Chapter 26
You ever get the feeling that the world is working against you? Alex had that feeling on multiple levels. On a larger level was the fact that he ensured that Hermione would not be in the path of the troll and yet here she was and there the troll was… oh and the redhead was there too. It might be a new beginning of the golden trio except for one very important difference: the fact that the entire house of Gryffindor was there too.
That was another thing that was working against Alex. As the troll chased Ron down the hall towards them, the group of Gryffindors found themselves in a very awkward position. Alex had mentioned that they had reached the fourth floor; yet seeing as there were about two hundred students in Gryffindor this meant that the lions were spread out along the stairs between third floor and the fifth floor with Alex and Hermione being with the collection of first years in the middle, which was right at the landing of the fourth floor.
The arrangement had made some tentative sense. At the front and back of the column of students were the sixth and seventh years split into two group, one to take the lead and one to bring up the rear. Should the troll have appeared in front of the group or behind the group there would have been a collection of NEWT students to hold the beast off while the younger students were able to get away. Between these brave upperclassmen were the fourth- and fifth-year students and then then the third and second and right in the middle were the little firsties. Or to sum it up, the column of students on the stairs were arranged in a pattern of 7,6,4,2,1,3,5,6,7 in an attempt to protect the youngest students from any danger or from wondering off.
What this meant that with the students spread out along the staircase; the first and second years were actually closest to the approaching troll. Oh… and Percy Weasley and Holly Wickerweave, the two youngest prefects who were in the middle to help maintain order.
It was pandemonium.
The seventh years at the front pushed against the students behind them to reach the fourth floor while the seventh years at the back did the same. Some of the sixth years tried to go flee up with the fourth years while some tried to go down to offer assistance while the fifth and third years couldn't seem to decide if going up in the direction of the common room of fleeing back down towards the safety of the Great Hall was the better option… so they attempted both to limited success against the sixth and seventh years at the back trying to come up. The first and second years ended up being squished in the middle, unable to proceed forward and unable to go up or down the stairs and trapped within an ever-tightening mass of adolescent bodies.
"Arrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!" Ron was screaming as he ran.
"ARRRGGGGG!" The troll was screaming as it chased.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Most of the students were screaming as they pressed against each other in their frantic attempts to go somewhere.
Percy was able to push himself out of the crowd of students just as a swing of the troll's club crashed against a suit of armour standing sentry in the call. The metal suit scattered and the helmet flew forward and slammed against the back of Ron's legs causing him to fall ass-over-teakettle with a painful sounding grunt. The troll was quick to catch up with the boy and raised its club high to crush the pitiful first-year.
Percy though, was quick to action. Alex was holding his own wand ready within his pocket but waited to see what the Weasley prefect would do. While Percy got a lot of flak from fans for his obsession with order and his defection to the ministry, the boy had always been portrayed as intelligent and level-headed.
"Stupify!" Percy bellowed; the bright red spell sped through the air only to splash harmlessly off the troll's magically resistant hide. The creature barely even noticed and swung down it's club to crush the fallen boy.
… Or he could be a typical Gryffindor idiot.
Alex couldn't wait a second longer and reached out with his telekinesis to yank on Ron, quickly dragging the boy out of the way of the descending club which cracked the stone floor where Ron had been just an instant before. Ron kept sliding towards the group and further out of harm's way and the troll took a moment to realise it had missed. It blinked stupidly at the spot where Ron had been as if confused as to why there was not a large splatter of red.
"Stupify!" Percy attempted to stun the troll again. Proving an old adage about insanity.
"Trolls are magically resistant! Use indirect magic!" Holly, the female fifth-year prefect, called out as the Troll looked up and traced the flash of red light back to the ineffective caster and once more began ambling towards the clogged stairway. "Incarcerous!" Holly jabbed her wand forward sending ropes — bola like — at the trolls' legs.
The ropes wrapped around the trolls' legs and tripped it causing it to stumble and fall sideways into the wall with a resounding crash just as Percy let loose a "Confringo!" which soared right over the creature's head and blew a portrait off the wall with a loud CRACK!
Thankfully the subject of the painting, an old wizard in one of those ridiculous powdered wigs of the 1600s, had been able to dodge into an adjoining painting of a herd of unicorns; which contrary to their implied genial nature, attempted to gore the poor man on sight.
"RrraaaHHHH!" the Troll bellowed angrily as it trashed on the ground which caused the ropes that tripped it to be snapped instantly by its much greater physical strength. The beast rolled onto front and glared up at the students that had knocked it down. Already it was scrambling to pull itself back up.
The Troll's loud cry unfortunately aggravated the students who couldn't see what was happening which caused the entire swell of young wizards and witches on the stairs to shift, the sudden movement of students knocked down both Percy and Holly and pushed Alex and Hermione and a few other first-years out onto the landing and, unfortunately, directly into the predicted path of the angry Troll.
"Hermione!" Alex stepped up next to Hermione who was actually furthest onto the stair landing.
The girl turned wide frightened eyes on Alex, who pulled out his wand and pointed it at the felled troll, his other hand finding hers and gripping it tightly. "It's LeviOsa, not LeviosA"
Hermione, bless her cotton socks, immediately picked up on what Alex intended and pulled her wand from her pocket to point at the troll that was climbing to its hands and knees. Say what you will about a Mountain Trolls incredible strength, the larger they are the harder they fall and the longer it takes for them to get back to their feet.
"WinGARdium LeviOsa," the pair incanted.
The troll's club very nearly launched into the air like a rocket as it flew out of the trolls grasp and slammed into the ceiling while clipping the creatures chin on the way past. The sudden blow knocked the troll back to the floor with a painful sounding whomp! The troll stared stupidly at its empty hand from where it was lying on the floor before slowly looking upwards.
"Hold it!" Alex commanded Hermione who nodded even as her brow beaded with sweat.
"Acusignis!" Alex directed his will at the wooden club, imagining it becoming denser, metallic, heavy and, of course, sharply pointed.
"Just a little more." Alex tried to reassure Hermione who he could see was starting to flag under the weight of the now heavy metal club which now resembled a stupidly large nail.
Alex again used his telekinesis to subtly adjust the position of the nail then let loose a second-year spell. "Engorgio!"
The large nail suddenly swelled in size and, most importantly, weight. Hermione was unable to keep the sudden downward pointed spire aloft and lost her hold on the spell with an exhausted gasp. With gravity once again able to exert its inevitable influence on the now much larger, much heavier and much sharper club, it plunged straight downward directly at its previous wielder and pierced the poor creature right at the base of the neck.
Even with a giant nail piercing its spine and literally nailing it to the floor it still took a few seconds for the Troll to realise it was dead. The poor thing blinked stupidly at the watching students before the light faded from its eyes.
The entire stairwell was silent as the students staired at the now dead Troll.
"Ow…" Ron groaned and regained his own feet from where Alex had telekinetically dragged him. He looked up at the crowd of students then back at the troll then again at the entirety of Gryffindor house. "Did I miss the feast?"
⦖⋄⦕
Hermione Granger's cheeks hurt but it was a good type of hurt as she could not stop smiling.
Still in her pyjamas and wrapped up in a heavy blanket she re-read the letter from Harry again as her left hand found the silver bracelet on her right wrist and her fingers traced the twisted Celtic knots that wrapped around the prominent pearl. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the miniscule runes that Harry had engraved into the silver. She didn't recognise all the runes yet and even then, it seemed to have too few to produce the various effects described with the note provided.
The bracelet was a Christmas gift from Harry and had somehow appeared in a dark blue velvet box at the foot of her bed sometime between when she went to bed on Christmas Eve and when she awoke Christmas morning. The simple circlet of silver was composed of multiple bands that twisted and wrapped around each other to create a braided knot of silver metal. In the centre, carefully nestled in a woven cradle of silver, was a large round pearl that almost glowed with a sheen of blueish-purple. Not only was it absolutely beautiful, it was packed full of various runes and charms that made it incredibly useful. Hermione could definitely appreciate something that had functionality as well as form.
She ran through the list of functions within her mind as her fingers traced the weave of silver. The simplest function was a comfort rune and a size adjustment rune that meant that she barely even noticed it was on, it hadn't even felt cold when she first put it on from the box. The size adjustment meant that not only would the bracelet's size adjust as she grew, it would never accidently slip off her wrist. The time and map function boggled her mind and she was dying to interog — ahem! — quiz Harry on how it was done when she next saw him. With either a gesture or a command word, the pearl would produce a floating time display or a map of Hogwarts in a manner that made her think more of Princess Leia's message to Obi-Wan Kenobi than magic timepiece.
"Hermione?" A woman's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes, Mum?" Hermione snapped herself back to the present as her mother entered her room.
Emmaline Granger was an attractive woman even nearing forty. She had was tall and willowy with long brown hair that she often kept in a lose braid. Hermione was often jealous that while she had inherited the rich colour of her mother's hair, she had gotten the tangled curls from her father. Emmaline's eyes were a similar dark brown to her daughter's though they lacked the hints of gold that were present in her daughter's eyes.
"I was calling for a while now, Dear, it's Christmas morning; you're usually the one to wake us." Her mother said with a chuckle then frowned as she looked at the girl more closely. "You've been crying, is everything ok?" Her mother asked and took a seat on the edge of her bed with one hand outstretched to wipe a tear off Hermione's cheek.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh, the action hurting her still sore cheeks. "I'm fine, Mum. I'm happy. I got some gifts from my friends." Hermione waved her hand at the other gifts that arrived much like the bracelet. A couple of romance/fiction books from Tracey, an ornate quill set from Daphne and even some wizarding sweets from her Dorm mates Lavender and Parvati. Yet her mother's eyes narrowed in on the bracelet she was wearing.
"Ohh… this is new? Also, from a friend?" Her mother asked with a happy smile, happy that her reclusive daughter was making friends at that school they sent her too. A school of magic and witchcraft, she knew her daughter had been special but that was completely outside the wheelhouse.
Hermione couldn't keep the blush from her face as she gave a mumbled, "From Harry."
Emmaline's smile turned almost predatory. "Harry?" She seemed to taste the name, drawing it out. "And Harry is a boy?" She sounded gleeful.
Hermione rolled her eyes even as her cheeks flushed deeper. "Yes, Harry is a boy and is my best friend."
"Oh, daughter mine." Emma purred. "We have much to talk about."
A shout echoed up from downstairs. "Honey? Hermione? Are you two coming down? Your breakfast is getting cold."
Emma tuned to the door to call back. "Be right down, Sugar-free."
Hermione could only shake her head at the irony of her parents being dentists yet so sickly-sweet to each other.
Emma turned back to her daughter. "Later. You are telling me all about Harry later."
As Hermione was pulled from the warm cocoon that was her bed, she couldn't help but feel a little bit of trepidation at the mother-daughter talk that was to come. It's not like Harry was her boyfriend or something. A flash of memory of Harry taking her hand as they faced down a mountain troll together stoked the warm feeling in her chest and the strange feeling of butterflies in her stomach. No, not like she liked-liked him… right?
⦖⋄⦕
Sirius Black was warm and comfortable. That was the first clue that something wasn't right. The cell in Azkaban within which he had been confined for the near decade could be describe in many words and warm and comfortable wouldn't appear without a negative modifier before them. No, cold and crippling would have best describe his incarceration. The cell was hard stone that leeched the body of warmth, the frigid artic air off the ocean squeezed through the barred windows and curled around any huddled form within the spires tender care. But worse than the icy environs, worse than the bare stone room and the thin prisoner's uniforms, worse than the lack of bedding, worse than the gruel given only to prolong their suffering, was the dementors. Creatures of blackest magic and demonic intent, creatures that sustained themselves on the happy memories and thoughts of the sentients around them. Dementors literally sucked the joy from those around them, much like the persistent cold which they carried about themselves like a cloak of hoarfrost and mist sucked the heat from one's breath.
Dementors could not be killed by any known means and the ministry of old had struck a deal with the foul creatures as a tentative method of control. The wizards offered up a tribute of their criminals to stave off the demons. The creatures could feed on the happiness of those within the stone tower that was the prison of Azkaban and, should some poor asshole either have committed a grievous enough crime or simply had someone out there able to pay enough bribes to get them disposed of, the dark wardens were allowed to bestow their kiss upon the unfortunate prisoner. A kiss that stole from them their very soul leaving only a breathing, living but empty husk of flesh.
Sirius was certain that only his name of Black was staying the hand of Malfoy or some other dark moneybags from paying for his accidental execution at the lips of a demon. The ministry might be happy to keep him imprisoned in a type of legal limbo until he died from his time within the walls of the prison but a kiss of an heir of a Wizengamot family would have to be investigated. A kiss of an heir could not be swept away as the process of investigation was engrained in the very agreement between the Dementors and the ministry. A surprisingly intelligent piece of legislation that would ensure that Dementors could not be used as the ministry secret attack dogs, at least against the ruling families of the England's magical nobility. The members of the Wizengamot might be corrupt, nepotistic purebloods but they knew to protect themselves from the possibility of giving the state too much power.
Sirius opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. The first thought of the dog-marauder that passed through the his head was that he had somehow been moved to the Hogwarts' infirmary. The bed he was in was a sturdy metal framed thing, though unlike the old school infirmary beds this one had retractable metal side bars for some reason. This thought was further emphasised by the rows of matching beds besides his own each with drawn back curtains of stainless white linen which matched the disinfectant scented sheets of his own bed. The room was airy and full of light from bright globes in the ceiling that produced magical sunlight. The sterile white-ness contrasted with dark grey stonework around the doors of the room and the large flagstones that made up the floor.
Truly, Sirius was almost convinced that he was in a Hogwarts infirmary that had seen some slight modernisation and some in-depth cleaning. Except he could see through the tall arched windows a view that was familiar and yet distinctly foreign. Missing were the distant Scottish mountains that surrounded Hogwarts and though there was a wide expanse of green forest, it dwarfed the forbidden forest of the school in size. Lastly, the night sky over the trees had never been so clear and full of stars that didn't twinkle but were clear points of brightness within a multihued expanse of blacks, violets, and blues.
"Oh my. I see you're awake, Mr Black." Sirus was startled from his staring at the night through the windows by a melodic voice nearby.
'Pink!' Was Sirius' first thought at the appearance of the woman which was quickly followed by 'Hot damn!' as he took her in in all her glory.
The woman was tall, much taller than Sirius, but she was also delightfully well-proportioned with long slender legs, a toned waist and modest yet not overflowing bust. She was dressed in a somewhat risqué outfit of flowing dark pink harem pants that shifted from opaque at the hips but became steadily more diaphanous down her legs which showed off her some of her thighs and much of her calves before the pants cinched at her bare feet. Her top was a strange combination of midriff baring halter-top and short jacket both in shades of pink and white but strangest of all was the large pink gemstone where her belly-button would have been.
Honestly, she certainly reminded the old dog of the actress from that weird genie 'Tee-Bee' show that Lily had once shown to the group during the summer after their final year. The way the woman kept her light pink hair up in an elaborate twist certainly matched with the attractive muggle's blond hairdo and definitely matched the outfit. But, if his memories were right in the comparison, this pink woman's face was softer than the human actress, softer and just a touch inhuman in a way that almost screamed Veela if not for the fact that Sirius could not feel the Allure… well, he could feel something but that just might be a natural reaction.
"H-hi?" Sirius rasped with a now noticed dry throat.
Wow… smooth moves there, old dog. He berated himself the less than stella first contact. Rule number one of the marauder's handbook of picking up chicks. Always make an impression on the first contact. Doesn't even have to be a good impression but you want her to remember you.
Surprisingly, his less than grand first words elicited an oddly melodic giggle from the woman as she conjured a glass of water which he grasped from her with two hands to keep steady.
"Easy there. You've been out for months now." She said as he slurped down the sweet, life-giving fluid.
"Months?"
The lovely pink woman nodded. "You were removed from the prison in September and it's actually Christmas day… so, Merry Christmas, I guess?"
Prison. Sirius thought to himself as echoes of Dementor chill trickled through his body, icy molasses that dripped and crystalised into depressive, intrusive thoughts. He hadn't even realised that he had curled into himself both physically and mentally until warm lips found his.
For just a moment his mind assumed that this was his end, that his soul was finally deemed forfeit to the demonic prison guards of Azkaban. Yet that thought was immediately dashed apart in pink sparkles as from his lips a warm, refreshing breeze was pushed through him, defrosting the spiritual ice and filling him with a feeling of pleasant contentment.
He blinked stupidly at the pink woman as she broke the kiss and leaned back into a chair by the bed. She had a small satisfied smirk at the look on his face. The old dog coughed and fought through his confusion to recover some of his dignity.
"Ahem. Ah, usually I at least exchange names before making out with a lass."
Again, that delightful giggle. "Only usually, Mr Black? I'm- "
"AZALEA!" A voice shouted from the hall as a small redhead burst through the door into the infirmary. "I got your message that Sirius is awake!"
The newly named Azalea rolled her eyes as she tuned to admonish the newcomer. "Please no shouting in the infirmary, Lyn. What if I had patients resting?"
"Pfft." The young girl — she didn't even appear to be Hogwarts age — snorted, "Then I would ask where the hell you got them? It's only you, me and Black up here most days. Not counting the Pearls and teaching-Gems."
Sirius was staring at the redhead who had barged in. "L-Lily?"
Hazel eyes found his — Not Lily — and the girl snorted again, this time with a downright devious look. "I look like Lily? Ha! I wonder if I can get Alex to call me 'Mommy?'" Her eyes went wide all of a sudden. "Ohh! I wonder if I can get him to shag me in front of Snape while he does so, that would really give the bat an aneurism." Maybe Lily.
"Er…"
Azalea saved him. "As you heard, my name is Azalea and this young lady is one of my bosses. Her name is Lyn."
"Though I may also be called Ginny on occasion." Lyn informed the ex-prisoner. "It's complicated."
"Don't forget sister, lover, babe and goddess." Alex mentioned as he walked into the room.
Lyn turned towards the newcomer while Sirius was once again struck mute by the boy that appeared so much like a younger James.
"I thought you were going to be late? Don't you need to let Dumbles show off the mirror?" Lyn asked.
Alex shook his head. "Nah, left a clone staring into the mirror for Dum-Dum to find, which should be easy for him since he put the tracker on the cloak."
"Giving a poisoned gift of a family heirloom to an orphan is such a dick move." Lyn nodded.
"My Lord." Azalea curtsied to the James look-alike which did delightful things to her chest that was enough to actually pull Sirius back into the here and now and not get lost in his own memories.
"Pron- no, you've Lily's eyes. Pronglet? Harry?" Sirius was not tearing up. Blacks don't cry. That was beaten into him by his dear ol' mom. No, his eyes were just a litter watery from the air here… where ever that was.
Alex smiled at the shell of a man. "Hiya Padfoot. And yeah… I'm Harry."
Sirius reached out slowly, as if hesitant or unsure yet at the same time painfully desperate and Alex stepped into his awkward embrace and patted the poor man on the back as he sobbed apologies into Alex's shoulder.
"It's OK, Sirius. It's OK." Alex soothed the man. "Though we do have a lot to talk about."
⦖⋄⦕
Sirius Black stared up at his namesake which shone brighter and clearer than he had ever seen it before. It was actually somewhat disconcerting. Where once he would see the dog-star and always feel that it was laughing at him encouragingly with its twinkling; now, in the absence of a proper atmosphere, it's steady shine was simply beautiful but no longer comforting.
"So, this is where you are." Azalea's soft voice interrupted his musings as she took a seat next to him on the stone seating.
The Luna Academy was a grand affair of spires and arches and amazing stonework, but already Sirius new that multiple garden terraces were his favourite aspect of the design. Large balconies with both open and enclosed green spaces on the sides of the building that allowed a fantastic view of the surrounding forest that filled the crater but also provided an unobstructed view of the brilliant night sky. If the timing was right, he also would have had a great view of the earth from his position but at the moment it was hidden beyond the Luna horizon, a glow of earthlight indicating its hiding spot. Were this Hogwarts he would have sought the view from the Astronomy Tower for when he wanted to sit and think, or muse as he would call it in an effort to seem more sophisticated to the ladies. The Astronomy Tower did afford a grand view but was also a place where many couples escaped to snog which somewhat destroyed the atmosphere of contemplation. Though, he wouldn't deny that he had also used the tower for the more intimate reasons as well.
"I thought I was no longer required to remain in the infirmary?" Sirius asked.
Azalea leant back against the stone. "You're not. But there's not really anyone else here right now but the Pearls and the Teachers and they aren't the best for conversation."
"Right…" Sirius pinched at the bridge of his nose between the eyes. "The alien Gemstone teachers at this empty school on the bloody moon."
"It's a lot to take in." Azalea said to which Sirius just snorted darkly.
"My godson is and is not my godson." Sirius said in pained sigh then carried on quickly when it looked like Azalea was going to object. "No, I get it. He is Harry, he's the same little tyke that I pushed around on a training broom. The same kid that turned my beard blue for a whole week with a spurt of accidental magic…"
Azalea just listened and let him talk, to which Sirius was grateful.
"But he's also Alex. Some guy from another universe with all the memories of his other life and his fantastical adventure… I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that." He stared up at the bright night stars. "It would feel stranger if I had been there, I'm sure. It's not like I've watched him grow up but it's weird seeing him act so grown-up when last I saw him, he was barely talking, calling me 'Pa-foo,' squealing with laughter as I levitated him around the room." Sirius shook his head. "Lily gave me and James an earful for that. As if we would have dropped him."
Sirius lapsed into a minute of silence as he remembered those better times.
"Here." Azalea reached into her Gem and pulled out a ceramic bottle and two glasses into which she poured a generous amount of a deep orange coloured liquid which steamed in the chill air.
Sirius blinked yet took the offered drink, relishing the warmth of the glass in his hand and took a sip. Sweet, bitter orange and spice filled his mouth with warm autumn days and burned pleasantly like lazy summer as he swallowed the hot alcoholic beverage.
Azalea laughed pleasantly at his hum of appreciation. "It's a mulled cider and orange liqueur recipe I've become quite partial to."
"No Firewhisky or butterbeer?" Sirius asked.
Azalea scrunched up her nose cutely. "No, no thank you. Butterbeer is much too sweet and I don't know why anyone would subject themselves to that horrid fiery drink."
The last marauder laughed at her objections to traditional wizarding alcohol and for a moment they simply enjoyed the quiet, the shine of the stars and the chill, forest scented air which was something Sirius was still wrapping his head around. How do you get a breeze on the moon?
"So, do you allow all your patients to drink?" Sirius couldn't help but break the silence with a smirk. "What if I get a hangover?"
The Gem's eyes glinted with mirth as she took a long sip of her own. "I do when I can just kiss it better."
Sirius took another sip of his own to hide the blush that graced his cheeks, admonishing himself for reacting like a schoolboy when he was a grown man, damnit.
"Right… Gem powers."
"Though…" Azalea seemed to ponder something. "It's a lot different kissing you when you're conscious."
Sirius almost spat out the mouthful of mulled cider and devolved into a choking fit. "You were kissing me when I was unconscious?" he finally asked incredulously once he had recovered his breath.
"Of course?" The pink Gem looked at him as if he was stupid. "Alex explained that I was responsible to getting you back to full health, didn't he? I've fixed most of the damage that a decade of dementor exposure, malnutrition and poor conditions had wrecked on your body."
Sirius looked down at his own hand gripping the glass noting the differences he had already seen but not really recognised. That it was clean of the grime of his cell was a given but it was also not the bony talon with yellowed nails that he had become used to. It was a strange disconnect that his hands looked to belong to a young man, not the tired shell that he really should be.
He reached into the robes he had been provided with and drew out the wand that he had matched best with from the collection of the wands that Alex had on hand for whatever reason. It wasn't his original wand of Dragon and Aspen but this new wand made of — snort! — Dogwood with a twin core of Grimm hair and Phoenix feather may actually suit him better. He waved his wand and conjured a mirror. The glass was patinaed with age yet the frame was still sturdy enough, still he was obviously out of practice.
Sirius stared at his reflection and the young man within stared back. There were signs if you looked closely. Most obvious was the streak of white that ran through his ebon curls but elsewise there was a certain tightness around the eyes, a slight hollowness to the cheeks as if he hadn't had a proper meal in a while. Yet, beyond those, he looked remarkably well and surprisingly young. If he had counted the years correctly then he had just turned thirty-three years old while in his coma after being saved from Azkaban yet the face before him couldn't be older than twenty-five, a rough twenty-five sure but still a man in his mid-twenties rather than the skeletal, walking corpse he knew he had become while incarcerated.
This explained why he felt so young at heart. Though the extended stay in Azkaban surely didn't help with his mental maturity he still felt like he was a young man in his prime rather than a poor fool with a decade stolen and the rest aged before it's time.
He wiped away the tear that fell down his cheek. Blacks don't cry. "Thankyou." His voice was raspy for some reason.
Azalea smiled warmly from where she still sat on the stone bench. "You're welcome."
He sat back down next to the wonderful, wonderful woman and she topped up his drink and let him come to terms with his new lease on life.
After about twenty minutes as their glasses were running low once again, she asked a question that brought an even bigger smile to his face than the gift of his youth.
"Wanna go and yell at the rat?"
Sirius turned serious eyes — Haha! — towards her. "Yes, yes I think I would like that very much."
⦖⋄⦕
"I see myself holding a nice, thick pair of woollen socks."
Albus Dumbledore lied through his teeth. Which, fair. It was a pretty invasive question but frankly it was a missed opportunity on his part to actually connect with the young orphan boy who he eventually plans to sacrifice for the greater good. Like, seriously, would have been so hard to say something like: 'Oh, I too see family that passed before they could truly live, I had a sister whose accidental death is partly my fault and would give near anything to have her back. I understand the wish for loved ones to be among us again, my boy.'
"Right." Alex nodded to the aged headmaster then bent down to retrieve the Cloak from where he had let it fall. "Well, I best get back to bed then, sir."
He strode past the manipulator and out of the room containing the Mirror of Erised and the reflection of himself with all of his girls laughing and having fun with a plethora of abilities and fascinating items. The mirror didn't really reflect anything new.
Alex walked through the dark hallways back to the dorm and considered his next steps. He had used his time with the mirror to confirm his plans for the confrontation with Voldemort at the end of the school year. Examination of the mirror's magic led him to believe that he would still be able to access the stone even though a part of him wanted it. Mainly because he really didn't want to 'use' the stone but he did want to examine it before returning it to the Flamels. The fiction this reality was based on implied that the stone Dumbledore used to bait his trap was a fake but it didn't actually state it outright. Even if it truly was a fake then he would want to examine it as it was still an artifact created by the acclaimed alchemist Nicholas Flamel and alchemical examples of such quality were few and far between.
Lost within his thoughts he would have walked right up to and through the spectral form of the Grey Lady had his InSpecs not pinged him with a proximity alert.
"Who are you child?" The willowy ghost asked perhaps a tad fearfully. "Who are you that walks between life and death?"
Alex tilted his head in surprise. He hadn't really had any interaction with any of the ghosts of the school since the year started. Which, now that he considered it, was a bit odd in itself. Thinking back, it seemed that the ghosts might have been avoiding him, other than Professor Binns of course, but even he didn't stick around and always glided off as soon as his lectures were done.
"I'm sorry, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage." Alex asked the pale, young and deceased woman.
The Grey Lady floated around him as if inspecting him from every side. "We all feel you. You who calls to us so strongly, so POWERFULLY and we are uncertain as to who or what you are."
Alex followed her circular flight as she spoke. "Ah, I think I might understand what you might be talking about." He admitted then closed his eyes for a second and when they opened again, they glowed with an eerie violet light.
The Ravenclaw ghost gasped and fell to her knees. Or as much as an incorporeal ghost can kneel. "My Lord." She breathed reverently.
And she did breathe as here in the presence of a Ghost King she became more than a departed shade of the past. In the glow of his eyes: hints of colour blushed on her silver form and the memory a heartbeat thrummed in her empty chest.
Alex reached out and cupped her cheek, lifting her head to meet his eyes. Her skin felt oddly soft and chill yet not unpleasant. "Rise, Helena of Ravenclaw. Your king requires your service."
Helena, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, ghost of the Castle's blue and bronze students, regained her feet. Feeling for the first time a sense of solidity beneath her that she had not felt since the day she died. At the same time, the spectral wound and silvery blood that decorated her old-fashioned dress closed themselves and evaporated from sight as she felt more… more… alive, was the closest word she could describe the feeling yet it was definitely not some sort of resurrection.
With the ghostly magics flowing through him, Alex acted on instinct more than actual planned thought. He hadn't tapped into or used his Ghost King magics since he arrived at Hogwarts and that was turning out to be an oversight on his part as the school opened up to him on a level that he hadn't known was missing until now.
He could feel the ghosts. Dozens of them. Much more than he even realised were at the school. He could also feel faded remains of others, not ghosts but ghostly imprints of thousands that had passed through the halls of Hogwarts before him. A feeling of curiosity and laughter by the stairs, a depressive gloom in the corner, a lustful burst of adolescence in the classroom on the right. Memories and feelings imprinted on the walls, engrained within the stones of the school from the lives of all those who had called this place home. Even beyond the immediate hallway and classrooms, he could feel the presence of the school itself, an amalgamation of all those whisps of life that pulsed through the walls and explained the odd tingle when he passed through the walls as a phantom. Here was the spirit of Hogwarts, born from the countless lives of all those who gave something of themselves to the school.
Yet, even within this flowing near sentience that pulsed within the castles walls he could feel a taint of foulness. Tracing it back to it's source, his spiritual senses directed his sight to the seventh floor and the black soul fragment that clung to the hidden room like a bad odour. From that fragment he could feel the sympathetic connection leading towards the office of the Defence Professor and the parasitic entity attached to the man's soul.
With a thought, Alex brought up the video feed from the Spectre that was assigned to professor Quirrell. The image showed the man talking to himself and looking around as if nervous or agitated. Voldemort had definitely felt his presence.
Still acting on instinct, Alex raised a finger to his lips and with a thought cut open his bottom lip causing a trickle of ruby red blood to fall down his chin. He stepped up to the pale ghost before him and taking advantage her wide-eyed stunned form, he leant in and pressed his bloody lips against her cold spiritual ones.
Other students had described touching the ghosts of Hogwarts as feeling as if there had been plunged into a bucket of ice-water, mixed with an uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles. Helena's lips in the other hand felt as soft and real as any other women, if perhaps somewhat chill.
Alex pushed on his ghostly magics, sending ripples of violet though the ghost and leaving him oddly drained and eliciting a soft moan from the Ravenclaw ghost. He also, almost as an afterthought, converted some of his blood to ectoplasm and forced that into her mouth with his tongue which provoked a full body shudder from the spirit.
Pulling back, Alex let go of the Ghost King magics and sagged at the feeling of exhaustion that swept through him while Helena simply stood there with glazed eyes though her tongue did dart out to lick the remaining blood and silvery spiritual substance from her lips.
"Well…" Alex breathed heavily. "That happened."
Clarity returned to the ghost's eyes as she regarded Alex with something akin to reverence and, of all things, lust. "My Lord has bestowed upon me a gift."
"Riiight." Alex pretended to know what he had just done. "I'm going to need you to do something for me." He told her.
"Anything, my Lord." Helena purred.
"I need you to watch the room of requirement on the seventh floor and let me know if anyone attempts to enter it. Can you do that?"
"I will guard it most assuredly." Helena eagerly agreed.
"Good. Good, I'm.. er, going to go sleep then." Alex told her while trying to not show that whatever it was that he had just done had tired him out more than he ever expected.
"Sleep well, my Lord." The Grey Lady curtsied then glided up and through the ceiling towards the seventh floor.
Alex watched her go then glanced again at the surveillance of Quirrell who looked to have calmed down and had, thankfully, not left his quarters.
Letting out a deep sigh, Alex resumed his return to the Dormitory while rearranging his plans about holding off on retrieving the Diadem-Horcrux until the spirit of Voldemort had either been captured, destroyed or fled the castle. The connection he had with the spirit of the school had faded when he dropped the Ghost King magic yet the memory of the taint remained.
"I have no fucking idea what just happened." He whispered to himself as he climbed the stairs. He needed to wait for the rest of him to return from talking to Sirius at the Luna Academy before he could do anything. At least recombining would return him some much-needed energy.
As he ascended the stairs, unknown to him, a pair of eyes followed his back and from the empty hallway could be heard a soft and needful moan.
AN: The Writer's block has been in full swing and the motivation to write has been shrivelled and cold. I've been busy with work, being sick (just a bad cold) and reading other fanfictions and QQ stories. Really wanted to write a few more thousand words for this chapter but I really should post what i have.