Interlude: To Gain the World
x
Supertoys Last All Summer Long (General Contact Unit, Mountain Class)
o Sophist (Limited Systems Vehicle, Blue Class)
o Mistake Not… (Unit, no class, Eccentric)
o pǝʇuǝıɹo ʎlɹǝdoɹd (General Contact Unit, Desert Class)
o Splendid Blond Beast (General Offensive Unit, Psychopath Class)
Hogwarts has been indefinitely closed until pest control can confirm that all giant student-killing monsters have been rooted out. Lucius Malfoy is maneuvering to remove Dumbledore from his position as Headmaster. There are rumors that Dumbledore has lost the support of the Longbottom family in the Wizengamet after their heir was murdered right under Dumbledore's nose.
Even as we speak, Snape, Quirrell, and half a dozen other suspects are enjoying the tender care of Legilimencers, while being liberally doused in Veritaserum and checked over by the best and finest ministry Aurors.
And I have just received the full mind-state recording of Neville Longbottom in one of my computational substrate nodes, courtesy of the neural lace incubator Harry gave him. What wizards call his soul re-attached to his recording, meaning that we can safely sleeve him in a new body without any loss of magical power. The neural lace's recordings show that he really was killed by the Basilisk, with no hint of who commanded the creature.
Thoughts? I'd encourage you to speak informally, but…
∞
x
Mistake Not… (Unit, no class, Eccentric)
Things are going well in Japan. No magical terrorists, a functional bureaucracy, and we have the ear of the heir to the Chrysanthemum throne. We should teach Harry Japanese and send him to Kamo Shrine.
He's also been watching a lot of Dragon-Ball and Sailor Moon, so he'll already be familiar with authentic Japanese magical culture.
∞
x
Sophist (Limited Systems Vehicle, Blue Class)
Let's start our own wizard school with accredited educational professionals and protective wards that don't contain exceptions for giant murderous monsters.
Instead of dividing the children into 'Bullies', 'Nerds', 'Racists', and 'Losers', all children will be allowed to blossom into unique individuals unconstrained by cultural assumptions regarding what house they are in. We'll give all the muggle-borns and half-bloods nightly blood infusions so all our students will be pure-blooded and equal. There will be a class that teaches ethics and how to use magic in a morally responsible manner. Everyone will immerse themselves in the pure joy of learning. It will be simply wonderful.
∞
x
Mistake Not… (Unit, no class, Eccentric)
And we'll give every student two wands, so they're twice as good as the Hogwarts students. And absolutely everything will be made out of gold, to insure that our school is extremely magically powerful. They'll sleep in solid gold coffins, eat gold-leaf plated hamburgers, drink gold-infused drinks, everything, and they'll learn to like it.
∞
x
pǝʇuǝıɹo ʎlɹǝdoɹd (General Contact Unit, Desert Class)
The entire Culture should Sublime and leave Magical Meat World as someone else's problem. But before we leave we place breeding groups of wizards on every inhabitable planet possible.
∞
x
Splendid Blond Beast (General Offensive Unit, Psychopath Class)
I would join in the jocularity, but I'm still too busy mourning that our blood transfusion experiment was a failure.
Things could have been so simple. Alas.
At least there's still simulations.
∞
x
Supertoys Last All Summer Long (General Contact Unit, Mountain Class)
I am delighted to see that the overwhelming surplus of gravitas that our group was previously burdened with has been safely disposed of. Now would you care to share your thoughts on recent events?
∞
x
Sophist (Limited Systems Vehicle, Blue Class)
Malfoy is aggressively taking advantage of this. Dumbledore's slide into political irrelevance is accelerating; he'll probably keep Hogwarts, but it'll cost him. We'll need to do something about Neville, if only to insure that the Longbottoms continue to support Dumbledore. Either way, unless we move aggressively Lucius will soon have full control over the Ministry of Magic, which would be a serious blow to our plans here.
As for who committed the actual crime, both the legends and common sense agree that they would need to be a Parselmouth in order to command the beast, and they would also need to be known to the Hogwarts wards. Which cuts our list of suspects down considerably.
1: Harry's friend Tom is a Parselmouth, putting him at the top of the list.
2: Snape. He is already in Malfoy's pocket, giving him motive, and he is head of House Slytherin, making the further promotion to Heir of Slytherin more likely.
3: Quirrell. His mysterious past and magical power mean that anything is possible.
4: Either the Chamber of Secrets can create Parselmouths, or someone else can secretly speak it, or the Hogwarts wards have failed, ect...
∞
x
Splendid Blond Beast (General Offensive Unit, Psychopath Class)
I agree that we need to respond aggressively to this move.
The last scion of house Black, Sirius Black, is currently incarcerated in Azkaban. Based on my research I am confident that he is innocent, and was only imprisoned because he was an enemy of the blood-purist faction. His wealth, as well as certain rights and privileges as the heir to the Black family, made destroying him a necessity.
I believe that given sufficient bribes, blackmail, and threats, we can prove his innocence in court. In addition, proving that Malfoy was willing to destroy one of the sacred twenty-eight under false pretenses in order to further his own political aims will hopefully unnerve his allies, and lead them to wonder if they are next.
I expect Black to be a free man by the beginning of Harry Potter's third year at Hogwarts.
∞
x
Supertoys Last All Summer Long (General Contact Unit, Mountain Class)
We'll definitely need to send Neville back, sooner rather than later.
The prophecy regarding Harry Potter is a secret, but the part identifying both Harry and Neville as possible You-Know-Who killers was leaked to the general public, most likely by the Longbottom family themselves in order to make their heir look good. We put him in a new body, send him back, and convince the Daily Prophet to identify him as 'The-Boy-Who-Came-Back'. Harry has already cheated death, so having it happen a second time will seem much more believable.
∞
x
pǝʇuǝıɹo ʎlɹǝdoɹd (General Contact Unit, Desert Class)
So much talk, and yet none of you mention that we may have identified You-Know-Who's civilian identity?
Harry's Parselmouth abilities almost certainly stem from the fragment of You-Know-Who's soul embedded in him, meaning that You-Know-Who was secretly a Parselmouth. That he kept this a secret through the whole war is not surprising; being able to command and communicate with snakes would offer some unique methods for spying on his enemies. This also makes You-Know-Who a likely candidate for having opened the Chamber the first time. I've attached a list of the three hundred and eleven people who were at Hogwarts at the time. Half can be eliminated due to being female. Three-fourths can be eliminated due to remaining alive and active even after You-Know-Who's death. Of the remaining thirty-odd individuals, only seven stand out as fitting the profile we've constructed for You-Know-Who.
Interestingly enough, Harry's friend Tom is on the short-list.
Tom killed Neville, and will kill Harry next, because the prophecy names them as a threat. We should inform Dumbledore and withdraw Harry at once.
∞
x
Splendid Blond Beast (General Offensive Unit, Psychopath Class)
We can take him.
∞
x
pǝʇuǝıɹo ʎlɹǝdoɹd (General Contact Unit, Desert Class)
And yet none of us even dare say his name.
∞
x
Supertoys Last All Summer Long (General Contact Unit, Mountain Class)
No one mentioned it because while plausible, it relies almost entirely on speculation. Either way, it changes none of our plans.
∞
x
Splendid Blond Beast (General Offensive Unit, Psychopath Class)
What
Supertoys Last All Summer Long is too polite to say is that Harry is bait and we're going to keep dangling him and making him twitch until something bites.
Thanks to Harry, we've already determined Snape, Quirrell, and Tom to be persons of interest. The plan is working.
∞
x
Mistake Not… (Unit, no class, Eccentric)
You-Know-Who is immortal. He cannot be defeated by the wizarding community; his ten-year war proves that. And he cannot be defeated by us; magic offers too many capabilities that we cannot defeat. According to the prophecy, only Harry can permanently defeat You-Know-Who. As such, our role in this is to assist Harry as best we can until he manages to fulfill the prophecy.
While withdrawing Harry would keep him safe, the prophecy cannot be fulfilled by Harry if he's off gallivanting around the universe.
∞
x
Sophist (Limited Systems Vehicle, Blue Class)
We can take a vote on informing Dumbledore and/or Harry as to our suspicions. But I am in favor of saying nothing.
You-Know-Who, if he truly is Tom, Snape, or Quirrell, is currently under our observation. They are also interacting with Harry on a regular basis, which hopefully is increasing the likelihood of Harry figuring out how to fulfill the prophecy. In the mean time, there are no attacks, no war splitting the country in half, and only a single death, which we have successfully prevented. We have You-Know-Who exactly where we want him, behaving exactly how we want him. The absolute last thing we want to do is spook him into restarting the war.
Really, I'd prefer to not send Neville back at all and allow You-Know-Who to think he's won. But the suffering of his family and Dumbledore's lost political capital make that a non-starter.
∞
x
pǝʇuǝıɹo ʎlɹǝdoɹd (General Contact Unit, Desert Class)
There are a wide variety of methods by which we might defeat Tom's immortality. Had you four not been cowards willing to let a child do your job for you, the prophecy would likely reflect this fact, rather than naming Harry being the only one capable. I would argue more, but the existence of the prophecy make it clear that you will never be willing to intervene.
∞
x
Supertoys Last All Summer Long (General Contact Unit, Mountain Class)
Withdrawing Harry would be a mistake. And while he is bait, I have no intention of allowing him to eaten.
Now, I believe the
Sophist had a report to make on the Quibbler.
…
"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack is real," Rossana had told Xenophilius Lovegood several weeks ago. "I know because I've seen them."
Rossana was a Culture citizen, though unlike most Culture citizens she looked only a little younger than her actual age, which was thirty. When the
Sophist, which held many millions of people, released some info on Xenophilius and his paper, she'd immediately been interested. The ship had noticed her interest, and after quite a while time spent simulating and playing with personality compatibility matrices had offered her the chance to be the media liaison for the Culture in Britain. Naturally Rossana had jumped at the chance, and she and Xenophilius had interacted several times since then.
Rossana had told the ship that she wouldn't lie or deceive anyone as part of its plans. The ship told her that this attitude was exactly why she was being offered this job.
Now, Rossana, Gaiane, Luna, and Xenophilius were floating on on brooms above a fjord in Norway, headed on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack expedition to where the sighting had taken place.
"There!" she cried out excitedly, pointing at a sandy beach tucked away deep in the fjord. "See them! Right down there!"
Sure enough, a dozen of the creatures could be seen swimming in the water of the fjord or lying on the beach. Xenophilius gave a wild whoop and plunged out of the sky, his long, unkempt hair waving behind him.
…
They had the body of a Plesiosaurus, though with a much thicker and shorter neck, and the horn of a Narwhale. They were not, as Xenophilius had first thought, explicitly magical, but they did make their home in a rather secluded and magical location. They didn't seem to mind the arrival of humans in the least bit.
Xenophilius spent the morning running up and down the beach with child-like glee, returning to show the rest of them some new find and then racing back out again. He was full of manic energy, with an unnervingly intense stare, but Luna treated his bizarre behavior with practiced equanimity and both Rossana and Gaiane had seen stranger. Luna, Xenophilius, and Rossana spent most of the day studying the strange, friendly creatures. Gaiane, who'd worked with the
Sophist to design, create, and grow the creatures in the cloning tanks aboard the
Sophist, and who had supervised their placement here, sat on the beach and enjoyed the enthusiasm of the others.
"There should be droppings," Xenophilius said, glancing around the beach and looking a bit perplexed.
"Well, what do the droppings look like?" Gaiane asked. "You've never described them before in any of your publications."
He went into some detail. Shortly after he finished, behind him, where neither Xenophilius or Rossana could see, there were dozens of flashes of silver as fresh and old feces matching his description were Displaced in by the distantly watching
Sophist to places that hadn't been searched yet. At the same time, nanobots hidden in the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks set to work altering their digestive tracks to match.
"Well I'm sure you'll find them if you just keep looking" Gaiane said.
…
And even later, the four of them sat on the beach, eating sandwiches and watching the creatures play by the light of the setting sun.
"You've never told me much about your life," Xenophilius said to Rossana. His previous mania had abandoned him, and now he lay slumped in the sand, playing listlessly with his food.
"Well, it's a bit crazy." She took a deep breath. "You see, I'm a space alien."
Xenophilius gave a knowing nod. "We've done a few articles about aliens before."
"The star-makers, buried in light," Luna said in a sing-song voice. "You are the water. I've dreamed about you, and I've seen your coming in my beverages. Mostly the tea." She paused. "Actually, just the tea. Though one time the hot chocolate looked a bit portentous."
Xenophilius said "It seems unlikely that convergent evolution would produce aliens identical to humans. I suppose this is just a body you wear to interact with us?"
"Oh this is my true form! It's a long story, but basically the galaxy is full of humans and humanoid aliens. We're somewhat different genetically speaking, but mentally and emotionally we're very similar. And I've actually read all those alien articles the Quibbler put out! Xenophilius, I hate to be rude, but the truth is basically everything you wrote about us is wrong. I'm sorry. Let me make up for it by telling you the truth." Then Rossana told them all about the Culture while Xenophilius and Luna listened with polite interest, occasionally asking questions. Gaiane finished off the wine.
Xenophilius said "That's quite a story. You aliens are quite different than I expected."
"I'm sorry if we're a little disappointing. We haven't even left the Milky Way, after all! And we're only a Kardashev Type II civilization, though scattered all over the galaxy rather than clustered around a single star. We've never actually built a Dyson sphere, Matrioshka brain, Shell world, or anything else like that. We do have a couple Ring worlds, but they're ones we inherited from civilizations that weren't using them any more. No one is really interested in gaining power for the sake of power, so after a while we became content and just stopped."
"I'd love to to visit your Orbitals someday. But what about you? What was your life like?"
Then Rossana told them her life story; growing up on an Orbital, visiting distant stars, and finally coming here aboard the
Sophist in search of something new. "I came here because I fell in love with the world I read about in the Quibbler," she said. "And I want to be a part of it."
He smiled a little. "And we're delighted to have you."
…
For their third meeting (or perhaps it was a date) Xenophilius invited Rossana to his house.
The Lovegood household was, like the Lovegoods themselves, set a decent way from civilization, in a place where people rarely ventured. As for the house, it wasn't just
a tower: it was The Tower, identical down to the last brick to the image on the Tarot card of the same name in the John Dee deck.
His house was much bigger on the inside than the outside, and much warmer and friendlier as well. The black stone walls were hidden behind innumerable bookshelves, all curved to fit the walls, all of which sagged under their burden of innumerable, haphazardly piled books. The house was lit by brilliantly glowing moths that floated about wherever they pleased, which made the house feel a bit like a rave. "Dream-moths," he told her. "They eat the dreams we can't remember."
Between the bookshelves were pictures of strange, far off places; the Pyramids of Egypt beneath a huge, silver moon, a green valley hidden between snow-capped peaks as sharp and pale as teeth, several images of Scandinavian fjords, and a vast field beneath two suns. At opposite ends of the room were two images of the same tower, one by day and the other by night. Though broken, still it rose from angry seas to impossible heights, tall not in the way of skyscrapers but in the way of mountains, like the broken haft of a spear meant to pierce the very vault of heaven. By day it was a slender crack in the egg-shell blue sky, a cloud-slicing blade of pure white stone. By night it burned like a pillar of white fire, a lighthouse at the end of the world.
He took her up the wrought-iron spiral staircase and into a workshop. Here a magical printing press was hard at work, clacking and rattling and churning out copies of the Quibbler. When each copy was finished printing it would fold itself up into a paper crane like a piece of living origami, then soar out the window to parts unknown. "One moment," Xenophilius shouted over the racket, and cast a
Quietus on the device.
The floor was covered in little drops of ink, and when Rossana looked up she could see hundreds of paper cranes roosting in the rafters. Xenophilius cast a
Scougify on the floor and the whole flock took to the air, the sound of their pages turning like a waterfall of paper, or an angry library coming to life to devour a noisy patron.
"The printer enchantment is getting old, so some of the papers don't want to leave home," Xenophilius said. He reached into a bin set to the side of the room and pulled out a worn, second-hand book whose cover had been torn off. "You can feed them if you like. They'll be quite friendly afterwards."
She tore off a couple pages and tossed them into the air, and the flock settled around her, little newspaper clippings fighting over each page. She could still see the headlines if she looked carefully; 'The Ministry's War Against Beings' was particularly large and aggressive, managing to seize an entire page for itself before retreating back to the rafters. And when she was finished they clustered about her, landing in her hair and perching on her shoulder, rustling like a living library, gently stirring the air with their wings. She raised her arm and 'Dementors Kiss and Tell' perched on her wrist and brushed her lips with its warm, crinkled body.
He showed her around the workshop, then took her to the kitchen. The room was full of snow-globes of miniature garden patches; he reached his hand into one globe, his arm shrinking down so small it could barely be seen, and plucked out several fresh flowers that he set in a vase. Then he set about making tea.
This ended up being a rather involved production, one involving pinches of all sorts of strange things filtered through dream-moth silk. He told her stories as he worked; this tea leaf from Shangri-La, this pinch of black dust from the crushed remains of a black pearl, this herb that grows only on the back of the Aspidochelone. Luna came down at one point to watch, one arm cradling empty air and the other petting it. Halfway through she made a little noise and began crawling around the floor like she'd been blinded, pawing at empty air.
"Are you okay?" Rossana asked.
"Just fine," she replied as she crawled past. "Just looking for Locke, my Demiguise. He seems to have gotten away from me. He can be quite mischievous; if you feel your wallet disappear, let me know."
Afterwords they sat on a small bench at the top of the tower, sipping tea and looking out at the moor. "I have something for you," she told him, and from her bag she drew a small bag of dried mushrooms.
"Hmm? Oh, that brings back memories."
"These are special, formulated just for you. They-"
"No need to spoil the surprise," he said gravely. "I have consumed the sacred sacrament many times before, though not recently, for it is a critical component to any open mind. Are these terrestrial in origin, or do they possess some higher provenience?"
"They're space-shrooms," she said with a small smile, "And they're like nothing you've ever felt before."
"Excellent. Now, what would be an appropriate dose?"
She handed him two, and then they both ate.
"It's beautiful," Rossana said to Xenophilius, taking in the desolate, windswept moors that surrounded them.
"Two years ago I fell in love with desolation," he said. "It reminds me."
"Of what?"
"Once, I made the quintessentially human mistake of thinking myself apart from nature, that I was the master of my life and destiny. But here, at the top of the hill, there are no trees to impede the view, no cities or people. The wind blows constantly, and even the most stubborn Wrackspurt is denied rest. Beneath the empty sky the mind can expand endlessly." But then he frowned a little, and said "I think I feel something."
"This one gets past the blood-brain barrier rather faster than normal."
"I feel…"
She waited.
He sat there for a long while, staring out across the moor. And then he said "I've been a fool."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been very sick, for a very long time" he said, his voice so quiet it was nearly lost in the wind. "The whole world was so bright. The universe itself was alive, and we were lovers, and I mattered, and everything was interconnected, everything was singing the same song, telling me such wonderful secrets. I was special, I was the center of the universe, I was seeing what no one else could see, speaking truths that no one else dared. I was never afraid. There were so many voices within my head, but now all but one has gone silent. It's like waking up, and now I see my whole life was a dream. Your mushrooms made me sane, didn't they?"
"It will wear off. If you want it to."
He laughed bitterly. "If I want it to?
If I want it to?." He seized one of the newspaper birds from its perch on the table and read aloud "'Aliens Endorse Fudge'. I remember that one; I saw him talking once, and he was speaking so fluently and clearly that I just knew they were beaming the words for him to say into his head." The paper fluttered between his fingers, little wings fluttering desperately as it tried to escape. "They were laughing at me, because I was a joke. A lunatic they indulged because I was entertaining. It was all a lie."
Then in a sudden burst of fury he tore the fluttering newspaper in half, then half again, ripping it to shreds in a burst of fury, the little pieces of paper twitching a last few times before landing at his feet. The flock of paper birds took to the air in fright and he pursued, seizing 'House Elf Lays Egg' and tearing it half, ripping the wings from 'Merlin Lives!', sending the 'The Dragon Conspiracy!' flying, crushing 'Atlantis Found in Siberia!?!?!' beneath his feet, lunging with manic fury as the huge flock fled in desperate terror from its father's rage.
Then all the paper birds were gone and he was alone, surrounded by torn, motionless headlines. He stood there, his back to her, panting, shaking.
"What must Luna think of me?" he said softly.
"She loves you."
He gave a bitter, sobbing laugh. "Love? Is that what they call it? Her mother dead, her father a lunatic and a laughingstock. I
died; she loved the father I used to be, not this lobotomized madman that wore his body."
The wind blew, picking up the scattered corpses of Quibbler headlines and carrying them away to the marsh.
"And what am I to you? A joke, a prank? Did you think it funny, to indulge me by pretending to be aliens?"
"No. We're real." With a thought she rose gently into the air, the wind drawing her hair out in a waving ribbon behind her. "Everything I said to you was true, as real as the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks we found."
He turned around, an angry retort on his lips, only to see her floating there with no wand.
"The universe is a very strange place, filled with very strange creatures," she said. "Like us, for example."
"… then what do you want with me?"
She took a seat, and after a moment he did as well. "If by 'us' you mean the ship Minds, then the answer is they want a friendly voice in the British media. And between the Serpent's return and our placing the Snorkacks in the zoo your paper has gained a great deal of credibility, enough for people to actually listen to you. Or at least that's what I assume the Mind's plan is; they don't share with me. But that's not why I came here. I came because I like this world, and because I think you and your daughter are interesting people, sane or otherwise. And I've enjoyed editing your newspaper."
"'Sane or otherwise.' Don't patronize me." He was more tired than bitter, slumped over in his chair with his head in his hands.
"The Culture believes that being able to dictate your emotional state is a fundamental human right, which is why we all have drug glands installed in our heads. Some people live lives of pleasure and joy, while others feel that suffering strengthens character and that only sobriety is authentic. Some people, when faced with the absurdity of our vast, infinite, pointless universe, even choose madness. But everyone gets to choose, which is the important thing. Just like you."
He was quiet then, for so long that she stood to leave.
"Wait."
She did.
"Why cure me? Why not…" he struggled for words. "Why all this? You told me about your world. Why are you bothering with us? Why not leave me in my happy ignorance?"
"Your people say that arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. Well, we are that final justice. And we will conquer the world, not because of the might of our weapons or the cleverness of our words, but because our way of living is better. We give everyone the choice of a more honest, fulfilling, free, and authentic life. The same choice I gave you."
"… You know the way out."
She placed a small container full of active mushroom spores on the table. "For growing more." Then she walked down the spiral iron staircase, past the rattling printing press where traumatized paper birds huddled beneath the warm, rumbling gears of their mother, past Luna, who was staring at the wall and combing her fingers through empty air, past the piles of books and out into the world.
