CHAPTER 15
[Date - REDACTED] - The Shrike's Nest - Ottery St. Catchpole, [Time - REDACTED]
"Would Master like another slice of tart?"
"Maybe later Peachy, thank you. Another cup of coffee perhaps?"
A sharp snap of the elf's fingers saw Saul's cup immediately refill, accompanied by a large steaming pot of the chicory-scented beverage. A small silver tray of sugar cubes alongside a pitcher of fresh creamer appeared. Task complete, Peachy soundlessly disappeared.
Sighing, The Voice reclined back in his chair and savored his favorite repast, enjoying one of the few moments of peace he could afford to have. It helped that it was a lovely day - the sun shone brightly through the open window, the birds chirped delightedly, and the surrounding thorny forests bloomed with the sights and sounds of life.
"It's just your kind of day darling," whispered Saul, staring lovingly at the magical picture of his wife as she smiled and blew him a kiss. He caught it and held it against his heart, causing the blonde witch to beam in delight.
It'd been a little over decade since his beloved wife had died. Orella Croaker (née Ollivander) had been killed in action during a joint reconnaissance task force to Silesia at the request of the Mind Divisions of Der Nebensächlich and Niezauważony - the German and Polish Unspeakables respectively. A foremost Mind Arts expert skilled in the rarest Legilimency (Level 13 Classified), Orella was oft requested to provide 'obscure insight' for the most vexing cases that constituted a threat to public safety.
The Silesian Affair, admittedly, was uniquely unnerving.
People had been disappearing into the Przesieka, a densely forested strip of land in the middle of Silesia that split the land into two halves, spreading from Golden Mountains in the south and reaching the towns of Namysłów and Byczyna in the north. While the muggles had succeeded in destroying a portion in the 12th and 13th centuries as part of resettlement efforts, the magical occupants near the area warded and obscured a considerable amount for a variety of purposes - typically those of the hunting and ritualistic variety. While the advent of the Statute of Secrecy and stricter muggle-baiting laws lessened those activities significantly, there were still a few of the truly devout who…practiced in greater secrecy.
At first, the disappearances had been chalked to unfortunate victims of wizarding cultists venerating the rituals of the olde ways.
But then…the victims - muggle and magical alike - reappeared, minds shredded by insanity.
Those who possessed a shred of coherency had ranted about "visions of endless darkness", monstrous creatures, never-ending cries of "fathomless despair", or, just senseless and jumbled blubbering. Those who were lucky enough were found completely comatose, lapsing into violent screaming seizures when magically awoken.
The Unspeakables had originally believed it to be signs of extreme Cruciatus exposure. When that had been proven false, they posited that some madman was poisoning unsuspecting victims with modified Essence of Insanity. When that had also proven to be false, it was posited that a rogue Dementor had taken refuge in Przesieka, feasting on the misery of its victims.
Like with all the other theories, that had also proven to be equally false.
As such, Orella had been requested and approved to join a seven-member envoy with the German and Polish Unspeakable squadron, intent on investigating the threat at its source.
All had been killed in action.
With difficulty, Saul turned his eyes away from the image of his wife.
It was still too painful to look at her, moreso when he'd broken his promise to protect Pandora.
Their only daughter had never been the same after her mother's death, throwing herself into her research as an Unspeakable for the Division of Material and Immaterial Nonexistence - otherwise known as Death. Little Luna had been their sole respite - the sweetest ray of moonlight to brighten the bleakness.
Unfortunately, tragedy had struck once more.
Pandora had perished in a botched experiment in her makeshift lab at The Rook. Xenophilius had been inconsolable, and it'd taken considerable doses of Draught of Peace and the combined efforts of Messrs X, Y, and Z to pull the man from the precipice of hysteria and grief.
Luna needed her father.
To his enduring shame, Saul had kept his distance from his granddaughter, not able to confront the heart-wrenching emotions that arose from seeing Pandora's mini doppelganger with Orella's penetrating gray eyes. While he occasionally popped into The Rook under a Disillusionment Charm to check in on the child, his preferred method of contact was through the standard birthday and Christmas cards.
Grimacing those distressing memories away, Saul turned his focus on more pressing matters neatly arranged on his desk.
They were the natal charts of the two Time Travelers, their true identities written across the top of each chart in shimmering golden ink. Their astrological synastry - locked in at 79.63% - had been confirmed thrice over Number 6. Their Aeosian synastry was a similar number, the seven interlocked symbols glimmering with a foreboding beauty. These particular sigils had been stricken from record on the advent of the Statute of Secrecy, for reasons known to a select few.
While Saul was optimistic about their relatively high chance of success, that pesky little 20.37% gnawed at him. It meant a 1 in 5 chance that the two would not succeed in whatever it is they needed to do to avert imminent disaster. Even more worrisome was the very real possibility that they would renege on using the Cryptohedron, spelling disaster for them all.
The last time that had occurred, the occupants of the Brain Room had succeeded in staging a coup of Evangeline Orpington's ministerial administration, followed by a series of well-executed schemes that led to Orpington's manipulation of key events in the muggle Crimean War that almost led to Russia's victory.
'Who would've thought Bilius Finbok of all wizards would be the one to save the day?' Saul snorted in spite of himself.
The Voice turned his attention back to the charts. The Earth Sign was very promising - a Taurus Sun, Virgo Moon, and Sagittarius Rising, born in Shrewsbury on the 9th of May 1976 an hour before the stroke of midnight. Her Wild Sign - an Esaors - sat astride the glowing gold form of her Bull zodiac, like a winged torero leading the charge to victory.
This Time Traveler possessed a calm, even-tempered, and self-assured personality, admired by her peers for her resourcefulness and dedication. The Double Earth lent inner and outer stability and confidence, reflected in her ability to counsel others in their time of need. Her chart - coupled with her Hogwarts school record - indicated that she was sharp, analytical, and possessing a penetrating mind. 'Eight OWLs are a definite testament to that.'
Her natal chart represented a realist - there was no room for dreaming and fantasy. Ideas were to be created with utmost attention to detail and executed with exacting precision. Even-temperedness ruled, and coupled with sheer determination and willpower, would make her nigh unstoppable.
The Fire Sign also held a lot of promise - Aries Sun, Virgo Moon, and Scorpio Rising, born on 5th of April in 1982 in Somerset at 9:19PM. Her Wild Sigil - an Ishea - was firmly wrapped around the horns of her Ram Sun Sign, in a manner not unlike a serpent.
This Time Agent was as courageous as she was decisive - the energetic tempestuousness of her Sun was tempered by the meticulousness of her Moon, channeling natural impulsiveness into work and responsibility, usually in matters of the analytical and intellectual. Attention to detail was critical, erring on the side of conservative caution even when the Aries' fire was stoked.
There were other factors that gave Saul a flash of hope.
Their Mercury placements for one. Mercury ruled communication, and as a Fate-marked duo, it was critical that they saw eye-to-eye to ensure the success of their would-be mission.
The Earth Sign's laid in Gemini - Mercury thrived in Gemini, yielding a natural conversationalist that was fast-talking, quick thinking, and highly clever, skillfully capable of talking about any and everything. And talking her way out of any and everything. The Fire Sign's laid in Aries - equal parts straightforward as she was passionate.
They'd compliment each other well.
'But their Ustrean signs…'
Set next to their Aeosian ones, these three symbols thrummed a deep-red color overlaid against the sea-goat image of Capricorn. These symbols suggested a strong probability of a major conflict that could throw the Time Traveler's plans askew, though in what way, Saul wasn't certain.
Even more ironic (if not outright unlucky) was that Capricorn was entailed to Cronus - the Roman god of time.
A sudden buzz-buzz-buzz interrupted Number 2's reverie, alerting him to an incoming call on his charmed mirror, fashioned into a golden locket around his neck. He flipped it open to find the visage of Number 17.
"Yes?" asked Saul brusquely.
"Status update for the Cryptohedron," replied the DoM's Chief Aide. He then gave the Voice a detailed rundown of the next unfurling stage. A terse nod was all he received as Saul recognized the significance of that date and time.
"Thanks." He took note of Number 17's particularly tense expression. "Is there anything else?"
"Um, yes sir. There's a situation with the Blood Pond in the Forest of Dean. " Saul bit back his groan. "A centaur foal wandered off and somehow bypassed the wards and ended up…falling in. Margorian is absolutely furious, this situation is quickly ratcheting above critical. Number 5 has already been dispatched along with a Crisis Response team. However…"
"Understood, I will be at the Blood Pond within five minutes." Saul shut the mirror, before quickly Banishing the natal charts and all his other files into a blood-locked secret drawer.
'Ah shuid hae stuck wi' th' damned Auror track!'
With that cheery thought, The Voice disappeared with a soft pop.
01 September 1993 - Platform 9 ¾ , 10:32AM
"Blimey…Sirius…I don't think…my bones…can handle…any more."
Ignoring his godson's pleas Lord Black continued to squeeze him tight, only letting go when Harry feigned choking.
"Oh c'mon mate, it wasn't that bad!"
"Sirius, you've got at least two-stones on me! I'm just a measly little Third Year with the bones to match!" The older wizard barked out a laugh, causing the two to break down into snickers. As with the previous year, Sirius was in protective hovering godfather mode. This time, Harry could better appreciate the sentiment.
The looming threat of Dementors hung heavily over Wizarding Britain, and the younger Potter could feel the thick tension in the air. Furtive looks over the shoulder, whispered conversations, and an acute sense of poignant fright at the possibility of even crossing paths with one of those loathsome creatures. While the Death Eater escapees were equally worrisome, Harry, predictably, wasn't as bothered by that prospect.
The younger Potter's true concern lay with the effect of the Ultimate Sanction on the general populace. He hadn't missed the looks levied Theo's way when he'd boarded the Express, oscillating between furtive suspicious glances and outright glares of hostility.
Harry made a mental note of every reaction and its corresponding face.
"So…you think Robards and Proudfoot are going to be enough for patrolling the Express?" In her stead as Praetor Maximus, Amelia Bones had mandated Auror presence on the train in case the Death Eater escapees decided to stage a violent ambush.
Sirius sighed. "Yes, I do. They're both very competent and will do what needs to be done to defend you all should the need arise. Gawain…is quite skilled with close-range combat, so being in close quarters shouldn't be an issue for him." His godson had noted the curious lilt of his voice when speaking on Robards, filing that away for later. "I wanted to volunteer along with Rodney, but Bones has us, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Varens going to Ilkley with Shacklebolt as lead. Received a bunch of anonymous reports about sightings of the escapees." Harry quirked a brow. "Citadel Rowle is based in Ilkley, and it was rumored to be a safehouse for the Death Eaters. While Thorfinn is technically MIA and was not one of the escapees, it's still plenty of cause for us Aurors to investigate. In any case, Marcus will be on the Express too, and though it'll be a year before he'll be an official Auror trainee, I think he's got quite the potential. Plus, he can cast the Patronus, and with the Dementors running amuck that can't hurt."
Harry just nodded. He still wasn't able to cast the esoteric charm, and it grated him to no end. Admittedly, he knew the real reason - he was unable to maintain the necessary balance of all-consuming joy and fear. The latter overrode the former, no doubt caused by mother's impending death from that thrice-blasted Scarlet Letter Curse. 'All thanks to James-fucking-Potter.'
The memory of his Boggart-Lily festered deep in his mind, and he wasn't sure if he could ever shake it off long enough to cast a corporeal Patronus.
Blinking those thoughts away, Harry chatted with this godfather for a few more moments, before the two bid each other a hug-filled goodbye.
Harry's Compartment - Hogwarts Express, 1:43PM
Neville felt more relaxed than ever, basking in the hum of surrounding excitement as Ginny regaled their group about her exciting summer spent in the fabled Shamballa. Even Draco seemed engrossed, surprisingly refrained from his usual snide banter with the youngest Weasley.
'Small miracles', thought Neville fondly.
It was nice to be together with his friends, especially after spending the bulk of his summer away on the burgeoning Longbottom mandrake farms in George, South Africa.
Even better was to be back on speaking terms with Harry.
Ever since their tense confrontation on that fateful day in Longbottom Manor, the two had kept their distance from each other. It seemed time (however fleeting) did heal all wounds, because the two had reconciled with each other the week prior in Diagon Alley whilst purchasing their yearly supplies.
The two best friends had each apologized for their part in how the other felt, though Neville noted Harry did not apologize for defending Theo in the heat of the moment. Heir Longbottom had gone as far as to vociferously warn Harry to "do the smart thing and stay away from Theo" because the boy was purportedly "dangerous". Not wanting to incite yet another argument, the younger Potter had simply nodded and let the matter go to rest.
Unbeknownst to Neville, Harry would absolutely not be staying away from Theo, as would the members of his Inner Circle. Whilst indifference to Theo was to be the general strategy employed when in public, they would do their best to aid their friend from the sanctuary of the Lair. Harry had also implored his friends to not let Longbottom know that Theo was staying with him at The Keep. He wouldn't put it past Neville - deep in the unrelenting grip of the Ultimate Sanction - to attempt to show up unannounced to try to oust the poor boy from his only home.
The only snag in their plan was Hermione, who was absolutely adamant about following through with SPAAM (or Society for Prevention of Abuse against All Magicals). Blaise had warned her about being overhanded in her approach to helping Theo, but the Gryffindor insisted that her approach would be to support anyone who would find themselves to be a victim of cruelly abusive magic. She'd told Neville as such when the topic had arisen, who'd been genuinely upset that she would want to do anything that could aid the Outcast.
But Neville wouldn't give up so easily. It was obvious that Hermione was still under the thrall of Theo's past actions within their friend group. He himself had believed the ex-Nott's manipulations with his 'help' with the Remembrall and other such things. But thanks to the Sanction, Neville was convinced he'd finally been able to see the truth of Theo No-Name's true nature. Unseen to him, his Heir's Ring gave a soft thrum in seeming response to his impassioned thoughts.
After all, no father - even one as heinous as Death Eater Tiberius Nott - would ever use the Sanction against Theo unless something was truly rotten with the boy.
'I have to help Hermione see that,' thought Neville fiercely. 'I'll have to make her see reason.'
Theo's Compartment (Three Doors Down from Harry's), 2:32PM
"You're certain you're alright?"
Theo smiled appreciatively at Eurus' question, replying that he was, in fact, perfectly alright.
Hurricane Hermione had passed through about half an hour earlier, oscillating between sweetly fussing over him and chatting a mile a minute about something called SPAAM - which, she insisted, bore no relation to the muggle canned food product. The muggleborn had been surprised by his knowledge of said food item, but a full summer spent in the Evans' household had acclimated him to the deliciously salty canned pork food.
"Your nargles look good, perfectly sedate and content." The ex-Nott quirked a curious brow at Luna's matter-of-fact statement, wondering exactly what the blonde was seeing above his head. From Luna's perspective, Theo's astral beings - which resembled a cluster of wee violet lobalugs - chugged along at their usual sedately gentle pace.
"Um…thank you?"
"You're quite welcome! Thankfully, they're not bothered by all of the hot pink spiky wrackspurts that are practically everywhere." She visibly shuddered. "Sounds like static when switching between stations on the Wizarding Wireless, driving me a bit mad."
Theo's eyes bugged. "Hang on…you can hear them now?!"
Luna nodded cheerily. "When I concentrate hard enough, yes. I can tune it out easily enough, not too much trouble."
"More than likely has to do with magical maturation," said Eurus sagely. "From what I've read about the subject, every year of magical adolescence is marked by an expanding core, which confers a general increase in power, ability, and corresponding skill. Makes sense considering our school curriculum gets more difficult with increased spell difficulty and other such things. It's entirely possible that it may be the same thing with…you know…" She trailed off significantly, not daring to say to the H-word. While Theo's cabin was warded, one could never be too cautious with these things.
"Huh…" Theo cocked his head to the side, nodding after a few moments.
The three friends chatted for some moments about a bevy of other topics, careful not to bring up the topic of the Ultimate Sanction. The two witches had made it clear that they would be fully supporting Theo, even if they had to keep their distance when not ensconced in the safety of the Lair. It helped that Lord Gaunt had successfully convinced the Board of Governors and Headmaster to create separate rooms for all Third Years and above, ensuring that Theo would have complete privacy from anyone who - driven by the magic of the Sanction - would attempt to harm the boy.
Even those not of the Serpents' Nest.
"Well, we've got to scamper off now!" Eurus stood and dusted off her clothes - pale-green linen summer robes embroidered with animated bowtruckles, mokes, and dragonflies. By her side, Luna mimicked her movements.
"Oh," responded Theo curiously. "Where are you two off to?"
"We're meant to meet up with Ginny, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, and a few others in the Ravenclaw side of the train a few doors down. It would seem Padma is a bit of a Wu-Xi-Do guru and Ginny is a bit…eager to continue training."
"Wu-Xi-Do? Really?"
"Yes," replied Eurus. "Have you heard of it?"
Theo nodded. "Professor Evans did some training with Harry and I over the summer, and she incorporated quite a bit of Wu-Xi-Do in her offensive and defensive tactics. She's apparently a 185th Mistress in the Paths of Air and Fire, and a 157th Mistress in the Path of Water."
Eurus looked very impressed. "Similar to my Baba, though he's much more Air-aligned. He's taught quite a bit to my brothers. Yahya's his heir so it's purely for self-defense purposes, and as far as Ahsan's concerned, having in-depth knowledge of a relatively obscure martial arts technique will solidify his chances of being selected for Neznachimoto."
"Nez-what now?!" exclaimed Theo.
"Neznachimoto," repeated Eurus, eyes crinkling in amused delight. "The Imponderable - the Balkan Alliance's version of the Unspeakables. They're believed to be domiciled in Bulgaria, hence their title. Very little is known about them; whatever obscuring magicks they utilize to hide their secrets makes it impossible to even think of them, save the few moments you spend ruminating over their name. Quite a few people have ended up hospitalized with debilitating headaches and nosebleeds for dedicating too much literal thought to the organization's name. Quite effective if you ask me."
Theo could only blink in response at that admittedly macabre statement.
"Would you…would you like to come with us?" asked Luna gently.
The boy froze for a few seconds, mentally chewing the question over.
"Maybe later Luna." The blonde merely sighed, before hugging him goodbye. Eurus repeated the action, squeezing his hand for good measure.
Sighing, Theo turned to stare out at the rolling scenery, having to make due with his own thoughts for the remainder of the trip.
Prefects' Compartment (Two Doors Down and One Across from Theo's), 2:49PM
It took considerable effort for Marcus Flint to not tap his foot in agitation, feeling his nerves starting to ratchet upwards despite his best efforts to remain calm. He'd just completed a quick walkthrough of the Express, pleased to discover that his Homenum Revelio spells had revealed no Death Eater stowaways.
As the sole returning Eighth Year student, he had initially been put out by having to maintain his Prefect duties during his 'Redo Year'. However, the current situation with the Azkaban escapees and Dementor recon horde (a situation borne of his own actions ironically enough), he was happy to be back behind the relative safety of Hogwarts' hallowed halls.
Additionally, retired Chief Auror Scrimgeour would be the DADA Professor, and there was no way in hell Marcus would ever miss such an opportunity to be taught by the legendary Auror. Scrimgeour seemed equally receptive to the young Flint - he'd vouched for Marcus to be an 'unofficial' member of the Auror patrol squad ordered to safeguard the Express from a potential Death Eater attack.
The ex-Chief Auror had also been similarly impressed with Marcus' corporeal Patronus - a robust boar he'd named 'Ironside', in honor of his late great-grandfather.
Looking around the cabin, he was somewhat pleased to see mostly familiar faces. The Head Boy and Head Girl were eagerly chatting amongst themselves, discussing their upcoming NEWT exams. The Gryffindors were doing the same, though Justine Britnell and Nicholas Grimett steered moreso towards their OWLS. The Hufflepuffs were urgently whispering about the Dementor Horde that was meant to be stationed at Hogwarts, horrified at the prospect of being in such close vicinity to those vile creatures. Cedric Diggory looked pointedly ill.
True to form, the Ravenclaws had their heads immersed in books. Even Cho Chang (seated next to Cedric), quietly muttered to herself as she pored over her copy of Trans terminus astra by Oberon Brahe.
Sighing, Marcus turned to Titus Mitchell and Selena Harper, hoping for some more uplifting conversation for the remainder of this journey.
Auror Compartment, 3:27PM
Stretching his legs, Michael Proudfoot groaned in delight at the subtle popping of his joints. He'd just completed one of many rounds to check for would-be Death Eater intruders, immensely pleased to have found none.
A recent Academy graduate, he was really in no mood to kick-start his career by facing off against a squadron of the Dark Lord's most faithful. In his eyes, their recent escape from Azkaban was a testament to the fact that the five convicts ought not be underestimated.
'At least Gawain is here to help even the score.' Proudfoot winced in spite of himself at that thought, pleased that the man was on the opposite end of the train completing his rounds.
Though the Senior Auror was an exceptionally competent wizard, he held a particularly…keen disdain for those he deemed beneath him in all manner of ability and intellect.
Schoolchildren ranked highest on that list.
Still, Gawain had never allowed himself to renege on his duty even if he believed the recipients at hand to be completely undeserving of his help.
'Well…hope that lasts.'
At The Same Time…
Margery Southern cheerily pushed along her sweets trolley as she made her usual round.
The trolley - formally named the Honeydukes Express - carried significantly more chocolate than naught this time around, thanks to the looming threat of the Dementors. While it wouldn't confer the same effect as a well-cast corporeal Patronus in repelling the soul-sucking wraith, it would make the person feel considerably better.
Kindness, after all, was Margery's enduring raison d'être.
The muggleborn witch (Hufflepuff, Class of 1826) had initially desired to be a Healer for St. Mungo's. But she'd soon realized that a talented muggleborn could only get so far in wizarding society without the backing of a powerful family or connections. When she'd discovered in her Sixth Year that she was a muggleborn descended from a line of Squib ancestors, she'd scrounged up the necessary galleons to have an ancestry test performed by the goblins.
Margery had been amazed to discover that she was descended from the Noble House of Brown! While she and then-Heir Chrysanthe Brown had never gotten on at Hogwarts, Margery didn't once let that deter her. In her naïve excitement she'd written to then Acting Lady Aster Brown, eagerly requesting to reconnect with her magical family.
Lady Aster had let it be known, in no uncertain terms, that 'mudblood parvenus' were not welcome in House Brown.
Dejected, Margery had abandoned that path, choosing to explore more realistic options. By some great miracle, her Potions abilities had landed her a position as an Associate Confectioner with Honeydukes Sweetshop. While she enjoyed working in the Manufacturing Kitchens to create the delicious goodies that brought so much joy (and a patent sugar rush), Margery still hadn't been completely satisfied. Thus, it was a no-brainer she'd accepted the role of 'Trolley Witch' when-then Minister Ottaline Gambol had personally asked Patrick Redding to have his top-confectioner fill the position.
As with these things, most who interacted with her never saw her. They only paid attention to the transaction, if that. Granted, there had been a few students across the years who'd ever bothered to notice her. A young Aberforth Dumbledore had spent almost two hours of the journey with her in the Buffet Car as Margery explained the painstaking process for creating Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Tom Riddle was another.
When she'd witnessed the-then Second Year have his very meager lunch Vanished by Cygnus Black in an act of childish cruelty, Margery couldn't stand by and do nothing. Waiting for the cruel bullies to disperse, she'd convinced the worryingly scrawny young boy to accompany her to the Buffet Car, where she'd fed him a delicious and filling meal of a toasted club sandwich with baked potato wedges, accompanied by a generous sample of every chocolate confection she possessed.
The orphaned boy had never forgotten that act of incredible kindness, and had done his best to repay in kind. Tom still sent her a birthday and Christmas card every year, somehow procuring her a copy of the ultra rare (and more or less banned) Great Potion Masters of the Holy Roman Empire for her 135th birthday. When Jeroboam Avery had attempted to force her out of her Hogsmeade flat in an aggressive buyout ploy in 1954, the now Lord Gaunt purchased the entire building, transferring the deed for her flat and two others directly to her, ensuring she would never have to worry about losing her home again.
But alas, Aberforth and Tom were the rarest of exceptions.
As such, it was no surprise that no one - not even the Aurors on board - noticed anything awry with Margery, least of all the tell-tale glaze of Imperius that coated her warm brown eyes.
Of course, none also noticed the strategically-placed Pumpkin Pasties the elderly witch left behind, charmed to resembled the panels of the woods they were magically glued to.
3:53PM
Excusing himself from his assembled friends, Harry quietly made his way to the restroom a few cars up.
Just as he was about to enter the impressive twenty-stall accommodation (courtesy of an extraordinary array of wizard-space charms), Jim Potter ambled out and ran smack dab into his twin.
"Oh! Harry! Didn't see you there mate!" His stone-faced brother quirked a brow at the overly familiar use of 'mate'. While he and Jim had been on relatively neutral terms since the events of their Second Year, they were by no means close.
Still…
"Hello Jim. How…how was your summer?"
Heir Potter looked startled at the polite question but quickly shook it off. "It was good, great really!" And with that, Jim excitedly launched into a rather detailed blurb of his most trip to Shamballa. While the events in the Naga Caves were omitted, the older boy did reveal his Animagery abilities.
"Really?" asked Harry incredulously. For once, he was not being facetious. "Do you know what your form is?"
"Um…no, but I am working on it. Elder Yoo Ri gave me some special tea to help with my meditation." His expression became slightly troubled. "She…she seems to think that I may have…um…well… a snake form." He whispered this bit with very wide eyes that furtively darted about, almost as if he was afraid someone would hear his deepest and darkest secret.
"I…wow." Harry looked genuinely amazed. "Do you know for sure?"
Jim winced. "No, not yet. I should know soon enough. She gave me some…other non-traditional means to help me in my quest."
"Oh, like what?" His elder twin suddenly looked profoundly uncomfortable as he visibly warred with himself. While he would never admit it out loud (unless to really tick the boy off), a part of Harry was rather pleased to have such an open book for a brother.
"Elder Yoo Ri…gave-me-a-rescued snake-for-me-and-Ron-to-talk-to-and-help-us-with-our-Parseltongue!" The entire statement came out in a rushed whisper, causing Harry's eyes to goggle when he finally processed the garbled words.
"You have a pet snake?!" exclaimed Harry. Internally, he was musing on the similarities between himself and his twin, wondering if Selma would be open to making a new friend.
"Blimey Harry, keep your voice down!" He glanced around nervously. "Yes," he replied in a whisper. "I do, and technically, Ron and I have a pet snake. The Weasleys know but they're sworn to not reveal it to anyone, especially my dad." His gaze turned suspicious. "You…you won't tell him, right?"
Just as Harry made to scathingly respond in the negative, a series of impossibly loud and earth-shaking explosions rocked through the entirety of the Hogwarts Express, sending the Potter Twins' world to black.
Around Eight Minutes Later…
A sharp gulp of air signaled Amy Wilkes' return to consciousness.
It was terribly dark and foreboding in the mountainside tunnel.
Her ears were ringing like mad, and one side of her head stung like hell. Reaching up, she winced as her hand brushed against an open gash, dark gray eyes widening at the sight of so much blood on her hand. She was covered in all manner of mangled metal and wood debris coupled with chunks of broken stone masonry, all topped with a noticeably thick layer of black-ish dust.
Blinking in recognition at her dark surroundings as she slowly rose to a sitting position, the witchling unholstered her wand and cast a Lumos. Her expression twisted into horror at the sight before her.
The Hogwarts Express had been blown apart, with several misshapen cars physically disengaged from the track proper. Her compartment currently lacked a roof, pressed in on each side like a malformed accordion. The metal beams that formed the frames of the cushioned seats were set at randomly bent spikes, sharp enough to gauge eyes out.
The cloying stench of thick smoke lingered in the air, and with rising dread Amy realized she could smell the ghastly scent of burned flesh. Amidst the persistent ringing in her ears she could faintly register the sounds of horrified screams in the air as students - slowly regaining consciousness - realized the truly dire situation at hand.
'Merlin's beard, what could have caused this?!'
Looking around her in a panic, she screamed at the sight of her Housemates. Though she was latently amazed at realizing that her car was still somewhat intact, that still didn't prevent her friends from being seriously injured.
Saffron Brown was buried under a mountain of trunks, arms and legs twisted at awkward angles.
Noel Cragg laid crumpled in a corner, a grisly gash marring her neck and bleeding at an alarming rate.
Colin and Dennis were huddled together, buried under a pile of stone and metal rubble. It seemed the explosion had blasted them out of the car proper to land against the wall of the tunnel. Even under the small orb of her Lumos, she could see they'd lost a lot of blood.
With a deep breath, Amy retreated behind her Occlumency shields and braced herself to heal her friends as best as she could until help (hopefully) arrived. She tried not to think of Hermione and Greg, praying to every deity she knew to keep them safe and unharmed.
"Hope the bloody Aurors can do their damned jobs right for once!"
"RENNERVATE!"
Pale green eyes flashed open as Neville Longbottom regained consciousness, widening when they met Draco's blue-tinged gray orbs.
"Good, you're awake." Heir Malfoy's deadpan voice was paired with a perfectly blank expression, indicative of him heavily Occluding. It was necessary, considering the hellscape they were currently trapped within.
"Justin's not breathing."
Neville's head snapped to Draco's at that statement, shuffling around the dust-covered blonde (whose face was also covered in an array of bloody cuts) to peer at their Hufflepuff friend. He blanched at the sight.
Justin had ended up on the floor of their compartment, but it hadn't been a clean fall.
Three of the supporting beams in the chair had impaled his body. One was through his chest, dangerously close to his heart. The other was through his left thigh, and the last was through his right hand, pinning him to rubble covered floor. His Hufflepuff-themed jumper was soaked with his blood, and based on his rapidly whitening pallor, he didn't have much time left.
"I've already used the entirety of my Dittany stash on the wound around his chest as it was the most critical. Per my Biognosis charms, he's lost a considerable amount of blood and unfortunately, I do not have my stash of Blood Replenishers on my person. Left them in our original compartment." The two wizards had come by to visit Justin before their arrival at Hogwarts, with Neville eager to see the preserved samples of hybridized poison ivy plants his mother had succeeded in cultivating.
That desire now seemed very insignificant.
"I can assume we can't move him?" Draco only blinked.
"No, any attempt to move him will exacerbate his injuries and he'll more than likely die. If we can find some way to remove these rods, I can use my Portkeys to send us all to the Malfoy Infirmary."
"Hang on, you have an infirmary in your house?"
A light smirk graced Draco's lips. "Naturally."
Snorting, Neville turned his focus back to Justin as he racked his brain for a possible solution.
"We could try Vanishing the rods?"
Draco ruminated on that suggestion. "That may work for the one in his thigh and hand if we're super careful, but not the one on his chest. Per my diagnostic charm, it's near a major artery and it could easily rupture. He would definitely bleed out."
"Um…we can transfigure the rod in his chest to something else…some preferably something…squishy. It'll be easier to remove and there's a lesser chance of it nicking anything critical."
Draco quietly nodded. "That should work. I believe the incantation we need is Spongify, which should work with a gelatinosis modifier. We can start with the ch-" Heir Malfoy suddenly froze, startling as he felt the powerful and disturbing impression of being covered in icy-cold worms that were burrowing into his mind, deep past the sanctuary of his Occlumency barriers. He jumped at seeing his and Neville's breath condense in icy puffs as a crippling sense of despondence swept through the mangled remains of their compartment.
"Is that-"
The Gryffindor's expression hardened to stone. "Dementors." He bodily placed himself between the rapidly approaching threat and his two friends, brandishing his cherry wand not unlike a knight. "Get started on Justin, I'll take care of this." His Slytherin friend gawked for a beat before hastily beginning his task, never feeling more relieved at seeing an enraged spectral bear than he was in that moment.
"BRACKIUM EMENDO. FERULA."
A grim-face Gawain Robards watched as the humerus bone in his left arm snapped back to form, before it was covered in sterilized bandages.
'Of course the Express gets blown up on the day I have to babysit a bunch of mewling twerps. Of course.' Despite the circumstances the man couldn't resist the urge to sneer, wishing he could be tucked in at his desk logging in patrol reports.
His compartment was fully compressed in on itself, like a crumpled metal ball of paper. With a grunt, Robards waved his 11 ¼ inch black walnut wand, satisfied to see the metal walls unfurl and smooth. Slowly, he stood on shaky legs, groaning at the sound of his knee joints popping as he straightened.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM."
With a flash of silver light, Robards' peregrine falcon Patronus appeared in the air before him. "Go to Director Bones. Tell her Stage Critical, passcode is Gabion-Admiral-Wasp-Alpha-Igloo-November." In a flash, Valr flew off to deliver his message.
Pointing his wand to his neck, the Senior Auror quickly cast Sonorous:
"ATTENTION ALL HOGWARTS STUDENTS! IF YOU ARE HEARING THIS MESSAGE, LISTEN CLOSELY! TO ALL THE UNINJURED: IF YOU HAVE A PORTKEY, PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR SANCTUARY LOCATION. IF YOU ARE CAPABLE OF APPARATING, EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY! AND PREFERABLY NOT TO HOGWARTS, AS THE ANTI-APPARITION WARDS WILL PREVENT YOUR ENTRY! PROCEED TO ST. MUNGO'S ENTRY LOBBY. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SIDE-ALONG! TO THE INJURED: STAY WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TRAVERSE ACROSS ANY OF THE CARS AS IT WILL MORE THAN LIKELY EXACERBATE YOUR INJURIES. REINFORCEMENTS HAVE BEEN SENT FOR AND WILL BE HERE SHORTLY."
Ending the Amplification Charm, Robards was pleased to hear the telltale pops of apparition and Portkeys as some of the students made their exit. Less students meant a lesser chance of there being more injuries incurred, and, more extreme cases, more casualties. A very small part of him winced at the prospect of finding the dead bodies of schoolchildren.
Just as he moved to begin his trek through the ruined train, the stern-faced eagle Patronus of Amelia Bones flashed in.
Naturally, in that exact moment, Gawain Robards registered the sudden drop in temperature web-like patterns of frost formed over the dimly lit tunnel walls and contorted metal of the Express' remains. It was immediately followed by a crushing wave of despondent melancholy that could only come from one thing.
A horde of swarming Dementors.
'Ah, what a lovely end to a delightfully ruined Wednesday.' "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Cher Ami blinked her eyes open, feeling particularly disoriented. Her head throbbed like mad, her mouth tasted like blood and stale ash, and she could feel her left eye rapidly swelling shut. Sharp shooting pains in both legs compounded her abysmal physical state, and the witch belatedly wondered if she'd even be able to walk after all of this was over.
Taking a shuddering breath, she realized her breath came out in thickly condensed puffs, indicating a sharp (and unnatural) decline in temperature. Cher Ami also noticed a creeping sense of terror and despair offset by wailing screams, just as the memories of The Past slowly trickled their way to the forefront of her mind.
Retreating behind her burgeoning Occlumency shields, the witch took in her chaotic surroundings with much sharper eyes.
To her shock, she realized that the unconscious forms of the Potter Twins laid on either side of her, about some three feet away each! Wondering how that could be possible, she soon recalled that she'd run into the Twins when emerging from the Witches' Lavatory, at the exact moment the Express had been blown to high hell.
'Lady Luck please don't fail me now!'
Unholstering her 13 ½ inch English Oak wand, the witch summoned the brothers to her side with a sharp Accio Duo. A series of diagnostic charms revealed they only had minor contusions with a few broken ribs and arm bones that could be easily healed in a much safer location.
Not only that, their wands were still intact and on their persons.
The sudden spike in foreboding cold and the sudden onslaught of hopelessness startled the time-traveling witch. The already dim space turned black, as if the shadows themselves had come alive and were slithering along the rapidly-frosting tunnel walls in its wake. From somewhere in the distance, Cher Ami registered the screams of Anthony Goldstein as he dragged from The Playroom to the hell of the 'rehabilitation camps'.
There was only one cause for such memories reemerging.
And two were rapidly closing in on her and the Potters.
'I don't bloody think so you filthy wretches.'
With that, the Time-Traveler brandished her wand and bellowed "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A flash of bright light poured from her wand, before coalescing into a brilliant Marsh Harrier. With a furious caw the corporeal avian slashed at the form of the Dementors, who screeched in pain as they recoiled from the corporeal bird of prey. Cher Ami continued her onslaught, pouring a considerable bulk of her power into banishing the wraiths far enough to make her escape.
Bearing her bruised wrist revealed her emergency Portkey, a silver bangle perfectly keyed to the outermost boundary of the Hogwarts' ward scheme. Arriving there would immediately alert the Headmaster to their presence, guaranteeing their rescue.
Just as the exhausted witch made to activate the Portkey, she froze at realizing that it would only transport her and one Potter! The load wasn't enough for three passengers, and one would be left behind.
'SHITE!'
Racking her brain for an answer, it gratefully came to her in a flash.
"ACCIO HARRY POTTER'S PORTKEY!"
To her relief, the right cufflink in his collared shirt flew into her open palm. She was right in her guess of the Slytherin Potter being sensible enough to have an emergency means of escape.
Thinking quickly, she initiated an arcane (and highly illegal) method of activating a Portkey she did not know the passkey to. The Time-Traveler nicked Harry's right forefinger with her wand and pressed the bloody digit into the cufflink while whispering "ELECTI DESTINATUM." She could have cried at seeing Harry disappear with a pop.
Feeling unconsciousness and Dementor-induced despair rapidly closing in on her, Cher Ami braced Jim Potter's form close to her battered body and whispered the password, closing her eyes as the Portkey's displacement magic washed over their forms.
'See you on the other side Lady W.'
AN 1: If I NEVER see another Natal Chart again, it will be too soon. It took quite a bit of finagling to get the complimentary pair, so here's hoping it makes sense as it pertains to our Time Travelers.
AN 2: Citadel Rowle will make more cameos in future chapters.
AN 3: Margery Southern is an amalgamation of Margery Mason (HP:GoF) and Jean Southern (HP: PS), the two actresses cast to play the Trolley Witch character in the HP films. There is very limited lore about her save when she was hired and by whom, so most of the details are my creation. I think it's a fairly clever means of invading the Express should one be diabolical enough to desire it. The fallout from this event will be explored in the following chapters.
AN 4: House Brown, while traditionally Gryffindor & Hufflepuff Sorted, are still very much a traditionalist House, and thus abide by concepts of pureblood supremacy. Granted, it's been established in PoS that they don't support the DEs/Voldy's movement (due to suffering casualties in their family), that still doesn't mean they believe muggleborns to be on par with halfbloods to be on par with purebloods. We'll see more on that later.
AN 5: The Portkey Activation spell is entirely of my own creation, and is one of three ways to bypass the magicks of a Portkey. It is considered very illegal, and if discovered, our Time Traveler could get in quite a bit of trouble. But that's if anyone finds out ;)
AN 6: From what I could gather, a Marsh Harrier Patronus signifies quick thinking and smarts, someone who is thoughtful, reflective, and always function from the perspective of 'the big picture'. Level-headedness coupled with friendly warmth characterizes this Patronus form. It is also worth noting that Marsh Harriers went extinct in Britain in the 1800s, and the current population grew from just one pair at the start of the 1970s. There are currently around 600 pairs, and are no longer considered extinct. Lends some additional perspective into who 'Cher Ami' is.
AN 7: If there's any character who is related to Heliopathy-weirdness, it would be an Ollivander LOL. As it stands, Garrick Ollivander is NOT a heliopath, he's just a little...strange.