CHAPTER 18
13 September 1993 - The Lair, 8:51AM
Theo groaned in agitation, lightly banging his head against the massive table. He faintly registered Harry and Blaise snickering, eliciting another groan.
The Silver Trio and Draco Malfoy had spent almost an hour of their free period brainstorming ways to overcome the effects of the Sanction. So far, none had come up with anything Theo would consider useful in his current predicament.
"Are you absolutely certain that the Sanction would survive Tiberius' death?" asked Blaise. "I mean, Nidhogg here did come up with a plan that could render the man into a squib with no memory of his life as a magical, much less the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. Wouldn't any oaths or magical contracts - save an Unbreakable Vow - be rendered null and void?" The krait snickered viciously, the sound curling sinisterly around the Slytherins' ears.
"Unfortunately," said Draco tiredly, "that won't work either. Even if we were able to carry out Nidhogg's plan, Lord Nott's lack of magic wouldn't undo the binding of the Sanction. Its severity is on par with the Unbreakable Vow
"And there's no way to reasonably undo it either?" asked Theo quietly.
Draco sighed, putting more effort into maintaining his mental equilibrium as he fought the increasing desire to snipe at the Outcast. It was getting to near an hour since being in close physical proximity with the boy, and he was starting to feel the Sanction's effects more keenly.
"As far as I'm aware, no." Heir Malfoy leaned back to get a better view of his peers. "After the Sanction went into effect Father and I had a very long and in-depth discussion so I'd be aware of everything it entailed." He felt his Heir Ring give a faint thrum on his right hand. "There are three known means of overcoming this…provision. The first would be marriage. You and your intended partner would have to be over seventeen, and your would-be spouse should preferably be one whose family doesn't have any ties to the Wizengamot. Still, the marriage would have to be approved by the spouse's Head of House."
"That's certainly not an option," snorted Theo. Malfoy rolled his eyes before continuing.
"The second would be the use of the Time-Turner to go back in time to prevent the Sanction from being applied. Time-Turners are stuff of legend, none exist as far as anyone knows. And trust me, if they did, Father would definitely have found a way to get one." The four boys snickered.
"And what's the third option?" asked Blaise.
Draco paused to take a sip of tea. "Adoption into a House of Noble status or higher would work if Theo here held a Life Debt of a House member or was bound by oath magic of similar power. If not, the House in question would also become disdained by the Sanction."
Theo's expression wrinkled curiously.
"What is it?" asked Harry with some intensity. "Did you incur a Life Debt you didn't tell us about?!" Blaise and Draco's eyes widened in tandem.
"Um…maybe? When the train got attacked, my compartment ended up getting 'smushed' into the Prefect's car." His expression wrinkled. "When I came too, so had Marcus. That's…that's how I found out that neither Bobby Lattimer nor Justine Britnell had made it, they…they both died when the explosion happened."
A wave of uncomfortable quiet settled over the room's occupants.
"Because of that Marcus ignored Robards' warning and Portkeyed out with Selena Harper. She was…she was in really bad shape, her blood was everywhere. The minute he left the Dementors were on us almost immediately…Cho, Cedric, and Nicholas were awake but they were pretty injured, and none of them knew how to cast the Patronus charm. The Dementors were swarming and two got so close to me and Cedric and-and…" He violently shuddered as he recalled the terrifying moment of close proximity to those hellish wraiths and all the horrific memories they evoked. Fear-induced paralysis had almost set in when one particularly vivid flashback had filled his mind: his nine-year old self bound to the wall of the Nott dungeons by a Sticking Charm as a drunk Tiberius furiously lashed his back as "deserved punishment for his persistent disobedience!"
Apparently, being found crying in a small alcove by Lord Nott on his mother's death day anniversary constituted having his back nearly flayed off.
"...So, you cast your Patronus and repelled the Dementors?" asked Harry gently.
Theo shook his head to clear it. "Yes…yes that's right. I mean, I was the only one who knew how to cast the Charm and it was a life or death situation. Doesn't that constitute a Life Debt being owed?"
"...Potentially," murmured Harry curiously. "From my reading a Life Debt is incurred when someone saves the life of another at great personal risk - especially the threat of imminent death - , and often, is the only in the position to do so. Meaning if there are any witnesses, none of them was in a position to save the life of the individual in danger, i.e. having both the desire and the means to do so." The younger Potter's expression turned crafty. "It is quite possible that you may have done the impossible and incurred three Life Debts. Simultaneously." A wave of curious murmuring sounded over the Hydra, though none interrupted.
"But that doesn't help in this case does it?" Blaise paused to take a sip of water. "I mean, none of the three Theo saved are of a Noble House or higher, so apart from a personal favor he could potentially call in down the line, I don't know how that helps."
"Hm…not quite," responded Draco. Three pairs of amazed eyes turned to the blonde, who noticeably preened at the attention. "According to Father, Amos Diggory has been running a… 'covert campaign' to gain the necessary Wizengamot support to nominate House Diggory for a Nobledom. It requires four Ancient and Noble Houses and three Noble Houses to bring forth a formal proposal. The Wizengamot would then vote to approve or deny. If Amos can secure seventy-five votes, House Diggory will be officially elevated to a Noble House with Amos as its Lord and Cedric as his Heir Presumptive. He could easily align himself as a Vassal to one of the Ancient and Noble houses that support his bid, eliminating his need to pay House dues and allowing him to retain a considerable amount of his capital. While the Diggorys have never been wealthy in the normal sense, Cedric's mother Tawney is a Fawley by birth and that House has always been tremendously wealthy. I imagine the Diggorys got a huge dowry from that marriage, enough to live very comfortably for the next four generations at least." Three sets of eyes popped at that.
"Well hang on… can't Cedric take over the Fawley Seat?" asked Theo curiously.
"No. According to Father, their House Charter requires that a Fawley Heir be a male magical who can trace his Fawley lineage back for at least four unbroken male ancestors, which immediately eliminates Cedric since his claim is through his mother. Raghnall - Tawny's older brother - is the sole surviving male Fawley who did have a male heir, I believe named Adler. Unfortunately, both he and his mother were…killed in the previous war. There's an Edrea Fawley, but she's not of the mainline family and according to Father, isn't keen on marrying a man. The next viable candidate would be Cedric's grandson, preferably a second-born who would be willing to abandon the Diggory name to take up the Fawley mantle."
Harry chewed over Draco's news. Truth be told, Tom and Severus had discussed Amos' plans during one of their Wizengamot tutoring sessions to prepare Harry in his claim for the Wilkes seat. Both men had stressed that Amos was not to be underestimated; despite his outwardly amiable and charming cheerfulness, the man was as ambitious as he was covetous and could scheme with the best of them.
And he was working to ensure that Cedric would follow in his stead as the living, breathing demonstration of the Diggory power and legacy.
"Do you know which Houses are supporting Amos?" asked Harry curiously.
"Well, House Fawley for starters. They're Ancient and Noble, so that's one out of the way. Raghnall adores Tawny despite his reservations about Amos, so he'll support her by supporting her husband. House Brown - a Noble House - is another; Lady Acacia apparently appreciates Amos' alignment with…erm…traditionalist values and would be willing to support him. Plus, he and Camellia - that's Acacia's daughter-in-law and Lavender's mother - have been close since their Hogwarts years. There were rumors of a potential betrothal between the two, but Diggory wasn't willing to give up his last name. There's also the Ancient and Noble House Doge; per Father Lord Elphias was very good friends with Calloway Diggory - Amos' father. Their friendship was strong enough for Lord Doge to become Amos' godfather."
Brows raised at that revelation.
"Which apparently," continued Draco, "has done a good enough job of winning over Lady Marchbanks. She and Doge have been friends since they were in shortpants, and she likes Amos well enough. Diggory has been schmoozing heavily with Samuel Lord Macmillan, and according to Father the man loves being wined and dined. House Macmillan is Noble, so that brings the grand total to three for Noble, and two for Ancient and Noble. Amos need only secure two more Ancient and Noble Houses to support his cause and he should be good to bring forth the proposal. All he'd need would be their votes and thirty more in the Wizengamot to officially become Noble." Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a languid sip of his orange flower tea with extra honey. 'That Tweak elf really knows his stuff.'
"That's great and all," interjected Theo, "but how does that help me get rid of the Sanction now? Like Draco here said, Amos is still campaigning. There's no guarantee that they will even become Noble, much less adopt me and make the Sanction go away." The urgency and frustration was clear in the boy's tone and expression.
"Don't look a gift Abraxan in the mouth just yet Theo." The Outcast subtly glared at Harry, who smiled back angelically. "If we're right about the Life Debt, you could have a potentially powerful and well-connected ally of sorts who can provide real protection, even if it's in secret to start. In fact…we may even be able to leverage that to getting rid of this Merlin-forsaken Ultimate Sanction to begin with. Such magic shouldn't be allowed to exist, should be ripped from the very fabric of this Reality." Blaise's eyes widened imperceptibly in a momentary panic at those ominously suggestive words, before smoothing his expression in a blink. Unseen to them all, Rajah and Megaera exchanged a significant glance but otherwise remained silent.
"Um…not to rain on any of your parades," interrupted Blaise. "But in order for any of that to work, Cedric would need to acknowledge the Life Debt, if there even is one."
"You leave that to me," replied Harry. Three pairs of eyes gazed at him in varying degrees of surprise.
"Do I even want to know?" Theo's tone was teasing.
"Hm…probably not." Harry cheekily wiggled his eyebrows causing laughter to erupt.
As their chuckling died down, the four Slytherins spent another twenty minutes discussing a few other topics, before Harry noticed the increasingly agitated looks Draco kept shooting Theo's way. Bitterly cursing the Sanction and Tiberius Nott in his mind, Harry quickly wrapped up the conversation, making a point to begin packing up his belongings.
Oddly enough, he noticed that Malfoy remained seated.
"Was there something else, Draco?"
The blonde winced and nodded tightly. "Yes." The Silver Trio exchanged a look at the boy's tense tone. "I've been meaning to discuss this with you since the end of last year, but everything that happened made that impossible." Blue gray orbs bore into Harry's own. "It's very urgent and I'm afraid we are running out of time."
Harry quirked a curious brow, before turning to nod exactly once at Blaise and Theo. The two boys quickly grabbed their belongings and made their exit, though not before throwing concerned looks at the two boys they were leaving behind.
The Prince Claimant resumed his seat across from Heir Malfoy. "Go ahead Draco, tell me everything." Taking a deep breath, the blonde divulged all he could pertaining to the current situation with Greg Goyle Jr., Amy Wilkes, Tiberius Nott, and the latter's sordid plan that involved the former two and their guardians. Along with the other would-be co-conspirators scheming with Lord Nott. Throughout his commentary, an increasingly nervous Draco didn't fail to notice Harry's eyes flashing dangerously, practically burning in Avada green.
Once complete, Heir Malfoy took a long sip of his tea to give Potter the time to process the proverbial pile of shite he'd just unloaded on his metaphorical front-step.
Suddenly, Nidhogg stretched his considerable bulk from his position on the throne to curl around Harry, who had still yet to speak.
"Well young Claimant," hissed the Exemplar of Ruthlessness, enough to make Draco close his eyes in a shudder. "Do you still think it wouldn't be prudent to just KILL THE NOTT SHIT?!"
Care of Magical Creatures, 11:14AM
Though the muddy and isolated paddock wasn't the ideal place for a classroom setting, most of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Third Years were grateful to be as far away from the Forbidden Forest as possible on their first official day of resumed classes. Situated almost 500 feet from the Forest's entrance, the students could breathe a sigh of relief that they wouldn't be in close quarters with the Dementors. The foul creatures hovered some miles away towards the center of the Forest proper, and despite said distance, the faintest touch of their aura whispered through the late morning air.
There was tangible relief when Professor Hagrid had demonstrated his capability for casting a Patronus Charm, impressing the bulk of his class with the glowing form of Patton the porlock. Quite a few of the pureblood students who'd rudely dismissed the half-giant's capability and qualifications for teaching the class (solely on account of his heritage), had been shocked into cooperative silence.
Instructing the students to take out their copies of The Monster Book of Monsters, the CoMC Professor watched with shrewd eyes to ensure they handled the book correctly. Almost all of them did, with one notable exception.
"Miss Brown, is somethin' the matter with yer book?"
The witchling jerked in surprise. "What?! Huh?!"
Hagrid's eyes narrowed. "Did yeh not figger out how to open yer book?"
The witchling shook her head distractedly. "Oh! No, no sir! That's not it at all!" To demonstrate, she held her growling book aloft and tenderly stroked its spine repeatedly, causing it to go slack in her hands as she opened it to the necessary chapter. Nodding approvingly, Hagrid continued on with his lecture for the day's lesson regarding hippogriffs.
Allowing the man's gruff voice to fade to the background, Lavender turned her mind back to her tumultuous thoughts, distractedly stroking her book's spine. Seated next to her was Parvati, who looked worriedly at her best friend for a few moments before returning to her reading.
'Today is least fortuitous as the Waning Crescent traverses through the darkest shadows of Jupiter, marking a poignant reversal of fortune. As the Sun transitions to the second half of its daily odyssey, so will the Moon continue on its adumbral path. When the Sun begins its latter genesis, so will Death descend on swift wings.'
Lavender's daily horoscope rattled through her mind, allowing little else room. Always fascinated by Divination and the more mystic of magical arts, Heir Brown had kept up with her daily horoscope since the tender age of six when a chance glance at her mother's copy of Spellbound had accurately predicted that she'd accidentally shatter her bedroom window. Since then, Lavender had become a true believer. Her suite in Castle Brown was filled with cutouts from the Astro News portion of the Daily Prophet, numerous pages containing her daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly horoscopes. The young witch was also an ardent collector of books pertaining magical astrology, along with a few well-hidden muggle texts Cousin Lemuel brought just for her when visiting from Israel.
As such, it came as no surprise that her usual wan interest in Astronomy was piqued when Professor Sinistra's syllable had indicated that Astrology would be a major topic of study for the year due to its undeniable adjacency to Astronomy-proper. Instead of "making baseless predictions" that was rampant in Divination, Sinistra insisted that their study of Astrology would be heavily dependent on numerological fact and proper scientific rigor that was the norm in Astronomy. To the shock of many Third Years, part of their required reading included The Quibbler - the odd-at-best periodical published by Loony Lovegood's equally loony father. It would seem that despite the bizarre conspiracy theories and downright mad ramblings Xenophilius Lovegood was fond of peddling, The Quibbler contained several contributions from several and surprisingly well-qualified Astronomers, Numerologists, Astrologists, and other such scholastic purveyors of the mystic and philosophical arts.
One such individual was Madame Ingeborg von Höffer - a retired Zhrets who now spent her days as a consulting Astrologer and Astronomer who taught the occasional course or workshop at a magical institution, or alongside a scholastic Master or Mistress training an Apprentice. Madame von Höffer contributed many articles to The Quibbler, a considerable number of which were horoscopes for the known zodiac.
To Lavender's shock, Madame Ingeborg's predictions for her Sun Sign that entire summer had proven frightfully accurate.
The clarity of your reflection will reveal flaws - a horrified Lavender had awoken to discover a cluster of spots on her chin.
Your companion will face a brush with Morbus - she'd discovered a foot sore on her pet rabbit Fiver's hind paw.
A taste of sweetness will be followed by a rush of bitterness - She and Saffron had gotten into a terrible row over the sweet cream puff pastries the former had eaten thinking their cook elf Melia had made them for her, when in fact they'd been for her little sister. The two went almost a week without speaking to each other.
Your daily journey will be fraught with many terrible perils - Madame Ingeborg had even predicted the disaster of the Hogwarts Express, much to Lavender's horrified amazement when she'd been recovering in the Hospital Wing.
As far as Lavender was concerned von Höffer's word was law, and as such, the Lion was convinced that today was the day she would die.
A sudden clap of Hagrid's meaty hands broke the witchling's trance. "Right! As part of yer lesson, I've got a real treat fer yer lot. The best part of learning about creatures is that yer get to be hands-on with them in a… more or less controlled manner. Worry not, I'll be here to help yer lot out!" And with that Hagrid made his way to a small shed situated a few feet from the paddock, escorting out a truly magnificent. Many realized that the sheer size of the creature could only be contained within the shed with the aid of wizardspace charms, which the Professor happily confirmed.
Guiding out the hippogriff (whom he called 'Buckbeak'), Hagrid slowly led the creature to the front of the class, instructing the students to keep a respectful distance. He then gave a brief lecture on the creatures, expanding quite thoroughly on the creature's origins, feeding habits, and other such relevant topics before explaining how to safely approach one. In particular, Hagrid stressed the vital importance of being "polite" and "respectful" because hippogriffs could sense disrespect and even become violent in response to insults despite not being able to truly understand human speech. "They may not get all th' words, but they get intent as well as you and me."
Removing the charmed rope from Buckbeak's neck, the half-giant asked for a volunteer to ride the creature!
Sensibly, most of the class took a step back. All except Jim Potter, who looked around in surprise and confusion as he realized he was now at the front of the group by himself. Eyes narrowing at the rest of the Third Years who looked at him in varying degrees of amusement and consternation (even Ron!), the boy shook off his irritation as he slowly began the process of approaching the hippogriff. The only exception (which he didn't see) was Lavender, who had huddled herself towards the back of the group and was practically latching on to Parvati's arm in a death grip.
"Blimey Lav! What on earth is the matter with you?!" Her friend's eyes darted to and fro as a visible sheen of sweat formed on her forehead.
"What time is it?" she asked urgently. Parvati gawked at her as though she'd sprouted another head. "Seriously, what's the time?!" Realizing that her friend may have been in the grips of an unforeseen crisis, the witch removed her wand - 10 ⅓ inch hazel with unicorn hair - and softly cast "TEMPUS".
"It's 11:59," whispered Parvati as she gestured to the softly glowing numbers. A few of the students around them - mostly Slytherins - gave them odd looks. "There, are you better now?"
"Keep it up!" Parvati's expression twisted in disbelief but she did comply, wondering what the hell could be so urgent that her friend needed a Tempus spell in the middle of class!
At this point, Jim had succeeded in bowing respectfully before the hippogriff respectfully, pleased when Buckbeak bowed back to him. A delighted Hagrid applauded Jim's success (to the scant clapping of a select few students), before marching towards the boy and lifting him off the ground to plant him on the hippogriff's back.
"There, now it's 12:02! Happy now?" To Parvati's shock Lavender looked visibly relieved, before her expression crumpled into disappointment. Just as she made to question her friend, a loud and strange noise erupted from the forest line behind the group.
Lavender whirled around, eyes widening with terror-stricken alarm.
An uncommonly large murder of crows flew from the forest line, casting a dark shadow over the noon sun.
When the Sun begins its latter genesis, so will Death descend on swift wings.'
And with that terrible thought whirring through her mind, Heir Brown screamed at the top of her lungs and immediately took off, startling several of her classmates at that exceedingly bizarre reaction. As Parvarti gawked at the girl, some, like Ron, Greg, and Seamus slapped their hands over their ears at the witchling's screams, who completely ignored everyone's reaction (including Hagrid loudly calling for her to calm down) and ran blindly.
Right into the path of a spooked hippogriff with an equally startled Jim Potter still mounted on his back.
"RAAAAAAWCK!" Buckbeak reared back in alarm as a yelping Jim clung on to his thickly feathered neck, wings spread wide and talons extended to slash defensively at Lavender.
"PROTEGO!"
"AAAAAHH!" Lavender scuttled back in alarm, before realizing that there was a brilliant shield standing between her and an attacking beast! Using the shield as a distraction, Hagrid promptly worked to calm the creature down, lest he tossed Jim clear off his back and seriously injured him.
"ACCIO LAVENDER BROWN!"
In response, the Gryffindor slid through almost thirty feet of muddy soil before coming to a stop in Tracey David's arms, who'd crouched down to cast the spells that'd saved the girl from actual death.
"Blimey witch, have you lost the plot?!"
Lavender gawked for a beat before breaking down into sobs as she clutched at the Slytherin like a lifeline
"You saved my life, thank you! - You saved my life, thank you! - You saved my life, thank you! - You saved my life, thank you! - You saved my life, thank you! - You saved my life, thank you!" Heir Brown repeated the mantra like a prayer, blubbering all over Tracey's robes. The Slytherin patted the girl's back distractedly, looking around at her classmates who all bore varying degrees of scandalized expressions.
"I owe you my life Tracey, thank you!" Lavender's expression was splotched with snot and tears but her tone was fervent, brown eyes burning into Tracey's startled own.
"Hm…sounds like a Life Debt to me." Draco's tone teasing, emphasized by Harry's soft snickering. Neither saw Daphne and Blaise's sharp stares.
"He's right." Lavender's grave tone brought them all up short. "I was foretold that my life would be cut short today." Parvati's eyes goggled as her best friend sniffled piteously. "You stopped that from happening. I owe you a great debt, on my honor as Heir Brown." Several of the purebloods in attendance gawked at that declaration as they understood the depth of significance contained in the Gryffindor's statement.
Tracey could only blink whilst feebly nodding, eyes goggling when the Gryffindor girl hugged her fiercely. "Blimey, looks like my horoscope was right after all."
"WHAT?!" exclaimed Lavender, shock clear across her features.
"Um…yeah, said 'Today was auspicious for averting imminent disaster.' Didn't think much of it really." The Slytherin blushed. "I'm…I've always liked astrology and horoscopes, just a bit of personal fun. Didn't think Astro News would have it right-in-one today." She shrugged nonchalantly, causing Lavender to sputter.
"Morgana's tit! What's your star sign?!"
Tracey looked amused. "Scorpio! Um…what's yours?"
"Cancer!" Lavender choked out a laugh before squeezing Tracey into another fierce hug.
Hidden by a flawlessly applied Disillusionment Charm some feet away from the hubbub, Cher Ami watched the ensuing spectacle, making careful note of the newest development and the corresponding reactions of certain students.
Once she saw Hagrid make his way back with a seemingly shell-shocked Jim Potter, the witch made her exit.
Defense Against the Dark Arts, 1:51PM
Excited murmuring sounded throughout the entire classroom, enough to make Marcus' eyes crinkle a touch in fond amusement.
As the newly minted Teacher's Aide for Professor Scrimgeour, the returning Eighth Year would be assisting the DADA instructor with hands-on in-class demonstrations, specialized workshops for OWL and NEWT-level students, along with helping the man grade papers. While he'd successfully retaken his DADA, Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions O.W.L.s with all 'Exceed Expectations', Marcus was required to take N.E.W.T.s for the same subjects and acquire identical grades. Because his situation was unique, the Headmaster and staff had agreed to allow the sole Eighth Year student an amended schedule to attend only the classes he needed to complete his exams whilst fulfilling the needs of his auxiliary role. In fact, Scrimgeour had agreed to sign off on a form that would grant Marcus 50 Passed Hours for the Auror Academy. Though the number seemed infinitesimal in the face of the 4000 Passed Hours of coursework, conditioning, and field work he was meant to complete in the Auror Academy, it still constituted 50 hours less than he would need to do.
And more importantly, it demonstrated Scrimgeour's faith in him and he was not willing to disappoint the formidable man.
Soon, the new Professor entered the room from his private quarters, rendering the entire class completely silent with one pointed long look.
"Good afternoon, students, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Rufus Scrimgeour, ex-Chief Auror of Wizarding Britain's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If, for whatever reason you do so desire to learn about my personal history, do feel free to ask around as I am completely disinclined to waste my time on biographical frippery. Now, in accordance with the Ministry and ICW guidelines on defensive magic instruction, your Third Year is supposed to focus on recognizing and defending against Class XXX and XXXX creatures, with a brief overview of Class XXXXX creatures at the end of the Spring term. While I will be following that general outline, recent events have led me to incorporate more useful methodologies that will better benefit you.
Firstly, we will spend the next few months covering Dementors in depth. As Hogwarts is currently playing host to about a hundred of these creatures, it is imperative that you know all you can about them to better defeat them. Though they are meant to be congregated in the airspace above the Forbidden Forest and far enough away from the school to ensure that their supernatural properties do not affect the student body…accidents can and have already happened." Uncomfortable silence settled over the class in memory of the disastrous explosion and subsequent Dementor attack on the Hogwarts Express. From the corner of his eye, Ron witnessed Parvati violently shudder at the man's statement, and, in that moment, felt oddly piqued to reach out and comfort her.
"As such," continued the Professor, "you will all receive instruction on defending against Dementors. With that in mind, your first homework assignment will be a report – no less than 18 inches, no more than 26 – on the known characteristics and biology of the Dementor followed by at least three practical strategies for evading or defending against one. Please refer to the section on Page 394 for relevant guidance. In addition, there will be a follow-up workshop and subsequent other workshops led by both myself and Mr. Flint here this coming Sunday and the proceeding Sundays for the remainder of the term." He turned and nodded towards the younger wizard. "In his stead as my Teacher's Aide and his demonstrative capability in casting a corporeal Patronus." Marcus lightly blushed at the appreciative wave of murmuring that rose at the Professor's statement.
"As it stands, he is not the only individual who is capable of casting the Patronus Charm. Mr. Longbottom, I am informed that you are the youngest person on record as having produced a corporeal Patronus. Would you be so good as to demonstrate for the class?"
Neville blushed slightly before standing up and pointing his wand at an open area to the left of the teacher's desk. "EXPECTO PATRONUM." There was a familiar flash of silvery light, and then Elby was there in all his ursine glory. The students who had not seen the bear Patronus before were all suitably amazed (and one or two who were nearest its manifestation were also startled and frightened). The bear sniffed around for danger as he canted around for a bit, before dissipating when there was none to be found.
"Well done, Mr. Longbottom," said the Professor. "Most impressive. Ten points to Gryffindor. However, class, you will be pleased to note that as impressive as this manifestation is, a true corporeal Patronus is not necessary to repel a Dementor. The most basic manifestation of the Charm, a silvery haze sometimes referred to as a mist Patronus, will generally ward off one or two, through the corporeal Patronus is required to fend of more than that or to repel even a single Dementor that is, for some reason, particularly aggressive. Additionally, while the Dementors are here, a chocolate bar will be provided at every meal for each student. For wizards and witches, chocolate serves as an emotional stimulant that instills positive emotions to counteract the aura produced by Dementors which typically causes feelings of depression and a fixation on bad memories. Please eat chocolate in moderation and, of course, always brush your teeth after every meal."
Then, Scrimgeour paused dramatically. "And with that out of the way, let us turn to the second magical danger I wish to discuss that is not normally a part of the Third Year curriculum: dark wizards. And more specifically, Death Eaters. Fitting, considering my predecessor was discovered to be a Death Eater who succeeded in petrifying the majority of the castle's students and its staff." Most of the class shifted uneasily at the mention of the You-Know-Who's servants and the deranged schemes of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Now, take out your quills and parchments. You all have much to learn."
Thankful for his bifurcated thoughtstreams, Harry was able to dedicate the necessary attention to listening to Scrimgeour's unflinchingly blunt lecture on the origins and characteristics of the Death Eater scourge, and note all the reactions to the Professor's candid commentary.
The Gryffindors, as expected, were varying degrees of wary and horrified. His twin was stone-faced, though he flinched at the rather graphic details of standard Death Eater torture routines the DADA Professor described. Ron looked noticeably green, an expression mirrored by Dean, Seamus, and, surprisingly enough, McLaggen. Hermione looked horrified, though to Harry's amusement that didn't stop her from taking copious notes. Alarmingly enough, Harry noticed Neville switching between widening his eyes in horror and shooting patently sharp looks in Theo's direction.
The Slytherins were a mixed bag.
Draco and Theo's faces were perfectly blank, a sign of them heavily occluding. Though he hadn't outright said Harry could imagine that Lucius Malfoy had divulged some key aspects of his time as a Death Eater. Goyle Jr.'s face was in a similar formation, though Harry was convinced that his Death Eater father (like Theo's despicable sire) more than likely bragged and boasted about his horrific exploits with his fellow mad brethren. He suddenly realized that Greg was sitting alone, remembering that Vincent Crabbe had perished in the Express' explosion.
Naturally, that led to the memory of Druscilla Crabbe suffering a nervous breakdown in the Common Room the very night of the rescheduled Sorting Feast, having to be sedated in the Hospital Wing.
"We will spend part of each class this term reviewing the history of the Death Eater movement, from its origins as a counter-reaction to the Muggleborn civil rights movement in the 1950's and 60's to its embrace of anti-Muggle terrorism in the 1970's on to its eventual collapse after the destruction of You-Know-Who in 1981. To facilitate discussion, each student will be assigned a research topic on some facet of the Death Eater movement, whether pertaining to its history, some of its more infamous crimes, or some of its most influential members. These reports will be turned in to me before you leave for Christmas Break and will later be presented orally to the class at some point in the Spring Term. If anyone has any particular interests, please see me outside of class, and if I judge it relevant and broad enough, I may permit you to pursue it as a special project. Otherwise, all project topics will be assigned by me."
With that, he leaned over and tapped the projector reel on his desk thrice, causing a large animated image of docile grindylows to appear on a large white screen that occupied the back wall facing the class. Unbidden, Harry felt a shudder run through his body in reflex as he recalled his near-death attack almost two years prior.
"And now that the interesting portion of today's class is complete, we shall proceed to the far less engaging topic of how to drive away an attacking grindylow by violently snapping its fingers off. Kindly turn back in your textbook to page 4."
Once the lesson had ended and the students filtered out of the room, Harry waited behind to speak with Scrimgeour.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" the man said amiably while shuffling some papers.
"You said, sir, that we could pick our own research topics about the Death Eaters. I… had one in mind, but I think I might need some help in getting the appropriate materials to write a paper on it."
The Professor quirked an intrigued brow. "Oh? What is your proposed topic?"
"The trial of Berith Selwyn," Harry said without preamble.
Scrimgeour paused in the shuffling of notes and turned his full and unrelenting attention to Harry. Though he was confident that he was not being actively legilimized, The younger Potter could keenly feel the very uncomfortable sensation of being scrutinized by a powerful and sharply observant intellect that had spent decades ferreting out hidden truths.
'Rufus Scrimgeour is a natural Inductive Legilimens paired with a powerful abductive intuition, much like you have.' The memory of Tom's voice was less than a whisper in Harry's mind. 'Despite the similarities with your own skills, Scrimgeour carries a distinct lack of the unique emotional perspective you possess. That, coupled with his decades of experience, makes him nigh impervious to any manipulation and makes it considerably easier for him to suss out when someone else is attempting to be manipulative. It's what made him such an exceptional officer of the law. Do tread carefully in his presence.'
It was exceedingly intimidating, bordering on unnerving. After a few seconds of such consideration, Scrimgeour spoke again.
"A provocative topic indeed. And what research materials do you think you require? I seem to recall the Daily Prophet covering that trial quite thoroughly."
That was a blatant lie, as the Prophet had dedicated noticeably less than a page on the entire affair. "Only in summary form, Professor. I thought it would be better to go back to the original source material, so I was hoping you might be able to help me obtain an actual copy of the trial transcript."
The man nodded. "And why me, exactly?"
Harry swallowed despite himself, making sure his shields were tuned up high. "Well, sir, you are the former Chief Auror. I thought you might have some contacts that could make it easier to get a copy of the transcript."
"I might," he said drily. "I find it curious, however, that you would approach me about this instead of say…going to your godfather about this? He has an excellent working relationship with the current Chief Auror, and dare I say Shacklebolt holds Black in higher than he does James Potter."
'Well, so much for obfuscation,' thought Harry ruefully.
"Considering my godfather didn't testify in the Berith Selwyn case because he wasn't the arresting officer, that path of inquiry didn't seem sensible. To add to your point, Shacklebolt and Varens did testify as the arresting aurors. While the former does have a good relationship with my godfather, it doesn't seem…particularly appropriate to request such information utilizing such a… preferential approach. Anyone who contributed a magical affidavit has their identity hidden as required by the rules of the secret Death Eater trials. You may consider it strange, but I find it disturbingly odd that a scion of a powerful and highly influential Ancient and Noble House was able to cast an entire network of Imperius spells against the Lords and Ladies of other influential Wizengamot Houses. For one man to so effectively upend the very foundation of our wizarding government and then be afforded such…largesse to keep his crimes hidden just…doesn't sit well with me in light of the recent Death Eater escapees. History repeating itself and all that." He leveled a significant look in Scrimgeour's direction.
The ex-Chief Auror studied the very intently boy for several seconds more before responding. "Yes. Decidedly so. Very well, Mr. Potter. Consider me ... intrigued. I'll make arrangements for you to get a certified copy of the Selwyn trial transcript."
"Thank you sir," Harry said before turning to leave the room. Halfway to the door, though, Scrimgeour spoke again.
"I do hope the results of your research are fruitful, Mr. Potter and justify whatever effort I expend on your behalf."
'Quid pro quo indeed.' Harry schooled his face into a mask of serenity. "I certainly hope so as well, Professor Scrimgeour. I'll be very grateful for any assistance you can give me." And with that, the Slytherin Potter made his exit.
From his position in the corner closest to Scrimgeour's desk, Marcus Flint felt the keen trickle of sweat wind down his back, feeling uncharacteristically nervous at the conversation he'd just overheard.
'I hope you know what the hell you're doing, Potter.'
Ancient Runes, 4:11PM
After giving an in-depth introduction into her background and her inspiration for pursuing an Ancient Runes Professorship, Professor Bathsheba Babbling launched into the day's lecture.
"Now, let us get to the matter at hand!" Babbling's bright voice rang out, removing a standard 'pointy witch's hat' and placing it atop a marble bust of a surly-looking Samuel Johnson sat upon her desk and some inches away from a sheet-covered object. Once complete, the woman moved to the front of her desk and leaned against it. "The first thing I wish you to know is that the name of this class is a misnomer. While our topic of choice will be 'Ancient Runes' for several years to come, I prefer to think of this class as more of an… 'Introduction to Magical Linguistics.' The magic that you all use for spellwork – wands waved in intricate patterns whilst incantations are spoken aloud – only function as they do because of the runic arrays which undergird every single Charm. Because of the meaning that you instill in wand-waving in ways you yourself thus far do not even understand."
With that, she turned around and removed the sheet that was covering the object on her desk. It was revealed as a Muggle painting depicting a wooden smoking pipe of the kind a tobacco enthusiast would have described as "bent billiard" set against a pale tan background. Beneath the pipe was a quotation in French: Ceci n'est pas une pipe. Babbling turned back to her class.
"So, who here speaks French?" she inquired. Hermione's hand thrust into the air. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"The quotation translates as 'This is not a pipe', a painting by muggle Belgian surrealist artist René Magritte. While it may seem contradictory, it is not a real pipe. One cannot actually put tobacco in it, light it, and smoke it. It's just a representation of a pipe. The artist's point is that the representation of a thing is not the same as the thing itself. It has led to quite a few philosophical debates regarding paralanguage and its overall contribution to the French surrealist movement."
"Succinctly well-said, Miss Granger! Take 10 points to Gryffindor!"
From a row or two back, Harry thought he heard someone snidely mutter "know-it-all" but he couldn't identify the voice and did not wish to turn around while right in front of the teacher. He frowned further upon realizing that Hermione had heard the rude comment, her face falling ever so slightly.
"This," Babbling continued, "is a reproduction of a work called The Treachery of Images. The original presently sits in an American museum. And what Miss Granger eloquently stated – a representation of a thing is not the same as the thing itself – is quite true ... for Muggles. Consider the Summoning Charm. It is a simple spell normally not taught before the Fifth Year but only because of the difficulties of teaching young children how to properly visualize the spell's target and also the potential safety hazards of teaching young students to summon objects from all over the place before they are old enough to appreciate the dangers of ignoring one's surroundings. The incantation is Accio, which translates from the Latin roughly as 'I summon' and the wand movement is quite simple." She paused to draw a diagram of the wand movement into the air. "And yet, if a Muggle stood before us now, pointed even the finest crafted wand from Ollivander's selection, and called out Accio Hat for hours, he could never achieve what I can with even the sloppiest wandwork and a casually muttered "ACCIO HAT."
True to her words, she cast the spell with deliberate sloppiness and was still able to summon her hat from atop Johnson's head. With an equally sloppy wave of her wand, the hat returned to its perch.
"That, students, is what makes the difference between a wizard or witch and a Muggle. The true heart of all our magic derives from one singular ability: We can forge a connection between our ideas and the physical things those ideas represent. I have told you that the word Accio is simply Latin for 'I summon'. The Summoning Charm is one of the oldest Charms still in wide use today, and it dates back to the Roman Republic. But the creators of the spell relied upon more than Latin."
With that, she turned and began writing fiery symbols into the air in front of the class, four in all. "These symbols," she said when finished, "are Akkadian cuneiform, a language dating back thousands of years before Rome. And these specific symbols written in this order represent the information matrix that... well, to greatly simplify things,'explains' to the world why a Summoning Charm should work. And now, watch what happens with, shall we say, a change in perspective."
With that, she slashed her wand in the direction of the cuneiform symbols, and they moved around in the air until they were all in a straight line, with some runes rotating or flipping themselves as they moved. Once they were in place, the four runes that comprised the Summoning Charm were laid on top of each other. And to some of the students' surprise, the image produced by the superimposed runes looked remarkably like the wand movements that accompanied the Accio Charm.
"You see it now, students? The wand movements that accompany this Charm were designed to invoke the ancient Akkadian runes that symbolized the spell to be cast, but in a simplified format. And so it is with all Charms designed to be cast with wands. The wand movements transmit the meaning, the symbology, that underlies the intended effect, a symbology further reinforced by the use of words from a completely different language spoken aloud. With Accio, it is a direct translation of Latin but the word which follows Accio is always uttered in the speaker's native tongue. Other spells use words from other languages or even neologisms – made-up words that invoke the concepts to be made manifest. For example, there is no language in which the words spell Wingardium Leviosa convey any true or logical meaning. The word 'wing' is English and invokes the idea of flight, while arduus and levis are Latin and suggest proudly elevated and light of weight, respectively. The suffix -ium is of Latin origin but in this instance conveys no meaning at all except to imply an object to which a verb action has been applied. In fact, the real reason the suffixes -osa and -ium were added was for arithmantic purposes, specifically to ensure that both words each had four syllables since the number four is conducive to motion-based spells."
Professor Babbling paused to take in her audience. On the front row, the Slytherin Potter, Zabini, Granger, Goldstein, Li, and even Malfoy all seemed to follow her meaning so far (and in fact, Granger and Potter almost seemed slightly bored by the lecture). Further back, Greengrass and Davis followed, if a bit more hesitantly. Otherwise, it was a sea of blank stares. Babbling fought back a sigh. After all, she had years to make them understand one of the most arcane points of magical study.
With that, she launched into her lecture on Arithmancy, Sympathy, Contagion, and Symbology, before ending on Nomenography.
"For some of you, even your very names invoke symbology, although likely in ways you do not understand. Although the practice is dying out, it has been the custom in many old wizarding families to consult with nomenographers – a type of…seer who specializes in the symbology of names – prior to the birth of children to ensure that the name eventually chosen for each newborn child is symbolically important enough to help that child maximize his or her wizarding potential. In the earliest days of Wizarding Britain, many of the old Roman families who founded our society used nomenography to select new surnames for themselves when they formally broke ties with Mother Rome."
She glanced over at Harry. "Potter. A surname associated with creative shaping, appropriate for a family that has produced many skilled at Transfiguration. And, in the days of olde, forged weapons that led many an army to great victory." Harry's brow quirked at that bit of unknown history.
She turned her direction to Malfoy. "Draco. The dragon, meant to invoke the strength and ferocity of the creature for whom the name is entailed." To Harry's amusement, Malfoy shamelessly preened.
Then, she looked farther back. "Greengrass. A surname associated with health, vitality, and life. Combined with Daphne, a Greek nymph with beauty enough to entrance the gods." Daphne blushed slightly at the description.
"Nomenography is a nearly extinct branch of divination, mainly because it is considered ... unfashionable to actively try to shape the destiny of one's own children. That said, my given name is Bathsheba, and I do not think it a coincidence that I eventually married a powerful political figure named David."
She smirked at that bon mot though Anthony Goldstein was the only one to register amusement at her remark, the other students being either more poised or simply unfamiliar with the Old Testament.
"Alright then, who can tell me about the Elder Futhark?"
One Hour and Fifteen Minutes Later…
Sitting behind her desk, Professor Babbling smiled genially at the excited murmuring of her students as they reviewed their lecture notes and outlined course objectives for the remainder of the school year. One was creating a runic array to enchant a non-magical broom to fly…the other would be an end of year project would see the class broken up into teams who would jointly devise a runic array of no less than seven runes (seven being the most arithmantically stable number) that would be used to enchant a mundane object to have a magical effect.
Allowing her eyes to wander, Babbling paused as they landed on Slytherin Potter. The boy was smiling fondly at Hermione Granger as the Gryffindor excitedly chattered on about one of three runic arrays she was planning on creating to sustain unsupported flight. His verdant green eyes shone from behind his stylish wayfarer glasses, gaze focused entirely on his Lion friend. Inky dark hair fell in thick styled waves that grazed the top of his shoulders, with matching coils dusting his forehead in a stylish fringe.
The locks were covering something…
'Hm…he has a scar too, just like his twin.' She tilted her head curiously as her Inner Voice continued on. 'Same spot as his twin brother's…huh…only his isn't a 'V'... it's all…jagged. Why…it looks like it could be a…lightning bolt…'
At that particular conclusion Bathsheba's primary, secondary, tertiary, quaternary, and quinary minds all clicked simultaneously, like five kaleidoscopes sliding into perfect synchronicity.
'Sowilo…'
'The rune of pure power…'
'A perfect depiction of Sowilo…'
'Carved into his head!…'
Time stopped.
Her quinary mind (the deepest and most impregnable) recognized it first, barely having a moment to relay the information to her quaternary mind which would inform the tertiary mind so all three could begin the arduous and critical tasks of protecting the entire structural integrity of Bathsheba's mindscape. As the Observers, all her primary and secondary minds could do was bear witness to that which unfolded before their eyes, the latter more astutely than the former.
Everything seemingly trudged to a crawl as Bathsheba's eyes tunneled in on Harry's scar, like a recorded image being forced to freeze. Her quinary mind began the frantic and terrifying process of rapidly identifying and locking up key memories in unassailable psychic lockboxes and banishing them to the bowels of the senary level of her mindscape - her true sanctum sanctorum. While the action would happen in a seeming blink of an eye, it wasn't fast enough.
Paralyzed in her chair as her vision tunneled onto Harry's scar, Bathsheba felt the spindly cords of Un-Time slowly wind their way around her body, curling rather tightly against her head as she could do nothing else but continue to stare unblinkingly at the Potter boy's scar. The current Reality seemingly bled away as she felt her flesh and the very essence beneath her flesh be pulled…Elsewhere.
Colors faded to an unnatural shades of gray as the world itself seemed to shred into incomprehensible fragments, as though an unseen force was attempting to crawl its way through the proverbial fabric of timespace. Even more horrifying was the sudden and strange discordant hum that came from everywhere and nowhere and slowly increased in volume, as if it were the herald of Something Great-and-Terrible creeping upwards from the chasms between the known boundaries of Existence to consume the one who'd dared to tread into their dominion.
(From his position keeping vigil over the Death Eater escapees in the Longbottom Manor dungeons, Dobby's spindly fingers skipped over the taut strings of his guitar as the supernatural hearing of his inner Lar picked up the preternatural BUUUUZZZZZ that signaled the breach of the current realm-space by the accursed Xa'ligha from the abyss of the Silentless Chasms. At the same time in the Early Warning Office Chime 13 shivered as if preparing to ring, much to the blissful ignorance of Number 30. Within the Forbidden Forest, an agitated Firenze kicked his hind hooves in consternation as he Saw the sky blacken as though the light of the stars had been snuffed out. In Second Year Potions Luna Lovegood froze with her stirrer cocked above a cauldron of Hair-Raising Potion, feeling a most peculiar prickle flick across her mind and flesh. Professor Trelawney jerked out of her late afternoon nap with a sharp intake of breath, her many Inner Voices oscillating between fiendishly whispering and wailing in despair.)
'So-wi-lo…So…wi…lo…So…wiiii…'
Her quinary mind was fighting to strip the very word from her current conscious vocabulary as her Inner Voice was psychically forced to muteness. Through it all the blasphemous hum ratcheted in volume, as though a physical thing attempting to forcefully burrow its way past her skull and devour her mind whole. Original task complete, her fifth mind called upon her fourth mind and together, the two desperately and rapidly erased memories, threw up psychic shields, and re-wove multiple mental pathways, simultaneously instilling subconscious commands for the third and second minds to perform that neither understood while furiously carrying them out.
At the same time, the quinary level created a mental equivalent of blank parchment with a very crude rendition of the rune whose name she would no longer remember as it pertained to Harry Potter. The parchment was folded several times until it resembled no more than a sliver, before it was locked in an impregnable lockbox and banished to the deepest depths of her sixth mind. A Forget-Me-Gnat was implanted in her second mind to ensure that she would remember to write to her fellow conspirator, though the words 'Harry Potter' and 'Sowilo' would not be used.
Tasks complete, all five minds commanded Bathsheba to take a deep centering breath and just relax. A look of serenity settled over her features.
'Honestly, Bathsheba,' her Inner Voice said as though speaking to a silly child. 'You're being ridiculous. That scar doesn't look like any kind of rune.' She gave the mental equivalent of an eye-roll as the felt cords of Un-Time unwind themselves from her body and return back from whence they came. 'It's just a scar. Probably caused by falling masonry or a Quidditch injury or whatever mischief boy-wizards get into, nothing unusual about it at all.' She mentally scoffed, her Inner Voice condescendingly amused. The discordant thrum faded away as colors returned back to the world as Reality reasserted itself. Her tunnel vision diminished and time resumed its current flow, allowing her to bask in the excited bits of conversation from her students who didn't realize that anything was or had been amiss.
Bathsheba's serene expression settled into a beatific smile.
Everything was as it was meant to be.
BRIIINNGGG! - BRIIINNGGG! - BRIIINNGGG!
Her charmed silver bell popped up and merrily rang, signaling the end of class.
"That's all for today's lesson students, thank you for your presence and cooperation! Class dismissed!"
The Following Morning…
S—
He is the one we seek, but I cannot say more. Powerful and terrible forces swirl around him like a maelstrom. Tell your son to proceed with the utmost caution. Do not contact me again about these matters until the Fates deign we meet in person. As with these things, I will remember nothing of these affairs until Time Himself deems it so.
Novissima autem inimica destrucetur mors.
B—
Below the sender's was a sigil of a triangle within a circle and bisected by a vertical line, turned exactly 90 degrees widdershins. Countess Zabini read the letter three times before wadding up the paper and incinerating it with her wand - 12 ½ inch yew with unicorn hair. Her dark brown eyes betrayed nothing of what she thought about the message, but her hand tightly gripped the black and silver medallion bearing a matching sigil hanging from her neck through the fabric of her blouse.
"Poindexter!"
A soft pop announced the arrival of her valet elf, outfitted in a rather fetching three-piece linen suit.
"Kindly take me downstairs." Nodding once, the elf took her hand and popped them into her intended destination before disapparating. She nodded once at Jeeves to relieve him of his vigil, pleased to see the elf pop away.
The current room was massive, a clear indication of ancient wizardspace charms at play. The vaunted ceiling seemed fathomless, stretching and curving in a perfect sphere. Soft illumination of countless stars dusted across Serena's skin, providing the slightest sensation of being touched by the stars themselves. . An ecliptic belt created of enchanted gold encircled the entirety of the ceiling's perimeter. Several arcs were housed, each about thirty degrees long. Twelve of those arcs housed constellations that many would recognize as the known zodiac. The countless others housed several other symbols that were no longer part of the zodiac, their knowledge stricken from all written records with the advent of the Statute of Secrecy.
Smack dab in the middle of the ceiling was a small talisman made to fit in the palm of a hand and placed directly in the center of the ceiling, much like a star in its own right. Its material - a deep golden color - was an amalgamation of pure mithril and orichalcum coated with Goblin gold, rendering it nigh unbreakable and impervious to most destructive magicks.
In fact, if one were to look closely, it very much resembled the Alethiometer housed in the Astrum Crypt deep within the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. It was the same clock-compass hybrid, though this one bore six unique hands pointing to places around the dial. A small hourglass affixed in the middle of the hands was filled with ever-swirling grains of equally golden sand. Instead of the hours or the cardinal directions around the compass there were several little pictures, each of them painted with the finest and slenderest sable brush.
The six hands of this Alethiometer were connected to six glowing gold cords that stretched from their source to connect to seven critical points on a figure suspended mid-air by a unique amalgamation of Levitation and Statis Charms. It was a rather tall woman, seemingly flush with an alien but nonetheless beautiful glow that seemed as though she were bathed in the light of a full moon. Her pale blonde hair swirled around her head like a shroud, occasionally covering the golden cord connected to the crown of her head. Another was affixed between her eyes, as though drawing energy from her very mind. A third coiled around her throat like a serpent. Another flowed directly from the center of her chest, pulsing in time to the unique THUMP-THUMP staccato of her heart. Another flowed from her stomach, in close proximity to the last which curled from her back like the tail of a great feline.
The image this woman projected was altogether so unusual and otherworldly that it hinted at the Divine, so much so that the zealot priests of Dodona would have dropped to their knees in supplication at the sight of her, exalting her being in the honorific hymns taught to them by the Third of the Eldest Gods before she was banished to the Realms of the Wild.
If Saul Croaker had been present, he would have gawked in horrified amazement at the sight of his beloved Orella still alive and breathing (and nigh unchanged by time), though not before blasting Serena Zabini into a million blood-soaked smithereens.
Contrary to his long-held belief, Orella had not perished that fateful day with her joint envoy to the Przesieka. She and the joint forces of the German and Polish Auror forces had been ambushed by a mercenary squad hired by Serena, who'd learned of the envoy after a carnal and wine-soaked night with the Polish Chief Auror. Though he himself hadn't known enough to divulge every single detail of the intended mission, he'd known enough to give Contessa Zabini all the information she needed to ensure her mercenaries would kill the others and acquire the intended target.
An Ethergazer, one blessed by the hands of Fate and Magic to see within and beyond the realms that lie adjacent to the current Reality. As one steeped in the most occult of the Mystic and Divining Arts and personally trained by the most august Zhrets Madame Simza Heron and the Great Kibarbarinik Hiari, Serena required such a resource who could peek beyond the veils that obscured the realms of the Wild, the very places she could never hope to see even if she submitted herself completely to the power of an Ascended Trance. Such a resource would guide her and her associates, the truest of disciples who intended to forge the path Fate could follow as the Goddess shaped their Reality through True Prophecies.
Like her ancestors before her, Serena would serve until the Seventh of the Eldest Gods snuffed the flame of her life and magic.
Slowly approaching Orella, Lady Zabini clutched at her amulet as she stared upward at her would-be prophetess, eyes burning with a most feverish intensity only felt by the most devout of acolytes.
"You were right you know," she whispered, not expecting an answer as Orella had been magically silenced. "When I asked you that day…if Harry Potter was the one we truly seek."
It had been the calamitous day of the Potter Twins' birthday, when ensorcelled Dark toys had wrought murderous havoc on what should have been a fun and joyous occasion. Serena had seen it in the cards, her Inner Voice finely tuned to the subtle art of tarot. When the prospect of disaster had made itself apparent (with the younger Potter as the fulcrum upon which said disaster would occur), the elder Zabini had done the sensible thing and fled with her son.
Upon arrival at her palatial Marseilles estate, she'd ventured down to visit Orella to ask about Harry Potter. The magic of the Ethergazer - conjoined as one with the Alethiometer - had created a perfect representation of ethereal images that flowed in the order similar to a natal chart, causing the facsimiles of the constellations on the ceiling to rearrange themselves in complementary order - both mundane and Wild alike.
Leo in the 8°37', with Azrus (his Wild Sun Sigil) pointed perfectly upwards - forearms interlocked and vertically streamlined. His Aeosian Synastry were two celestial Shaosders interlocked with each other in ouroboros formation. Instead of the singular Ustrean symbol one would expect for one individual, the younger Potter's was three, bound together in a manner that resembled a perfect triangle. If one were to overlap these constellations and turn them exactly 90 degrees widdershins, it would look nearly identical to the amulet hung around Serena's neck.
"We are steadily approaching the precipice, and he will be the one who pushes us over." The portentous weight of her words was suffocating, but only to those who hadn't learned to shoulder the burden. "Goddess Fate will not be denied."
With eyes closed and an unsettling smile stretching across her face Serena dropped to her knees, as though submitting herself to Orella's mercy. Whispered words flowed from her lips in a rush of Latin that seemed to echo all around:
"Cum turri cadit, spes cadit.
Cum tres intra Ouroboros circulos conveniant.
Invocabimus in nomine sedentis in throno serpentis,
et veniet nobis et ambulabit nobiscum usque ad consummationem mundi."
AN 1: Another 10K doozy, my goodness. But I really did enjoy writing this chapter, delved into the mystical and philosophical, and will help lay the expository groundwork for very important themes that will arise in Books 4 & 5. Specifically, themes centered on the Wild Pantheon of the Divine & Dark Wild, bits of which we see in this chapter.
AN 2: If you recall in Book 2, Tom indicated that he did not trust Serena Zabini, and now we see it's with good reason. I thought it personally amusing they would share the same wand wood, albeit different cores (Unicorn hair for Serena, dragon heartstring for Tom). The fact that she kidnapped a Heliopath/Ethergazer to further schemes should indicate how far she's willing to go to "bring forth Fate's will" and set the stage to allow the first Potter Prophecy to pass. While there will be a Maledictus in AD, it won't be Serena. As previously stated, she's cast in PoS & AD as Sophia Loren (think a mix of Boccaccio '70 & The Fall of the Roman Empire).
AN 3: Serena's prayer roughly translates to "When the tower falls, hope falls. When the three come us one to gather within the Ouroboros' circle/coil. We will call on the name of the one sitting on the throne of the serpent, and he will come to us and walk with us until the end of the world." It is directly pulled from Fabian's own mini-prophecy in PoS. There will be no Fabian in AD, since Dementors in this iteration are...called forth. More on that later.
AN 4: As it stands, Tracey will have a Life Debt with House Brown, just as Cedric will owe Theo a Life Debt as well. We'll see how both those play out.
AN 5: An Inner Voice is analogous to an Advocatus Diaboli, with the former more attuned to those steeped in Divination and other such aspects of the Mystic Arts. For instance, Albert Yaxley will be shown to have an Inner Voice that allows him to do...something most Zhrets (aspiring or otherwise) wouldn't be able to do.
AN 6: Madame Ingebord von Höffer is a reference to Höffern, German noblewoman and fortune teller. She became famous in Sweden during the first half of the 18th century, where she has been called the first famous fortune teller in Stockholm who serviced royals, working as a Lady's Companion for Amalia Königsmarck, and delivering 'prophecies' for King Frederick I of Sweden.
AN 7: The role of Orella Croaker will be played by Tilda Swinton in her role as the White Queen in The Chronicles of Narnia.