Prompts:
1.[dialogue] "Me, a princess?"
2.[character] Marcus Flint
3.[emotion] cheery
A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw (canon from one of the games) meet under the most unusual circumstances, yes? Yes.
They find themselves with a choice. What choice?
Read and see.
Did you like that rhyme? I'm a rhyming master.
If you didn't like that rhyme, well, who's the Poet Lord here? Huh? Huh?
You, or me?
That's what I thought…
Now read our story.
Trigger warnings: death, strangling…and wonder.
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After graduating from Hogwarts, Marcus had a difficult time figuring out what he wanted to do. He had plenty of opportunities offered by his family's connections, but it stung to get work because his father asked someone to grant it. It felt insulting, like the enemy team was treating him like a child, going easy on him. If Marcus wanted something not worth the effort, he would talk to Malfoy!
Without a challenge, there was no fun, no enjoyment to be had. So, he tried his hand at history. History was a challenge. Everyone knows that.
He was somewhat interested in the ancient times, but nothing of the sort that Binns tried to teach. He was drawn toward the peculiar.
His family was happy with whatever he chose but rejoiced when he finally decided to join Quidditch instead of some vague history career.
Two years of fast-paced action passed in the blink of an eye. He was proud to be called one of his team's best players.
Things didn't always turn out the way you thought it would, though.
He was forced to take a "break" of sorts from Quidditch after he lost his temper in an official match and broke a beater's bat that he snatched from a teammate over an opponent's head.
To escape the political backlash he unintentionally caused, his family sent him across the world, hoping he would refocus on that mysterious history he was once interested in.
He considered himself fortunate to be out of the country when the Dark Lord publicly returned in the middle of the Ministry of Magic!
His family kept pestering him with letters demanding that he return as quickly as possible to help in the coming war.
Feeling like he had no other option, Marcus rushed his expeditions so he could finish his work and return home to fight for the Dark Lord.
But that all changed one day.
The Slytherin explorer was on his carpet, flying over Greenland toward a recently uncovered dig. Marcus was almost to the ruin when he noticed a group of American wizards on broom with, surprisingly enough, someone he recognized.
A Ravenclaw girl who was a year below him when he was still in Hogwarts. A girl named Elspeth.
She was always very timid and he was one of her many constant tormentors. The reason? Because her pureblood father married a muggle.
And so, she paid for her father's choice.
What is she doing here? Marcus wondered. Why is she with a bunch of foreigners?
Curious, he flew over to the closely grouped wizards, and observed them silently.
Six men were flying with a large crate being carried between them. Off to the left, Elspeth and an unknown woman argued over a large map that she was holding open.
Marcus frowned. They were the perfect example of irresponsible broom-riding. Who knows when a low or high-flying bird could smack into them? Rule number 43 of flying, never obscure your vision while in motion.
This was a lesson taught to first-years for crying out loud! And were the knots on the ropes holding up that crate loose?
Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, reminding himself. Rule number 17. No rolling your eyes. Always focus on where you're flying.
He spent much time as the Slytherin Quidditch captain hammering those rules into the heads of his frustratingly lazy players.
With a disgusted noise, Marcus drifted apart from them.
As he did, Elspeth narrowed her eyes at the departing flier.
What are you doing here, Flint? She thought. You're not supposed to be here. No one is.
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As they descended to the field far below, Marcus waited for them to land.
"What are you doing here?" he called.
Elspeth smirked slightly as her team ignored him, getting to the site and setting up camp.
Flint threw up his hands in exasperation.
"We have official government documents permitting our observation team to be here," Elspeth said, waving her wand, erecting her tent.
Behind her, a crack resounded as two burly wizards opened the crate with their wands.
"No!" she yelled at them. "Don't let HIM see it! He's a stranger!"
But it was too late, the crate's walls fell apart and Marcus saw a spherical mass of bronze parts. This particular mess was one he recognized.
"Is that…an Astrolabe?" Marcus asked dumbfounded. "Why do you need a device that detects the largest sources of nearby magic?"
Elspeth glared at her team members and made a motion across her lips with her fingers, telling them to zip it.
"That's none of your business," she told him. "I've worked too hard to lose this discovery to a Slytherin, so BACK OFF!"
Marcus frowned. So, she recognized him.
"Fine," he sniffed with disdain. "But I will be back, this is my campsite too, you're not the only one with the government's permission to be here."
Elspeth scowled as he jumped atop his carpet and rose into the air.
Stew on that! He thought as he left.
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As Marcus flew, his thoughts wandered back to what was happening in his country of birth.
The Dark Lord has finally revealed himself. The one behind Mum and Dad's devotion. I wonder what he's like. Is he as great as they keep telling me he is? He doesn't sound great, didn't he try killing Potter again? What was that all about anyway? Do I really have to go back? Why can't I just stay and continue my work?
He flew on, through clouds, flocks of birds, and high-flying insects.
Stupid bugs, he thought, another one splitting him in the face.
I knew the windshield spell that the merchant sold me was faulty!
Marcus looked around. He was surrounded by dense, foreboding black clouds.
Wait, where…am….I?
A rumble tore below the carpet that shook him to his bones.
He screamed as the carpet suddenly went dead.
He was falling, the carpet wrapped around him from the wind and he became trapped. The air rushed past him as he fell, flailing his limbs to free himself from the carpet that would be his tomb.
He tried getting to his wand, maybe he could summon his broom before he hit the ground.
Depulso! He thought, too panicked t say the words. The carpet swept away from him and he saw green grass rushing at his face.
His eyes widened and everything went black.
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"WATCH OUT!" Elspeth screamed, as another harpy dove for one of her team members.
"They're EVERYWHERE!" he screamed in return even as the harpy ripped into his back, tearing him off his broom.
Her fellow map reader cursed in Mandarin as she dodged around the harpies.
Elspeth saved her voice, she would need to concentrate on keeping herself alive for now.
Another man screamed, was that Jimmy? as his broom was torn into wood chips by three harpies.
"I see it!" an Irish man she knew as Toto shouted.
She looked at him, diving to avoid harpy claws.
"That's the ground!" Someone shouted from out of sight.
"No," he replied." Look at where I am pointing!"
As he said this, he shot forward, toward where he claimed to see it. He moved almost twenty before his broom stopped hovering and he plummeted like a stone.
Elspeth heard a feminine scream as the only other woman on the team was finally caught by the winged monsters.
The remaining three living members of her team, three men from Bosnia, disapparated, one grabbing the falling Irishman, Toto, before disappearing.
She would have to finish this on her own it seemed.
Ravenclaw mind working at Mach speed, she angled up, nearly vertically, and rose swiftly.
If I can get enough air before the broom fails, my momentum can take me there in time if I angle it just right! She could very nearly see the silhouette of her goal obscured though it was within the clouds.
She reached the ideal height in seconds.
Elspeth used a free hand to check the stretchiness of her cloak, to see if it would catch wind readily.
A few more mental calculations and she was ready. She began her dive.
As she plunged, Elspeth took one hand off her broom to shakily adjust her goggles. Seeing her off balance, the harpies flew to attack, clawing at her robes as they billowed in the wind.
The broom failed, immediately losing altitude control, so she released it and held out the edges of her robes. Her chances of survival drastically increased if she could catch some air and slow her fall.
Hearing the sound of fabric flapping in the wind, Elspeth turned to see that one side was torn to ribbons!
I'm off course! She realized. One working side and one failing side only made her turn, so she wrapped the remains tightly around her and decided to pray.
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Her prayers were answered.
She slammed headfirst into a harpy and flung her arms around it on instinct. The bird monster shrieked at the unfortunate girl but couldn't reach her with its claws or beak.
"Confundo!" she gasped, pulling her wand from her sleeve.
The harpy turned away from her and flew into the dark clouds.
Her goggles fogged up and she was forced to wait for the creature to land.
Eventually, the harpy did exactly that. It stopped on a large rock and she slid off its back, onto surprisingly dry grass before kicking away from it.
The harpy ignored her, screeching randomly at something above it, and flying away.
Elspeth sighed, relaxing for the first time in hours.
She lay back and rested her head against the ground, closing her eyes.
What's that smell? She wondered, sniffing the air, it's nice. Like sandalwood mixed with fresh parchment.
She turned her head to the side, so her cheek lay against the sharp grass. She breathed in again and opened her eyes.
Marcus Flint's face was an inch from hers.
"AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
His eyes shot open, dark gray eyes like storm clouds looked into hers and he screamed back.
"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!" he replied smartly.
She punched him, aiming for the nose.
He blocked it partially with his arm, raising it just in time to smack himself in the face. Better than her punching him for sure, but not pleasant.
But that didn't really matter as he was beginning to slide.
"AAGGGGGGGHHH!" he shouted, scrambling for a grip as his legs kicked the open air beneath him.
"HELP!" he demanded.
Elspeth shot forward grabbing him by the arms and pulling as hard as she could.
"HELP BETTER!" he repeated.
"I AM HELPING!" she snapped. " I'M A SCHOLAR NOT A BEATER!"
Eventually, she got him to his feet and they dashed away from the edge that looked over miles and miles of open air.
"WHERE AM I!?" Marcus yelled to no one in particular.
"How did you get here!?" Elspeth asked in reply.
"I don't know!" he said defensively. "I fell! My carpet stopped working."
She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something before shutting it again, settling with a disbelieving shake of her head.
Marcus looked around and picked up his carpet. He rolled it up and looked as if he was considering throwing it off the edge. Deciding against it, he spelled the rolled-up carpet shut and tied it to his back.
"Alright princess," he said. "you got an idea to get us back to land?"
"Me, a princess?" she asked in contempt.
"Yeah, look at you," Marcus said, gesturing with his hand. "You look just fine despite your probable fall, and I didn't see you lugging any heavy equipment earlier."
"Well, I'll have you know-" she stopped and spoke in a breathy, almost panicked voice. "Merlin! We're on the floating island!"
Indeed they were.
They stood on short grass, on a chunk of earth that was flying hundreds of miles in the sky. The entire island was half a mile in diameter, and in the center of it, a classic, red-and-white painted windmill stood, thirty feet tall and strong, its blades lazily revolving in the soft breeze.
"What is this place?" Marcus asked distractedly.
"The windmill island," Elspeth grinned. "Mother and father funded all my expeditions to find this place."
"See?" Marcus said. "Princess."
"Shut it!" she snapped. "Do you have any idea how important this place is?"
Marcus shook his head. "Not remotely."
She scowled at him. "This island was created by an ancient sect of wizards. For what purpose, we don't know. All of the information we know about it came from a set of ruins that were destroyed by powerful earthquakes. I believe it was in Turkey."
She breathed in and out. "But that doesn't matter. I now have all the time in the world to study this island. We believe it only rises a few inches every few decades."
"There's no door on this lighthouse!" he called from the windmill.
She gritted her teeth and corrected him as she sprinted in his direction. "That's a WINDMILL!"
"Who cares?" he drawled. "It looked like a lighthouse."
Scowling, Elspeth reached him, breathing hard from the exertion. "One. No, it doesn't. Two, how would you know what a lighthouse looks like? It's a muggle invention, you're a Slytherin."
He frowned. "I know what a lighthouse is. Wizards use them too. For travelers flying over the ocean."
He had her there.
"Well-"
"What? You never had the lack of gallons for an international portkey, and were forced to fly over the sea where you had to dodge lightning and muggle warships shooting at you!?" he said sarcastically.
She was quiet for a second before replying, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. "No."
"Princess."
"I AM NOT-"
"Hey guys, wassup?"
They pivoted simultaneously toward the voice. It came from a stranger who had just rounded the windmill.
He had black bangs that covered the upper half of his face and flashed purple at the right angle. His pale skin looked as if he hadn't seen the sun for a while, and his skinny arms had large hands that loosely grasped the neck of an old guitar. He had a shockingly deep, gravely voice for someone who was four foot nothing. Despite his size, he looked to be around their age.
They looked at him, speechless as his smile grew wider.
"Say…are you two…?" he asked, crossing two fingers.
Elspeth gagged and Marcus took on a look of horror.
"MERLIN, no!" They replied at the same time.
As Marcus turned toward her, his face turning even more horrified, she sprinted to the edge of the island and puked off the side.
"Ohhh," the stranger said happily. "It's like that. I see how it is."
"I don't like whatever implication you're making," Marcus said.
"You two use to know each other, right?" the stranger asked.
Marcus nodded begrudgingly.
Continuing, he said. "You two barely know and tolerate each other but now you've been forced to work together to mutually escape a danger that you stumbled into."
"What do you mean danger?" Elspeth asked, wiping her mouth as she rejoined the conversation.
"You're stuck here, ain'tcha?" he asked, more happy than he had any right to be.
His smile was beginning to fray at Marcus's nerves.
Elspeth laughed. "That isn't any kind of danger. Do you have any idea how long I've been working to find this island?"
"Isle," the stranger corrected casually.
"Yeah," Marcus scoffed. "Princess chose to be here."
"Don't disparage her choice," the unknown man declared. "our choices define us."
Marcus opened his mouth to disagree with the statement, but the short fellow continued cheerily.
"Everyone has a choice. You might lean one way or another. It may be because you were raised like that, or friends push you, or it might just be your temperament. But, even after all that, everything you do is your choice."
Elspeth smiled at his words while Marcus frowned.
"Never disregard someone's choice," the little guy warned. "you never know why they might be making it."
The Slytherin clenched his fists.
"Hey now," the diminutive dude said merrily. "why don't you tell me what's on your mind? I can tell something is bothering you."
Marcus ended up shouting his response. "I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE! Not like princess here does. I have to go back to England. I am expected to help with the war. I don't have a choice!"
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Elspeth.
"I AM NOT A PRINCESS!" she shouted. Then, calming down, she added. "But I understand what you mean, although I disagree. You do have a choice. They can pressure you, say whatever they want, but what you do is your decision."
Marcus looked at her, indecision apparent across his face. Maybe, she's right. Maybe I do have a choice.
"The harpies will be back in, like, five minutes," the small man said, a little too heartily.
"Let's get out of here," Marcus said, mind made, a grin breaking out on his lips.
Elspeth returned the smile and spoke up. "Do you reckon the carpet will start working once we get far enough from the island?"
"Isle," the stranger corrected, flashing his pearly whites.
"You read my mind," Marcus nodded.
The future looked just a little brighter.
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Thousands of years later:
The windmill island peeked out of the atmosphere, exiting the planet for the very first time.
As it crested the waves of visible gasses, a current from the exosphere pushed it farther out until it sat comfortably a few hundred yards above the outermost layer of the planet.
Tallos, for that was his name, set his guitar gently on the ground.
He stretched, hearing loud pops from his joints.
He looked at the guitar, old and worn.
"I hope the next person plays you well," He said.
The instrument vanished.
Without looking back, he entered the windmill through the door that was now there.
Inside, maps, books, and hundreds of papers lined the walls and tables. Tallos ran his finger over the name scrawled across the journal laying open on the center desk.
Daedalus.
"To the second, father," he said. "you were right. To the very second."
At that moment, a comet the size of Great Britain smashed into the island, obliterating both completely.
As it was intended to do from the very beginning.
And, far below, wizards and muggles lived together in harmony.
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Authors' notes:
Why we wrote this for the prompt:
F: Because the animation had an island so we had an island.
C: there's more to it than that!
F: yeah?
C: there's a windmill on it too! It's powered by the windmill, it's a really cool idea.
F: is that it? There's…there's nothing else?
C: yeah pretty much. We also have the kid with the guitar.
F: if we had more words-
C: we might have put a tuba in there as well.
F: stop interrupting me.
C: make me
strangling noises*
C: okay then
F: I meant if we had more words, we could have added a more aura of wonder and mystery like we were going for.