#originally it was all going to be from an overeager witch
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Knight and Shining Armor
Spooktober Day #7
Fandom: Undertale (Underswap fantasy AU)
Ship: Knight!Swap!Sans & EnchantedArmor!Reader
Warnings: Implied death and possible existential dread (particularly if you get squeamish over the brain in a jar thing).
Word Count: 4,082
@albeitawkwardalliterations
Blue allowed himself a moment of silliness and stuck his tongue out at the pristine reflection in his freshly polished armor plating. A bubbly cyan blue appendage reflected from the metal surface and illuminated his skeletal features pleasingly despite the bright sunshine streaming in through the window. His armor was in top shape, the sun was shining, and his magic was clearly in peak condition. There was simply no better day to go on a quest than this very day.
And he even had a destination in mind!
See, Her Majesty, Queen Toriel, had heard word as of late that there was a region of her kingdom under a great deal of stress. Strange things had been occurring in a dense, isolated forest. Fog regularly rolled through the trees with dizzying effects on the town nearby as though they had drunk themselves silly. Strange creatures could be seen between the trees but never seemed to leave the forest. Horrific sounds echoed far beyond the border of this cursed landscape and terrified the locals. Day and night seemed twisted. The stars moving oddly and the daylight taking on strange but mesmerizing hues.
Obviously, this calls for an investigation!
Led by himself, naturally. His brother wanted to go ahead first, but that lazy magician would take way too long! The people were suffering now! They needed a brave and dashing knight—such as himself—to come in and resolve the situation! Thankfully, the lazy magician would likely be asleep until noon, leaving plenty of time for Blue to make it to the spooky enchanted forest and take care of the problem.
Beaming, Blue cheerfully put on his armor and made his way out of the castle, eagerly waving goodbye to everyone he passed. Some tried to stop and question him but justice waits for no one! Alphys looked like she was about to order him to run laps around the castle but Undyne’s timely arrival impeded such actions.
King Asgore was in the stables, spending time with one of the foals that recently joined them. The massive monster gentle as he brushed the coat encouragingly despite his fine clothing getting dirty with hay. This was hardly unusual. Both the King and Queen sought out quiet, humble activities in their downtime, though usually King Asgore preferred to garden. Queen Toriel must be having a tea party… or perhaps the royal children were? Hard to say without investigating but Blue had plenty to occupy his time as it was!
“Mweh!” Blue leapt onto his trusty steed and rode off, brimming with energy and determination.
After a few hours of riding, the forest in question came into view. Blue understood immediately why the alarm had been raised. It felt… off. Even just looking at it made Blue nervous in a way he barely understood. The trees seemed far too dense to be natural, the shadows long and thick even mere feet into the forest line. Magic hummed in the air even at this distance. Whatever was inside the forest was powerful.
Likely far more powerful than anyone Blue had faced before.
This did not, however, deter him. Far from it, Blue was further invigorated at the challenge he was suddenly presented with. Many foes had underestimated him due to his bright personality and size. All had swiftly learned better. And Blue was sure that this time would be no different!
It did mean he would need to leave his horse behind though, the poor dear was not nearly small enough to maneuver through the trees in a speedy manner. Toby had gotten him through some pretty interesting places, but he refused to be reckless with his friend. Though he’d seen Toby somehow shimmy out of tight spaces this forest was a bit beyond his skills.
Blue would, thankfully, have no such difficulties himself. His boots easily finding traction as he leapt across tangled roots and over thick bushes. Now, he didn’t know exactly what would lie at the center of this magic forest, but he was certain he was up to the challenge of besting it.
Assuming it’s not a sudden, very natural wellspring of magic going haywire. No amount of hammer blows would fix that… Blue gave an uncharacteristic scowl.
If that was the case, he would actually need Honey for it. As lazy as his brother is down to his very bones, he knew his way around magic. There was a reason he was the official Royal Magician, after all. And to his credit, he never slacked on his duties… simply everything else not required of him immediately. How he could stand laying about like he does, Blue couldn’t understand in the slightest. The mere idea of sitting down for longer than a moment made his joints itch.
Blue huffed and fixed his gaze on the rapidly growing spot of light ahead of him. There was definitely something there, though whether or not it’s what he was looking for was another question. Blue rather hoped it was, simply because the prospect of trapsing about the woods for hours searching for something, anything weird was torture. He couldn’t promise not to level a few trees if he was forced to spend more time than necessary under their oppressive shade.
The magic only grew more thick the further in he went, and he knew it was the source of his agitation. Something he needed to keep in mind. He wasn’t a little baby bones anymore! He was a Royal Knight! A title that deserves calm, collected thinking with decisive action!
Blue erupted from the tree line to find himself in front of a massive, sprawling castle. Though clearly aged, the stone walls were still immaculate, ivy climbing in thick curtains up and down the walls. There were several towers and many floors, the castle almost as large as the one he had left that morning at the capital. How anyone had missed it—and how he didn’t see it before entering the forest—boggled his mind. Magic was probably the answer, but Blue was unsatisfied if that was the case.
The castle was clearly mostly abandoned, the gardens overgrown and dotted with wildflowers mixed with Echo and Golden flowers. Something he never would have expected for an entrance to a castle given their typical uses as tea and messages. Condensed balls of magic formed and dissolved in the air, it was so thick. The light casting a rich purple glow as suddenly night began to fall.
Blue knew he had spent a few hours getting here, but he genuinely didn’t think it had taken him the entire day! Another act of magic? But why?
The lights he could excuse as wild magic. It happened in particularly powerful places on it’s own. The odd energy in the forest was also excusable. But to change the very sky?! That was deliberate. Blue paused and considered a field affect could be at play. It would make more sense, really. The magic seemed to mostly be contained to the forest. It was also possible that the roots of the trees had absorbed ambient magic and created a reinforced barrier. That would also explain why it had taken so long for anyone to notice.
Stranger things had happened, really.
Still! There was clearly someone at the center of all this! And Blue intended to find them!
First though, he needed to find a way in… this was a castle… there had to be a front gate somewhere, right?
Hours of attempting to circle the castle, getting stuck in bushes, and discovering all manner of oddly glowing insects led him nowhere. There simply didn’t seem to be any real way in, which was very strange. There had to be some sort of a gate. Who builds a castle without a single entrance for the inhabitants or supplies? At this point, Blue had no other alternative.
He'd have to start demolishing the castle like he’d been itching to do since he got here. All this fuss and not once has he seen anyone!
Not even guard dogs or a dragon at the tippy-top of the towers!
Huffing, Blue slapped his gloves together, rubbing the fine leather between his phalanges. Blue sparks erupted as a glowing blue bone formed under his palms. Humming with magic, Blue threw it in the air and caught it, swinging it in a wide arc as the massive head of his hammer formed. A Gaster Blaster skull biting down on a barrel of sparking magic. Cackling, Blue gave it a few twirls and readied himself.
If he couldn’t find a door in the wall, he’d make one!
Just as he was swinging back his giant hammer, he heard something above him.
“Halt! Who goes there making such a ruckus?” A voice echoed above his head. Blue paused, befuddled for a moment.
Glancing up, Blue spotted a gleaming suit of armor above him, peering down with glowing purple lights illuminating the closed helmet with a plume of white feathers.
Blue couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful armor for a moment. Even several dozen feet above, Blue could see the immaculate engraved detail. Silver lined with curling, delicate gold embellishments, the frame was somewhat bulky but clearly designed for speed. The lights within the dark confines of their helmet flickered briefly.
“…Oh! I am Blue! Royal Knight to Her Majesty, Queen Toriel! I am here to investigate the overflow of magic in the area that has been causing distress to the local community! You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?” Blue asked, nearly yelling in his excitement. The white feather bobbed amicably.
“I suppose I might. Hold a moment, Sir Blue. I shall open the gates for you!”
“Gates? There are gates?!” Blue muttered, whipping his head back and forth trying to see where they were.
There was a shimmer of light on the section of wall before him. Pinpricks of dazzling magic streaming across the stoneface, tracing out the undeniable outline of a door. The gate. The gate he’d been looking for… was completely hidden with magic!?
Blue was in awe as wood shimmered into existence and opened outward before him. It was massive, the thick foliage that had prevented him from investigating too closely before simply shying away and out of the path. The person who had spoken before stood on the opposite side. Just a bit taller than his own brother, they stood with a proper posture Blue couldn’t help but admire.
“Evening, Sir Blue! You spoke of an investigation?” They asked, voice somewhat echoing but cheerful. After a moment, Blue shook himself and focused on the task at hand.
“Yes! Have you not noticed the strange occurrences inside this forest? The magic is so thick they form bubbles just outside your castle walls!” Blue declared.
The person shrugged.
“Can’t say I’ve noticed any of it as strange.” They commented lightly before continuing, “I’ve only been alive for a while… is it… not supposed to be like this all the time?” They asked, pointing up at the sky.
Shimmering greens and pinks playfully spun voluminous clouds above their heads, the afternoon sun quickly fading with a trail of teal blue.
“…No.”
“Oh.” They mumbled. “That’s kind of a shame. I thought it was quite a lovely view myself.” They huffed, feather puffing up indignantly.
Blue blinked, finally dismissing his hammer.
“Wait! Did you say you’ve only been alive for a while?! Y-You… You’re armor?” Blue asked, feeling his magic bubbling in his eyes in excitement. They shrugged, the sound producing only a light, musical clatter of metal rather than the clunky sound it should have been.
“Yeah. It’s been pretty interesting. The castle and forest was already here when I woke up. Nothing really changed since then, so I’m afraid I don’t think I’ll be of much help finding the source of the magic you’re looking for.” They responded. Blue practically vibrated, beaming happily as he skipped forward with a delighted crow of laughter.
“That’s so amazing! I can’t believe it!” Blue declared, “Spontaneous existence is so rare, did you know that?! I’ve only heard of it happening twice before and that was a long time ago! You must have been here for a long time to take in enough magic to come alive!” Blue beamed up at them.
“Oh… That’s pretty impressive I suppose. Mostly, it’s been confusing though.” They shuffled on their feet, “But didn’t you have something else to do besides talk to me?” They asked softly. Blue nodded vigorously, grabbing their metal gauntlet and dashing towards the castle proper.
“Indeed I do, friend! Come along, we’ll look for the source together and you can ask me anything you like!” Blue offered as he pulled them along into the castle, the only illumination the flickers of magic in the air.
“I-If you insist!” They give in to Blue’s energetic and sincere demand as he blindly raced along the corridors, no particular destination in mind.
There was an odd sense of preservation about the castle. The stones that made up the walls and floors were pristine, but bits of moss and grass peaked in through the cracks. Ivy climbed the walls alongside immaculate hanging tapestries depicting abstract scenes. The furniture held not a speck of dust but the odd collection of glowing mushrooms with echo flowers under the chairs. It was haunting and beautiful.
Like all life had fled the premise and nature simply filled it back in, just shy of overtaking it.
Even the bedrooms and dining hall were affected. Beds perfectly made with dainty golden flowers growing from under the blankets. Curtains threaded with vines and tea sets left out with single echo flowers settled daintily inside the cups. Fireplaces were a controlled explosion of wildflowers and grass. The dining hall had plates set out for food but instead had an eclectic collection of plant life thriving. Chairs having their own tiny gardens. It was as though nothing was allowed to breath within these walls. Any sign of vermin like rats or insects completely absent.
There was even a library, the bookshelves blocked by a thick net of vines wrapping over ladders and columns alike. The many volumes obscured behind thick leaves. The more Blue saw, the more unnerved he became. This was… deliberate. Too deliberate.
If the castle had fallen into disrepair on its own there would be more damage. There would be cobwebs and rotting wood. Less perfect structures would begin to crumble. The amount of plants inside would mean a problem with the foundation. But there was none of that here. It wasn’t perfect preservation by any means but… the castle was still being eerily preserved.
Wild magic did not do this.
Deliberate magic could barely do this, and certainly not to this scale.
The towers held no answer. Several were locked tight or just used for storage. One was clearly a craft room at some point, but Blue didn’t sense any real magic lingering, so they left it at that.
There was really only one last place to look.
The dungeons. A castle of this size had to have them.
Blue noticed how his new friend barely spoke a word the entire time despite his generous offer to answer any questions they could think of.
“…Are you sure you want to do that?” They asked, freezing before the door to the dungeons.
Blue looked back at his friend and smiled softly.
“Yes. It feels important. And there’s nowhere else to look.” Blue gently pushed open the door to the dungeon, the thick wood silently opening.
They stepped over another clump of wildflowers before descending the stairs.
In the pitch black, only the light of Blue’s eyes illuminated the way until he summoned a glowing cyan bone to use as a makeshift torch.
There were no flowers down the staircase.
Only empty halls and cold torches and sconces. There were cells, of course. But only a few had flowers inside them. Several had mushroom clumps. But otherwise, there was nothing down here. The air was slightly damp but there wasn’t even a proper amount of mold on the walls. Magic flickered into existence before popping in a shower of light here and there.
Blue knew the source was down here.
And he knew his friend knew it too, even if they didn’t want to think about it for whatever reason.
Past the rows of cells and storage rooms there sat a single, massive iron door. Cracked just a hair rather than shut tight.
Blue felt his friend stay behind as he opened the door.
The room was somewhat small, though with a high ceiling. The crescent moon cutting down into the dark with eerie red light from a window high above. Ivy tumbling down between the bars with echo flowers growing on their stalks. Their ghostly blue glow far too gentle for the intense and unnatural light that showered the room with ambient light the longer blue stood there.
There was a single bed. Humble but undeniably uncomfortable, a bed of purple roses grew over the blanket. Somehow too small and vibrantly alive in a way none of the other flowers were before. Red veins crossed the leaves and lined the petals in soft, pulsing light. Far above him, Blue could hear the echo flowers whisper.
Long, long ago, there was a great kingdom of magic.
Loved by their people, the King and Queen ruled justly.
They had a single heir to the throne, who was equally beloved.
Then the kingdom grew sick.
The land began to die.
The livestock withered.
The people cried out in sorrow.
But there was nothing to be done.
One by one the people fell and never came back up.
The King and Queen searched for a cure.
They petitioned across the land for aid.
But nobody came.
The heir, so young and desperate, searched for a solution too.
They searched long after the King and Queen succumbed.
And they found it.
Too late, too little, and too weak.
Still, they tried.
They went down to the dungeons.
They invited the sickness into their soul.
It withdrew from the land.
It left the animals that once suffered.
Fled from the people that weakened under the strain.
And the Heir fell into a deep sleep.
Sealing the sickness away.
But the spell they cast did not work.
Too late to go back, they slept as their people fell once more.
Bodies withering away like ash and dust.
Leaving flowers in their wake.
The land healed.
But the people?
They suffer no more.
The heir was the last to go, taking the sickness with them.
But they remained still.
The heir was determined to remain.
They would persevere.
Whether they liked it or not…
Time wiped away their pain.
The years their memory.
Washed clean of misery until the day they could wake once more.
Free of fear or famine.
The kingdom forgotten.
Survived by none.
But is the heir truly free?
Or are they trapped like roses to a bush?
Blue stared down at the roses that pulsed with deep, unforgiving magic.
Of course. What else could have done this but a deep, desperate wish?
Blue looked back at his friend, who stared up at the blood red moon.
Smiling, Blue walked confidently up to the rose bush. After a moment of admiring them, he selected the most beautiful one. Plucking it free from it’s confines and removing the thorns, he twirled around and marched back to his friend.
Kneeling, Blue offered the rose with a dazzling smile.
“You should have said something, friend! If I had known I was in the presence of royalty, I would have bowed!” Blue declared, shocking them free from their stupor.
Purple lights flickered and wobbled.
“…I’m not royalty, blue. Get up.” They whispered, their voice thick with emotion.
“Of course, you are!” Blue reassured them, “What else can you be?”
“A failure? Look at what I have done, Blue! Aren’t you… worried? Afraid? Concerned in the least?”
“Nope!” Blue responded instantly. His friend looked down at him, armor trembling visibly.
“I… I can’t help you, you know. I can’t take it back. The magic overcame me. I don’t even remember how I did it.” They sank down to the floor with a certain sort of grace. “This could just be… what happens around me. For all we know, you’ll turn into flowers at any moment now.”
“I won’t.” Blue reassured them. “You don’t have to take back the magic, you know. It’s all really impressive actually! Would be a crying shame!”
“Then what do I do? You came here to investigate it. Make it stop scaring people. What am I… what are we supposed to do?”
“Well getting off the floor would be a good start. I know it’s really clean but it’s still a dungeon, ya know?” Both of them startled at the low, husky voice down the hall. “Should have known you’d run ahead of me, Blue.”
“Honey! Honey, isn’t this castle so impressive?!” Blue beamed happily, twiring the rose in his hand, “Can you believe my friend did all this?”
Honey snorted, offering his hand to Blue’s friend. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted and stood back up on unsteady legs.
“Well, that won’t do. You can’t leave in this state at all, can you?” Honey asked in that soft, worried tone Blue often heard when Honey was worrying over him, ���All tied up in this place, you’d fall apart the minute you leave the tree line.”
“Then what do I do?” they asked softly.
“Let go. This place has stood for long enough. And it’ll keep standing, too. Really good mason work. And the frankly ridiculous amount of magic doesn’t hurt either.” Honey added, plucking the rose from Blue’s hand, observing it for a moment before gently smacking the metal visor with the petals. Carefully, Honey slipped in into the feather plume and watched as delicate vines stretched out, anchoring it in place.
They looked uncertain, swaying on their feet a bit. Eye lights fuzzy and almost gray. They glanced at the echo flowers and the bed of roses.
After a long moment, they nodded, sighing softly with a small hiccup.
Kindly, Blue took their hand as Honey took the other.
“C’mon… we’re right here with you.” Blue reassured them. “Queen Toriel would love to meet you, you know! Oh! And we can see the sky together too on the way! Not that this isn’t pretty but I think you’ll find the normal stars just as enchanting!”
“It is a lovely night out from beyond the forest…” Honey’s voice rumbled as they gently lead the way out of the dungeons.
Lights and magic flickered in the air with increasing frequency as they made their way up the stairs and down the halls. Past the many flowers that littered the hallways and rooms. Blue’s friend cried a little, as they went, but neither Blue nor Honey deigned to comment.
It was time to move on.
As they exited the castle the lights shimmered purple and lazily flew up towards the sky. Sticking against the red haze over the land and dissolving, revealing bits and pieces of the true sky beyond them. As Blue suspected before, there was an area of effect occurring here. Shielding and encasing the land in equal measure from everything. Even time.
Blue felt a thrum of pride swell in his ribcage as they gasped, beholding the true beauty of the sky for the first time in a very, very long time. The stars a glimmering net of light against the cosmos with a full moon beaming down on them with a cool, blue light.
The gardens and forest seemed to shrink in the natural light until they could comfortably be called ‘overgrown’. No longer the dense, almost unwelcoming place it had been before.
Faint afterimages of people swirled around them, dancing together before dissolving with laughter. An older couple stood in the doorway, gazing at them in contentment. They too, disappeared as a soft breeze swept through the courtyard.
Blue felt his hand being squeezed and glanced over at his friend.
“…Thank you…” They whispered.
Blue beamed and laughed.
“Mweh-heh-heh~! Anything for a friend!” Blue declared, blushing as bright blue dots scattered over his nasal cavity and cheekbones. And he meant it too.
He knew this was going to be a fun quest when he left the castle this morning!
#underswap#spooktober#underswap blue#reader insert#sort of#not from your POV though#ended a tad more tragic than intended cause I cut out the antagonist idea early on#also a little shorter as a result#hopefully enough spooky vibes for the season#and existential dread#bittersweet#originally it was all going to be from an overeager witch#but spooky haunted castle won out in the end#feeling a little soft writing for undertale again ngl#hope this was alright#sfw
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Hogwarts uni AU: Draught of Peace
Chapter 2: Draught of Peace. Chapter 1 here.
Pairing: Severus Snape x oc Minoes.
Summary: University life continues. A mishap on Jasmine's part messes up what should have been a wonderful Potion's class, and Minoes' has trouble with a persistant migraine. Jasmine belongs to @devil-doll13, Scarlet belongs to @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better.
Warnings: none.
Word count: 4255
Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers.
Tuesday.
I could just feel the time of my menstruation approaching. The morning started a little earlier, with how early I was to bed the night before, and I took my time getting ready. Layers of myself; spider necklace, strings and strings of beads, clinking together faithfully, the same braid I slept in pinned up again. I cast a similar spell as the one I used last night, to make little stars glimmer in my hair. They won’t last all day, but that’s alright. The headscarf of choice today is the deep blue one with the forget-me-nots.
At the breakfast table, I sank down next to Scarlet, who sat by herself, reading a book. I pulled down the scarf as I reached the table – it’s something for in the hallways and outside, but not during lectures or meals.
“Good morning,” I greet as I sit down. They closed their book, checking the page number to remember later. Must’ve ran out of bookmarks.
“Morning. You greet me as if we haven’t seen each other as soon as we woke up,” she said.
“Hmm, I thought it’d be impolite not to say anything. How did you sleep?”
“Decent,” was all they said and I helped myself to one of the cereals on the table.
“You know,” I started absentmindedly, “it’s all fun with the house colours and the robes and all, but I can’t help but think we got unlucky.”
Scarlet hummed noncommittally.
“Green doesn’t look good on me. It clashes with almost every other colour besides the usual colours that match with everything. Don’t get me wrong, I also wear black all the time, but look how pretty this scarf is.”
“Forget-me-nots,” they affirmed, with a short nod.
“Yeah. And it’s blue. With this green? I hate it.”
“Then don’t wear it. I like green.”
“That’d feel like losing. It’s windy, I need the scarf for when I go to Herbology, ” I grumbled, then I realised I’d have to eat quick to get some food in me before breakfast is over. “I have Art now, gotta run, see you, Scarlet!”
Wizardly Art, taught by the wonderful teacher, Professor De Smet, all the way from Belgium, who greeted us with a large projection of Witches on the Sabbath (1878) by Spanish painter Luis Ricardo Falero.
“Who of you knows this painting?”
Like the overeager art school ho, I raised my hand instantly. He pointed at me to let me know to go ahead. “Witches during the Sabbath.”
“Very good,” and he clicked to the next slide, showing my minute mistake in title, and more information about the artwork. “Falero is one of those painters famed in the muggle world for his female nudes, but who has made a very different art that he kept for fellow wizards only. Now some of his works are in private galleries of some large pureblood families, or in the homes of descendants of his family.”
Dipping my quill in the ink, I took notes eagerly. The slides switched to one of his magical artworks; a beautiful female nude, with her holding a wand, posing coquettishly. Professor De Smet continued.
“Originally taught in Paris, student of the similarly well-known painter Gabriel Ferrier, he devoted himself to the arts after failed experiments in the sciences. Yes, this man was one of those who seemed to want to do it all. Now, you may be wondering; how did he get away with his portrayal of witches in the manner he did?”
Art flew by and I hurried to the greenhouses for Herbology after. Neville greeted me, and I sat down next to him. The last seat. He must’ve saved it for me. I smiled gratefully at him.
“Nice of you to join us, as well,” said Professor Sprout about my tardiness. Untying my scarf and getting my quill out, I tried looking in Neville’s book to see the subject of the day.
“Sopophorous plant,” whispered Neville, leaning in so closely that we bumped heads as I righted myself with book in hand. “Damn, ouch!” he hissed quietly, rubbing his forehead.
Sprout sent us a stern look, hands on her hips.
“Ahem. If the two lovebirds back there could pay attention, that’d be great,” she said, lips pursed. I elbowed Neville to pay attention and he did, sheepishly. Gods, let this be a good year and not let me fail Herbology.
I met up with Scarlet during lunch.
“I saw on the notice board that duelling is tonight, are you joining again this year?”
Scarlets face brightened up by the mention of her favourite after class activity. “I am.”
We both stared out at the lunch table. Eventually I plucked a hot cross bun from one of the plates.
“You miss the food back home?” I asked. They helped themselves to something, and poured a glass of pumpkin juice.
“You know it,” she chuckled. “Dinners are really good though, just not the bread.”
“I may ask my parents to send some,” I said, thinking aloud. “They probably have enough going on, though.”
“Hey Minoes, hey Scarlet,” said a familiar voice. Anatoli, who climbed over the bench to sit next to me. I scooted over to make room, smiling at him.
“Hey! I missed you during Art just now. I though you were also taking it this year?”
“I am – just had a thing with the…” he pointed over his shoulder, letting his voice trail off, and shrugged. “We have Ethics after this, though.”
“Can’t wait,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. Then I checked with Scarlet, who hadn’t said a word. A little suspicious of a new face perhaps. She didn’t know which of the Slytherins was nice and which would call her a slur to her face, after all. “Scarlet, this is Anatoli, my dear friend from Ethics.”
They exchanged polite greetings, but it felt like it was little use. At least I tried. Anatoli seemed eager to talk with just me, so I left it.
“What did I miss in Art?”
After the most boring Ethics class, it was finally time to retire. I was tired from having people around me, and left my headscarf on during dinner to relieve at least some of the noise of the Great Hall. After eating, the library was my sanctuary. Thankfully that one alcove I inhabited during the previous year was empty and I settled down to get a good start at the various assignments for the different classes. Something about uses of lavender for Potions, the ethics of Plato and how to apply them to the use of love and hate potions for Ethics, a study of one artwork of own choosing by Falero for Art, and for Herbology… well. A disaster. I’ll have to find Neville tomorrow.
As I penned down the different uses of lavender, making sure to include information on how the methods to prepare them effect their workings, my mind kept wandering off to the Potion’s class. Just the smell of the classroom was enough to make me yearn for the Professor. My father was proud when he heard about my good grades in Potions, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was because Professor Snape is just a really good teacher. He has this way of explaining things during lectures that just make them stick in my brain. And unlike the other teachers, who waved me off when I came to them with difficult questions, sighing and rolling their eyes, he actually took me seriously. Not only that; he only gave cryptic answers, which forced me to find the solution on my own – which is incredible. To him it all seems to come so naturally…
Images of him crushing up hellebore petals, beautiful bony hands measuring the ingredients, testing the temperature with a wet finger to the side of the cauldron, his at ease expression as he stirred – then looked up and met my eyes… A single moment last year that still was impossible to forget.
I slammed my book closed. Nevermind. Better continue tomorrow, if all my brain wants to do is daydream.
Retreated back to the Slytherin common room after the library closed for the night. My second night at Hogwarts and I was already going back so late… The lack of students in the halls brought me peace. The tall windows of the common room, looking out over the dark lake calmed me. It’s so dark and serene out there. Barely anyone was left, just some smaller groups of students, quietly chatting or reading amongst themselves. I stood so close to the window that I could feel the cold seep through the glass and stared at the underwater vegetation swaying gently in the stream.
Wednesday.
Terrible headache. The blood started, too. A rainy day; black wool headscarf with roses and the nice fringe. Changed the spider necklace for the sun and moon one, then layered on the strings of beads, the lipstick, enchanted Saturn earrings, the rest of me. Black blouse, velvet skirt. During breakfast, I finished writing a letter to a friend back home.
I was glad to spot Jasmine during Charms, sitting somewhere near the front of the class. Scarlet had found her before I did, and sat on her other side. Both greeted me.
“I dearly hope the assignment was for next week,” I mumbled, as I sit down next to her.
“Yeah, it is,” she nodded, kindly smiling.
“How is Peaches settling in?”
She perked up at mention of her dear cat. “Quite well! She misses me now that I leave her alone for most of the day, but she adjusts quite well.”
Class came to an end, and I finished by writing a reminder to do the assignment before Monday.
“Where do you usually study?” I asked Jasmine as she pushed her book into her bag, the quill in a separate compartment.
“Common room or library. There are some spots that are quite nice in there. How about you two?”
“Library, but in the dorms as well. I like the view of the lake,” said Scarlet. “The couches are more comfortable than the wooden chairs in the library.”
“There’s this little alcove that I like in the library, but there’s plenty spots quiet enough for me. Maybe we could meet up and study together sometime,” I proposed. Both of them nodded.
“Could be fun. Always good to feel less alone.”
“Bring Peaches,” I grinned, and our paths parted.
After classes, I worked on assignments, and after finishing some on time, I made my way up to the Astronomy tower to see Hannah Theresa. Giving her treats and pets, she was happy to see me. Finally, after a nice time enjoying the view, I gave her the letter I wrote during breakfast and watched her fly off. Magnificent creature.
Thursday.
Terrible migraine persisted. Ran out of potions for it. Made a mental note to stop by the Potion’s classroom or Professor Snape’s office to ask if I could make myself some. Put on the layers of me like zipping up a difficult theatre costume. Realised that it would soon be done with the summer weather, so I choose a my nice, yet not so warm, sheer spiderweb lace shirt instead of a blouse. Back to the spider necklace, to fit with the theme. Perhaps I should tinker around and find a spell to get artificial spiderwebs in my hair. It’d be cute.
“Good morning, Scarlet,” I greeted, seeing we were both awake at the same time.
“Morning,” they said, rubbing their eyes before lowering their glasses.
What classes are on today? Alchemy, Potions and Ethics. The black wool scarf from yesterday was too precious to get messed up with alchemy and potion fumes, so I choose the another black one, a nice cotton blend with soft coloured hydrangea. Hair pinned up so nothing could fall into a cauldron by accident. The ritual of it calmed me down. I was buzzing with excitement to see Professor Snape again.
Alchemy was everything but a breeze, but nothing could beat my good mood. Even Scarlet noticed it, as we walked to the dungeons.
“You’re so cheerful today,” they remarked. “Is it because of the particular class we’re heading to now?”
“Hmm, maybe. Did wake up with a terrible headache, though.”
“You should see Madam Pomfrey. She’s a great help.”
“I’ll think on it. My dad helped me a lot over the summer and we finally made a recipe that actually helps with the specific type of migraine I get.”
“You’re just saying that because you want to spend more time hanging around Snape.”
Ah. Ouch. “That’s really mean and not true, actually,” I said, keeping my tone flat. We reached the classroom and were joined by our favourite Ravenclaw friend. “Hey Jasmine.”
“Time for Potions again,” she said, looking dejected.
“It’s not too bad. We’ll help you, if you want? Let’s meet up in the library when we can and we will help,” I said.
We entered. Draco jeered at Scarlet, but the Professor’s entrance ended that quickly, thank goodness.
“Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace,” he started, “a potion meant to calm the mind and relieve anxieties.”
My heart surged at the sound of his voice. I was glad there was this large, safe distance between us. Glad to know I could admire him from afar, to feel inspired by his mastery of the art of Potions, to push myself to greater things hoping for only the smallest bit of praise… Oh right, we need ingredients.
As we started with preparing what we needed, Scarlet leant to me.
“What is Malfoy’s problem today?” they hissed.
“Maybe a fly died in his pumpkin juice this morning.”
Starting the potion, I used the bottom of the mortar to do the heavy lifting of crushing the ingredients, trying my best not to make a lot of noise as I slammed it down to break the unicorn horn and the moonstones.
“Miss Vleerebosch, is that how we crush porcupine quills now?” His voice so close to my ear made me jolt. I looked back to see him examining my work station with one eyebrow raised. Displeasure was written all over his face and I sighed.
“It’s quicker, Professor.”
But he already moved on to Jasmine’s cauldron. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the headache away.
“And what have we here? Tell me, Miss Daly,” his voice was different now, more than just displeased. “Precisely where in your textbook does it specify that your potion should look like an oil spill?”
Ouch. I glanced at Jasmine to check if she was okay, but my cauldron bubbled dangerously, so I quickly moved to lower the head and add the two drops of hellebore syrup. All the while, Professor Snape continued lecturing poor Jasmine. She already had it tough in Potions…
A bang made me look up, only to see that Snape’s robe caught fire, and a stunned Jasmine standing there, wand in hand.
“What,” he spat through gritted teeth. He looked mortified. “Exactly did you just do!?”
Jasmine fumbled over her words, eventually settling on: ““Well I just- Sir, you’re, um, very flammable, and…”
Flammable? What a mess. Having caught the attention of the entire classroom, the Gryffindor didn’t hide their joy at seeing the hated professor on fire. Shocked as I was, the absurdity of it all made me laugh awkwardly. The Slytherins weren’t any better, snickering quietly, forgetting all about their potions.
Another loud clatter, and Finnigan’s cauldron fell of the table, spilling its boiling contents all over the floor.
Still on fire, Professor Snape seethed with rage, not doing anything to extinguish himself. Merlin, what do I do?
Deciding to risk it, I cast a spell to summon water, pointing it at him. It worked, and the flames went out. I breathed. The smell of smoke lingered.
“Mr Finnigan!” Snape snapped, whirling around to face Seamus. His clothes were so badly damaged they fell to the floor. “That’s twenty points from Gryffindor, and a failing grade!”
Finnigan’s laughter died down quickly, as did the rest of the class. The spell was broken. Laughter made way for apprehension and fear.
Seeing the hot orange liquid bubbling dangerously on the floor, another disaster waiting to happen, I said, frowning: “Clean that up, Finnigan. Before it ignites!”
“Oh, right!”
Seamus scrambled to clean it up himself, but Scarlet was quicker and did it for him: “Scourgify!”
I shook my head, and took over Jasmine’s potion as that didn’t look too good either. Professor Snape’s fury had her shaking in her boots. What a mess.
Needless to say, class ended quickly and terribly.
After lunch, I studied a bit in the library, before Ethics started. The cramps were setting in fully now, and conjuring up a hot water bottle just didn’t cut it. Not to speak of the migraines. It was scary to think of the mood Snape would be in, but perhaps I really should stop by the dungeons. Before I ruin my grades this early because I can’t focus past the pain.
Ethics was suffering, but I tried my best to make the most of it with Dana and Anatoli. I hoped they couldn’t tell that I wasn’t in it. The first of the gossip about what happened during Potions already circulated in the classroom and the hallways. Setting fire to a teacher would have the school lively with whispers, let alone that teacher being Professor Snape. I felt bad for him. After class, we chatted while walking back to the common room.
“I heard your crush on Snape has ended,” said Dana, stretching after the lecture was over. I dropped my book and quill in my bag, hoping the notes I took were good enough to revise later.
“Who told you that?”
“Is it true?” Anatoli perked up.
Dana nodded eagerly and got up to walk out of the classroom. “She had a summer fling!”
I rolled my eyes. Better play along. We entered the hallway. “Let’s discuss this in the dorms at least,” I proposed. They agreed. Once we were in the common room, the subject immediately shifted back to me, unfortunately.
“So tell us about your summer lover,” pushed Anatoli.
“Alright, alright,” I held up my hands in mock surrender. “He studied philosophy with me when I went to muggle university, he only listens to Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan and he played guitar for me, and we went star gazing a lot. That enough?”
“Who are they?” asked Dana, and I remembered she wouldn’t be familiar with muggle artists. We found our familiar seats on the couches by one of the fireplaces.
“Muggle musicians,” and I quickly made some comparisons to some artists that she would know. “Essentially a romantic soul.”
Dana looked at me, her expression serious. “You dated a muggle?”
“Hm?” I frowned. “Sure did. Liked him a whole lot, too.”
“I knew you studied at a muggle university before this, but…” her voice trailed off, eyes shifting everywhere but to me. I looked at her sharply, glad she didn’t look at me or I’d frighten her. Anatoli laid a warm hand on my knee for a brief second.
“What do you mean?” I encouraged her, voice betraying nothing but curiosity.
“Didn’t think you’d enjoy being with one. Since, you know. You’re a witch. It’s not… It must be hard.” She changed her posture, growing uncomfortable.
“It was pretty fun, actually,” I chuckled. “We still write letters sometimes.”
Then she looked at me, sudden and unexpected. “I just wouldn’t want you to settle for someone like him, when there’s so many good wizards out there to choose from.”
What a diplomatic answer. Very telling, but diplomatic.
“Thank you for looking out for me,” I said, and decided to end it with a joke: “Love hardly feels like choice, or I’d never have liked Professor Snape.”
That lightened the mood, and both of them laughed softly.
“Well, good wizard or not, I hardly think he’s a suitable lover for anyone,” Anatoli chuckled.
“Every pot has a lid!” I said cheerfully. “But I have to go, I should borrow a book for Herbology before I forget about it again. Bye, see you at dinner!”
With that disaster averted, and making a quick note in my dairy to not trust Dana too much, I gathered all the courage I could find until I stood in front of the Potion’s classroom. After knocking and hearing a gruff ‘come in’, I entered. Professor Snape stood by the shelves that lined the walls, tinkering with bottles of ingredients.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” I greeted, and closed the door behind me. “Are you… alright? That was quite the situation earlier.”
There were no traces of what happened anywhere. Good. The look Professor Snape gave me as I came closer was the most hateful look I’ve ever seen him wear. It shocked me, felt like my heart froze over.
“What do you hope to accomplish by asking that?” He looked like a wounded animal.
“I worry,” was all I could think to say. “Is it forbidden to care?”
“I don’t need your pity!” He moved towards me, towering and casting frightful shadows across the walls. When he reached me, my eyes widened in shock, he gripped me by the shoulders and pushed me to the door.
“Professor-“
“Get out! Get out!”
The door slammed in my face. Fuck. What now? Jesus Christ. Another sharp stab of pain pounded through my temples. Ok. Fuck it. I knocked rapidly on the door.
“Get away!”
I kept knocking urgently. “I came to brew a potion! Let me at least use the supplies!”
No answer. My knuckles hurt by now, but nothing beats the migraine. Then the door swung open, so unexpectedly that I almost lost my balance. He jerked me inside by a sharp grip on my arm. The door locked behind me.
“At least do it in silence,” he hissed, his eyes shooting fire. I nodded, keeping quiet, but my frustration grew.
After gathering ingredients, I sat in my usual seat and prepared to start brewing.
“What potion,” Snape’s cutting voice shook me from my thoughts and I looked up over the cutting board, “is important enough to disturb me for?”
It wasn’t a genuine question. It was him seeking to intimidate me.
With similar venom, I replied: “Perhaps you can recognise it from the ingredients and seeing the preparation? Surely a great teacher such as yourself would be able to.” While I knew full well this was a potion my dad and I invented.
The knife came down on the chopping board a little too harshly. The spikes of pain made me want to retaliate anything thrown at me, and somewhere deep down I knew that’s what Snape felt as well. Yet I couldn’t find it in me to let myself be treated like an emotional punching bag today. So I brewed in silence, ignoring the prickling feeling of his eyes on me.
The tinkering of glass against glass as he arranged his ingredients soon put me more at ease. Brewing was always calming for me, and I breathed in deep once I put in the crushed lavender buds. Good. It’s coming along. Every once in awhile I’d sense he was looking at me, and I’d stare right back. It seemed he was truly trying to see what potion I was making.
A long hour and a half later, the potion was done, and I ladled it carefully into vials. I felt better just by knowing that now I’d have enough to last me a week. After barely waiting for it to cool down, I moved to drink one now, but Snape cut in. He stood in front of me suddenly, peering down at me past his nose.
“That’s not a potion I’m familiar with. If you see it fit to poison yourself, go ahead.”
“It’s a recipe of my own,” I replied, “for the migraines I get.” And I drank the vial to the last drop. He raised an eyebrow.
“Leech juice, lavender buds, salamander blood, poppy head, unicorn horn, honeywater, billywig sting slime, moondew drops, chizpurfle fangs, dried nettle, dittany, thaumatagoria; that’s quite a rare ingredient for an at home remedy,” he sounded critical. “I assume that’s your take on a Wiggenweld Potion.”
Under his scrutinising stare, I hastily sat up and threw the peels in the bin.
“It started out as such, but I kept changing ingredients around until it worked for me. My dad helped, of course,” I said, cleaning the rest of the workspace as quickly as I could.
Professor Snape remained quiet.
“You’re welcome to try some, if you ever get a migraine,” I joked.
“If it’s done, you can get out.” But his voice was softer. We stared at each other for a long moment. Slowly, my headache faded. Still, neither of us moved a muscle. His eyes darted over my face, seeking something, and he seemed calmed, much calmer than he was when I came in. His handsome face, regal and gaunt at the same time, was enough to take my breath away. His dark eyes were hypnotising, every time I tried looking away, I was sucked right back in. His lips parted slightly, as though there was something to say, but it never came. Then, a knock sounded on the door, and the spell was broken. Quickly, I gathered my vials and ran off.
#minoes vleerebosch#severus snape x oc#snape x oc#severus x oc#harry potter#harry potter fanfic#pro snape#snape posting#severus snape#pro severus snape#professor severus snape#professor snape#severus snape fandom#snape#snape community#snape fandom#snape love#snapedom#severus#hogwarts au#hogwarts university au
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An angst+hurt/comfort fic where Douxie remembers a bad experience that happened in Camelot, and Claire talks him through it? (Like, Maybe about how Douxie got the scar on his hand?
This definetly got way out of hand, lmao! I hope you like it. :) Cross posted onto ao3 and can be found with the link. If you’ve sent me an ask I promise I’m getting to it. My box exploded with notifs today so I’m playing catch up.
Enjoy!
R
Their training session had been going well, Douxie was impressed by how quickly Claire was able to pick up on new spells and magical abilities. Today Douxie had decided to take a leaf out of Merlin’s book so they were training in the forest instead of Trollmarket. One of his mentor’s earliest lessons was that you’d have no control over where the battle took place, so be prepared for any possible outcome of a battle ground. Douxie laughed as he countered Claire’s shadow magic with his own, his shield of magic blocking her attacks. The deflected magic took down some of the nearby trees, causing them to crash onto the floor. “Arugh!” The young witch-in-training groaned as she continued to fail to get a single hit in. “How are you so good?!” She yelled, firing a blast of magic with every word. Douxie leapt out of the way of each attack while began chanting for another spell. One of Claire’s bursts of magic barely skimmed the top of his head, destroying the tree Douxie was hiding behind. He winced in sympathy for the tree then flipped over the stump shouting,
“Years of training fair Claire! Telo lumen!” His offensive spell worked like a charm, bolts of lightening erupted from his right hand, scaring Claire into portaling a little further away. Douxie began chanting another spell, something that would trap Claire into a bubble of magic. She beat him to it though, eyes flashing purple and black she threw a wave of shadows in his direction too fast for Douxie to deflect. Douxie was thrown across the woods and landed on the ground, rolling until his back hit a rather large stone. Douxie coughed as he regained his balance.
“Teach!” Claire shouted, concern laced in her voice. She portaled next to him. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She asked, helping him stand back up. Douxie nodded as he blinked his eyes back into focus. His balance still seemed to be off, so he relied on her for support.
“Of course Claire. It’ll take more than a spunky little witch to take me down!” He exclaimed, striking a victorious pose on the rock. Claire didn’t look convinced,
“I’m not too sure what I even did. I was just so angry and annoyed that I couldn’t get a hit on you and it just sort of… happened.” Douxie nodded, sliding back down to sit an recuperate his strength.
“Magic is emotion Claire, once you learn how to channel the energy you’ll become a formidable opponent.” Claire nodded then sat on the grass next to him. The two sat in silence, then she frowned,
“How’d you get that?” She asked Douxie, pointing at his wrist. Looking down Douxie saw what she was looking at. His original arcane must’ve fallen off his wrist during their sparring session, exposing his scar. Douxie winced then pulled his sleeve down covering the ugliness of the mark.
“Training mishap,” he said unconvincingly. At Claire’s look of disbelief he insisted, “it happened over a century ago Claire, I’m fine.” Douxie stood up, still a little wobbly from Claire’s shadow magic.
“Maybe you should stay the night at Jim’s. You know, just in case I accidentally did something… Morgana-like,” Claire said as they made their way back into town. Shaking his head Douxie protested,
“Claire it was just a little bit of shadow magic. Nothing I haven’t seen before, a good night’s rest and I’ll be right as rain.” As he spoke he felt a wave of weak energy rush through him and he stumbled forward a few steps. Claire made a sort of tsking sound then she said,
“If you don’t want to stay with Jim then you’re staying with me. No arguing, no ‘but I’m a mysterious master wizard with diabolical plans.’ Got it Douxie?” She asked. Knowing a lost battle when he saw one Douxie caved. Nodding he begrudgingly agreed,
“Alright fine, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with me.” Douxie shivered as a cold breeze blew through the street. He pulled his sweatshirt around him a little bit tighter as he followed Claire up the steps to her house. As helpful as always, Claire showed him the way to the guest room and dragged in a few extra blankets.
“It gets a little chilly in here,” she explained as she threw the heavy quilts over the bed. Douxie sunk into the mattress, suddenly exhausted from the long day of training. He caught himself absentmindely tracing the pattern of the scar wrapped around his hand. Claire nodded at the actions, “are you sure you’ll be alright?” She asked, obviously hesitant to leave him by himself. Douxie nodded and gave her a cheeky smile,
“I’ll be fine Claire. Thanks for letting me stay the night.” The shadow witch nodded,
“What sort of friend would I be if I left you on your own? Goodnight Douxie,” she said flipping the lights off. Douxie nodded in the darkness as he whispered,
“Goodnight Claire.” As soon as his head hit the pillow his mind warped into a land of nightmares…
Douxie was around five centuries old at this point, still training with Merlin. They were training in the field today, Merlin wanted to give Douxie some real-life experience. “Now Douxie,” Merlin began, “you must understand… you just aren’t ready for larger spells yet. Keep practicing what you know. Once you’ve mastered your current level I shall teach you -” he cut himself off and summoned a miniature dragon made out of green flames. Douxie stared at the beast in awe as it patted it’s feet and curled up in a circle, resting in the palm of Merlin’s hand. “Spells and magic beyond what you believe is real.” Douxie accidentally ran into Merlin’s outstretched arm and his mentor dragged him behind a rather large rock.
“Master, what is it?” Douxie asked, trying to peer over the stone. Merlin shoved his head down, forcing him to hide.
“Trolls, gumm gumms. We must’ve traveled further into the forest than I had originally planned,” Merlin said as a familiar expression grew on his face. Douxie recognised it as Merlin’s planning-face.
“How many are there?” Douxie asked eagerly, he knew the dangers of the gumm gumms, but he was itching for a fight. “We can take them!” Merlin shoved his overeager head back behind the rock.
“Stay here Hisirdoux,” Merlin ordered. Douxie groaned inwardly, benched during a fight… again. It wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his self-esteem. Nevertheless, he listened to his mentor and stayed out of sight. After a few minutes of failed negotiation Douxie heard the telltale sounds of combat raging, with Merlin at the center of it.
“Master Merlin!” He called out, jumping up from his hiding place in time to see his mentor blasted into a rather thick tree trunk. Merlin slid onto the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The three gumm gumms turned and faced Douxie, fists balled and ready to throw. Douxie sprinted across the clearing and slid in front of his mentor, summoning a protective barrier of magic around them. “Merlin what do I do?” He asked, struggling to keep his shield up. In response Merlin’s head just leaned to the right, falling the rest of the way to the ground. “Right Hisirdoux, you’re on your own.” The gumm gumms multiplied while he was distracted, now reaching numbers of six or seven instead of three. “Damn it all!” Douxie exclaimed. He took his shield down and fired a massive wave of magic at the gumm gumms. Enemy distracted, Douxie dragged his mentor behind the tree trunk and returned to his defensive post.
“Run Hisirdoux,” Merlin’s voice mumbled from behind the tree. Douxie shook his head as he summoned another offensive blast of magic, taking out two of their enemies.
“You wouldn’t leave me!” He shouted, catching some of the other gumm gumms in freeze traps. He had no choice but to return to the defensive side of things. With his shield up Douxie tried to get Merlin to wake but the bastard of an old man kept muttering something about two spells at once, and a warning. Douxie’s eyes widened in realization - he could perform two spells at once. He’d been practicing his portals, and with the help of his arcane wrist band he could perform a few blasts while doing so.
Decision made he charged up his magic he kicked Merlin into the portal first. Douxie could feel the strain the double spell performance was having on his body, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make sure he and Merlin got back to Camelot safely. Shouting an incantation Douxie launched bolts of lightning at the gumm gumms. As he used more of his magic the young wizard-in-training felt his magic grow weaker. Soon after the gumm gumms were all destroyed he felt a hand wrap around his ankles and pull him through the portal just as his world turned to black.
Waking up in a cold sweat Douxie grabbed at his scarred hand, the nightmare still haunted him even though he was awake. “Doux?” A soft voice asked, knocking on the door. He shivered and pulled the quilts tighter around him, suddenly grateful for the extra warmth. “Oh Douxie, it’s alright,” Claire said as she sunk into the chair next to the bed. She ran a hand through his hair trying to calm him down. “You’re okay Douxie,” Claire promised as he gripped her hand tighter with his scarred one. Douxie took a shaky breath then apologized,
“I uh, sorry about this.” He knew Claire had a lot on her plate already. She shouldn’t have to worry about a master wizard who suffered from ptsd and panic attacks. Claire didn’t stop the calming circles she was tracing on his back.
“You don’t need to apologize for having nightmares Douxie. After Jim went into the Darklands he had night terrors almost every time he closed his eyes. Do you want to talk about it?” Claire asked hesitantly. Douxie frowned,
“It was years ago. Shouldn’t bother me as much anymore.” The two fell into a comfortable silence then Douxie found himself tracing his scar again. “Merlin and I were training in the woods outside of Camelot. He wanted to give me some real-world experience or something I guess. We traveled too far and ended up in gumm gumm territory. Merlin got knocked out and well… I had to defend us both.” Claire hummed, then nodded to encourage him to continue. Douxie sighed, “we were overpowered but I couldn’t let Merlin down. I uh… it was the first time I casted two spells at once. You need years upon years of training to cast multiple spells but what other choice did I have? In the middle of the fight I used my magic to summon a portal back to the castle and used it to fight off the remaining gumm gumms.” Douxie shrugged, “I guess I passed out because I ended up waking up to having a new scar on my hand and one of Merlin’s infamous lectures of me being a foolish apprentice.
“You’re safe now though. No gumm gumms, no Morgana, no Arcane Order. The guardians of Arcadia will call us if they need any help tonight. You just rest,” Claire urged him as he settled back into the bed. Douxie gave her a small smile,
“Since when did you get so wise?” Claire chuckled,
“Since I had an amazing teacher. Sleep, Douxie. We’ll be here when you wake up in the morning. Douxie nodded and this time when he closed his eyes, he knew Claire would be there to keep the nightmares at bay.
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Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..
Chapter 26
It was May 24th; precisely one month before the third task, and that evening at 9pm the champions were supposed to gather to be informed of the details of the task. Of course, Harry already had a vague understanding of what the task would involve, mostly thanks to Barty.
Harry was instructed by Professor McGonagall to go to the Quidditch Pitch at 9pm, and he came across Cedric as he made his way out there.
"Hey, Potter," Cedric said, dipping his chin in greeting as he caught up to Harry. Harry nodded his head back and kept on walking. "Any idea what's coming up this time?" Cedric asked. Apparently the older boy was in the mood for small-talk.
Harry shrugged. "Nope. Not a clue," he lied.
They reached the large stands of the pitch and made their way through, past the locker rooms and out onto the field. Instead of the smooth pristine lawn that was usually there, rows upon rows of small hedges appeared to have been planted. Harry had been expecting this, but he still grimaced at the sight. Cedric looked affronted.
"What the ruddy hell have they done to the pitch!" he gasped.
The two were spotted by Ludo Bagman who was standing a bit further ahead with Fleur and Krum beside him.
"Ah! There you two are! Come on now, let's get this show on the road! Now don't you worry, your pitch will be returned to its original condition when the tournament is over. What you see here now is what will soon become a magical maze!" the man said excitedly. "In one months time these hedges will be more than two meters tall, and will form a maze that will be filled with all manner of dangerous magical creatures and challenges. It will be the task of you four young wizards and witch to make your way through the maze to the center! Whoever reaches the center first gets full points! Each subsequent champion will be scored based on the time it took them to complete the task, as well as the magical techniques they used to defeat the challenges they met along the way! Now, do we have any questions?"
–
Harry was making his way away from the pitch some twenty minutes later. Bagman was an overeager windbag and he had spent far too long describing something that was fairly simple. They weren't going to tell the champions anything specific about the task, just that there was a maze and that there would be scary dangerous shit inside it. How that had taken more than twenty minutes to explain was beyond him.
Harry didn't usually visit the manor this late at night simply because he usually didn't have any good excuses to slip out of the castle this late, but since he was already outside the castle wards he didn't see any reason not to take advantage of the opportunity that had been provided to him and was now making his way towards the edge of the forest so he could disappear from sight before 'disappearing' from the school.
He was just about to activate the portkey when he heard some strange muttering coming from a bit further within the tree line. He pulled out his cypress wand and began cautiously making his way inside the forest.
He came up short when he saw an extremely ragged and ill looking Mr. Crouch standing there and muttering incoherently to a tree.
Harry blinked at the man, wondering if he were imagining things. How the hell did the man get there? He was supposed to be locked up in one of the holding cells in the basement of the manor!
Harry walked forward slowly, keeping his wand to his side.
"Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked cautiously.
Crouch continued to speak to the tree as if he were talking to someone else. It appeared that he thought the tree was someone named Weatherby, and Harry vaguely remembered Crouch Sr. getting Percy's name wrong and calling him Weatherby a few times, so at first he assumed that Crouch was somehow under the delusion that he was speaking to Percy.
He stood there, listening in, trying to make sense of the ramblings for a moment longer. Crouch seemed to be under the illusion that he was speaking to someone about his son, but in his mind, Barty had only just graduated from Hogwarts. He was telling the man about all the NEWTs that Barty had scored.
"Mr. Crouch!" Harry said a little louder. This time it seemed to jerk Crouch Sr. out of his haze and he suddenly began to quiver and cower.
"You? You have to g-get Dumbledore... I have to warn him. Have to tell him. It's all my fault. I never should have... never should have... all my fault... have to warn them!"
"How did you get here, Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked a little louder now.
"Have to w-warn D-dumbledore. H-have to –"
Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. "How did you escape? How did you get to Hogwarts? Did you apparate here?"
"Had to escape... had to get away. It's all my f-fault. Had to warn th-them. Fat little man... I st-stole his port-key. I have to w-warn Dumbledore!"
"Wormtail," Harry growled angrily.
Harry refocused on the sniveling Mr. Crouch and leveled his wand on the man. Crouch's eyes went cross-eyed as he gaped in surprise at the wand that now resided only inches from his nose.
"Stupify!" Harry said, sending a red stunner right at the man's head and knocking him out cold.
Harry knelt down to his side and grabbed Crouch's hand. He held it against the leather cuff against his arm and whispered Morsmordre; activating the port-key and disappearing with a soft pop.
Harry and the unconscious Mr. Crouch appeared in the entry hall of the manor. Harry dropped the man's hand and sneered down at him. Harry reached out with his senses and quickly determined that Tom was in his study. He raced up the stairs and pushed the door open.
Tom was in the middle of writing something and didn't immediately look up when Harry poked his head through.
"Tom we have a problem," Harry said and the other man's head jerked up and he frowned.
"Problem?"
"You should see this," Harry jerked his head over his shoulder and Tom quickly got to his feet.
Harry quickly turned and headed back to the stairs and began to race down them two at a time. Tom followed with equal speed, but considerably more grace. By the time he had reached the center of the stairs he could see the crumpled, unconscious form of Bartemius Crouch Sr. on the floor at the base and his eyes narrowed and anger began to build in him.
"How did this happen?"
"I found him at Hogwarts," Harry said, folding his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow.
"Hogwarts!" Tom hissed angrily.
"He was talking nonsense at first. Rambling to a tree like he thought he was at a dinner party or something. I yelled at him a few times before he seemed to snap out of it and started sniveling and whimpering about needing to warn Dumbledore."
Harry watched as the absolute fury in Tom began to grow exponentially.
"I managed to get him to say something about how he got to Hogwarts. He mentioned stealing a port-key from a short fat man."
Tom roared. "WORMTAIL!"
–
Harry was having considerable trouble getting to sleep that night. His whole body was on fire. The good kind of fire. The excited, energetic, 'I'm way too awake to sleep' sort of fire. Harry had been given the honor and immense pleasure of holding Wormtail under the cruciatus for nearly two whole minutes minutes. It had been far too long since the last time he'd gotten to use that curse on an actual living human, and he had almost forgotten how utterly fucking amazing it felt. How inexplicably exhilarating it was to hold someone under his power so completely. Listening to the man's tortured screams sent a sick perverse glee through him and left him light-headed.
His very nerve endings were alight with dark magical power. Every time he thought back to how incredible it had felt, he caught himself giggling quietly under his breath. It was a challenge to hold it in.
The hardest challenge, however, had been leaving the manor that night without accosting Tom. He'd been filled with the strongest desire he'd ever felt, to jump the man and grind against him relentlessly until the two were writhing and moaning against each other. He'd been so aroused by watching Tom punish the stupid little man, and also undeniably high from the powerful dark curses. Watching Tom throw curses at the screaming, sniveling, pathetic little man had been a real laugh, but it was the pure power and control the man held that left him utterly awestruck, and inexplicably aroused. He'd latched onto the older wizard's mouth as soon as Wormtail had been violently kicked out of the room, and Tom had responded by pressing him against the wall for a hot, passionate, minute. But then Tom had abruptly broken it off and told Harry he needed to go back to the castle so Tom could re-secure the cells and get Crouch Sr. back under 'lock and key'.
To say that Harry 'pouted' would be an understatement. And now he was left, laying in bed, practically vibrating from a powerful dark magic high, and an annoyingly extreme arousal.
Huffing out in frustration, Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out his holly wand to cast a privacy charm around his bed. He slipped the loose cotton pants and his boxers down over his hips and began to tentatively run his thumb and palm along his straining arousal. A moan escaped his lips as images of Tom's lips, eyes, and long-fingered hands drifted through his mind.
His completion was almost embarrassingly fast. He was so sensitive, and he was already wound so tight. He lay in his bed, panting slightly and still basking in the glow of all the events and insanity of his late evening. He grabbed his wand and spelled the wet mess on his stomach away before collapsing into a restless sleep.
– –
It was now three weeks until the third task, and four weeks until the end of term. Harry had been waiting until now to send the charmed letter to the Dursleys 'persuading them' to allow him to stay with a friend over the holidays. He knew they would love the opportunity to be rid of him, but he also knew that they'd miss his services around the house and yard. Not to mention the fact that Vernon would enjoy any opportunity to make Harry's life miserable, and if refusing to allow Harry to go somewhere would make him miserable, Vernon would do it.
The Post Office in Hogsmeade not only rented out owls and post boxes, it also offered access to the muggle post and Harry planned to make use of that service in sending his letter to the Dursley's. Sending them an owl would be disastrous, so he wouldn't even bother trying that.
It was Saturday and Harry had every intention of heading down to Hogsmeade as soon as he was done with his breakfast. However half way through the meal McGonagall came up behind him and asked him if he would come join her in Professor Dumbledore's office.
Harry felt ice run through his veins, and only just barely managed to keep his expression neutral.
He had to keep reminding himself that this could be about any number of things, and to not panic. It was also important not to say or do anything that could give away anything until they had spoken first and he had some idea what this was about.
"Of course professor," Harry said, stuffing one last bite of his breakfast into his mouth and standing to his feet. He followed her in silence all the way up to the seventh floor to stand in front of the gargoyle that blocked the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Wizbee," McGonagall said to the gargoyle and it jumped away revealing the entrance and the spinning spiral staircase.
Harry could feel his whole body stiff with nerves as he climbed up with McGonagall and entered through the two large doors. When he stepped inside, he found that Hermione was there, sitting in one of two, overstuffed chairs, opposite Professor Dumbledore and looking rather awkward and clearly cowed by the powerful authority figure she was sitting before. Dumbledore was smiling calmly and looked up at Harry and McGonagall with that frustratingly irritating twinkle. Harry forced himself not to sneer. Sneering would be bad. Very, very bad.
Harry was motioned to sit in the other available chair while McGonagall went to stand beside Dumbledore behind his desk.
"So glad you could come join us, Harry," Dumbledore said with that grandfatherly smile of his. "Lemon drop?"
"Er... no thank you sir. Can I ask what this is about?" Harry asked, hesitantly.
"Yes, of course. Mrs. Granger has come to your head of house, expressing concern for your summer living arrangements. I was hoping that we could get this whole misunderstanding sorted out."
Harry felt himself relax considerably. He finally understood what was going on. All he could do at this point was hope that Hermione had taken his warning to heart and hadn't mentioned his intentions to go somewhere else for the summer.
"Misunderstanding, sir?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding his head. "She seems to be under the impression that your relatives are not very fond of you, and do not treat you very well."
Harry deadpanned. "That would be an accurate assessment. If not, perhaps, a bit generous to the Dursleys."
"Whatever do you mean, Harry? I know that you and your relatives do not have the warmest of relationships, but they are still your family. Surely –"
"Professor, this is pointless," Harry cut him off rather curtly. "You and I both know how they treat me. We both also know that you're not going to let me go anywhere else."
"How do they treat you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, glancing down at Dumbledore with accusing eyes for a moment.
"They fundamentally despise me. They both hate and are terrified of magic and everything associated with it, and of course me for being the thing that has forced them to interact with magic. Growing up, they made it their goal to try and 'beat the freakishness out of me'. They spew obscenities at me; calling me worthless and insinuating that I'm less than human and that I don't deserve to live. They call me a freeloader and a slacker, and then they force me to clean their house from top-to-bottom, mow their lawn, paint their house, clean out the eaves, and do all the gardening.
"I have to cook their meals for them, and then they refuse to let me eat any of it. Up until I got my letter for Hogwarts they made me live inside a cupboard underneath their stairs and would lock me in there. Now for punishment, they lock me into the smallest actual room in the house. Despite being an actual bedroom, it still has bars on the windows, numerous deadbolts on the door, and a cat-flap on the door as the only access to the outside world. They feed me stale bread and cold tea through the flap, and let me out once a day to use the loo and an extremely fast, cold shower. The only other time I'm allowed out of the room is to clean their house or fix their food.
"And if that's not enough, growing up my cousin Dudley made an official sport out of beating the shit out of me, and Aunt Petunia used to hit me with the frying pans whenever I screwed up their meals. If that is not an abusive environment, then I don't know what is."
McGonagall's face had gone pale and her mouth was hanging open a bit. She looked utterly horrified. Dumbledore was still smiling, although the twinkle was less prominent than usual.
"Now Harry, surely you can admit to exaggerating things just a bit," Dumbledore said, leaning forward, folding his hands, and speaking in a tone one would use when humoring a young child.
"Sadly enough, no, Sir, I am not exaggerating one bit. But surely you can admit that you were already well aware of the exact nature of my summer living arrangements."
"Albus!" McGonagall said, turning and looking down at him accusingly. "You cannot simply dismiss a claim such as this! If even half of what Harry says is true, you cannot seriously consider sending him back to those people!"
"Now Minerva, you know how important it is that Harry return to the protection that his mother's sacrifice has provided him with. The wards that exist around the Dursley's house are unsurpassed. There is no where else where Harry will be safer."
"Safe! Harry just told you that his cousin beats him up and his aunt hits him with frying pans! That they lock him in his room and starve him!" Hermione gasped.
"Now surely, Harry, it's not that bad," Dumbledore said in that tone that Harry now recognized as being insultingly condescending.
"Sir!" Hermione gasped and Minerva looked down at him with stunned disbelief.
"I will send a letter to Harry's family expressing my desire that they treat him with respect and treat him as a member of their family, but I simply must insist that Harry has to return to his relatives home."
Harry snorted. Hermione looked horrified and looked over at Harry. He responded by raising a single brow and giving her a rather obvious 'I told you so' sort of look.
"Albus..." McGonagall said in a warning tone, but Dumbledore held up a single hand that seemed to indicate that they would speak later.
"Now, Harry, I will consider allowing you to go visit your friend, Mr. Weasley, after you have been with your family for at least several weeks. It's necessary that you spend a certain amount of time each year with them in order to guarantee the continuation of the wards there. Once I feel that the wards have been secured, and believe that an adequately safe place can be established for you to stay, we can consider relocating you."
Harry kept his face blank while he listened to Dumbledore speak. He refused to allow any of his emotions show on his face, because even the slightest hint of his true anger would surely give him away. He was too close to the end of the year to risk anything now.
"Now, Harry, I need you to promise me that you'll stay at your relatives' house until I can arrange for a safe place for you to go instead," Dumbledore said, leveling Harry with a strong gaze. Harry met his eyes for the briefest moment and felt something beginning to press against his mind. With a tremendous force of will, he instantly wrenched his eyes away and ducked his head, looking down at his hands, clenched in his lap.
He could only hope that Dumbledore wouldn't think into it too much. Most people would have found in difficult to break that eye contact. Harry could feel the strong compulsion to retain eye contact and not blink. If it weren't for Tom's lessons, he probably wouldn't have been able to break away as easily as he had.
Harry's occlumency was proceeding well enough, but he didn't think he could stand up to a full assault from Dumbledore. And even if Dumbledore wouldn't have been willing to do that with two witnesses in the room, the shields that Harry did have in place would only call attention to him and make Dumbledore start to wonder about him.
It took a considerably higher skill level than what Harry possessed to trick someone doing a legilimense attack into thinking that they were undetected, while diverting them to your 'safe' thoughts and memories, and keeping them away from the more sensitive ones.
Harry was scowling angrily, but was letting his lengthy fringe fall over his face to hide it from view. He started to fiddle with the hem of his robes in an attempt to look nervous instead of furious.
"I promise, sir," Harry mumbled out. Again, trying his best to sound cowed by his headmaster instead of the raging inferno of anger. The fact that the man had been trying to read his mind... would he have even tried to manipulate his thoughts? He knew from his own experience, as well as his reading, and Tom's lessons that it was possible to implant thoughts and ideas into a person's mind.
Had Dumbledore implanted thoughts into his head before?
The fury was becoming harder to hold back. He knew he needed to get out of there, and soon.
"Harry..." Dumbledore said again, and Harry felt another wave of compulsion hit him to look up into the man's eyes. But he knew it for what it was and he wasn't going to let it work. In fact, all it did was serve to enrage him further. He clenched his jaw gnashed his teeth, trying to reign himself in. Blowing up in the headmaster's office would destroy his plans. He had to control his temper. He felt his companion in the back of his mind, pulling forward memories of his sessions with Tom, instructing him of the importance of concealing his true emotions and controlling the anger within him.
He pulled up his most powerful occlumency shields and tried to push all of his emotions behind a strong, impenetrable wall. He was extra thankful when he felt his companion joining in and strengthening the wall around both his thoughts, memories, and his emotions. He felt himself go completely numb and cold and let out a quiet shuddering breath at the sudden relief from the thundering anger.
"I really should go, sir," Harry said flatly, still staring resolutely down at his hands in his lap. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend and I had some errands I intended to run today."
He could feel the slightest indication of tension and curiosity in the older wizard's magic, and was greatly relieved when he heard Dumbledore shifting his his chair and finally allowing Harry and Hermione to leave.
The two were down the spiral staircase and halfway down the seventh floor corridor before Hermione exploded.
"I just... I can't believe it!" she yelled, in exasperation. Harry came to a jerky stop. The numbness was melting away and the fury was threatening to explode again. He needed to destroy something.
He glanced down the hallway and saw the turn that would lead to the Room of Requirement. Tom had told him more about the room in the past weeks. Tom had been unable to frequently visit the Chamber after Myrtle's death, and had had to rely on the Room of Requirement for his Dark Arts practice. It was lacking Slytherin's books, but it was still an unplottable room, and was shielded from the wards the notified the headmaster about illicit, questionable, and illegal magical use. He could blow off some steam there.
"How can he treat it as if it were nothing!" she continued to rant on, her own anger growing as she was entirely blind to Harry's current mood. "It was as if he thought you were lying! How can he call himself a teacher! How can he ignore such accusations! It's, it's... unethical! Would he do this to any child to came to him, with claims of child abuse! How many wizarding children have been sent back to abusive homes because that – that man had the nerve to-to-to... URGH!"
Harry found himself being pulling slightly out of his growing insanity by the shock of Hermione having so blatantly disrespected Dumbledore. 'That man' huh? Harry thought, 'perhaps there was still hope for her yet...'
"And you!" Hermione continued, "I cannot believe you didn't try harder, Harry! Why did you just let him insist that you had to go back? How could you just sit there and let him insinuate that you were lying about something so important!"
"It's easier this way, Hermione," Harry said simply and looking straight forward. "If I had stood up to him, he would be worried that I might stand up against him. He'd be suspicious that I might do something, and he would have been watching me more carefully then. He might have even given me an escort or something – for my own protection, of course," he sneered sarcastically. "But now that I've promised to play nice and go back to the Dursley's he'll leave me be and I'll be able to get away easier."
"But... but what about all that stuff you said about him not having any legal grounds to control where you go? You're right about that, he really doesn't! He has absolutely no right to tell you that you have to keep going back to those awful people! You could go to Ministry about this! What your relatives are doing is criminal! Neglect and abuse of a minor is a serious crime, and they could be facing jail time! I mean, you could go to the muggle police even, but if not them, then surely there's some department in the Ministry for child services. It's just so... so... ARGH! I hate this! It's just infuriating! I cannot believe that he would allow this to go on happening! It just makes me so angry!"
An idea suddenly came to Harry and a tiny grin slid onto his face. It could be a good idea...
"Want to go blow off some steam, with me?" Harry asked suddenly, pulling Hermione out of her angry ranting.
She stopped and looked at him in confusion. "What?"
Harry jerked his head towards the corridor and said, "Come on," before quickly striding away, without waiting to see if she'd follow.
She did, of course, and within a minute they were standing in front of the wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy – the crazy old wizard who tried to teach trolls to dance ballet.
"Harry, what are we doing here–"
Harry held up his hand to cut her off as he began to pace back and forth before the blank wall. Tom had told him exactly what to request of the room to guarantee that it would hid any dark arts use. He didn't exactly plan on using any while Hermione was in there with him, but he still figured it would be a good precaution to take, anyway.
Hermione gasped as a door materialized in the wall out of nowhere. He reached forward and opened it up; looking back over his shoulder and smirking devilishly at her.
"Harry, what is this?"
"This," he paused for dramatic effect, "is the Room of Requirement. It can become whatever you ask of it. You just walk back and forth in front of the wall, three times, and concentrate on exactly what you want, and the room will appear."
She gasped. "Is this where you've been coming all year?"
"Yup," Harry lied easily. Honestly, it was a perfect cover. And not nearly as worthy of concern as him sneaking down into Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber.
He led her inside and the room was a very large, open space with practice dummies, and large clay pots placed every few feet. He wanted to destroy some stuff, and the clay pots would help with venting some of his frustration. The dummies were something he had yet to actually try out, but Tom had told him about how much he had appreciated them when he was a student at Hogwarts and used the Room of Requirement for his own training.
Apparently, if you specified it, the training dummies could even simulate the effects the spells would have on actual people. If it was a spell that would rend the flesh from a person, it would tear the cloth skin off the dummy. They could even bleed, although it was supposed to be black like ink. He hadn't requested those specifications this time though because he suspected Hermione would have found that a bit disturbing.
"Harry, what is this place... I mean... what's with the pots and..." Hermione trailed off, looking about the large open space with obvious confusion.
"I'm angry, Hermione. I'm trying to keep it bottled in, but I need to let it out, and the safest place to do that is in here. If I keep it bottled up in me, I'll just end up exploding at one of the students," Harry said in a monotone voice causing her to gape at him with surprise.
"What exactly are you planning to do...?" she asked, slowly, as Harry took a few quick strides into the room and pulled out his holly wand. He wouldn't be doing anything dark in there with Hermione about, and he wasn't willing to risk her seeing his cypress wand and asking questions.
He took up a powerful duelers stance that Tom had been drilling into his head, drew his wand and continued straight into a smooth slashing motion and sent a powerful severing curse at one of the clay pots. It shattered along the large cut he'd made across its surface and clattered loudly to the ground.
Hermione gasped, but Harry didn't waste anytime. He quickly sent a blasting hex at another pot, causing it to explode, and then a diffindo at one of the dummies. The feel of the spell impacting the dummy was far more satisfying than the hollow clay pot. No 'blood' came out, but the slashes did leave a puff of cottony stuffing sticking out.
He began to lose himself in the familiar motions, and the anger came to the surface, fueling the more explosive and damaging of the curses and hexes. Despite the powerful raging inferno of hate and disgust he felt pulsing through him for his one-time mentor, and ruiner of his whole life; he still managed to maintain enough of his mind to keep to school-approved spells – although most of them were NEWTs level. He was startled when he heard the sounds of a pot being smashed apart from behind him and turned to find that Hermione had sent a hex of her own at one of them. She ducked her head and grinned shyly at him. He smiled widely and gave her an encouraging nod.
He stayed mostly focused on his own emotional release, but he did pay Hermione enough attention to see that she was getting more and more into it the longer they continued. She even started to get a bit more creative as she went. Her offensive spell repertoire was considerably smaller than his, but he'd been working a lot on expanding the number of offensive neutral-affinity spells he knew, to use during the 3rd task. Barty had already warned him that the headmasters had a way to monitor all spells used inside the maze, so they could more adequately judge the champions spellwork and grade them appropriately.
Finally, Harry heard Hermione's attacks die away and he paused to turn and look at her. She was hunched over with her hands on her knees and panting lightly. He realized suddenly that she had hit a wall from magical exhaustion. She had used up all of her magic reserves. She just wasn't used to casting such destructive spells.
Harry knew that he wasn't even a fraction of the way through his magical reserves, but Tom had already told him that he and Tom were both anomalies among wizards. Few possessed the raw power that they did. He'd wondered what his own power level was in comparison to Tom's, but it had seemed rude to ask such a question when they were actually having that conversation. Besides he knew that even if they were somehow close in magical energy capacity, there was still a mountain of a gap between their spell repertoires and practical experience. Tom was simply in a league of his own. But he was the Dark Lord.
"You alright, 'Mione?" Harry asked with a small grin.
She nodded her head and continued to catch her breath. Finally she stood up and gave him a scrutinizing look. "You're not even tired!" she accused in annoyance.
Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Practice helps some. Your magical core is a lot like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the better, faster, and stronger it will respond to you."
It was true – but it could really only take you so far. Even if she practiced 24/7 she could never build her core up to Harry's level.
"Have you been coming in here to practice often then?" she asked, surprised. In truth, Harry had spent very little of his time in Hogwarts away from Hermione, Ron, or Ginny, lately. He almost always had an alibi for his trips outside the school. Since he was using the time turner whenever he was at the manor, he had plenty of time for all of his extracurricular activities, without having to disappear from his 'friends' like he used to to go down to the chamber. He might have to start leaving an hour or two of time where he actually wasn't anywhere obvious just to make room for time that he was away 'training'. The task was coming up, after all. It would only make sense.
Harry shrugged. "I try to. Sometimes I get up early in the mornings to do it, sometimes I do it during one of my free periods when Ron is busy with some of the other guys. I actually really need to start doing it more regularly again, since the task is coming up in three weeks."
"Your spellwork was incredible," she said. "I've never even heard of half of the spells you were using."
"I've been trying to expand the number of offensive and defensive spells I know," Harry said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "With this stupid tournament, it's been rather important."
She nodded hear head and then looked around the mostly decimated room.
"This room can become anything you want?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "Yup. You can even make changes after already being inside it," he said before focusing his mind and requesting a different room. It instantly began to shift and change around them and Hermione gasped in surprise. What had, moments earlier, been a large open room filled with crumbled clay pots and tattered training dummies was now a comfortable looking library-lounge. The walls were bookshelves filled with books, and in the center was a collection of couches and small tables.
"Merlin!" Hermione gasped as she raced over to the nearest bookshelf. "What books are these?"
"I can bring copies of any book that exists within the school's library into here. Including the restricted section. If the book exists in the school's library, it can exist here. But they can't be removed from the room. Slip it into your bag and walk out, and it will just vanish from your bag."
Hermione paused and then turned to look at him. "That's why you weren't able to bring out the old elf book? You could only access it from in here and whenever you tried to leave with it, it would just disappear?"
Harry blinked. It was a reasonable explanation, but now that she was in the room she would be expecting to see the actual book, and he still couldn't do that.
"Um... sort of –" Harry said slowly and in a hesitant voice. "But I don't think that book actually exists in the school's library either. Restricted section or not. It's sort of complicated. It will only appear for me. I don't think I could make it show up in here if anyone else was in here with me."
"What do you mean it will only appear for you? What sense does that make?"
"Hermione, how does this room make sense?"
Hermione huffed and put her hands on her hips with clear annoyance on her face.
"Look," Harry began, "I can't really explain why, but I know that I can't make that book show up in here for you, alright? Please just drop it." Harry's eyes silently pleaded with Hermione to give it up. She looked annoyed and huffed but didn't say anything else.
"Anyway," Harry said quickly to change the subject, "I have some things I need to do real fast, but then I really need to get down to Hogsmeade. I'm gonna run up to my dorm to grab and prepare a few things. Um..." he paused and looked around the room. "If you want you can stay in here. Any book you want you can just think it and it'll appear for you. It's brilliant."
Hermione's face brightened intensely with the sudden realization of just how useful the room had the potential to be. She bit her bottom lip as if she were torn between staying in the room and pursuing Harry with questions.
Her desire to learn won out and Harry was able to escape the Room of Requirement while Hermione stayed behind.
He raced up to his dorm room, but not because he had left anything there that he needed. Instead, what he needed was to modify the spells he had placed on the letters he intended to send to the Dursley's. Dumbledore had said he would be sending a letter to them as well, and Harry suspected that Dumbledore would be including some compulsion charms of his own. Harry had to work fast.
An hour later he was strolling down main street in Hogsmeade, walking away from the post office. He had sent off his letter, and was fairly certain it would serve its purpose. While standing in line in the Hogsmeade Post Office, Harry had gotten an idea that he would bring up with Tom later that afternoon when he went to visit.
The manor had powerful anti-owl wards around it. Tom didn't want anything to do with owl post because it left his defenses too easily exposed to 'idiotically stupid, simple attacks'. But he would still appreciate the ability to receive letters during his summer hols. Especially if he was going to keep Hermione and Ron convinced that he was safe and alive.
The idea was pretty simple. He would rent a post office box. He could do it at the Post Office in Diagon Alley, but perhaps some other random wizarding village would be a good alternative. Hogsmeade's Post Office offered a screening service for an extra fee. They would make sure that every letter received and placed inside your PO Box was free of all traces, curses, compulsion, etc. charms. Tom might still insist on additional precautions because he was Tom, and Tom was extremely paranoid, but Harry certainly couldn't fault him for that. Harry realized that he could also send Mixey to collect his post every few days so he wouldn't even have to go out into the open on his own.
It would be a great plan. Of course, Tom would have to approve of it first. Harry would also have to figure out what wizarding village's post to use. Perhaps Tom would have a suggestion or two...
– –
"France," Tom said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Huh?"
"If you're going to go to the trouble of using a post box to receive your mail, you should use one in another country."
"Er... why?"
"France has no laws against practicing underaged magic during summer holidays. Neither do Spain, Germany, or Bulgaria, for that matter, but I have some dealings in France anyway and will be sending Mixey there periodically, so she can make the trips there to acquire your mail at the same time."
"What difference does it make if France has no laws against practicing underaged magic?"
"You can claim that wherever it is that you're staying is in France. Therefore you are in a country where it is legal for you to be practicing magic," Tom said in an exasperated tone.
Harry's eyes brightened and he grinned. "That's not bad," he said.
Tom rolled his eyes but the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
"I could also make it seem like I met one of the Beauxbatons students and that's how I ended up running off to France. It would be a perfect explanation, and a great diversion. Send Dumbledore off to France searching for me when I'm actually here."
Tom smirked. "Precisely. And a love-struck teen running off to another country is far less suspicious than a brooding, secretive teen, who vanishes without any explanation or link to his friends."
"Do you know of any good candidates? I mean, any magical villages in France that I could go get a post box from?"
"I'll arrange one for you. Mixey can go set it up," Tom said dismissively. "With the proper charms placed on the box, all owls sent to 'Harry Potter' will automatically be diverted to the post box. You won't even have to give people your address, although on the last day of term it would probably be beneficial if you gave it to your two friends. The Granger girl and that Weasley fellow. Dumbledore is sure to question them before anyone else.
"Alright, I'll do that," Harry said smiling up at Tom. He shifted up from his position where he had been laying down on the chaise with his head in Tom's lap. Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position and leaned over, brushing his lips against Tom's. The other man grinned and returned the kiss, bring his hand up and fisting it into Harry's hair.
Harry's nerves around Tom had been decreasing drastically over the last week. Tom was forceful and impatient. He saw no point in dancing around things if he wanted them, so he had never hesitated to pull Harry into a kiss or an embrace when he wanted it. Because of this, Harry's own confidence had increased and he was rarely as cautious anymore. As long as they were already in established territory. When it came to going further than they had gone, it was always Tom who initiated.
Harry didn't mind. He wasn't in a rush, per se. His libido was certainly curious about going further, but part of him was also anxious. He was slowly realizing exactly what it was that two men did together, and he had to admit he was rather nervous about the prospect of things being done to his bum.
In an uncharacteristic display of concern for someone else, Tom had been taking things slowly with them. Harry had a feeling that the older wizard was occasionally frustrated with the pace, but he rarely allowed that frustration to shine through. More often than not they just snogged. Heavy snogging with grinding hips, grabbing hands, and heated kisses, but rarely anything further. In fact, Harry rarely saw Tom without his shirt anymore. The older wizard had taken to wearing one during his morning training again. He had said he needed to get things accomplished each morning and having Harry's hormones going crazy would only impede that.
Harry had still pouted and mumbled something defensively about being able to control himself. Tom had snorted and rolled his eyes.
Their kiss was growing more and more heated and Harry felt Tom's hands wrapping around him and forcefully grip his hips. Tom began to guide Harry onto his lap and Harry eagerly slipped into the position, straddling the other man. He moaned out as his pelvis brushed up against the straining proof of Tom's arousal, and Tom growled back into his mouth as he returned his hand to Harry's hair and fisted it.
Harry gasped out a loud groan at the painful tug. He was quickly growing to find the painful pull of his hair insanely arousing, which was probably good since Tom so clearly liked doing it. He ground against Tom again once more before his mouth sought out Toms again. Things were just getting really interesting when a little tinkling alarm sounded. The pair ignored it for a few minutes as they continued their heated snogging, but the alarm only got louder until Tom pulled back, panting and scowling in annoyance.
"What is that?" Harry gasped in obvious irritation.
"Severus is bringing Igor tonight. They will be here in twenty minutes," Tom growled.
"Karkaroff?" Harry asked in surprise. "He seemed absolutely terrified of coming back!"
"He is," Tom said with a smirk. "And he should be. Especially with Barty around."
"I don't follow you."
"It was Igor who testified that Barty was one of my Death Eaters. Igor gave away numerous names in an attempt to get himself out of Azkaban."
"Oh, ouch. I see why he's so scared."
"Yes." Tom drawled. "However, despite his traitorous cowardices, he has managed to get himself into a very useful position."
"Control the schools and you control the future," Harry said, echoing something that Tom had said to him a number of times over the last few weeks.
"Exactly. And Durmstrang has a very impressive Dark Arts curriculum. The graduating classes would be perfect for recruiting new Death Eaters. Beauxbatons teaches magical theory for both light and dark in equal measures, but does not have any dark magic classes. Beauxbatons has always opted to teach only neutral magics and allow more specific light or dark affinity magic to be taught by private tutors over the summer holidays."
"While Hogwarts," Harry continued for him, "teaches neutral and light magic, while denouncing the dark arts as if it were evil."
Tom sneered. "Yesss."
"If it weren't so important that I stay at Hogwarts, I'd consider transferring," Harry grumbled and Tom chuckled. "Well that and I don't speak Bulgarian or French."
"Are you suggesting that your dark arts education from me isn't sufficient?" Tom asked in mock shock.
Harry laughed. "Hardly. I have trouble imagining anyone else in the world getting a better dark arts education than what I'm getting from you." Harry leaned in and placed his lips lightly against Toms and hummed in pleasure as Tom returned it.
The alarm started chirping again and they both groaned in annoyance.
"You had better leave, Harry. I am not yet ready to risk Igor knowing of your alliances."
Harry sighed and shifted off of Tom's lap.
"Alright."
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Music Review: Thom Yorke - Suspiria (Music for the Luca Guadagnino Film)
Thom Yorke Suspiria (Music for the Luca Guadagnino Film) [XL; 2018] Rating: 3.5/5 “When you dance the dance of another, you make yourself in the image of its creator.” – Madame Blanc Although it’s a stale, “get off my lawn” sort of take (recently achieving peak snub by being mocked in a recent SNL bit), it is nonetheless worth insisting that the remake/reboot trend has gotten decidedly out of hand. Greenlight bets are so hedged now that the marketplace of ideas has been subsumed by the plain old market. That the main target demo is the Comic Con obsessive who’d be most likely to bemoan the trend is especially frustrating. When it becomes about wanting to see what a renowned auteur will do with a genre classic, as is the case here with both film and soundtrack creator, we are ignoring and negating the very possibility that these heralded progenitors might have something fresh and lasting to offer us. Of course, if the remake makes money, they might then have the resources/freedom to go forth and create that new staple. It’s nice to think that the gloriously batshit mother! might’ve been possible thanks to Bible thumper money, but Noah wan’t exactly God’s Not Dead. I’m sure those weird helper-giant creatures Noah enlisted for Ark-building had even more impressionable Christians double-checking their Book of Genesis. Point is, it’s a legitimate gripe. At least to this media fiend. And that’s regardless of whether or not we’re supposed to move on in the face of the cutthroat circus that showbiz is and always has been. The massaged notion of the reboot as generational collaboration is reassuring — that is, until we realize it’s a sort of cashing out on the future. Rather than carrying a torch, art patronage has increasingly succumbed to stultifyingly obvious business model imperatives, even daring to call it “inclusive.” And the best these second passes can offer (though it’s decidedly rare) is improvement. In the case of IT, we’re talking God’s work. In the case of Suspiria, I fear for the deserved reverence for Argento’s singular, if imperfect, vision. Sometimes conversations around this cannibalizing of genre greats feels overeager and almost nihilistically dismissive. Hell, even if last year’s IT remake is both better and more expansive than the original TV movie, its eclipsing snuffs out an iconic (arguably superior) performance by Tim Curry as Pennywise. In this light, despite the promising trailer, one partly hopes Luca Guadagnino’s remake comes up short. But going on this soundtrack from raffish up-and-comer Thom Yorke, it might just be something completely different. That is, it might be the best witch-themed film since 2016. Clearly it will be slicker than its namesake, for better or worse. But where Goblin’s soundtrack is all raging menace and badass prog, Yorke’s is (surprise!) mournful balladry and icy, texturally rich reverberations. Discordant horror strings may be old as Vlad, but they retain their potency here. And while this record has a lot of appeal for Radiohead fans, the more song-oriented material never feels out of place from the creepier passages. There are also subtly grooving segments that recall bandmate Johnny Greenwood’s elevating score for You Were Never Really Here. And the repeated waltz theme (“Suspirium”) has the feel of a Moon Shaped Pool track, but in its recurrence accumulates a staying power that was absent for anything on that release. All told, Goblin’s soundtrack works better as an album. It is decidedly more singular, concise, and fun. At a staggering 25 tracks, Thom Yorke’s seems a likely candidate for digital dismemberment. As gorgeous and misstep-free as it is, the soundtrack risks a bit of that souvenir, collector’s item feel native to score-based soundtracks. That being said, it’s nowhere near as padded-out as those typically are. While melodies and tones recur, track to track, it plays out with an ear toward immersion (which advocates against streaming, wherein the transitions get butchered). Especially having not seen the film, this release comes across as an enthralling journey unto itself, ultimately dodging obligatory companion piece status. It’s solid enough that Guadagnino could only disappoint. In that sense, fans of eerie mood music and Yorke alike can’t really lose here. Two-minute songs that you’d expect to be slight present unexpected turns that make them feel epic. Only a few tracks contain movie-sourced sound, and — running against the grain of that sort of thing — the samples are not dialogue centered. While it could be tempting to call nepotism on the maestro featuring his son’s drumming in “Has Ended” and “Volk,” his contributions are superb (especially the staggered fills on the former). It’s impressively laid in the cut, particularly given the high-stakes stoicism of the surrounding material. The proper vocal tracks (the vox for the deep dive of “A Choir of One” are just layered moaning intonations), which retain the vital quality of the best Yorke/Radiohead compositions, stick out a lot more. But they work well, like gulps of waning daylight in a vast, inky oubliette. If I had to guess, these songs are used diegetically or just in the closing credits. Much remains to be seen, but there is the auspicious sense that this was more than just a gig for Yorke. He is dancing outside of Argento, rather than of him. If Guadagnino, for his part, is doing likewise, then the Giallo legend’s masterwork of extraordinarily garish sight and sound is all the better for it. And if Suspiria is as much of a distinct entity as this soundtrack suggests, it’d be nice to see the notion of “fuckin’ shit up from the inside” of a bankrupt industry actually pan out for once. http://j.mp/2EIBwJ7
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