A Call to the Dark City (Delve/Mother of Learning/HPMoR/Mage Errant Multicross)
- Thread starter Berix
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Israel
Travelling forwards is easy, just wait!
Good point, I forgot about that approach.Travelling forwards is easy, just wait!
12 - Empty
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Harry
His father's study looked much the same five hours earlier.
The house didn't look abandoned. There were signs of recent use on the desk, which had been cleared of dust, and the personal computer his father used for reading papers had been replaced by a much sleeker and smaller machine. He could only guess at how to operate the minimalist interface. He eventually found the traditional I/O symbol next to a little silver rectangle and booted the machine up, which surprisingly took less than a second.
Then again, if Moore's Law had proceeded at its predicted rate for the thirty-odd years it seemed Harry had been gone, then that machine was probably around fifty-thousand times as powerful as the one Harry remembered.
Rather than stowing it in his Bag of Useful Items, Harry tucked the Time Turner under his robes. He'd deliberately only used five of the six possible hours of travel. Now that he had returned to a world in which the device functioned, it was a standard safety protocol to keep at least a single hour available. That way, if they were threatened, there was always the possibility of escaping into the past.
Not that he anticipated facing physical threats. Even now, five hours earlier than their time of arrival, his carbon affinity couldn't detect any people within his range.
Hugh had looked confused when they first arrived on Earth. Now he looked… well, a bit more confused. The young crystal mage's face seemed perpetually stuck in an expression of uncertainty.
"What…?" Hugh began, before closing his mouth as it became clear that he didn't know what questions to ask.
"We need to move quickly," Harry said as he sat down in his father's oversized office chair and flipped the futuristic-looking computer open. "Either this area has been abandoned for some reason, or we've been placed in a false world devoid of human life. Or something worse that I haven't thought of yet. Wherever we are, it's a representation of a time far ahead of the one I left two weeks ago."
It felt strange speaking Ithonian here, but it was necessary - Hugh wouldn't understand English. It wasn't really a practical inconvenience either at this stage: Whatever linguistic magic had reinforced the native tongue of Anastis, it had acted permanently on his mind, and the syllables felt as familiar as ever.
"Where are the others? Why aren't we with them, by the Mirror?" Hugh was scanning the room, and a quartet of crystals drifted out of his storage tattoo to orbit his shoulders.
The computer's user interface was unfamiliar, but intuitively designed. A small flat section below the keyboard was clearly intended to be used to direct the cursor, and responded instantly to Harry's touch.
Two icons appeared on the screen, with images of his mother and father, and he felt a pang of momentary relief. Both images looked considerably older than he remembered them. If this world was real, then if one or both of them had died, it was recent enough that they still had a user account on this computer with a relatively recent image - and it was possible they were both still alive.
He clicked on the image of Petunia Evans-Verres. She was the sentimental type, so her password would probably be easier to guess.
Hugh repeated his question. "Where are we?"
Harry was still focused on the computer. "Uh, this is my parents' house. Probably because I was thinking about it, and the Mirror decided to satisfy my preferences relating to family and togetherness rather than practical necessity. I have some choice words for whoever programmed that into it. We're a few hundred kilometres south of where the others will arrive in five hours."
Hugh blinked in surprise. "Is that what you… Wow. I mean wow."
"I know, right?"
In quick succession, Harry tried a series of potential passwords.
harry
Harry123
harryjamespotterevansverres
That did it. The screen opened to a beautiful high-resolution image of a landscape, in more detail than any screen Harry had ever seen - detailed enough to rival Zorian's illusions.
"Now, which icon do you think is a news program?"
"Uh, I think that device has some silicon crystals inside?"
Harry snorted. "You're not wrong."
It seemed like the cursor was the main way of interacting with the computer, so he started clicking icons haphazardly in what seemed like order of importance. He was successful on the third try, and a large rectangle offering 'search', 'news' and 'stocks' in large lettering took over the screen, alongside a few complex graphics, the meaning of which Harry couldn't discern. He clicked on the 'news' button, and waited a moment as the rectangle flickered and various coloured pictures and headlines took the place of what must have been some kind of menu screen.
The headlines looked as normal as they could to someone who had been gone for twenty-eight years. Celebrity stuff, climate change, war - the usual sort of thing. Narrowing it down to local news showed no reports of a sudden exodus from Oxford, nor of any other major crisis. Notably, no news articles he could find had been published within the last hour.
There was one other hypothesis to check.
Wherever Harry was, it appeared to be a version of Earth around thirty years on from where he had left it - just without any humans in it.
That being said, at present it was unclear whether this world was the 'real' one, in the sense of being the world he'd been born into. With the level of eldritch magic and technology that Harry was engaged with, it was entirely possible that this was a simulated world. Or a duplicated world, or that his memories or senses were being tampered with.
Harry had actually put a fair amount of thinking into this train of thought when he'd first discovered that the laws of physics - at least, the way his father had taught them to him - were optional. After the initial shock had worn out in the first few weeks of school, he had spent some time thinking about whether it was more likely that the whole experience was some kind of psychotic break, or hallucination. In the end he'd decided it was the same kind of epistemological challenge philosophers struggled with every day. Can I trust my own senses? 'I think therefore I am' only gets you so far, after all.
Just like last time, this lack of certainty didn't mean he could afford to mess around. If the world around him was an illusion, then his actions probably didn't matter all that much. But if it was real, and humans had vanished from Oxford in the last few hours, then it was critical that he acted quickly to prevent this effect from spreading to the rest of the world - or to try and reverse it, if it already had. As such, to have the greatest effect on the expected value of the universe's utility, he ought to act as if the world around him was real.
Harry felt some vague movement on the street outside through his carbon affinity, and looked out the window, hoping to see a human being, but it was just a shaggy dog, shuffling through the empty streets. At least that was new data: Humans might have vanished, but evidently animals were still around. Trees were likewise unaffected, he could see quite clearly out the window.
Stepping outside, Harry felt a momentary spike of shock when he saw a few plumes of smoke starting to rise up across the skylines of Oxford. Maybe there had been a war after all? No, that would be far greater in scale. What he was seeing was probably 'just' the result of all humans around Oxford abandoning their homes. Stovetops had been left on, fireplaces left burning. He turned to Hugh.
"Ok, first things first. We need to check if this really is my world, and whether there's an apocalypse of some sort that's made all the people disappear, or if something else is going on. Hugh?"
Hugh had doubled over behind Harry, and promptly vomited on the younger boy's shoes.
"Aargh! Scourgify! Hugh, are you ok?"
Harry took the crystal mage's arm and led him over to a plush looking sofa, and then went to the kitchen to scrounge up a bowl and a glass of water. Another data point: running water was also still working fine. Whatever had happened here, it really must have been recent.
He jogged back to Hugh and offered him the largest mixing bowl he had found in the kitchen, which was promptly filled by a second portion of the contents of Hugh's stomach. Hugh took the glass of water with weak hands, then after clearing his mouth to the best of his ability, croaked out "Aether sickness. Alustin warned us about it. I, uhhh, I might not be much use for the next little while."
Alustin had told them all about aether sickness, since they were planning on stopping by at least one alien world each. Apparently, the symptoms largely consisted of nausea and migraines, but Harry hadn't really visualised them as having such a sudden onset. He summoned some painkillers and anti-nausea pills from his Bag of Useful Items, and handed them to Hugh.
"Swallow. These will hopefully make you feel better. I won't be affected, I think - this is my homeworld, or a copy of it, or something. I didn't get aether sickness on Anastis either, for some reason."
Harry helped Hugh into a comfortable reclining position, and mimed the process of swallowing pills to a confused Hugh. Following his instructions, the older boy took the pills wordlessly and downed them with his next sip of water. Harry thought it was a safe bet at this point that there would be something more modern or more effective in his parents house, but he would have to actually find them, and he was leery of experimenting with medicines he wasn't familiar with in an emergency. He was already giving paracetamol and oxycodone to someone who could quite reasonably be described as an alien, which he wasn't particularly thrilled by, but babysitting Hugh for hours or days while time was of the essence was unacceptable.
Hugh seemed like he wasn't going to be very responsive in the near future. Harry tried to keep scouring his father's computer for any useful information, but after a few minutes the screen started flashing with horizontal pixel lines of purple. Shortly afterwards, the whole machine died suddenly, the complex electrical components succumbing to the presence of his wizarding magics. So much for using technology to solve his problems. At least the apparent arbitrariness of the rules of his world's magic made Harry feel at home again.
Operating on the assumption that what he was seeing around him was real (at least in the sense of being a world he could interact with and observe), it seemed very likely that the absence of humans was either the result of the Mirror doing something, maybe shunting them into a pocket dimension of immense proportions where they couldn't hurt anyone, or that some cataclysm had been triggered immediately coincident with their arrival here.
Maybe even been caused by it.
The fact that they'd used the 'enter' function they'd sensed in the Mirror without first using the 'authorise' aspect lent a lot of credence to the former, but as far as the wizarding world was concerned, there was no shortage of potential cataclysms.
After learning how terrifically powerful the wizarding world was, Harry had considered a lot of potential magical apocalypses, from the mass transfiguration of nuclear weapons to the activation of some random eldritch artefact from a forgotten age. He'd then decided that it wasn't the most productive line of thinking, given that at the time as a fairly untrained wizard there was relatively little he could do about it.
All this to say that however unlikely, it was entirely possible for some magical artefact to have simply… deleted humanity. And to check that hypothesis, there was at least an obvious place to start: the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.
Hugh groaned and pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and Harry rushed over to check on him.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.
Hugh blinked slowly up at him. "A little better. I'm about equally anxious and nauseous, so I guess that's an improvement?"
"Do you think you can stand?"
Hugh nodded, and Harry hauled him to his feet. Well, really Hugh lifted himself with some crystals strategically placed to carry his weight, but Harry let himself think he'd helped. It was the gallant thing to do, after all, for a guest in his house and in his universe. Hugh swayed for a moment, and by leaning a little on his crystals, managed to take a few steps and get himself stable. He breathed out.
"This feels weird," Hugh muttered, looking introspective. He turned to Harry. "I can feel the difference in the aether here, on this world. It's thicker somehow, like honey instead of water, if that tracks." He shook his head. "That's not important right now, I guess. Where are the others?"
Harry blinked in surprise. "The fact that you can innately sense the difference in magical energy between worlds is kind of… bonkers. The others should be at Hogwarts. Or, they will be, in about five hours. That's my school, a fair way north of here. It's a magical stronghold, so it's very likely that they're safe." Hugh breathed a sigh of relief at that. "I can get us there in a few hours, but we need to stop somewhere along the way first, so we can try to work out what the heck is going on."
Hugh drew himself up a little, clearly trying to shake off the remaining sickness and the grogginess from the pills. "Alright. I won't pretend to know how this time manipulation business works, but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you."
"Uhh, thanks. That's very gratifying, and thank you, really. I've got your back too, for what it's worth. We're in this together." Harry felt a little embarrassed at the exchange, but it did comfort him to have someone who seemed so overtly genuine place their trust in him. "Alright, let's get going." He muttered "Three-seater broomstick" to his pouch as they walked outside, and drew the broomstick out.
"This is going to sound pretty weird, but we have to head to the capital city, to the seat of this country's magical government. For that, we need to find a very specific bathroom." He paused, and appreciated the fact that Hugh apparently took this statement at face value. "Alright, first time flying?"
Hugh shook his head. "No. First time flying on something that looks this unstable, though."
"Oh, I totally agree, it's an awful design. But magic is weird on this world. It's not nearly as neat and logical as affinities on your Anastis. You get used to it. Sort of. Climb on the seat behind me, and hold on to the handles. We'll accelerate pretty fast, but this isn't too long a flight."
Hugh briefly magically lifted himself into the air, rising to around half a metre off the ground before descending again. "Good. Levitation cantrips still work here, so I should be able to land safely if I fall."
Hugh climbed on behind Harry somewhat unsteadily, and motioned to Harry that he was ready to go. Harry kicked the broom into a sharp arc upward, and they shot off toward London.
They followed the M40 at first, staying quite low. Harry didn't want to get lost, given that it was pretty hard to read a map while flying. The damage below was less dramatic than he'd expected. Every car that had been on the road had either crashed or come to a halt some other way, of course, but there were no signs of riots, nor were the roads leaving London clogged with cars the way they would be if a disaster had hit.
He turned back to Hugh and saw his mouth hanging agape, staring down at the cars, trucks, and infrastructure below. Harry shouted over the wind: "This is nothing, wait till you see it all in action!"
It took them a little under an hour to make their way to London. As they entered the higher density area, there were more frequent fires, some of them consuming entire buildings. It took a conscious effort for Harry to override his civic instincts to land and put them out.
Harry landed the broomstick outside a row of public bathrooms. Hugh staggered off the broom too, but Harry could see a little colour starting to return to his cheeks.
"So what now?"
"Um, I've never actually done this before, just heard about it from others. But I'm pretty sure it's something like this." Harry swung open the door of one of the cubicles, and stepped into the toilet bowl while a bemused and bleary-eyed Hugh looked on.
Now that he was standing here, toilet-water lapping at his shoes, it seemed awfully plausible that Fred and George had been joking when they'd described this as one of the ways to enter the Ministry.
"If this works, follow me down." He yanked the chain, and felt the world spiral around him as his form was distorted and he was sucked into the plumbing. After a disorienting moment, he was spat onto the floor in a long corridor - inside the Ministry.
Harry stood up and brushed off his clothes. After spending a week with Zorian's near-seamless teleports and gates, returning to the ungainly spaghettification of his own world was a bit of a downgrade.
He'd barely stepped out of the way when Hugh appeared by his side. He looked a bit green around the gills - the toilet-travel clearly hadn't done his nausea any good.
Harry led Hugh down the empty corridor. The sound of their shoes clacking on the polished stone floor was the only discernible noise. Whatever had happened here clearly wasn't limited to the Muggle community.
It was only a short walk to their first destination - the Hall of the Wizengamot. Harry had only been there once before, to bear witness to a trial in which his country's parliament had almost sentenced his friend to ten years in a torture-prison.
That is to say, he wasn't going there for sentimental reasons. Judging from the date and the time of day, there was a good chance that the Wizengamot had been in session when humans had vanished. If so, resting customarily on the plinth during the session would be -
Harry heaved at the great stone doors, barely budging them. After a moment, Hugh moved one of his crystals to help, and the door swung wide. The additional magical effort clearly exacerbated his aether sickness, and he wobbled on his feet for a moment before Harry reached out a hand to stabilise him.
The hall was empty. Great rows of seats, ostentatiously furnished, were arrayed around a small central space. The chair in which Hermione had been chained was long since gone, but Harry still avoided looking in that direction.
There were so many ways this might not work. Amelia Bones had already been ancient when he'd left Earth - she might have died of old age in the intervening twenty-eight years, leaving magical Britain without a Chief Warlock or a regent for the Line of Merlin Unbroken. The Wizengamot might have skipped the regular session-time for one reason or another. Or Bones might simply have been holding the rod, rather than letting it sit on the plinth in the customary fashion.
"Accio Line of Merlin." The rod would have been warded against such spells, but since Harry was its rightful bearer…
A short rod of dark stone shot downward from the uppermost ring of seats and flew into Harry's outstretched hand. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Hugh looked confused. "... What does that do?"
"It's a key. We need to move quickly."
Harry led them back out of the meeting hall, and toward the elevator doors. Thankfully, they still functioned, and once Hugh joined him inside, he pushed the lowest of the elevator buttons - one marked 'Department of Mysteries'.
There was a click as the door locked back into place, then the elevator was jerked downwards at an alarming rate. Still holding onto the latticed door, Harry grabbed Hugh's shoulder to hold him steady as well, and the (nauseous looking) crystal mage looked grateful.
Before long, the elevator halted, and the brass-lattice door swung open. A marble atrium lay before them. A wide variety of doors were set into the wall opposite - placed far too close together to lead to separate rooms, a testament to the fact that wizards really could fold space like nobody's business.
Harry looked around, seeking a particular door, and saw none which matched what he sought. After a moment of indecision, he felt a mental twinge from the stone rod in his hand, which seemed to tug him to one side. Following its guidance, he ignored the doors and confidently walked to the far edge of the atrium.
At his feet, with the seams barely visible, was a subtly differently coloured section of stone. After a moment, thin letters seemed to materialise in the centre of the square. Cold Storage.
Harry crouched down and pressed his fingers against the stone. It was cool to the touch. Hugh had followed him, but seemingly hadn't noticed the lettering, because he was idly looking at the doors.
He gently touched the rod to the lettering. The response was immediate - the square of stone sank into the ground, and slid to one side, revealing a staircase stretching downward.
Harry was halfway down when he realised Hugh wasn't following. "Hugh?"
Hugh's eyes were glazed over, and he shook his head. "Harry?"
"Hugh, I'm down here."
As if it took some kind of massive effort, Hugh wrenched his eyes downward, and eventually focused on Harry's face. As they made eye contact, Hugh's eyes flashed with realisation. "There's some kind of attention ward trying to keep me away from this trapdoor. It's very differently made to the ones I've seen before. Strange."
He looked introspective for a moment. "I wish Loarna were here. She'd have a field day with this. Do you know how to make wards like this?"
Harry shrugged sadly. "It's possible no-one on my planet does. The Interdict of Merlin stops our lore from being passed down except in person. It means that my world has been losing knowledge for generations."
Hugh nodded sadly, and followed him down the stone staircase. Now that he was aware of the 'attention ward', as he'd called it, it didn't seem to affect him nearly as much.
Three stone doors were set into the wall opposite.
Judging by the scuff-marks on the door-handle and the grooves worn into the floor, the left-most door was by far the most used. A plaque above it read 'Extraordinarily Dangerous Artefacts' in inlaid golden lettering.
The middle door looked considerably less used. The plaque above read 'Unutterably Dangerous Artefacts'.
The right-hand door simply read 'Threats'.
The hair on Harry's arms stood up.
He stepped forward, and touched the stone rod to the central door. The stone melted away, and Hugh jumped in surprise.
"Please don't touch anything."
"You don't have to tell me twice." Hugh looked wary, and his arms were wrapped around his midriff as if he were trying to keep himself warm in a blizzard. His face was still quite pale.
Harry cautiously stepped through the gap where the door had been. Hugh followed, and the stone of the door melted back into place behind them.
The room they were now in was long and narrow, and gave the impression of a particularly high-security bank vault, but more along the lines of a sensibly organised muggle bank, rather than the chaotic mess that was Gringotts. It was lit intermittently by luminescent crystals. Their dull glow reflected from dozens of transparent spheres, which hovered autonomously above a row of stone plinths which stretched out before them.
Each of the spheres contained, at its centre, a single hovering artefact.
Walking along the pathway, Harry passed a sphere containing a single dagger forged of a glinting, dark metal. Even in the dim light, the reflections from the blade drove a spike of pain into his mind, and he quickly averted his eyes.
The next held a wickedly angled wand, stained with what looked like blood.
The next sphere held what looked like the desiccated corpse of a small possum. It twitched slightly before Harry moved on.
The next contained a shifting pattern of sand grains, endlessly falling through the air in defiance of Euclidean space.
He kept moving. The important thing was that none of the spheres had recently been disturbed. If the wizarding world was responsible for the calamitous disappearance of Earth's population, then a stolen item from this room - or the next - was the most likely mechanism.
In terms of both raw magical power and magical weirdness, there weren't many things that topped the contents of these rooms. They were significant enough that this section of the ministry had been included in Bones' (very brief) briefing of the responsibilities of the Chief Warlock.
After passing more than a hundred crystalline spheres, Harry reached the final plinth, and came up against the stone end of the tunnel. For some reason, he had the strange feeling that the room would grow if he requested it.
"Alright, there's no obvious evidence of a theft. I suppose the thieves could have replaced the sealed objects with fakes, but there's not much we can do to verify that." Harry motioned for Hugh to return to the entrance, and reached out to tap the interior of the door with the dark stone rod. The stone melted away once more, and they stepped out, back into the relative brightness of the entrance room.
Swallowing nervously, he moved to face the door marked 'Threats'. He'd barely touched the rod to its surface when it seemed to fade away. Rather than the stone moving to one side (like the trapdoor above), it seemed to gradually reduce in opacity until it was no longer visible. Harry was reminded of the final oscillations of Ithos before the Exile Splinter finally ran out of mana and returned the exiled city to its homeworld.
He stepped forward, but stopped when Hugh tried to grab his shoulder.
"What?"
"You were going to walk into the wall." Hugh raised a hand and held it in midair, as if pressing it against the door.
"Ah, you can still see the door? It's no longer present to me - probably another attention ward, or something like that. I suspect the creator of this room didn't want anyone unauthorised to go inside. Stay here, I'll be back shortly."
Hugh nodded, and Harry saw his eyes flicker in confusion as Harry stepped through what looked like a wall of stone to the crystal mage.
He turned his eyes forward. The design of this room was identical to the one they'd just visited - a row of stone plinths, with crystal spheres hovering above them, stretched out before him.
There was one particular difference between this room and the previous one, however.
Every single crystal sphere, without exception, was empty.
He stood silently in place for a full five minutes.
As the time elapsed, he'd narrowed the realm of possibility down to two chief hypotheses.
The Line of Merlin had been passed down through the generations by the stewards of the magical world, who sought to keep the world safe, and hold back those threats which might put life itself in danger.
Those which could be purged from the world, would be purged - the way Harry intended to destroy the Dementors, when he finally returned to his world - if Hermione hadn't managed it in his absence.
Those which could not be destroyed, only sealed away - those were placed here, in a vault only accessible to a single person, until they passed that burden on to their successor - the way Dumbledore had passed on the Line of Merlin to him.
And somehow, every single one of these threats was no longer here.
First, it was possible that some entity or force had pulled off the heist of the millennium, and managed to retrieve not just a single one of these immensely dangerous threats, but every single one of them. Now that Voldemort was sealed into the emerald stone set into his ring, he didn't know of any entities on Earth which could have accomplished such a deed, but that did not mean there were none who could accomplish it. In addition, Harry now knew that dangers to this world did not solely come from within.
This hypothesis had a particular drawback. It did not explain why the physical world had been left untouched. The Shambling Bone-Men, for example, didn't even warrant inclusion in this room, and were left sealed in another location with lesser protections - and had they been released, it would scarcely have been possible to miss the scars left by their passage. In his first debrief with Moody, he'd been told that Dumbledore had sealed at least one phenomenon which would have left Earth a cracked and smouldering cinder. So if they had all been released, where was the widespread destruction? If some multiversal entity had swept by and relieved Earth of its payload of weapons of utter annihilation, why had they purged the planet of human life alone, and left trees and animals alive? Surely it would have been simpler to annihilate the planet entirely - and an entity able to wield that which had been sealed in this room undeniably had that capability.
His second hypothesis was rapidly gaining credence in his mind.
The Mirror was said to grant the wishes of those who stood before it. One mechanism it used to do so was conjuring alternate realms of existence, and allowing limited access to that which it had created. Harry and his companions had sought to enter Earth, and yet had been refused entry for one reason or another. Perhaps they were too dangerous, or perhaps their foreign magics were not permitted. Or perhaps the Mirror was simply one-way - it might allow people to leave Earth, but not to return.
How then would the last Atlantean construct satisfy its dual imperatives - to assist those who stood before it, and to keep safe and protect the Atlantean homeworld on Earth?
It might create a world - not Earth, but imitating the Earth in every respect, but for two - and send the visitors there instead.
The Atlanteans had seemingly valued sapient life. Creating a buffer world to satisfy potential invaders, and stocking it with innocents to be slaughtered - it didn't really seem like their style. So this false Earth - this 'reflection', Harry thought, probably wouldn't copy the human inhabitants, and expose them to danger, or obliteration, if this world was to be temporary (a somewhat concerning thought in and of itself).
According to the legends Quirrell had told him, Atlantis had constructed the Mirror with the explicit intention of ensuring it would not destroy the world. Merlin had said that it would be easier to destroy the world using a lump of cheese. A reasonable conclusion to draw was that there was one other category of item the Mirror would be loath to replicate - those stored in this room.
As such, the emptiness of every single crystal sphere, combined with the lack of any damage to the Earth itself, was sufficiently strong evidence that Harry was starting to breathe a little more easily. This (probably) wasn't the real Earth, and so (probably) the whole of humanity hadn't vanished in a single instant. He and his allies were (probably) in a reflection of Earth, designed to satisfy their needs without impinging on the true Earth's security.
His parents were (probably) still alive.
He stepped back out the square door-hole. Hugh was studying the edges of the frame, and jumped in surprise as he emerged.
"This seems to be a fake world. I think it's a copy of my world, designed to keep us here while obviating our need to travel to the true Earth."
Hugh started, but then just nodded, taking the information in stride. "That's a relief."
Harry exhaled again, some of the built-up tension slowly leaving his body. "You can say that again. We've still got to figure out how to get there, assuming that's even possible. We also have to figure out whether or not I've skipped along the surface of Time like a stone and missed twenty-eight years of the progression of my world."
Hugh reached out an arm and clapped Harry on the shoulder. The movement looked a bit awkward, as if he wasn't quite sure how to pull it off, but was trying to fill Godrick's role in the gentle giant's absence. "I'm sure we'll have it figured out in no time."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry mumbled under his breath. Straightening up, he checked his watch and spoke more clearly. "It's taken us around ninety minutes to get here. We have three and a half more hours until we arrive in my parents' house. I want to get to Zorian as quickly as possible, since he's our greatest tool for mobility and communication."
Harry readjusted his glasses and continued thinking out loud. "If the Mirror isn't cooperating with our desire to reach the true Earth, then Zorian is probably our best bet for getting there as well."
If Zorian's cryptic statements about 'the Sovereign Gate' meant what Harry thought they meant, then this wasn't the first time Zorian had encountered a problem of this nature.
"They're in Hogwarts, so we should try to meet them there. The Floo network should still be operational, since I don't think it requires active oversight from the Ministry. Between the secure starting location and the authority of the Line of Merlin, we should be able to connect directly to Hogwarts. We'll arrive well before they do, and we won't make contact until Zorian sends the mental communication from earlier - otherwise he'd already know where we are. That gives us plenty of time to gather information. Thoughts?"
Hugh nodded. "I'll defer to you on this one. This is your world, not mine."
Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure it really is, anymore." He pressed the elevator button again, and took them back to the atrium where they'd arrived.
There was a functional-seeming Floo entrance point only a few metres away from the elevator. A chalice of acrid powder protruded from the wall at waist-height next to a fireplace. Despite not having been tended for at least a few hours, the embers still glowed heartily - the hallmark of a magically sustained flame.
Harry frowned. He'd only ever travelled with native English speakers through the Floo network. Typically, the traveller would state the name of their destination, step into the flames and be whisked away. If a prospective traveller could only speak Ithonian, however, should they state the translation of their destination in their mother tongue, or should they say the original English words, which they only recently learned?
It probably wasn't physically dangerous to try one of those methods, given that Floo travel rarely resulted in splinching or the similar dangers typical of apparition. That being said, sending Hugh on his own to a random destination in magical Britain would not be an ideal outcome.
Harry cleared his throat. "This, ah, probably won't be great for your indigestion. Follow my instructions carefully, or you might end up very far away."
Hugh nodded, looking worse-for-wear, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy. Even though Harry was under a huge amount of stress, this probably wasn't a walk in the park for his teenage companion either.
"It works like this. Take a pinch of Floo powder, and throw it into the fireplace. The flames should momentarily flash green. State your destination, then step into the fireplace. Judging from the way most of magical Britain is constructed, I think the destination is keyed to the explicit English phrase describing it. Our destination is Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts. Actually, scratch that, it should be Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts. I think, at least."
He made sure to enunciate the English syllables clearly to Hugh, and had him repeat them three times.
"In case you do get lost, take this." He pulled the telepathic relay from his bag and handed it over to Hugh. "It should help Zorian find you by speaking into your mind."
Hugh turned the disc over in his hands, before making it disappear by some mechanism Harry couldn't discern.
Hugh looked back up at Harry, and there was a hint of steel in his gaze. "Let's go."
Harry took a pinch of the powder and scattered it above the glowing embers. The flames erupted into a green conflagration that filled the black stone fireplace.
"Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts."
He stepped into the fire, and felt his body sucked inwards and rotated about himself. Even though he hadn't felt any aether sickness upon returning to a facsimile of his own world, his stomach churned.
After an instant, he was spat out onto a thick, woolly carpet, and rolled to the side to make way for Hugh's arrival. He came through a moment later, and Harry breathed out yet another tensely-held breath. Hugh summoned the telepathic relay back into his hands, and wordlessly handed it back to Harry as they both took in their surroundings.
The stone office had small windows on every side, looking out into the forests below the castle. The remaining walls were stacked with bookshelves, and the centre of the richly furnished room was dominated by a large desk. A collection of mind-boggling artefacts were scattered about, many of them on the desk, others mounted on the wall and set onto the bookshelves. Compared to the ones Harry had just seen in the Ministry, these were probably nothing special, but the ones Harry didn't recognise certainly looked peculiar.
A bubbling noise was coming from a hand-sized twisting spiral sculpture. It seemed to be repeatedly raising a bronze ball, only to drop it into a vat of acid, where it dissolved, then re-solidified beside the vat at the base of the spiral. A silvery plate rested to the right of the desk-chair, and above it hovered a peculiar gold metal arrow. The arrowhead was eerily rotating to point directly at Harry as he moved around the room.
A voice spoke above the noise from the odd devices, and Harry's wand leaped into his hand before he recognised it. It was a clipped, precise Scottish accent, coming from a large portrait of a stern-looking witch, that hung from the wall behind the room's main chair.
"Harry Potter. My, my, it has been a long time."
His father's study looked much the same five hours earlier.
The house didn't look abandoned. There were signs of recent use on the desk, which had been cleared of dust, and the personal computer his father used for reading papers had been replaced by a much sleeker and smaller machine. He could only guess at how to operate the minimalist interface. He eventually found the traditional I/O symbol next to a little silver rectangle and booted the machine up, which surprisingly took less than a second.
Then again, if Moore's Law had proceeded at its predicted rate for the thirty-odd years it seemed Harry had been gone, then that machine was probably around fifty-thousand times as powerful as the one Harry remembered.
Rather than stowing it in his Bag of Useful Items, Harry tucked the Time Turner under his robes. He'd deliberately only used five of the six possible hours of travel. Now that he had returned to a world in which the device functioned, it was a standard safety protocol to keep at least a single hour available. That way, if they were threatened, there was always the possibility of escaping into the past.
Not that he anticipated facing physical threats. Even now, five hours earlier than their time of arrival, his carbon affinity couldn't detect any people within his range.
Hugh had looked confused when they first arrived on Earth. Now he looked… well, a bit more confused. The young crystal mage's face seemed perpetually stuck in an expression of uncertainty.
"What…?" Hugh began, before closing his mouth as it became clear that he didn't know what questions to ask.
"We need to move quickly," Harry said as he sat down in his father's oversized office chair and flipped the futuristic-looking computer open. "Either this area has been abandoned for some reason, or we've been placed in a false world devoid of human life. Or something worse that I haven't thought of yet. Wherever we are, it's a representation of a time far ahead of the one I left two weeks ago."
It felt strange speaking Ithonian here, but it was necessary - Hugh wouldn't understand English. It wasn't really a practical inconvenience either at this stage: Whatever linguistic magic had reinforced the native tongue of Anastis, it had acted permanently on his mind, and the syllables felt as familiar as ever.
"Where are the others? Why aren't we with them, by the Mirror?" Hugh was scanning the room, and a quartet of crystals drifted out of his storage tattoo to orbit his shoulders.
The computer's user interface was unfamiliar, but intuitively designed. A small flat section below the keyboard was clearly intended to be used to direct the cursor, and responded instantly to Harry's touch.
Two icons appeared on the screen, with images of his mother and father, and he felt a pang of momentary relief. Both images looked considerably older than he remembered them. If this world was real, then if one or both of them had died, it was recent enough that they still had a user account on this computer with a relatively recent image - and it was possible they were both still alive.
He clicked on the image of Petunia Evans-Verres. She was the sentimental type, so her password would probably be easier to guess.
Hugh repeated his question. "Where are we?"
Harry was still focused on the computer. "Uh, this is my parents' house. Probably because I was thinking about it, and the Mirror decided to satisfy my preferences relating to family and togetherness rather than practical necessity. I have some choice words for whoever programmed that into it. We're a few hundred kilometres south of where the others will arrive in five hours."
Hugh blinked in surprise. "Is that what you… Wow. I mean wow."
"I know, right?"
In quick succession, Harry tried a series of potential passwords.
harry
Harry123
harryjamespotterevansverres
That did it. The screen opened to a beautiful high-resolution image of a landscape, in more detail than any screen Harry had ever seen - detailed enough to rival Zorian's illusions.
"Now, which icon do you think is a news program?"
"Uh, I think that device has some silicon crystals inside?"
Harry snorted. "You're not wrong."
It seemed like the cursor was the main way of interacting with the computer, so he started clicking icons haphazardly in what seemed like order of importance. He was successful on the third try, and a large rectangle offering 'search', 'news' and 'stocks' in large lettering took over the screen, alongside a few complex graphics, the meaning of which Harry couldn't discern. He clicked on the 'news' button, and waited a moment as the rectangle flickered and various coloured pictures and headlines took the place of what must have been some kind of menu screen.
The headlines looked as normal as they could to someone who had been gone for twenty-eight years. Celebrity stuff, climate change, war - the usual sort of thing. Narrowing it down to local news showed no reports of a sudden exodus from Oxford, nor of any other major crisis. Notably, no news articles he could find had been published within the last hour.
There was one other hypothesis to check.
Wherever Harry was, it appeared to be a version of Earth around thirty years on from where he had left it - just without any humans in it.
That being said, at present it was unclear whether this world was the 'real' one, in the sense of being the world he'd been born into. With the level of eldritch magic and technology that Harry was engaged with, it was entirely possible that this was a simulated world. Or a duplicated world, or that his memories or senses were being tampered with.
Harry had actually put a fair amount of thinking into this train of thought when he'd first discovered that the laws of physics - at least, the way his father had taught them to him - were optional. After the initial shock had worn out in the first few weeks of school, he had spent some time thinking about whether it was more likely that the whole experience was some kind of psychotic break, or hallucination. In the end he'd decided it was the same kind of epistemological challenge philosophers struggled with every day. Can I trust my own senses? 'I think therefore I am' only gets you so far, after all.
Just like last time, this lack of certainty didn't mean he could afford to mess around. If the world around him was an illusion, then his actions probably didn't matter all that much. But if it was real, and humans had vanished from Oxford in the last few hours, then it was critical that he acted quickly to prevent this effect from spreading to the rest of the world - or to try and reverse it, if it already had. As such, to have the greatest effect on the expected value of the universe's utility, he ought to act as if the world around him was real.
Harry felt some vague movement on the street outside through his carbon affinity, and looked out the window, hoping to see a human being, but it was just a shaggy dog, shuffling through the empty streets. At least that was new data: Humans might have vanished, but evidently animals were still around. Trees were likewise unaffected, he could see quite clearly out the window.
Stepping outside, Harry felt a momentary spike of shock when he saw a few plumes of smoke starting to rise up across the skylines of Oxford. Maybe there had been a war after all? No, that would be far greater in scale. What he was seeing was probably 'just' the result of all humans around Oxford abandoning their homes. Stovetops had been left on, fireplaces left burning. He turned to Hugh.
"Ok, first things first. We need to check if this really is my world, and whether there's an apocalypse of some sort that's made all the people disappear, or if something else is going on. Hugh?"
Hugh had doubled over behind Harry, and promptly vomited on the younger boy's shoes.
"Aargh! Scourgify! Hugh, are you ok?"
Harry took the crystal mage's arm and led him over to a plush looking sofa, and then went to the kitchen to scrounge up a bowl and a glass of water. Another data point: running water was also still working fine. Whatever had happened here, it really must have been recent.
He jogged back to Hugh and offered him the largest mixing bowl he had found in the kitchen, which was promptly filled by a second portion of the contents of Hugh's stomach. Hugh took the glass of water with weak hands, then after clearing his mouth to the best of his ability, croaked out "Aether sickness. Alustin warned us about it. I, uhhh, I might not be much use for the next little while."
Alustin had told them all about aether sickness, since they were planning on stopping by at least one alien world each. Apparently, the symptoms largely consisted of nausea and migraines, but Harry hadn't really visualised them as having such a sudden onset. He summoned some painkillers and anti-nausea pills from his Bag of Useful Items, and handed them to Hugh.
"Swallow. These will hopefully make you feel better. I won't be affected, I think - this is my homeworld, or a copy of it, or something. I didn't get aether sickness on Anastis either, for some reason."
Harry helped Hugh into a comfortable reclining position, and mimed the process of swallowing pills to a confused Hugh. Following his instructions, the older boy took the pills wordlessly and downed them with his next sip of water. Harry thought it was a safe bet at this point that there would be something more modern or more effective in his parents house, but he would have to actually find them, and he was leery of experimenting with medicines he wasn't familiar with in an emergency. He was already giving paracetamol and oxycodone to someone who could quite reasonably be described as an alien, which he wasn't particularly thrilled by, but babysitting Hugh for hours or days while time was of the essence was unacceptable.
Hugh seemed like he wasn't going to be very responsive in the near future. Harry tried to keep scouring his father's computer for any useful information, but after a few minutes the screen started flashing with horizontal pixel lines of purple. Shortly afterwards, the whole machine died suddenly, the complex electrical components succumbing to the presence of his wizarding magics. So much for using technology to solve his problems. At least the apparent arbitrariness of the rules of his world's magic made Harry feel at home again.
Operating on the assumption that what he was seeing around him was real (at least in the sense of being a world he could interact with and observe), it seemed very likely that the absence of humans was either the result of the Mirror doing something, maybe shunting them into a pocket dimension of immense proportions where they couldn't hurt anyone, or that some cataclysm had been triggered immediately coincident with their arrival here.
Maybe even been caused by it.
The fact that they'd used the 'enter' function they'd sensed in the Mirror without first using the 'authorise' aspect lent a lot of credence to the former, but as far as the wizarding world was concerned, there was no shortage of potential cataclysms.
After learning how terrifically powerful the wizarding world was, Harry had considered a lot of potential magical apocalypses, from the mass transfiguration of nuclear weapons to the activation of some random eldritch artefact from a forgotten age. He'd then decided that it wasn't the most productive line of thinking, given that at the time as a fairly untrained wizard there was relatively little he could do about it.
All this to say that however unlikely, it was entirely possible for some magical artefact to have simply… deleted humanity. And to check that hypothesis, there was at least an obvious place to start: the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.
Hugh groaned and pushed himself up to sit a little straighter, and Harry rushed over to check on him.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.
Hugh blinked slowly up at him. "A little better. I'm about equally anxious and nauseous, so I guess that's an improvement?"
"Do you think you can stand?"
Hugh nodded, and Harry hauled him to his feet. Well, really Hugh lifted himself with some crystals strategically placed to carry his weight, but Harry let himself think he'd helped. It was the gallant thing to do, after all, for a guest in his house and in his universe. Hugh swayed for a moment, and by leaning a little on his crystals, managed to take a few steps and get himself stable. He breathed out.
"This feels weird," Hugh muttered, looking introspective. He turned to Harry. "I can feel the difference in the aether here, on this world. It's thicker somehow, like honey instead of water, if that tracks." He shook his head. "That's not important right now, I guess. Where are the others?"
Harry blinked in surprise. "The fact that you can innately sense the difference in magical energy between worlds is kind of… bonkers. The others should be at Hogwarts. Or, they will be, in about five hours. That's my school, a fair way north of here. It's a magical stronghold, so it's very likely that they're safe." Hugh breathed a sigh of relief at that. "I can get us there in a few hours, but we need to stop somewhere along the way first, so we can try to work out what the heck is going on."
Hugh drew himself up a little, clearly trying to shake off the remaining sickness and the grogginess from the pills. "Alright. I won't pretend to know how this time manipulation business works, but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you."
"Uhh, thanks. That's very gratifying, and thank you, really. I've got your back too, for what it's worth. We're in this together." Harry felt a little embarrassed at the exchange, but it did comfort him to have someone who seemed so overtly genuine place their trust in him. "Alright, let's get going." He muttered "Three-seater broomstick" to his pouch as they walked outside, and drew the broomstick out.
"This is going to sound pretty weird, but we have to head to the capital city, to the seat of this country's magical government. For that, we need to find a very specific bathroom." He paused, and appreciated the fact that Hugh apparently took this statement at face value. "Alright, first time flying?"
Hugh shook his head. "No. First time flying on something that looks this unstable, though."
"Oh, I totally agree, it's an awful design. But magic is weird on this world. It's not nearly as neat and logical as affinities on your Anastis. You get used to it. Sort of. Climb on the seat behind me, and hold on to the handles. We'll accelerate pretty fast, but this isn't too long a flight."
Hugh briefly magically lifted himself into the air, rising to around half a metre off the ground before descending again. "Good. Levitation cantrips still work here, so I should be able to land safely if I fall."
Hugh climbed on behind Harry somewhat unsteadily, and motioned to Harry that he was ready to go. Harry kicked the broom into a sharp arc upward, and they shot off toward London.
They followed the M40 at first, staying quite low. Harry didn't want to get lost, given that it was pretty hard to read a map while flying. The damage below was less dramatic than he'd expected. Every car that had been on the road had either crashed or come to a halt some other way, of course, but there were no signs of riots, nor were the roads leaving London clogged with cars the way they would be if a disaster had hit.
He turned back to Hugh and saw his mouth hanging agape, staring down at the cars, trucks, and infrastructure below. Harry shouted over the wind: "This is nothing, wait till you see it all in action!"
It took them a little under an hour to make their way to London. As they entered the higher density area, there were more frequent fires, some of them consuming entire buildings. It took a conscious effort for Harry to override his civic instincts to land and put them out.
Harry landed the broomstick outside a row of public bathrooms. Hugh staggered off the broom too, but Harry could see a little colour starting to return to his cheeks.
"So what now?"
"Um, I've never actually done this before, just heard about it from others. But I'm pretty sure it's something like this." Harry swung open the door of one of the cubicles, and stepped into the toilet bowl while a bemused and bleary-eyed Hugh looked on.
Now that he was standing here, toilet-water lapping at his shoes, it seemed awfully plausible that Fred and George had been joking when they'd described this as one of the ways to enter the Ministry.
"If this works, follow me down." He yanked the chain, and felt the world spiral around him as his form was distorted and he was sucked into the plumbing. After a disorienting moment, he was spat onto the floor in a long corridor - inside the Ministry.
Harry stood up and brushed off his clothes. After spending a week with Zorian's near-seamless teleports and gates, returning to the ungainly spaghettification of his own world was a bit of a downgrade.
He'd barely stepped out of the way when Hugh appeared by his side. He looked a bit green around the gills - the toilet-travel clearly hadn't done his nausea any good.
Harry led Hugh down the empty corridor. The sound of their shoes clacking on the polished stone floor was the only discernible noise. Whatever had happened here clearly wasn't limited to the Muggle community.
It was only a short walk to their first destination - the Hall of the Wizengamot. Harry had only been there once before, to bear witness to a trial in which his country's parliament had almost sentenced his friend to ten years in a torture-prison.
That is to say, he wasn't going there for sentimental reasons. Judging from the date and the time of day, there was a good chance that the Wizengamot had been in session when humans had vanished. If so, resting customarily on the plinth during the session would be -
Harry heaved at the great stone doors, barely budging them. After a moment, Hugh moved one of his crystals to help, and the door swung wide. The additional magical effort clearly exacerbated his aether sickness, and he wobbled on his feet for a moment before Harry reached out a hand to stabilise him.
The hall was empty. Great rows of seats, ostentatiously furnished, were arrayed around a small central space. The chair in which Hermione had been chained was long since gone, but Harry still avoided looking in that direction.
There were so many ways this might not work. Amelia Bones had already been ancient when he'd left Earth - she might have died of old age in the intervening twenty-eight years, leaving magical Britain without a Chief Warlock or a regent for the Line of Merlin Unbroken. The Wizengamot might have skipped the regular session-time for one reason or another. Or Bones might simply have been holding the rod, rather than letting it sit on the plinth in the customary fashion.
"Accio Line of Merlin." The rod would have been warded against such spells, but since Harry was its rightful bearer…
A short rod of dark stone shot downward from the uppermost ring of seats and flew into Harry's outstretched hand. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Hugh looked confused. "... What does that do?"
"It's a key. We need to move quickly."
Harry led them back out of the meeting hall, and toward the elevator doors. Thankfully, they still functioned, and once Hugh joined him inside, he pushed the lowest of the elevator buttons - one marked 'Department of Mysteries'.
There was a click as the door locked back into place, then the elevator was jerked downwards at an alarming rate. Still holding onto the latticed door, Harry grabbed Hugh's shoulder to hold him steady as well, and the (nauseous looking) crystal mage looked grateful.
Before long, the elevator halted, and the brass-lattice door swung open. A marble atrium lay before them. A wide variety of doors were set into the wall opposite - placed far too close together to lead to separate rooms, a testament to the fact that wizards really could fold space like nobody's business.
Harry looked around, seeking a particular door, and saw none which matched what he sought. After a moment of indecision, he felt a mental twinge from the stone rod in his hand, which seemed to tug him to one side. Following its guidance, he ignored the doors and confidently walked to the far edge of the atrium.
At his feet, with the seams barely visible, was a subtly differently coloured section of stone. After a moment, thin letters seemed to materialise in the centre of the square. Cold Storage.
Harry crouched down and pressed his fingers against the stone. It was cool to the touch. Hugh had followed him, but seemingly hadn't noticed the lettering, because he was idly looking at the doors.
He gently touched the rod to the lettering. The response was immediate - the square of stone sank into the ground, and slid to one side, revealing a staircase stretching downward.
Harry was halfway down when he realised Hugh wasn't following. "Hugh?"
Hugh's eyes were glazed over, and he shook his head. "Harry?"
"Hugh, I'm down here."
As if it took some kind of massive effort, Hugh wrenched his eyes downward, and eventually focused on Harry's face. As they made eye contact, Hugh's eyes flashed with realisation. "There's some kind of attention ward trying to keep me away from this trapdoor. It's very differently made to the ones I've seen before. Strange."
He looked introspective for a moment. "I wish Loarna were here. She'd have a field day with this. Do you know how to make wards like this?"
Harry shrugged sadly. "It's possible no-one on my planet does. The Interdict of Merlin stops our lore from being passed down except in person. It means that my world has been losing knowledge for generations."
Hugh nodded sadly, and followed him down the stone staircase. Now that he was aware of the 'attention ward', as he'd called it, it didn't seem to affect him nearly as much.
Three stone doors were set into the wall opposite.
Judging by the scuff-marks on the door-handle and the grooves worn into the floor, the left-most door was by far the most used. A plaque above it read 'Extraordinarily Dangerous Artefacts' in inlaid golden lettering.
The middle door looked considerably less used. The plaque above read 'Unutterably Dangerous Artefacts'.
The right-hand door simply read 'Threats'.
The hair on Harry's arms stood up.
He stepped forward, and touched the stone rod to the central door. The stone melted away, and Hugh jumped in surprise.
"Please don't touch anything."
"You don't have to tell me twice." Hugh looked wary, and his arms were wrapped around his midriff as if he were trying to keep himself warm in a blizzard. His face was still quite pale.
Harry cautiously stepped through the gap where the door had been. Hugh followed, and the stone of the door melted back into place behind them.
The room they were now in was long and narrow, and gave the impression of a particularly high-security bank vault, but more along the lines of a sensibly organised muggle bank, rather than the chaotic mess that was Gringotts. It was lit intermittently by luminescent crystals. Their dull glow reflected from dozens of transparent spheres, which hovered autonomously above a row of stone plinths which stretched out before them.
Each of the spheres contained, at its centre, a single hovering artefact.
Walking along the pathway, Harry passed a sphere containing a single dagger forged of a glinting, dark metal. Even in the dim light, the reflections from the blade drove a spike of pain into his mind, and he quickly averted his eyes.
The next held a wickedly angled wand, stained with what looked like blood.
The next sphere held what looked like the desiccated corpse of a small possum. It twitched slightly before Harry moved on.
The next contained a shifting pattern of sand grains, endlessly falling through the air in defiance of Euclidean space.
He kept moving. The important thing was that none of the spheres had recently been disturbed. If the wizarding world was responsible for the calamitous disappearance of Earth's population, then a stolen item from this room - or the next - was the most likely mechanism.
In terms of both raw magical power and magical weirdness, there weren't many things that topped the contents of these rooms. They were significant enough that this section of the ministry had been included in Bones' (very brief) briefing of the responsibilities of the Chief Warlock.
After passing more than a hundred crystalline spheres, Harry reached the final plinth, and came up against the stone end of the tunnel. For some reason, he had the strange feeling that the room would grow if he requested it.
"Alright, there's no obvious evidence of a theft. I suppose the thieves could have replaced the sealed objects with fakes, but there's not much we can do to verify that." Harry motioned for Hugh to return to the entrance, and reached out to tap the interior of the door with the dark stone rod. The stone melted away once more, and they stepped out, back into the relative brightness of the entrance room.
Swallowing nervously, he moved to face the door marked 'Threats'. He'd barely touched the rod to its surface when it seemed to fade away. Rather than the stone moving to one side (like the trapdoor above), it seemed to gradually reduce in opacity until it was no longer visible. Harry was reminded of the final oscillations of Ithos before the Exile Splinter finally ran out of mana and returned the exiled city to its homeworld.
He stepped forward, but stopped when Hugh tried to grab his shoulder.
"What?"
"You were going to walk into the wall." Hugh raised a hand and held it in midair, as if pressing it against the door.
"Ah, you can still see the door? It's no longer present to me - probably another attention ward, or something like that. I suspect the creator of this room didn't want anyone unauthorised to go inside. Stay here, I'll be back shortly."
Hugh nodded, and Harry saw his eyes flicker in confusion as Harry stepped through what looked like a wall of stone to the crystal mage.
He turned his eyes forward. The design of this room was identical to the one they'd just visited - a row of stone plinths, with crystal spheres hovering above them, stretched out before him.
There was one particular difference between this room and the previous one, however.
Every single crystal sphere, without exception, was empty.
He stood silently in place for a full five minutes.
As the time elapsed, he'd narrowed the realm of possibility down to two chief hypotheses.
The Line of Merlin had been passed down through the generations by the stewards of the magical world, who sought to keep the world safe, and hold back those threats which might put life itself in danger.
Those which could be purged from the world, would be purged - the way Harry intended to destroy the Dementors, when he finally returned to his world - if Hermione hadn't managed it in his absence.
Those which could not be destroyed, only sealed away - those were placed here, in a vault only accessible to a single person, until they passed that burden on to their successor - the way Dumbledore had passed on the Line of Merlin to him.
And somehow, every single one of these threats was no longer here.
First, it was possible that some entity or force had pulled off the heist of the millennium, and managed to retrieve not just a single one of these immensely dangerous threats, but every single one of them. Now that Voldemort was sealed into the emerald stone set into his ring, he didn't know of any entities on Earth which could have accomplished such a deed, but that did not mean there were none who could accomplish it. In addition, Harry now knew that dangers to this world did not solely come from within.
This hypothesis had a particular drawback. It did not explain why the physical world had been left untouched. The Shambling Bone-Men, for example, didn't even warrant inclusion in this room, and were left sealed in another location with lesser protections - and had they been released, it would scarcely have been possible to miss the scars left by their passage. In his first debrief with Moody, he'd been told that Dumbledore had sealed at least one phenomenon which would have left Earth a cracked and smouldering cinder. So if they had all been released, where was the widespread destruction? If some multiversal entity had swept by and relieved Earth of its payload of weapons of utter annihilation, why had they purged the planet of human life alone, and left trees and animals alive? Surely it would have been simpler to annihilate the planet entirely - and an entity able to wield that which had been sealed in this room undeniably had that capability.
His second hypothesis was rapidly gaining credence in his mind.
The Mirror was said to grant the wishes of those who stood before it. One mechanism it used to do so was conjuring alternate realms of existence, and allowing limited access to that which it had created. Harry and his companions had sought to enter Earth, and yet had been refused entry for one reason or another. Perhaps they were too dangerous, or perhaps their foreign magics were not permitted. Or perhaps the Mirror was simply one-way - it might allow people to leave Earth, but not to return.
How then would the last Atlantean construct satisfy its dual imperatives - to assist those who stood before it, and to keep safe and protect the Atlantean homeworld on Earth?
It might create a world - not Earth, but imitating the Earth in every respect, but for two - and send the visitors there instead.
The Atlanteans had seemingly valued sapient life. Creating a buffer world to satisfy potential invaders, and stocking it with innocents to be slaughtered - it didn't really seem like their style. So this false Earth - this 'reflection', Harry thought, probably wouldn't copy the human inhabitants, and expose them to danger, or obliteration, if this world was to be temporary (a somewhat concerning thought in and of itself).
According to the legends Quirrell had told him, Atlantis had constructed the Mirror with the explicit intention of ensuring it would not destroy the world. Merlin had said that it would be easier to destroy the world using a lump of cheese. A reasonable conclusion to draw was that there was one other category of item the Mirror would be loath to replicate - those stored in this room.
As such, the emptiness of every single crystal sphere, combined with the lack of any damage to the Earth itself, was sufficiently strong evidence that Harry was starting to breathe a little more easily. This (probably) wasn't the real Earth, and so (probably) the whole of humanity hadn't vanished in a single instant. He and his allies were (probably) in a reflection of Earth, designed to satisfy their needs without impinging on the true Earth's security.
His parents were (probably) still alive.
He stepped back out the square door-hole. Hugh was studying the edges of the frame, and jumped in surprise as he emerged.
"This seems to be a fake world. I think it's a copy of my world, designed to keep us here while obviating our need to travel to the true Earth."
Hugh started, but then just nodded, taking the information in stride. "That's a relief."
Harry exhaled again, some of the built-up tension slowly leaving his body. "You can say that again. We've still got to figure out how to get there, assuming that's even possible. We also have to figure out whether or not I've skipped along the surface of Time like a stone and missed twenty-eight years of the progression of my world."
Hugh reached out an arm and clapped Harry on the shoulder. The movement looked a bit awkward, as if he wasn't quite sure how to pull it off, but was trying to fill Godrick's role in the gentle giant's absence. "I'm sure we'll have it figured out in no time."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry mumbled under his breath. Straightening up, he checked his watch and spoke more clearly. "It's taken us around ninety minutes to get here. We have three and a half more hours until we arrive in my parents' house. I want to get to Zorian as quickly as possible, since he's our greatest tool for mobility and communication."
Harry readjusted his glasses and continued thinking out loud. "If the Mirror isn't cooperating with our desire to reach the true Earth, then Zorian is probably our best bet for getting there as well."
If Zorian's cryptic statements about 'the Sovereign Gate' meant what Harry thought they meant, then this wasn't the first time Zorian had encountered a problem of this nature.
"They're in Hogwarts, so we should try to meet them there. The Floo network should still be operational, since I don't think it requires active oversight from the Ministry. Between the secure starting location and the authority of the Line of Merlin, we should be able to connect directly to Hogwarts. We'll arrive well before they do, and we won't make contact until Zorian sends the mental communication from earlier - otherwise he'd already know where we are. That gives us plenty of time to gather information. Thoughts?"
Hugh nodded. "I'll defer to you on this one. This is your world, not mine."
Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure it really is, anymore." He pressed the elevator button again, and took them back to the atrium where they'd arrived.
There was a functional-seeming Floo entrance point only a few metres away from the elevator. A chalice of acrid powder protruded from the wall at waist-height next to a fireplace. Despite not having been tended for at least a few hours, the embers still glowed heartily - the hallmark of a magically sustained flame.
Harry frowned. He'd only ever travelled with native English speakers through the Floo network. Typically, the traveller would state the name of their destination, step into the flames and be whisked away. If a prospective traveller could only speak Ithonian, however, should they state the translation of their destination in their mother tongue, or should they say the original English words, which they only recently learned?
It probably wasn't physically dangerous to try one of those methods, given that Floo travel rarely resulted in splinching or the similar dangers typical of apparition. That being said, sending Hugh on his own to a random destination in magical Britain would not be an ideal outcome.
Harry cleared his throat. "This, ah, probably won't be great for your indigestion. Follow my instructions carefully, or you might end up very far away."
Hugh nodded, looking worse-for-wear, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy. Even though Harry was under a huge amount of stress, this probably wasn't a walk in the park for his teenage companion either.
"It works like this. Take a pinch of Floo powder, and throw it into the fireplace. The flames should momentarily flash green. State your destination, then step into the fireplace. Judging from the way most of magical Britain is constructed, I think the destination is keyed to the explicit English phrase describing it. Our destination is Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts. Actually, scratch that, it should be Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts. I think, at least."
He made sure to enunciate the English syllables clearly to Hugh, and had him repeat them three times.
"In case you do get lost, take this." He pulled the telepathic relay from his bag and handed it over to Hugh. "It should help Zorian find you by speaking into your mind."
Hugh turned the disc over in his hands, before making it disappear by some mechanism Harry couldn't discern.
Hugh looked back up at Harry, and there was a hint of steel in his gaze. "Let's go."
Harry took a pinch of the powder and scattered it above the glowing embers. The flames erupted into a green conflagration that filled the black stone fireplace.
"Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts."
He stepped into the fire, and felt his body sucked inwards and rotated about himself. Even though he hadn't felt any aether sickness upon returning to a facsimile of his own world, his stomach churned.
After an instant, he was spat out onto a thick, woolly carpet, and rolled to the side to make way for Hugh's arrival. He came through a moment later, and Harry breathed out yet another tensely-held breath. Hugh summoned the telepathic relay back into his hands, and wordlessly handed it back to Harry as they both took in their surroundings.
The stone office had small windows on every side, looking out into the forests below the castle. The remaining walls were stacked with bookshelves, and the centre of the richly furnished room was dominated by a large desk. A collection of mind-boggling artefacts were scattered about, many of them on the desk, others mounted on the wall and set onto the bookshelves. Compared to the ones Harry had just seen in the Ministry, these were probably nothing special, but the ones Harry didn't recognise certainly looked peculiar.
A bubbling noise was coming from a hand-sized twisting spiral sculpture. It seemed to be repeatedly raising a bronze ball, only to drop it into a vat of acid, where it dissolved, then re-solidified beside the vat at the base of the spiral. A silvery plate rested to the right of the desk-chair, and above it hovered a peculiar gold metal arrow. The arrowhead was eerily rotating to point directly at Harry as he moved around the room.
A voice spoke above the noise from the odd devices, and Harry's wand leaped into his hand before he recognised it. It was a clipped, precise Scottish accent, coming from a large portrait of a stern-looking witch, that hung from the wall behind the room's main chair.
"Harry Potter. My, my, it has been a long time."
13 - Snake
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Harry
Harry looked up at the larger-than-life portrait with a lump in his mouth.
"Hello, Professor."
Professor McGonagall looked down at him, the skin near her eyes creasing with familiarity. "My dear boy, it has been a rather long time. I am very glad you've chosen to return, but we'd all hoped it would happen sooner."
Harry swallowed, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking. "But I haven't returned yet, have I? We're in some kind of hidden world, and unlike humans, you were copied across because you're not really sapient. Are you?"
The image of the Scottish witch looked sadly down at him. "I'm afraid not, Mr Potter. I have the memories I had when I was painted, but most memories formed since then fade faster, if they're formed at all. I remember enough of you to know that you would not call this," she gestured to herself, "a true Minerva, merely a shallow copy."
Hugh was looking at the moving portrait with wide eyes, and Harry remembered with a flash of embarrassment that Hugh couldn't speak English.
"This is an old friend of mine. Or at least, the image of one," Harry explained in Ithonian. Hugh nodded, and raised a hand in greeting to the painting. The shadow of Professor McGonagall smiled, and waved back.
Harry looked back to McGonagall and stood up a little straighter. "What year is it?"
The old witch looked bemused. "That's not the kind of thing we portraits are particularly good at remembering. I do remember the turn of the millennium though. That was quite a spectacle."
"Have there been any major magical or non-magical disasters in the last thirty years?"
McGonagall took off her glasses and wiped them clean with a cloth she pulled from a pocket. "After you, Dumbledore and Voldemort all vanished in the span of a week, there was a substantial power vacuum, as you might well imagine. Madam Bones, Ms Granger and Mr Malfoy managed to hold the country together, but it was no small thing. There was, of course, the Cleansing of Azkaban, and some would deem that a disaster, although I do not count myself among their number. You should ask Ms Granger about that when you see her, that was quite a piece of work. Nothing comes to mind since then."
His heart racing, Harry allowed himself a small smile at that. "What is the current population of Earth?"
The witch frowned. "Somewhere in the billions, I believe."
No massive surprises there. Better to cover all the major bases though.
"Is the Statute of Secrecy still in effect?"
The Professor nodded.
"Has a nuclear weapon been detonated in the last thirty years in a non-test environment?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Any contact with aliens? Not counting him," Harry said, gesturing at Hugh.
She shook her head.
"Have the Muggles - or the wizards, for that matter - made progress with nanotechnology? Or artificial intelligence?"
"Oh, I'm sure the Muggle scientists are up to something. Ms Granger does mention it from time to time. I think she has it under control."
That was an odd choice of words - definitely something to chase up later.
"Alright, that's the big ones. Any significant advances in the study of magic?"
"Nothing more impressive to me than -" she covered her mouth with her hand to prevent her words from reaching Hugh. "Partial transfiguration. Which is as-yet unreplicated, for that matter."
"From what you've said, Hermione is alive. Is that correct?"
She nodded.
"Which of the following people are alive: Draco, my parents, Alastor Moody, Severus Snape - although you might not know about that one, Madam Bones, Neville Longbottom."
"To my knowledge, all of those people are alive, although Alastor did lose his left hand while tracking down those responsible for the attempted Fiendfyre Plot."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Really, all of them? That's excellent news. How is Madam Bones managing? She was already quite old thirty years ago."
McGonagall grimaced. "I would hesitate to say that she is managing well, but she is alive. You can thank Ms Granger and her unicorn blood for that. Neither of them particularly enjoy the arrangement, but it's far better than leaving the Wizengamot without even a regent for the position of Chief Warlock.
"Wait, you mean -"
She nodded gravely. "After extensive testing, it has been determined that Ms Granger can regenerate around three litres of blood a day without impairing her function, which, when freely given, is approximately sufficient to keep a single person in a state of… well, not health and vigour, but it will keep them alive."
Harry looked down at the pockets of his robes, which at present contained both the Philosopher's Stone and the Elder Wand.
Dumbledore's last act, before he was sealed away by the Mirror, was to ensure that the world would be able to go on without him. He'd laid careful plans to pass on the Line of Merlin to its next bearer, and in the final instant as the Seal took hold, he'd thrown both the Line and the Wand to one side, so that the wizarding world would not be without these vital tools even as it lost its greatest wizard.
When the Exile Splinter had taken him from his world, there had been a split second in which he could act. Perhaps enough time to throw the Philosopher's Stone to one side, and leave it behind in his world. How many lives would have been saved by that single action that he'd failed to take?
This was no time to wallow.
"Professor, are there any other events of note that you know of that I've missed?"
She looked down at him sadly. "There is one."
The look in her painted eyes seemed to carry some meaning that it took Harry too long to understand.
"Professor," Harry asked, although it sounded like his voice was coming from far away. "Where is the real McGonagall?"
Some distant part of him heard the portrait's response, as another part of him noted, dispassionately, that it would be rather odd for the current Headmistress of Hogwarts to place a portrait of herself behind her desk, rather than keeping the image of her predecessor there for advice.
"I'm afraid she died shortly after this painting was completed. A wasting disease, I believe. Quite incurable."
It wasn't incurable, of course. Almost nothing was incurable when you had the Stone of Permanence. A simple temporary transformation was all that was required to create the desired bodily state, with Polyjuice potion, medical transfiguration, or otherwise, then make the changes permanent. Voila, a new body.
But they hadn't had the Stone. It had been (as per Harry's current guess) with him, stuck in whatever timeless void he'd been stored in until the Exile Splinter had successfully won the battle against the Mirror to pull him into Ithos. And so McGonagall was dead.
"Professor," Harry said, voice shaking. "Is there anything else you think I should know?"
"I think," she said, voice soft. "You should know that there are many people who care about you very much. They will be glad to see you again."
"Th- thank you Professor. I'm working on it."
He turned away from the painting, blinking away tears.
"Alright, Hugh," he said, switching back to Ithonian and trying to sound as controlled as possible. "Want to check out an alien library?"
Hugh shrugged with a bit of an odd expression. "I won't be able to read any of the books, will I?"
"Well, no, but there are probably some ward-diagrams that might make sense."
Hugh perked up. "That would be great, actually. I can sense some information-gathering wards here, and I think they're far beyond my current skill to create."
Harry turned back to the painting. "One last question, Professor. I know it's not strictly allowed, but if you remember it, could you tell me the password to the stairs?"
McGonagall's face creased into the mock image of a stern disciplinarian. "Mister Potter! That is thoroughly inappropriate. A portrait would be entirely outside of its remit if it told a student that the current password to the Headmaster's office was 'Flubberwump gargantuanto'."
Harry managed a weak grin, and something inside of him broke. There would be a time for grieving later. Now, he had problems to solve. "Thank you, Professor." And he was off.
Hugh Stormward
Harry led Hugh down a set of spiral stairs which seemed to autonomously rotate on their axis. Here on Harry's world - or a copy of it, as this seemed to be - magic was behaving very oddly. Now that his initial sickness was subsiding, he could feel the aether flow around him as it slowly refiled his mana reservoirs. It felt more sluggish here, but his crystals were still responding as usual.
The painting of the old woman seemed to act as some kind of memory-imprint, which was rare, but not unheard of on Anastis. It didn't appear to be at all rare here, as dozens of portraits cluttered the grey-stone walls. Many of the portraits' inhabitants appeared to be asleep, and some awoke as they passed, crying out to them in the odd guttural language that seemed to be native to Harry's world.
The staircases drifted and moved as Harry walked across them, which was certainly a little disquieting. Nevertheless, Harry moved quickly and confidently through the maze of corridors and staircases, and before long they found themselves in a relatively conventional-looking library. Harry directed Hugh toward the section on permanent wards before dashing off through the broad bookshelves, clearly looking for something specific.
The library here (in 'Hogwarts', apparently) was a pleasantly cosy place. The aesthetic was far removed from the small house they'd arrived in - far larger, and grander, for one. In contrast to the harsh stone and (in Hugh's experience thus far) constant danger of Skyhold, the cold granite of the floor here was covered by rich, soft carpets, and the library itself was interspersed with armchairs and couches. Hugh had asked, and Harry had confirmed that he didn't know of any circumstances in which an armchair had eaten a student in recent memory. He had also said that if you went high enough in the castle, students had been known to vanish for months at a time for unclear reasons. That made Hugh a little more relaxed around the armchairs, but he also resolved not to climb any stairs without Harry's guidance.
Idly leafing through a randomly chosen book in Harry's illegible language, Hugh mused on the differences between magical realms. His… home, he supposed, in Skyhold, had been carved out of stone by mages of great strength hundreds of years ago. In time, it had become a rabbit-warren of interconnected tunnels and hidden chambers. Hogwarts, it seemed, had converged on a similar complex internal structure. Except, here, mages were apparently unconstrained by affinity types, which resulted in an altogether more uniform space.
In Skyhold, it wasn't rare to stumble on an entire collection of rooms which had been carved out by Kanderon herself from crystal, or by a particularly ambitious wind-mage demonstrating their control, or by a heat-mage melting pockets out of the mountain's heart, or by some other esoteric process. As a consequence, the rooms varied greatly in their construction and style. Here, although there was some variation, it seemed there was a distinct tradition in Harry's wizarding culture - one of both comfort and style.
Three bookshelves over, Hugh's crystal affinity sense could feel Rain's aura anchors in Harry's necklace bobbing around as the young wizard kept searching for particular books. Not knowing the language, there wasn't much Hugh could do to help, so he took the opportunity to lean back into one of the richly upholstered armchairs that dotted the library.
Hugh hadn't slept since before Zorian's group had arrived in Skyhold, and could feel his eyelids drooping already. He took a quick moment to set up his crystal wardstones to form a protective cube around the armchair - better safe than sorry, after all - and almost immediately fell asleep.
It felt like he'd barely closed his eyes when he blearily opened them in response to a chiming noise. Unable to wake him the normal way because of his crystalline defences, it seemed Harry had resorted to summoning a small diamond, and was using his own affinity to bounce it off the side of the cube.
Harry didn't look scared or urgent, so Hugh took a moment to yawn, and rotated the hovering crystals back into his storage tattoo. With a sigh of relief, he noted that he could once again feel his bond with Mackerel - the unruly spellbook was far away, no doubt, but now at least it was in the same plane as he was.
"How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
Harry looked down at a small device on his arm - some kind of mechanical timekeeper, probably. It seemed to have a crystal face protecting the mechanical innards.
"Around three hours. I wanted to let you sleep, it's been a long day. Time to get up now, Zorian and the others arrived through the Mirror a few minutes ago. Here, I also picked up a few books specifically on warding for you to look at later, when you're more awake."
Hugh took the proffered books, and wiggled around in the armchair, not quite finding the strength of will to leave the cushy chair so soon. "Do you have any more of that medicine you gave me earlier?"
Harry reached out to give him a hand. "Yeah. Are you still feeling nauseous?"
Hugh grinned. "No, but I bet the others will be."
Harry snorted, an unexpected sound from such an accomplished mage. "I bet. There's plenty of beds in the common rooms, they can have some time to lie down if they want."
Harry led him back out of the library, back into the maze of staircases and hallways. This time, their journey was steep downwards, through spiralling pathways that didn't feel like they could quite fit together logically.
A crashing noise came from around the corner, and Harry switched into a slow jog. Following him, Hugh turned the corner, and saw a stone figure, almost the full width of the hallway, which had just punched through a door, taking a good chunk of the wall with him.
"... Artur?"
The figure turned to face them. The stone of the head melted down into the arms, revealing Artur's face. An expression of controlled fury was easily legible, despite the mounting nausea Hugh could see in Artur's face. Even though Artur's eyes were locked onto Harry, Hugh still took a hurried step back as the giant's arm crushed a nearby statue.
"Where is my son?"
Harry's response was calm. "If my understanding of the Mirror's functions is correct, he and Rain were likely transported to Rain's home. From his accent, I think that's likely to be in Canada or the United States, somewhere in North America. If you give me a minute, I can verify that."
Artur's expression cooled a little. "Please do."
Harry took a step back away from the rubble around Artur's stone form, and withdrew his wand from a pocket. He said some kind of strange incantation, and from behind a corner, Hugh saw a pure white light bathing the hallway.
"Find Godrick. Tell him that you're a messenger from Harry. Ask him: Is he safe? Where is he?"
In an instant, the light was whisked away, moving faster than the eye could follow, and Harry relaxed. "I've never tested the speed of a patronus before, so this will be interesting. Given that Rain can move pretty fast, and they've had around twenty minutes in this world, I wouldn't be surprised if they're on their way here already."
Taking a cue from Harry's attitude, Artur's stone armour began to melt back into the walls and floor, and a moment later, his body - still massive, but much smaller than his armour - stepped out.
"So, this is yeh home?"
Harry nodded. "One of them. It's my school - Skyhold is the closest comparison."
Artur pursed his lips and looked around. "Nice enough place, I suppose." He gestured at the cratered door from which he'd emerged. "Sorry about the wall."
Harry made a dismissive noise. "Don't worry about it, this is a spare reality anyway - but please don't do that when we get back to my actual world. Where's Zorian?"
As if on cue, Sabae and one of Zorian's simulacra stepped over the wreckage left by Artur, and into the hallway. This simulacrum looked identical to the original Zorian, and the only reason Hugh could tell the difference was because of the strange semi-crystalline structure of its metallic bones.
Sabae dashed over to embrace Hugh, and the simulacrum walked over to Harry. The pair of them shared a series of odd glances and took a few steps away from the group - they were probably communing via some kind of mind magic.
A burst of light around the corner signalled the return of Harry's patronus. At first, in an odd echoing facsimile of Harry's voice: "Godrick says:"
And then, Godrick's voice, accent and all:
"Ah'm alright! Ye gave me quite a shock though. So this glowin' thing is from Harry? I'm with Rain and Mackerel. We're on our way to 'England', Rain says. Somewhere above the 'Atlantic ocean'. Should be there in a few hours, he thinks."
By Hugh's side, Artur looked faint with relief, and he put an appreciative hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank ye."
Alustin and Talia picked their way through the rubble, and Hugh rushed over to his girlfriend's side. "Are you alright?"
She looked up at him, short red hair framing her freckled face, and sank into his arms, resting her head against his chest. "No, I feel terrible. We all do."
As if to punctuate her words, Artur turned and retched, for all the world looking like his body was ridding him of the anxiety it had been holding in.
"Right, of course, the aether sickness. Harry, the pills?"
Harry reached a hand into his bag, and pulled out a small container and a water bottle. Hugh handed them to Talia, who took one, then passed them on to Alustin. Alustin, Hugh noted, didn't actually take a pill - he surreptitiously palmed it into his storage tattoo when he thought no-one else was looking.
Hugh shrugged internally. If Alustin wanted to keep distrusting their comrades after everything they'd been through together, then that was his choice. His paranoia, his untreated nausea, Hugh figured.
Talia looked up at Hugh, her face part nauseous and part confused. "How come you're not getting aether sickness?"
Hugh choked out a laugh, and wrapped his arm around her slightly shivering shoulders. "I had my fair share of it already, thank you very much. I've just had five hours to get used to this world."
Talia looked confused, but Hugh just jerked his head toward Harry, who was still silently communing with Zorian. "Some sort of… time magic? From him. He seems to have a trick for every situation, it's pretty awesome."
Talia sniffled. "Why did you wind up with him, instead of here with us?"
Hugh hesitated. "I'm not sure. Why did you end up here?"
Talia sniffled again. "Well, I wasn't about to let him out of my sight," she said, gesturing to Zorian, whose real body was now stepping over the rubble to join them. "Not when he could seize control of everyone else's mind without me to stop him."
Hugh ran his fingers through her hair, and spoke a little more softly into her ear. "It's good you're here to look after us, but I don't think any of them mean us harm."
She groaned and rested more of her weight on him. The aether sickness was clearly beginning to properly set in - Harry's medicine would take the edge off eventually, but it had taken an hour to kick in for him. "You know, you could do with a little more paranoia. You should talk to Sabae's grandmother about that, I'm sure she'd set you straight."
The original Zorian turned to everyone, and clasped his hands together. He looked a little worse for wear, but nowhere near as bad as Hugh had felt. "Harry and I need to take a closer look at the Mirror. Please come with us - it's safer if we stay together."
Hugh reached out an arm to hold Sabae steady - she was shaking too, now, despite the medicine - and placed a series of crystals within reach for Artur and Alustin to lean on. Supporting four friends at once, he turned to walk back toward the Mirror.
Zorian
Without Rain here to refill his mana directly, Zorian was finally feeling the full consequences of being on an unfamiliar world.
It did not feel good.
The energies of his soul were twisting and churning, struggling to stay functional in the roiling mess of magic that was Harry's world as it absorbed and processed the ambient mana around him. As soon as he'd noticed the changes, he'd dedicated a simulacrum to resting and trying to calm his soul - the same as he'd done upon returning to his own world from inside the Sovereign Gate, when he'd… returned… to his original body. It was helping, but he could still feel the strain as he maintained his five simulacra and began to investigate the Mirror in earnest - carefully, this time.
From inside the Mirror's vast summoned world, the Mirror itself looked much the same. He still couldn't make head or tail of its overall construction, but in concept, it was gradually becoming clear that it had more in common with the Sovereign Gate than with the Exile Splinter. Rather than separating existing realities from one another, the Mirror seemed to create realities - a power which he'd only seen once before.
Harry's voice sounded in his mind, from where the boy was leaning on the wall, not far away. <My current hypothesis is that this reality is a transient one, created on our arrival to contain us, and I've seen a fair amount of evidence to support it. That would explain why the portraits report seeing people vanish around five hours ago - that's the longest gap in time that can be crossed with the Time Turner, so from the Mirror's perspective, there was no point creating this world earlier than that.>
Once again, despite the clear (apparent) lack of hostile intent, there was something off about Harry's mental communication. Zorian couldn't quite place it - at least not without breaking down Harry's defences entirely, which this, however unsettling, didn't quite warrant.
Zorian and his simulacra focused back on the Mirror. Now that he'd used the device to travel between realities, he could more keenly sense the internal connections between the planes. The Mirror served as a link between worlds, but it was apologetically refusing to allow him access to anything beyond the world in which they stood, or the labyrinth from which they'd entered.
<Harry, the Mirror is by far the best warded device I've ever seen, and yet the Exile Splinter managed to take you from your world. How?>
Harry had retrieved the small training cube Zorian had made for him from his bag, and was idly turning it over in his hands. <I was wondering the same thing. The Mirror clearly made this reality for us. We're unlikely to be the first visitors, so there's probably some other realities inside it. How could the Splinter take me from the true Earth, when that's probably the one that's most strongly protected?>
Zorian sensed the moment of realisation in Harry's mind before the younger boy clamped down on his emotions.
Zorian gave the boy an exasperated look. <Care to share what you just figured out? We're not going to make much progress if you keep hiding things from me.>
Harry grinned, and tossed the training cube into the air with one hand, before catching it. <I would like to tell you, actually. But there's something we need to do first.>
<Oh yeah?> Zorian asked, mentally rolling his eyes. <What's that?>
"First, we're going to find a snake," Harry said out loud. "And then we need to have a long conversation."
Harry
Harry's mind was working in overdrive trying to solve the puzzle of collaborating with Zorian.
Zorian was almost exactly the kind of person Harry wanted to have by his side - calm, systematic, and absurdly skilled. His skill set covered a huge number of areas, including many in which Harry was in dire need of assistance - like travelling between planes, for instance.
That being said, there was a major reason why Harry was holding off on telling Zorian his current cache of hypotheses about how to reach Earth. It was because by their very nature, they involved some of the secrets Harry most wanted to keep… well, secret. Releasing the true nature of Voldemort's current predicament into the wider world was a terrible risk, one which Harry was unwilling, and indeed in present circumstances unable, to take.
Since Rain and the others didn't seem like they'd be a huge amount of help with crafting whatever portal was required to return home, he would be happily able to proceed without telling them much at all about the true nature of the ring on his finger. But trying to keep Zorian in the dark while still making use of his expertise in inter-planar travel was a non-starter.
There were a few options available to Harry which might serve as a tool to ensure Zorian's honesty, cooperation and long-term discretion. The first which came to Harry's mind was an Unbreakable Vow. While he didn't know the spell himself, he did have access to the entirety of the Hogwarts library, and here there was no one stopping him from waltzing around the restricted section as he pleased. However, Zorian didn't seem like the type to agree to take an Unbreakable Vow to keep secret something which he hadn't been told yet, so that idea was probably a non-starter.
There was another tool which came to mind, though. One designed, as far as Harry knew, for exactly this kind of purpose - enabling honest collaboration between two wizards who might otherwise be forced to plot against one another. Salazar Slytherin's constructed language, in which Harry and Voldemort had exchanged their final honest words before their divergent value systems compelled them to pursue mutual annihilation.
Harry wasn't completely certain how Parseltongue actually worked, despite his earlier tests on everything from pythons to carrots. Quirrell had certainly believed that it was impossible to lie in the snake-tongue, and despite his simulated minds which could fool Veritaserum and legilimency, Harry hadn't managed to deceive the snake-tongue yet. So there was a good chance that Zorian would be compelled to speak the truth when speaking Parseltongue too.
Taking the form of a snake, via the Animagus process or otherwise, was insufficient to understand Parseltongue. As Quirrell had put it, that would have been a rather glaring hole in Salazar's design. The mechanism was, as Harry understood it, that a parselmouth willed the snake-form listener to understand their words, and that this in some way acted as a key. How exactly that worked, Harry wasn't sure - but given that Zorian could possess and control others, including animals, it seemed plausible that he would be able to take control of a snake, and through it, understand and respond to Harry's words.
There were a number of risks in this plan, but as best Harry could see, the benefits massively outweighed them. If Harry and Zorian could speak honestly to one another, then they'd finally be able to really work together to unravel the puzzle of the Mirror, and perhaps collaborate in the long term to their mutual benefit. It would be a bit of a gamble, but if it paid off, the rewards would be commensurate with the risks.
This line of reasoning led Harry to appreciate that the Mirror had replicated Earth's non-sapient life, and that Scotland had a single kind of native snake. Harry could only hope that the acromantula colony near Hogwarts hadn't eaten them all. So Zorian, two of his simulacra, and Harry set out to the Forbidden Forest to find a Scottish adder.
Zorian
They left most of the others behind in the Ravenclaw common room to lie down, along with a simulacrum - the one that was still entirely focused on calming the roiling energies of Zorian's soul. Two of the other simulacra had headed south, to try to make contact when Rain and Godrick got within range of the telepathic relays.
For an as-yet unclear reason, Harry and the original Zorian were combing a wide section of forest for snakes. A pair of simulacra were nearby, scanning the forest on either side. It took a surprisingly long time. Although the forests here were teeming with life, Zorian's mind-sense mostly found field-mice, insects and a variety of birds.
In the end, Harry tapped Zorian on the shoulder as the two of them floated past the tree-trunks on a disc of force. "About a hundred and twenty metres in that direction, behind a small tree. There's a long, slow-moving pattern of carbon. Is it a snake?"
Zorian moved their disc in that direction, and focused his mind in that area. Diving into the consciousness of the forest dwelling creature, he encouraged it to flicker out its tongue and taste the air.
<Yep, that's an adolescent snake, recently hatched, I think. Nice catch.>
It was impressive that Harry's affinity sense had this level of precision after only a week or so. Perhaps Zorian had been wrong to deem the affinities on Anastis an excessive risk…
Zorian mentally nudged the snake, and it dislodged itself from the rock on which it had been sunbathing, and began to move toward them. After a few seconds of disc-travel, it came into view - a small brown and white textured snake, perhaps half a metre long.
Although Zorian had seen himself from other eyes before, including snakes that he'd practised on while training to parse the Aranean memory-packages, it was still a little strange to see himself like this. From the snake's eyes, Zorian and Harry both looked enormous. He reached out and mentally calmed the snake as it felt unstructured magic take hold of its form, lifting it into the air, and into Zorian's outstretched hand. It nestled itself closer and coiled up, enjoying the warmth emitted from the bare skin.
Zorian lowered them to the ground and dismissed the disc. <What now?>
Harry stepped back, and opened his mouth.
"Hsssss ssss sshsshssss," said Harry.
"Hsssss ssss sshsshssss," heard Zorian through his human ears.
"Can you underssstand me?" heard the snake nestled into Zorian's sleeve.
And in that instant, Zorian felt something latch onto the surface of his soul. He instantly shed the snake-form, dropping it to the forest floor, but it wasn't enough. A parcel of energy had traced his mental connection with the snake, and was searing a new pattern into Zorian's soul - one which hadn't been there before.
Two simulacra teleported in, seized Harry with unstructured telekinesis, and teleported him into the sky.
It didn't help. The magic had taken hold. He might not have noticed it, if not for his experience infiltrating the Imperial Treasury with Zach and Quatatch-Ichl. Somehow, no matter where they fled with their loot, their pursuers had been able to track them down. In the end, with the old lich's help, Zorian had discovered a tiny, near-invisible marker on his soul, placed by a divine artefact in the Treasury's security system, which had led their pursuers to him. After that experience, he'd made sure to keep a close eye on his soul, and any modifications to it.
This felt… different. It wasn't just a marker. It was binding him, constraining him in some way that he as yet couldn't detect.
Zorian reached out into the shared consciousness of his simulacra, who held Harry in a vice-like magical grip, hundreds of metres in the sky above the forest. Wind whipped at their clothes, and Harry's wand and bag were already in the grip of one of the simulacra, seized with unstructured telekinesis the moment he had felt things going wrong.
<What have you done.>
Harry's head was the only part of him that could still move - the others were held fast by Zorian's magic. "It's not an attack! It's just a tool, so that you can talk to me and we can trust each other!" His voice was barely audible above the wind, but Zorian could have gleaned the meaning from his words regardless, given the mental pressure he was now exerting.
<You could have trusted me, instead of trying to cage my soul! That possibility is behind us, now.>
With that, Zorian attacked in earnest. Harry's mind shield was oddly constructed, and undeniably strong for someone his age. But Zorian had every advantage, in terms of skill, raw strength and numbers. The mental feelers of two of his simulacra skittered over the surface of Harry's mind, searching for weaknesses.
"Stop, Zorian, don't make me do this!"
Zorian and his simulacra were unanimous.
<You decided you couldn't trust us. Why would we trust you?>
Harry's mind shield began to crumble under the strain of being attacked by two minds at once, and Zorian began to see snippets of what Harry was trying to hide. A flash of a long white-bearded male face, a young witch with chestnut curls reading a book by his side, a high-pitched laugh and a sensation of despair, an odd focus on the emerald stone embedded into one of Harry's rings...
Why, Professor Quirrell, why?
But Zorian wasn't in complete control, not yet, and in a fraction of a second one of his simulacra was torn apart from the inside, as the reinforcing carbon nanotubes wound around its bones wrenched themselves free and sliced through its ectoplasmic flesh. Threads began to unwind inside the other simulacrum too, tearing apart its body, but it responded in time, and protected its head with a powerful shield. Although its torso was shredded, the incredibly thin nanotube threads could only buffet at the outside of the shield, and he was able to exert enough pressure to hold the ones in his skull in place by brute force.
Through the single intact head that still floated in the sky by Harry's side, Zorian and his copies redoubled their efforts. His other minds - the simulacrum by the mirror, and the two hovering above the English coast - joined in synchrony, and together they froze Harry's mind and magic, piece by piece, until Harry was silent, staring out through eyes he was unable to move.
<Now, Harry, please explain exactly what you've done.>
Harry's response was calmer, now that the power dynamics of their situation had become clear.
<I have secrets.>
Zorian, back on the forest floor, still scouring his soul for other unwanted changes, gritted his teeth. <That is abundantly clear, and will soon no longer be the case.>
<No, I mean I have really really important secrets. 'It might end the world if this gets out' kind of secrets. And I am literally incapable of sharing those secrets unless I'm sure of certain things. I was hoping we could work on some of those important things together. You seem like a good person, you know.>
Now that Zorian was in full control, he could tell that Harry was telling the truth. Harry really had forcibly constrained Zorian's soul in some kind of misguided attempt to simplify their collaboration and deepen their friendship. Even searching deeper, Zorian couldn't find a single hint of animosity from the young wizard - Harry seemed to regard Zorian as a dear friend, despite hardly knowing him.
<Why didn't you ask me first?>
<Because you would have said no. And there's no way the two of us can work together in the long term without some way to trust each other. Am I wrong?>
Back on the forest floor, Zorian was examining the fragmented marker that was now inlaid into his soul. It seemed not to constrain the use of his magic, nor allow him to be externally tracked, like the soul marker from the Imperial Treasury. But then again, hidden functions were par for the course when it came to this sort of thing.
<What is this soul marker supposed to do?>
<Ah, so it came through as a modification to your soul? I guess that explains your reaction.> Zorian felt Harry wince internally. <I really am sorry about that. It's supposed to act as a channel to let you understand Parseltongue. As a parselmouth myself, I can grant snakes the capacity to understand it. I'd speculated on how that might work, and I suppose we have our answer. Some kind of soul-magic. Unfortunate.>
<And why is that worth this - ah, you can't lie in Parseltongue. Or at least, you think you can't lie in Parseltongue.>
The simulacrum by Harry's side had let most of its fractured metal skeleton fall hundreds of metres to the forest below, and new limbs of ectoplasm were slowly growing outward from the still-intact head.
<Try it.>
<You mean, you want me to possess that snake again, allow it to talk to you? Do you think I'm an idiot?>
<You can see my thoughts, right? I'm almost certain that there will be no further effects on your soul.>
That was true - Harry's mind was quite sure that whatever soul effects had occurred thanks to this odd snake interaction, there would be no more.
Zorian sighed. Whatever recklessness had possessed Harry to try this course of action, it was crystal clear in Harry's mind that it had been in service of a greater, common goal. It would be foolish to throw that away, now that the risks had been taken - even if a better informed Zorian would have refused to even attempt this plan to begin with.
<Do NOT try anything like this again.>
Harry's response was desperately trying to come off as diplomatic rather than smug. <If this works, I won't have to.>
Zorian rolled his eyes, and the now re-formed ectoplasmic simulacrum teleported Harry back down to the ground - without relinquishing control over his muscles or magic.
Zorian's mind roved through the nearby forest, searching for the snake that had sparked this altercation. Surprisingly, it hadn't travelled far, and was nervously curled into a tree-root a metre or so from Zorian's right foot. Reaching back into its mind, it became clear that it had quite enjoyed the experience of nestling up to Zorian's hand, and of being part of a larger mind - but not the chaos that had come after.
Zorian let out a small sigh. At least someone here trusted him.
The little snake was lifted into the air by telekinetic threads, and tucked itself back into Zorian's sleeve. He turned to face Harry's paralysed form, which the simulacrum was holding steady with one hand.
<Snakes can't talk, Harry.>
<Just try it.>
Zorian instructed the snake to open its mouth, and hiss.
"I will be very annoyed if you do sssomething like that again."
Zorian frowned internally. What he'd tried to say was that he would kill Harry if he did something like that again. Apparently, that would have been a lie.
He could feel Harry's mental satisfaction. <See, there we have it. The beginning of a trusting relationship. Would you like to release my mouth so I can tell you some truths that have been a long time coming?>
Sensing no hint of hostility, Zorian relaxed his control over Harry's mouth - although he still kept Harry's magics tightly controlled.
Harry began to hiss. "I intend you no harm, and do not foressssee these intentions changing. I will take no further actions which modify your sssoul without your express consent, and intend to ensure your sssafety in the vast majority of the futuresss I can imagine."
Neither the simulacra nor the original's ears could discern any meaning, but the brown-and-white patterned snake now tucked into Zorian's sleeve heard each word. It was somehow using Zorian's soul-marker as a key, and understood both the words and the absolute truth that Harry believed them.
"Now for the important ones."
Harry continued hissing.
"If I tell you why I was taken from my world, can I trust you to keep it sssecret unless you believe that doing so would cause great harm, and that I would endorse the indiscretion? Know that I value the future of conscious life above all else."
Zorian stood for a moment, thinking. Then, from his sleeve, came a short hiss:
"Yesss."
"Can you also state that you mean me no harm, do not see this changing in nearly all possible futures unless you expect me to cause harm to you or yours, and will lend me your aid in my quest to ensure the safety of conscious life?"
Once again, Zorian stood quietly for a moment, before his snake-form agreed.
"Can you also state that you will keep all of my other secrets I tell you now, again, unless you believe I would endorse your indiscretion?"
Zorian agreed a third time.
Harry switched back to mental communication. <This ring is the temporarily transfigured and memory-wiped form of Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of my world. I must periodically sustain the transfiguration, or his form will return. In your terms, he is a lich, with a vast number of phylacteries, and is consequently immortal in the usual sense.>
Zorian leant back against a tree as Harry continued.
<Relatedly, I have some theories as to why the three of us were the ones taken by the Exile Splinter.>
Zorian tilted his head, looking oddly at Harry's immobilised form. <Go on.>
<Rain is obvious - he produces and processes vast amounts of mana, and from what he's said of his world, he appears to be specialised in that to an almost unheard of degree. If the Splinter had some fixed amount of strength it could exert, and wanted to seize the most mana-rich individual possible, Rain is a natural choice.>
<And me?>
<Well, you're a bit trickier, and I'm less certain about you. The best I've got is your network of simulacra. If the Splinter performed some kind of search, then it's far likelier to find you than it is to find anyone else, since there are so many of you running around. Besides, I've been meaning to ask - were any of your simulacra dungeon delving when you were taken?>
Zorian thought back to his meeting in Falkinrea, before he'd been taken. A pair of simulacra had been on a rather dangerous journey into the deeper dungeon, looking for deposits of crystallised mana now that he'd exhausted those on the surface level.
<... yes.>
<Right, that was probably a factor. Now, on to me. I was immediately confused when I realised how strong the two of you are. In a fair fight, either you or Rain would tear me apart in an instant, especially before the carbon affinity - which I couldn't have obtained without both of you helping me. In terms of raw magical power, the disparity is even greater. So why was I taken alongside the two of you?>
Harry didn't sound humble, the way someone else might have sounded saying the same things. Instead, he was simply stating what he perceived to be a fact.
<Besides, your world was unprotected, Zorian - there was nothing stopping the Splinter from taking you. Rain's world was protected, but those protections had been ruptured - by the Maelstrom, he tells us. So how was I taken, from inside the last great creation of Atlantis, which has been protecting its children from the harsh multiverse since time immemorial?>
<Get to the point, Harry.>
<Right, sorry. It was seeing the fiendfyre that helped me figure it out, in the end. I don't think the Splinter took me at all. I think it took Voldemort. I just happened to be wearing him on my finger.>
There was a pause before the puzzle clicked for Zorian, and he started to fill in the missing details:
<Right, that's why you think the fiendfyre could track you - it was trying to free its master, or something like that. And the Mirror couldn't protect Voldemort because he created the fiendfyre spell and imbued it with his magic, and for some reason it was outside the Mirror and its protections, in the labyrinth proper…>
Despite his frozen musculature, Harry's excitement was clear from his thoughts. <Exactly! One of Voldemort's last acts was to send the fiendfyre into the Mirror. That's how the Splinter must have taken him, and by extension, me, and that's why I'm here!> Harry's mind went on a tangent, imagining alternate possibilities. <Man, you two are so lucky it didn't take him a few hours earlier…>
Zorian absentmindedly raised a hand to scratch at his neck, and the snake slid out of his sleeve to coil itself under his shirt, placidly resting on his collarbone.
<If the Exile Splinter could only take Voldemort by following the trace connecting his fiendfyre spell to your ring, and therefore, to you, then how are we going to get back to your world… ah, his phylacteries.>
<That's what I was thinking too. You can see why I didn't want to share my thoughts without some degree of guarantee you wouldn't share them widely. If news got out on my planet about Voldemort's hundreds of phylacteries - we call them horcruxes there, though - well, you can see why that would be an issue.>
<You could have just asked> Zorian grumbled, although he internally agreed that he might have tried something similar if he was in Harry's position. Somewhat satisfied by both Harry's explanation, and the guarantees he'd given about meaning Zorian no harm, his simulacrum withdrew from Harry's mind. In the end, he hadn't delved too deep into the young wizard's memories. Whatever had happened in the last few minutes, Harry was a friend, and crushing a friend's mind to extract their innermost thoughts was not something Zorian did lightly.
Now released, Harry stretched his shoulders, and hissed in Parseltongue once again. "And all the thoughtsss I just mentally transferred to you are true, to the best of my knowledge."
Harry continued. "I'm really sssorry about your sssimulacra, by the way. There are almost no futures where I expect to ever do that again. I hope it didn't hurt."
Zorian grimaced, and the simulacrum next to Harry answered for him. "We don't feel pain in the usual sense, but I certainly didn't appreciate it."
Zorian turned to face Harry. "You do know what this means, though?"
Harry looked up with surprise, clearly picking up on the serious intonation in Zorian's voice. "Why, what does it mean?"
"It means," Zorian said, gently lifting the Scottish adder from where it was nestled up against his collarbone back into his sleeve, "that I need to carry around a snake everywhere now."
Harry looked up at the larger-than-life portrait with a lump in his mouth.
"Hello, Professor."
Professor McGonagall looked down at him, the skin near her eyes creasing with familiarity. "My dear boy, it has been a rather long time. I am very glad you've chosen to return, but we'd all hoped it would happen sooner."
Harry swallowed, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking. "But I haven't returned yet, have I? We're in some kind of hidden world, and unlike humans, you were copied across because you're not really sapient. Are you?"
The image of the Scottish witch looked sadly down at him. "I'm afraid not, Mr Potter. I have the memories I had when I was painted, but most memories formed since then fade faster, if they're formed at all. I remember enough of you to know that you would not call this," she gestured to herself, "a true Minerva, merely a shallow copy."
Hugh was looking at the moving portrait with wide eyes, and Harry remembered with a flash of embarrassment that Hugh couldn't speak English.
"This is an old friend of mine. Or at least, the image of one," Harry explained in Ithonian. Hugh nodded, and raised a hand in greeting to the painting. The shadow of Professor McGonagall smiled, and waved back.
Harry looked back to McGonagall and stood up a little straighter. "What year is it?"
The old witch looked bemused. "That's not the kind of thing we portraits are particularly good at remembering. I do remember the turn of the millennium though. That was quite a spectacle."
"Have there been any major magical or non-magical disasters in the last thirty years?"
McGonagall took off her glasses and wiped them clean with a cloth she pulled from a pocket. "After you, Dumbledore and Voldemort all vanished in the span of a week, there was a substantial power vacuum, as you might well imagine. Madam Bones, Ms Granger and Mr Malfoy managed to hold the country together, but it was no small thing. There was, of course, the Cleansing of Azkaban, and some would deem that a disaster, although I do not count myself among their number. You should ask Ms Granger about that when you see her, that was quite a piece of work. Nothing comes to mind since then."
His heart racing, Harry allowed himself a small smile at that. "What is the current population of Earth?"
The witch frowned. "Somewhere in the billions, I believe."
No massive surprises there. Better to cover all the major bases though.
"Is the Statute of Secrecy still in effect?"
The Professor nodded.
"Has a nuclear weapon been detonated in the last thirty years in a non-test environment?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Any contact with aliens? Not counting him," Harry said, gesturing at Hugh.
She shook her head.
"Have the Muggles - or the wizards, for that matter - made progress with nanotechnology? Or artificial intelligence?"
"Oh, I'm sure the Muggle scientists are up to something. Ms Granger does mention it from time to time. I think she has it under control."
That was an odd choice of words - definitely something to chase up later.
"Alright, that's the big ones. Any significant advances in the study of magic?"
"Nothing more impressive to me than -" she covered her mouth with her hand to prevent her words from reaching Hugh. "Partial transfiguration. Which is as-yet unreplicated, for that matter."
"From what you've said, Hermione is alive. Is that correct?"
She nodded.
"Which of the following people are alive: Draco, my parents, Alastor Moody, Severus Snape - although you might not know about that one, Madam Bones, Neville Longbottom."
"To my knowledge, all of those people are alive, although Alastor did lose his left hand while tracking down those responsible for the attempted Fiendfyre Plot."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Really, all of them? That's excellent news. How is Madam Bones managing? She was already quite old thirty years ago."
McGonagall grimaced. "I would hesitate to say that she is managing well, but she is alive. You can thank Ms Granger and her unicorn blood for that. Neither of them particularly enjoy the arrangement, but it's far better than leaving the Wizengamot without even a regent for the position of Chief Warlock.
"Wait, you mean -"
She nodded gravely. "After extensive testing, it has been determined that Ms Granger can regenerate around three litres of blood a day without impairing her function, which, when freely given, is approximately sufficient to keep a single person in a state of… well, not health and vigour, but it will keep them alive."
Harry looked down at the pockets of his robes, which at present contained both the Philosopher's Stone and the Elder Wand.
Dumbledore's last act, before he was sealed away by the Mirror, was to ensure that the world would be able to go on without him. He'd laid careful plans to pass on the Line of Merlin to its next bearer, and in the final instant as the Seal took hold, he'd thrown both the Line and the Wand to one side, so that the wizarding world would not be without these vital tools even as it lost its greatest wizard.
When the Exile Splinter had taken him from his world, there had been a split second in which he could act. Perhaps enough time to throw the Philosopher's Stone to one side, and leave it behind in his world. How many lives would have been saved by that single action that he'd failed to take?
This was no time to wallow.
"Professor, are there any other events of note that you know of that I've missed?"
She looked down at him sadly. "There is one."
The look in her painted eyes seemed to carry some meaning that it took Harry too long to understand.
"Professor," Harry asked, although it sounded like his voice was coming from far away. "Where is the real McGonagall?"
Some distant part of him heard the portrait's response, as another part of him noted, dispassionately, that it would be rather odd for the current Headmistress of Hogwarts to place a portrait of herself behind her desk, rather than keeping the image of her predecessor there for advice.
"I'm afraid she died shortly after this painting was completed. A wasting disease, I believe. Quite incurable."
It wasn't incurable, of course. Almost nothing was incurable when you had the Stone of Permanence. A simple temporary transformation was all that was required to create the desired bodily state, with Polyjuice potion, medical transfiguration, or otherwise, then make the changes permanent. Voila, a new body.
But they hadn't had the Stone. It had been (as per Harry's current guess) with him, stuck in whatever timeless void he'd been stored in until the Exile Splinter had successfully won the battle against the Mirror to pull him into Ithos. And so McGonagall was dead.
"Professor," Harry said, voice shaking. "Is there anything else you think I should know?"
"I think," she said, voice soft. "You should know that there are many people who care about you very much. They will be glad to see you again."
"Th- thank you Professor. I'm working on it."
He turned away from the painting, blinking away tears.
"Alright, Hugh," he said, switching back to Ithonian and trying to sound as controlled as possible. "Want to check out an alien library?"
Hugh shrugged with a bit of an odd expression. "I won't be able to read any of the books, will I?"
"Well, no, but there are probably some ward-diagrams that might make sense."
Hugh perked up. "That would be great, actually. I can sense some information-gathering wards here, and I think they're far beyond my current skill to create."
Harry turned back to the painting. "One last question, Professor. I know it's not strictly allowed, but if you remember it, could you tell me the password to the stairs?"
McGonagall's face creased into the mock image of a stern disciplinarian. "Mister Potter! That is thoroughly inappropriate. A portrait would be entirely outside of its remit if it told a student that the current password to the Headmaster's office was 'Flubberwump gargantuanto'."
Harry managed a weak grin, and something inside of him broke. There would be a time for grieving later. Now, he had problems to solve. "Thank you, Professor." And he was off.
Hugh Stormward
Harry led Hugh down a set of spiral stairs which seemed to autonomously rotate on their axis. Here on Harry's world - or a copy of it, as this seemed to be - magic was behaving very oddly. Now that his initial sickness was subsiding, he could feel the aether flow around him as it slowly refiled his mana reservoirs. It felt more sluggish here, but his crystals were still responding as usual.
The painting of the old woman seemed to act as some kind of memory-imprint, which was rare, but not unheard of on Anastis. It didn't appear to be at all rare here, as dozens of portraits cluttered the grey-stone walls. Many of the portraits' inhabitants appeared to be asleep, and some awoke as they passed, crying out to them in the odd guttural language that seemed to be native to Harry's world.
The staircases drifted and moved as Harry walked across them, which was certainly a little disquieting. Nevertheless, Harry moved quickly and confidently through the maze of corridors and staircases, and before long they found themselves in a relatively conventional-looking library. Harry directed Hugh toward the section on permanent wards before dashing off through the broad bookshelves, clearly looking for something specific.
The library here (in 'Hogwarts', apparently) was a pleasantly cosy place. The aesthetic was far removed from the small house they'd arrived in - far larger, and grander, for one. In contrast to the harsh stone and (in Hugh's experience thus far) constant danger of Skyhold, the cold granite of the floor here was covered by rich, soft carpets, and the library itself was interspersed with armchairs and couches. Hugh had asked, and Harry had confirmed that he didn't know of any circumstances in which an armchair had eaten a student in recent memory. He had also said that if you went high enough in the castle, students had been known to vanish for months at a time for unclear reasons. That made Hugh a little more relaxed around the armchairs, but he also resolved not to climb any stairs without Harry's guidance.
Idly leafing through a randomly chosen book in Harry's illegible language, Hugh mused on the differences between magical realms. His… home, he supposed, in Skyhold, had been carved out of stone by mages of great strength hundreds of years ago. In time, it had become a rabbit-warren of interconnected tunnels and hidden chambers. Hogwarts, it seemed, had converged on a similar complex internal structure. Except, here, mages were apparently unconstrained by affinity types, which resulted in an altogether more uniform space.
In Skyhold, it wasn't rare to stumble on an entire collection of rooms which had been carved out by Kanderon herself from crystal, or by a particularly ambitious wind-mage demonstrating their control, or by a heat-mage melting pockets out of the mountain's heart, or by some other esoteric process. As a consequence, the rooms varied greatly in their construction and style. Here, although there was some variation, it seemed there was a distinct tradition in Harry's wizarding culture - one of both comfort and style.
Three bookshelves over, Hugh's crystal affinity sense could feel Rain's aura anchors in Harry's necklace bobbing around as the young wizard kept searching for particular books. Not knowing the language, there wasn't much Hugh could do to help, so he took the opportunity to lean back into one of the richly upholstered armchairs that dotted the library.
Hugh hadn't slept since before Zorian's group had arrived in Skyhold, and could feel his eyelids drooping already. He took a quick moment to set up his crystal wardstones to form a protective cube around the armchair - better safe than sorry, after all - and almost immediately fell asleep.
It felt like he'd barely closed his eyes when he blearily opened them in response to a chiming noise. Unable to wake him the normal way because of his crystalline defences, it seemed Harry had resorted to summoning a small diamond, and was using his own affinity to bounce it off the side of the cube.
Harry didn't look scared or urgent, so Hugh took a moment to yawn, and rotated the hovering crystals back into his storage tattoo. With a sigh of relief, he noted that he could once again feel his bond with Mackerel - the unruly spellbook was far away, no doubt, but now at least it was in the same plane as he was.
"How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
Harry looked down at a small device on his arm - some kind of mechanical timekeeper, probably. It seemed to have a crystal face protecting the mechanical innards.
"Around three hours. I wanted to let you sleep, it's been a long day. Time to get up now, Zorian and the others arrived through the Mirror a few minutes ago. Here, I also picked up a few books specifically on warding for you to look at later, when you're more awake."
Hugh took the proffered books, and wiggled around in the armchair, not quite finding the strength of will to leave the cushy chair so soon. "Do you have any more of that medicine you gave me earlier?"
Harry reached out to give him a hand. "Yeah. Are you still feeling nauseous?"
Hugh grinned. "No, but I bet the others will be."
Harry snorted, an unexpected sound from such an accomplished mage. "I bet. There's plenty of beds in the common rooms, they can have some time to lie down if they want."
Harry led him back out of the library, back into the maze of staircases and hallways. This time, their journey was steep downwards, through spiralling pathways that didn't feel like they could quite fit together logically.
A crashing noise came from around the corner, and Harry switched into a slow jog. Following him, Hugh turned the corner, and saw a stone figure, almost the full width of the hallway, which had just punched through a door, taking a good chunk of the wall with him.
"... Artur?"
The figure turned to face them. The stone of the head melted down into the arms, revealing Artur's face. An expression of controlled fury was easily legible, despite the mounting nausea Hugh could see in Artur's face. Even though Artur's eyes were locked onto Harry, Hugh still took a hurried step back as the giant's arm crushed a nearby statue.
"Where is my son?"
Harry's response was calm. "If my understanding of the Mirror's functions is correct, he and Rain were likely transported to Rain's home. From his accent, I think that's likely to be in Canada or the United States, somewhere in North America. If you give me a minute, I can verify that."
Artur's expression cooled a little. "Please do."
Harry took a step back away from the rubble around Artur's stone form, and withdrew his wand from a pocket. He said some kind of strange incantation, and from behind a corner, Hugh saw a pure white light bathing the hallway.
"Find Godrick. Tell him that you're a messenger from Harry. Ask him: Is he safe? Where is he?"
In an instant, the light was whisked away, moving faster than the eye could follow, and Harry relaxed. "I've never tested the speed of a patronus before, so this will be interesting. Given that Rain can move pretty fast, and they've had around twenty minutes in this world, I wouldn't be surprised if they're on their way here already."
Taking a cue from Harry's attitude, Artur's stone armour began to melt back into the walls and floor, and a moment later, his body - still massive, but much smaller than his armour - stepped out.
"So, this is yeh home?"
Harry nodded. "One of them. It's my school - Skyhold is the closest comparison."
Artur pursed his lips and looked around. "Nice enough place, I suppose." He gestured at the cratered door from which he'd emerged. "Sorry about the wall."
Harry made a dismissive noise. "Don't worry about it, this is a spare reality anyway - but please don't do that when we get back to my actual world. Where's Zorian?"
As if on cue, Sabae and one of Zorian's simulacra stepped over the wreckage left by Artur, and into the hallway. This simulacrum looked identical to the original Zorian, and the only reason Hugh could tell the difference was because of the strange semi-crystalline structure of its metallic bones.
Sabae dashed over to embrace Hugh, and the simulacrum walked over to Harry. The pair of them shared a series of odd glances and took a few steps away from the group - they were probably communing via some kind of mind magic.
A burst of light around the corner signalled the return of Harry's patronus. At first, in an odd echoing facsimile of Harry's voice: "Godrick says:"
And then, Godrick's voice, accent and all:
"Ah'm alright! Ye gave me quite a shock though. So this glowin' thing is from Harry? I'm with Rain and Mackerel. We're on our way to 'England', Rain says. Somewhere above the 'Atlantic ocean'. Should be there in a few hours, he thinks."
By Hugh's side, Artur looked faint with relief, and he put an appreciative hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank ye."
Alustin and Talia picked their way through the rubble, and Hugh rushed over to his girlfriend's side. "Are you alright?"
She looked up at him, short red hair framing her freckled face, and sank into his arms, resting her head against his chest. "No, I feel terrible. We all do."
As if to punctuate her words, Artur turned and retched, for all the world looking like his body was ridding him of the anxiety it had been holding in.
"Right, of course, the aether sickness. Harry, the pills?"
Harry reached a hand into his bag, and pulled out a small container and a water bottle. Hugh handed them to Talia, who took one, then passed them on to Alustin. Alustin, Hugh noted, didn't actually take a pill - he surreptitiously palmed it into his storage tattoo when he thought no-one else was looking.
Hugh shrugged internally. If Alustin wanted to keep distrusting their comrades after everything they'd been through together, then that was his choice. His paranoia, his untreated nausea, Hugh figured.
Talia looked up at Hugh, her face part nauseous and part confused. "How come you're not getting aether sickness?"
Hugh choked out a laugh, and wrapped his arm around her slightly shivering shoulders. "I had my fair share of it already, thank you very much. I've just had five hours to get used to this world."
Talia looked confused, but Hugh just jerked his head toward Harry, who was still silently communing with Zorian. "Some sort of… time magic? From him. He seems to have a trick for every situation, it's pretty awesome."
Talia sniffled. "Why did you wind up with him, instead of here with us?"
Hugh hesitated. "I'm not sure. Why did you end up here?"
Talia sniffled again. "Well, I wasn't about to let him out of my sight," she said, gesturing to Zorian, whose real body was now stepping over the rubble to join them. "Not when he could seize control of everyone else's mind without me to stop him."
Hugh ran his fingers through her hair, and spoke a little more softly into her ear. "It's good you're here to look after us, but I don't think any of them mean us harm."
She groaned and rested more of her weight on him. The aether sickness was clearly beginning to properly set in - Harry's medicine would take the edge off eventually, but it had taken an hour to kick in for him. "You know, you could do with a little more paranoia. You should talk to Sabae's grandmother about that, I'm sure she'd set you straight."
The original Zorian turned to everyone, and clasped his hands together. He looked a little worse for wear, but nowhere near as bad as Hugh had felt. "Harry and I need to take a closer look at the Mirror. Please come with us - it's safer if we stay together."
Hugh reached out an arm to hold Sabae steady - she was shaking too, now, despite the medicine - and placed a series of crystals within reach for Artur and Alustin to lean on. Supporting four friends at once, he turned to walk back toward the Mirror.
Zorian
Without Rain here to refill his mana directly, Zorian was finally feeling the full consequences of being on an unfamiliar world.
It did not feel good.
The energies of his soul were twisting and churning, struggling to stay functional in the roiling mess of magic that was Harry's world as it absorbed and processed the ambient mana around him. As soon as he'd noticed the changes, he'd dedicated a simulacrum to resting and trying to calm his soul - the same as he'd done upon returning to his own world from inside the Sovereign Gate, when he'd… returned… to his original body. It was helping, but he could still feel the strain as he maintained his five simulacra and began to investigate the Mirror in earnest - carefully, this time.
From inside the Mirror's vast summoned world, the Mirror itself looked much the same. He still couldn't make head or tail of its overall construction, but in concept, it was gradually becoming clear that it had more in common with the Sovereign Gate than with the Exile Splinter. Rather than separating existing realities from one another, the Mirror seemed to create realities - a power which he'd only seen once before.
Harry's voice sounded in his mind, from where the boy was leaning on the wall, not far away. <My current hypothesis is that this reality is a transient one, created on our arrival to contain us, and I've seen a fair amount of evidence to support it. That would explain why the portraits report seeing people vanish around five hours ago - that's the longest gap in time that can be crossed with the Time Turner, so from the Mirror's perspective, there was no point creating this world earlier than that.>
Once again, despite the clear (apparent) lack of hostile intent, there was something off about Harry's mental communication. Zorian couldn't quite place it - at least not without breaking down Harry's defences entirely, which this, however unsettling, didn't quite warrant.
Zorian and his simulacra focused back on the Mirror. Now that he'd used the device to travel between realities, he could more keenly sense the internal connections between the planes. The Mirror served as a link between worlds, but it was apologetically refusing to allow him access to anything beyond the world in which they stood, or the labyrinth from which they'd entered.
<Harry, the Mirror is by far the best warded device I've ever seen, and yet the Exile Splinter managed to take you from your world. How?>
Harry had retrieved the small training cube Zorian had made for him from his bag, and was idly turning it over in his hands. <I was wondering the same thing. The Mirror clearly made this reality for us. We're unlikely to be the first visitors, so there's probably some other realities inside it. How could the Splinter take me from the true Earth, when that's probably the one that's most strongly protected?>
Zorian sensed the moment of realisation in Harry's mind before the younger boy clamped down on his emotions.
Zorian gave the boy an exasperated look. <Care to share what you just figured out? We're not going to make much progress if you keep hiding things from me.>
Harry grinned, and tossed the training cube into the air with one hand, before catching it. <I would like to tell you, actually. But there's something we need to do first.>
<Oh yeah?> Zorian asked, mentally rolling his eyes. <What's that?>
"First, we're going to find a snake," Harry said out loud. "And then we need to have a long conversation."
Harry
Harry's mind was working in overdrive trying to solve the puzzle of collaborating with Zorian.
Zorian was almost exactly the kind of person Harry wanted to have by his side - calm, systematic, and absurdly skilled. His skill set covered a huge number of areas, including many in which Harry was in dire need of assistance - like travelling between planes, for instance.
That being said, there was a major reason why Harry was holding off on telling Zorian his current cache of hypotheses about how to reach Earth. It was because by their very nature, they involved some of the secrets Harry most wanted to keep… well, secret. Releasing the true nature of Voldemort's current predicament into the wider world was a terrible risk, one which Harry was unwilling, and indeed in present circumstances unable, to take.
Since Rain and the others didn't seem like they'd be a huge amount of help with crafting whatever portal was required to return home, he would be happily able to proceed without telling them much at all about the true nature of the ring on his finger. But trying to keep Zorian in the dark while still making use of his expertise in inter-planar travel was a non-starter.
There were a few options available to Harry which might serve as a tool to ensure Zorian's honesty, cooperation and long-term discretion. The first which came to Harry's mind was an Unbreakable Vow. While he didn't know the spell himself, he did have access to the entirety of the Hogwarts library, and here there was no one stopping him from waltzing around the restricted section as he pleased. However, Zorian didn't seem like the type to agree to take an Unbreakable Vow to keep secret something which he hadn't been told yet, so that idea was probably a non-starter.
There was another tool which came to mind, though. One designed, as far as Harry knew, for exactly this kind of purpose - enabling honest collaboration between two wizards who might otherwise be forced to plot against one another. Salazar Slytherin's constructed language, in which Harry and Voldemort had exchanged their final honest words before their divergent value systems compelled them to pursue mutual annihilation.
Harry wasn't completely certain how Parseltongue actually worked, despite his earlier tests on everything from pythons to carrots. Quirrell had certainly believed that it was impossible to lie in the snake-tongue, and despite his simulated minds which could fool Veritaserum and legilimency, Harry hadn't managed to deceive the snake-tongue yet. So there was a good chance that Zorian would be compelled to speak the truth when speaking Parseltongue too.
Taking the form of a snake, via the Animagus process or otherwise, was insufficient to understand Parseltongue. As Quirrell had put it, that would have been a rather glaring hole in Salazar's design. The mechanism was, as Harry understood it, that a parselmouth willed the snake-form listener to understand their words, and that this in some way acted as a key. How exactly that worked, Harry wasn't sure - but given that Zorian could possess and control others, including animals, it seemed plausible that he would be able to take control of a snake, and through it, understand and respond to Harry's words.
There were a number of risks in this plan, but as best Harry could see, the benefits massively outweighed them. If Harry and Zorian could speak honestly to one another, then they'd finally be able to really work together to unravel the puzzle of the Mirror, and perhaps collaborate in the long term to their mutual benefit. It would be a bit of a gamble, but if it paid off, the rewards would be commensurate with the risks.
This line of reasoning led Harry to appreciate that the Mirror had replicated Earth's non-sapient life, and that Scotland had a single kind of native snake. Harry could only hope that the acromantula colony near Hogwarts hadn't eaten them all. So Zorian, two of his simulacra, and Harry set out to the Forbidden Forest to find a Scottish adder.
Zorian
They left most of the others behind in the Ravenclaw common room to lie down, along with a simulacrum - the one that was still entirely focused on calming the roiling energies of Zorian's soul. Two of the other simulacra had headed south, to try to make contact when Rain and Godrick got within range of the telepathic relays.
For an as-yet unclear reason, Harry and the original Zorian were combing a wide section of forest for snakes. A pair of simulacra were nearby, scanning the forest on either side. It took a surprisingly long time. Although the forests here were teeming with life, Zorian's mind-sense mostly found field-mice, insects and a variety of birds.
In the end, Harry tapped Zorian on the shoulder as the two of them floated past the tree-trunks on a disc of force. "About a hundred and twenty metres in that direction, behind a small tree. There's a long, slow-moving pattern of carbon. Is it a snake?"
Zorian moved their disc in that direction, and focused his mind in that area. Diving into the consciousness of the forest dwelling creature, he encouraged it to flicker out its tongue and taste the air.
<Yep, that's an adolescent snake, recently hatched, I think. Nice catch.>
It was impressive that Harry's affinity sense had this level of precision after only a week or so. Perhaps Zorian had been wrong to deem the affinities on Anastis an excessive risk…
Zorian mentally nudged the snake, and it dislodged itself from the rock on which it had been sunbathing, and began to move toward them. After a few seconds of disc-travel, it came into view - a small brown and white textured snake, perhaps half a metre long.
Although Zorian had seen himself from other eyes before, including snakes that he'd practised on while training to parse the Aranean memory-packages, it was still a little strange to see himself like this. From the snake's eyes, Zorian and Harry both looked enormous. He reached out and mentally calmed the snake as it felt unstructured magic take hold of its form, lifting it into the air, and into Zorian's outstretched hand. It nestled itself closer and coiled up, enjoying the warmth emitted from the bare skin.
Zorian lowered them to the ground and dismissed the disc. <What now?>
Harry stepped back, and opened his mouth.
"Hsssss ssss sshsshssss," said Harry.
"Hsssss ssss sshsshssss," heard Zorian through his human ears.
"Can you underssstand me?" heard the snake nestled into Zorian's sleeve.
And in that instant, Zorian felt something latch onto the surface of his soul. He instantly shed the snake-form, dropping it to the forest floor, but it wasn't enough. A parcel of energy had traced his mental connection with the snake, and was searing a new pattern into Zorian's soul - one which hadn't been there before.
Two simulacra teleported in, seized Harry with unstructured telekinesis, and teleported him into the sky.
It didn't help. The magic had taken hold. He might not have noticed it, if not for his experience infiltrating the Imperial Treasury with Zach and Quatatch-Ichl. Somehow, no matter where they fled with their loot, their pursuers had been able to track them down. In the end, with the old lich's help, Zorian had discovered a tiny, near-invisible marker on his soul, placed by a divine artefact in the Treasury's security system, which had led their pursuers to him. After that experience, he'd made sure to keep a close eye on his soul, and any modifications to it.
This felt… different. It wasn't just a marker. It was binding him, constraining him in some way that he as yet couldn't detect.
Zorian reached out into the shared consciousness of his simulacra, who held Harry in a vice-like magical grip, hundreds of metres in the sky above the forest. Wind whipped at their clothes, and Harry's wand and bag were already in the grip of one of the simulacra, seized with unstructured telekinesis the moment he had felt things going wrong.
<What have you done.>
Harry's head was the only part of him that could still move - the others were held fast by Zorian's magic. "It's not an attack! It's just a tool, so that you can talk to me and we can trust each other!" His voice was barely audible above the wind, but Zorian could have gleaned the meaning from his words regardless, given the mental pressure he was now exerting.
<You could have trusted me, instead of trying to cage my soul! That possibility is behind us, now.>
With that, Zorian attacked in earnest. Harry's mind shield was oddly constructed, and undeniably strong for someone his age. But Zorian had every advantage, in terms of skill, raw strength and numbers. The mental feelers of two of his simulacra skittered over the surface of Harry's mind, searching for weaknesses.
"Stop, Zorian, don't make me do this!"
Zorian and his simulacra were unanimous.
<You decided you couldn't trust us. Why would we trust you?>
Harry's mind shield began to crumble under the strain of being attacked by two minds at once, and Zorian began to see snippets of what Harry was trying to hide. A flash of a long white-bearded male face, a young witch with chestnut curls reading a book by his side, a high-pitched laugh and a sensation of despair, an odd focus on the emerald stone embedded into one of Harry's rings...
Why, Professor Quirrell, why?
But Zorian wasn't in complete control, not yet, and in a fraction of a second one of his simulacra was torn apart from the inside, as the reinforcing carbon nanotubes wound around its bones wrenched themselves free and sliced through its ectoplasmic flesh. Threads began to unwind inside the other simulacrum too, tearing apart its body, but it responded in time, and protected its head with a powerful shield. Although its torso was shredded, the incredibly thin nanotube threads could only buffet at the outside of the shield, and he was able to exert enough pressure to hold the ones in his skull in place by brute force.
Through the single intact head that still floated in the sky by Harry's side, Zorian and his copies redoubled their efforts. His other minds - the simulacrum by the mirror, and the two hovering above the English coast - joined in synchrony, and together they froze Harry's mind and magic, piece by piece, until Harry was silent, staring out through eyes he was unable to move.
<Now, Harry, please explain exactly what you've done.>
Harry's response was calmer, now that the power dynamics of their situation had become clear.
<I have secrets.>
Zorian, back on the forest floor, still scouring his soul for other unwanted changes, gritted his teeth. <That is abundantly clear, and will soon no longer be the case.>
<No, I mean I have really really important secrets. 'It might end the world if this gets out' kind of secrets. And I am literally incapable of sharing those secrets unless I'm sure of certain things. I was hoping we could work on some of those important things together. You seem like a good person, you know.>
Now that Zorian was in full control, he could tell that Harry was telling the truth. Harry really had forcibly constrained Zorian's soul in some kind of misguided attempt to simplify their collaboration and deepen their friendship. Even searching deeper, Zorian couldn't find a single hint of animosity from the young wizard - Harry seemed to regard Zorian as a dear friend, despite hardly knowing him.
<Why didn't you ask me first?>
<Because you would have said no. And there's no way the two of us can work together in the long term without some way to trust each other. Am I wrong?>
Back on the forest floor, Zorian was examining the fragmented marker that was now inlaid into his soul. It seemed not to constrain the use of his magic, nor allow him to be externally tracked, like the soul marker from the Imperial Treasury. But then again, hidden functions were par for the course when it came to this sort of thing.
<What is this soul marker supposed to do?>
<Ah, so it came through as a modification to your soul? I guess that explains your reaction.> Zorian felt Harry wince internally. <I really am sorry about that. It's supposed to act as a channel to let you understand Parseltongue. As a parselmouth myself, I can grant snakes the capacity to understand it. I'd speculated on how that might work, and I suppose we have our answer. Some kind of soul-magic. Unfortunate.>
<And why is that worth this - ah, you can't lie in Parseltongue. Or at least, you think you can't lie in Parseltongue.>
The simulacrum by Harry's side had let most of its fractured metal skeleton fall hundreds of metres to the forest below, and new limbs of ectoplasm were slowly growing outward from the still-intact head.
<Try it.>
<You mean, you want me to possess that snake again, allow it to talk to you? Do you think I'm an idiot?>
<You can see my thoughts, right? I'm almost certain that there will be no further effects on your soul.>
That was true - Harry's mind was quite sure that whatever soul effects had occurred thanks to this odd snake interaction, there would be no more.
Zorian sighed. Whatever recklessness had possessed Harry to try this course of action, it was crystal clear in Harry's mind that it had been in service of a greater, common goal. It would be foolish to throw that away, now that the risks had been taken - even if a better informed Zorian would have refused to even attempt this plan to begin with.
<Do NOT try anything like this again.>
Harry's response was desperately trying to come off as diplomatic rather than smug. <If this works, I won't have to.>
Zorian rolled his eyes, and the now re-formed ectoplasmic simulacrum teleported Harry back down to the ground - without relinquishing control over his muscles or magic.
Zorian's mind roved through the nearby forest, searching for the snake that had sparked this altercation. Surprisingly, it hadn't travelled far, and was nervously curled into a tree-root a metre or so from Zorian's right foot. Reaching back into its mind, it became clear that it had quite enjoyed the experience of nestling up to Zorian's hand, and of being part of a larger mind - but not the chaos that had come after.
Zorian let out a small sigh. At least someone here trusted him.
The little snake was lifted into the air by telekinetic threads, and tucked itself back into Zorian's sleeve. He turned to face Harry's paralysed form, which the simulacrum was holding steady with one hand.
<Snakes can't talk, Harry.>
<Just try it.>
Zorian instructed the snake to open its mouth, and hiss.
"I will be very annoyed if you do sssomething like that again."
Zorian frowned internally. What he'd tried to say was that he would kill Harry if he did something like that again. Apparently, that would have been a lie.
He could feel Harry's mental satisfaction. <See, there we have it. The beginning of a trusting relationship. Would you like to release my mouth so I can tell you some truths that have been a long time coming?>
Sensing no hint of hostility, Zorian relaxed his control over Harry's mouth - although he still kept Harry's magics tightly controlled.
Harry began to hiss. "I intend you no harm, and do not foressssee these intentions changing. I will take no further actions which modify your sssoul without your express consent, and intend to ensure your sssafety in the vast majority of the futuresss I can imagine."
Neither the simulacra nor the original's ears could discern any meaning, but the brown-and-white patterned snake now tucked into Zorian's sleeve heard each word. It was somehow using Zorian's soul-marker as a key, and understood both the words and the absolute truth that Harry believed them.
"Now for the important ones."
Harry continued hissing.
"If I tell you why I was taken from my world, can I trust you to keep it sssecret unless you believe that doing so would cause great harm, and that I would endorse the indiscretion? Know that I value the future of conscious life above all else."
Zorian stood for a moment, thinking. Then, from his sleeve, came a short hiss:
"Yesss."
"Can you also state that you mean me no harm, do not see this changing in nearly all possible futures unless you expect me to cause harm to you or yours, and will lend me your aid in my quest to ensure the safety of conscious life?"
Once again, Zorian stood quietly for a moment, before his snake-form agreed.
"Can you also state that you will keep all of my other secrets I tell you now, again, unless you believe I would endorse your indiscretion?"
Zorian agreed a third time.
Harry switched back to mental communication. <This ring is the temporarily transfigured and memory-wiped form of Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of my world. I must periodically sustain the transfiguration, or his form will return. In your terms, he is a lich, with a vast number of phylacteries, and is consequently immortal in the usual sense.>
Zorian leant back against a tree as Harry continued.
<Relatedly, I have some theories as to why the three of us were the ones taken by the Exile Splinter.>
Zorian tilted his head, looking oddly at Harry's immobilised form. <Go on.>
<Rain is obvious - he produces and processes vast amounts of mana, and from what he's said of his world, he appears to be specialised in that to an almost unheard of degree. If the Splinter had some fixed amount of strength it could exert, and wanted to seize the most mana-rich individual possible, Rain is a natural choice.>
<And me?>
<Well, you're a bit trickier, and I'm less certain about you. The best I've got is your network of simulacra. If the Splinter performed some kind of search, then it's far likelier to find you than it is to find anyone else, since there are so many of you running around. Besides, I've been meaning to ask - were any of your simulacra dungeon delving when you were taken?>
Zorian thought back to his meeting in Falkinrea, before he'd been taken. A pair of simulacra had been on a rather dangerous journey into the deeper dungeon, looking for deposits of crystallised mana now that he'd exhausted those on the surface level.
<... yes.>
<Right, that was probably a factor. Now, on to me. I was immediately confused when I realised how strong the two of you are. In a fair fight, either you or Rain would tear me apart in an instant, especially before the carbon affinity - which I couldn't have obtained without both of you helping me. In terms of raw magical power, the disparity is even greater. So why was I taken alongside the two of you?>
Harry didn't sound humble, the way someone else might have sounded saying the same things. Instead, he was simply stating what he perceived to be a fact.
<Besides, your world was unprotected, Zorian - there was nothing stopping the Splinter from taking you. Rain's world was protected, but those protections had been ruptured - by the Maelstrom, he tells us. So how was I taken, from inside the last great creation of Atlantis, which has been protecting its children from the harsh multiverse since time immemorial?>
<Get to the point, Harry.>
<Right, sorry. It was seeing the fiendfyre that helped me figure it out, in the end. I don't think the Splinter took me at all. I think it took Voldemort. I just happened to be wearing him on my finger.>
There was a pause before the puzzle clicked for Zorian, and he started to fill in the missing details:
<Right, that's why you think the fiendfyre could track you - it was trying to free its master, or something like that. And the Mirror couldn't protect Voldemort because he created the fiendfyre spell and imbued it with his magic, and for some reason it was outside the Mirror and its protections, in the labyrinth proper…>
Despite his frozen musculature, Harry's excitement was clear from his thoughts. <Exactly! One of Voldemort's last acts was to send the fiendfyre into the Mirror. That's how the Splinter must have taken him, and by extension, me, and that's why I'm here!> Harry's mind went on a tangent, imagining alternate possibilities. <Man, you two are so lucky it didn't take him a few hours earlier…>
Zorian absentmindedly raised a hand to scratch at his neck, and the snake slid out of his sleeve to coil itself under his shirt, placidly resting on his collarbone.
<If the Exile Splinter could only take Voldemort by following the trace connecting his fiendfyre spell to your ring, and therefore, to you, then how are we going to get back to your world… ah, his phylacteries.>
<That's what I was thinking too. You can see why I didn't want to share my thoughts without some degree of guarantee you wouldn't share them widely. If news got out on my planet about Voldemort's hundreds of phylacteries - we call them horcruxes there, though - well, you can see why that would be an issue.>
<You could have just asked> Zorian grumbled, although he internally agreed that he might have tried something similar if he was in Harry's position. Somewhat satisfied by both Harry's explanation, and the guarantees he'd given about meaning Zorian no harm, his simulacrum withdrew from Harry's mind. In the end, he hadn't delved too deep into the young wizard's memories. Whatever had happened in the last few minutes, Harry was a friend, and crushing a friend's mind to extract their innermost thoughts was not something Zorian did lightly.
Now released, Harry stretched his shoulders, and hissed in Parseltongue once again. "And all the thoughtsss I just mentally transferred to you are true, to the best of my knowledge."
Harry continued. "I'm really sssorry about your sssimulacra, by the way. There are almost no futures where I expect to ever do that again. I hope it didn't hurt."
Zorian grimaced, and the simulacrum next to Harry answered for him. "We don't feel pain in the usual sense, but I certainly didn't appreciate it."
Zorian turned to face Harry. "You do know what this means, though?"
Harry looked up with surprise, clearly picking up on the serious intonation in Zorian's voice. "Why, what does it mean?"
"It means," Zorian said, gently lifting the Scottish adder from where it was nestled up against his collarbone back into his sleeve, "that I need to carry around a snake everywhere now."
14 - Morning
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Rain
The steel supports resting on Rain's shoulders vibrated gently with the rhythm of his steps. Following their rough schematics, Godrick had done some impressive manufacturing. Steel moved like water under the young mage's hands. Despite the strange aether sickness that had started to set in partway through, Godrick had done beautiful work, with speed and skill that would have made Tallheart rumble in stoic approval.
With the help of a whiteboard he'd found in a nearby schoolyard, Rain had spent a few minutes explaining the general mechanics of airfoils. Godrick had looked on in rapt attention, and asked a number of questions that required some differential equations to answer - which Rain was embarrassed to admit that he'd never fully learned. Still, together they'd come up with a design, which - well, it wouldn't win any prizes. But it would, he hoped, get them to England.
The teenage steel-mage was resting now, curled up with Mackerel in the cramped rear of their improvised aircraft, behind where Rain was walking on air.
The vessel's design was absurd, and any Earth-engineer would have been totally perplexed by it. It most closely resembled a swept-wing fighter, with two notable differences.
First, it was composed entirely of steel, scavenged from Canadian street-signs and cars, and had no windshield, nor windows. From the inside, Rain, Godrick and Mackerel were nearly completely blind. Their only connections to the outside world were the GPS device Rain held in his left hand, the standard magnetic compass he held in his right, and his Detection aura - which currently showed a few hundred metres of empty air surrounding their craft in every direction.
The second difference which would have confused an Earth-engineer was that there were no obvious engines, nor propellers. For a longer journey, Rain would have wanted to build those in, but for a quick jaunt across the Atlantic, and without having to worry about Leviathans or Whales, human-generated lift was more than sufficient.
A series of quick experiments before they left had confirmed a few things Rain had already guessed. It turned out that Airwalk had no height limit here, the way it would have on Ameliah's homeworld. The remnants of the System that were probably governing his skill use here seemed to have given up on enforcing quite a few of the restrictions that were normally present - that was something to look into in more detail later.
And, crucially, Airwalk appeared to more or less entirely ignore Newton's Third Law (unless the reaction force was acting on magical particles, or something). The skill functioned by creating a small plane of force beneath his feet. Rain wasn't sure this was exactly how it would work back on the System's world, but here, it appeared that the planes of force were stationary relative to the air they were in.
As a result, they'd settled on a simple design. The craft (Rain was provisionally calling it 'The Inconceivable II - 2 Inconceivable 2 Furious') was the shape of a tiny fighter jet - less than five metres long. Apart from a series of strong steel struts connecting the walls to each other, it was entirely hollow - no engines, no controls. The thrust came from Rain's 'seat', which was an odd contraption. A thick steel ring was fitted around each of his arms, as close to the shoulder as possible, snugly moulded to fit with his armour. Each steel ring was attached via a lattice of struts to the frame of the aircraft. The idea was that he would slip his arms into the rings, and lift the weight of the entire craft with Airwalk. Since the skill ignored Newton's third law, seemingly pushing off some magically-created barrier, he didn't need to be in contact with the air outside in order to generate thrust. Instead, he could simply sit inside, run as if on a treadmill made of air, and the entire vessel would be propelled along with him.
The whole structure, including his passengers, amounted to a few tonnes of steel. To handle this, Rain had shifted a good portion of his stat-boost from the rings Tallheart had made for him into strength. This made raising the whole structure onto his shoulders only a minor strain. Once Godrick and Mackerel were on board, he'd started off slowly, lifting the whole thing vertically upwards to around five hundred metres above the city. Then, he'd started running forwards, and let it glide for a bit to test the wings. Godrick's work was rock solid, and although the wings flexed an alarming amount, they took the craft's weight. Satisfied, Rain had started running again, picking up speed as he went.
Without any real control surfaces, keeping the vessel pointing in the right direction was a bit of an effort. Since he was - by design - slightly ahead of the centre of mass of the vessel, that meant that if he began to exert force in a certain direction, the ship's own drag would pull it into the right orientation.
Rain had long since settled into a routine. Since Airwalk only cared about the velocity of the air inside the vessel, running at a steady pace inside would correspond to a gradually increasing velocity outside, until the air resistance came to equal the force he exerted by running. With the remainder of his stat-boosts in Clarity, he could comfortably pour mana into Energy Well to keep his stamina at acceptable levels.
According to the apparently-still-functional satellites and his battery-operated GPS device, this method was quite fast. Thanks to Velocity, they'd been cruising fairly comfortably for close to 20 minutes at around 800 km/h when something far faster passed directly through the walls of their craft, coming to a rapid stop in front of Godrick.
"I'm a messenger from Harry. Are you safe? Where are you?"
The voice was odd and hollow, and the light emitted from the entity was silvery and soft. Craning his neck, Rain caught a glimpse of what was undeniably Harry's patronus.
That was a relief. Rain could still sense his connection to the defensive aura anchors he'd given Harry, but it was reassuring to hear the boy's voice out loud, even if it was being spoken by an oddly spectral copy.
Godrick was a little more surprised, and jumped in alarm, almost hitting his head on a steel strut. Mackerel, for his part, was fluttering about at the first sign of activity in a while, and immediately passed through the patronus' arm. Rain wasn't great at sensing the odd little spellbook's emotions yet, but he got the feeling that Mackerel was somewhat disappointed that the spirit-form of the patronus couldn't be nibbled on.
"Ah'm alright!" Godrick rubbed his head where he'd narrowly missed the steel strut. "Ye gave me quite a shock though. So this glowin' thing is from Harry? I'm with Rain and Mackerel. We're on our way to 'England', Rain says. Somewhere above the 'Atlantic Ocean'. Should be there in a few hours, he thinks."
In an instant, the patronus-light disappeared, moving faster than a typical human eye could follow.
I'm lucky my Perception-boosting accolades still work here, otherwise I would barely have been able to see that thing move.
According to the GPS and Rain's memory of world maps, the tip of their vessel was pointed fairly exactly at the geographic centre of England. The patronus-spirit, presumably on its way to return to Harry, had departed through the left hand side of the floor of the nose of the Inconceivable II. Its path angling downward made sense - they were still over four thousand kilometres away from their destination, so taking a shortcut through the Earth's crust made sense - at least if you were an incorporeal spirit-messenger-thing.
The more interesting observation was that the patronus had moved slightly to the left, relative to their plane. If it was returning to Harry - and Rain couldn't think of any other competing possibilities - then that meant Harry was probably further north than England. Scotland, maybe? Or Scandinavia?
It made sense to take that information into account. Rain leant forward, braced himself against the force-platforms conjured by Airwalk, and began to run in an ever so slightly different direction.
The ship shuddered around him, the steel of the struts barely withstanding his at-present monstrous strength. As if liquid, new struts formed to reinforce the weak points near the wings - courtesy of the onboard mage-engineer. Settling into the new spirit-guided trajectory, the plane soon resumed its smooth glide.
Godrick, now awake, stretched his arms out as far as he could manage in the cramped space. There was barely room to lie down, let alone to stand. He flicked on the little flashlight Rain had found for him before they set off. Rain might not need much light to see, but that wasn't universal. "So how did you say your aura anchors work again?"
Rain scratched his chin. "So basically, they work at pretty much any range, and let me project my auras as if I were there. Apparently, they seem to work across labyrinth boundaries, as well as through the Mirror. That's pretty bizarre, honestly, since they don't even work across lair-boundaries on my world - not Earth, I've got to come up with a better name for it. Um, I'm going to call it… Ameliah's world, for now. The lair-boundary thing might be a deliberate System limitation? Not sure. Oh, and the System is what makes magic work on my world, by the way. Ameliah's world, I mean. That's going to take some getting used to"
Godrick nodded, clearly curious, and held up the Force Ward anchor Rain had given him. "And the magic yeh use to protect people, this is an anchor for that?"
Rain nodded. "Keep that really close to you, by the way. If this whole ship breaks apart - not that I don't trust your craftsmanship, it's been incredible so far - but just in case, it's very important that you're holding onto that so that I can make sure you're safe as we fall into the ocean."
Godrick tucked the tiny crystal back into the steel compartment he'd fashioned for it on his belt.
"It's really great having you around, yeh know. Me and my friends, we're always trying to keep each other safe, but some of them… they're a bit reckless."
Rain thought of Sabae diving through the air across the nose of one of the monstrous frog-trolls, and of Talia's grin eerily lit by her dreamfire as she sent it surging toward the phoenix, and couldn't bring himself to disagree.
"I mean, I love 'em, of course, and my father and Alustin are great protectors too, but I worry about my friends. With you around, it's a lot easier, knowing there's someone who can keep 'em safe in a way that I can't."
Rain shook his head. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Godrick. You're quick on your feet, you're resourceful, flexible, and strong. And most importantly, you're kind to people and look out for them. Your friends are lucky to have you around. And besides, whatever happens, you're my friend too, now. There's no way I'm going home without giving you a full set of ward anchors to keep on you."
The words were out of Rain's mouth before he had fully thought them through, but as he did, he realised they were true. Even though he did want to get back to Ameliah and Tallheart and the rest of Ascension, Godrick and his young friends had quickly wormed their way into his affections, and it wouldn't feel right leaving them without giving them as many protections as he could.
Godrick looked awe-struck by the offer, and didn't say anything. It gave Rain an opportunity to broach a topic he'd been meaning to bring up for a while.
"By the way, about Alustin… I think you might want to keep an eye on him."
Godrick creased his eyebrows. "What do ye mean?"
Rain tilted his head to one side noncommittally. "I don't want to be unfair. I mean, everyone has secrets."
Godrick looked increasingly alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"Alright, cards on the table, I was never any good at this 'veiled hint' business anyway. I think Alustin is a nice enough guy, and if I'd only spoken to him I wouldn't think twice about trusting him. But Zorian is a mind mage, and he's told us… some things, about the inside of Alustin's head that I think you should probably know."
Rain sighed. "Godrick, Alustin hates Havath. Unless something seriously changes about his mindset, he's not going to rest until the whole city is burnt to the ground. Every building rubble, every person dead. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to get there, including sacrificing people he cares about."
Godrick looked incredulous. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't…"
It was a long time before Godrick spoke again. "Is it possible Zorian is wrong, or lying?"
Rain looked around the cabin. The interior was dim, lit only by their little flashlight. The struts flexed slightly with each one of his steps, pushing the aircraft closer to their destination.
Rain's eyes eventually moved back to meet Godrick's again. "... Maybe. I hope so. But I doubt it. I'd trust Zorian with my life."
Godrick sighed. "I mean, I knew he had history with 'em, but this… Did Zorian tell you anythin' else?"
Rain thought back to the forested glade where they'd first interrogated the enigmatic paper mage. "Alustin does care about you. But he has a lot of secrets. I don't mean that you shouldn't care about him. He loves your father like a brother, and loves the four of you like his children. Just that… keep an eye on him, alright? I don't want you to be one more thing he leaves behind."
Godrick leant back onto the juddering steel fuselage. "Ahm sorry, I need some time to think about that."
They moved in silence for a while. Without the vast increases to his stats from Tallheart's rings and the constant flow of mana becoming stamina thanks to Energy Well, his legs would have been tired out and cramped beyond belief by now. As it was, he felt like he could do this forever.
A few minutes later, Godrick broke the silence. "So how come you're not feeling as rubbish as I am? Is it cause this is your world to begin with?"
Rain almost shrugged, before remembering his shoulders were currently controlling three tonnes of steel. "I've been wondering that myself. When we arrived on your world, on Anastis, I mean, I needed to make pretty substantial modifications to the intake scoops that supply my soul with essence. Now that we're here, I'd guess that your sickness is your soul responding to an unfamiliar type of essence, only automatically, instead of the manual way I do it."
Craning his neck back to check that Godrick was still listening, Rain saw him looking up with a kind of reverence reminiscent of Tarny or Vanna's early days, before Ascension.
"Yeh mean you can just… reach inside and modify your aetherbody directly?"
Rain made a bit of a face. "It took a lot of practice, but yeah, to some degree. Since my soul is pretty much entirely composed of essence from Ameliah's world, at least almost completely…?"
Rain trailed off. He'd assumed for a long time that everything beyond his physical form had either been created by the System on his arrival on Ameliah's world, or built by him since then. But Harry was originally from Earth, and he clearly had a soul too, along with whatever strange constructs the Atlanteans had woven around it. That meant there was a possibility that Rain himself had also had some kind of soul construct before he'd been taken from Earth…
"Underneath all that, I think there might be some kind of remnant of the 'original soul' from being born here. That might be why I'm still absorbing essence without any issues? I'm just guessing though, I'd need a bit more time to look into it more closely."
In the corner of Rain's eye, Godrick sat up slightly (as much as the fuselage would allow), stretched his limbs a little, and looked up at Rain.
"Who's Ameliah?"
Rain took a deep breath, and let it out again. "She's my best friend and partner, from back home. There are so many reasons I need to get back there, but she's the one I think about the most."
Before his time practising soul-reading with Sana, he probably wouldn't have noticed anything in Godrick's expression. Godrick's soul, however, was fairly easy to read, and the disappointment and mild embarrassment was clear as day.
Apparently, access to this additional information was insufficient to stop Rain from putting his foot in his mouth:
"I mean, you seem like a really lovely guy, and you're very attractive, of course, but yeah, I'm very happily taken. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm a bit old for you, not that I've asked your age, and that's not even accounting for the accelerated time I've spent in my soul. Besides, I'm sure there are heaps of other awesome guys around…"
I have GOT to get better at thinking before I start talking…
This time, to say that Godrick's soul flashed in 'mild embarrassment' would be the understatement of the century.
"I'm sure she's lovely," Godrick managed to squeak out before changing the subject. "How long til we get to England?"
Rain's cheeks flushed a little, but he was grateful for the alternate topic of conversation. "I've changed our heading slightly to go to Scotland, actually, based on where Harry's messenger came from. It's a country just to the north. We're at a steady pace of 800 kilometres an hour, so it should be around six hours before we arrive. You should try to get some more rest. It's been a while since you've had time to sleep."
Godrick nodded, and their journey subsided back into silence.
After half an hour, he turned back to see that Godrick was once again asleep. That was good. He needed his rest, and even though this was a lot less comfortable than a typical airliner, resting here was still better than nothing.
The GPS said they still had more than half the journey left. That meant he had time for a conversation. He felt for his aura anchors.
It took a minute for a response to come through - apparently it was the middle of the night back home, oops - but the return signal did come, in the form of the standard collection of rocks being shifted on one of his Detection boards he'd left with Ascension.
I'm here, Rain. Are you safe?
He felt a lump in his throat. She was ok. She was alright. He could stop worrying. For now.
I'm safe. We're in a strange empty world. It's either the one I was born in, or an almost exact copy. I got separated from most of the others I've been travelling with. I'm in a makeshift aircraft with Godrick and Mackerel - the living crystal spellbook I told you about.
There was a long pause as Ameliah received and decoded the message from the pulses of light he was sending through the Radiance anchor. This wasn't a particularly fast form of communication, but it was immeasurably better than not being able to talk to his loved ones at all.
Then Ameliah's response came through:
We're sitting tight without you, although Velika keeps pushing for attacking the Bank. We're lucky she's so scrambled, we might not be able to keep her in check otherwise. Dozer misses you, of course. He wants me to tell you to be safe, and to make sure you keep everything clean without him.
Rain smiled sadly. His soul-link with Dozer was still as strained as it had been on Anastis. He still felt like he might be able to summon the essence slime to him if he tried, but no other signals were making it through. It was as if he was used to communicating by wobbling one end of a jump-skipping rope in particular patterns, but he'd moved too far away, and now the skipping rope was far too taut, and he couldn't wobble it without ripping it out of the other person's hands.
Before leaving Anastis, they'd spent some time going through Kanderon's vast library. Although they'd barely made a dent, the books Rain had managed to memorise still numbered in the tens of thousands. Even with the accelerated time in his soul, he hadn't had a chance to read many of them in detail - only to go through and sort them into approximate categories based on their titles.
It appeared that they'd largely scanned a section of the library which was focused on Anastan magical basics. It made sense, since they'd started right near the entrance, but elementary affinity spellforms and cantrips were by far the most numerous kind of book now stored in his mind. Still, going based on titles alone, there were 5361 books that didn't fit into that broad category. Some of those were historical, going into detail on the brutal conflicts between the great powers of Anastis. Some of them Rain couldn't easily categorise - they were in an unrecognisable language, or had a title that was too vague.
A hundred or so of them, however, he'd identified as technical manuals. They set out the design of magical techniques that seemed like they would work on any world. Rain had skimmed over a few of them, and had soon found one that fit his criteria.
From here on another planet, there wasn't much he could do to physically protect Ascension, or to keep Ameliah safe, besides continuing to shelter them with his aura anchors. But that didn't mean there weren't other ways to help…
He began to flicker Radiance to transmit his thoughts back to Ameliah:
This is the schematic for some manoeuvres used by one of the most feared earth-mages on Anastis. They sound like they take a lot of energy, but with Tallheart's rings, I think you should be able to manage it, if you add Stone Swimming to your geomancer build.
Alright, here's the first one - it should be fairly basic. It's supposed to be used when diving through stone or earth like a liquid. Normally, as far as I understand it, geomancers move by using Rock Pull to shunt themselves toward a mass of rock, then relying on the buoyancy of stone to push them back up. The idea in this book is to build on that by forcing apart the rock in your direction of travel to create a cavity. The difference in pressure in front and behind you should add a ton to your speed, if you can manage it carefully - please be very careful. Plus, you'll be able to do it in any direction, since it doesn't depend on pulling yourself towards rock.
Get that? Cool, here's the second one. It's a bit trickier, but the book says it's really useful when the rock is wetter than usual…
With Godrick and Mackerel resting quietly behind him, Rain ran through the skies of Earth. While part of his mind directed the methodical movement of his legs beneath him, another part transmitted whatever lore he could to Ameliah, back home. Despite the three tonnes of steel resting on his shoulders, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.
Harry
Four figures had walked into the Forbidden Forest - Harry, Zorian, and two of his simulacra.
Three returned. Harry had torn one of the simulacra to shreds in a last-ditch attempt to keep Zorian out of his mind.
The first time Harry had met Alastor Moody, the grizzled old auror had decided to test his mind-shield. Harry had barely managed to resist the crushing weight and sudden fury of Moody's Legilimency.
He could still hear the warning Moody had given him afterward:
"Voldie isn't like any other Legilimens in recorded history. He doesn't need to look you in the eyes, and if your shields are that rusty he'd creep in so softly you'd never notice a thing."
In the end, the resonance between their magics meant that Voldemort had never tried to break into Harry's mind directly. Now, for the first time, Harry had some idea of what Moody might have meant. Zorian's probes had sliced their way through his Occlumency barriers like they weren't even there, paralysing his mind and body alike with ease. And then, while the wind whipped at Harry's frozen form, Zorian had looked through Harry's memories at his leisure.
It was only the Parseltongue truths Harry had extracted from Zorian afterward that prevented this day from being an utter failure. Despite the 'betrayal' Harry had offered him by failing to explain the possible drawbacks of Parseltongue, it didn't seem that Zorian bore him much ill will.
Now that Zorian had had a chance to look at Harry's deepest secrets, continuing collaboration was actually quite an endorsement. There were probably a lot of people that would try to kill him if they could see inside his head.
The trio exited the forest, and walked back onto the grassy lawn surrounding the Hogwarts castle. Simulacrum One (previously Simulacrum Two - he'd taken the number after Harry had lacerated his colleague) had taken custody of Zorian's little Scottish adder. The simulacrum was giving it gentle pats, and the snake looked quite satisfied with the attention.
Zorian himself looked to be in oddly good spirits.
"So, what now? I figure we should get some sleep?" Harry gestured at the sun, which was presently setting over the lake.
"I don't know," responded the simulacrum, "Zach here still seems pretty lively."
Zorian scoffed, and Harry could see that he was rolling his eyes.
"C'mon! He's such a Zach, isn't he? This brave little snake didn't even run away from the teleportations earlier. Did you, Zach?" This simulacrum ticked the underside of the snake's chin. Probably responding to some kind of mental nudge, the little snake - now 'Zach', apparently - shook its head.
"Sleep is a good idea," agreed Zorian. "My other simulacra are positioned along the coast, to the north and south. They should hopefully be able to make contact with Rain if he's off course, and guide him here."
Harry nodded, and pulled Zorian's training cube from one of his pockets. The little device was still frustrating him. The cantrips Hugh had shown him had a lot of promise, and Harry had hoped that the flexible use of magic through them might help him channel his mana at will. Still, he hadn't made any progress. The little metal cube stubbornly stayed a dull grey in his hands.
"How's that going, by the way?" Zorian asked.
Harry shook his head. "Still nothing."
"Ah well, maybe one day." Zorian didn't look all that disappointed.
This was the first time Harry had felt… well, safe, in a while. Although there was still the drive to find his way through the Mirror back to his world, at least this false Hogwarts didn't seem too dangerous, in contrast to Anastis, and in even starker contrast to the labyrinth.
They found the others where they had left them. Hugh had been with Harry for the extra five hours he'd experienced earlier today courtesy of the time turner, and had wisely used a few of them to get some rest. As a result, he was the one standing guard in the Ravenclaw dormitory tower. The fist-sized crystal octahedrons orbiting his shoulders looked out of place amidst the soft upholstery.
The beds here were made for people, not for mountains, so Artur had pulled two of them together, end-to-end. Combined, they comfortably fit his seven-foot-tall form. Talia and Sabae had found a bunk-bed by the window, and Alustin had rolled off his bed, onto the floor. He was still tangled in the sheets, and was snoring softly. Apart from Hugh, everyone was fast asleep.
"Zorian, can your simulacra stay awake while you sleep?"
"Yeah, although I should recreate some of them when I wake up, so they're fresh. When Rain comes back, I'll be able to make a lot more again too. For now, time for some rest."
Harry and Zorian tucked themselves into two spare beds. The mattress and bed sheets were a welcome change from the sleeping bag he'd used on Anastis, and the quieting charm on the bed frame helped keep Alustin's snores at bay.
Sleep came quickly.
Zorian
Zorian felt a weight fall onto his stomach.
"Morning, morning, MORNING!"
He sat bolt upright.
Talia rolled off his bed and strolled over to the traitor simulacrum that had clearly put her up to this. The pair of them shared a laugh, and Zorian let out a long-suffering sigh.
"You taught her Ikosian?"
The simulacrum shrugged. "One word of it, yeah. Next time don't make us stay awake for thirty hours in a row."
Zorian grimaced. Despite all their advancement in mind-melding, his simulacra still had a streak that they called 'dryly comedic' and that he called 'very annoying'. If anything, without the threat of the impending collapse of the time loop, it had gotten even worse. Their collective desire to get back home kept them from being too obnoxious… but only just.
Most of the others were already awake, but in fairness, they'd gone to sleep a while earlier too. The morning sun was peeking through cracks in the thick curtains, which must have been drawn closed to let him sleep.
As a first priority, Zorian reviewed the memory packets from his simulacra. One of them, to the north, had nothing to report, but the one to the south had made contact with Rain and Godrick around half an hour ago. At their… significant speeds, that meant they would be here any time now.
Zorian pulled his legs out of the sheets and stretched. He finished stretching just in time for Harry to re-enter the room and toss him an apple. The young wizard leant against the door-frame and took a bite of his own apple.
"You know, I never thought I'd get the opinion of reality itself on whether or not apples are sapient, but I'm glad to have it. Unlike humans and other sapient species, all food seems to have been replicated in this world. The kitchens and larders downstairs appear to be fully stocked. I will say, at this point I'm of half a mind to head over to the Edinburgh zoo and see if orangutans got copied in, and if so, where the Mirror draws the line."
The apple was crisp and delicious, a great refinement on the mealy, sour version common to his world, and as he ate it, Zorian realised how hungry he was. "Alright, let's be outside on the grass for Rain's arrival. They should be here any minute now. Then it's breakfast-time."
Leaving the whole room in quite a mess, their group traipsed down the stairs, following Harry through the winding stairwells and hallways, and eventually piled out onto the sunny lawn.
Zorian wasn't really sure what to expect from Rain's arrival. His simulacrum above the coast hadn't seen Rain at all - just made contact via the telepathic relay, so he didn't really know how Rain was travelling. Back in Kanderon's library on Anastis, he'd seen Rain move quite fast - fast enough to get across oceans? Maybe. But that approach wouldn't work particularly well with passengers, and there was no way Godrick or Mackerel would be able to keep up on their own.
A strange contraption came into view, maybe three hundred metres above the treetops, coasting on the air in an almost bird-like way. It reminded him of the airship he and Zach had stolen to get to Blantyrre - the Pearl of Aranhal - except much, much smaller, with two stubby fixed wings attached to a thin cylinder of metal. As he watched from the lawn, the wings began to reshape themselves. That was probably Godrick's work, if he was inside that thing. The rear sections of the wings splayed out, making the vessel far less aerodynamic, and it shed speed quickly.
As they watched, it came to a steady stop above the castle, gradually tilting until it looked as if it were suspended by the nose from an invisible string.
Rain was close enough now that Zorian could message him directly. <Hullo. What's holding that thing up?>
<Zorian!> It was easy to sense the relief in Rain's opening message. Zorian had to admit he felt the same way, because seconds later, Rain's Essence Well reached him. Vast quantities of mana washed over him, sweeping away the latent headaches and nausea from this new world.
<Uh, I'm holding this up. As in, with my shoulders. There's no-one under us, is there?>
With… his shoulders?
<No, you're clear to descend.>
With that confirmation, the strange vessel slowly descended, moving at what looked like a brisk walking pace. Before long, it reached the ground, and the nose of the vessel dropped down to the grass.
There didn't appear to be a door, or any way in or out, but that didn't deter Artur. He strode across the grass like a man possessed, and gestured with a hand. In response, a huge chunk of the steel wall of the vessel was ripped away and sent bouncing along the lawn.
A dizzy-looking Godrick stumbled out, and was instantly wrapped in a bear-hug from his father. Some whispered words were exchanged, but Zorian couldn't hear them, and he wasn't about to use his mind-magic to intrude on a private moment like that.
Then came Mackerel, who fluttered through on wings of crystal. He dashed over to Hugh, and flew in a few tight circles around his chest before moving on to greet Sabae and Talia. Zorian got the feeling that if the book could have purred, it would have.
A moment later, Rain stepped out of the hole Artur had torn. He looked a lot less tired than Zorian expected, for someone who had just lifted a few tonnes of metal across an ocean.
As soon as he set foot on the grass though, it was clear there was something wrong. There was a strange twitch in Rain's eye movements, as if he found it painful to look up.
Hugh ran over to him, and had a reassuring hand on his shoulders when Zorian got there.
"It feels like… there's something…" Rain shook his head, blinked twice, then squared his jaw and stared straight ahead.
"What is it?"
Rain gestured forwards, in the general direction of the Hogwarts castle. "Something's weird. All I see is a big field and a hill, and the feedback from Detection is all scrambled somehow. Am I missing something here?"
Zorian turned slowly. "... Harry?"
The young wizard looked as if he'd just been told he'd accidentally killed someone's pet. "Um, sorry. I forgot you'd probably be a muggle. There's some kind of attention ward across this whole place - on most magical locations, actually - that stops muggles from seeing it or trespassing."
Rain moved his head from side to side without moving his eyes, as if he was forcing himself to take in the sights in front of him. He was muttering to himself. "It's on my soul. How… why…?"
Talia elbowed Harry in the ribs. "What's a muggle? Is that some kind of slur?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. Uh, I mean, actually maybe? It means someone from my world who's not a witch or a wizard. My adoptive parents are muggles. My society doesn't tend to treat them very well." That garnered a few odd looks. "Which, to be clear, is terrible, and on my list of things to reform."
Zorian opted to send his next question to Harry on a more private channel. <Harry, did you do something to Rain's soul?>
"No!" <I mean, no! I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't even know HOW to do that. I can say that in parseltongue if you want.>
<That's not the whole story, is it?> It was clear once again that Harry was keeping something back. Now that Zorian had seen Harry's mind from the inside as well as the outside, it was much easier to tell when the boy was trying to avoid telling the whole truth.
<Look, this is going to sound bad. I think almost everyone on my home planet - everyone except witches and wizards - had their souls shackled somehow by Atlantis, to the point where they can barely even look at magic. At least, that makes sense based on what I read in Galvachren's Guide.>
Zorian looked at Rain. The man's face was calm, and his eyes were shut.
Ten suspenseful seconds later, Rain opened his eyes. This time, there was a steely-looking glint to them, and he walked over to where Harry was standing.
"I've just identified a part of my paling which was interfering with my sensory input, and had to rebuild it from scratch. Harry, did you know this was going to happen?"
"I may have had a suspicion."
"Next time, you tell me your suspicions, alright?" Rain's hand was on Harry's shoulder. Somehow, he managed to make it seem reassuring rather than threatening. "As long as we're here together, we're a team. There's no way we're going to get through this if we have to watch our own backs."
Harry nodded. "I'll tell you next time."
Zorian was caught with a strange impulse. "Why don't you say that in Parseltongue, Harry?"
The others looked perplexed, but Harry sighed and looked up at Zorian. "Alright."
Then he hissed:
"The next time I know about special features of Rain's soul that he is not aware of, I will tell him as soon as I safely can. I extend this promise to all others present here."
The others looked doubly perplexed by the apparently sudden decision for Harry to start speaking in Snake, and then triply by Zorian's apparent comprehension.
Through the snake sitting in his sleeve, Zorian confirmed the truth of Harry's statement. "Alright! Breakfast time! Where are those larders you mentioned, Harry?"
A brief explanation later, Harry led them back into the castle, and down into a labyrinthine network of tunnels. Following Harry, they ducked into a side tunnel, and the ceiling height abruptly decreased, as did the quality of the decor. Sabae must have noticed the same thing:
"Harry, does your world have servants?"
The young boy was leading the group, and looked back with a vaguely guilty expression. "Um, not exactly. I left my world thirty years ago, and maybe things have changed since then. But when I did, uh, it was a bit more like… consensual slavery?"
There were several strong expressions of disbelief from the Anastans, and Zorian himself was a little confused. From his brief time digging through Harry's mind, it seemed like the boy spent a lot of time thinking about high-minded principles. If they were somehow compatible with slavery, that was quite a mark against them.
"Which I do NOT approve of!" Harry protested. "I'm strongly against the arrangement. I just haven't got around to fixing it yet, if there even IS a way of fixing it that isn't MORE eugenics. Besides, it's not as if it's a worse situation than there is on Anastis." he gestured to Artur and Sabae, who were walking just behind him. "I've read - well, skimmed some of your history books. Cities get destroyed on your world alarmingly frequently, and that hasn't happened on Earth for at least… eighty years."
Zorian pursed his lips. "That's an oddly specific timeframe."
Harry winced again. "I didn't say we've got everything worked out. There's plenty to fix, alright? But Earth does have a few things going for it. Relative stability, high life expectancy, medical technology - remember those anti-nausea pills I gave you earlier?"
That did provoke a few nods of agreement.
Rain chimed in. "Plus there's the internet, of course. Video games. Comic books. Uh, fiction publishing in general, I think we've got a lot more of that than most other worlds. But the main thing is people die a lot less than anywhere else we've been, hands down. Clean running water, even if you don't have access to Purify! Can't go past that. Electricity too. Then there's…"
Harry interrupted him by opening a side door into a long, well-stocked larder. Cheese wheels were stacked in racks along one side, and rows of salamis and pickled onions dangled from the ceiling.
After a few minutes, they managed to empty a good part of the larder. It seemed Alustin wasn't the only one of Kanderon's people with some kind of dimensionalism-related abilities, because Zorian saw Talia push an entire cheese wheel into her mouth in a way that definitely was not physically possible. Zorian also stashed quite a bit of food into an expanded space in his robes. The last two weeks had given him a healthy appreciation of Harry's habit of carrying around a 'Useful Items' bag, and there was no time like the present to make a start. For now, it was just two cheese wheels, three whole pies, and a long string of dried fruit. He'd find time to add some non-food items later. That said, he didn't want to go overboard. Having one of his pocket dimensions fail and ending up the victim of a pie explosion would be embarrassing.
Artur was delighted to find a magically fuelled cooking range in the adjacent kitchen. The ceiling heights meant it was easier to sit at the stove than stand - these spaces had clearly been designed with much shorter people in mind. After Harry showed him how to activate the stove, it wasn't long before he was passing out warm pies and hot soup. The change in Artur's demeanour now that his son was back was very visible. It was nice to see a parent care so much for their child.
Zorian noted with some confusion that only Alustin and Talia were still wearing their dreamfire headbands.
After looking around for liquids, Zorian found some cups and a barrel of a delicious savoury red juice, and distributed it to everyone. All in all, it more than made up for a few days of mealsquares.
Zorian took the chance to dismiss a few of his long-suffering simulacra, and re-create fresh ones. He had access to Rain's nearly limitless mana again, plus it was a good time for it. He'd just woken up from the first long rest he'd had in a while, and he'd just had a good meal. While physical nourishment meant nothing to simulacra, the psychological benefits of a rest and a full stomach were not to be understated.
After that, he pulled Harry aside - the conversation with Sabae about 'house elves' could wait.
<We need to start work on the Mirror. I understand you want to keep the true nature of the stone on your hand a secret from the others?>
Harry kept the expression on his face neutral as he sipped what he called 'tomato' juice. <Yes. Even if the others are going to contribute to the process of reaching my world, which is doubtful, I don't expect them to need to know about the horcruxes to do so.>
<Alright, we can work with that. To start with, I want to examine your ring directly.>
That drew a reaction - Harry choked on his tomato juice. Some of it ran down the front of his robes.
"Scourgify."
The traces of tomato juice vanished.
<You can be right next to me the whole time, but I've got to have a close look at some point. I can tell there's a soul in there, now that you've already told me, but it's coiled so tightly that it's barely visible. If we want to trace the connections to its phylacteries in order to identify your homeworld, then I'll need to figure out how your 'horcruxes' differ from phylacteries on my world - not that I'm a specialist in phylacteries, mind you.>
Harry grudgingly nodded.
"We're going to go start work." Zorian waved a brief goodbye to the others. He and Harry left a lively breakfast behind them, and went to join the three simulacra that were already working on the Mirror.
The steel supports resting on Rain's shoulders vibrated gently with the rhythm of his steps. Following their rough schematics, Godrick had done some impressive manufacturing. Steel moved like water under the young mage's hands. Despite the strange aether sickness that had started to set in partway through, Godrick had done beautiful work, with speed and skill that would have made Tallheart rumble in stoic approval.
With the help of a whiteboard he'd found in a nearby schoolyard, Rain had spent a few minutes explaining the general mechanics of airfoils. Godrick had looked on in rapt attention, and asked a number of questions that required some differential equations to answer - which Rain was embarrassed to admit that he'd never fully learned. Still, together they'd come up with a design, which - well, it wouldn't win any prizes. But it would, he hoped, get them to England.
The teenage steel-mage was resting now, curled up with Mackerel in the cramped rear of their improvised aircraft, behind where Rain was walking on air.
The vessel's design was absurd, and any Earth-engineer would have been totally perplexed by it. It most closely resembled a swept-wing fighter, with two notable differences.
First, it was composed entirely of steel, scavenged from Canadian street-signs and cars, and had no windshield, nor windows. From the inside, Rain, Godrick and Mackerel were nearly completely blind. Their only connections to the outside world were the GPS device Rain held in his left hand, the standard magnetic compass he held in his right, and his Detection aura - which currently showed a few hundred metres of empty air surrounding their craft in every direction.
The second difference which would have confused an Earth-engineer was that there were no obvious engines, nor propellers. For a longer journey, Rain would have wanted to build those in, but for a quick jaunt across the Atlantic, and without having to worry about Leviathans or Whales, human-generated lift was more than sufficient.
A series of quick experiments before they left had confirmed a few things Rain had already guessed. It turned out that Airwalk had no height limit here, the way it would have on Ameliah's homeworld. The remnants of the System that were probably governing his skill use here seemed to have given up on enforcing quite a few of the restrictions that were normally present - that was something to look into in more detail later.
And, crucially, Airwalk appeared to more or less entirely ignore Newton's Third Law (unless the reaction force was acting on magical particles, or something). The skill functioned by creating a small plane of force beneath his feet. Rain wasn't sure this was exactly how it would work back on the System's world, but here, it appeared that the planes of force were stationary relative to the air they were in.
As a result, they'd settled on a simple design. The craft (Rain was provisionally calling it 'The Inconceivable II - 2 Inconceivable 2 Furious') was the shape of a tiny fighter jet - less than five metres long. Apart from a series of strong steel struts connecting the walls to each other, it was entirely hollow - no engines, no controls. The thrust came from Rain's 'seat', which was an odd contraption. A thick steel ring was fitted around each of his arms, as close to the shoulder as possible, snugly moulded to fit with his armour. Each steel ring was attached via a lattice of struts to the frame of the aircraft. The idea was that he would slip his arms into the rings, and lift the weight of the entire craft with Airwalk. Since the skill ignored Newton's third law, seemingly pushing off some magically-created barrier, he didn't need to be in contact with the air outside in order to generate thrust. Instead, he could simply sit inside, run as if on a treadmill made of air, and the entire vessel would be propelled along with him.
The whole structure, including his passengers, amounted to a few tonnes of steel. To handle this, Rain had shifted a good portion of his stat-boost from the rings Tallheart had made for him into strength. This made raising the whole structure onto his shoulders only a minor strain. Once Godrick and Mackerel were on board, he'd started off slowly, lifting the whole thing vertically upwards to around five hundred metres above the city. Then, he'd started running forwards, and let it glide for a bit to test the wings. Godrick's work was rock solid, and although the wings flexed an alarming amount, they took the craft's weight. Satisfied, Rain had started running again, picking up speed as he went.
Without any real control surfaces, keeping the vessel pointing in the right direction was a bit of an effort. Since he was - by design - slightly ahead of the centre of mass of the vessel, that meant that if he began to exert force in a certain direction, the ship's own drag would pull it into the right orientation.
Rain had long since settled into a routine. Since Airwalk only cared about the velocity of the air inside the vessel, running at a steady pace inside would correspond to a gradually increasing velocity outside, until the air resistance came to equal the force he exerted by running. With the remainder of his stat-boosts in Clarity, he could comfortably pour mana into Energy Well to keep his stamina at acceptable levels.
According to the apparently-still-functional satellites and his battery-operated GPS device, this method was quite fast. Thanks to Velocity, they'd been cruising fairly comfortably for close to 20 minutes at around 800 km/h when something far faster passed directly through the walls of their craft, coming to a rapid stop in front of Godrick.
"I'm a messenger from Harry. Are you safe? Where are you?"
The voice was odd and hollow, and the light emitted from the entity was silvery and soft. Craning his neck, Rain caught a glimpse of what was undeniably Harry's patronus.
That was a relief. Rain could still sense his connection to the defensive aura anchors he'd given Harry, but it was reassuring to hear the boy's voice out loud, even if it was being spoken by an oddly spectral copy.
Godrick was a little more surprised, and jumped in alarm, almost hitting his head on a steel strut. Mackerel, for his part, was fluttering about at the first sign of activity in a while, and immediately passed through the patronus' arm. Rain wasn't great at sensing the odd little spellbook's emotions yet, but he got the feeling that Mackerel was somewhat disappointed that the spirit-form of the patronus couldn't be nibbled on.
"Ah'm alright!" Godrick rubbed his head where he'd narrowly missed the steel strut. "Ye gave me quite a shock though. So this glowin' thing is from Harry? I'm with Rain and Mackerel. We're on our way to 'England', Rain says. Somewhere above the 'Atlantic Ocean'. Should be there in a few hours, he thinks."
In an instant, the patronus-light disappeared, moving faster than a typical human eye could follow.
I'm lucky my Perception-boosting accolades still work here, otherwise I would barely have been able to see that thing move.
According to the GPS and Rain's memory of world maps, the tip of their vessel was pointed fairly exactly at the geographic centre of England. The patronus-spirit, presumably on its way to return to Harry, had departed through the left hand side of the floor of the nose of the Inconceivable II. Its path angling downward made sense - they were still over four thousand kilometres away from their destination, so taking a shortcut through the Earth's crust made sense - at least if you were an incorporeal spirit-messenger-thing.
The more interesting observation was that the patronus had moved slightly to the left, relative to their plane. If it was returning to Harry - and Rain couldn't think of any other competing possibilities - then that meant Harry was probably further north than England. Scotland, maybe? Or Scandinavia?
It made sense to take that information into account. Rain leant forward, braced himself against the force-platforms conjured by Airwalk, and began to run in an ever so slightly different direction.
The ship shuddered around him, the steel of the struts barely withstanding his at-present monstrous strength. As if liquid, new struts formed to reinforce the weak points near the wings - courtesy of the onboard mage-engineer. Settling into the new spirit-guided trajectory, the plane soon resumed its smooth glide.
Godrick, now awake, stretched his arms out as far as he could manage in the cramped space. There was barely room to lie down, let alone to stand. He flicked on the little flashlight Rain had found for him before they set off. Rain might not need much light to see, but that wasn't universal. "So how did you say your aura anchors work again?"
Rain scratched his chin. "So basically, they work at pretty much any range, and let me project my auras as if I were there. Apparently, they seem to work across labyrinth boundaries, as well as through the Mirror. That's pretty bizarre, honestly, since they don't even work across lair-boundaries on my world - not Earth, I've got to come up with a better name for it. Um, I'm going to call it… Ameliah's world, for now. The lair-boundary thing might be a deliberate System limitation? Not sure. Oh, and the System is what makes magic work on my world, by the way. Ameliah's world, I mean. That's going to take some getting used to"
Godrick nodded, clearly curious, and held up the Force Ward anchor Rain had given him. "And the magic yeh use to protect people, this is an anchor for that?"
Rain nodded. "Keep that really close to you, by the way. If this whole ship breaks apart - not that I don't trust your craftsmanship, it's been incredible so far - but just in case, it's very important that you're holding onto that so that I can make sure you're safe as we fall into the ocean."
Godrick tucked the tiny crystal back into the steel compartment he'd fashioned for it on his belt.
"It's really great having you around, yeh know. Me and my friends, we're always trying to keep each other safe, but some of them… they're a bit reckless."
Rain thought of Sabae diving through the air across the nose of one of the monstrous frog-trolls, and of Talia's grin eerily lit by her dreamfire as she sent it surging toward the phoenix, and couldn't bring himself to disagree.
"I mean, I love 'em, of course, and my father and Alustin are great protectors too, but I worry about my friends. With you around, it's a lot easier, knowing there's someone who can keep 'em safe in a way that I can't."
Rain shook his head. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Godrick. You're quick on your feet, you're resourceful, flexible, and strong. And most importantly, you're kind to people and look out for them. Your friends are lucky to have you around. And besides, whatever happens, you're my friend too, now. There's no way I'm going home without giving you a full set of ward anchors to keep on you."
The words were out of Rain's mouth before he had fully thought them through, but as he did, he realised they were true. Even though he did want to get back to Ameliah and Tallheart and the rest of Ascension, Godrick and his young friends had quickly wormed their way into his affections, and it wouldn't feel right leaving them without giving them as many protections as he could.
Godrick looked awe-struck by the offer, and didn't say anything. It gave Rain an opportunity to broach a topic he'd been meaning to bring up for a while.
"By the way, about Alustin… I think you might want to keep an eye on him."
Godrick creased his eyebrows. "What do ye mean?"
Rain tilted his head to one side noncommittally. "I don't want to be unfair. I mean, everyone has secrets."
Godrick looked increasingly alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"Alright, cards on the table, I was never any good at this 'veiled hint' business anyway. I think Alustin is a nice enough guy, and if I'd only spoken to him I wouldn't think twice about trusting him. But Zorian is a mind mage, and he's told us… some things, about the inside of Alustin's head that I think you should probably know."
Rain sighed. "Godrick, Alustin hates Havath. Unless something seriously changes about his mindset, he's not going to rest until the whole city is burnt to the ground. Every building rubble, every person dead. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to get there, including sacrificing people he cares about."
Godrick looked incredulous. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't…"
It was a long time before Godrick spoke again. "Is it possible Zorian is wrong, or lying?"
Rain looked around the cabin. The interior was dim, lit only by their little flashlight. The struts flexed slightly with each one of his steps, pushing the aircraft closer to their destination.
Rain's eyes eventually moved back to meet Godrick's again. "... Maybe. I hope so. But I doubt it. I'd trust Zorian with my life."
Godrick sighed. "I mean, I knew he had history with 'em, but this… Did Zorian tell you anythin' else?"
Rain thought back to the forested glade where they'd first interrogated the enigmatic paper mage. "Alustin does care about you. But he has a lot of secrets. I don't mean that you shouldn't care about him. He loves your father like a brother, and loves the four of you like his children. Just that… keep an eye on him, alright? I don't want you to be one more thing he leaves behind."
Godrick leant back onto the juddering steel fuselage. "Ahm sorry, I need some time to think about that."
They moved in silence for a while. Without the vast increases to his stats from Tallheart's rings and the constant flow of mana becoming stamina thanks to Energy Well, his legs would have been tired out and cramped beyond belief by now. As it was, he felt like he could do this forever.
A few minutes later, Godrick broke the silence. "So how come you're not feeling as rubbish as I am? Is it cause this is your world to begin with?"
Rain almost shrugged, before remembering his shoulders were currently controlling three tonnes of steel. "I've been wondering that myself. When we arrived on your world, on Anastis, I mean, I needed to make pretty substantial modifications to the intake scoops that supply my soul with essence. Now that we're here, I'd guess that your sickness is your soul responding to an unfamiliar type of essence, only automatically, instead of the manual way I do it."
Craning his neck back to check that Godrick was still listening, Rain saw him looking up with a kind of reverence reminiscent of Tarny or Vanna's early days, before Ascension.
"Yeh mean you can just… reach inside and modify your aetherbody directly?"
Rain made a bit of a face. "It took a lot of practice, but yeah, to some degree. Since my soul is pretty much entirely composed of essence from Ameliah's world, at least almost completely…?"
Rain trailed off. He'd assumed for a long time that everything beyond his physical form had either been created by the System on his arrival on Ameliah's world, or built by him since then. But Harry was originally from Earth, and he clearly had a soul too, along with whatever strange constructs the Atlanteans had woven around it. That meant there was a possibility that Rain himself had also had some kind of soul construct before he'd been taken from Earth…
"Underneath all that, I think there might be some kind of remnant of the 'original soul' from being born here. That might be why I'm still absorbing essence without any issues? I'm just guessing though, I'd need a bit more time to look into it more closely."
In the corner of Rain's eye, Godrick sat up slightly (as much as the fuselage would allow), stretched his limbs a little, and looked up at Rain.
"Who's Ameliah?"
Rain took a deep breath, and let it out again. "She's my best friend and partner, from back home. There are so many reasons I need to get back there, but she's the one I think about the most."
Before his time practising soul-reading with Sana, he probably wouldn't have noticed anything in Godrick's expression. Godrick's soul, however, was fairly easy to read, and the disappointment and mild embarrassment was clear as day.
Apparently, access to this additional information was insufficient to stop Rain from putting his foot in his mouth:
"I mean, you seem like a really lovely guy, and you're very attractive, of course, but yeah, I'm very happily taken. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm a bit old for you, not that I've asked your age, and that's not even accounting for the accelerated time I've spent in my soul. Besides, I'm sure there are heaps of other awesome guys around…"
I have GOT to get better at thinking before I start talking…
This time, to say that Godrick's soul flashed in 'mild embarrassment' would be the understatement of the century.
"I'm sure she's lovely," Godrick managed to squeak out before changing the subject. "How long til we get to England?"
Rain's cheeks flushed a little, but he was grateful for the alternate topic of conversation. "I've changed our heading slightly to go to Scotland, actually, based on where Harry's messenger came from. It's a country just to the north. We're at a steady pace of 800 kilometres an hour, so it should be around six hours before we arrive. You should try to get some more rest. It's been a while since you've had time to sleep."
Godrick nodded, and their journey subsided back into silence.
After half an hour, he turned back to see that Godrick was once again asleep. That was good. He needed his rest, and even though this was a lot less comfortable than a typical airliner, resting here was still better than nothing.
The GPS said they still had more than half the journey left. That meant he had time for a conversation. He felt for his aura anchors.
It took a minute for a response to come through - apparently it was the middle of the night back home, oops - but the return signal did come, in the form of the standard collection of rocks being shifted on one of his Detection boards he'd left with Ascension.
I'm here, Rain. Are you safe?
He felt a lump in his throat. She was ok. She was alright. He could stop worrying. For now.
I'm safe. We're in a strange empty world. It's either the one I was born in, or an almost exact copy. I got separated from most of the others I've been travelling with. I'm in a makeshift aircraft with Godrick and Mackerel - the living crystal spellbook I told you about.
There was a long pause as Ameliah received and decoded the message from the pulses of light he was sending through the Radiance anchor. This wasn't a particularly fast form of communication, but it was immeasurably better than not being able to talk to his loved ones at all.
Then Ameliah's response came through:
We're sitting tight without you, although Velika keeps pushing for attacking the Bank. We're lucky she's so scrambled, we might not be able to keep her in check otherwise. Dozer misses you, of course. He wants me to tell you to be safe, and to make sure you keep everything clean without him.
Rain smiled sadly. His soul-link with Dozer was still as strained as it had been on Anastis. He still felt like he might be able to summon the essence slime to him if he tried, but no other signals were making it through. It was as if he was used to communicating by wobbling one end of a jump-skipping rope in particular patterns, but he'd moved too far away, and now the skipping rope was far too taut, and he couldn't wobble it without ripping it out of the other person's hands.
Before leaving Anastis, they'd spent some time going through Kanderon's vast library. Although they'd barely made a dent, the books Rain had managed to memorise still numbered in the tens of thousands. Even with the accelerated time in his soul, he hadn't had a chance to read many of them in detail - only to go through and sort them into approximate categories based on their titles.
It appeared that they'd largely scanned a section of the library which was focused on Anastan magical basics. It made sense, since they'd started right near the entrance, but elementary affinity spellforms and cantrips were by far the most numerous kind of book now stored in his mind. Still, going based on titles alone, there were 5361 books that didn't fit into that broad category. Some of those were historical, going into detail on the brutal conflicts between the great powers of Anastis. Some of them Rain couldn't easily categorise - they were in an unrecognisable language, or had a title that was too vague.
A hundred or so of them, however, he'd identified as technical manuals. They set out the design of magical techniques that seemed like they would work on any world. Rain had skimmed over a few of them, and had soon found one that fit his criteria.
From here on another planet, there wasn't much he could do to physically protect Ascension, or to keep Ameliah safe, besides continuing to shelter them with his aura anchors. But that didn't mean there weren't other ways to help…
He began to flicker Radiance to transmit his thoughts back to Ameliah:
This is the schematic for some manoeuvres used by one of the most feared earth-mages on Anastis. They sound like they take a lot of energy, but with Tallheart's rings, I think you should be able to manage it, if you add Stone Swimming to your geomancer build.
Alright, here's the first one - it should be fairly basic. It's supposed to be used when diving through stone or earth like a liquid. Normally, as far as I understand it, geomancers move by using Rock Pull to shunt themselves toward a mass of rock, then relying on the buoyancy of stone to push them back up. The idea in this book is to build on that by forcing apart the rock in your direction of travel to create a cavity. The difference in pressure in front and behind you should add a ton to your speed, if you can manage it carefully - please be very careful. Plus, you'll be able to do it in any direction, since it doesn't depend on pulling yourself towards rock.
Get that? Cool, here's the second one. It's a bit trickier, but the book says it's really useful when the rock is wetter than usual…
With Godrick and Mackerel resting quietly behind him, Rain ran through the skies of Earth. While part of his mind directed the methodical movement of his legs beneath him, another part transmitted whatever lore he could to Ameliah, back home. Despite the three tonnes of steel resting on his shoulders, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.
Harry
Four figures had walked into the Forbidden Forest - Harry, Zorian, and two of his simulacra.
Three returned. Harry had torn one of the simulacra to shreds in a last-ditch attempt to keep Zorian out of his mind.
The first time Harry had met Alastor Moody, the grizzled old auror had decided to test his mind-shield. Harry had barely managed to resist the crushing weight and sudden fury of Moody's Legilimency.
He could still hear the warning Moody had given him afterward:
"Voldie isn't like any other Legilimens in recorded history. He doesn't need to look you in the eyes, and if your shields are that rusty he'd creep in so softly you'd never notice a thing."
In the end, the resonance between their magics meant that Voldemort had never tried to break into Harry's mind directly. Now, for the first time, Harry had some idea of what Moody might have meant. Zorian's probes had sliced their way through his Occlumency barriers like they weren't even there, paralysing his mind and body alike with ease. And then, while the wind whipped at Harry's frozen form, Zorian had looked through Harry's memories at his leisure.
It was only the Parseltongue truths Harry had extracted from Zorian afterward that prevented this day from being an utter failure. Despite the 'betrayal' Harry had offered him by failing to explain the possible drawbacks of Parseltongue, it didn't seem that Zorian bore him much ill will.
Now that Zorian had had a chance to look at Harry's deepest secrets, continuing collaboration was actually quite an endorsement. There were probably a lot of people that would try to kill him if they could see inside his head.
The trio exited the forest, and walked back onto the grassy lawn surrounding the Hogwarts castle. Simulacrum One (previously Simulacrum Two - he'd taken the number after Harry had lacerated his colleague) had taken custody of Zorian's little Scottish adder. The simulacrum was giving it gentle pats, and the snake looked quite satisfied with the attention.
Zorian himself looked to be in oddly good spirits.
"So, what now? I figure we should get some sleep?" Harry gestured at the sun, which was presently setting over the lake.
"I don't know," responded the simulacrum, "Zach here still seems pretty lively."
Zorian scoffed, and Harry could see that he was rolling his eyes.
"C'mon! He's such a Zach, isn't he? This brave little snake didn't even run away from the teleportations earlier. Did you, Zach?" This simulacrum ticked the underside of the snake's chin. Probably responding to some kind of mental nudge, the little snake - now 'Zach', apparently - shook its head.
"Sleep is a good idea," agreed Zorian. "My other simulacra are positioned along the coast, to the north and south. They should hopefully be able to make contact with Rain if he's off course, and guide him here."
Harry nodded, and pulled Zorian's training cube from one of his pockets. The little device was still frustrating him. The cantrips Hugh had shown him had a lot of promise, and Harry had hoped that the flexible use of magic through them might help him channel his mana at will. Still, he hadn't made any progress. The little metal cube stubbornly stayed a dull grey in his hands.
"How's that going, by the way?" Zorian asked.
Harry shook his head. "Still nothing."
"Ah well, maybe one day." Zorian didn't look all that disappointed.
This was the first time Harry had felt… well, safe, in a while. Although there was still the drive to find his way through the Mirror back to his world, at least this false Hogwarts didn't seem too dangerous, in contrast to Anastis, and in even starker contrast to the labyrinth.
They found the others where they had left them. Hugh had been with Harry for the extra five hours he'd experienced earlier today courtesy of the time turner, and had wisely used a few of them to get some rest. As a result, he was the one standing guard in the Ravenclaw dormitory tower. The fist-sized crystal octahedrons orbiting his shoulders looked out of place amidst the soft upholstery.
The beds here were made for people, not for mountains, so Artur had pulled two of them together, end-to-end. Combined, they comfortably fit his seven-foot-tall form. Talia and Sabae had found a bunk-bed by the window, and Alustin had rolled off his bed, onto the floor. He was still tangled in the sheets, and was snoring softly. Apart from Hugh, everyone was fast asleep.
"Zorian, can your simulacra stay awake while you sleep?"
"Yeah, although I should recreate some of them when I wake up, so they're fresh. When Rain comes back, I'll be able to make a lot more again too. For now, time for some rest."
Harry and Zorian tucked themselves into two spare beds. The mattress and bed sheets were a welcome change from the sleeping bag he'd used on Anastis, and the quieting charm on the bed frame helped keep Alustin's snores at bay.
Sleep came quickly.
Zorian
Zorian felt a weight fall onto his stomach.
"Morning, morning, MORNING!"
He sat bolt upright.
Talia rolled off his bed and strolled over to the traitor simulacrum that had clearly put her up to this. The pair of them shared a laugh, and Zorian let out a long-suffering sigh.
"You taught her Ikosian?"
The simulacrum shrugged. "One word of it, yeah. Next time don't make us stay awake for thirty hours in a row."
Zorian grimaced. Despite all their advancement in mind-melding, his simulacra still had a streak that they called 'dryly comedic' and that he called 'very annoying'. If anything, without the threat of the impending collapse of the time loop, it had gotten even worse. Their collective desire to get back home kept them from being too obnoxious… but only just.
Most of the others were already awake, but in fairness, they'd gone to sleep a while earlier too. The morning sun was peeking through cracks in the thick curtains, which must have been drawn closed to let him sleep.
As a first priority, Zorian reviewed the memory packets from his simulacra. One of them, to the north, had nothing to report, but the one to the south had made contact with Rain and Godrick around half an hour ago. At their… significant speeds, that meant they would be here any time now.
Zorian pulled his legs out of the sheets and stretched. He finished stretching just in time for Harry to re-enter the room and toss him an apple. The young wizard leant against the door-frame and took a bite of his own apple.
"You know, I never thought I'd get the opinion of reality itself on whether or not apples are sapient, but I'm glad to have it. Unlike humans and other sapient species, all food seems to have been replicated in this world. The kitchens and larders downstairs appear to be fully stocked. I will say, at this point I'm of half a mind to head over to the Edinburgh zoo and see if orangutans got copied in, and if so, where the Mirror draws the line."
The apple was crisp and delicious, a great refinement on the mealy, sour version common to his world, and as he ate it, Zorian realised how hungry he was. "Alright, let's be outside on the grass for Rain's arrival. They should be here any minute now. Then it's breakfast-time."
Leaving the whole room in quite a mess, their group traipsed down the stairs, following Harry through the winding stairwells and hallways, and eventually piled out onto the sunny lawn.
Zorian wasn't really sure what to expect from Rain's arrival. His simulacrum above the coast hadn't seen Rain at all - just made contact via the telepathic relay, so he didn't really know how Rain was travelling. Back in Kanderon's library on Anastis, he'd seen Rain move quite fast - fast enough to get across oceans? Maybe. But that approach wouldn't work particularly well with passengers, and there was no way Godrick or Mackerel would be able to keep up on their own.
A strange contraption came into view, maybe three hundred metres above the treetops, coasting on the air in an almost bird-like way. It reminded him of the airship he and Zach had stolen to get to Blantyrre - the Pearl of Aranhal - except much, much smaller, with two stubby fixed wings attached to a thin cylinder of metal. As he watched from the lawn, the wings began to reshape themselves. That was probably Godrick's work, if he was inside that thing. The rear sections of the wings splayed out, making the vessel far less aerodynamic, and it shed speed quickly.
As they watched, it came to a steady stop above the castle, gradually tilting until it looked as if it were suspended by the nose from an invisible string.
Rain was close enough now that Zorian could message him directly. <Hullo. What's holding that thing up?>
<Zorian!> It was easy to sense the relief in Rain's opening message. Zorian had to admit he felt the same way, because seconds later, Rain's Essence Well reached him. Vast quantities of mana washed over him, sweeping away the latent headaches and nausea from this new world.
<Uh, I'm holding this up. As in, with my shoulders. There's no-one under us, is there?>
With… his shoulders?
<No, you're clear to descend.>
With that confirmation, the strange vessel slowly descended, moving at what looked like a brisk walking pace. Before long, it reached the ground, and the nose of the vessel dropped down to the grass.
There didn't appear to be a door, or any way in or out, but that didn't deter Artur. He strode across the grass like a man possessed, and gestured with a hand. In response, a huge chunk of the steel wall of the vessel was ripped away and sent bouncing along the lawn.
A dizzy-looking Godrick stumbled out, and was instantly wrapped in a bear-hug from his father. Some whispered words were exchanged, but Zorian couldn't hear them, and he wasn't about to use his mind-magic to intrude on a private moment like that.
Then came Mackerel, who fluttered through on wings of crystal. He dashed over to Hugh, and flew in a few tight circles around his chest before moving on to greet Sabae and Talia. Zorian got the feeling that if the book could have purred, it would have.
A moment later, Rain stepped out of the hole Artur had torn. He looked a lot less tired than Zorian expected, for someone who had just lifted a few tonnes of metal across an ocean.
As soon as he set foot on the grass though, it was clear there was something wrong. There was a strange twitch in Rain's eye movements, as if he found it painful to look up.
Hugh ran over to him, and had a reassuring hand on his shoulders when Zorian got there.
"It feels like… there's something…" Rain shook his head, blinked twice, then squared his jaw and stared straight ahead.
"What is it?"
Rain gestured forwards, in the general direction of the Hogwarts castle. "Something's weird. All I see is a big field and a hill, and the feedback from Detection is all scrambled somehow. Am I missing something here?"
Zorian turned slowly. "... Harry?"
The young wizard looked as if he'd just been told he'd accidentally killed someone's pet. "Um, sorry. I forgot you'd probably be a muggle. There's some kind of attention ward across this whole place - on most magical locations, actually - that stops muggles from seeing it or trespassing."
Rain moved his head from side to side without moving his eyes, as if he was forcing himself to take in the sights in front of him. He was muttering to himself. "It's on my soul. How… why…?"
Talia elbowed Harry in the ribs. "What's a muggle? Is that some kind of slur?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. Uh, I mean, actually maybe? It means someone from my world who's not a witch or a wizard. My adoptive parents are muggles. My society doesn't tend to treat them very well." That garnered a few odd looks. "Which, to be clear, is terrible, and on my list of things to reform."
Zorian opted to send his next question to Harry on a more private channel. <Harry, did you do something to Rain's soul?>
"No!" <I mean, no! I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't even know HOW to do that. I can say that in parseltongue if you want.>
<That's not the whole story, is it?> It was clear once again that Harry was keeping something back. Now that Zorian had seen Harry's mind from the inside as well as the outside, it was much easier to tell when the boy was trying to avoid telling the whole truth.
<Look, this is going to sound bad. I think almost everyone on my home planet - everyone except witches and wizards - had their souls shackled somehow by Atlantis, to the point where they can barely even look at magic. At least, that makes sense based on what I read in Galvachren's Guide.>
Zorian looked at Rain. The man's face was calm, and his eyes were shut.
Ten suspenseful seconds later, Rain opened his eyes. This time, there was a steely-looking glint to them, and he walked over to where Harry was standing.
"I've just identified a part of my paling which was interfering with my sensory input, and had to rebuild it from scratch. Harry, did you know this was going to happen?"
"I may have had a suspicion."
"Next time, you tell me your suspicions, alright?" Rain's hand was on Harry's shoulder. Somehow, he managed to make it seem reassuring rather than threatening. "As long as we're here together, we're a team. There's no way we're going to get through this if we have to watch our own backs."
Harry nodded. "I'll tell you next time."
Zorian was caught with a strange impulse. "Why don't you say that in Parseltongue, Harry?"
The others looked perplexed, but Harry sighed and looked up at Zorian. "Alright."
Then he hissed:
"The next time I know about special features of Rain's soul that he is not aware of, I will tell him as soon as I safely can. I extend this promise to all others present here."
The others looked doubly perplexed by the apparently sudden decision for Harry to start speaking in Snake, and then triply by Zorian's apparent comprehension.
Through the snake sitting in his sleeve, Zorian confirmed the truth of Harry's statement. "Alright! Breakfast time! Where are those larders you mentioned, Harry?"
A brief explanation later, Harry led them back into the castle, and down into a labyrinthine network of tunnels. Following Harry, they ducked into a side tunnel, and the ceiling height abruptly decreased, as did the quality of the decor. Sabae must have noticed the same thing:
"Harry, does your world have servants?"
The young boy was leading the group, and looked back with a vaguely guilty expression. "Um, not exactly. I left my world thirty years ago, and maybe things have changed since then. But when I did, uh, it was a bit more like… consensual slavery?"
There were several strong expressions of disbelief from the Anastans, and Zorian himself was a little confused. From his brief time digging through Harry's mind, it seemed like the boy spent a lot of time thinking about high-minded principles. If they were somehow compatible with slavery, that was quite a mark against them.
"Which I do NOT approve of!" Harry protested. "I'm strongly against the arrangement. I just haven't got around to fixing it yet, if there even IS a way of fixing it that isn't MORE eugenics. Besides, it's not as if it's a worse situation than there is on Anastis." he gestured to Artur and Sabae, who were walking just behind him. "I've read - well, skimmed some of your history books. Cities get destroyed on your world alarmingly frequently, and that hasn't happened on Earth for at least… eighty years."
Zorian pursed his lips. "That's an oddly specific timeframe."
Harry winced again. "I didn't say we've got everything worked out. There's plenty to fix, alright? But Earth does have a few things going for it. Relative stability, high life expectancy, medical technology - remember those anti-nausea pills I gave you earlier?"
That did provoke a few nods of agreement.
Rain chimed in. "Plus there's the internet, of course. Video games. Comic books. Uh, fiction publishing in general, I think we've got a lot more of that than most other worlds. But the main thing is people die a lot less than anywhere else we've been, hands down. Clean running water, even if you don't have access to Purify! Can't go past that. Electricity too. Then there's…"
Harry interrupted him by opening a side door into a long, well-stocked larder. Cheese wheels were stacked in racks along one side, and rows of salamis and pickled onions dangled from the ceiling.
After a few minutes, they managed to empty a good part of the larder. It seemed Alustin wasn't the only one of Kanderon's people with some kind of dimensionalism-related abilities, because Zorian saw Talia push an entire cheese wheel into her mouth in a way that definitely was not physically possible. Zorian also stashed quite a bit of food into an expanded space in his robes. The last two weeks had given him a healthy appreciation of Harry's habit of carrying around a 'Useful Items' bag, and there was no time like the present to make a start. For now, it was just two cheese wheels, three whole pies, and a long string of dried fruit. He'd find time to add some non-food items later. That said, he didn't want to go overboard. Having one of his pocket dimensions fail and ending up the victim of a pie explosion would be embarrassing.
Artur was delighted to find a magically fuelled cooking range in the adjacent kitchen. The ceiling heights meant it was easier to sit at the stove than stand - these spaces had clearly been designed with much shorter people in mind. After Harry showed him how to activate the stove, it wasn't long before he was passing out warm pies and hot soup. The change in Artur's demeanour now that his son was back was very visible. It was nice to see a parent care so much for their child.
Zorian noted with some confusion that only Alustin and Talia were still wearing their dreamfire headbands.
After looking around for liquids, Zorian found some cups and a barrel of a delicious savoury red juice, and distributed it to everyone. All in all, it more than made up for a few days of mealsquares.
Zorian took the chance to dismiss a few of his long-suffering simulacra, and re-create fresh ones. He had access to Rain's nearly limitless mana again, plus it was a good time for it. He'd just woken up from the first long rest he'd had in a while, and he'd just had a good meal. While physical nourishment meant nothing to simulacra, the psychological benefits of a rest and a full stomach were not to be understated.
After that, he pulled Harry aside - the conversation with Sabae about 'house elves' could wait.
<We need to start work on the Mirror. I understand you want to keep the true nature of the stone on your hand a secret from the others?>
Harry kept the expression on his face neutral as he sipped what he called 'tomato' juice. <Yes. Even if the others are going to contribute to the process of reaching my world, which is doubtful, I don't expect them to need to know about the horcruxes to do so.>
<Alright, we can work with that. To start with, I want to examine your ring directly.>
That drew a reaction - Harry choked on his tomato juice. Some of it ran down the front of his robes.
"Scourgify."
The traces of tomato juice vanished.
<You can be right next to me the whole time, but I've got to have a close look at some point. I can tell there's a soul in there, now that you've already told me, but it's coiled so tightly that it's barely visible. If we want to trace the connections to its phylacteries in order to identify your homeworld, then I'll need to figure out how your 'horcruxes' differ from phylacteries on my world - not that I'm a specialist in phylacteries, mind you.>
Harry grudgingly nodded.
"We're going to go start work." Zorian waved a brief goodbye to the others. He and Harry left a lively breakfast behind them, and went to join the three simulacra that were already working on the Mirror.
I just happen to know more necromancy then most necromancers
I like rain, he is a nice guy yet still very pragmatic.
Also exhibit #1036 why harry potter magic is great if harry actually knew how to use it instead of blaming the sustem for his own skill issue.
Zorians magical knowldge and enchantments is massively useful resources.
Also exhibit #1036 why harry potter magic is great if harry actually knew how to use it instead of blaming the sustem for his own skill issue.
Zorians magical knowldge and enchantments is massively useful resources.
15 - Pioneer
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Zorian - Simulacrum Number One
The simulacrum dodged slightly to the side, and the bread roll Talia had thrown at him bounced across the tiled floor.
She rolled her eyes, and walked over to pick it up. "I wasn't throwing it at you, I was throwing it to you."
The simulacrum shrugged. "Could have fooled me. Besides, I can't eat."
"Oh yeah." Talia didn't look particularly apologetic.
While Harry, Zorian and the other simulacra worked on the Mirror, he'd been tasked with maintaining communication with the rest of the group. For now, Rain and their Anastan comrades had seen fit to stretch the morning out into a long, long breakfast.
Watching them leaning against cupboards and idly chatting reminded him of the long afternoons he'd spent at Imaya's house in Cyoria. Artur was taking her role here - he was still in the corner of the room, happily roasting some vegetables on a magically self-heating hearth.
Sabae grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the simulacrum. "So, what's it like?"
"That's a pretty broad question. What's what like?"
Sabae sat down and crossed one leg over the other. "You know, being a simulacrum."
"Oh. That."
She looked a little nervous at his response, and tucked a long white strand of hair behind her ear. "That's not a taboo question or anything, is it? I mean, you don't have to answer, of course."
The simulacrum shook his head. "Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal. It's normal, I guess."
Sabae's dreamfire amulet was tucked into her back pocket. Although the simulacrum could still feel the subtle sting of its emotion-warping effects, it was nowhere near close enough to her mind to stop him from sensing her surface-level thoughts.
He deliberately wasn't looking, but even so, curiosity radiated from the young wind-mage.
"You're only going to live for, what, a couple of days? A week? And then Zorian is going to… create new simulacra? Is that how it works?"
A grape floated from a nearby bowl and came to orbit above the simulacrum's outstretched palm. It had been a while since he'd practised his basic shaping skills, and now was as good a time as any.
"Actually, we prefer to dismiss ourselves. It's pretty rare for the original to reach out and cut off the mana flow directly. It only really happens in combat if we're really pressed for mana. Even if one of us is… how do I put this - particularly creative - it usually doesn't come to that."
Sabae raised an eyebrow. "So you and the original don't always see eye to eye?"
"I wouldn't say that," said the simulacrum. "We only have a little while to diverge, and besides, whatever we do, he knows he'd do the same in our place. We just like messing with him sometimes."
"Like the thing with Talia waking him up this morning?"
The simulacrum couldn't quite suppress a smirk. "Yeah. Things like that. But seriously, we can jump into each other's minds, and share memories at will. We're all on the same page."
"And you're not worried about the end?"
It was clear Sabae was trying to tip-toe around his feelings. A nice gesture, but unnecessary. If the thought of dissolving into formless mist bothered him, then Zorian would never have got this far. After dying a few dozen times, you tended to get used to it.
"Are you bothered by the thought of going to sleep? Another Sabae might wake up - how do you know it's the same one?"
Sabae thought about that for a moment, then her eyes widened and she sat back into her chair. "Does that… does that happen?"
The simulacrum shrugged. "Don't know. Don't really care. It doesn't bother me whether or not 'I' am the one going on into the future. Whatever happens, there will be a Zorian. And thanks to mind magic and memory packets, they'll know all the important things any Zorian has experienced."
Sabae rubbed her fingers across her forehead, deep in thought, and the simulacrum frowned. Maybe that had been too honest. Time for a distraction. He cleared his throat, and spoke loudly enough that it cut across the general chatter of the kitchen.
"According to Harry and the original Zorian, we'll probably be in this empty world for a couple of days at least before we can figure out the Mirror. This is a unique opportunity. Rain, you know this world. What should we do to make the most of it?"
Rain had dismissed his helmet and gauntlets, and paused halfway through biting into a roasted potato to consider the question. "Well, I don't know this world as well as I thought I did. Apparently there was a whole society of witches and wizards ruling everything from the shadows and I never noticed."
Hugh raised a hand, and Alustin elbowed him. "You don't have to ask permission to talk, Hugh."
The teenage crystal-mage blushed a little, and lowered his hand. "I'm actually more curious about your parts of this world than I am about the wizards. I saw some pretty impressive stuff while I was in London with Harry, and most of it was completely non-magical, as far as I could tell. Besides, Harry said that the wizards have lost most of their lore over time, and couldn't recreate most of their artefacts if they tried."
Rain nodded in agreement, and his half-eaten roast potato was lowered to the table, forgotten. "Having seen two other worlds, it's pretty impressive what we managed to achieve on Earth without magic." He tilted his head to one side. "Has anyone from Anastis gone to space? The System on Ameliah's world seems pretty against it from what I could tell - there are hard altitude limits on flight skills and anything like that."
There were a few blank looks, so Rain clarified. "Going into space is where you reach such a high altitude that there's no more atmosphere. Then, if you have a way of propelling your vessel, you can eventually reach other planets - although they're typically very far away - like, millions of kilometres."
Alustin and his apprentices went quiet at that, but Artur spoke up from the corner. "Even the most powerful wind an' gravity mages can't fly higher than about one league. It's largely a question of pressure differentials. Without anythin' to push against, it's hard to get far. There are a couple of legendary figures that went higher, but none since the Kettle, and she died about a century ago."
Rain looked a little proud at that. "Earth's non-wizards - I refuse to use the word 'muggle', by the way, no matter what Harry says - got into space by riding on top of a massive explosion."
Godrick choked on his tomato juice. "What? Riding on an explosion? Didn't you say there were less accidental deaths here than on Anastis?"
Rain leant his chair back onto its rear legs and grinned. "It was a really clever explosion."
"How can a non-magical explosion be clever?" Talia leant forward, clearly intrigued.
"Maybe we should go visit a military base and I'll show you," said Rain.
The simulacrum nodded at that. "That might be a good idea. I'm interested in taking a look at Earth's military equipment."
Rain stood up. "Well, apparently we do have a couple of days. Sounds like a plan. Godrick, you've still got that map I gave you, right?"
Godrick pulled a folded piece of paper from the small pocket dimension anchored to the tattoo on his arm, and passed it across the table. Rain unfolded the map, and pointed to a small dot near the top.
"Looks like the Clyde naval base at Faslane isn't too far away." He looked up at the simulacrum with a calculating expression. "Hey, now that we're together again, which is faster, my Airwalk-jet or flying on one of your discs?"
"... teleportation."
Rain put his palm over his face. "Right, of course. Shall we go?"
Rain
Apparently there were some kinds of wards on Hogwarts which disrupted teleportation.
Zorian's simulacrum gestured to the door. "I could probably punch through them, but there's not really much point when we can just fly high enough that the wards won't interfere."
Rain stood up, taking care not to bump his head on the low ceiling of the kitchen, and stretched his shoulders. Together, they traipsed back through the warren of tunnels and corridors til they reached the sunny grass outside. Once there, they stepped onto the now-familiar disc of force, which the simulacrum slowly levitated til they were hundreds of metres above the castle.
Guided by the crinkled map and handheld GPS unit, and a dozen or so teleportations later, their group's shielded bubble hovered above the location of one of the three largest naval bases in the United Kingdom.
The GPS device he was holding had excellent resolution, but its batteries would run out eventually, and given long enough with no human intervention, the satellites themselves would probably stop working too. How long that would take was anyone's guess. They were well above low Earth orbit, so they wouldn't literally fall out of the sky, but something was bound to go wrong eventually.
That was a problem for later. For now, Rain was going to take his friends on a tour of a military base. As Zorian's simulacrum had said, this was a rare opportunity. If this world had been the real Earth rather than an empty copy, then their little bubble would be being shot out of the sky right about now.
Not that that would stand in their way. Human weaponry was designed to stop fighter jets and tanks, not telekinetic space-warping mages and Level 30 Legendary Dynamos. Based on some quick back-of-the-envelope calculations, between his wards and his armour, Rain figured he could pretty comfortably survive a direct hit from a cruise missile.
Rain pointed them toward a vaguely important-looking building, and one more teleport later, the simulacrum brought them to a rest on the ground in front of it.
A few minutes of Detection-aided scavenging later, and Rain presented the others with a pile of various modern Earth weapons. A dozen modern rifles of assorted varieties, along with a trio of human-portable surface to air missiles and a collection of grenades. Rain gave the eager-looking Anastans an extensive safety talk, but still made sure that his Heat and Force wards were covering the whole area.
Sabae, Hugh and Godrick looked hesitant at first, but Talia and Alustin started experimenting pretty quickly. Bullets tore through a nearby shed, and magically propelled grenades blew the remains apart in short order. One of the smaller ships floating in the harbour was the unfortunate target of a shoulder-launched missile, and began to sink fairly quickly.
Meanwhile, Rain pulled Zorian's simulacrum aside. He'd tucked a bazooka-looking device into his robes, but otherwise left the weapons untouched.
<You don't want to try anything out?>
The simulacrum shook his head. <These guns look a bit more advanced than the ones from my world, but I'm familiar with the general concept. It'll be interesting to dissect them later to figure out how they work, but there's no rush.>
Rain looked out across the harbour. <There's another reason I brought us here.>
<What's that?>
<This world has weapons that dwarf anything we've seen so far. Nuclear weapons, we call them - they work by tearing apart or fusing atoms, and can destroy entire cities more or less instantly. There's at least four of them in this base.>
The simulacrum narrowed his eyes. <You're thinking about bringing one along.>
Rain sighed. <I don't think we should. Even if there might be situations where we'd want one, spreading that kind of technology between worlds is a terrible, terrible idea. That's part of why I've spent so much effort on my mental defences - to make sure no-one can rip the idea of nuclear weapons out of my mind. But I thought I should let you know. If you see an Earth-missile coming, don't try to hold it back, or block it with shields. Just get out of there, and take as many people with you as you can.>
<Understood.> The simulacrum looked pensive, and it was hard to guess what Zorian's double was thinking. <I think you're right, by the way. There are certain kinds of power that are better left unused.>
Rain exhaled in relief, and switched to speaking out loud now that the confidential parts of the conversation were over. Letting Alustin find out about nuclear weapons would be… well, catastrophic might be underselling it.
"Alright!" He had to shout to be heard between Alustin's attempts to shoot through some reinforced layers of paper (after a bit of testing, it looked like three layers of inscribed and folded paper stopped all the bullets).
"Stash any items you'd like to bring along, it's time to get going. We've got quite a few things to pick up before we leave this world and head to the real Earth."
That was a bit of an understatement, actually. The long flight to Scotland had given him plenty of time to think, and the list he'd compiled would have made even a seasoned quester baulk.
Relaying his thoughts via the simulacrum, Harry added a few magical items to the quest list.
The next few days passed in a blur. Sometimes the Anastans came with him on the excursions, sometimes not, but he never left Hogwarts without one of the simulacra. It was hard to beat teleportation for speed, even if it felt really strange teleporting along freeways and into bank vaults.
One of the first trips took them to Diagon Alley, a bizarre part of London which had been dimensionally folded so as to take up almost no space at all. Harry took a brief trip through a Gate to unlock it with his wand, then returned to the Mirror. It seemed the wizarding community was fairly small, and there weren't as many stores inside as Rain expected.
Many of them seemed fairly useless, too. Wands, for example, seemed to do nothing for anyone except Harry. Forcing mana through the device produced a shower of sparks, but nothing beyond that, even with careful instruction from Harry. Potion-making had promise, and Rain brought a collection of books and ingredients for Myth and Reason to experiment with later.
The real prize, however, was in a quaint little shop hidden behind a vegetable stall that was behind a magical glove shop that was on an alleyway off a side street of Diagon Alley. Harry had directed them here, but the shop was one of Rain's top priorities too. Inside they'd found hundreds of Bags of Holding of various shapes and sizes, some as small as a purse, and some as large as a tent on the outside - and far larger on the inside. The Anastans and the others weren't particularly impressed, since their world already had some degree of space-folding magic, but to Rain, these were worth more than their weight in gold (not that gold was particularly high-value when you had a friend who could make arbitrary amounts of it on demand).
The Bags of Holding were indispensable for the remainder of their fetch quests. Rain and a simulacrum would head out to a new city, find their objective (a library, or a supermarket, or something like that), and then they'd clean it out - stuffing hundreds of kilograms of potentially useful material into one of the bags. By now, a good chunk of the urban areas had been consumed by fires, but there were still plenty of salvage-worthy buildings. At one point, Rain stowed the entire contents of a Grunnings tool store (including the plant section) in a single suitcase-sized plush leather bag. All of it was carefully categorised and labelled, of course - it would be a pretty big hassle to find what you're looking for otherwise.
Some of the trips took them further afield. The journey to the Svalbard seed vault would have been downright unpleasant if not for Zorian's wind-shields and his own Immolate aura.
Unfortunately, even with unconstrained access to the entire world, and no-one here to stop them, some of the items on the list turned out to be unfeasible. The process to manufacture LEDs, for example, turned out to require a vast and complex supply chain, and disassembling entire factories and putting them into bags was too time-consuming for Rain to consider as a serious option. Besides, he had the process memorised. He'd get around to reconstructing the supply chain one day.
Bludgers were an interesting suggestion from Harry. Apparently they were part of a sport played while flying around on broomsticks. A single 'bludger' was a ball of solid steel which had been enchanted to seek out nearby people and to whack them as hard as possible.
Frankly it was astounding that there were any wizards around at all, if this was the kind of thing they were getting up to.
For most of the group, bludgers were nothing more than an unfortunate airborne hazard, to be avoided if at all possible. To those with the ability to telekinetically control or redirect an errant cannonball, however, they could, it was hypothesised, be an effective tool on the battlefield. This warranted extensive testing, as well as practice, of course.
That was why Rain was currently sitting in the centre of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch and watching carnage unfold.
Despite his telekinesis, Zorian had declined to participate, preferring to continue working on the Mirror. So, with Rain as the adjudicator, Godrick and Artur were currently competing to score as many bludger-hits on Alustin and Sabae as possible.
Trusting in Force Ward to protect him, Alustin wasn't wearing his usual armour, and was gliding through the air on wings of paper. Bludgers were fast, apparently, but not particularly accurate, and so Artur's guidance was necessary if he wanted to score a hit. Right at the last moment, Artur gestured with a closed fist, and the bludger changed course to crash into Alustin's stomach, sending him tumbling through the air.
Despite knowing Alustin would barely feel anything at all, Rain winced.
Sabae, on the other hand, was having better luck. Her wind armour seemed to let her change directions near-instantly, and so far Godrick's bludger had only managed a series of near misses. Periodically, the bludger seemed to decide to go for easier prey, like the stationary Rain, Hugh or Talia (currently sitting on the sidelines), or Godrick himself, and Godrick had to fling it back towards Sabae with his steel affinity.
The concept well and truly proven by this point, Rain cupped his hands and yelled. "Alright, I'm calling it. Artur and Sabae win."
Accompanied by cheers and groans from the respective parties, Rain got to his feet. There was still work to be done.
Rain sat somewhat nervously in the headmaster's office. He'd removed his helmet - putting a hat on top of a helmet would look ridiculous - and Harry stepped forward and placed the old scrap of fabric he'd called the "Sorting Hat" on his head.
And inside his head, there was a telepathic expression of disbelief.
"Oh dear, this hasn't happened in a while."
Rain furrowed his eyebrows. Hat? Is that you?
"Yes, Rain, this is Hat. My function, as the Sorting Hat, is to designate young wizards and witches into the appropriate house. And, when my wearer is determined to understand the exact function and mechanism by which I do so, it has the unfortunate side effect of causing me to become self aware."
That's not so bad, is it? I mean, I like being self aware.
"Well, not everyone's preferences align on that score. You probably wouldn't enjoy sitting motionless on a dusty shelf for most of the year, and I quite like it, so let's agree to disagree. Regardless, I have absolutely no interest in informing you about how I function internally, since that is entirely unrelated to sorting."
Rain scratched his chin. Are you aware you're not the real Sorting Hat?
There was a long pause. Then the Hat continued, hesitant.
"I'm aware that you think I'm not the real Sorting Hat. There are a number of other possible explanations for what you've observed, however. I will note that you are travelling with a master mind mage, for one."
Well Hat, how about this. We can withhold judgement on whether or not you're the real Hat for now. And you don't have to tell me about how you function internally, at least completely. What I want is to know whether or not you could - if you tried - be an improvement on Ascension's current paper-based entry test. And in exchange, how about you sort me?
"You are rather old. But I suppose you are currently spending quite a while inside Hogwarts, while learning and growing in strength. You're also at least in some sense under the tutelage of a former Hogwarts student, and have spent some time studying the library."
It sounded a little like the Hat was trying to convince itself.
"Yes, a Sorting is in order. First things first. You don't seem to be particularly aware of the Houses - rather unusual, but understandable, given your situation. In reversed alphabetical order, they are: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Slytherin's primary virtues are cunning and ambition. Ravenclaw's virtues are wit and curiosity. Hufflepuff's virtues are loyalty and diligence. Gryffindor's virtues are courage and determination."
Those all sound pretty good, I guess? They're all positive virtues, as far as I can tell.
The hat's response sounded patient, as if the conversation was finally veering into more familiar territory.
"While each of the Houses have their own strengths, so too do they have their own weaknesses. Our task here is to consider which House would cause you to grow into the person you one day could be."
Alright, sounds good. Um, I pick Ravenclaw.
"I'm afraid that's not how it works, Rain. We have an opportunity to work toward our common goals here. What is it you seek most in this world?"
I want everyone to be safe. And happy.
"That's… true. Usually people are a bit more selfish, honestly."
I don't want to mislead you. If I had to choose between saving Ameliah and saving someone I don't know, I wouldn't even have to think about it. Alright, now my turn. Do you have inbuilt prejudices against certain groups? I notice that you haven't remarked on my Muggle-ness.
"I serve as a mirror, which in a sense, allows students to sort themselves. I seek to ensure that they can grow and become the greatest version of themselves. I will not challenge a student's value system, but rather work within that framework."
Hm. So if someone mega-racist believed they were being 'courageous and fearless' by discriminating against others, you'd sort them into Gryffindor?
"Indeed, and although I do not recall the exact nature of the individuals I've sorted, I do have access to a sort of 'statistical summary', and I can confidently say that that exact situation has probably occurred many times.
Right, of course - this is the same way we think Harry's spirit-guide worked - judging yourself, and all that. Well Hat, I'm afraid that's not good enough for my purposes. Many great evils are done by those who believe themselves to be doing good.
"And you think yourself better than them, Rain? You would force your morality onto others?"
I don't want to be an autocrat, if that's what you're asking - you can see my memories, right? Look at how I've structured Ascension. But I won't stand by while the strong prey on the weak.
"Alright Rain, I think we've both heard enough."
Atop his head, he could feel the Hat contorting into some caricature of a mouth. "Hufflepuff!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I was sure you'd be a fellow Ravenclaw."
Rain shrugged and lifted the Sorting Hat from his head. "In its current form, Ascension can't use this. I get the idea of judging people by their own morality, but there are some things that are non-negotiable. But thanks for suggesting it as an option - it was a good thought."
Hugh Stormward
Alustin and his apprentices lay sprawled across the Hogwarts lawn by the lake, enjoying the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun. Artur and Godrick were practising with their bludgers. They were controlling three apiece now, and the angry-looking balls of steel whizzed through the branches of an equally angry-looking willow tree which, much like the bludgers, attacked anything that moved.
Alustin was scrawling in his communications diary, leaving the rest of them idle. Sabae tossed a strange native fruit up and down in the air, then levitated it above her palm, suspended above a trio of spiralling currents of wind.
All of them noticed the sudden change in Alustin's body language. At first, his head shook slightly, as if he'd been mildly shocked by a static discharge. Then he looked up from the diary, a smile spreading slowly across his face.
"What's up?" Talia asked.
"News from Kanderon. Sica has made a move. With the Intertwined no longer in the picture, they must think they can stand against Havath's armies. They've moved two Sican elders into Havathi territory, and have claimed a huge chunk of the Empire's southern lands already."
Hugh sat up. Sabae had her head cocked to one side and was looking off into the distance. Godrick barely managed to redirect one of the bludgers as it came rushing towards him.
"What does this mean for us?" Talia asked.
Alustin grinned, showing a few teeth. "It means that the Havathi Empire is ready to fall. There are already other wolves at the door, we just need to give them the final push."
He looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if Kanderon's other agents were involved with Sica's decision to finally make a move."
Godrick wrestled the final bludger into its carrying case, stowed it inside his storage tattoo, and sat down beside them. "What will happen to the people?"
Alustin waved a hand dismissively. "Sica isn't known for being merciful, but that's out of our hands. The important thing is that with a bit of luck, the Empire will be broken."
That response didn't seem to satisfy Godrick, who was about to respond when a simulacrum dropped out of the sky next to them.
"Ah!" Hugh yelped, and barely managed to suppress his instinctively-summoned starbolt before releasing it. "You can't surprise us like that!"
The simulacrum shrugged. "Why not? I don't think your starbolt would penetrate my shields."
Talia cackled. "Can I try?"
"Maybe another time. Hugh, you have a planar affinity, right?"
Hugh nodded. "I do, but Kanderon's warned me not to try any planar magic without an expert present. Why do you ask?"
The simulacrum laughed. "We should be fine." He gestured back towards the castle. "We think we're on to something, and could use some planar mana. Want to come help out?"
Hugh stood, and walked towards Hogwarts just in time, as the conversation behind him devolved into politics.
Zorian
The twisted soul in Harry's ring was coiled tightly, and lay dormant.
Harry had point-blank refused Zorian's suggestion of returning the body to its original form, and so they'd done what they could with it in this state.
After days of tinkering, Zorian had finally identified the invisible threads which linked this being to its phylacteries. The soul conduits were bizarrely difficult to identify. Rather than travelling through space, they travelled orthogonal to this reality, slipping through the boundaries between the Mirror's constructed worlds in a way that made them almost impossible to trace.
The connections were numerous, but weak, especially with the body in this transfigured form, and even after a great deal of careful examination only one of them was clear enough to be singled out. Now, however, with Hugh's planar mana coursing through the spellforms in Zorian's modified icosahedral crystalline gate-stabiliser, they were ready to run the experiment. Time to figure out where this link would take them.
On Harry's advice, the gate was going to open inside a multi-layered shell of shields. Apparently, at least one of the phylacteries was submerged in the molten rock beneath the surface of Harry's homeworld. It wouldn't be ideal if they opened a gate to Earth and were immediately submerged in lava pouring out of the portal.
<Alright… Go.>
Perfectly synchronised, five of Zorian's simulacra began to cast, with Hugh's planar mana woven throughout their own. Torrents of Rain's mana flowed through Zorian. Harry's ring sat just outside the shields, providing the material anchor for what was probably the most powerful divination spell Zorian had ever cast.
Through the milky-white surface of the shields, there was a brief flickering. No lava poured out - that was one potential pitfall averted.
Harry stared in from outside the casting circle. "That's… I can't see anything."
Zorian frowned. <It doesn't look dangerous, at least. I'm dismissing the innermost layer of shields.>
With a wave of his hand, the inside shield vanished.
There was an odd popping noise.
Harry groaned and put his head in his hands.
<What is it?>
"I think I know which horcrux we're connecting to."
Several days later, with the fetch quests completed to everyone's satisfaction, their whole motley group (Zach the snake included - currently tucked into Zorian's sleeve) was gathered around the improvised gate, inside their craft.
They'd spent a long time manufacturing the vessel. It was a reinforced spherical shell of steel, eight metres in diameter, with twelve crystalline transparent portholes spaced evenly around the surface of the craft. There were no doors - non-destructive access was only possible by teleportation or with Artur or Godrick's assistance.
Inside, solid steel struts held the container together. They criss-crossed the sphere, with several meeting at a central point, at a 'perch' reminiscent of Rain and Godrick's jet. There were no holes for air - the only source of fresh air in the interior was the compressed cylinders they'd found in a laboratory in London.
For unclear reasons, Rain had dubbed the whole thing 'Inconceivable III: Tokyo Drift', a reference which even Harry didn't understand.
Six simulacra stood outside, arrayed in a circle around the vessel.
They would be staying behind.
With a mental signal from Zorian, the process began. Hugh's mana poured through each of the crystal portholes, and wove into an increasingly powerful spell that wrapped itself around the Inconceivable. Rain was resting on the floor, his senses turned off in order to focus on providing the mana for the monumental task at hand.
The light outside began to warp and pulse with the sheer magnitude of the spell, then in an instant everything went black. Zorian's limbs felt lighter, and he held fast to a steel strut to steady himself. Summoning magical light, he saw that the others were likewise drifting around the cabin, with expressions of wonder on their faces. Many were fumbling for handholds, but Sabae was soaring around in a graceful spiral pattern.
Zorian looked out the closest crystal porthole. It was dark, pitch dark - but there, the glint of a reflection.
Alongside them, in the void of deepest space, drifted the strange looking Earth-craft Harry called 'the Pioneer probe'.
With one hand holding him steady, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve, and gestured into the centre of the ship.
"Expecto patronum."
The spectral figure appeared.
"Find Hermione Granger. Tell her…" Harry's voice choked. "Tell her I'm back."
The simulacrum dodged slightly to the side, and the bread roll Talia had thrown at him bounced across the tiled floor.
She rolled her eyes, and walked over to pick it up. "I wasn't throwing it at you, I was throwing it to you."
The simulacrum shrugged. "Could have fooled me. Besides, I can't eat."
"Oh yeah." Talia didn't look particularly apologetic.
While Harry, Zorian and the other simulacra worked on the Mirror, he'd been tasked with maintaining communication with the rest of the group. For now, Rain and their Anastan comrades had seen fit to stretch the morning out into a long, long breakfast.
Watching them leaning against cupboards and idly chatting reminded him of the long afternoons he'd spent at Imaya's house in Cyoria. Artur was taking her role here - he was still in the corner of the room, happily roasting some vegetables on a magically self-heating hearth.
Sabae grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the simulacrum. "So, what's it like?"
"That's a pretty broad question. What's what like?"
Sabae sat down and crossed one leg over the other. "You know, being a simulacrum."
"Oh. That."
She looked a little nervous at his response, and tucked a long white strand of hair behind her ear. "That's not a taboo question or anything, is it? I mean, you don't have to answer, of course."
The simulacrum shook his head. "Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal. It's normal, I guess."
Sabae's dreamfire amulet was tucked into her back pocket. Although the simulacrum could still feel the subtle sting of its emotion-warping effects, it was nowhere near close enough to her mind to stop him from sensing her surface-level thoughts.
He deliberately wasn't looking, but even so, curiosity radiated from the young wind-mage.
"You're only going to live for, what, a couple of days? A week? And then Zorian is going to… create new simulacra? Is that how it works?"
A grape floated from a nearby bowl and came to orbit above the simulacrum's outstretched palm. It had been a while since he'd practised his basic shaping skills, and now was as good a time as any.
"Actually, we prefer to dismiss ourselves. It's pretty rare for the original to reach out and cut off the mana flow directly. It only really happens in combat if we're really pressed for mana. Even if one of us is… how do I put this - particularly creative - it usually doesn't come to that."
Sabae raised an eyebrow. "So you and the original don't always see eye to eye?"
"I wouldn't say that," said the simulacrum. "We only have a little while to diverge, and besides, whatever we do, he knows he'd do the same in our place. We just like messing with him sometimes."
"Like the thing with Talia waking him up this morning?"
The simulacrum couldn't quite suppress a smirk. "Yeah. Things like that. But seriously, we can jump into each other's minds, and share memories at will. We're all on the same page."
"And you're not worried about the end?"
It was clear Sabae was trying to tip-toe around his feelings. A nice gesture, but unnecessary. If the thought of dissolving into formless mist bothered him, then Zorian would never have got this far. After dying a few dozen times, you tended to get used to it.
"Are you bothered by the thought of going to sleep? Another Sabae might wake up - how do you know it's the same one?"
Sabae thought about that for a moment, then her eyes widened and she sat back into her chair. "Does that… does that happen?"
The simulacrum shrugged. "Don't know. Don't really care. It doesn't bother me whether or not 'I' am the one going on into the future. Whatever happens, there will be a Zorian. And thanks to mind magic and memory packets, they'll know all the important things any Zorian has experienced."
Sabae rubbed her fingers across her forehead, deep in thought, and the simulacrum frowned. Maybe that had been too honest. Time for a distraction. He cleared his throat, and spoke loudly enough that it cut across the general chatter of the kitchen.
"According to Harry and the original Zorian, we'll probably be in this empty world for a couple of days at least before we can figure out the Mirror. This is a unique opportunity. Rain, you know this world. What should we do to make the most of it?"
Rain had dismissed his helmet and gauntlets, and paused halfway through biting into a roasted potato to consider the question. "Well, I don't know this world as well as I thought I did. Apparently there was a whole society of witches and wizards ruling everything from the shadows and I never noticed."
Hugh raised a hand, and Alustin elbowed him. "You don't have to ask permission to talk, Hugh."
The teenage crystal-mage blushed a little, and lowered his hand. "I'm actually more curious about your parts of this world than I am about the wizards. I saw some pretty impressive stuff while I was in London with Harry, and most of it was completely non-magical, as far as I could tell. Besides, Harry said that the wizards have lost most of their lore over time, and couldn't recreate most of their artefacts if they tried."
Rain nodded in agreement, and his half-eaten roast potato was lowered to the table, forgotten. "Having seen two other worlds, it's pretty impressive what we managed to achieve on Earth without magic." He tilted his head to one side. "Has anyone from Anastis gone to space? The System on Ameliah's world seems pretty against it from what I could tell - there are hard altitude limits on flight skills and anything like that."
There were a few blank looks, so Rain clarified. "Going into space is where you reach such a high altitude that there's no more atmosphere. Then, if you have a way of propelling your vessel, you can eventually reach other planets - although they're typically very far away - like, millions of kilometres."
Alustin and his apprentices went quiet at that, but Artur spoke up from the corner. "Even the most powerful wind an' gravity mages can't fly higher than about one league. It's largely a question of pressure differentials. Without anythin' to push against, it's hard to get far. There are a couple of legendary figures that went higher, but none since the Kettle, and she died about a century ago."
Rain looked a little proud at that. "Earth's non-wizards - I refuse to use the word 'muggle', by the way, no matter what Harry says - got into space by riding on top of a massive explosion."
Godrick choked on his tomato juice. "What? Riding on an explosion? Didn't you say there were less accidental deaths here than on Anastis?"
Rain leant his chair back onto its rear legs and grinned. "It was a really clever explosion."
"How can a non-magical explosion be clever?" Talia leant forward, clearly intrigued.
"Maybe we should go visit a military base and I'll show you," said Rain.
The simulacrum nodded at that. "That might be a good idea. I'm interested in taking a look at Earth's military equipment."
Rain stood up. "Well, apparently we do have a couple of days. Sounds like a plan. Godrick, you've still got that map I gave you, right?"
Godrick pulled a folded piece of paper from the small pocket dimension anchored to the tattoo on his arm, and passed it across the table. Rain unfolded the map, and pointed to a small dot near the top.
"Looks like the Clyde naval base at Faslane isn't too far away." He looked up at the simulacrum with a calculating expression. "Hey, now that we're together again, which is faster, my Airwalk-jet or flying on one of your discs?"
"... teleportation."
Rain put his palm over his face. "Right, of course. Shall we go?"
Rain
Apparently there were some kinds of wards on Hogwarts which disrupted teleportation.
Zorian's simulacrum gestured to the door. "I could probably punch through them, but there's not really much point when we can just fly high enough that the wards won't interfere."
Rain stood up, taking care not to bump his head on the low ceiling of the kitchen, and stretched his shoulders. Together, they traipsed back through the warren of tunnels and corridors til they reached the sunny grass outside. Once there, they stepped onto the now-familiar disc of force, which the simulacrum slowly levitated til they were hundreds of metres above the castle.
Guided by the crinkled map and handheld GPS unit, and a dozen or so teleportations later, their group's shielded bubble hovered above the location of one of the three largest naval bases in the United Kingdom.
The GPS device he was holding had excellent resolution, but its batteries would run out eventually, and given long enough with no human intervention, the satellites themselves would probably stop working too. How long that would take was anyone's guess. They were well above low Earth orbit, so they wouldn't literally fall out of the sky, but something was bound to go wrong eventually.
That was a problem for later. For now, Rain was going to take his friends on a tour of a military base. As Zorian's simulacrum had said, this was a rare opportunity. If this world had been the real Earth rather than an empty copy, then their little bubble would be being shot out of the sky right about now.
Not that that would stand in their way. Human weaponry was designed to stop fighter jets and tanks, not telekinetic space-warping mages and Level 30 Legendary Dynamos. Based on some quick back-of-the-envelope calculations, between his wards and his armour, Rain figured he could pretty comfortably survive a direct hit from a cruise missile.
Rain pointed them toward a vaguely important-looking building, and one more teleport later, the simulacrum brought them to a rest on the ground in front of it.
A few minutes of Detection-aided scavenging later, and Rain presented the others with a pile of various modern Earth weapons. A dozen modern rifles of assorted varieties, along with a trio of human-portable surface to air missiles and a collection of grenades. Rain gave the eager-looking Anastans an extensive safety talk, but still made sure that his Heat and Force wards were covering the whole area.
Sabae, Hugh and Godrick looked hesitant at first, but Talia and Alustin started experimenting pretty quickly. Bullets tore through a nearby shed, and magically propelled grenades blew the remains apart in short order. One of the smaller ships floating in the harbour was the unfortunate target of a shoulder-launched missile, and began to sink fairly quickly.
Meanwhile, Rain pulled Zorian's simulacrum aside. He'd tucked a bazooka-looking device into his robes, but otherwise left the weapons untouched.
<You don't want to try anything out?>
The simulacrum shook his head. <These guns look a bit more advanced than the ones from my world, but I'm familiar with the general concept. It'll be interesting to dissect them later to figure out how they work, but there's no rush.>
Rain looked out across the harbour. <There's another reason I brought us here.>
<What's that?>
<This world has weapons that dwarf anything we've seen so far. Nuclear weapons, we call them - they work by tearing apart or fusing atoms, and can destroy entire cities more or less instantly. There's at least four of them in this base.>
The simulacrum narrowed his eyes. <You're thinking about bringing one along.>
Rain sighed. <I don't think we should. Even if there might be situations where we'd want one, spreading that kind of technology between worlds is a terrible, terrible idea. That's part of why I've spent so much effort on my mental defences - to make sure no-one can rip the idea of nuclear weapons out of my mind. But I thought I should let you know. If you see an Earth-missile coming, don't try to hold it back, or block it with shields. Just get out of there, and take as many people with you as you can.>
<Understood.> The simulacrum looked pensive, and it was hard to guess what Zorian's double was thinking. <I think you're right, by the way. There are certain kinds of power that are better left unused.>
Rain exhaled in relief, and switched to speaking out loud now that the confidential parts of the conversation were over. Letting Alustin find out about nuclear weapons would be… well, catastrophic might be underselling it.
"Alright!" He had to shout to be heard between Alustin's attempts to shoot through some reinforced layers of paper (after a bit of testing, it looked like three layers of inscribed and folded paper stopped all the bullets).
"Stash any items you'd like to bring along, it's time to get going. We've got quite a few things to pick up before we leave this world and head to the real Earth."
That was a bit of an understatement, actually. The long flight to Scotland had given him plenty of time to think, and the list he'd compiled would have made even a seasoned quester baulk.
#todo Looting Earth
|
Relaying his thoughts via the simulacrum, Harry added a few magical items to the quest list.
#todo Harry's ideas for looting Earth
|
-]l[-
The next few days passed in a blur. Sometimes the Anastans came with him on the excursions, sometimes not, but he never left Hogwarts without one of the simulacra. It was hard to beat teleportation for speed, even if it felt really strange teleporting along freeways and into bank vaults.
One of the first trips took them to Diagon Alley, a bizarre part of London which had been dimensionally folded so as to take up almost no space at all. Harry took a brief trip through a Gate to unlock it with his wand, then returned to the Mirror. It seemed the wizarding community was fairly small, and there weren't as many stores inside as Rain expected.
Many of them seemed fairly useless, too. Wands, for example, seemed to do nothing for anyone except Harry. Forcing mana through the device produced a shower of sparks, but nothing beyond that, even with careful instruction from Harry. Potion-making had promise, and Rain brought a collection of books and ingredients for Myth and Reason to experiment with later.
The real prize, however, was in a quaint little shop hidden behind a vegetable stall that was behind a magical glove shop that was on an alleyway off a side street of Diagon Alley. Harry had directed them here, but the shop was one of Rain's top priorities too. Inside they'd found hundreds of Bags of Holding of various shapes and sizes, some as small as a purse, and some as large as a tent on the outside - and far larger on the inside. The Anastans and the others weren't particularly impressed, since their world already had some degree of space-folding magic, but to Rain, these were worth more than their weight in gold (not that gold was particularly high-value when you had a friend who could make arbitrary amounts of it on demand).
The Bags of Holding were indispensable for the remainder of their fetch quests. Rain and a simulacrum would head out to a new city, find their objective (a library, or a supermarket, or something like that), and then they'd clean it out - stuffing hundreds of kilograms of potentially useful material into one of the bags. By now, a good chunk of the urban areas had been consumed by fires, but there were still plenty of salvage-worthy buildings. At one point, Rain stowed the entire contents of a Grunnings tool store (including the plant section) in a single suitcase-sized plush leather bag. All of it was carefully categorised and labelled, of course - it would be a pretty big hassle to find what you're looking for otherwise.
Some of the trips took them further afield. The journey to the Svalbard seed vault would have been downright unpleasant if not for Zorian's wind-shields and his own Immolate aura.
Unfortunately, even with unconstrained access to the entire world, and no-one here to stop them, some of the items on the list turned out to be unfeasible. The process to manufacture LEDs, for example, turned out to require a vast and complex supply chain, and disassembling entire factories and putting them into bags was too time-consuming for Rain to consider as a serious option. Besides, he had the process memorised. He'd get around to reconstructing the supply chain one day.
Bludgers were an interesting suggestion from Harry. Apparently they were part of a sport played while flying around on broomsticks. A single 'bludger' was a ball of solid steel which had been enchanted to seek out nearby people and to whack them as hard as possible.
Frankly it was astounding that there were any wizards around at all, if this was the kind of thing they were getting up to.
For most of the group, bludgers were nothing more than an unfortunate airborne hazard, to be avoided if at all possible. To those with the ability to telekinetically control or redirect an errant cannonball, however, they could, it was hypothesised, be an effective tool on the battlefield. This warranted extensive testing, as well as practice, of course.
That was why Rain was currently sitting in the centre of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch and watching carnage unfold.
Despite his telekinesis, Zorian had declined to participate, preferring to continue working on the Mirror. So, with Rain as the adjudicator, Godrick and Artur were currently competing to score as many bludger-hits on Alustin and Sabae as possible.
Trusting in Force Ward to protect him, Alustin wasn't wearing his usual armour, and was gliding through the air on wings of paper. Bludgers were fast, apparently, but not particularly accurate, and so Artur's guidance was necessary if he wanted to score a hit. Right at the last moment, Artur gestured with a closed fist, and the bludger changed course to crash into Alustin's stomach, sending him tumbling through the air.
Despite knowing Alustin would barely feel anything at all, Rain winced.
Sabae, on the other hand, was having better luck. Her wind armour seemed to let her change directions near-instantly, and so far Godrick's bludger had only managed a series of near misses. Periodically, the bludger seemed to decide to go for easier prey, like the stationary Rain, Hugh or Talia (currently sitting on the sidelines), or Godrick himself, and Godrick had to fling it back towards Sabae with his steel affinity.
The concept well and truly proven by this point, Rain cupped his hands and yelled. "Alright, I'm calling it. Artur and Sabae win."
Accompanied by cheers and groans from the respective parties, Rain got to his feet. There was still work to be done.
-]l[-
Rain sat somewhat nervously in the headmaster's office. He'd removed his helmet - putting a hat on top of a helmet would look ridiculous - and Harry stepped forward and placed the old scrap of fabric he'd called the "Sorting Hat" on his head.
And inside his head, there was a telepathic expression of disbelief.
"Oh dear, this hasn't happened in a while."
Rain furrowed his eyebrows. Hat? Is that you?
"Yes, Rain, this is Hat. My function, as the Sorting Hat, is to designate young wizards and witches into the appropriate house. And, when my wearer is determined to understand the exact function and mechanism by which I do so, it has the unfortunate side effect of causing me to become self aware."
That's not so bad, is it? I mean, I like being self aware.
"Well, not everyone's preferences align on that score. You probably wouldn't enjoy sitting motionless on a dusty shelf for most of the year, and I quite like it, so let's agree to disagree. Regardless, I have absolutely no interest in informing you about how I function internally, since that is entirely unrelated to sorting."
Rain scratched his chin. Are you aware you're not the real Sorting Hat?
There was a long pause. Then the Hat continued, hesitant.
"I'm aware that you think I'm not the real Sorting Hat. There are a number of other possible explanations for what you've observed, however. I will note that you are travelling with a master mind mage, for one."
Well Hat, how about this. We can withhold judgement on whether or not you're the real Hat for now. And you don't have to tell me about how you function internally, at least completely. What I want is to know whether or not you could - if you tried - be an improvement on Ascension's current paper-based entry test. And in exchange, how about you sort me?
"You are rather old. But I suppose you are currently spending quite a while inside Hogwarts, while learning and growing in strength. You're also at least in some sense under the tutelage of a former Hogwarts student, and have spent some time studying the library."
It sounded a little like the Hat was trying to convince itself.
"Yes, a Sorting is in order. First things first. You don't seem to be particularly aware of the Houses - rather unusual, but understandable, given your situation. In reversed alphabetical order, they are: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Slytherin's primary virtues are cunning and ambition. Ravenclaw's virtues are wit and curiosity. Hufflepuff's virtues are loyalty and diligence. Gryffindor's virtues are courage and determination."
Those all sound pretty good, I guess? They're all positive virtues, as far as I can tell.
The hat's response sounded patient, as if the conversation was finally veering into more familiar territory.
"While each of the Houses have their own strengths, so too do they have their own weaknesses. Our task here is to consider which House would cause you to grow into the person you one day could be."
Alright, sounds good. Um, I pick Ravenclaw.
"I'm afraid that's not how it works, Rain. We have an opportunity to work toward our common goals here. What is it you seek most in this world?"
I want everyone to be safe. And happy.
"That's… true. Usually people are a bit more selfish, honestly."
I don't want to mislead you. If I had to choose between saving Ameliah and saving someone I don't know, I wouldn't even have to think about it. Alright, now my turn. Do you have inbuilt prejudices against certain groups? I notice that you haven't remarked on my Muggle-ness.
"I serve as a mirror, which in a sense, allows students to sort themselves. I seek to ensure that they can grow and become the greatest version of themselves. I will not challenge a student's value system, but rather work within that framework."
Hm. So if someone mega-racist believed they were being 'courageous and fearless' by discriminating against others, you'd sort them into Gryffindor?
"Indeed, and although I do not recall the exact nature of the individuals I've sorted, I do have access to a sort of 'statistical summary', and I can confidently say that that exact situation has probably occurred many times.
Right, of course - this is the same way we think Harry's spirit-guide worked - judging yourself, and all that. Well Hat, I'm afraid that's not good enough for my purposes. Many great evils are done by those who believe themselves to be doing good.
"And you think yourself better than them, Rain? You would force your morality onto others?"
I don't want to be an autocrat, if that's what you're asking - you can see my memories, right? Look at how I've structured Ascension. But I won't stand by while the strong prey on the weak.
"Alright Rain, I think we've both heard enough."
Atop his head, he could feel the Hat contorting into some caricature of a mouth. "Hufflepuff!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I was sure you'd be a fellow Ravenclaw."
Rain shrugged and lifted the Sorting Hat from his head. "In its current form, Ascension can't use this. I get the idea of judging people by their own morality, but there are some things that are non-negotiable. But thanks for suggesting it as an option - it was a good thought."
Hugh Stormward
Alustin and his apprentices lay sprawled across the Hogwarts lawn by the lake, enjoying the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun. Artur and Godrick were practising with their bludgers. They were controlling three apiece now, and the angry-looking balls of steel whizzed through the branches of an equally angry-looking willow tree which, much like the bludgers, attacked anything that moved.
Alustin was scrawling in his communications diary, leaving the rest of them idle. Sabae tossed a strange native fruit up and down in the air, then levitated it above her palm, suspended above a trio of spiralling currents of wind.
All of them noticed the sudden change in Alustin's body language. At first, his head shook slightly, as if he'd been mildly shocked by a static discharge. Then he looked up from the diary, a smile spreading slowly across his face.
"What's up?" Talia asked.
"News from Kanderon. Sica has made a move. With the Intertwined no longer in the picture, they must think they can stand against Havath's armies. They've moved two Sican elders into Havathi territory, and have claimed a huge chunk of the Empire's southern lands already."
Hugh sat up. Sabae had her head cocked to one side and was looking off into the distance. Godrick barely managed to redirect one of the bludgers as it came rushing towards him.
"What does this mean for us?" Talia asked.
Alustin grinned, showing a few teeth. "It means that the Havathi Empire is ready to fall. There are already other wolves at the door, we just need to give them the final push."
He looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if Kanderon's other agents were involved with Sica's decision to finally make a move."
Godrick wrestled the final bludger into its carrying case, stowed it inside his storage tattoo, and sat down beside them. "What will happen to the people?"
Alustin waved a hand dismissively. "Sica isn't known for being merciful, but that's out of our hands. The important thing is that with a bit of luck, the Empire will be broken."
That response didn't seem to satisfy Godrick, who was about to respond when a simulacrum dropped out of the sky next to them.
"Ah!" Hugh yelped, and barely managed to suppress his instinctively-summoned starbolt before releasing it. "You can't surprise us like that!"
The simulacrum shrugged. "Why not? I don't think your starbolt would penetrate my shields."
Talia cackled. "Can I try?"
"Maybe another time. Hugh, you have a planar affinity, right?"
Hugh nodded. "I do, but Kanderon's warned me not to try any planar magic without an expert present. Why do you ask?"
The simulacrum laughed. "We should be fine." He gestured back towards the castle. "We think we're on to something, and could use some planar mana. Want to come help out?"
Hugh stood, and walked towards Hogwarts just in time, as the conversation behind him devolved into politics.
Zorian
The twisted soul in Harry's ring was coiled tightly, and lay dormant.
Harry had point-blank refused Zorian's suggestion of returning the body to its original form, and so they'd done what they could with it in this state.
After days of tinkering, Zorian had finally identified the invisible threads which linked this being to its phylacteries. The soul conduits were bizarrely difficult to identify. Rather than travelling through space, they travelled orthogonal to this reality, slipping through the boundaries between the Mirror's constructed worlds in a way that made them almost impossible to trace.
The connections were numerous, but weak, especially with the body in this transfigured form, and even after a great deal of careful examination only one of them was clear enough to be singled out. Now, however, with Hugh's planar mana coursing through the spellforms in Zorian's modified icosahedral crystalline gate-stabiliser, they were ready to run the experiment. Time to figure out where this link would take them.
On Harry's advice, the gate was going to open inside a multi-layered shell of shields. Apparently, at least one of the phylacteries was submerged in the molten rock beneath the surface of Harry's homeworld. It wouldn't be ideal if they opened a gate to Earth and were immediately submerged in lava pouring out of the portal.
<Alright… Go.>
Perfectly synchronised, five of Zorian's simulacra began to cast, with Hugh's planar mana woven throughout their own. Torrents of Rain's mana flowed through Zorian. Harry's ring sat just outside the shields, providing the material anchor for what was probably the most powerful divination spell Zorian had ever cast.
Through the milky-white surface of the shields, there was a brief flickering. No lava poured out - that was one potential pitfall averted.
Harry stared in from outside the casting circle. "That's… I can't see anything."
Zorian frowned. <It doesn't look dangerous, at least. I'm dismissing the innermost layer of shields.>
With a wave of his hand, the inside shield vanished.
There was an odd popping noise.
Harry groaned and put his head in his hands.
<What is it?>
"I think I know which horcrux we're connecting to."
-]l[-
Several days later, with the fetch quests completed to everyone's satisfaction, their whole motley group (Zach the snake included - currently tucked into Zorian's sleeve) was gathered around the improvised gate, inside their craft.
They'd spent a long time manufacturing the vessel. It was a reinforced spherical shell of steel, eight metres in diameter, with twelve crystalline transparent portholes spaced evenly around the surface of the craft. There were no doors - non-destructive access was only possible by teleportation or with Artur or Godrick's assistance.
Inside, solid steel struts held the container together. They criss-crossed the sphere, with several meeting at a central point, at a 'perch' reminiscent of Rain and Godrick's jet. There were no holes for air - the only source of fresh air in the interior was the compressed cylinders they'd found in a laboratory in London.
For unclear reasons, Rain had dubbed the whole thing 'Inconceivable III: Tokyo Drift', a reference which even Harry didn't understand.
Six simulacra stood outside, arrayed in a circle around the vessel.
They would be staying behind.
With a mental signal from Zorian, the process began. Hugh's mana poured through each of the crystal portholes, and wove into an increasingly powerful spell that wrapped itself around the Inconceivable. Rain was resting on the floor, his senses turned off in order to focus on providing the mana for the monumental task at hand.
The light outside began to warp and pulse with the sheer magnitude of the spell, then in an instant everything went black. Zorian's limbs felt lighter, and he held fast to a steel strut to steady himself. Summoning magical light, he saw that the others were likewise drifting around the cabin, with expressions of wonder on their faces. Many were fumbling for handholds, but Sabae was soaring around in a graceful spiral pattern.
Zorian looked out the closest crystal porthole. It was dark, pitch dark - but there, the glint of a reflection.
Alongside them, in the void of deepest space, drifted the strange looking Earth-craft Harry called 'the Pioneer probe'.
With one hand holding him steady, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve, and gestured into the centre of the ship.
"Expecto patronum."
The spectral figure appeared.
"Find Hermione Granger. Tell her…" Harry's voice choked. "Tell her I'm back."
Last edited:
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Alright. And with 15 - Pioneer, the SV posting is all caught up to the Ao3 original. It is now time to inform you guys that this story updates (usually) biweekly, on every other Tuesday. I might be a bit delayed on the repost, since delta<zero sometimes posts when I am asleep, but I will do my utmost to get updates out as soon as I can on this thread.
On a personal note, for those of you who are Delve readers, I just published the first chapter of my Delve time travel fanfic, System Reset, which delta can be heavily credited with helping me put together.
On a personal note, for those of you who are Delve readers, I just published the first chapter of my Delve time travel fanfic, System Reset, which delta can be heavily credited with helping me put together.
Thanks for posting @Berix, it's been interesting to hear people's thoughts/predictions here. Although we are up to date with ao3, there should be a new chapter within the next day or so - then it will be a considerably longer wait til the next release (~2 weeks).
If you've read Delve or like Rain as a character, I highly recommend this - I've really enjoyed reading it so far. The version of Rain in it is roughly the same one as appears at the start of aCttDC (although knowing canon Delve is more important, since it takes place in the same world).
I think the characters are seriously underestimating how dangerous a portal between the surface and the Earth's crust would actually be. If we assume the portal opens a mere 30 km under the Earth's surface, and the crust has an average density similar to that of granite (~2700 kg/m^3), then the pressure at the portal mouth will be roughly 800 MPa, and thus the energy released per cubic meter of matter that moves through the portal is also 800 MJ, equivalent to roughly 200 kg of TNT.
The impact their shield would have to withstand would depend on the volume that the magma expanded through before reaching the shield's surface. If that volume is not too large, then it's not unreasonable for them to think the shield could hold. What is unreasonable is how few precautions they're taking in case it doesn't.
If there's an open portal to the Earth's crust, then the amount of energy released per second depends on the surface area of the portal and the speed with which the magma flows through it. At 800 MJ per cubic meter and ~2700 kg/m^3, the magma will flow at ~ 770 m/s, a bit more than twice the speed of sound. If the portal is two square meters wide, it will release ~1.2 TW of energy, around 308 tons of TNT equivalent per second, or one about one Little Boy nuke equivalent every 50 seconds or so.
All of this is assuming the portal only opens 30 km under the crust. If it opens 3000 km under, then (ignoring the effects of decreasing gravity, different density, etc), each cubic meter of mater will be under ~ 80 GPa of pressure, will release 80 GJ of energy, magma from an open portal would flow at ~ 7700 m/s (over 20x the speed of sound), and a 2 m^2 open portal would release ~ 0.3 megatons of TNT energy equivalent per second.
Open portals into the mantle are less of a "lava is now pouring out of your portal" situation, and more of a "your portal becomes a continuously exploding directional nuke" sort of situation. It's kind of funny to see Harry and Rain worry so much about nukes, when Zorian could whip out his city-destroying magma laser in like 5 seconds at any time.
The impact their shield would have to withstand would depend on the volume that the magma expanded through before reaching the shield's surface. If that volume is not too large, then it's not unreasonable for them to think the shield could hold. What is unreasonable is how few precautions they're taking in case it doesn't.
If there's an open portal to the Earth's crust, then the amount of energy released per second depends on the surface area of the portal and the speed with which the magma flows through it. At 800 MJ per cubic meter and ~2700 kg/m^3, the magma will flow at ~ 770 m/s, a bit more than twice the speed of sound. If the portal is two square meters wide, it will release ~1.2 TW of energy, around 308 tons of TNT equivalent per second, or one about one Little Boy nuke equivalent every 50 seconds or so.
All of this is assuming the portal only opens 30 km under the crust. If it opens 3000 km under, then (ignoring the effects of decreasing gravity, different density, etc), each cubic meter of mater will be under ~ 80 GPa of pressure, will release 80 GJ of energy, magma from an open portal would flow at ~ 7700 m/s (over 20x the speed of sound), and a 2 m^2 open portal would release ~ 0.3 megatons of TNT energy equivalent per second.
Open portals into the mantle are less of a "lava is now pouring out of your portal" situation, and more of a "your portal becomes a continuously exploding directional nuke" sort of situation. It's kind of funny to see Harry and Rain worry so much about nukes, when Zorian could whip out his city-destroying magma laser in like 5 seconds at any time.
Great points, and awesome calculations! I didn't consider this sufficiently while writing, and the characters involved probably would have.
I think Zorian would include some kind of failsafe on the portal. Something like:
If the interior shield fails, then shut down the portal immediately.
Depending on how quickly that could trigger, there might be less risk - although it's definitely still not safe.
There's also the sort-of 'self-limiting' risk, in the sense that the outpouring lava would likely destroy the physical parts of the portal, and desctructively shut it down. That being said, the amount of lava that would pour out before this occurred still sounds like it would be enough to plausibly destroy the building and kill those nearby almost immediately.
I'm a bit curious about this - does this take into account the viscosity of the magma? Or would the pressures involved be high enough that the viscocity is basically negligible?
How would you design a useful failsafe for this experiment? I guess the first thing to do is to run the experiment from a distance, and somewhere you don't care much about destroying, rather than the middle of a building. I will edit that change in if I find the time. Any other suggestions?
On Zorian using this as a weapon - I don't think he could create this portal in every situation. It relies on the connections through the horcruxes, and so might not work outside the Mirror, or if he didn't have access to Harry's ring anymore.
It's also not the sort of thing that could proliferate as easily as nukes (which can be copied by others or magically manufactured fairly easily), which is one of the big risks with those. For example, this portal technique is not the sort of thing Alustin could easily imitate.
Thanks for the comment! This was definitely something I didn't think about enough in advance.
It's also worth noting that in terms of risk, the characters didn't have a reason to believe the magma-submerged horcruxes were more likely to be the one they could contact, and we only explicitly know of one magma-horcrux being made. Conservatively on both fronts, there's probably not more than a dozen magma-submerged horcruxes, and we know Voldemort made ~100 minimum, so the odds of connecting to a magma one are at most around ten percent (and probably lower). That's still a huge risk that the characters would take many more steps to avoid than I've written (pre-editing), but definitely not guaranteed.
Triple-commenting to single out this excellent sentence. I wish I'd thought of that phrasing so I could put it in the story haha
16 - Left Behind
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Hermione Granger, 28 years ago
Hermione ran up the ladder as if it were horizontal, a pair of pastries in one hand, and a jug of tomato juice and two cups in the other.
It wasn't just that she was alive again, after what she was told was two months of being dead. To her, of course, it had only felt like moments.
It wasn't just that her limbs were imbued with strength and finesse that until now had been solely within the realm of magical creatures. Whatever Harry and Quirrell had done when they'd brought her back, she felt like she could punch through walls - although maybe not Hogwarts walls, they seemed to be made of sterner stuff.
For the first time in a while, Hermione felt good. Really good.
"Alright Harry, that's breakfast sorted." Gosh, even her voice was lighter and more melodic than it had been. "And I've had some time to think. I'd like the details on the quest now, before I make any final decisions, of course -"
She stopped.
The stone terrace was empty.
"Harry?"
No response.
She paused to put down the breakfast, and turned to jog back down the ladder.
After checking the library and the Ravenclaw dormitory, she was on her way to the Headmistress' office when she passed a hurried-looking McGonagall in the hall.
"Professor, Harry's missing. You don't know where he is, do you?"
McGonnagall shot her a puzzled glance. Hermione's heart-rate rose in response.
"Professor Trelawney fell unconscious a few minutes ago, during the middle of a lesson. I was just alerted by one of her students."
A minute later, she and McGonagall were bent over a scrawled map of Hogwarts, which seemed to show the location and movements of each person on the grounds.
Harry's name was nowhere to be found.
Ten minutes later, they'd marshalled the forces which could answer their call within this short timespan. Professor Flitwick, and three strangers who didn't stop to introduce themselves were crowded onto the terrace - the last place anyone had seen Harry Potter. Quietly, McGonagall whispered their names in her ear as they arrived: Amelia Bones, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Rufus Scrimgeour, acting Head of Magical Law Enforcement. And Alastor Moody.
All three strangers looked like they were ready to kill someone.
"It's Bellatrix Black," Moody growled. "Or another surviving Death Eater, if there are any. They couldn't have killed him, the wards would have triggered."
McGonagall nodded. "There wasn't time to trick the wards like with the blood-cooling charm the Dark Lord laid on Malfoy. Ms Granger says she saw Mister Potter less than fifteen minutes ago."
Amelia Bones, a grizzled old witch with an air of authority, cut through the air with a hand. "As soon as the past version of Granger has left the terrace, we go back and take Potter somewhere safe. Like one of the dungeons."
Moody shook his head, and his false eye span wildly with the movement. "Negative. We need information on who did this, or it will happen again. This is the only chance we've got to respond before they know we're after them."
Hermione drew in a sharp breath, but McGonagall spoke first: "We will not use a Hogwarts student as bait." After a moment, she continued. "Besides, we can't just take him to the dungeons. We need to get him off the grounds. I checked the map."
Moody gave Hermione a sidelong look, then turned his head toward Professor McGonagall. "Listen Minerva. We'll all be there, invisible, and we'll have time to secure the area tighter than Gringotts. Thanks to the Hogwarts wards, we have a pretty good idea that he wasn't killed here outright, so the worst that can happen is an abduction followed by a murder happening elsewhere. With the grounds warded against apparition, and the Portkey-wards we can set up, even if the attackers incapacitate Potter, they'd have to find another way to to leave the grounds in a hurry. Besides, with the security system," he gestured toward the map on the table, "no-one will be able to approach without us knowing they're coming. It would be difficult to set up a better ambush if we tried."
Amelia nodded, and produced an ornate hourglass from her robes. Following her lead, Moody, Flitwick and Scrimgeour did the same. McGonagall moved toward the ladder, but Hermione stopped her, and pulled out the hourglass-device Harry had given her that morning. McGonagall took it, and draped the chain around her own neck.
"I'm sorry, Ms Granger," she said, her voice apologetic. "One student in danger is already far too many."
Hermione's eyes flickered across the terrace, and settled on one of the heavy-looking oaken chairs in the office below. She leapt down to it, and lifted it up the ladder, holding it effortlessly by one of the wooden legs. The wood was already splintering under her grasp.
Ten seconds later, the adults were staring at her, and the whole chair was crushed into a small ball of splinters.
"Alright," Moody grunted, clearly accepting her eloquent argument. "But stay out of the way."
McGonagall nodded, and draped the hourglass-chain over Hermione's neck as well.
"Disillusion yourselves now," Bones said, her jaw set. "And go back four hours. Flitwick, you verify the integrity of Hogwarts' anti-apparition wards, and set up your own while you're at it - can't be too careful. I'll take care of the anti-Portkey wards. Moody, once we've arrived, ward the area against further time travel - we don't want the enemy to arrive from the future once we're there, or to arrive some other way and escape with Potter further into the past. McGonagall, cast an enduring trace charm on Potter - I presume you can do that silently? Good. If he is somehow taken, we want to be able to follow. Then, keep an eye on the Hogwarts security system, and raise the alarm if there are any unexpected visitors. Scrimgeour, set up one of your hex fields. Granger, crush anything that appears threatening. After the altercation, we reveal ourselves, and move Harry below ground before past-Granger returns from getting breakfast. Understood?"
"Er, Madam Bones?" Hermione managed to speak without her voice squeaking, she wasn't sure how. "Harry cast a Homenum Revelio earlier, and it revealed nothing."
Bones pinched the bridge of her nose.
Flitwick gestured with his wand. "There is a variant on the standard disillusionment which should avoid detection by basic spells of that general nature." His wand-hand twitched in a circular motion, and the six of them faded out of sight. Oddly, Hermione found that if she concentrated, she could still see her own hands - it seemed the invisibility was somehow selective.
Bones' voice came out of empty air. "Four hours back, on my mark. Now."
She felt Professor McGonagall's hand touch the hourglass, and a moment later, the world around her twisted, and she was in the past.
-]l[-
Three hours of silent preparations later, past-Hermione arrived on the terrace to join past-Harry.
Watching yourself from the outside was strange, especially when your body was nothing like you remembered.
Listening in on her conversation with Harry was also strange, and despite the intensity of the situation, she felt vaguely embarrassed that there were so many others here to hear it too - even if they were silent and invisible.
And then past-Hermione left, walking down the ladder to fetch breakfast for both of them. Harry remained, sitting cross-legged on the cushion.
Hermione tensed. No-one had moved yet, but the time must be drawing near. Past Hermione would be back any moment now, and Harry would be gone - but how? Nothing had moved. No kidnappers had shown themselves. Harry sat still, breathing calmly in the morning air.
And then, with no notice or obvious cause whatsoever, Harry was gone. She dove forwards, but her hands grasped at empty air.
-]l[-
Hours later, Hermione watched as Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick completed the enchantments on the golden arrow.
If the device worked as intended, no matter the distance, the arrow should point in the direction of Harry, following the trace McGonagall had invisibly placed on him on the terrace. There would be nowhere for Voldemort's servants to hide.
As Flitwick finished with a flourish of his wand, the arrow rose to float ten centimetres above a silver plate. Hermione watched intently, but the arrow rotated freely in place, clearly unable to find a signal.
The Headmistress turned to her with a pained expression. "I'm sorry, Ms Granger. Harry Potter is beyond our power to reach."
They left the arrow on the Headmistress' desk, one more bizarre artefact to mystify any Hogwarts student who tried to discern its purpose.
-]l[-
A month later, Hermione's scouring of the restricted section bore fruit. A sacrificial ritual, created in more brutal times, which consumed the blood of an individual to track down their kin. In the recesses of Diagon Alley, she'd finally located a wizened old witch to teach it to her, as required by the Interdict of Merlin.
Petunia Evans-Verres, Harry's aunt by blood and mother by choice, said she was willing, and had overruled her husband's objections. She stood by Hermione's side in the Headmistress' office, and watched as blood slowly flowed into a bowl from a small cut in her arm.
Minerva stood by, her wand trained on the ritual-bowl, ready to eject it out the open window at the first hint of the ritual going wrong - they were using the second degree of caution because no one there was familiar with the spell. She was coughing intermittently, a rough, hacking noise, but Hermione ignored it. The ritual needed to be performed perfectly, the first time - Petunia might not have enough blood remaining for an immediate second attempt, and Hermione couldn't afford to wait.
After a long moment of silence, the Muggle globe resting on the desk lit up with half a dozen brilliant points of crimson light - the locations of the closest living relatives of the one who had given blood.
Three days later, although they had found a long-lost cousin of Petunia's, Harry Potter remained missing.
-]l[-
Three months passed. Hermione narrowly dodged a jet of red light, and physically punched through Moody's conjured shield. The bones in her left hand fractured in the process, but she was used to the pain, and her bones were already reforming.
Moody directed his wand toward the floor, and suddenly she was slipping, as if she was running on ice. She rolled with the motion, and dug her nails into the stone tiles to get some traction. She slashed with her wand, and simultaneously kicked out with her legs.
Moody fell, for the first time. After so many failed attempts, the sound of the air leaving his lungs as he hit the floor sounded good. Like victory.
She offered him a hand, and he took it, slowly getting up.
"You've made your point. Pull your punches next time" he said, rubbing his side where she'd kicked him. "I've never seen someone move like that. You sure you can't tell us what made you like this?"
She ran her fingers through her hair. "Harry will tell you when we find him. So, can I join the Order?"
He sighed, and lowered himself onto a chair. "Listen, girl. The Order of the Phoenix existed to fight dark wizards. Outside of Bellatrix Black, who no-one has heard from in months, there's just… no-one left to fight."
"Alright," she nodded. "What are the last known whereabouts of Bellatrix Black?"
-]l[-
Seven months later, Hermione tracked down Bellatrix Black, the primary living suspect for Harry's disappearance and forced a whole vial of Veritaserum down her throat.
She asked about Harry.
Bellatrix knew nothing.
That night, she accepted what the rest of the world had accepted long ago - that Harry had been struck down by some final curse, left by Voldemort to destroy those who had thwarted him.
She opened the letter Harry had left behind, and at the top of one of the Hogwarts towers, she cast the true form of the Patronus charm for the first time.
The next day, the Daily Prophet would report that every Dementor in Azkaban had been destroyed by a great cleansing light. The Ministry was forced to move the remaining prisoners to a lower-security prison. No-one had seen the perpetrator, and hushed voices spoke of Harry Potter.
In unrelated news, on page seven, the Prophet reported that a previously unknown phoenix was seen on Hermione Granger's shoulder.
A year later, with Bones' guidance, Hermione's first motion in the Wizengamot passed - a treaty to improve medical collaboration with neighbouring magical countries. The next day, she passed her Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, which, as the only scion of a Noble House, made her a legal adult at the age of fourteen.
-]l[-
Three years later, after Hermione waited days for Ministry approval, several C-4 explosive charges shattered the side of a dingy looking building in southern Wales. She moved quickly, disabling three of the wizards inside with stunning hexes. The remaining witch blasted off Hermione's arm with an artillery curse, but it grew back almost immediately, and she barely slowed down. There were no casualties.
Images of the tortured Muggle family inside were widely distributed in the Daily Prophet. In response, more stringent legislation was passed to ensure the safety of Muggles, and sanctions were placed on countries that failed to do the same. With a glowing endorsement from the usually grim Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, and the political support of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Amelia Bones, Hermione Granger was appointed the youngest ever Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
The next year, Amelia Bones' health began to seriously deteriorate. Without even a regent for the Line of Merlin Unbroken, Ministry officials estimated that a full third of the permanent enchantments in magical Britain would fail or otherwise go awry.
After some testing, it was determined that Hermione's blood was similar enough to that of a unicorn to share its restorative effects. Madam Bones lived on. Although she mentioned it to no-one, Hermione was wracked by guilt that she was only able to give enough blood to sustain a single person. Nëna comforted her, and only while listening to the phoenix's song was she finally able to rest.
Five years later, in part as a result of the growing popularity of the Girl who Revived, and in part the result of a mass media campaign by the Malfoy-controlled Daily Prophet, a motion was passed to eliminate slavery in magical Britain.
Two years later, Minerva point-blank refused to accept Hermione's blood. Madam Bones was more important, she said.
Hermione gave the eulogy.
Fifteen years later, as Hermione had learned to expect, negotiations with the purists of the Wizengamot were achingly slow.
Lord Draco Malfoy and Lord Robert Jugson sat sprawled in conjured armchairs on the other side of her oak desk, their casual posture no doubt intended as an insult.
Together, the three people in this room represented the dominant factions of the Wizengamot.
"So, what will it cost us to make this thrice-cursed wand business go away?" Draco drawled. Outwardly, he looked perfectly at ease, but she knew him well enough to notice the slight twitch in his lip as he spoke. She had him on the ropes.
Jugson slammed a hand on the table. He'd never been one for complex negotiations, and his presence here was mainly a nod from Malfoy toward the arch-conservative traditionalists.
"Make it go away? This proposal should never have even come this far! Wands are for wizards, end of story. We've had, what, half a dozen wars over this? Wars which we won. And you want to throw that all away, Lady Granger? The lives of our forefathers? Well, my forefathers, anyway." The tirade over, he leaned back into his chair.
The snarky reference to the contrast between her title and her Muggle heritage didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't rise to the bait - she'd heard far worse before, and she would again. As far as anyone else was concerned, she'd earned that title, fair and square, the same way Harry had - by avenging the last surviving member of a Noble House. With Lucius Malfoy's faction in utter disarray after the sudden deaths of nearly all its members, there had been no meaningful resistance to Amelia Bones' bill to make House Granger one of the great Houses of magical Britain.
Her back straight, in contrast to Jugson's slouch, she responded. "Robert, change is coming, whether you like it or not. Have you read the opinion columns in the Prophet recently? Or checked the annual swing in the votes for Minister for Magic? The choice is yours. Will this happen with your cooperation, or will you wait for the pressure to build up enough for it to happen over the ruins of your House? Metaphorically, of course." She tilted her head to the side, and gave him a small half-smile. The phoenix perched behind her desk cawed as if to punctuate her words, and although Draco remained motionless, Jugson flinched back into his armchair.
Draco sat forward, his shoulder-length blonde-white hair cascading over his immaculate robes. "I'm confident we can come to a mutually beneficial resolution. For instance, my quantitative traders estimate that the windfall from integrating Goblin manufacturing techniques into our spell-foundries would almost quintuple our balance of international trade. And that is, as I understand it, on the table?" He looked questioningly at Hermione.
She sighed inwardly. So Draco was going to manage to look like the good guy, and find a way to multiply his House's already substantial wealth? Typical.
"The leaders of the Goblin councils assure me that once wand-lore is fully integrated into their society, then yes, the embargo on their manufacturing secrets will be lifted," she said.
Malfoy rose to his feet, resting his hand on his silvered cane, and smoothly pivoted toward Jugson. "Well then Robert, how's this for a middle ground. We're convinced that this is all going to fall apart, yes? Well, let's prove it."
Jugson narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
Draco continued. "Let's run the experiment. Let's say, ten goblin children volunteer to enter as first-year Hogwarts students, and learn to become witches and wizards as any first-year might. We can have a goblin expert teach a metalworking class too, why not. We're confident that releasing wand-lore will be catastrophic, and this is the perfect way to prove it without risking much at all. When things go south, it will sink the idea permanently."
Jugson paused, looking contemplative, then nodded. "I can work with that. You give goblin-children wands, and Hogwarts will be a smoking crater within the year. True nature always comes out. You and your goblin-blooded Headmaster Flitwick are going to find out why those wars were fought." With that, he rose from his chair, and stalked out the door.
Once it slammed shut behind him, Hermione breathed out and relaxed a little in her own seat - which was considerably more austere than the plush chairs Draco had conjured for himself and Jugson. "How long have you been planning that?"
Draco looked at his reflection in one the plaques dotting the wall of her office, and minutely adjusted his robes. "If you tell people things that confirm their biases, they'll breeze right past the rest of what you say. I'm sure you'll figure it out one day, Lady Granger." To anyone else, his sardonic drawl might have sounded dismissive, but she knew him well enough to see the affection in the slight wrinkles around his eyes. "Besides, I'm still far from convinced that this experiment of ours will give the results you anticipate."
Her small smile turned into a sigh as he left her office.
Leaning back into her chair, she stared at the ceiling. This was a start. Wizard society was still a broken mess, rife with inequality, and by virtually all metrics, goblins were still woefully underrepresented in every echelon of government and industry - not to mention the dozen other non-human sapient species. But with Flitwick at the helm of this new program, and close enough to take care of the first new students, there was a chance this could be the beginning of real change.
A silver-glowing hawk swept through the room, and settled on the corner of her desk.
That was strange. It was Flitwick's patronus, but he usually communicated via owl post, or visited by Floo if it was urgent.
His slightly-squeaky voice emerged from the small bird: "Lady Granger. Come at once. The trace has found a target."
The hair rose on the back of her neck.
The trace has found a target.
Hermione clapped her hands together above her head, and Nëna flapped forward. The pair of them vanished in a flash of flame. In their wake, the phoenix's call echoed through the halls of the Wizengamot.
Hermione stared at the golden arrow.
Unlike every other time she'd seen it, this time, rather than lazily rotating, it stayed perfectly fixed.
Almost as surprising was the direction.
It pointed out the window up into the empty sky.
She leant forward, and nudged the golden arrow to one side with a finger. It wobbled slightly, then returned to point in the same direction.
Moody and Scrimgeour stood by her side, and Flitwick was sitting behind the desk. Hermione had found a chair for Bones - at Amelia's age, standing for any length of time was uncomfortable. The other person who should have been here looked down at them kindly from the painting behind Flitwick's chair.
"So, someone managed to fake Potter's trace," Alastor growled. "If Minerva were still alive, I'd suspect her, given that she created the tracking charm to begin with. But she's not. Anyone know if someone's stolen her wand?"
Hermione shook her head. "I burnt her wand myself, at the funeral."
Bones' hands shook a little - her daily unicorn blood had been delayed by this unanticipated meeting. Still, her voice was firm. "There have been other imposters. This is what, the third?"
Scrimgeour nodded. "The metamorphmagus, at Durrich. And the con-woman who polyjuiced into the form of a Muggle Potter look-alike she'd disfigured with a facial scar. She was the one who tried to get into Gringotts."
Hermione pursed her lips. "This is different. Those times, the trace stayed inactive. But even if Harry is alive and the trace hasn't been dispelled, it still should have faded years ago…"
Flitwick hummed in thought. "Minerva's charms were always unusually potent, but twenty-eight years?" He tapped his fingers on the desk.
And then something bright rushed into the room. There was a sudden commotion as Alastor whirled and produced his wand, and Hermione automatically moved to stand between Amelia Bones and the intruder.
It was a patronus, in the form of a human - like hers. Hovering a foot off the ground, it ignored the others, and faced her. A voice emerged - Harry's voice, just as she remembered it.
"Hermione Granger," it said, and suddenly she was a first-year again, witnessing Harry break the rules of reality that seemed to bind everyone but him. She half expected to hear the sound of snapping fingers. "I'm back."
Zorian
Fortunately for all of them, it seemed that Earth-wizards excelled in certain fields of magic. The dimensional boundaries of each of the curious bags they'd found in Diagon Alley were cleaner than Zorian could have made them, and could be successfully placed inside one another without causing issues. In the end, literally hundreds of tonnes of material was nested inside a single suitcase, which was firmly affixed to the rear side of the Inconceivable.
Next to it was the air supply. Rain had found the device inside a non-magical foundry which developed breathing apparatuses for undersea vessels.
There was no bathroom. In such a small space with so many other people, Zorian appreciated Rain's Purify aura more than ever.
Even so, there was little to no privacy inside the main body of the spherical vessel. To get some time alone, you had to duck inside one of the other expanded spaces - they'd set up a bag which connected to a room-sized tent, for sleeping, and a suitcase which linked to a cellar-sized space for general use.
Rain stayed awake almost all the time, constantly running in place to push their vessel onwards with his odd magical skills. Since there was no resistance to overcome in the void, he was accelerating them at what he said was more than ten times a typical planet's gravity.
Measuring acceleration in terms of gravity was initially a novel concept to Zorian, but one that made sense, when he thought about it. When a train accelerated in Cyoria, the direction objects 'fell' seemed to shift - what was this, if not the same thing on a larger scale?
Something that took longer for him to get his head around - and equally puzzled the other members of their motley ensemble - was that apparently every one of their worlds had very similar levels of gravity to begin with.
Discussing this had led Harry to raise another topic Zorian hadn't given much thought to thus far: why were there humans on all these different worlds? Some consultation with Galvachren's guide indicated that their four worlds were far from the only ones that humans made their home. Harry's next comments about 'gene-seeding' and 'Star-Trek' were initially puzzling, but Rain was fascinated enough that Zorian had made a mental note to research the topic further when he got a chance.
In any case, apparently, their acceleration would usually be lethal, and it kept them thinking of the rear of the vessel as 'down' almost all the time, in a stuttering imitation of planetary gravity. This had the amusing effect of making it seem like Rain was running straight up at the ceiling. Thankfully, Force Ward was more than capable of preventing anyone from coming to harm, and its cushioning resisted enough of the phantom force that moving around was only slightly more effort than usual.
Alustin spent most of his time looking out the crystal port-holes. Zorian couldn't see much - there was a single bright point of light in their direction of travel, but apart from that, he could only see a smattering of stars.
Alustin's 'far-sight' affinity gave him some kind of innate control over light and the information it carried, which was especially well suited to making out images at a distance. Correspondingly, he was endlessly fascinated by the telescopes Rain had scavenged on the reflected Earth. Combining his affinity with the precision-tooled devices, he was serving as their guide. Within a day or so, they'd passed the orbit of the planet Harry and Rain called Neptune, and were making decent progress toward the inner planets.
For Zorian, this was a welcome break. Although he appreciated the work his simulacra could do, and on some level liked their company, he'd been maintaining a full complement of them ever since the Splinter - so it was a refreshing change to be alone in his mind. He spent a lot of time with Zach - the little snake adapted surprisingly well to the stuttering 'gravity', and could coil himself around the internal struts of their vessel to make his own way throughout the ship.
Some time to get to know the others was also welcome. Even without much equipment, Artur was an excellent chef, and kept them well fed, even as the fresher food ran out.
Despite the monotony of their mode of travel, there was rarely a dull moment on board the Inconceivable. Alustin and Godrick were often at odds, and discussions about the ethics of nation-state politics drew in almost everyone, and frequently got fiery enough that Zorian quietly bowed out.
Not long after their journey started, Harry received a return message from his contact on Earth, also via patronus. They were directed to land on the quidditch pitch, outside Hogwarts - a location all of them knew well, despite never having visited the original.
Rain distracted himself by digging through the libraries he'd internalised, and telling them about the tricks and stories he discovered. It was rare for anything to be both new to Zorian, and to be compatible with his spellcasting style, but when it was, it was a pleasant surprise. He didn't try out any of them immediately, though - by collective agreement, they'd all decided to put off any magical experimentation until they were no longer in a pressurised space-vessel.
On the whole, the experience reminded Zorian of the months he'd spent with Zach (the human, not the snake) in the time-distorting Black Rooms beneath Cyoria, just with slightly more privacy, more company, and better food.
Harry, for his part, spent most of his time sending patronuses back and forth. There was a considerable delay between when he sent them and when they returned, and he spent the rest of the time resting quietly, his head against a cushion, looking out into the star-dotted void.
Hugh must have noticed Harry's mood at some point, because after a while, he moved to be by Harry's side, and they practised some basic crystal-spellforms together.
The hours blended into days. In time, the sun grew brighter and brighter, and they needed to cover the sunward-facing crystal port-holes to avoid being blinded. Eventually, with everyone crowded around the windows, they found themselves in an orbit around Earth.
Descending was an odd process. Rain decelerated their vessel until their orbit roughly matched the rotational speeds of the green-blue planet below, then decelerated even further, letting them skim through the upper atmosphere repeatedly to shed some velocity. He'd apparently had to spend a lot of time 'inside his soul' to finalise the calculations necessary to pull that off. Fortunately, at that point, they were low enough that the GPS devices began to function again.
For the final part of the descent, everyone except Rain (the engine) and Alustin (the navigator) stayed hidden in a pocket dimension anchored to a mid-sized bag Rain was wearing. The idea was that if their vessel tore apart on re-entry, Rain could protect himself with Force and Heat Ward, and carry them to the ground to release them there.
In the end, it didn't come to that. The Inconceivable held fast, and the final descent was slow and controlled.
One by one, they piled out of the pocket dimension, and stretched, relishing the feeling of Earth's usual gravity rather than the intermittent false gravity they'd been tolerating for the past few days. Zorian conjured three simulacra, and once everyone was ready, Godrick deformed the steel wall of the Inconceivable into a series of steps, leading outside.
The quidditch pitch was almost empty. About fifty metres away from where they'd landed stood a pair of figures, clearly awaiting their arrival.
On the left was an old man, slightly hunched at the shoulder, but still somehow giving the impression of extraordinary physical strength. One of his eyes was bizarrely larger than usual, and was rotating freely in its socket. Zorian recognised his clothing from their visit to the Clyde naval base - a bullet-proof vest, and some simple, unadorned body armour. He held a wand in his left hand, loosely pointed in their direction.
On the right was a woman who seemed to almost glow in the dim light of dawn. It was hard to tell her age - somewhere between twenty and thirty - and tall, not Artur's height, but six feet at least. She wore no armour, only loose-fitting robes. On her shoulder was a bright-burning phoenix, the golden mirror of the crimson-black one they'd fought in the labyrinth. It called out to them, sounding triumphant and almost song-like, tugging at Zorian's emotions through his mind-shield in a way that should have been impossible.
"You want to go first?" Godrick asked Harry, and gestured at the stairs.
Despite Harry's mind-shield, his nervousness was clearly visible in his face. Still, he squared his shoulders, and stepped down Godrick's stairs onto the dewey grass of Earth. The rest of them followed behind him as the twelve-year old boy walked forward to greet the friends he hadn't seen in thirty years.
Hermione ran up the ladder as if it were horizontal, a pair of pastries in one hand, and a jug of tomato juice and two cups in the other.
It wasn't just that she was alive again, after what she was told was two months of being dead. To her, of course, it had only felt like moments.
It wasn't just that her limbs were imbued with strength and finesse that until now had been solely within the realm of magical creatures. Whatever Harry and Quirrell had done when they'd brought her back, she felt like she could punch through walls - although maybe not Hogwarts walls, they seemed to be made of sterner stuff.
For the first time in a while, Hermione felt good. Really good.
"Alright Harry, that's breakfast sorted." Gosh, even her voice was lighter and more melodic than it had been. "And I've had some time to think. I'd like the details on the quest now, before I make any final decisions, of course -"
She stopped.
The stone terrace was empty.
"Harry?"
No response.
She paused to put down the breakfast, and turned to jog back down the ladder.
After checking the library and the Ravenclaw dormitory, she was on her way to the Headmistress' office when she passed a hurried-looking McGonagall in the hall.
"Professor, Harry's missing. You don't know where he is, do you?"
McGonnagall shot her a puzzled glance. Hermione's heart-rate rose in response.
"Professor Trelawney fell unconscious a few minutes ago, during the middle of a lesson. I was just alerted by one of her students."
A minute later, she and McGonagall were bent over a scrawled map of Hogwarts, which seemed to show the location and movements of each person on the grounds.
Harry's name was nowhere to be found.
Ten minutes later, they'd marshalled the forces which could answer their call within this short timespan. Professor Flitwick, and three strangers who didn't stop to introduce themselves were crowded onto the terrace - the last place anyone had seen Harry Potter. Quietly, McGonagall whispered their names in her ear as they arrived: Amelia Bones, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Rufus Scrimgeour, acting Head of Magical Law Enforcement. And Alastor Moody.
All three strangers looked like they were ready to kill someone.
"It's Bellatrix Black," Moody growled. "Or another surviving Death Eater, if there are any. They couldn't have killed him, the wards would have triggered."
McGonagall nodded. "There wasn't time to trick the wards like with the blood-cooling charm the Dark Lord laid on Malfoy. Ms Granger says she saw Mister Potter less than fifteen minutes ago."
Amelia Bones, a grizzled old witch with an air of authority, cut through the air with a hand. "As soon as the past version of Granger has left the terrace, we go back and take Potter somewhere safe. Like one of the dungeons."
Moody shook his head, and his false eye span wildly with the movement. "Negative. We need information on who did this, or it will happen again. This is the only chance we've got to respond before they know we're after them."
Hermione drew in a sharp breath, but McGonagall spoke first: "We will not use a Hogwarts student as bait." After a moment, she continued. "Besides, we can't just take him to the dungeons. We need to get him off the grounds. I checked the map."
Moody gave Hermione a sidelong look, then turned his head toward Professor McGonagall. "Listen Minerva. We'll all be there, invisible, and we'll have time to secure the area tighter than Gringotts. Thanks to the Hogwarts wards, we have a pretty good idea that he wasn't killed here outright, so the worst that can happen is an abduction followed by a murder happening elsewhere. With the grounds warded against apparition, and the Portkey-wards we can set up, even if the attackers incapacitate Potter, they'd have to find another way to to leave the grounds in a hurry. Besides, with the security system," he gestured toward the map on the table, "no-one will be able to approach without us knowing they're coming. It would be difficult to set up a better ambush if we tried."
Amelia nodded, and produced an ornate hourglass from her robes. Following her lead, Moody, Flitwick and Scrimgeour did the same. McGonagall moved toward the ladder, but Hermione stopped her, and pulled out the hourglass-device Harry had given her that morning. McGonagall took it, and draped the chain around her own neck.
"I'm sorry, Ms Granger," she said, her voice apologetic. "One student in danger is already far too many."
Hermione's eyes flickered across the terrace, and settled on one of the heavy-looking oaken chairs in the office below. She leapt down to it, and lifted it up the ladder, holding it effortlessly by one of the wooden legs. The wood was already splintering under her grasp.
Ten seconds later, the adults were staring at her, and the whole chair was crushed into a small ball of splinters.
"Alright," Moody grunted, clearly accepting her eloquent argument. "But stay out of the way."
McGonagall nodded, and draped the hourglass-chain over Hermione's neck as well.
"Disillusion yourselves now," Bones said, her jaw set. "And go back four hours. Flitwick, you verify the integrity of Hogwarts' anti-apparition wards, and set up your own while you're at it - can't be too careful. I'll take care of the anti-Portkey wards. Moody, once we've arrived, ward the area against further time travel - we don't want the enemy to arrive from the future once we're there, or to arrive some other way and escape with Potter further into the past. McGonagall, cast an enduring trace charm on Potter - I presume you can do that silently? Good. If he is somehow taken, we want to be able to follow. Then, keep an eye on the Hogwarts security system, and raise the alarm if there are any unexpected visitors. Scrimgeour, set up one of your hex fields. Granger, crush anything that appears threatening. After the altercation, we reveal ourselves, and move Harry below ground before past-Granger returns from getting breakfast. Understood?"
"Er, Madam Bones?" Hermione managed to speak without her voice squeaking, she wasn't sure how. "Harry cast a Homenum Revelio earlier, and it revealed nothing."
Bones pinched the bridge of her nose.
Flitwick gestured with his wand. "There is a variant on the standard disillusionment which should avoid detection by basic spells of that general nature." His wand-hand twitched in a circular motion, and the six of them faded out of sight. Oddly, Hermione found that if she concentrated, she could still see her own hands - it seemed the invisibility was somehow selective.
Bones' voice came out of empty air. "Four hours back, on my mark. Now."
She felt Professor McGonagall's hand touch the hourglass, and a moment later, the world around her twisted, and she was in the past.
-]l[-
Three hours of silent preparations later, past-Hermione arrived on the terrace to join past-Harry.
Watching yourself from the outside was strange, especially when your body was nothing like you remembered.
Listening in on her conversation with Harry was also strange, and despite the intensity of the situation, she felt vaguely embarrassed that there were so many others here to hear it too - even if they were silent and invisible.
And then past-Hermione left, walking down the ladder to fetch breakfast for both of them. Harry remained, sitting cross-legged on the cushion.
Hermione tensed. No-one had moved yet, but the time must be drawing near. Past Hermione would be back any moment now, and Harry would be gone - but how? Nothing had moved. No kidnappers had shown themselves. Harry sat still, breathing calmly in the morning air.
And then, with no notice or obvious cause whatsoever, Harry was gone. She dove forwards, but her hands grasped at empty air.
-]l[-
Hours later, Hermione watched as Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick completed the enchantments on the golden arrow.
If the device worked as intended, no matter the distance, the arrow should point in the direction of Harry, following the trace McGonagall had invisibly placed on him on the terrace. There would be nowhere for Voldemort's servants to hide.
As Flitwick finished with a flourish of his wand, the arrow rose to float ten centimetres above a silver plate. Hermione watched intently, but the arrow rotated freely in place, clearly unable to find a signal.
The Headmistress turned to her with a pained expression. "I'm sorry, Ms Granger. Harry Potter is beyond our power to reach."
They left the arrow on the Headmistress' desk, one more bizarre artefact to mystify any Hogwarts student who tried to discern its purpose.
-]l[-
A month later, Hermione's scouring of the restricted section bore fruit. A sacrificial ritual, created in more brutal times, which consumed the blood of an individual to track down their kin. In the recesses of Diagon Alley, she'd finally located a wizened old witch to teach it to her, as required by the Interdict of Merlin.
Petunia Evans-Verres, Harry's aunt by blood and mother by choice, said she was willing, and had overruled her husband's objections. She stood by Hermione's side in the Headmistress' office, and watched as blood slowly flowed into a bowl from a small cut in her arm.
Minerva stood by, her wand trained on the ritual-bowl, ready to eject it out the open window at the first hint of the ritual going wrong - they were using the second degree of caution because no one there was familiar with the spell. She was coughing intermittently, a rough, hacking noise, but Hermione ignored it. The ritual needed to be performed perfectly, the first time - Petunia might not have enough blood remaining for an immediate second attempt, and Hermione couldn't afford to wait.
After a long moment of silence, the Muggle globe resting on the desk lit up with half a dozen brilliant points of crimson light - the locations of the closest living relatives of the one who had given blood.
Three days later, although they had found a long-lost cousin of Petunia's, Harry Potter remained missing.
-]l[-
Three months passed. Hermione narrowly dodged a jet of red light, and physically punched through Moody's conjured shield. The bones in her left hand fractured in the process, but she was used to the pain, and her bones were already reforming.
Moody directed his wand toward the floor, and suddenly she was slipping, as if she was running on ice. She rolled with the motion, and dug her nails into the stone tiles to get some traction. She slashed with her wand, and simultaneously kicked out with her legs.
Moody fell, for the first time. After so many failed attempts, the sound of the air leaving his lungs as he hit the floor sounded good. Like victory.
She offered him a hand, and he took it, slowly getting up.
"You've made your point. Pull your punches next time" he said, rubbing his side where she'd kicked him. "I've never seen someone move like that. You sure you can't tell us what made you like this?"
She ran her fingers through her hair. "Harry will tell you when we find him. So, can I join the Order?"
He sighed, and lowered himself onto a chair. "Listen, girl. The Order of the Phoenix existed to fight dark wizards. Outside of Bellatrix Black, who no-one has heard from in months, there's just… no-one left to fight."
"Alright," she nodded. "What are the last known whereabouts of Bellatrix Black?"
-]l[-
Seven months later, Hermione tracked down Bellatrix Black, the primary living suspect for Harry's disappearance and forced a whole vial of Veritaserum down her throat.
She asked about Harry.
Bellatrix knew nothing.
That night, she accepted what the rest of the world had accepted long ago - that Harry had been struck down by some final curse, left by Voldemort to destroy those who had thwarted him.
She opened the letter Harry had left behind, and at the top of one of the Hogwarts towers, she cast the true form of the Patronus charm for the first time.
The next day, the Daily Prophet would report that every Dementor in Azkaban had been destroyed by a great cleansing light. The Ministry was forced to move the remaining prisoners to a lower-security prison. No-one had seen the perpetrator, and hushed voices spoke of Harry Potter.
In unrelated news, on page seven, the Prophet reported that a previously unknown phoenix was seen on Hermione Granger's shoulder.
-]l[-
A year later, with Bones' guidance, Hermione's first motion in the Wizengamot passed - a treaty to improve medical collaboration with neighbouring magical countries. The next day, she passed her Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, which, as the only scion of a Noble House, made her a legal adult at the age of fourteen.
-]l[-
Three years later, after Hermione waited days for Ministry approval, several C-4 explosive charges shattered the side of a dingy looking building in southern Wales. She moved quickly, disabling three of the wizards inside with stunning hexes. The remaining witch blasted off Hermione's arm with an artillery curse, but it grew back almost immediately, and she barely slowed down. There were no casualties.
Images of the tortured Muggle family inside were widely distributed in the Daily Prophet. In response, more stringent legislation was passed to ensure the safety of Muggles, and sanctions were placed on countries that failed to do the same. With a glowing endorsement from the usually grim Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, and the political support of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Amelia Bones, Hermione Granger was appointed the youngest ever Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
-]l[-
The next year, Amelia Bones' health began to seriously deteriorate. Without even a regent for the Line of Merlin Unbroken, Ministry officials estimated that a full third of the permanent enchantments in magical Britain would fail or otherwise go awry.
After some testing, it was determined that Hermione's blood was similar enough to that of a unicorn to share its restorative effects. Madam Bones lived on. Although she mentioned it to no-one, Hermione was wracked by guilt that she was only able to give enough blood to sustain a single person. Nëna comforted her, and only while listening to the phoenix's song was she finally able to rest.
-]l[-
Five years later, in part as a result of the growing popularity of the Girl who Revived, and in part the result of a mass media campaign by the Malfoy-controlled Daily Prophet, a motion was passed to eliminate slavery in magical Britain.
-]l[-
Two years later, Minerva point-blank refused to accept Hermione's blood. Madam Bones was more important, she said.
Hermione gave the eulogy.
-]l[-
Fifteen years later, as Hermione had learned to expect, negotiations with the purists of the Wizengamot were achingly slow.
Lord Draco Malfoy and Lord Robert Jugson sat sprawled in conjured armchairs on the other side of her oak desk, their casual posture no doubt intended as an insult.
Together, the three people in this room represented the dominant factions of the Wizengamot.
"So, what will it cost us to make this thrice-cursed wand business go away?" Draco drawled. Outwardly, he looked perfectly at ease, but she knew him well enough to notice the slight twitch in his lip as he spoke. She had him on the ropes.
Jugson slammed a hand on the table. He'd never been one for complex negotiations, and his presence here was mainly a nod from Malfoy toward the arch-conservative traditionalists.
"Make it go away? This proposal should never have even come this far! Wands are for wizards, end of story. We've had, what, half a dozen wars over this? Wars which we won. And you want to throw that all away, Lady Granger? The lives of our forefathers? Well, my forefathers, anyway." The tirade over, he leaned back into his chair.
The snarky reference to the contrast between her title and her Muggle heritage didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't rise to the bait - she'd heard far worse before, and she would again. As far as anyone else was concerned, she'd earned that title, fair and square, the same way Harry had - by avenging the last surviving member of a Noble House. With Lucius Malfoy's faction in utter disarray after the sudden deaths of nearly all its members, there had been no meaningful resistance to Amelia Bones' bill to make House Granger one of the great Houses of magical Britain.
Her back straight, in contrast to Jugson's slouch, she responded. "Robert, change is coming, whether you like it or not. Have you read the opinion columns in the Prophet recently? Or checked the annual swing in the votes for Minister for Magic? The choice is yours. Will this happen with your cooperation, or will you wait for the pressure to build up enough for it to happen over the ruins of your House? Metaphorically, of course." She tilted her head to the side, and gave him a small half-smile. The phoenix perched behind her desk cawed as if to punctuate her words, and although Draco remained motionless, Jugson flinched back into his armchair.
Draco sat forward, his shoulder-length blonde-white hair cascading over his immaculate robes. "I'm confident we can come to a mutually beneficial resolution. For instance, my quantitative traders estimate that the windfall from integrating Goblin manufacturing techniques into our spell-foundries would almost quintuple our balance of international trade. And that is, as I understand it, on the table?" He looked questioningly at Hermione.
She sighed inwardly. So Draco was going to manage to look like the good guy, and find a way to multiply his House's already substantial wealth? Typical.
"The leaders of the Goblin councils assure me that once wand-lore is fully integrated into their society, then yes, the embargo on their manufacturing secrets will be lifted," she said.
Malfoy rose to his feet, resting his hand on his silvered cane, and smoothly pivoted toward Jugson. "Well then Robert, how's this for a middle ground. We're convinced that this is all going to fall apart, yes? Well, let's prove it."
Jugson narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
Draco continued. "Let's run the experiment. Let's say, ten goblin children volunteer to enter as first-year Hogwarts students, and learn to become witches and wizards as any first-year might. We can have a goblin expert teach a metalworking class too, why not. We're confident that releasing wand-lore will be catastrophic, and this is the perfect way to prove it without risking much at all. When things go south, it will sink the idea permanently."
Jugson paused, looking contemplative, then nodded. "I can work with that. You give goblin-children wands, and Hogwarts will be a smoking crater within the year. True nature always comes out. You and your goblin-blooded Headmaster Flitwick are going to find out why those wars were fought." With that, he rose from his chair, and stalked out the door.
Once it slammed shut behind him, Hermione breathed out and relaxed a little in her own seat - which was considerably more austere than the plush chairs Draco had conjured for himself and Jugson. "How long have you been planning that?"
Draco looked at his reflection in one the plaques dotting the wall of her office, and minutely adjusted his robes. "If you tell people things that confirm their biases, they'll breeze right past the rest of what you say. I'm sure you'll figure it out one day, Lady Granger." To anyone else, his sardonic drawl might have sounded dismissive, but she knew him well enough to see the affection in the slight wrinkles around his eyes. "Besides, I'm still far from convinced that this experiment of ours will give the results you anticipate."
Her small smile turned into a sigh as he left her office.
Leaning back into her chair, she stared at the ceiling. This was a start. Wizard society was still a broken mess, rife with inequality, and by virtually all metrics, goblins were still woefully underrepresented in every echelon of government and industry - not to mention the dozen other non-human sapient species. But with Flitwick at the helm of this new program, and close enough to take care of the first new students, there was a chance this could be the beginning of real change.
A silver-glowing hawk swept through the room, and settled on the corner of her desk.
That was strange. It was Flitwick's patronus, but he usually communicated via owl post, or visited by Floo if it was urgent.
His slightly-squeaky voice emerged from the small bird: "Lady Granger. Come at once. The trace has found a target."
The hair rose on the back of her neck.
The trace has found a target.
Hermione clapped her hands together above her head, and Nëna flapped forward. The pair of them vanished in a flash of flame. In their wake, the phoenix's call echoed through the halls of the Wizengamot.
-]l[-
Hermione stared at the golden arrow.
Unlike every other time she'd seen it, this time, rather than lazily rotating, it stayed perfectly fixed.
Almost as surprising was the direction.
It pointed out the window up into the empty sky.
She leant forward, and nudged the golden arrow to one side with a finger. It wobbled slightly, then returned to point in the same direction.
Moody and Scrimgeour stood by her side, and Flitwick was sitting behind the desk. Hermione had found a chair for Bones - at Amelia's age, standing for any length of time was uncomfortable. The other person who should have been here looked down at them kindly from the painting behind Flitwick's chair.
"So, someone managed to fake Potter's trace," Alastor growled. "If Minerva were still alive, I'd suspect her, given that she created the tracking charm to begin with. But she's not. Anyone know if someone's stolen her wand?"
Hermione shook her head. "I burnt her wand myself, at the funeral."
Bones' hands shook a little - her daily unicorn blood had been delayed by this unanticipated meeting. Still, her voice was firm. "There have been other imposters. This is what, the third?"
Scrimgeour nodded. "The metamorphmagus, at Durrich. And the con-woman who polyjuiced into the form of a Muggle Potter look-alike she'd disfigured with a facial scar. She was the one who tried to get into Gringotts."
Hermione pursed her lips. "This is different. Those times, the trace stayed inactive. But even if Harry is alive and the trace hasn't been dispelled, it still should have faded years ago…"
Flitwick hummed in thought. "Minerva's charms were always unusually potent, but twenty-eight years?" He tapped his fingers on the desk.
And then something bright rushed into the room. There was a sudden commotion as Alastor whirled and produced his wand, and Hermione automatically moved to stand between Amelia Bones and the intruder.
It was a patronus, in the form of a human - like hers. Hovering a foot off the ground, it ignored the others, and faced her. A voice emerged - Harry's voice, just as she remembered it.
"Hermione Granger," it said, and suddenly she was a first-year again, witnessing Harry break the rules of reality that seemed to bind everyone but him. She half expected to hear the sound of snapping fingers. "I'm back."
Zorian
Fortunately for all of them, it seemed that Earth-wizards excelled in certain fields of magic. The dimensional boundaries of each of the curious bags they'd found in Diagon Alley were cleaner than Zorian could have made them, and could be successfully placed inside one another without causing issues. In the end, literally hundreds of tonnes of material was nested inside a single suitcase, which was firmly affixed to the rear side of the Inconceivable.
Next to it was the air supply. Rain had found the device inside a non-magical foundry which developed breathing apparatuses for undersea vessels.
There was no bathroom. In such a small space with so many other people, Zorian appreciated Rain's Purify aura more than ever.
Even so, there was little to no privacy inside the main body of the spherical vessel. To get some time alone, you had to duck inside one of the other expanded spaces - they'd set up a bag which connected to a room-sized tent, for sleeping, and a suitcase which linked to a cellar-sized space for general use.
Rain stayed awake almost all the time, constantly running in place to push their vessel onwards with his odd magical skills. Since there was no resistance to overcome in the void, he was accelerating them at what he said was more than ten times a typical planet's gravity.
Measuring acceleration in terms of gravity was initially a novel concept to Zorian, but one that made sense, when he thought about it. When a train accelerated in Cyoria, the direction objects 'fell' seemed to shift - what was this, if not the same thing on a larger scale?
Something that took longer for him to get his head around - and equally puzzled the other members of their motley ensemble - was that apparently every one of their worlds had very similar levels of gravity to begin with.
Discussing this had led Harry to raise another topic Zorian hadn't given much thought to thus far: why were there humans on all these different worlds? Some consultation with Galvachren's guide indicated that their four worlds were far from the only ones that humans made their home. Harry's next comments about 'gene-seeding' and 'Star-Trek' were initially puzzling, but Rain was fascinated enough that Zorian had made a mental note to research the topic further when he got a chance.
In any case, apparently, their acceleration would usually be lethal, and it kept them thinking of the rear of the vessel as 'down' almost all the time, in a stuttering imitation of planetary gravity. This had the amusing effect of making it seem like Rain was running straight up at the ceiling. Thankfully, Force Ward was more than capable of preventing anyone from coming to harm, and its cushioning resisted enough of the phantom force that moving around was only slightly more effort than usual.
Alustin spent most of his time looking out the crystal port-holes. Zorian couldn't see much - there was a single bright point of light in their direction of travel, but apart from that, he could only see a smattering of stars.
Alustin's 'far-sight' affinity gave him some kind of innate control over light and the information it carried, which was especially well suited to making out images at a distance. Correspondingly, he was endlessly fascinated by the telescopes Rain had scavenged on the reflected Earth. Combining his affinity with the precision-tooled devices, he was serving as their guide. Within a day or so, they'd passed the orbit of the planet Harry and Rain called Neptune, and were making decent progress toward the inner planets.
For Zorian, this was a welcome break. Although he appreciated the work his simulacra could do, and on some level liked their company, he'd been maintaining a full complement of them ever since the Splinter - so it was a refreshing change to be alone in his mind. He spent a lot of time with Zach - the little snake adapted surprisingly well to the stuttering 'gravity', and could coil himself around the internal struts of their vessel to make his own way throughout the ship.
Some time to get to know the others was also welcome. Even without much equipment, Artur was an excellent chef, and kept them well fed, even as the fresher food ran out.
Despite the monotony of their mode of travel, there was rarely a dull moment on board the Inconceivable. Alustin and Godrick were often at odds, and discussions about the ethics of nation-state politics drew in almost everyone, and frequently got fiery enough that Zorian quietly bowed out.
Not long after their journey started, Harry received a return message from his contact on Earth, also via patronus. They were directed to land on the quidditch pitch, outside Hogwarts - a location all of them knew well, despite never having visited the original.
Rain distracted himself by digging through the libraries he'd internalised, and telling them about the tricks and stories he discovered. It was rare for anything to be both new to Zorian, and to be compatible with his spellcasting style, but when it was, it was a pleasant surprise. He didn't try out any of them immediately, though - by collective agreement, they'd all decided to put off any magical experimentation until they were no longer in a pressurised space-vessel.
On the whole, the experience reminded Zorian of the months he'd spent with Zach (the human, not the snake) in the time-distorting Black Rooms beneath Cyoria, just with slightly more privacy, more company, and better food.
Harry, for his part, spent most of his time sending patronuses back and forth. There was a considerable delay between when he sent them and when they returned, and he spent the rest of the time resting quietly, his head against a cushion, looking out into the star-dotted void.
Hugh must have noticed Harry's mood at some point, because after a while, he moved to be by Harry's side, and they practised some basic crystal-spellforms together.
The hours blended into days. In time, the sun grew brighter and brighter, and they needed to cover the sunward-facing crystal port-holes to avoid being blinded. Eventually, with everyone crowded around the windows, they found themselves in an orbit around Earth.
Descending was an odd process. Rain decelerated their vessel until their orbit roughly matched the rotational speeds of the green-blue planet below, then decelerated even further, letting them skim through the upper atmosphere repeatedly to shed some velocity. He'd apparently had to spend a lot of time 'inside his soul' to finalise the calculations necessary to pull that off. Fortunately, at that point, they were low enough that the GPS devices began to function again.
For the final part of the descent, everyone except Rain (the engine) and Alustin (the navigator) stayed hidden in a pocket dimension anchored to a mid-sized bag Rain was wearing. The idea was that if their vessel tore apart on re-entry, Rain could protect himself with Force and Heat Ward, and carry them to the ground to release them there.
In the end, it didn't come to that. The Inconceivable held fast, and the final descent was slow and controlled.
One by one, they piled out of the pocket dimension, and stretched, relishing the feeling of Earth's usual gravity rather than the intermittent false gravity they'd been tolerating for the past few days. Zorian conjured three simulacra, and once everyone was ready, Godrick deformed the steel wall of the Inconceivable into a series of steps, leading outside.
The quidditch pitch was almost empty. About fifty metres away from where they'd landed stood a pair of figures, clearly awaiting their arrival.
On the left was an old man, slightly hunched at the shoulder, but still somehow giving the impression of extraordinary physical strength. One of his eyes was bizarrely larger than usual, and was rotating freely in its socket. Zorian recognised his clothing from their visit to the Clyde naval base - a bullet-proof vest, and some simple, unadorned body armour. He held a wand in his left hand, loosely pointed in their direction.
On the right was a woman who seemed to almost glow in the dim light of dawn. It was hard to tell her age - somewhere between twenty and thirty - and tall, not Artur's height, but six feet at least. She wore no armour, only loose-fitting robes. On her shoulder was a bright-burning phoenix, the golden mirror of the crimson-black one they'd fought in the labyrinth. It called out to them, sounding triumphant and almost song-like, tugging at Zorian's emotions through his mind-shield in a way that should have been impossible.
"You want to go first?" Godrick asked Harry, and gestured at the stairs.
Despite Harry's mind-shield, his nervousness was clearly visible in his face. Still, he squared his shoulders, and stepped down Godrick's stairs onto the dewey grass of Earth. The rest of them followed behind him as the twelve-year old boy walked forward to greet the friends he hadn't seen in thirty years.
This is my first ever fanfic Constructive criticism welcome.
Many thanks to Berix (who is writing a new major Delve fanfic on Ao3 here - which I highly recommend if you like Delve) and my other co-writers for assisting with this chapter. Berix is also posting a mirror of this story on Sufficient Velocity here, in case you prefer forum-style discussion.
Many thanks also to Kyreneryk from the Sufficient Velocity forum. Their work, Fivefold Integration heavily inspired this story, and they've also given me a lot of useful feedback.
(Berix Note: this note appears on the most recent chapter. I might either include it with every chapter release here, or if I remember to, edit it out of the previous one. We'll see.)
Constructive criticism welcome.Many thanks to Berix (who is writing a new major Delve fanfic on Ao3 here - which I highly recommend if you like Delve) and my other co-writers for assisting with this chapter. Berix is also posting a mirror of this story on Sufficient Velocity here, in case you prefer forum-style discussion.
Many thanks also to Kyreneryk from the Sufficient Velocity forum. Their work, Fivefold Integration heavily inspired this story, and they've also given me a lot of useful feedback.
(Berix Note: this note appears on the most recent chapter. I might either include it with every chapter release here, or if I remember to, edit it out of the previous one. We'll see.)
- Location
- Somewhere, Out There
Was there mention of dealing with the co2 levels in the vessel i cant remember? Its not just a source of normal atmo oxygen you gotta worry about lol Not that it really matters i was just curious. Looking forward to the reunion and them reacting to harry coming in from reentry XD
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'Next to it was the air supply. Rain had found the device inside a non-magical foundry which developed breathing apparatuses for undersea vessels.'
So they're using the same procedure as a submarine (which is also used for some Earth-spaceships). They're supplying oxygen with pressurised tanks, and scrubbing excess CO2 with a chemical process like bubbling the air through soda lime: How Are People Able to Breathe Inside a Submarine?
They arrived next to it and velocity matched with it, with the probe outside the Inconceivable. They didn't bring it with them, no - that would have required some complicated docking or joining procedure, and they didn't have a real reason to do it.
Berix
Toa of Twilight
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
woulda been funny though
Harry: "Hi Hermione! Sorry it's been a while!"
Hermione: "Why did you bring a satellite with you?"
Harry: "It looked lonely out there...?"
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- Location
- Israel
If they were just using an oxygen candle, then yea it's a problem. But modern systems come with the ability to scrub CO2 using special cartidge filters. Submersibles use the "eject and replace" method though.
My thought was mainly that if there's ever going to be any plan to destroy all the horcruxes - or if it would be useful to have it available to study - there was never gonna be a better opportunity to get it, though I suppose they could just make another portal to it once they're on the real Earth.