Dissindere Temporalis
So we're back! I finished the meat of this chapter last week but it needed more refining and polishing.
This chapter is the beginning of the next arc in the story, the beginning of a number of things. This is also where the story may start to diverge.
We will still see the group together, but during this arc we will also be seeing a number of chapters where a smaller group begin their own projects.
This is daunting because so often with that sort of thing, people get frustrated because they don't like one storyline over the other. I hope to avoid that...
Also
PAIRINGS
They are UNDECIDED, although I do have people clamouring for things. You are also welcome to clamour for things.
However this will NOT be Harry and Tom. They are platonic soul mates. In the best of ways. You'll see.
So please enjoy!
Praevaricator Catenae
"The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it."
- Thomas S. Monson
"Whatever worked in the past, build on it; whatever didn't work in the past, break the chain that binds you to it."
- Marianne Williamson
Thankfully life at Hogwarts settled down in the wake of Tom's final confrontation with Walburga.
The Slytherin girl was officially in disgrace. Her underhanded actions, coupled with her failure, and Tom's revelation of his bloodline had completely shredded any support she may have had.
For now at least.
Her Family name shielded her from a lot of the repercussions, as the Blacks couldn't allow one of their own to be completely ruined. There were too many still in all the Years at Hogwarts. So she survived, socially.
Artemisia Parkinson wasn't so lucky, lacking the same social collateral as her mistress, and seemed to have a perpetual pout for weeks after the whole affair.
Abandoned.
Tom's star meanwhile, was in the ascendancy.
It seemed that the whole of Slytherin was now on board with his rise towards greatness, even if most of them were attempting to ride on his coattails. His discovered ancient and venerable bloodline meant that his actions were given more latitude, even if people muttered about his continuing to hang out with 'the wrong sorts'.
Abraxas had felt a small measure of satisfaction when even Rexton seemed to bend a little in regards to Tom. Yes he wasn't a purebred Gaunt… but the name allowed him some credibility. And gave Abraxas more leeway to enjoy his friends.
Even if he knew that Rex would never look at Tom as anything more than a talented mutt. A continuation of a bloodline yes, but never worthy of the same respect as he. Never mind that Tom was ten times the wizard that Lestrange was.
The boy in question was ignoring all of the attention, and if anything his nonchalance and confidence was inspiring even more hero worship, in Slytherin and the other houses. He was powerful, talented, ridiculously handsome and descended from one of the most famous wizards in magical history, even if Slytherin were the only ones to know that last fact.
His friends were amused, but there was also a quiet sense of pride in the group.
They had won.
And now one of their own was rising in the ranks of the students to watch. Tom had made it clear that they were favoured, his inner circle, and that had elevated all of their status' too, even Kara's.
Although it had made Abraxas' blood boil when one of the Slytherin Seventh Years had muttered that either she must be an exceptional Mudblood… or that she provided a quality service in other ways.
Abraxas still wasn't sure how he felt about the Muggleborn issue, but he knew one thing. Kara wasn't anything like what they said Mudbloods were like. She was talented, brave… determined.
They all were.
They had won against their foe, had fought for themselves and each other.
And now they could reap the benefits.
The next month and a half was peaceful, a time to concentrate on their studies and enjoy their time at Hogwarts without fear of retribution.
Tom threw himself into his pet project, determined to unravel the concept of Ancient and Olde magic. He was drawn to it, fascinated by the loss of something so deep, and once so ingrained, in magical culture.
It was something that Abraxas was actually interested in as well. The Malfoys had kept alive a lot of older traditions, but hearing the tales of how they had come to be, or how they'd once been only a small part of a larger tradition was humbling and startling.
Tom had also taken up researching his famous ancestor, and with it the other Founders. His curiosity about the four men and women who had built the place he now called home, tied into the obsession for Ancient magic, as the two topics were intricately twined together.
All Hallows Eve soon loomed, heralding the slow slide of autumn into winter. Dumbledore was proudly endorsing it as Halloween, complete with carved pumpkins and playful pranks. Which would have been fine, but more and more with each year that went by, Dumbledore seemed more influenced by the Muggle traditions for the Holiday than the magical ones.
This year, instead of staying at the castle for the Feast, they had all been invited to Hawthorne Hall, Tierra's childhood home. Tierra's parents lived in Ireland, and had a small estate in a deep valley surrounded by hills. The estate itself was on the shores of the lake, with thick rich forest filling the rest of the hollow, and the whole place was warded, protected from detection from Muggles.
As such the forest was a haven for magical creatures of all types.
It had always been one of Abraxas' favourite places to visit when he was younger, even if his father and mother hadn't been entirely sure they wanted their son, their pride and joy, to associate with the young girl who lived there.
Her mother's Bloodline was impeccable. But she had chosen to marry for love, not advantage, and marry a man whose lineage was far less exalted.
While it still wasn't as bad as marrying a Muggle, Merlin forbid, it still wasn't an example that they wanted their sons and daughters to emulate.
Still, Abraxas had visited the place on occasion, and loved it each time.
It wasn't as large, or as grand, as Malfoy Manor, nor did it have the ostentatious feel of many Pure-blood residences. Instead it felt like a home, warm and inviting and full of laughter.
Mr Hawthorne was a kind man, always with a ready smile, and you could see a great deal of his daughter in his face. He had the air of an unashamed Hufflepuff, unembarrassed to indulge his daughter and romp with all the children as they played. Abraxas could never imagine his own father playing the same games, and while some of the Pure-blooded children had sneered at the display, he'd felt a quiet sense of longing.
He'd also noticed that the children who had looked down their nose at Mr Hawthorne, quietly stopped being invited.
He strongly suspected it was the doing of Mrs Hawthorne.
Where her husband was all ease, friendliness and unabashed affection, his wife was a true Slytherin. And that came with a ruthless protectiveness of the ones she called hers.
She was quite beautiful, with the same green blue eyes as her daughter, and the same dark blonde hair too. She was elegant and refined when she needed to be, but it took very little coaxing from her husband for her to laugh and smile, relaxing into him.
They were a pair very much in love.
A part of Abraxas wished he could have that too, even if he knew his parents would be appalled to hear him think it.
His duty was to marry a good Pureblooded girl. Personal attachment wasn't a priority.
So he wasn't at all unhappy at the thought of spending Friday 31 October with the Hawthornes and his friends, especially when it meant they would stay there the weekend too.
He wondered how the others would enjoy a traditional All Hallows Eve.
Hawthorne Hall was as nice as he remembered it.
They arrived in the afternoon of the Friday by Floo, which they'd taken from the grate in Professor Merrythought's office.
"Hello Mrs Hawthorne," he greeted Tierra's mother after he'd stepped through, brushing some ash from his head and bowing over her hand, conscious, as always, of his manners, "It's a pleasure to see you again."
"You as well, Abraxas." She greeted him warmly, and when he glanced up, he relaxed as he saw her smile, "You're looking so grown up!"
He'd preened a little, he'd shot up a few inches since the summer, and was now one of the tallest in their year.
Weasley had grown too, but Potter remained smaller and lighter, retaining his Seeker's build.
As the others bundled through, one after the other, he watched as Mrs Hawthorne greeted them all, until finally Tierra stepped through, followed closely by Tom.
The others had been ushered off to their rooms, but Abraxas lingered.
He wasn't sure why, maybe he wanted to make sure Tom was welcomed, maybe he just wanted to witness the moment.
He needn't of worried of course.
Mrs Hawthorne enfolded Tom into a long, warm hug, before she stepped back, lifting a hand to cradle his cheek, a soft look in her eyes. The boy looked incredibly bashful about the attention, even looking a bit relieved as she turned her attention to her daughter, lavishing her with kisses that made the girl laugh, and bat her mother away.
Satisfied, Abraxas slipped away.
As night fell the group headed out to the lakeside, eager and chattering.
Most of them hadn't partaken in a traditional All Hallows Eve, before. In fact even if they had, the traditions varied even between family to family.
The Malfoy tradition was very restrained, involving a candle lit with magic and attempting to see the future in its flames. Then after long moments of trying they would blow the candle out, whispering the name of an ancestor or deceased relative they wished to speak with.
Then if they were fortunate, the shape of the one called, would appear in the candlesmoke.
The Hawthornes did it very differently.
There were two unlit bonfires set up, and they circled around them, seven on one side and, seven on the other. Abraxas found himself at the left hand pyre, with Tom, Harry, Tierra, Hermione, Kara and Kel.
"Press your hands to the bonfire and call your magic forward." Mrs Hawthorne instructed from nearby, "You must light it from your magic, giving a bit of yourself to the flames. Some of you will find this easier than others, if fire is your natural alignment. If you find yourself struggling to bring it forward, speak this word "Aithu."
Tierra was the only one of them that looked at all unphased, having done this before in her life, but where Harry looked openly apprehensive, Tom was hiding all but the faintest signs of agitation.
The Hufflepuff pressed her palms to the wood, and her eyes closed.
For a moment there was silence before she whispered, "Aithu."
As she spoke, there was a moment, a moment Abraxas almost thought he imagined, where he saw fire ripple in her hair, but at the same time, real flames came to life under her palms, and her lips curved up into a smile.
He was sure she'd said the world, not because she needed to, but because they'd needed to hear her say it.
Unwilling to be left out, the others also touched the pyre, and quiet whispers of 'Aithu,' filled the air.
Tom simply touched the wood, and under his hands fire bloomed.
Soon the bonfires were ablaze, feeling warmer and safer than any natural blaze could.
"Now we have to walk through it," Tierra informed them quietly, as they all eyed the gateway, formed by the two burning pyres., "And we'll receive something, a vision, a visit…"
Kel shuddered beside them and Harry instinctively rested his hand on her shoulder, "You okay?"
"Yes…"
They knew she was lying, but none of them wanted to call her on it. Not when they all knew what exactly was worrying her.
Kel feared her visions.
The other seven walked through, and disappeared from sight, hidden behind smoke and flame.
Long moments passed, and still none of them moved forward.
None of them wanted to be the one to suggest moving.
Until Tierra gently slipped her hand in Tom's, and Kel's, giving them both small smiles as she tugged them forward.
Tom grabbed Harry's on the other side, and Abraxas took Kel's, giving her a small, warm smile, as Hermione joined Harry.
A warm hand slid into his other, and he looked over in surprise to see Kara, beside him, her determined gaze fixed on the fire before them.
Her hand was soft.
Slowly, together, they walked through the flames.
As the smoke cleared out of their faces, Abraxas heard Hermione gasp.
Before them was a vision.
It took him a moment to recognise the great hall of where he called home, the grand hall of Malfoy Manor. It was dark, almost like the sunlight couldn't make it through the windows, like the fire in the braziers and in the candles couldn't burn.
Nearby he saw a boy who was familiar, who had Draco's pointed chin and pale blond hair, but who looked like he hadn't slept in months. There were tears in his eyes.
On the floor was a young woman, a young woman with wild brown hair and hazel eyes.
Hermione.
Another woman was crouched over her, with a wicked blade in her hands, one that gleamed with a sheen that instantly told Abraxas it was cursed. The woman was grinning savagely, her long, thick black hair falling around her face.
Walburga, it had to be. She had the same heavy, raven hair.
But… it couldn't be. The Hermione before them was only a few years older than she was now, dressed in strange clothes, the woman crouched like a predator over her, was much older.
The vision was coming closer, or so it seemed, until Abraxas realised he was still walking, unable to stop.
"Tell me how you broke into my vault," she crooned.
The Hermione before them shook her head, tears trickling from her eyes, "I didn't."
The woman snarled, and lowered the knife to the soft, pale skin of Hermione's upper arm.
The scream that filled the air was so horrible, so devastating that Abraxas wanted to let go of Kel, let go of Kara. He wanted to cover his ears, he wanted to curse the witch and save Hermione, but they were still walking, walking past the scene.
He couldn't let go.
They couldn't stop walking.
Hermione's terrible shrieks faded behind them, disappearing as soon as they passed through the doorway on the other end of the Hall.
Now they were in a dark forest, walking slowly forward, ever forward, and before them walked an older version of Harry.
This Harry was covered in dirt, grime, blood and horror. He was pale, but somehow… serene.
He stepped out into a clearing.
Voices spoke, Abraxas strained to hear them, but they were muffled.
The dark air was broken by a flash of terrible, horrifying green light.
It struck Harry, standing defenceless, unmoving.
And Harry fell.
Abraxas tried to shout, but no sound came out, and he looked wildly around.
The others were pale, and just as horrified as he.
Tom's eyes were burning, fury in them, and something Abraxas thought for a moment could only be grief.
They stepped out of the forest into a battle.
Abraxas' head snapped around, seeing spells flying above his head, seeing flames licking at the sky, and heard the screams of the people all around them, fleeing towards a house that was lit with every candle imaginable.
"The shield won't hold much longer," he heard a girl cry, and saw a young woman standing in the centre of the chaos with her hand raised. Above them the spells crashed into the glasslike dome flames flickering along its smooth surface. But there were cracks.
"Come on!" A man yelled to her, "Come on!"
"Go!" she cried back, "Someone has to close the door! GO!"
The man hesitated, but obeyed.
A moment later the shield shattered and the girl screamed.
When the dust cleared, they found themselves walking past the girl, coughing weakly on the ground, her hair dark with ash and dirt, and round face smeared with blood.
A man pressed his foot to her throat and she choked, struggling weakly.
"Where did they go?" the man asked, voice heavy with a thick German accent, "Where did they go, girl?"
She shook her head, as they walked away, "I'll never tell you."
"You will. Crucio."
They passed through a door into a wrecked town hall, and the horrible sound of the girl they'd left behind screaming as she was killed was cut off.
Abraxas was shaking now, and he felt Kel's hand shivering in his, and Kara's was tight as a vice crushing his fingers.
It was dark around them, so dark he could look neither left nor right.
He heard a voice, familiar and yet elusive, whisper almost like it was in his ear,
"It's killing me. It is my gift and my curse."
Silence.
Then slowly they emerged into a room.
Abraxas saw a man, a man with pale blond hair, and broad shoulders, standing with his wand drawn.
Standing opposite him was another man, one with dark eyes, and black hair, and jarringly familiar.
But he couldn't place it.
"Come on, Brax," the man spoke, and Abraxas realised with a jolt that it was his own form standing before him, "I'm doing you a favour!"
"A favour!" It was strange hearing his own voice, deeper and rougher than he was useful, "What have you done!"
"I have done, as I have always done, my best for Wizard kind!" the other man shouted, "I refuse to let it be destroyed."
He held out his hand, offering it to the shade of Abraxas, "Join me. Help me. We can build a brand new world… a perfect world."
The vision disappeared around them as they passed through the two figures and out into blinding sunlight.
Abraxas' eyes watered, and it took a moment for them to adjust. Slowly he took in the sight of green grass, and Hogwarts. But the stone wasn't the weathered dark grey colour, it was bright, clean.
New.
Four figures stood before it.
One was a towering man with light red hair that was a darker red towards the ends. He wore armour that was scarlet and black, with gold embellishments, with a sword on his hip, studded with rubies.
The other man was almost devastatingly handsome, with black hair and a short cropped beard. Heavy brows sat above a pair of intense green eyes that seemed to see everything, and miss nothing. He wore simpler clothes in soft green hues, with a heavy cloak. But he wore it all like the most expensive attire one could buy.
The first of the women was exceptionally beautiful with her dark eyes and delicate features. She wore a blue cloak with the hood up, but underneath it you could see a silver tiara, and a gown of blue and silver thread that glittered like metal. A Queen, he thought with awe, admiring her regal bearing and the intelligence of her gaze.
The final person was another woman, with a sweet face, round, bright eyes that were different shades of blue, one darker and the other lighter, with golden hair and a gown of rich black with gold embellishment on it.
"So we are decided," the red man noted, gesturing at the castle, "We shall each build something to test the mettle of our chosen students, leaving them secrets and learning to aid them in becoming the protectors this great land of Albion requires! A gauntlet, to separate the truly great, the brave, the warriors from the rest."
"Indeed," the woman in blue, Ravenclaw, he realised with awe, "But where you shall simply test their brutish strength Godric, I shall stimulate their minds. The Repository is only for those who truly understand the meaning of wit and learning."
"Your repository shall be found by every student with the wit to ramble off facts, without any true understanding." Slytherin, because if she was Ravenclaw then he must be Salazar Slytherin, mused, voice a rich tenor, "Mine shall test their resolve, their determination…and their ruthlessness too."
"Must you all, always make it about tests." Hufflepuff sighed softly, "They are more than just the next generation of defenders. They are young, they need to learn and have fun. My place shall be a haven… whatever they need it to be, it shall be."
"You have too kind a heart Helga," Salazar murmured as Ravenclaw and Gryffindor wandered away, gesturing, "The days ahead shall be dark, they need to be ready to face them."
Helga smiled at him softly and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, "You worry too much Sal, but if they do face such struggles, don't all heroes need a place to rest and recuperate?"
Salazar chuckled, and Abraxas tried not to let his mind boggle too much at seeing Slytherin so warm, and fond.
"I shall be hard on my chosen Helga, if you will be kind."
They moved past, but just before they disappeared into shadow once more, Abraxas heard something that made his skin prickle.
"Are you still resolved to build your Chamber? For Nathaira?"
"Indeed," Salazar's voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it.
"Godric is your closest friend, you are both closer than kin. Why must you keep this a secret even from him?"
"Because he cannot understand-"
The voice became unintelligible, and the scene faded with it into complete, almost enveloping blackness.
Slowly the darkness parted to bring them to one, last location
The new place was unearthly. Shallow water gathered around their calves, but where he felt a pulling current, and a piercing cold, he could not feel the sensation of wetness.
It was also unnervingly silent.
A figure stood before them, neither youthful, nor ancient, beautiful and twisted, and somehow both at the same time.
Before it stood a handsome man, with his silky black hair, dark, determined eyes and pale skin.
Tom.
Not as he was now, but Tom as he would be… or could be.
Abraxas could feel the power surrounding him, heavy and heady and rich.
"This is my Kingdom, mortal," The figure's words were spoken matter of factly, no hint of emotion in its voice as it answered, "Your threats and your bloodline mean nothing here."
"And my Magic?"
The ancient eyes turned to him, and within them Abraxas could see millennia beyond counting.
"Now that is a different matter."
Slowly it walked forward, through the knee deep water, although no ripples or splashes disturbed the ink black depths as it moved.
"You have come far."
Tom held his ground as he kept his gaze locked on its own, "And I have farther still to go."
"His soul is mine." The tiny smile on the figure's lips was a tragic one, "It was promised to me."
"It was not theirs to promise."
"Oh?" the ancient eyes burned with amusement now, "Are you saying they are false?"
"Only that this one did not belong to them." Tom's chin tilted proudly, "How can he be when he was mine first."
The ancient being let out a laugh like bones rattling and then slowly the water of the river parted, revealing a path to the mighty black gate.
"The gates to death are many...but there is but one path to life." The figure's voice was barely a whisper, but Abraxas felt it within his very soul. "Just as your Coven holds you to life...so you must bridge this gate. Otherwise he will be lost within...never to return. I do you this one favour, Riddle."
"Why?"
The figure's smile was impossibly sad, and Abraxas felt his breath catch, "Hope."
Tierra's mother's eyes were serious after they all relayed their visions to her.
"That is most unusual," she assured them quietly, "Tierra can attest, normally you get a glimpse, or hear something that might help you in the year to come, or comfort from someone who has passed beyond."
She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "It is very rare to have such vivid visions."
"But what do they mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward, "They were so… strange." He shared a glance with Hermione, who nodded, looking worried.
"They must be the future," Kara mused softly, "Or a possible future."
She was still pale, but there was a resolute look to her chin too.
Abraxas wanted to agree but he saw Harry and Hermione exchange another serious look.
They didn't think so. Not entirely.
And he remembered the vision of the Founders. That wasn't the future...
Mrs Hawthorne nodded, "I can imagine they are terribly confusing. I'm afraid I can offer no further advice than that." she shifted and reached out to draw a book close, "Tom…"
Slowly Tom got to his feet and made his way over to her, accepting the soft leather bound book she slid into his hands.
"My father reminded me that we had this diary. He managed to preserve some vital memories within its pages, like a pensieve. I believe they involve events around his fifth year at school." she took his hand in hers, and he met her gaze steadily, "Use the information within it wisely, Tom. Remember that our legacies are what we make them."
Abraxas couldn't stop thinking about the visions.
He lay in bed that night, safe and warm in Hawthorne Hall and thought about what he'd seen.
The vision of Hermione being tortured in Malfoy Manor was the most troubling one, seeing his dear friend being hurt in a place that he thought of as home. But he was also concerned about the feeling of it too. The oppressive darkness, but like sickness, like black bile spreading through veins.
Poisoned.
That vision, that world, had felt poisoned.
Hermione herself had looked exhausted, careworn. The boy, Draco perhaps, in the vision looked just as drained.
Like all the light had been drained from them.
So preoccupied was he, that he almost didn't hear the soft sounds of feet outside his door.
Quickly he slid out of his bed and padded over to it, opening it quietly in time to see two shadows slip through the doorway, two doors down.
Tom's room.
He followed.
There he found them all, all awake, all serious, all worried.
"You couldn't sleep either?" he asked, redundantly he knew, but he was just too relieved that he wasn't the only one freaking out.
Heads nodded around the circle.
"I just don't understand," Ross' voice was quiet, "Why would we get those visions? We're nothing special… we're just normal."
Tom stiffened almost imperceptibly and then relaxed again as Tierra leaned into his shoulder.
"Aren't we?" Harry challenged, "Look around? Yes we're just kids, but… We have someone from every house, we're ahead of everyone in our Year. We're delving into magic people haven't touched in centuries. We have a Parselmouth descended from Salazar Slytherin himself…and…" here he hesitated, "Another one who has it too."
Tom's head snapped around at Harry in shock, and the boy shrugged weakly, "I didn't want to… impose. It was your moment."
"You're a bloody fool Potter," Tom's voice was sharp, and cross, but there was a tiny smile on his lips that told them all he was only half serious.
"You have purebloods, half-bloods and muggleborns," Draco pointed out, deftly trying to move them along, "Gryffindors and Slytherins, Malfoys and a Weasley…"
Ron flipped Draco a rude hand gesture, and everyone sniggered.
"Speaking of Slytherin…" Abraxas pointed out, and glanced at Tom who nodded, "Those four, at Hogwarts. They had to be the Founders."
Everyone nodded, "They spoke of testing their chosen students," Aurora pointed out, "But I've never heard of Ravenclaw's Repository before, only her Diadem."
"Slytherin apparently had a Scriptorium," Tierra mused quietly, "Mum says the way to it is dangerous and requires a sacrifice…"
"Also…" Harry squirmed a little, "The Chamber, the one Hufflepuff mentioned at the end. The Chamber of Secrets?"
"That's just a myth," Ross scoffed, "Everyone knows that."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Hermione shook her head, "Myths so often have a basis in reality."
"Who's to say any of these tests were built," Bash nudged her gently, "Come on, it's been centuries, surely they would have been found."
"The Scriptorium was found." Tierra insisted, "But they left it swiftly, so there could still be more there."
"The Haven, the one Hufflepuff mentioned." Harry coughed lightly, "I found it last year. I've been calling it the Room of Requirement. It changes to whatever you need it to be."
"Way to share, Potter!" Aurora sneered, glaring at the green eyed Slytherin, "Keeping that to yourself were you?"
"No-" Harry scowled back, "I just wasn't sure what it was, just seemed like another one of Hogwarts' crazy secrets…"
"Two out of four confirmed," Kel mused quietly, "Sounds like we should assume that Gryffindor's Gauntlet and Ravenclaw's Repository are actually real…"
"And we're going to find them." Tom informed them all, "All of them."
Tierra shifted uneasily, Abraxas watched her out of the corner of his eye, but no one else seemed to notice the Hufflepuff's discomfort. Instead the group started debating the tests, until suddenly Kara's voice broke into the muttering.
"The… the last vision we had, called us a Coven." Kara glanced around at them all, and there was a world of hesitation in her voice, "What does that mean?"
"Covens are a throwback to the Dark Ages," Hermione immediately answered, almost by rote, "Most of them were a gathering of powerful witches and wizards who worked together to rule, protect and hold a small kingdom. When Britain was ruled by hundreds of tiny kingdoms." she sighed, "They would make each other stronger, the sum of their parts. But it was dangerous too…"
"Power always comes with risk," Bash nodded sagely, "Balance is everything. You get an advantage one way, and a disadvantage another."
"Some suggested that the Round Table was the last great Coven." Tierra sighed softly, "The art is forbidden now. The modern Ministry has classified it as dark magic."
"The ministry classifies most of the magic from that era as dark," Aurora sniffed haughtily, draped across some cushions like a snake herself, "Covens were dangerous because they amplified everyone's magical ability within it. The stronger the Coven, the more balanced, the more in tune, the greater the magical ability."
Abraxas glanced at Tom out of the corner of his eye.
Tom was listening to Aurora intently and there was a gleam to his eyes.
"However," The dark haired Ravenclaw held up a finger warningly, "If a member of a Coven died, they were almost powerless until they filled the place. If a Coven… fell apart. It could shatter some of their magic. Thus powerful together…but separate..fragile."
The gleam dimmed only a little in Tom's eyes. He looked very thoughtful.
"When you say balanced, what do you mean?" Harry asked quietly, "Being all of similar power levels?"
Druella shook her head, "Balance in terms of this sort of magic, ancient and olde magic particularly usually refers to a balance of personalities, powers…and yes elemental alignments."
She looked over at Abraxas who couldn't help rolling his eyes, "There was nothing to prove such a thing, just superstition."
"Fire, Water, Air, Earth, for the four." Aurora murmured, "Past, Present, Future. For the three. Making seven. A coven had to have at least seven. Usually a multiple of Seven."
"Like… fourteen?" Tom mused, running his dark gaze over them all.
Uncomfortable silence fell.
"Look…" Ross laughed nervously, "I love you guys but… I'm not doing Dark Magic."
"There is Dark Magic and then there is dark magic." Aurora scowled at him, "Very different."
"Oh yeah I can tell," Ross snarked back, "Dark and dark. How could I have been so stupid."
Bickering broke out and Abraxas sighed.
"It's different!" he spoke over them, flushing as they all looked at him, "Modern magic, the dark kind. It's all about the intent of causing harm, subverting free will. Ancient and Olde magic might do that, but ALL of it had a counter balance. No spell back then would kill someone outright. Or hurt them in a way that couldn't be stopped." He winced, "Ancient magic is dark because it's dangerous to the users. Modern dark magic is dark because it's dangerous to the users AND the ones inflicted with it."
All of them took that in.
Bash was the one to speak up, "We've all seen the way the Magical World is going. Blood purity. Corrupt politicians. The Muggle world war… the world is getting darker. People are getting more afraid and more resentful. If Grindelwald doesn't succeed, madman that he is… then I don't think it will be long before someone else rises to take his place. I don't think it would be long until the Wizarding World is discovered. And destroyed."
An uncomfortable silence fell.
No one knew what to say.
Perhaps… there simply was nothing to say to that.
Abraxas barely slept after that.
He had realised, in his third year, that his parents and their world had given him a very warped reality.
The realisation that the Wizarding World wasn't thriving, and that it wasn't the fault of the Muggles that the Pure Blood Families were so determined to blame was shocking to him.
It was rotting.
From the inside.
Hate, anger, resentment. Muggleborns hating and being kept down by a system ruled by an upper class that hated them in return. Creatures being treated as monsters. Politicians seeking their own advancement.
Because who cared about the long term right? Getting reelected was far more important.
He'd had this realisation suddenly, like a stone dropped into a lake, and felt sick the rest of the day.
He still wasn't sure what to do with it.
He kept coming back to Hermione, her squib roots and her powerful magic and keen intelligence.
He kept coming back to Kara.
Kara who was bright, and brave and determined. Who met the sneers with dignity and resolute calm. Who defended her friends fiercely like a true Lioness.
He'd learned his whole life that she was dirty, filthy, unworthy to study magic.
That she didn't deserve to exist.
But he didn't want to imagine a world without Kara's bright eyes, her freckled nose and that goofy grin.
How could a world be better without her, without Hermione, in it?
It couldn't be.
He had to conclude that… they were wrong. His whole childhood, all the lessons were wrong.
So why was it so hard to remember that? Why did he keep messing up, returning to a lesson already proven wrong?
He didn't know.
But he did know one thing. One day his parents, Rex, everyone would realise he no longer believed it all. And then he'd be considered a Blood Traitor…
He'd lose everything.
He wasn't ready for that.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Reviews
Doreene - I'm glad you like where this is going! Hope your interest continues.
Amk - The revenge was fun to write. Tomerra, Drarora and Karaxas huh? Hmmm interesting. I have a number of people loving Drarora and Karaxas... and yes, I do have to disappoint you, there will be no Romione in this story. They are great as friends but I honestly have never shipped them. No offence to those who love the ship, we all have our own flavours and that's what makes us all interesting.
Vexinity - Hermione he appreciates for her drive and intelligence, the only thing holding me back from them in this story is that I'm not sure they'll bring out the best in each other. Hermione is already so driven, and we know she can work herself into a state of almost madness with her stress. Tom is just as driven. I worry they'd drive each other into the ground xD But they are still a strong contender for me.
WFver - Thank you for reviewing! I love reading them. As you can see, Harry shared his parselmouth abilities in this chapter, but it will come up again in future chapters too. Don't worry about the English, we'll figure it out together!
Guest - Why my titles are creative interpretations of Latin? Well spells are in creative interpretations of latin. And each refer to something happening in the chapter...some of them also hold clues for future points.
Smithback - Tomione and Tomerra huh? Noted. And yes Kara and Abraxas seem to be quite popular. There are many mysteries. Some even left in the chapters that have been... threads that people have yet to connect... I can't wait until they are!