tonk's called angrily, while Kingsley sent ropes spinning around the unconscious Death Eater with a quick Incarcerous, before glancing at me.
"Tonks," he said, looking up and down the empty street. "The Hit Wizards will be here soon, and the last thing we need is for the Ministry to know about Carnac's underage magic. Follow plan B."
Tonks nodded firmly as Kingsley transfigured his scuffed suit back into his Auror robes with a flick of his wand, fishing around in them for a note which he handed to me.
"Read it quickly," he said.
I glanced at the strip of parchment hastily, before pausing, needing to reread it to be sure I wasn't seeing things.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
I handed the note back, and Kingsley incinerated it with a flick of his wand, disappearing the ashes.
"You knew we'd be attacked," I stated as Tonks put a hand on my shoulder.
"Suspected," Kingsley said quickly. "But Voldemort didn't send this lot. They were probably looking to earn his favour by capturing you.
Down the street, I heard a series of loud cracks as men and women in scarlet Auror robes apparated onto the scene.
"Go," Kingsley said calmly, putting his wand away and turning towards them. "I'll see you tonight at the Order meeting."
Tonks nodded firmly, and with a gut-wrenching twist, we apparated away, and I tumbled to the ground in an abandoned carpark.
"Well then," I said, slowly getting to my feet. "That was… eventful."
"Let's get moving," Tonks said, glancing around. "We don't want to be out in the open like this for too long."
I nodded, following her as we strode towards the street.
What exactly had happened while I'd been out?
Last edited: Apr 24, 2022
Passing the time at Grimmauld Place
Sitting in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, I nursed a glass of pumpkin juice while staring at the mound of letters before me with trepidation.
"That the last of them?" Ginny Weasley asked from across the table as she fed my new mouse, shoving crumbs of toast into the white rodent's cage.
"Hopefully," I muttered, picking up one and waving my wand over it. "What did Rita say to set them off this time?"
Picking up that morning's copy of Daily Prophet, Ginny glanced at the front cover with a small frown.
I hadn't really spoken to her since my third year, but now that I was trapped in Grimmauld Place with only the Weasleys, Harry, and the occasional Order of the Phoenix member to talk to, we'd had the chance to properly make each other's acquaintance.
"Looks like she's doing another follow-up piece," she said with a scoff. "Honestly! You'd think they'd have found something else to talk about."
"What's the rumour she's spreading today?" I asked, opening the letter and scanning the contents. "Wait, let me guess; she said I'm the second coming of Grindelwald."
"Yup," Ginny said, tossing the paper aside. "I do not get why you don't just burn them…"
"They're interesting," I said with a grin. "Listen to this; 'You're a sorry excuse for a Death Eater Go Hang!' Short, sweet, and to the point."
Ginny made a face, still feeding the mouse, while I tapped the next envelope with my wand and put it aside, unopened.
"Also I can't just burn them," I stated, gesturing to the unopened envelope. "The wards don't stop letters containing potions and alchemical concoctions. I don't know what happens to boil-powder when it's burned, and frankly, I don't want to find out."
Ginny rolled her eyes, and I tore open the next envelope in the pile, pulling out the letter.
"This one's from Hermione," I said, answering Ginny's curious glance. "It looks like she's been enjoying her time in Australia."
"She been up to much?" Ginny asked. She didn't really like Hermione, but entertainment was entertainment, even if it was just discussing someone else's holiday.
"She visited a bunyip farm apparently," I said, reading through the letter. "Sounds like she's enjoying herself, though she's also a bit peeved at the Daily Prophet."
"Is she going to be over there for much longer?" Ginny asked, sticking her finger into the mouse's cage.
"She'll be back before school starts," I said, finishing the letter. "The trip's mainly for her parents to get a feel for the country, in case the war turns ugly and they need to get out of Britain."
Ginny made a face and muttered something about running away, but I ignored her, moving on to the next letter. It was good Hermione had actually brought her parents on board in this timeline.
"Blighter!" Ginny cussed, and, glancing up, I saw she was staring at the mouse cage in shock, holding her finger.
"What happened?" I asked.
Ginny held up her finger, still glaring daggers at the mouse.
"It bit me!"
Wandlessly, I lifted up the cage, pulling over to watch the white mouse inside.
It glared back at me defiantly.
"I see why you call it Scum," Ginny said, rubbing her finger. "It reminds me of my brother's rat."
"How so?" I asked cautiously, lowering the cage to the table and checking to see if the muffliato charm on it was still there. "From what I heard, your brother's rat was a lazy glutton."
"I mean, yeah," Ginny agreed, glancing at the cage. "But your mouse just seems too smart for its own good. Where did you even get it?"
"I picked it up shortly after I got out of St Mungo's," I answered honestly.
"So, it's a wild mouse?" Ginny asked.
"You could say that."
The conversation lapsed into silence as Scum began to clean his whiskers and I continued to go through the junk mail.
"I never took you as a mouse person," Ginny eventually said.
"It was more a spur-of-the-moment choice to get him," I said, tossing aside the final letter. "I'll probably let him go before Hogwarts, though. Too many cats and owls."
Ginny nodded, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice absently.
"Luna sent me a letter as well," I said eventually, shifting the topic away from the caged rodent. "She's also out of the country. In Sweden."
"Yeah," Ginny said, not looking up. "Her dad and her are looking for the crumple-horned snorkack…"
The conversation trailed off into a dreary silence as I finished off the last of the letters and sat back. Bored.
You got any plans for today?" Ginny eventually asked, flipping through the Daily Prophet disinterestedly.
"Neville's swinging around," I said with a shrug. "Which means his dad and Sirius will disappear into the sitting room for a few hours to talk. I'm going to try and copy some spells from the Black Library while they're distracted."
"Do you need me to keep Harry and Ron busy?" Ginny asked, looking up in interest.
"It should be okay," I replied. "If we take over the Library, they'll find somewhere else to hang out. That should give me an hour to do my thing before they get bored and try and spy on us. You know what the twins will be doing?"
"They didn't tell you?" Ginny queried with a raised eyebrow.
"They asked if they could have some privacy and shut me out of the bedroom," I said with a frown.
Ginny giggled.
"They're probably blowing stuff up?" she said with a grin. "That's why they didn't tell you."
"You're kidding, right?" I demanded. Just because I was happy to share the room with the twins didn't mean I was happy for them to bomb the place.
"No," Ginny said with a firm head shake. "Don't worry, I'm sure they're making sure not to destroy your things. They're using the time here away from mum to work on their prank products. I think they're trying to make fireworks."
"Fireworks‽" I repeated. "Indoors‽"
"Probably," Ginny said with a shrug. "I'm sure they're being very careful."
I looked around incredulously, and as my eyes alighted on Scum, a thought sprung into my mind.
Pulling the cage closer, I watched the little white mouse as it stared at me defiantly.
Some sort of bomb, or explosion, or something with a large enough blast radius…
It could work.
I couldn't hunt down Death Eaters one by one. I didn't have the time, and if I left Grimmauld place, I'd have Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix after me as well as the Ministry and Tom-I-love-anagrams-Riddle.
But if I drew Voldemort and his pureblood stooges into one spot, well… wizards didn't have WMD besides fiendfyre and Bombarda Maxima.
They wouldn't see it coming if I blitzed them.
"Don't you dare zone out on me, Le Fay," Ginny said, leaning over to poke me sharply and draw me back to reality.
"Sorry," I said with a cheeky grin.
If all went to plan, I could finish off my time in the wizarding world with a bang.
Literally.
Last edited: Apr 27, 2022
Sleepless night
Staring up at the dark ceiling above, I waited.
Grimmauld Place was silent, with only the distant creaking of settling wood and the snoring of the twins in the neighbouring beds audible in the black stillness of the night.
I couldn't sleep. It was September the First; my last day in Magical Britain and the day I planned to take out Voldemort. How could I sleep‽
Satisfied the twins weren't going to wake any time soon, I slowly sat up, easing myself out of bed and wincing every time the springs squeaked and the bed frame creaked.
Standing, I reached into the darkness, feeling for the enchanted glasses I'd left on my bedside table.
The room sprung into focus as I put them on. The furniture glowed faintly in the gloom, highlighted by the magic of the charms and enchantments.
A bit more confidently now, I padded over to the trunk at the bottom of George's bed, and, with a small spark of magic, I dispelled the locking charm, slowly easing the lid open.
Fred and George had been happy to help when I'd explained why I wanted them to design a more deadly firework. Unfortunately, they'd made me promise not to carry out my plan without them, even going so far as to hide their creation.
Now though, on the eve of my battle, I needed the explosive. I was not going to put Fred and George in harm's way.
Summoning my wand, I levitated the contents of the trunk up, gently placing it on the floor, before lifting the false bottom.
There, packed neatly away, were all the twin's joke supplies, among which were several fireworks, each wreathed in a glow of cheerfully sparkling magic.
I ignored them, carefully picking up my prize. It looked physically identical to the others, but, with my enchanted glasses, I could see the magic was tinged with a harsh, flickering light.
Quickly, I transfigured a discarded rolled-up magazine into the shape of the firework and placed it carefully into the trunk, before moving everything back in place, closing the lid, and applying the locking spell. That done, I stood, grabbing a bag from my bedside table and stepping out into the hallway.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock in the study began to chime, and I paused at the landing to listen as it rang out once, then twice, then thrice, before silence fell once more.
The stairs squeaked as I padded down them, but I was too tired and too deep in thought to care about masking my footsteps.
It was only at the threshold of the Black Library that I paused to listen for any movement in the silent household, before stepping in and closing the door behind me.
Taking off the glasses, I rubbed my eyes tiredly, casting a quick Muffliato charm on the door, before turning on the Victorian era gas lamps with a small burst of magic.
Slumping in the armchair by the window, I glanced at the firework in my hand.
Fred had mentioned using an alchemical recipe from Byzantine when I'd asked what they were doing to give it the extra oomph. I hadn't been able to get anything else out of him before George appeared to drag him away, but from the flickering flame-like magic that surrounded it, I was pretty sure the firework I was holding was primed with Greek Fire.
It was funny, really. The world of Percy Jackson, one of the other worlds I'd asked the ROB to send me to, had a magical WMD with the same name.
The smile slipped from my face as I thought about the world of Percy Jackson. It was a place where Greek, Roman, Egyptian and Norse gods, and monsters roamed modern America. A world where heroes died young and the protagonists had to overcome multiple potential apocalypses.
Sighing, I put the firework into the bag I'd brought with me, and stared up at the ceiling, watching as moths begin to flutter around the light.
I wasn't ready. The deities of that world put Tom Riddle to shame. The muggle world of England felt foreign, so I had no idea how I'd survive mid-200s muggle America. And, if I derailed events as thoroughly as I had done here, then I may have to live through the literal end of Western Civilisation.
Taking a shaky breath, I leaned forward, putting my head in my hands.
The ROB had said I could take my possessions with me, but there was barely anything worth bringing. Clothes? Wizarding robes would stand out like a sore thumb. Potions? I wasn't sure if they even worked in the next world. Money? All I had were Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, which were all wizarding coins. An enchanted tent or a bewitched trunk would probably have been useful, but I wasn't allowed to leave Grimmauld Place, and asking someone to pop down to Diagon Alley to buy one for me was just asking Dumbledore to start snooping.
All I planned to take was a bag with an undetectable extension charm, my wand, my grimoire, Dumbledore's book on enchanting, a few of the Twin's prank products, and the clothes on my back.
The door creaked open and I glanced up as Harry Potter stepped into the room.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked suspiciously, looking around.
I stared at The Boy Who Lived in surprise. He'd been avoiding me all summer and now was the time he decided to ambush me?
"What're you doing up?" I asked. "It's three o'clock in the morning."
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"I hate it when you do that," he finally said.
I stared at him. Confused.
"Do what?"
"Act like you're better than me."
I watched The Boy Who Lived at a loss at what to say.
"I don't think I'm better than you," I said eventually.
"You treat me like a child," Harry snapped. "Heck, you treat everyone like children; Fred, George, Luna, your friends. They don't notice or don't care, but you do!"
I opened my mouth to retort, but Harry wasn't done.
"Just because you're Dumbledore's apprentice doesn't mean you're somehow above the rest of us! You're still a kid as well!"
"When did I ever say I was better than you?" I challenged.
Harry threw his hands up in the air.
"It's the way you act! You act aloof! You remember what you said the first time you talked to me and Ron‽ You told us to shoo! Who does that!"
"Aloof‽" I said, showing my teeth. "Look who's talking. I've been here all summer, and you haven't come over to interact with Neville or me at all! You've spent the whole time off moping with Ron! Even Ginny's been in here with us while you two were off who knows where!"
"Why would I want to hang out with Neville after he and Hermione spent a whole year accusing me‽" Harry countered. "After they went around saying I was the descendant of Slytherin‽"
"Oh grow up," I said with an eye roll.
"No, you grow up, Carnac!" Harry snapped. "You're no better than the rest of us! Why else would you be here‽"
"Excuse me‽" I said, squinting at him. "What in Puck's name do you mean by that‽"
"You act all high and mighty," Harry said, "but admit it! You're scared of Voldemort's return! That's why you're here instead of out with the Order, fighting!"
"I plan to do plenty of fighting!" I growled.
"And you're not scared‽" Harry asked mockingly. "Is that why you're sitting here in the middle of the night 'moping.'"
"Of course I'm bloody scared!" I snarled. "Voldemort's a fucking Dark Lord! And let me tell you something! You think you had it bad with a few people calling you a descendant of Slytherin‽ Try having all of Magical Britain calling you the coming of Grindelwald!"
Harry scowled at me darkly.
"So you're not a dark magic user‽ So didn't torture Trocar?" he asked, voice thick with sarcasm.
"You heard the phrase 'like a trapped rat!'" I sneered. "I'd just been through hell because of that undead leech!"
"And you'd escaped," Harry said hotly. "You didn't have to use dark magic on him, and yet you did-"
"What would you have had me do?" I interrupted. "Let him go?"
"How about not using dark magic!" Harry said. "Stun him or use a rope spell or something!"
I growled. He didn't know what I'd been through!
"Dumbledore wouldn't have taught you that spell!" Harry continued pressing his advantage. "So that means you learned it on your own! What other dark magic have you learned!"
I pushed aside my anger and frustration, clenching the armrests of the chair in a white-knuckled grip.
"How do we know you're really on our side!"
I stared at Harry long and hard as he scowled at me defiantly. The boy-who-lived. A boy with a black and white view of magic.
I grinned, feeling myself relax. Harry's resilient glare became more cautious as I leaned back in my seat, mulling over the words that'd hurt the most.
"I didn't take you as one to buy into Rita Skeeter's articles," I said casually.
Harry flushed red. He hated that reporter for what she'd said about his godfather.
"This has nothing to do with her!" he growled. "This is about you using dark magic!"
"So you don't trust Dumbledore's judgment then," I said, going for the low blow. "If he thought I was Dark, he'd have ended the apprenticeship."
Harry stared at me in disgust.
"Harry," I said, softening my voice. "Let me make something very clear to you. I will never join the side of that abomination that murdered your parents."
My voice was a whisper now as Harry Potter stared at me. Stone-faced.
"Never accuse me of siding with that Bastard ever again," I continued in a whisper.
Harry watched me for a long, tense moment, before giving me one short nod, and turning away.
As the door to the Black Library closed, I sighed, feeling bone-tired.
Harry Potter didn't like me. I'd suspected as much from him avoiding me all summer, but that was intense. What in Puck's name was he even doing up at this hour?
At least we could both find common ground on our hatred of Tom shredding-my-soul-is-healthy Riddle.
Massaging the bridge of my nose, I stood shakily.
I had a big day ahead, and I needed to sleep.
Hopefully, that little argument didn't wake anyone up.
A glorious death.
"Did you guys hear about Umbridge?" was the first thing Neville asked us when he joined us in our train compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express.
I kept my face blank and Luna looked on curiously. Hermione, however, nodded, a smile playing around her lips.
"She got what was coming," she said. "Honestly, if she hadn't made such a big deal about blood purity and all that, it wouldn't be causing such a fuss."
"My dad said half the Ministry were looking for something to knock her down a few pegs," Neville said, sitting down and openly grinning. "Now that Malfoy and the purebloods are refusing to support her, there's a bet going about how long she'll last."
"What happened?" Luna asked. "Was there something in the Daily Prophet about her?"
"Sorry Luna," Hermione said, glancing at me. "You heard about Umbridge, Carnac?"
"Enlighten us," I said, leaning forward to listen. "What has the toad done to kick up such a fuss?"
"Someone leaked a story to Rita Skeeter," Hermione said. "It turns out that, all this time, Umbridge has been lying about being a pureblood with a father who was on the Wizengamot. She's actually a muggleborn. Her mother was a muggle, her father was basically a janitor and she has a squib brother."
"Rita tracked down Orford Umbridge, her father," Neville added. "And she got a story from him about how Umbridge persuaded him to retire."
"And you believe all that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, not really," Hermione said, looking abashed. "I'm sure Skeeter exaggerated some bits. I'm just happy Umbridge got what's coming to her."
I nodded slowly. I hadn't been able to do much about Umbridge, at least not while trapped at Grimmauld Place. Thankfully, I recalled some rather interesting tidbits about her from a half-remembered video in my first life.
A mind potion had helped me flesh out the details, and now, watching that tyrannical toad fall, it was well worth the week of headaches I'd had to endure.
The conversation shifted and changed as the train ride progressed, from Luna's queries about Australian wildlife, to Neville's play-by-play of the quodpot game he visited with his mum.
I tried to be part of it, nodding at the appropriate points, or else jumping in with a comment or two, but my heart wasn't into it, and by the time the train rounded the final bend and came into sight of Hogwarts, I was practically vibrating from the nerves.
As the train began to slow, I stood, checking my watch.
It was 6:58 p.m.
The Sorting Ceremony started at eight.
I had an hour.
"I'll catch up with you guys later," I told my friends. "I just need to use the bathroom."
"We'll save you a carriage," Hermione said with a smile, but I shook my head.
"I may be a while. You go on without me."
"Are you sure you're alright, Carnac?" Neville asked, and I pasted on a smile, trying my best to ignore my apprehension.
"I'm fine."
Before I could decide against it, I stepped into the corridor and began walking, weaving my way through the crowds of students.
As soon as I was out of the train, I cast a disillusionment charm over myself, and leapt up, taking flight.
A few people who'd already made it onto the platform glanced around at my sudden disappearance, probably wondering where I'd gone, but soon, they were mobbed by the crowds of students flowing off the Hogwarts Express.
I allowed myself a moment to watch, slowly drifting higher and higher as the crowds began to pile onto the thestral-drawn carriages, before turning away, glancing at the gap in the tree-line of the distant ridge. The ridge where I'd fought the werewolves.
With a thought, I surged towards it, ignoring the sting of the wind and the knot of anxiety in my gut.
I had much to do.
Alighting on the ridge, I surveyed the destruction I'd wrought.
The flow of molten rock I'd started was now a frozen river of slag. The Forbidden Forest below was burnt and blackened and dead, with the surviving green foliage forming a wide semicircle around the charred swath.
I checked my watch quickly before setting off down the frozen flow of stone. It was 7:16 p.m. and I had to keep on schedule.
The grotto where the werewolves had kept me was empty. The Aurors must have removed the cauldron and discarded robes when they'd investigated the forest fire.
Taking another brief moment to look around with a vicious sneer, I slowly pulled a new set of trenchcoat-like robes from my bag, holding up the silky fabric to examine them in the dying light.
They were an attempt to copy the enchanted robes Dumbledore wore. Pure black, and splayed with constellations of gold runes and archaic symbols, they'd been a work in progress of mine for quite a while. Reaching once more into the bag, I retrieved a dragon-hide vest I'd nicked from Grimmauld place, and some muggle pants, also covered with enchanted hieroglyphs.
Hopefully, it'd be enough to keep me alive.
Donning them, I slowly folded my Hogwarts uniform, placing it on a rocky ledge, before pulling out the Greek Fire firework.
"Portus," I said, concentrating. The firework glowed blue and vibrated slightly, and I grinned. Tapping it again, I linked the explosion to the portus spell, before gently placing it on my folded uniform.
At Eight, the portkey would activate and it'd appear at the top of the hill.
Grinning, I picked my way back up the flow of frozen stone to the flat summit. There, I reached into my bag once more to pull out my school cauldron.
Placing it down, I stepped back, pointing my wand at it.
"Engorgio."
The cauldron began to grow, I kept the flow of magic up until it was the size of a washing machine, before gritting my teeth, and raising a shield.
"Bombarda!"
The explosion echoed across the moors. Fragments of fire-blacked iron whizzed out into the twilight, bouncing against my shield and clipping rocks.
Slowly, I dropped the shield spell and grabbed a sizeable chunk of metal from the clump of grass at the edge of the crater. Pocketing it swiftly I checked my watch.
Thirty-seven minutes to go.
Sitting there, waiting for the minutes to tick down and watching the sun set was agony.
I needed to time it right. A normal duel lasted five minutes, and I doubted I'd be able to go toe to toe with Tom Riddle for that long.
I needed to time it right so that he got here and I was able to distract him and, if it came to it, hold him off long enough for the portus spell to activate.
Finally, at 7:40, I decided it was time.
Quickly, I reached into my bag one final time and pulled out the cage with the angry white mouse in it.
It squeaked at me as the metal melted away, and I tossed the destroyed enclosure aside, wandlessly lifting the mouse into the air.
"Hello Scum," I said with a grin.
The mouse's squeaking became more frantic as it stared at me, wide-eyed.
"Petrificus totalus."
The mouse froze, hanging statuesque in the air before me, eyes darting to and fro.
"Reparifarge."
The white spell impacted the mouse, and almost instantly, it shifted back into its true form. Grunting, I set the Death Eater down on the ground and pulled off his silver skull mask.
"Listen very closely," I said as his eyes fixed on me. "Get Voldemort. Tell him I want to meet him here in five minutes. If he decides to not show up, then he'll miss the one and only chance he'll have to get me. If he needs convincing, mention Tom Marvolo Riddle. Got it?"
The Death Eater blinked, eyes fixed on me, still frozen.
Stepping back, I casually unfroze him and he staggered to his feet.
"You little shit!" he snarled. "The Dark Lord will make you wish-"
"Silencio" I said, and instantly, the Death Eater's rant was censored. "You have ten minutes. If you don't succeed, then I will hunt you down, change you back, and feed you to a cat. Now piss off!"
The Death Eater made a rude gesture my way before, with a crack, he was gone.
Hastily, I stowed my wand away in my bag, pulling out my old, broken wand and, after a second of thought, a few prank items. Stowing my bag away within my vest, I experimentally flicked the broken wand, grinning as sparks shot out.
It had been surprisingly easy to make a blasting rod. All I'd needed to do was stick a forked bit of magnetised steel to the end, wrap a few sprigs of blackthorn around it, and voilà.
It wouldn't last long, but I didn't need it to.
Grinning, I holstered my rod and glanced around, glancing quickly at my watch.
7:42.
Hopefully, I timed it right. The less I had to interact with Voldemort, the less time I had to screw things up.
It was 7:51 when a crack echoed across the moors. Instantly, I had my rod pointed at Voldemort and Scum the Death Eater.
Tom Riddle smirked at me with a cold, reptilian grin. Casually, he let go of Scum's shoulder, stepping forward as the Death Eater keeled over, gasping for breath.
"Well now," he said, smiling at me widely. "Isn't this a surprise?"
He was still wearing the form of Scabior, although he looked different. Paler. Colder. More groomed.
"I should hope so," I said, flashing him a quick grin of my own. "I'd be very concerned if you knew I was coming."
"You are quite brazen to meet me here alone," Voldemort said, eyes roaming across the landscape before settling on the castle in the darkening valley below. "Do you think being so close to Hogwarts means you're safe?"
I gestured at the frozen flow of rock and then at the crumpled Death Eater.
"I feel safe in my ability to defend myself."
"Yes," Voldemort said, watching me like a snake with a mouse. "So I've heard, although Goyle wasn't much of a challenge to overcome, I'm sure."
I glanced at the crumpled Death Eater, watching his heaving chest.
"What did you even do to him?" I asked, trying to buy more time. I had less than nine minutes. I should be able to bullshit that long.
"I was… displeased when he revealed he had been captured," Voldemort said softly. "Although, when I delved into his memories, I must say, I didn't expect the method in which you did so."
"I try," I said with a shrug, outwardly keeping it cool. Internally, though, I was panicking. I'd thought Voldemort's ego would have him summoning his Death Eaters in for the show. That was the whole reason I'd set all this up.
"You are a conundrum, Carnac Le Fay," Voldemort said slowly. "I didn't think much of you at first, but over time, I've heard some rather intriguing rumors."
"Really?" I said dryly. "Such as?"
"The rumors I've heard of you say you're a descendant of Morgana," Voldemort said, "when I know with certainty that you're a mere half-breed. Those same rumors claim you've killed basilisks and studied the dark arts."
"You need better informants," I said wryly, feeling a cold prickle of fear down my neck.
"Perhaps," Voldemort said. "Now, Le Fay, why did you wish for my presence here?"
"A duel, Tom," I said. "You and me. Here and now."
"Do you really think a year and a half under Dumbledore's tutelage has prepared you for this?" Voldemort asked.
I didn't answer.
Voldemort smiled again coldly, before turning his back on me and sweeping towards the still gasping Death Eater. I took the opportunity to check my watch.
7:53.
"A duel is nothing without an audience," Voldemort said, glancing at me, the cold, cruel smile still plastered across his face. "Let me invite some of my companions to watch."
Slowly, never taking his eyes from me, he lifted up the sleeve of Goyle's robe and pressed a finger into the black tattoo on his forearm, causing the man to scream.
"Once more, I have to commend you, Le Fay," Voldemort said, standing up and beginning to slowly walk towards me. "Your bravery is on par with a Gryffindor's. As is your foolishness."
Around us, hooded, masked figures began to apparate in.
Voldemort kept his eyes on me as they cautiously approached, bowing deeply before him and shooting glances my way.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said once the last of them had paid their respects. "Welcome." Slowly, he turned, surveying the dark-robed pureblood as they formed a loose ring around us. "Tonight, we have a very special guest. Dumbledore's apprentice."
The Death Eaters began to jeer, but Voldemort held up a hand to silence them.
"He believes himself… worthy of challenging me to a duel."
I checked my watch. 7:58. Fuck it!
I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out the chunk of metal I'd picked up earlier. Voldemort faltered, watching me with caution.
"Reparo!" I said, pushing as much power into the fragment of metal as I could, even as I dropped it, leaping into the air.
Fragments of the cauldron zipped forward and the Death Eaters began to scream. I watched as, between each beat of my heart, flashes of iron passed through torsos and legs, punching holes in femurs and knees in sprays of blood.
Not everyone was hit, but there was chaos.
"Bombarda Maxima!" I screamed from above, aiming at Voldemort as he clutched his bloodied side. He redirected the spell with a jerky flick of his wand, just like in the Diagon Alley duel, but this time, there was no barrier to protect the audience.
The screams were drowned out by an explosion as the spell hit a boulder at the edge of the circle of Death Eaters, and chunks of stone were blown out, shredding those unfortunate enough to be in the way.
"Bombarda Maxima!" I cried again before the first of the Death Eaters had even fallen, but this time, Voldemort's redirection flung the spell up and away.
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, and I barely managed to avoid the green streak of light. "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"
I was too exposed, so, I released my power of flight and dropped, landing heavily. I felt something snap in my leg.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed again, standing tall despite the chunk torn out of his side, but I was ready for it, yanking a screaming Death Eater right into the spell's path by his robes.
"Expulso!" someone screamed, and something smashed into my side, I staggered, as another voice called out "Diffindo."
"Exorior Pyraustus!" I screamed as the red spell slashed across my chest and dragon-hide vest. Flames shot out of my blasting rod and the air filled with sparks and the sound of buzzing, as a swarm of wasp-sized draconic insects surged forward, scorching the air as they spilled outwards across the ridge-line.
Another spell clipped my shoulder, defused by my robes in a burst of light, but I ignored it, staring through the burning swarm. Focused on Voldemort.
He stared back at me with a haughty scowl, and with a wave of his wand, the tiny draconic Pyrausta began to disintegrate as the fire went from orange to white as he took control of it.
The flames swirled around us, and the spells from the Death Eaters stopped, as the fire took the shape of a burning snake.
I snarled as it hissed, rearing back, and opening its hood.
In the moment of stillness, before it lunged, I grabbed another item from my pocket and threw it down. The rock and hard-packed soil rippled and changed to mud and swamp slime.
The flaming serpent fell upon me as I dived into the portable swamp, shifting into my animagus form. My back took the brunt, scorched, but I was already digging into the mud, the natural magic of my animagus form taking effect.
Ichneumons were the sworn enemies of dragons after all.
I resurfaced, covered in scales of ceramic, charging through the firestorm as it evaporated the swamp's water, seared away the reeds, and cracked the mud underfoot.
Barging out the conjuration as it collapsed, I shifted back into my human form, my armour cracking, burning my flesh as the magic dissolved.
Before Voldemort could react, I tackled him, ignoring my seared skin and screaming leg. Pressing my knee into his chest, I raised my blasting rod, to stab him or curse him-
Then my watch began to beep and everything went white-
Last edited: May 7, 2022
The ROB's motivation
"Well now… that was interesting."
I was on my feet before I knew it, blasting rod out and pointing at the ROB as he sat calmly at a table, in a beanie and wooly jumper, casually watching me.
"Don't make a scene," he said casually, raising an eyebrow. "I personally don't want to be kicked out before we have a chance to eat."
Looking around, I took in the scene. We were in some sort of pub. Dark wood, faded upholstery and a deer head on the wall all gave the place a rustic feel.
"You alright, Luv?" the muggle lady behind the counter called, leaning against the worn wood. "You need anything?"
"We're fine thanks," the ROB said loudly, before muttering to me to "sit down and stop embarrassing yourself."
Slowly, I took my seat at the table, keeping my gaze firmly on the ROB as he plucked papers from the aether and began to read.
"Where are we?" I finally asked.
"The universe of Arthur's legacy," the ROB said, not looking up. "I found it when I was scouting out the Harry Potter world I put you in. It's a TV series following the descendants of Arthurian heroes as they battle the monster of the week. Written by a squib, if you'd believe it."
"Why are we here?" I asked.
"You know, it gets boring really fast when people keep asking the same old questions every time," the ROB said, glancing over his papers at me. "Try varying it up."
I glared at him and he kept his gaze on me for a long moment before putting down the paper with a sigh.
"We're here for three reasons," he said, clasping his hands together. "A meal, a review, and a bit of motivation. And I do believe that is our meal."
"Here we go," the muggle lady from the counter said. "Toad in the hole for you, and fish and chips. Will there be anything else?"
"No thank you, ma'am," the ROB said with a smile. "I think that will do for now."
"You just give me a call if you need anything," the lady said, glancing between us with a friendly smile. "By the way, love your wizarding outfit. Are you going out trick-or-treating tonight?"
"Um…" I glanced at the ROB, weirded out. I was still wearing my robes and dragon-hide vest, but the fact that a muggle was asking had thrown me off.
"Halloween party later on," the ROB said smoothly.
"Well then, you two enjoy yourselves," the lady said, making her way to the counter.
I stared at the ROB, confused as to what all this was about, even as he began to cut into his meal.
"I hope fish and chips are up to your taste," he said, shooting me a grin. "Hopefully your time in Magical Britain hasn't put you off good muggle food."
"What is even going on?" I demanded. This just wasn't making sense. ROBs were supposed to be monsters! Why was this eldritch abomination being so friendly?
"'Eldritch abomination?' I resent that," the ROB said, taking a bite of gravy-soaked Yorkshire pudding. "And I already told you what we're doing here."
"A review?" I said, exasperated. "What is this?"
"This is me trying to stop you from fucking up so badly in the future," the ROB said. "Now eat up. Once we're done here, we're going for a walk."
The fish and chips tasted bland, with too much batter and not enough fish. I finished first, watching the ROB as he slowly chewed away at the last morsel of his meal with a look of contentment.
"So?" I prompted, once he'd finished.
"So let me pay before we start," the ROB said, standing. "If you want to wait outside, I'll join you in a second."
Outdoors, it was colder. Leaning against the doorframe, I stared out over the village square, watching muggle families as they went from door to door. The place seemed like a typical English village.
It was so bizarre. Just like my first meeting with the ROB, I'd been ripped away from my life. Now, staring at the muggle children as they dashed around, dressed as skeletons and fairies, in the twilight, I felt a profane sense of loss.
"Alrighty then," the ROB said, stepping out of the pub. "Let's go. We have a bit to talk about."
"The review?" I asked, a tad incredulous.
"I need to let you know how to improve somehow," the ROB said with a shrug. "Let's start with the positives. You left the world a better place. You reintroduced moly to wizarding Britain, you helped sustain the alchemical revolution in France by introducing the basilisk to the market, and you managed to wipe out a good chunk of the Death Eaters in your final battle."
"A good chunk?" I asked.
"You wounded most of them," the ROB said, stepping out onto the street and beginning to walk. "Unfortunately, those that could apparate out, did. At least those who stayed died in the fire."
"And Voldemort?" I prompted.
"He got his hands on Nagini," the ROB said casually. "Not that the Horcrux will do him much good. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix have the advantage."
I stared at the ROB, my gut twisting from the feeling of failure.
"All in all, you left the world a better place," the ROB said with a grin. "Let's move on to the things you need to improve on."
We continued walking in silence for a moment. The night was silent beyond the distant chatter of families walking by and the laughter and noise from the houses.
"Firstly," the ROB said finally, glancing at me, "you need to cut out thinking of people as less than you."
"What?" I asked, staring at him in confusion.
"Harry was right, although not quite in the way he meant," the ROB continued. "You need to cut out the 'I'm better than all these muggles' schtick. Tribalism is a part of human nature, but what you have going is more like the start of a god complex."
"God complex," I scoffed, but the ROB only nodded.
"I'll be shunting you over to the world of Percy Jackson next," he said. "I'm telling you that this is an issue now because over there, it'll probably be exacerbated by the demigod views on 'mortals, and once it becomes too much of an issue, the Fates will use your hubris to control you-"
"You could just not send me there," I interrupted. "You could send me to Star Wars or Fullmetal Alchemist or Inkheart."
"No," the ROB said firmly. "You chose Percy Jackson, so that is our deal. Maybe being in a world full of monsters out to get you will help you learn some motivation."
"I'm bloody motivated!" I swore, but the ROB shook his head.
"You aren't. You research and learn and grow in skill, but you never do anything with it. All your opportunities, be it Dumbledore's Apprenticeship or Sirius's Animagus tutorial were things that fell into your lap. Even for your research, you didn't go out and search for it. You used the Room of Requirement, the Hogwarts Library, and the Black Library, sure, but you never sought out knowledge. You only stuck to what was available, never going to Diagon Alley or Place Cachée to search for new spells. Never even chatting with your classmates to find out the secrets of the world you lived in."
"I was motivated!" I stated hotly. "You're forgetting the basilisk, the werewolves. Heck, are you saying I was unmotivated in my fight with Voldemort?"
"You were motivated for the basilisk fight," the ROB acknowledged, "and then you told Dumbledore everything. After that, you sat on your laurels, as if informing Dumbledore was the ultimate objective. The fight with the werewolves was on their terms, and the fight with Voldemort only happened because you had a time limit and because you had Trocar's curse driving you to do it."
"What?" I said, mouth dry.
"The healers didn't fully remove Achilles Glory," the ROB said. "They managed to extract most of it, but it grew back from what they missed like some sort of magical tumour. That is the only reason you were brave enough to face Voldemort. Without it, you would have done nothing."
"Can you remove it?" I asked desperately, and the ROB nodded.
"Already done. Now, you have to drive your own actions. Hopefully, you aren't as suicidal about it as when you were cursed."
I stared at the ROB, slack-jawed, almost stumbling into a mugg… a child in a mockery of witch's robes.
"If you want to gain new powers in the next world, you'll need to seek them out," the ROB continued. "Just waiting for blessings and artefacts to be handed to you in the world of Percy Jackson is an effort in futility. If you want to grow in power, you'll have to bargain with the gods for it."
"I have magic-" I started, but the ROB silenced me with a sharp look.
"Magic is not the end all be all. What about food? What about shelter? What will you do when you attract the attention of the gods with your spellworking?"
I stayed silent, not having a good answer, and the ROB sighed.
"I'll send you off soon. Hopefully, you'll actually take what I've said into account instead of just giving up."
I nodded mutely, staring ahead.
The ROB stopped, and after a few more paces, I halted too, glancing at the building the being was observing with interest.
"You know how I said this world is like a TV series from the world of Harry Potter?"
I nodded.
"The squib who wrote it took inspiration from you."
I stepped beside the ROB to stare at the building. Through the window, I could see a guy who looked almost identical to me.
"Alabaster Swainson," the ROB said. "A descendant of Sir Ywain, one of King Arthur's knights. He's a twist villain. His connection to Morgana Le Fay, Sir Ywain's father, will allow Titania, the main villain, to turn him to the dark side."
"Is that how I'm remembered back home?" I asked. "As a villain?"
"Yes," the ROB said bluntly. "But that's not why I brought you here. Over time, Alabaster will have his redemption arc and will change for the better-"
Someone in the house screamed and the descendant of Ywain turned, rushing away from the window.
"What was that?" I asked cautiously.
"This is a Halloween episode," the ROB said with a shrug. "So that is the monster of the week. A Boggard. It's the reason I brought you to this world."
With a flick of my wrist, my blasting rod was out, and I looked around slowly.
"Why would you do that?"
"You've seen your greatest desire," the ROB said, eyes still fixed on the house. "And that wasn't enough to motivate you. So, perhaps seeing your greatest fear will help drive you."
"You gave me that big speech about my failings just to pull this on me?" I growled.
The ROB didn't answer still watching the house, and I glanced at it, just in time to see a black shape smash through the upstairs window.
"There you are," the ROB said, stepping back as the thing landed on the street before us, broken glass raining down around it. It was humanoid, but its body was wreathed in shadow. It looked around, glowing red eyes latching onto me.
As it stood, the shadow receded. It looked like the hero in the window… no, it looked like me, except something was off.
The doppelganger stepped forward and gave me a cruel grin and I froze, staring at its face. Its eyes were white roiling caldera of fire. It was me, except almighty. A brimming with godlike potential, and yet twisted and changed beyond recognition.
The creature glanced away, and then, slipping back into its shadowy shape, it dashed off into the night, just as a girl with a sword kicked open the door to the house.
"You fear change?" the ROB asked curiously. "I guess that explains why you fought so hard against the werewolves… does that mean that you hated Trocar because he was not quite human? A shell of a man?"
"Fuck!" I gasped, still staring at the empty air. I could still see those eyes. They were like what I imagined nuclear fire would be like.
The ROB watched me curiously, before shrugging.
"Change is inevitable," he said. "But I can see how drastic change is scary to you… tell you what, I was planning on stuffing you into a new form for the world of Percy Jackson, and downloading a new set of memories, but after this, I can see you're probably not up to having your personality altered like that."
I glanced up, wide-eyed.
"How I normally do things is I fabricate a being, life story and all, and superimpose it on the reality, rewriting history so that it doesn't screw up fate. It's a bit like how Dawn Summers was written into the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer… and you're not getting any of this, are you?"
I didn't reply, and the ROB muttered something under his breath.
"Okay then. I've already set it all up, and I'll shunt you over now, but you won't get a new life superimposed onto your existing memories-"
"Are you okay over there!" the girl with the sword called from the doorway.
"We're fine," the ROB called back. "Do try and survive, Carnac. The underworld over there is nice and all, but it doesn't compare to the land of the living."
I let out a shaky breath, and then, the ROB snapped his fingers and the world faded to black.
A whole new world
Opening my eyes, I was immediately confused.
I was in a car, strapped into the passenger seat, but it felt wrong. Looking around, I spotted the broken glass scattered across the roof and immediately figured out what was amiss.
The car was upside down.
"Puck damn it!" I muttered, groaning as I shifted, and the seatbelt dug into my shoulder. Slowly, I reached up, unbuckling it, only to tumble from the seat, wincing at the sting of glass as it cut into my palms.
Crawling out of the car, I stood, grimacing at the cuts and the wave of lightheadedness. I was on a deserted stretch of highway, and looking around, all I could see was carnage.
There were three other cars, black SUVs like the one I'd crawled out of, except all in worse condition. Slowly, I staggered up onto the road and glanced inside the closest, only to grimace at the sight.
The hood was crumpled, the windshield was white from cracks, and sagged inwards, only held in place by the laminate. Inside, the driver and passenger were dead. By the looks on the passenger's face, he'd died in agony. His legs were crushed, although, it seemed like he'd managed to open the door in an attempt to drag himself out. The driver had died on impact, slumped in his seat. The airbag hadn't gone off.
Slowly, I backed away, turning to glance at the vehicle in the middle of the carnage. An eighteen-wheeler truck. It was on its side as well, with a huge hole torn through the trailer, like the Kool-Aid man had punched his way out.
Shaking my head, I turned away from the wreckage. I was in shock. That much was obvious. I was also thinking strangely. I'd been in the wizarding world for five years… how in Puck's name did I even remember about laminate and the Kool-Aid man?
Stretching out my hands, I wordlessly dispelled the glass from the wounds. At least my magic still worked, although, I needed something to help with the bleeding.
Pulling off the black suit I was wearing, I dully noted the golden armour underneath, even as I tore off the sleeve of my white dress shirt underneath, wrapping swaths of the material, around my bleeding hands. That done, I tossed the bloody black suit to the side and took stock of my situation again, still in disbelief.
Last time, I'd been dumped into the world during the Hogwarts sorting ceremony. A place that was familiar to me from the Harry Potter books. Looking out once more over the four mangled SUVs, the tipped truck, and the surrounding fields, I felt lost.
What now?
"Puck damn it all!" I muttered again, glancing down at my swathed hands. It was then I noticed the mark on my left forearm.
It was small, about the size of a coin. A triangle.
I stared at it, confused.
In this world, the Roman demigods get marked on their forearms, but they get branded with an SPQR tattoo, not triangles. The only triangles I could think of for the Percy Jackson series were the Delta symbols, used as the logo for Daedalus the inventor… but in the books, they weren't on people's arms.
Curious, I walked back over to the open door and the dead man in the passenger seat, reaching into the car to pull his left arm over, idly noting the briefcase handcuffed to it.
Rolling up his sleeve, I saw he had the mark as well.
What in Puck's name?
As I stepped away from the car, I had so many questions. What had happened here? Who were these people? What did the mark mean?
Turning around, I glanced at the scenery, ignoring the smell of the corpse behind me.
The road was deserted, surrounded by fields and trees. It probably wouldn't be long before the police, or whomever this gig belonged to, showed up…
Shaking my head again, I turned back to the crumpled SUV, looking at the dead guy for the third time. The suitcase handcuffed to his wrist probably had something important in it, and I didn't have the luxury of being picky.
Sighing, I pulled at the guy's suit, hauling him as far out of the car as I could, before straightening his rigored arm to bring the suitcase onto the tarmac. Wordlessly, I flicked the lock, and with a burst of magic, it clicked open.
Inside, nestled in a foam casing, was a tiny silver flashlight. The sort of thing you'd see attached to a keychain.
I pocketed it quickly, snapping shut the case and glancing around. I'd have a chance to figure out what it was later. For now, it'd probably be a good idea to clear out-
The bellowed roar was the only warning I had. On instinct, I shot up into the air, as metal shrieked and rubber skidded across tarmac.
I glanced down to see a beast, a mass of grey flesh, as it flicked its head, sending the crushed SUV flying off the road before it glanced up at me with dark eyes.
It was massive, easily twice as large as an elephant, with a horselike head, and three black spikes jutting from its forehead.
It bellowed, eyeing me angrily as it stamped its feet.
I watched it, floating high above. This was probably the thing that'd escaped the truck.
The monster bellowed again, pawing the ground, and kicking up chunks of tarmac as it watched me.
I sighed. It couldn't get me, but I couldn't just leave. The thing would likely go on a rampage, and I didn't want to be responsible for the deaths it would cause.
"Puck damn it!" I muttered.
I didn't know where my wand was. The ROB had said I'd be able to bring items with me. At least I still had my magic.
"Bombarda!" I said, and instantly, light flew from my outstretched hand, glancing off the beast's back and cratering the road next to it in an ear-ringing explosion.
Grimacing, I tried again.
"Diffindo!"
The cutting jinx flowed around the monster like oil on water, gashes forming in the road on either side of it, even as it snorted in rage.
"Puck damned bastard!" I swore. It was like the werewolves all over again. "Igneus Labus!"
The tarmac blackened and bubbled, and a thick cloud of black smoke blossomed, swallowing the beast whole and rising up to meet me. I glided back, away from it, even as, with a choked bellowing, the monster charged out of the smoke.
Gritting my teeth, I watched as it snorted and sneezed, pawing up clods of earth in the field next to the road, as it watched me balefully.
Teeth bared, I pulled out the silver flashlight. In this world, monsters could only be killed with a few rare metals, and often, the weapons were disguised as common items. I'd hoped to examine what this was in private, but if I wanted to finish this thing, I didn't really have a choice.
As soon as I clicked the flashlight on, a beam of silver sprung forth, coalescing into a lance.
I stared at the weapon incredulously for half a second, before turning to grin at the monster.
Fuck it!
The three-horned beast bellowed again, as I released my hold over flight and dropped like a stone, lance levelled at its exposed back.
I struck. The tip sunk deep into its flesh, and with a final keening roar, the three-horned monster exploded into a shower of golden dust.
I pulled up, grinning. My magic didn't work on these fuckers, but that just meant I had to play it smart, and with my new toy, and the ultimate high ground, I'd manage.
Now, I needed to get gone before whoever was transporting the beast and the silver spear decided to check on their convoy.
Last edited: May 7, 2022
Skiritae and Emperors
Sitting in a Dennys, just east of Zanesville, Ohio, I glared at the silver lance on the table before me as I ran my wand across it, trying to figure out what was going on with my magic.
People were giving me a wide berth, probably because of my ripped sleeve and bloodstained hands, but I didn't care. I had enough frustration trying to figure out how the bloody lance worked, without dealing with muggl… regular people.
Gritting my teeth, I cast another analysis charm, only for it to come back with nonsensical results. It seemed my magic and the Greek magic just didn't mix.
It was starting to annoy me that nearly all my jinxes and curses were now useless.
Glancing down at the mark on my forearm, I grimaced. And I had to worry about whatever the cult I worked for as well. Great.
There were several options open to me now.
I could go north, to Alaska. It was a land beyond the influence of the Olympians, so it'd allow me to avoid their attention. Unfortunately, it was still infested with monsters.
I could go to Boston. It was the heart of the Norse pantheon's power. The problem with that is that I wasn't nearly as familiar with Norse mythology as I was with Greek myths, so I'd likely be blindsided by the first monster I encountered.
I could try and get in touch with the House of Life. They involved themselves in Egyptian magic and hunted down rogue gods from their pantheon. I didn't find that prospect appealing. I didn't know enough about them to know how they interacted with the followers of other gods, and for all I knew, they'd lock me up for being an agent of a foreign pantheon. It was unlikely, but I wasn't going to risk it.
Going to Camp Jupiter was appealing. It had an entire city of people, and legions of Roman demigods to defend it. Unfortunately, it was on the other side of the country, in Oakland, California. It was tempting, but I didn't have any ID, money, or experience in fighting the local monsters. I couldn't risk the trek. Not yet at least.
That only really left Camp Half-Blood. It was close. It'd get me trained up and prepare me to survive, and, most importantly, it was a major location in the first few books in the Percy Jackson series. There, I'd be able to keep an eye on things.
Mind set, I hastily stashed my wand in my bag of tricks, pocketing it quickly. As I stood, I glanced around the diner and froze.
In a booth near the door was a monster.
It was humanoid, and looked more like Voldemort than Voldemort had looked in my final battle with him. He was pale, bald, with slits in place of nostrils.
As I stepped out from the table, he stood as well, nodding to the waitress and turning to face me.
"How's it going?" I asked. Probably not a good idea to engage with such an obvious monster, but in the Percy Jackson series, a lot of them were happy to monologue. It'd buy me time if snake-face was a fan of exposition dumps.
"It is going well," snake-face said in a dry, raspy voice. "I am glad to see you survived the carnage, Mr. Walker. And you've retrieved the lance of Olyndicus as well. The Emperor shall be pleased."
I froze, as snake-face stepped up next to me, holding open the door.
"After you, Mr. Walker."
Stepping out into the carpark, snake-face walked towards yet another black SUV and I stood, watching him.
The Emperor. I worked for the Emperor.
Mouth dry, I stepped away from the door as muggle diners pushed their way out. There were three characters I knew of that had that title. Three villains.
"How long have you been working for the Triumvirate," I asked cautiously. It was an unsubtle attempt to probe for information, but I needed answers.
"Many years," snake-face said, glancing at me curiously as he unlocked the car. "My tribe have been working for them since the days of the British Empire."
"Tribe?" I inquired, mouth dry. I was working for the Triumvirate. Three evil emperors who'd be supporting the enemies of the gods in a bid for conquest of America.
"It's not often you demigods ask," snake-face said, sounding pleasantly chuffed. "The Emperor employed us during the conquest of India. We Skiritae have served him loyally ever since."
"I see," I said slowly. I had no idea what the Skiritae even were, but the fact that the Triumvirate had existed since the days of the British Empire was what really concerned me.
"Could you please put the lance in the trunk?" the Skiritae requested, popping it open. "I have a first aid kit to sort out your hands."
"Thanks," I said slowly, not moving at all. I needed to leave.
"Did you end up using the Greek Firebombs on the Odontotyrannos?" the Skiritae asked as he rummaged in the glovebox. "I heard the entire road was left a smouldering wreck."
I didn't answer. Breathing in, I stepped forward and thrust the spear into the Skiritae's back. It collapsed into golden dust, letting the first aid kit fall to the floor of the vehicle.
Inside the diner, someone screamed, and I glanced up to see a waitress staring white-faced at me, while patrons stood hastily, stepping away from their window seats.
I grimaced, but ignored them, turning and wordlessly summoning the first aid kit before shooting into the air.
I was an ex-member of Triumverate Holdings, which meant that, by deserting, I had immortal Roman emperors with delusions of grandeur after my head. I needed to get to safety.
Quickly.
Men in black
Standing in a 7-Eleven bathroom, I leaned against the bathroom counter, stinging hands gripped on the edge of the basin as I stared my reflection in the eye.
I was older now, around the age I had been when the ROB had first grabbed me. It was strange, although not exactly unwelcome. At least I wouldn't have to worry about people underestimating me because of my age now.
A spike of pain drew my attention back to my white-knuckled hands. The cuts were mostly gone now, thanks to a granola bar containing ambrosia, but they still weren't quite back to normal.
Flexing my fingers again, I watched as the lacerations slowly closed. Ambrosia was the food of the gods, and if I'd been mortal, I'd have burst into flame upon eating it. Even with the knowledge that I was the child of a deity, I was still surprised at how quickly I was recovering.
I glared at my hands and the closing cuts. After being around Harry Potter magic for five years, this shouldn't have been so fascinating. Yet I was still unnaturally intrigued. Shaking my head, I put it down to the ROB screwing with me, even as I turned towards the door. I needed to get moving.
The teller gave me a nervous look as I strode through the store and out into the dark carpark, but I ignored them, blearily rubbing my eyes as I glanced at the light-polluted sky above. I'd been traveling all day, and I was beyond exhausted. But I was also so close to my destination.
"Oy!"
I glanced back at the speaker. A man in a black suit, flanked by two identically dressed spooks.
"You Hal Walker?" the man demanded, stopping beneath a streetlamp.
Wearily, I pulled out the silver flashlight. They had to be more monsters sent by the Triumvirate. Holding back another yawn, I squared off against them, preparing for the fight. I was too tired for this shit… but at least I now knew the full name of the ROB's fabrication.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "Who're you lot?"
"The Emperor has asked us to escort you to New York," the head spook said, ignoring my question.
I nodded slowly. Triumvirate Holdings was run by three emperors. Caligula in the west, an emperor with a Hercules fetish (whose name I couldn't remember) in Kansas or Oklahoma or one of the flyover states, and Nero in New York.
Nero, the guy who burned Christians. He wanted to see me.
Slowly nodding again, I glanced up. It'd be easy enough to leave, but I needed more info than I had. I knew the Emperors were Jeff Bezos level rich, that they financed Cronus when he attempted to overthrow the Greek gods, and that they were working with Apollo's enemy, the Python, but there were still gaps in my knowledge. I hadn't finished the Trials of Apollo series, where they were the main antagonists, so I didn't know how they were brought down. I needed to learn more.
Hopefully, these spooks were the monologuing type. It worked on the Skiritae after all.
"If you'd just follow us, please," the guy said, gesturing towards the dark street beyond the carpark.
"What does Nero want with me?" I queried, stepping forward, even as I prepared to switch on the flashlight.
"I don't know," the man said with a shrug. "We were just dispatched 'cause we were closest."
"What tribe are you?" I asked. As far as I knew, the Emperors employed mythical tribes, like the Skiratae, Germani, Blemmyae, and Pandai. If I figured out who this lot were, I'd have more success in taking them out.
"Tribe?" the spook asked. "What…?"
"Probably the supernatural shit," one of the other men in black said. "You a demigod?"
"Wait… you aren't monsters of demigods?" I queried. This wasn't good. There was some degree of separation between the regular world and the world of monsters and heroes and gods. The fact that these muggle goons were in on it…
"This is going nowhere," the third goon commented. "The Emperor doesn't like to be kept waiting!"
I grimaced. I wasn't going to get answers here, and I sure as hell wasn't going to throw myself back into the triumvirate's clutches.
"Let's move," the head spook said firmly, but I ignored him, slowly backing away.
I needed to get out of here.
"Walker," spook two said, watching me as he flicked his jacket aside to reveal a gun. "I wouldn't-"
In an instant I lunged, jamming the silver flashlight under his jaw and flicking it on. The silver lance flashed through the top of his skull, and he gasped, stepping back, the lance shimmering through his head as if it wasn't even there.
"The fuck!"
"Put down the spear!" the head goon yelled, as guns were levelled at my chest. "Put it down!"
I stared at the lance for a second, mind whirring. The lance was a magic weapon. Magic weapons didn't work on regular people… I'd forgotten!
"Protego!"
Shots rang out as the shield spell flashed into existence. I stared in shock as bullets crumpled against it, tinkering against the tarmac. The goons stared at me wide-eyed, and I grimaced.
Too close. Far too close.
"Expelliarmus!" I said, and the guns were snatched out of their grips and flung off across the carpark. "Vestio anima."
"What the fuck!" goon number one screamed as his black suit began to move on its own accord.
"Incarcerous!" I intoned, and ropes shot out of my fingers, wrapping around the two remaining goons, leaving them to collapse to the tarmac in squirming bundles.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" the head spook screamed, fighting against his suit to glance at his teammates as they began to scream and cuss.
'That was too easy,' was my first thought. My second was the fact that this fucker was screaming for Christ when his boss was known for turning Christians into burning corpses.
"What the fuck are you!" the goon screamed as his suite slammed him into the ground. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck!"
Shaking my head ruefully at the easy takedown, I stepped forward and wordlessly fired off three stunners to knock out the goons.
Standing there, in the now-silent carpark, I couldn't help but shake my head again.
After so many fights for my life, It was bloody weird to have an easy takedown… and now I've jinxed myself. Great.
With one final glance at the three unconscious goons and the still-flailing suit, I shot up, once more, into the night.
I needed to get to Camp Half-Blood before I killed myself by tempting fate.