Chapter 12: Back to the Forest
Though their exams were over there was still a final week of classes to get through. Fortunately, the teachers understood that by this point their students had spent most of their brain power and had little left to spend on lessons. Most classes consequently were more fun and experience oriented. Charms class was a selection of games of assembling towers with levitation spells or trying to get their classmates to laugh or cry with mood charms. Transfiguration had McGonagall showing off her animagus form by hiding out amongst a bunch of other cats. Even potions wasn’t that bad as Snap just left them with a few very easy potions to brew and allowed them to chat with each other once they were done.
History of magic and astronomy didn’t change much. But they almost never did. Harry got to experience his first divination class where his death wasn’t predicted. Instead, Trelawney spent most of the class praising him for predicting Buckbeak’s escape. Care of magical creatures was especially fun as Professor Dumbledore showed up and along with Hagrid took them on a brief tour of the outskirts of the forbidden forest. The place was a lot less creepy in the light of day with someone as powerful as Dumbledore at their side. They found a collection of Ashwinder eggs in the hollows of several trees which they froze and collected to keep from starting any forest fires.
The local centaurs came out to greet Professor Dumbledore. They talked to him about the politics of the woods, of the acromatula and how Aragog, their patriarch, was losing control of his family in his old age and how this could lead to a lot of trouble. They told him about high elves they had seen wandering the deep woods and asked his advice about what might have drawn them out of the fey wild. They even warned him about dark signs they had seen in the heavens.
Dumbledore listened to them all carefully. He was oddly respectful as he spoke back to them. He never told them to do anything, only ever said what he thought might be wise and why, or what he would do if he were in their place. He also quite subtly offered to help them, and Hagrid was even more open, especially about the elves whom he thought might be trouble. It was obvious that not all the centaurs liked Dumbledore, but they nodded along with much of what he said.
Harry saw in their minds that they were deeply worried, more about what they had seen in the stars than anything happening in the forest. Harry suspected the vision of Lord Voldemort might lay heavy in the future so that several different people might be able to see. Harry was quite grateful that their gaze swept over the school children without interest, so perhaps they hadn’t caught any sign about the Illithids or Harry.
Many of Harry’s classmates were very impressed with the centaurs, their noble bearing and proud demeanors. Even the Slytherins were surprised and intrigued by their insight and obvious intelligence. Harry did his best to ignore that several of the girls in his group had their minds turned in completely different directions as they found themselves surrounded by a number of shirtless, very well-built men. It took all of Ron’s efforts not to break down laughing as he felt Hermione’s mind unwillingly fill with certain fantasies.
Harry had found by the first morning out of the hospital wing that it was very easy to touch Ron and Hermione’s connections to his mind with each other. This allowed them to sense each other’s thoughts just as easily as they could sense his. The first time he had done so their faces had both bloomed bright red. While the love that Harry felt towards either of them was familial in nature, what the two of them felt for each other was a fair bit more complicated.
There wasn’t anything Hermione did that didn’t impress Ron in some way. No matter how he might tease her: calling her a know-it-all or brainiac or what have you, deep down Ron was simply amazed that Hermione could remember so much so easily. To Hermione, Ron was the definition of what was normal and simple. He was what grounded her and connected her to the world. Hermione was always scared of pushing too far and alienating people with something she had said without thinking about. Ron was the one who pulled her back to reality, who made it clear when she had gone too far or was getting on people’s nerves.
The funny thing was, neither of them had really understood their own views about each other until the bond formed. It was just as big a surprise to Hermione that she used Ron as an early warning system as it was for Ron. And even better she had gotten defensive about it.
“I do not see Ron Weasley as any kind of standard about civility or tact.” She insisted.
“And yet you often stop pressing an issue after he speaks up about it.” Harry pointed out calling up a memory of earlier in the year when Hermione had gotten angry with one of her classmates for attributing the death of her pet to one of Trelawney’s predictions. Hermione had pressed the issue until Ron accused her of not taking the wellbeing of other people’s pets seriously. Hermione couldn’t help but recall the same event as she felt Harry’s mind turn in that direction.
“I only ran off because Ron had said such awful things then.” She defended herself from the unspoken accusation.
“Then why are you so embarrassed by your memory?” Ron pressed, feeling her mind shift. “Admit it, you were so focused on being right you didn’t stop to think how Lavender might be feeling until I spoke up.”
“Okay so maybe I was a little tactless, but I would’ve realized it if anyone else had spoken up, it’s not you specifically.” She said with a huff.
“You don’t seem at all concerned about your feelings getting revealed.” Harry turned the conversation to Ron.
“Why should I be?” Ron shot back. “So, I know Hermione is brilliant and I’m regularly impressed by her. In other news the sky is blue and Snape’s an asshole. I shall alert the Daily Prophet about all of this.”
He might have carried on, but Hermione had turned an impressive shade of red. And when she felt them notice her and so also noticed how much she was blushing which made her almost turn crimson. When Ron pressed on, pointing out: “Blimey she’s weak to compliments.” She gave up and ran for the bathroom.
Of all the final classes they took that week the one that stood out the most was defense against the dark arts. Rumors had been spreading around the school. Older students who had already had their final lesson with Professor Lupin seemed to be locked in discussions with each other, and many Slytherins were throwing him dirty looks during the last few dinners. But they heard nothing concrete and when their lesson finally came it took them all by surprise.
The lesson started with Professor Lupin asking them to write down an evaluation of how good or bad of a teacher he had been. Perhaps list their three most favorite things about him and the things that frustrated them the most about the class. Perhaps even just to fill a few inches of parchment with everything they had wanted to complain about all year. They could write whatever they wanted and not worry because he wasn’t going to collect them or read them. When it seemed that they were done he spoke to them.
“We teach defense against the dark arts here at Hogwarts because the magical world we all live in is at least a little bit dangerous.” Professor Lupin was quite serious and spoke in a deliberate manner. “Out in the world you will find dangerous creatures, dangerous wizards and dangerous magic. The only way to ever be completely safe would be to lock yourself in your home and never let anyone in. So, you have to be ready for that danger. When you grow older and leave Hogwarts there may come times when you must take risks and you need to know how to handle them.”
“This past year the Headmaster and the rest of the staff decided to take a risk.” He continued. “They let me come and teach you. This was a risk because I am a werewolf and thus, I am more dangerous than most other wizards could ever be.”
There were some shocked gasps from the class but not many. The signs were there after all, Harry and Hermione hadn’t been the only ones to work them out. Some minds in the room around Harry did feel a sudden instinctive fear, most did not.
“This seemed a reasonable risk at the time,” Professor Lupin explained, “Because Professor Snape can easily brew the wolfsbane potion for me and thus keep me safe to be around during the full moon. In retrospect I have come to believe that this was actually too dangerous of a risk. Not long ago I forgot to drink my potion before a full moon and so underwent a full transformation. Luckily no one was hurt, but they could’ve been. I could never live with myself if I ever let my curse spread to another so I have tendered my resignation to Dumbledore and will not be returning to teach you next year.”
“No!” Dean Thomas suddenly interrupted, and Ron shortly echoed him. Harry would’ve but he could see that Professor Lupin’s mind wouldn’t be moved on this point. “Professor, you’re the best defense teacher we’ve ever had. You might be a werewolf but you’re also the first professor we’ve had for this class who never attacked a student. You’re the safest we’ve ever been around.”
Surprisingly that made quite a few of the minds that felt afraid of Lupin calm down, it had no effect on Lupin though who pressed on.
“That’s very kind of you to say Dean.” Lupin said. “But I fear that’s more a vote against your past teachers than it is a word in my favor. Please don’t try to change my mind, at least not during class I still have a fair bit to say.” Dean nodded and the class focused on him again.
“As I said,” He resumed. “I don’t think that the school should have taken the risk it did with me. Not with a castle full of children, not without a better way to make sure I always drank my potion. But that is life. We take risks based on what seems to be wise at the time. Some pay off, others don’t. Some force us to eventually pay a price for them. And sometimes we pay a price when we don’t take those risks. Knowing what risks you could take, which are too dangerous, which should be taken, and which must be taken I think is what it means to be wise.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can teach you to be wise.” Lupin said which made quite a few people laugh. “For that matter I’m not certain anyone could teach you to be wise. Especially some of you. Instead, all I could do this year was teach you how to be safe if you take a risk and it turns out badly. It is my hope that none of you will ever have anything to fear from any of the creatures I have taught you to protect yourselves from. And I hope whoever teaches you next will help you keep yourselves safe from dangerous wizards and dangerous magic.”
“But what I hope for more than anything else is that you walk these learned halls and study under its talented staff, you will grow wise.” Lupin said earnestly and passionately. “Before you are your own thoughts written about me. Now you know I am a werewolf. I encourage you to spend your time over the summer thinking about whether that changes what you think about me. Or if what you think about me changes what you think about werewolves in general. Only you can know the right answers to those questions. Just as only you will know in the future whether dealing with some being or intelligent creature is a risk worth taking.”
“Do not be naive.” He warned them. “There are some risks even I would not take with werewolves or giants or centaurs. Just as there are risks I wouldn’t take with most wizards. I would advise you to keep your minds open, gain wisdom, and sharpen your skills. Be ready to protect yourselves and others. The more you are able to keep yourself safe the greater risks you can take. Even the greatest risks of all, to forgive, to help others and to be merciful.”
With those words the class ended. After he had packed up his things Harry shook Professor Lupin’s hand and thanked him for all his help throughout the year. Once the other students had seen Harry do that, most others followed his example. In fact by the time, they left there wasn’t a mind in that room that feared their werewolf teacher and not a person who hadn’t thanked him for teaching them.
Not long after that last class came the last feast of the year. The great farewell feast of Hogwarts, since the next morning they would all board the Hogwarts Express and make for home. It was as usual a very enjoyable meal. This year all the decorations were in Gryffindor red as they had won the house cup to go with their quidditch cup. Just before the meal began Harry tracked down Professor McGonagall to make some changes to his schedule for next year.
“You want to add a class Mr. Potter?” McGonagall tried to clarify. “It’s not often students come to me asking for more work. Even Ms. Granger dropped a pair of classes this year instead of looking for an extra challenge.”
“Well to be fair she was trying to take so many classes already she needed a thirty-hour day to squeeze it all into.” Harry pointed out. “But while helping her cope with all that work, I realized that ancient runes actually seems like a pretty interesting class, so I would like to take it next year.”
“Well, it won’t be too much trouble.” The professor confirmed. “But you are a year behind. Either you’ll have to take a remedial course for at least the first part of next year to catch up, which will be quite a lot of work, or you’ll have to take an exam over the summer to prove you’re sufficiently studied the work on your own.”
“I think I can pass a test like that.” Harry said. “I’ve already spent a good bit of time reading over Hermione’s shoulder so I don’t think passing that test should be too difficult.”
“We’ll see.” Professor McGonagall said reserving judgment. “Even if you fail the summer test you will still be able to take the class next year, you’ll simply be taking third year runes and fourth year runes at once. It won’t be easy, but I think you can handle it. I’ll let you take one of the old ancient runes textbooks home with you. And if you wouldn’t mind, may I ask why exactly you’ve taken a sudden interest in the subject?”
Before Harry could answer the doors to the main hall flew open as Professor Trelawney suddenly flew into the room. She had a wild and excited look in her eyes, and she was holding a crystal ball up triumphantly before her. As all eyes turned to her, Harry risked opening his ESP even when he was so close to Dumbledore and confirmed that she was holding the crystal ball he had been experimenting on all year.
“I saw it! I saw it all!” Trelawney was shouting. “I was meditating as I usually do before the evening meal when suddenly I felt my energies align with my crystal ball as they never have before, and I actually saw it all! The Grimm and the wolf driving a rat away! A one-eyed man pouring fire from a cup upon the school! Leprechauns and Veelas battling in the skies above Britain! I saw it all plain as day!”
“Of course, Veelas and Leprechauns are going to be fighting.” McGonagall declared, surprising everyone, including Trelawney, into silence. “Those are the mascots for the Bulgarian and Irish teams who will be competing in the quidditch world cup this year. It’s already been announced. Honestly Trelawney if you’re going to make up stories to build credibility you had best try and predict things we don’t already know.”
The row between the two Professors that followed would go down in Hogwarts history as one of the best ever. Professor Sprout had to pull the two of them apart after just ten minutes and it went on for another twenty after that. It was astounding. Harry retired back to the Gryffindor table as it started and sat back with Ron and Hermione.
“Honestly why is she making such a big scene out of this?” Hermione asked aloud, glaring at Professor Trelawney. “You would think she never had seen anything in one of those crystal balls before.”
“She probably hasn’t.” Harry commented. “That’s the ball I’ve been working on over these last two terms. It nearly works.”
“What?!” Hermione exclaimed.
“I told you I actually saw something during my exams, but you didn’t believe me.” Ron added, as Harry turned their attention to his memories of adding runes to the crystal ball and the various things, he had seen in it as he worked on it. Including the three especially potent visions he had received during his own exam. Ron summarized them: “So your visions think you know who is going to come back as well then? That’s worrying.”
“The graveyard part of it might be useful.” Harry noted. “I wonder if they buried Tom’s body somewhere and if this means he’s going to try and steal it back?”
“I never heard of them recovering his body.” Ron said. “I thought he still had his old one, and it was just weak and powerless.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Harry rejected. “He had to use Quirrell’s body back during our first year. Honestly, I’m not even certain if prophecy is any help at all. It’s so vague, it really just raises more questions than answers. I think I can make a better version of that crystal ball, maybe that will help.”
“I’m sorry, back up.” Hermione interrupted, her mind had been focused on the third vision Harry had seen, the one where an Elder Brain takes over Hogwarts. “Divination actually works? And Trelawney has just been using busted equipment this whole year?”
“It’s not just that she’s using bad equipment.” Harry explained. “It’s that the whole field is filled with what I suspect is proprietary knowledge. There have been real seers. Trelawney actually is one, if Dumbledore is to be believed. Most others I think developed tricks and methods to focus their gift and make it semi reliable. One used palm reading, another tea leaves, someone found a set of useful runes they could carve into crystal balls. Later some scholars tried to nail down their methods into something that could be taught in school, but either didn’t get the whole thing or they were lied to by the seers they were interviewing who wanted to keep their secrets. Now Hogwarts is trying to teach something that possibly can’t actually be taught. I think a history of divination, going over the various famous seers from the past and how they worked would be a lot more useful. That way people who did have the gift would have an idea of who to build on it, and people who don’t have it would be able to spot the frauds and copycats.”
“But your crystal ball does actually work?” Hermione pressed.
“I think so.” Harry answered. “It does show you things, and in retrospect some of those things may have been visions of what was about to happen. It’s some fairly rough work. I definitely think I can do better after I’ve learned more about magical runes and how they might interact with other runes.”
Hermione got a look on her face as she considered this. Ron immediately balled up his napkin, touching it for what Harry suspected might be the first time in his life, and threw it at her. He had sensed where her thoughts were turning even faster than Harry had.
“You are not taking any more classes!” Ron commanded. “You hated that class Hermione, and you way overworked yourself this past year. Honestly, I’m not certain that dropping muggle studies and divination is really enough and you might need to give up on arithmancy as well.”
That was an underhanded technique on Ron’s part. He was trying to distract her into arguing for keeping arithmancy rather than adding divination. As Ron felt Harry see through his deception, he realized such a technique wouldn’t work now that they all shared their heads with each other and so he tried to drown out their attention by yelling “Harry quick forbid her from taking any more classes with your mind powers!” In his head.
Harry almost spat his water across the table in surprise. “I will never—” He started out loud before thinking better of it and continuing telepathically. “I will never force either of you not to do something. I can’t believe you would even suggest that, Ron! This is no joking matter.”
“It would be for her own good.” Ron thought back.
“Five extra classes were too much.” Hermione said in response while thinking: ‘Even with time travel.’ Before continuing out loud. “But I got through four during the last part of the year without much trouble. And if there really is something to learn in divination….”
“There isn’t.” Harry insisted. “Trelawney doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s spent her whole life trying to copy what other prophets in the past supposedly did and it’s never worked. Maybe if she actually tried something new, something that works for her it would be different, but she hasn’t, so it isn’t. Tea leaves show me something maybe one time in three. The crystal ball needs a lot more work before it’s useful, and it’s probably better to restart and make one completely new from the ground up. Something larger, and maybe polished onyx or obsidian instead of sand glass. Something that can really suck in the light and other kinds of energy. I’m still working on that. And palmistry was a total bust. Utter nonsense and totally meaningless. You won’t be missing anything Hermione.”
“Very well.” Hermione relented after Ron threatened to throw mashed potatoes at her. “I’ll keep myself content with three extra classes. At least until after we get through our O. and I can see if I can talk Professor Dumbledore into offering his alchemy course again. But I want your word on your parent’s grave that you will keep me in the loop about all future foretelling methods you develop.”
“It’s a deal.” Harry agreed.
“Speaking of future projects,” Ron changed the subject as Trelawney made the mistake of escalating from shoving at McGonagall to hair pulling and many of the other Gryffindors arose to condemn the move as unfair. “How are we going to make Harry into an animagus?”
“I’ve looked over the notes Harry gathered from the restricted section and cross referenced them with what Professor McGonagall has told me.” Hermione reported as Professor McGonagall slipped from Trelawney’s grasp, got a fist full of her frizzy hair and used it to flip the other woman around before kicking her legs out from under her so she was now being held up by McGonagall’s grip on her hair. “It’s not an easy ritual. There are three main parts to it. The potion, the mandrake leaf ritual, and the spell itself. The leaf is usually considered the hardest part of it since Harry will have to keep it in his mouth for a whole month.”
“That shouldn’t be that big of an issue.” Harry denied. “Most people fail on that point because they accidently swallow it or spit it out while talking, but I can use my telekinesis to keep it pinned against the side of my mouth. So that part at least may be awkward, but it won’t be difficult.”
“That works.” Hermione accepted. “The potion won’t be too hard to brew. Ron, your parents have potion brewing equipment at home, right?”
“They do.” Ron confirmed. “Ingredients are always cheaper to buy than the finished potion. Saves a good bit of money brewing on our own.”
“Then we can work on it there.” Hermione noted with a nod. “I’ll just need an excuse to come over to your house for a few days.”
“I was thinking about asking both of you to come round for the quidditch world cup.” Ron suggested. “Dad thinks he can get tickets through the ministry. You all can come over and then stay until the school year starts. Mom shouldn’t have any complaints, she’s been wanting to get to know you both better, and it will get Harry away from the muggles much sooner.”
“That’s a good idea.” Harry agreed while he shot the thought: ‘They really aren’t that bad anymore.’ At them which they both ignored. “So, I’ll put the mandrake leaf in my mouth about halfway through July so that in mid-August we can finish the potion by adding that leaf to it.”
“Once that’s done Harry will need to bury it somewhere in Hogwarts and then almost completely forget about it.” Hermione took up the planning. ‘And I mean completely forget about it, every stray thought you have about where it is will throw it just a little bit off. If it gets too far off, then there won’t be any telling what it will do to you when you do take it.’ She added the thought: “It might even just trigger your ceremorphosis then and there.” before continuing out loud. “Then we just wait for a lightning storm.”
“And Harry will have to chant that spell over his heart every day, right?” Ron added.
“Until I start feeling a second heartbeat.” Harry noted.
“Even after that.” Hermione corrected. “Once a lightning storm has passed, we can retrieve the potion, Harry will say the spell one final time and then drink it. If it works, well we’ll have one less thing to worry about. Now that just leaves us to figure out how to get the potion ingredients. I think we’re going to have to break into Professor Snape’s office again.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Harry declared. “We might have to nab a mandrake leaf from the school since I don’t know how else to get one to Little Whinging, but we should be able to just buy the other ingredients. I know I don’t bring it up much, but I am pretty rich.”
“It’s not a question of money.” Ron objected. ‘It’s a question of doing this without you getting registered.’ He added in his thoughts: “If you register you have to demonstrate your transformation before the ministry, and we can’t let them know you’re actually an Illithid.” He continued speaking. “There are watch lists for those kinds of orders. The ministry keeps an eye out for people who might want to go unregistered.”
“Watch lists?” Hermione asked, suspecting that the word might have a different meaning in the magical world.
“Yeah, magical paper that mirrors any receipts written in certain shops.” Ron clarified thinking back to when his dad had talked about them to him. “If certain ingredients are listed on it in the right amounts a copy of it gets sent down to the misuse of magical artifacts office to get looked into later.”
“So, what if someone orders what they need from multiple different shops under different names?” Harry asked. Ron gave him a look as if such a thought had never occurred to him. “Well, it won’t matter regardless. If the goblins of Gringotts could get a convicted murderer a Firebolt I imagine they can get me some herbs and animal fur.”
“There is the small issue of how to make sure your animagus form is an Illithid.” Hermione said telepathically. “From your notes you will need Illithid blood, which we aren’t going to get from any shop.”
“I’ll have to use the principle of similarity to get me into something close to what I need and then rely on my own inner magic to guide the spell the rest of the way.” Harry explained. “We’ll need an aquatic element, something to invoke intelligence, darkness, and mind reading. I was thinking of using kneazle fur for the intelligence and mind reading elements. Bat’s blood for darkness, and squid ink for the aquatic stuff.”
“That sounds about right to me.” Hermione nodded along. “I’ll run the arithmetic calculations for you to be sure. The additive elements of the potion can’t amount to more than a teaspoon, so we are going to have to work with some very precise measurements. I’ll bring a set of metric scales to Ron’s house.”
Their plans for the summer set the group of friends sat back and enjoyed the last of the feast. As Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his end of year speech Harry relaxed and allowed his mind to wander. Much had changed for him this past year and there was a tremendous amount of work ahead. But he had Ron and Hermione by his side, he had a plan, he had his magic, he had Esharry. Whatever the world might throw at him next, he felt ready for it.
Interlude: The Professors.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat back in his headmaster’s chair after he finished his farewell speech for the end of the school year and watched as the assembled students began to break up and head back to their dorm rooms for the evening. It had been a very good farewell feast, he felt, despite two of his most esteemed professors forgetting all decorum and devolving into a fight against one another. Certainly, it would be one long remembered. But the best part of it had certainly been the large number of students who had thanked Professor Lupin for teaching them this past year despite now knowing that he was a werewolf.
Dumbledore liked to think of himself as a man throwing rocks off the edge of a mountain to see if he could manage to knock enough debris loose to start an avalanche. Every student who walked out of this castle with a different point of view was another chance to get a new wave of change moving. This year he felt that, for all Lupin’s reservations about the risk they had undertaken, it had all been worth it. They may well have made a few substantial boulders begin to shake and rattle. All thanks to one teacher things might be changing for the better.
Dumbledore couldn’t help but reflect on his accomplishments. All the times when his advice, suggestions, schemes and string pulling had sent people off tumbling away to shake the foundations of their little magical world. The gay and bi people he had taught to be proud of themselves and to never accept mistreatment from others. The werewolves and vampires he had ensured got their wands and their rights as wizards. The curious explorers he had convinced to try living with beings that the world called creatures and learn how they viewed the world. How many, many different books he had helped get published so that all the ordinary, comfortable and slightly blind wizards and witches out there could learn about boundaries had been pushed and instead of bringing the whole house crashing down on their heads they had just made a little more room for more people to fit in with.
He reflected on his failures too of course. How much prejudice there still was against muggle-borns. How ignorant of muggles and their accomplishments so many wizards chose to remain. How the ministry still forbade him on threat of Azkaban to invite a goblin into his school. How much support the statute of secrecy held on the international scene despite how impossible it was becoming to enforce. How dementors were still allowed to exist in the borders of this country.
A small traitorous voice in the depths of his mind reminded him of how easily those problems could be solved. Of how the Order of the Phoenix could’ve grown after the war into a revolutionary organization. How he could still so easily seize power and put all the things he knew were wrong right. He was the greatest wizard in the world, wielder of the greatest wand to ever exist. Nothing could actually stand in his way if he moved against them.
Dumbledore remembered the face of his dead sister and that voice went silent. He was getting too old for all of this.
“Albus?” Remus spoke up after the last of the students, and all of the students besides him and Severus had gone. “Are you alright?”
“My pardon.” Dumbledore begged. ‘I was lost in the memories of an old man. What is it, Remus? I don’t suppose the outpouring of the students’ appreciation has convinced you to stay on another year?’ Remus shook his head. Dumbledore continued. “A pity. It really is getting rather difficult to keep finding defense teachers. You would’ve saved me an awful headache if you had.”
Dumbledore had desperately hoped the jinx on the defense position would have no effect on Lupin. There had been a pretty good chance after all. Werewolves were highly resistant to curses, their own curses usually refused to let lesser magics cause their hosts any more pain than they did. They were usefully jealous like that.
“Even setting aside the danger and the fact that I almost attacked Harry and Hermione,” Remus noted. “There’s still the matter of Petigrew to deal with. No one besides me or Severus is going to believe he’s come back and if we don’t find him and catch him there will be no way to prove Sirius’s innocence. Not to mention the danger that he presents if left alone abroad.”
“I understand.” Dumbledore accepted. He feared it was already a bit too late though. Petigrew had a head start on them, great fear to urge himself on and only the moderate fear of his master’s wrath to hold him back.
“You don’t think it will matter.” Severus noted. He was one of the best in the world at guessing Dumbledore’s thoughts. “You believe Trelawney’s new prophecy?”
“Simply because it is a true prophecy does not mean it will come true.” Dumbledore sidestepped. “I simply am not certain of how far our resources will stretch in this matter. I have already alerted my contacts in Albania, but they aren’t capable of keeping direct eyes on Tom’s soul at all times. Others have slipped past their watch before. Even with Remus to join them and perhaps inspire their zeal further, we are searching a very large river for a pair of very small minoes.”
“I could join him.” Severus offered. “So could Black.”
“Your efforts, however well intentioned, could cost us our greatest contingency.” Dumbledore rejected. “And Sirius would almost be in as great a danger in eastern Europe as he is in Britain. The warlocks there remember Grindelwald too well and have a deep hatred for any that actually profess to follow a dark lord. In fact, I am almost tempted to say it would be better to spend our time building up our own forces than trying to block Tom’s return.”
“You mean to go through with the tournament then?” Severus guessed. “Karkaroff will disappoint you. His conversion was genuine but so is his fear of the Dark Lord. He will abandon his post at his school as soon as the dark mark can be plainly seen on his skin once more. And Madame Maxime has spent her whole life and about half her family fortune trying to deny what she really is. She’s a coward at heart.”
“Facing a dark wizard can be much easier than facing the whole world’s prejudice, Severus.” Remus interjected. “For the last two hundred years Beauxbaton has offered some of the staunchest resistance to dark magic in the whole world. Three times Grindelwald tried to take that school, once with a Nazi brigade of imperiused soldiers to back his dark wizard up and all three times they were beaten back by the students and their teachers. We would be fools not to seek their aid.”
“Madame Maxime sees much and often discerns the truth.” Dumbledore noted. “I think she especially will prove a strong ally. Karkaroff I admit I don’t have the greatest hope for. But his students on the other hand. Despite rumors proclaiming that under Karkaroff knowledge of the dark arts has increased, it is almost a more welcoming school to muggle-borns and half-bloods than our own is. Most of that is regretfully thanks to how much the magical communities of Eastern Europe suffered under the boot of the muggle communists, and their efforts to destroy the Russian Warlock Duma. They don’t have enough pure-bloods to enforce any kind of prejudice. We may find help there from the youth.”
“I don’t think it is wise to look for help from children, Dumbledore.” Severus said.
“Hopefully none of the youths competing in the tournament will still be children when Tom returns.” Dumbledore responded. There was a stretching silence. Dumbledore broke it. “Ask Severus. Don’t let it build up inside you.”
“How?!” He demanded. “How did Potter learn legilimency? When did he find the time? How could he possibly have learned it well enough to cast it both wandlessly and wordlessly?”
“I do not know Severus.” Dumbledore answered honestly. Sirius had been very eager to boast of his godson’s talent even the limited time Dumbledore had to interrogate him. Several things had surprised Dumbledore. The unseen force that threw Sirius about could be explained by accidental magic, even if that really shouldn’t be appearing anymore in a boy Harry’s age. But the emotions that would’ve been conjured up facing the man who he thought had killed his parents certainly would be strong enough to lash out so. But Legilimency had never been manifested in any case of accidental magic Dumbledore had ever heard of.
And not only could Harry cast a spell that normally only a seventh year would be allowed to attempt, but he could also do so with enough skill to need neither invocation nor a wand to focus it. That kind of skill was extremely rare for even simple spells let alone something as advanced as mind reading. There was also the sheer power with which Harry had used it. According to Sirius, Harry had snatched the story of Peter Petigrew from his mind in a third of the time it had taken Albus to get it from Sirius. To do that Harry must not have been seeing the thoughts play out in Sirius’s head, he must’ve copied how Sirius’s brain stored those memories directly into his own mind and then recalled them himself. It was astonishing and it was only the beginning.
When Albus first heard from the books to the restricted section that Harry had been sneaking spells from them he hadn’t been worried. He trusted Harry to use such magic responsibly. But also, he hadn’t actually thought Harry would be able to do any of them. Curses are very powerful magic, and even the best dark wizards usually only really learn a few of them, since they are so difficult to learn and cast. From what Dumbledore had seen of the whomping willow he knew Harry had added the third most dangerous kind of magic fire and the ability to make flesh vanish to his magical repertoire.
Two very powerful and dangerous curses, learned in the same year Harry had mastered the Patronus Charm more thoroughly than all but a handful of wizards who had passed these walls and legilimency. It was an astonishing amount of progress to come from a student who up until this year, Dumbledore only would’ve ranked as somewhat above average.
“I have long suspected that Harry possessed the same talent for magic as his father did.” Dumbledore offered as explanation. Severus harrumphed at that, which was to be expected. “I think this past year he has also gained his mother’s love of learning. Certainly, his study habits have improved almost as much as his grades have. It will be interesting to see if he keeps up the same rate of progress next year.”
“It is unnatural, mark my words, Dumbledore.” Severus declared. “Something happened to that boy, I know it.”
“Well, if you get any idea of what it might be and how we might spread it to the rest of the student body do let me know.” Albus responded. “As for me I don’t think I will lose and sleep over it.”
And he didn’t. For all his many faults, Dumbledore did trust Harry. He was putting the poor boy through too much not to.
Interlude: The Cousin
On June 24th Dudley Dursley awoke after another night of pleasant but unusual dreams. It was the day after the most miserable birthday he ever remembered having. Dudley had been forced on a diet by his tyrannical school simply because they didn’t want to order him a custom uniform. Well, that wasn’t really true. The school had put him on a diet and convinced his parents to keep that diet up even over the summer. So instead of the burgers and pizza he usually demanded on his birthday he had salad and fruit.
Fruit and salad was all he had been allowed to eat for the last three months. It was bad enough having to starve on rabbit food, but they had also quite publicly informed his family that he had grown too fat for the underwear they stocked. And that was the real rub. He could endure the loss of his favorite foods, but the shame of it all was what really killed him.
Dudley had always known that he was larger than he should be. He had always been the largest kid at school and of course compared to his thin stick of a cousin Dudley was always going to look like a brick house. He had always been able to downplay it though. He was doing it even now, thinking of himself merely as large and not as fat.
His father was a large man. So, Dudley hadn’t felt bad about being large either. In fact, he had been proud that he was clearly growing up to be a big strong man as well. At school though he had met real strong men. Not the fake body builder types from television and movies. But his coaches and teachers who had the old fit man kind of strength, that didn’t show off, but Dudley knew could move with power and assurance. He saw his coaches lead the older athletic boys out on morning runs and had known his own dad could have gone half so far without pulling something important and being forced to lie down.
Dudley had done his best to prove he was strong in school by using his size to bully other kids. He could overpower just about anyone in his age group so that proved that he was actually strong and not fat. This past year he had pushed a quiet kid too far though and ended up with a bloody nose and a limp for the rest of the week. The teachers just told him that was what happened when he picked fights he couldn’t win. He had been too embarrassed to write home about it. So, he couldn’t lie to himself about that anymore.
But it was one thing to know, he was fat. It was quite another for the school nurse to announce to his family when they came to pick him up in front of all the other parents that he was too fat to fit into the uniform. The fact that his mother had put the whole family on the diet along with him made it worse. Every snide comment that his father made about rabbit food, every time his cousin snuck off to eat on his own, every apologetic looks his mother gave him just ate away at him. It made him feel like he was rotting inside.
And now he had to face another whole day of it. Lovely.
Dudley came downstairs to find his cousin cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Dudley was still half asleep and so paid him no mind and just sat at the table. Moments later he heard the clink of a plate set in front of him. He looked up to see the wondrous sight of a pair of fried eggs in front of him. Half a grapefruit as well, but Dudley did his best to ignore it.
“Oh, don’t tempt me, Pots.” He complained. “You know I’m not allowed any real food.”
“You are, believe it or not.” Harry responded after a second. “I actually read that meal plan your nurse sent home and there are some kinds of protein on it. Just nothing too greasy, bacon sausage burgers, that sort of stuff. You’re allowed eggs, ham, and chicken so long as it’s not too much.”
“You looked that up for me?” Dudley asked in genuine surprise.
“No, I got tired of grapefruit for breakfast.” Harry answered honestly which made Dudley laugh.
“Where’d you even find the eggs for this? Mom threw all the real food away.” Dudley asked as he scarfed down his grapefruit as quickly as he could so the taste of the eggs would last as long as it could in his mouth.
“Hedwig got them.” Harry declared, and when he saw the bewildered look on Dudley’s face he added. “My owl.”
“What?” Dudley asked in disbelief. “No, she didn’t. Where would she even find chicken eggs around here? How could she find them?”
Harry shrugged and sat down with his own plate of eggs and dug in. “The same way she knows how to deliver letters I guess.”
“Don’t you magic her or something to send a letter?” Dudley guessed.
“No.” Harry denied. “I just give her the letter and tell her where to take it. She figures out the rest.”
“Oh,” Dudley understood. “They must’ve magicked her before you got her then.”
“Or she’s just a very smart bird.” Harry declared.
“Owls aren’t that smart.” Dudley rejected. “Natural ones anyway. Everyone would use them for mail if they were.”
“You couldn’t deliver all the regular mail with owls.” Harry shot back. ‘The Royal Post must deliver a million letters every day. There aren’t enough owls in the world to handle that.’ Dudley shrugged, he guessed that was true. Harry continued. “They might have all used owls once.”
“I think I would’ve read about that in history if that were true.” Dudley denied.
“Magic was part of the world up until the sixteen-seventies or so.” Harry shot back. “Owl post might have been normal back then.”
“Why did your lot go into hiding anyway?” Dudley asked on a whim.
“I don’t know to be honest.” Harry answered. “I was told it was because wizards didn’t want to be badgered by regular people begging for magical solutions for their problems. But that doesn’t make sense to me. People would’ve paid for magic, and if demand was high and supply low the wizards would’ve made a lot of money doing it all, and I would think that would make up for the annoyance.”
Harry sat and pondered while Dudley cleared their plates and washed them in the sink. It was only fair since Harry had cooked. Once he finished and came back Harry continued his answer.
“I think it was the wars.” Harry said. “A lot of wizards used to be knights and nobles; you know. Useful people like wizards would get drawn into most kings’ courts. So, the thirty years war breaks out, the English Civil War, all the fighting over colonies and empires. Casualties start climbing into the hundreds of thousands and maybe a lot of wizards start wondering if being a part of the rest of the world is worth it.”
That made sense, Dudley accepted. It was too bad really. What would the world be like if Harry’s part of it was more widely known? Would there be dragons at the zoo? Would there be taxi services that flew people into cities on magic carpets to get more cars off the road? Could the worst diseases in the world be done away with a flick of a wand?
His mother and father used to say that magic was freakish and unnatural. But that couldn’t really be true. If something happened, then it was a natural part of the world. And how freakish could wizards really be? That giant that came for Harry to first take him to his school had been strange and Dudley didn’t appreciate that the man had given him a pig’s tail. But he had just gotten mad that his parents had insulted people he liked. That was a normal enough thing to happen. Dudley had shown some kids what for because they had made fun of his friends behind their backs.
So, Harry went to a school that taught magic. Surely it must still be a school though. There would be kids who formed into cliques, homework that everyone hated. Stupid rules that were the way they were because of hundred-year-old traditions that no one understood but still blindly followed. Fun teachers, harsh teachers, boring teachers and teachers who had no idea what they were talking about. How different could it be from his school?
Dudley reflected that it was a little odd he was thinking this way. Certainly, he had never before questioned whether Harry was a freak better left alone. Maybe it was his dreams. Sometimes he dreamed of doing magic, of going to a school like Harry’s and playing stupid games on flying brooms or hanging out with friends to complain about potions homework. Maybe that made it all seem more normal to him. It made Harry seem more normal to him. In fact, he increasingly had a hard time remembering why he thought of Harry as a freak to begin with.
For a time, Dudley just sat there and stared at Harry. And Harry stared right back at him. It was like each was really seeing the other for the first time. Dudley broke the silence.
“How come you haven’t made fun of me for my diet?” Dudley asked. It was a thought that had been bothering him for a while. “I know I’ve called you a skinny little twig before.”
“Because it’s not your fault.” Harry said in response. “You’re not the one who chose the menu around here. You didn’t ask to be fat any more than I asked to be starved.”
Dudley winced. He had never really thought of that before. He couldn’t help but recall all the times Harry had been sent to bed under the stairs for things he hadn’t actually done without dinner. Often on days when Dudley wasn’t certain if Harry had eaten lunch or even breakfast either.
“Mind you it will be your fault if you stay fat.” Harry pushed on as he stood up to leave. “This is your chance to be a better person Duds. I hope you take it.”
He paused on his way out and turned back to say: “I kind of like the nickname Pots. It’s a lot better than freak. Thanks.”
Two weeks later, Harry got Dudley a book of famous sports stars, how they kept themselves in shape, and how they often managed to rise above troubled and misspent youths. Years later Dudley would recall that receiving that book had been one of the most important things that had ever happened to him.
Interlude: The Arcanist.
Kay’Lotha always made sure to take a moment of quiet contemplation each day and revel in the simple things in his life. To let himself forget all the things that normally frustrated him and take some simple satisfaction in something that was and always would be his. This day he relaxed on his favorite and most comfortable couch and ran his fingers slowly through the hair of his favorite duergar thrall.
She leaned back into his touch from time to time enjoying the touch and favor of her master, of her very reason for existing. But mostly she focused on her work. With deft and gentle strokes of her chisel she continued to work on the tiny figurine on the ground before her. This was suitable for her. After all it was this skill that had first attracted Kay’Lotha to her and saved her life.
His favorite duergar, she didn’t have a name anymore since she didn’t need one, had been captured along with a number of others in a raid, some years back, on a gray dwarf mine. Originally, she had been slated to join the food stocks, to be experimented on to see if her brain could be made more swollen or if they could awaken any primitive psychic powers in her mind. Then later once she had been properly prepared, some random hungry Illithid would’ve been given her to pry her head open and feast on her brain.
Kay’Lotha had seen her by happenstance as he came down to the slave pits to fetch a menial drone for the day. By luck he had noticed her fashioning some small bit of stone into a weapon. Likely she intended to slit her own throat with it, but the slave pit masters would never be so careless as to allow such a waist. However, Kay’Lotha had noticed the skill with which she worked the stone and had recognized an actual use for her.
There was more than enough food stock, so the pit master had no objection to Kay’Lotha making her his thrall, so long as he was allowed to help reshape her mind. Together they and a few others had delicately worked around her mind to not only preserve her skills but also enhance them, while clearing away all the superfluous parts of her personality that she didn’t need any more. It had been a most satisfying bit of work, and Kay’Lotha had profited considerably from her work, trading favors for her statues and creations. Yes, Kay’Lotha was very glad he had the wisdom to see how she could be put far more useful work than merely feeding the hungry.
His favorite duergar was working on a statue of one of Kay’Lotha’s other most favored thralls. Ulfrik was one of the most unique thralls in all of the colony, a human being. He had come down into the under dark with a group of “adventurers” to hunt after drow slavers. Kay’Lotha had been part of the group to intercept that party. In fact, it had been Kay’Lotha who had ensnared the man’s mind after one of his compatriots had stunned the party with a mind blast. Getting Ulfrik to be his thrall had cost Kay’Lotha quite a few favors and many promises of future service. He had likely overpaid considerably for Ulfrik, but it was well worth it. Preserving Ulfrik’s mind while also ensuring his obedience had been quite tricky but Kay’Lotha had done it, and that had also been worth it. Kay’Lotha needed to be able to pick Ulfrik’s mind and thoughts at will after all in order to understand and fully utilize the other thing he had gotten from Ulfrik, his most prized of all possessions.
As his most favored duergar worked, Kay’Lotha studied what she had made. The work was almost complete. The twelve-inch-tall statue was a true work of art. Carved from obsidian it showed Ulfrik, leg raised in mid step, nose buried in a book, quill in hand ready to make some note or alteration. The perfect image of the scholar on the move. And excellent likeness of the man.
The duergar had captured every detail of the man. The rumples of his clothes, the lines on his face, the outline of his muscles even the very bounce in the step he was about to take. If Kay’Lotha could shrink Ulfrik down and change his skin to black, there would be no way to tell him apart from the statue. It was perfect. Some might have called it a waste of time to make a thrall stand in place for thirteen hours just for a sculpture to be made. Not Kay’Lotha though, he knew that real works of art required real commitment.
Kay’Lotha looked up at Ulfrik where he held the pose, caught in mid step. His muscles burned, his throat was parched, his brain fuzzy from how little he had dared to breathe as the duergar worked. Just as Kay’Lotha had ordered him. He would be in no small bit of agony if Kay’Lotha hadn’t thought to suppress his mind and shut down his nerves, but Kay’Lotha had never seen any reason why his thralls should be made to suffer needlessly.
As Kay’Lotha continued to relax and enjoy this simple quiet moment, the duergar finished her work and handed over the statue for him to inspect. It was flawless, one of her greatest works. Exactly the kind of quality he expected from her. Maybe even a bit beyond that. Kay’Lotha released Ulfrik from his paralysis and allowed his satisfaction to flood the minds of both his thralls. They both collapsed to the ground, their primitive brains overwhelmed with that alien emotion of pleasure as they reveled in how well they had served their master.
Kay’Lotha left them to their “joy” and moved over to his mantle place to compare this latest work to the very best that his duergar had ever made. As he had surmised, this piece was more than good enough to stand in his personal collection. It was a shame he had already promised this work to one of the commanders in exchange for a spot on the next surface mission. Perhaps he should set her to work making another to send in this one’s place? No. No his duergar always worked her best when she was given a few days to rest between art pieces. And Kay’Lotha needed Ulfrik in top shape to join him on that mission. There was so much to do to get the hated Githyanki away from the colony and much honor and prestige to be earned in the work. That was more important than keeping one piece in his private collection. Too bad.
Kay’Lotha felt a small disturbance in the pleasure of his duergar thrall. He commanded her to speak her mind. He would know what was troubling her and deal with it. His thralls need not suffer so long as he could do anything about it.
“Master?” She said, pulling herself into a humble bow. “If I’ve pleased you, might you consider seeking out my son and bringing him into your service? I know he could serv—”
She got no further as Kay’Lotha seized the thought from her head and tore it away. She immediately forgot about her son and slipped back into her mind numbing “pleasure.” It was her one failing and sadly there was nothing Kay’Lotha could do about it.
Her son had been captured with her in that raid that first brought her to the colony. Kay’Lotha had ignored the boy when he took her into his service. Children were less than useless to the colony. They contributed nothing, were almost impossible to keep satisfied and can constantly pulled at the attention of other thralls. Better to let more primitive societies around them deal with the trouble of producing and raising new thralls for them to take later. Children had no place in an Illithid colony.
Doubtlessly by now the boy had long since been eaten. Immature minds could be just as sustaining as adult ones were after all. It would’ve been the only use the colony could’ve put him to. Nevertheless, like clockwork, every few weeks the duergar remembered her child and asked after him. It was simply annoying.
Kay’Lotha would’ve scoured all memory of the boy from his thrall’s mind except she had first learned to carve stone to make gifts for the boy. Erasing those memories might well disrupt her ability to carve such perfect statues and figurines. It wasn’t worth the risk. Still, it irked him that something so trivial and unimportant should disturb one of his thralls from time to time. Especially when she should be finding a deeper satisfaction in having effectively served him. What a bother.
Before Kay’Lotha could settle his mind back to its own satisfied state the Elder Brain touched him. He was summoned to the quarters of the Ulitharid. Kay’Lotha dared not tarry, but he did pause to consider for a moment. If he was wanted, then it was likely his other services might be needed as well. He doubted the Ulitharid would want his thrall to make him a statue. So before leaving, Kay’Lotha moved a few of the statues on his mantle around until there was a soft click and a hidden compartment could be accessed.
From within Kay’Lotha removed his most prized possession. The spell book he had taken from Ulfrik after defeating him. In it was everything that Kay’Lotha had learned about magic and the arcane. He slipped into a bag he carried, underneath a jumble of other useful things so no one could guess what it was. Then he was off.
Kay’Lotha made his way through the chambers and halls of the colony as swiftly as he could. He passed by many other Illithids and their thralls all of which he ignored. Normally he might have paused to repay the occasional sneer that others who knew what he was, but he was summoned to the presence of the Ulitharid on business of the Elder Brain, he dared not delay any more than he had. One or two moved to block his path no doubt with some snide comment on their tongues or perhaps with some bargain or scheme they might wish to put into action. But they both stopped suddenly and came no closer. Likely the Elder Brain had told them their business could wait until after Kay’Lotha was done serving the colony.
Before long he appeared in the chambers of the Ulitharid. He bowed his head in submission to this greater being. When he felt the Ulitharid’s permission he rose and looked it in his eyes. The Enlightened Instructor, though a person with no sense of respect or gravitas might have labeled the jumble of psychic impressions that made up the Ulitharid’s name as Professor Trainer or some such rubbish, was a magnificent being. His towering noble demeanor was more than worthy of the six long and mighty tendrils that sprouted from his face. Here was a being worthy of carrying on the minds of any entire colony on his back. How any being could stand before an Ulitharid and not know they were meant to rule the universe, Kay’Lotha didn’t know.
“Have you heard of the second Ulitharid born to this colony in your lifetime?” The Enlightened Instructor demanded to know with a cold sneer of thinly veiled contempt.
“I have heard of the Surviving One.” Kay’Lotha responded. “But not much more than that he was born for hosts taken from a different world. The Elder Brain has not seen fit to inform one such as I of his mission and duties.”
The Enlightened Instructor’s mind seized hold of Kay’Lotha’s brain with sudden and violent force. With a supreme effort Kay’Lotha managed to hold in a scream of pain as the Ulitharid forced memories and ideas into his mind. This was no gentle and gradual communion with the Elder Brain to instruct and inform. This was a brutal imparting of knowledge without any concern for what it might over right and destroy in Kay’Lotha’s brain.
It was finished quickly though. And Kay’Lotha now knew of the Surviving One’s mission to infiltrate and subvert a society of ignorant sorcerers beyond the reach of the hated Githyanki. How this plan could create a safe and secure place for the empire to rise from once more. How the Elder Brain greatly desired for this plan to succeed at any cost.
“The Elder Brain demands a report from the Surviving One.” The Enlightened Instructor declared as he floated over to his shelves and removed a roll of parchment from one of them. “Take this along with two of the city guards and go fetch him.”
Kay’Lotha took the proffered scroll and bowed his way out of the room. As he drifted down to a guard post he unrolled and examined the scroll. It was, as he expected, a magic scroll of Gate. A means of freely traveling from higher and lower planes of existence, this one was altered to focus only on the ability to move to a location in the material plane, but the gateway made between where it was cast and where it would go would last much longer.
Illithids rarely relied on magic. The first empire had been founded on the power of superior psionics and would be rebuilt with the same power. Psychic power was easier and quicker to use, more flexible and powerful. Let lesser races waste their time with clumsy words, foolish hand motions while clutching bits of wood or piles of bat guano, Illithids only needed to think and the world changed.
But much had been lost and forgotten since the empire fell. So often magic could now do what psionics could not. It was to gain that power that Kay’Lotha had taken up a wizard’s spell book and broken away from the traditions of his people. And it was because that power made him quite useful that the colony tolerated his presence and his blasphemy. One day it wouldn’t, and he would be driven from the colony and forced to survive in the under dark on his own. But by then he would know enough about magic that he could pursue avenues of power unknown to any other Illithid.
Utilizing magic scrolls like this was one of the responsibilities forced on an arcanist like himself. The Ulitharid would never sully himself by stooping to use magic. Kay’Lotha was happy to do it though, it proved he still had a place in the colony and time to further his studies and amass more power.
In the guard post he had selected he found a number of drow warrior thralls. The lithe blue skinned bodies reflected the elven grace with which they could move and fight. They bowed to him as he entered with hands on their scimitars and bows. The few other Illithids in the room paid him no mind and the towering Ettin Ceremorph that came to greet him expected Kay’Lotha to bow to him.
Kay’Lotha did so. The twelve-foot-tall hulking beast of an Illithid was not a being to anger. The writhing mass of his second head that had sunk down under the skin of his chest matched the glare that his top head was sending him.
The towering forms of giants were normally beyond the ability of single tadpole to control and transform, but Ettin had two heads and two brains which two tadpoles could control together. The hulking brute was not only much stronger than any true Illithid, but it also had the psychic power to back that form up and possessed not inconsiderable intelligence. This mighty brute, Amonth, was a favored servant of the Elder Brain on top of all that. Favor that he had earned through highly successful service to the colony.
“The Elder Brain commands me to aid you arcanist.” The Ettin declared, obviously not happy about it. “Speak your need and let it be done.”
“One or two of your guards should suffice.” Kay’Lotha responded. “And whichever of your thralls is best suited for stealth. We cannot allow any clumsiness to endanger the Ulitharid’s mission.”
Amonth grunted in response, he had heard the implied insult, that he, one of the Elder Brain’s greatest servants, could not be trusted with a task a mere arcanist had been given. Antagonizing the giant was senseless, but Kay’Lotha would not allow insults to go unanswered. And Amonth dared not strike back now, not when the Elder Brain’s orders must be carried out. Instead, the hulking man turned and grunted to a pair of young guardsmen who came over and joined them.
Kay’Lotha had never met Uljin or Glaycin, there were total strangers to him. But that didn’t matter. All three of them were joined to the Elder Brain. The moment either came close to Kay’Lotha he was told everything he needed to know about either Illithid. They were young and ambitious, brave and a little reckless. Glaycin had little respect for his elders, Uljin a deep fascination with the traditions of their ancestors. That might cause some friction, but neither would step out of line.
Better yet, both young ones were excited to get to work with an arcanist. They had a healthy contempt for the power of the arcane, but they had seen what drow witches and sorcerers could accomplish in battle and would see what a member of a more enlightened race could do. Kay’Lotha could work with that.
Along with the two Illithids came a half dozen or so drow thralls. The three Illithids quickly linked them to their own minds. Kay’Lotha had always preferred more intellectual thralls so these battle thralls who had everything but their prowess for fighting and their obedience to the colony burned from their minds seemed uncouth to him. He allowed the other two to control the majority of them.
With his party assembled, Kay’Lotha drew his scroll and set to work. The opening to the portal would be safest here in the guard post, so any uncivilized or monstrous brute forced its way in the guards here could swiftly dispatch it. The destination Kay’Lotha desired was a small forest on the edge of a local settlement on another world.
With swift motions of his hands, the uttering of arcane words and other subtle motions that the scroll called for, Kay’Lotha activated the scroll’s power. After only a few seconds of work a shining white rectangle opened in the air. A hole in the very fabric of the plains themselves connecting two distant worlds. The scroll caught fire and all but vanished into a cloud of ash as the magic power coursed through it. But the gate itself would last more than an hour.
The drow leapt through the gate as soon as it formed. The three Illithids followed through shortly afterwards. Kay’Lotha’s vision went white as he passed through the gate, and then faded to the colors of a simple forest shrouded in the dead of night. The drow were already spreading out around them in a defensive pattern, the other two Illithids stood at his side.
All three of them froze and shivered for a moment. The psychic power of the Elder Brain could not cross the arcane gateway. Though they were only a step or two away from their homes they were also untold millions of miles distant. Beyond the reach of their master’s power, all three now possessed completely free minds.
The experience was not completely alien to any of them. All of them had journeyed beyond the reach of the Elder Brain before on missions and raids. It was never a pleasant experience though; the loss of that absolute presence was disheartening. Worse, the connections that existed between their minds became more tenuous, held only by their own wills rather than being enforced by the Elder Brain. Kay’Lotha could cut himself off from the others with a thought, and he could now only see the parts of their minds they chose to show him.
Either could sever their connection to him, and then immediately betray him. They might already be planning how they might kill him and steal his spell book to take its power for themselves. Or they might be plotting about how to get him killed to rid the colony of a blasphemous embarrassment and thus curry favor with the Elder Brain. Kay’Lotha seized control of the situation to keep the other two under his thumb.
“Hold the perimeter for now.” He ordered. “I will find the Ulitharid.”
With a few swift movements and a spoken command in the so-called common tongue, Kay’Lotha cast a spell. He covered one of his as a large invisible magical sphere appeared in the air overhead. With it he could scan the horizon to see which way would lead to this town of Little Whinging where the Ulitharid was waiting.
Fortunately, the forest was not so vast, Kay’Lotha could clearly see the surrounding settlements. Many homes of oddly paneled wood stretched around him. Several villages worth of homes all oddly clustered together. Humans seemed to make up the majority of not the totality of the local population. Strangely Kay’Lotha could see no farmland, nor the common spaces and maker places that he would expect in a developed settlement. It was as if all the locals did was sleep here.
Near the edge of his vision, he spotted the home that the Enlightened Instructor had described to him from the Ulitharid’s memories. Strange, it seemed so very small and insignificant. How could the Ulitharid stand to live there with the sun so near and so constant? How could he remain so exposed to the locals?
Before Kay’Lotha could question things further he sensed a powerful psychic presence reach out to him. Something had sensed his spell work and was seeking them out. Kay’Lotha canceled his spell and prepared to warn the others when he felt it touch him. The mind wasn’t one he had ever encountered before, but it was doubtlessly an Illithids. It curled and twisted around them all, feeling the shape of their minds, measuring the extent of their power. “Wait there.” It demanded and then withdrew.
“Was that the Ulitharid?” Uljin asked.
“It was certainly strong enough to be.” Kay’Lotha noted it. Brazen enough as well he added in the privacy of his own head. The Ulitharid must have been casting its thoughts far and wide of have sensed his magic from such a distance. An unthinkable risk back in the colony where Githyanki patrols prowled, priestess of Loth spied, and other nameless horrors hunted in the endless dark. The Ulitharid obviously felt it was the sole and absolute master of this domain.
The party waited where they were. The terrain was easy to defend and the way back to their homes was right there. If something hostile was coming, they would have the easiest time dealing with it here. They did not have to wait long.
They did not feel the Ulitharid’s mind until just before it entered the clearing. It had clearly been hiding itself until it came near, because all of a sudden, its thoughts were all around them. Certainly, they felt the power of a mind on par with a Ulitharid. But the body that came into view was not what they expected. It seemed to just be a black-haired human youth. Admittedly they were hovering over the ground as they used their psionic might to glide silently through the forest, but other than that they bore no resemblance to any Illithid.
Glaycin sneered and rose up to meet the intruder. “What insult is this?” He asked the world at large. “We came to summon the Ulitharid not be commanded by some chi—”
The Ulitharid lashed out with vicious force. His thoughts sharpened to a knife edge and then sliced through Glaycin’s mental defenses. His mind was seized like a terrier taking a rat, shaken and thrown about until the Illithid was left stunned and defenseless. The Ulitharid pulled his every thought and memory from his mind and pursued them with a casual leisure. Satisfied with what it learned, he put the Illithid back together, but he also threw him to the ground and forcibly moved his limbs until he had prostrated himself in humble humiliation.
Whatever the boy’s form might be, there could be no doubt that this was an Ulitharid standing before them. Though less than a year old he was every bit as formidable as the Enlightened Instructor, and so far above Kay’Lotha that it would not only be hopeless but sacrilegious to resist him. Kay’Lotha and Uljin both bowed at the hip and commanded the drow to drop to their knees.
The Ulitharid touched Kay’Lotha’s mind, and he immediately surrendered himself up to his lord’s inspection. Fortunately, the Ulitharid was far more gentle in inspecting his mind, he had already made his point. The Ulitharid pauses to linger on his memories of gaining a spell book, but rather than disgust, Kay’Lotha sensed a passing sense of approval from the Ulitharid.
That wasn’t at all what Kay’Lotha had expected. The Ulitharid sensed his surprise and Kay’Lotha in turn felt something even more unexpected. A strange kind of satisfaction that the world was not as either of them had expected. In a lesser being Kay’Lotha would’ve called it humor. But surely that was impossible for an Ulitharid to experience. And indeed, as soon as Kay’Lotha had thought he sensed it the strange emotion was gone. He had no idea what to make of any of it. He must’ve been mistaken. Overwhelmed by the presence of an Ulitharid he was imagining things.
“Why are you here?” The Ulitharid asked after he was done examining Kay’Lotha’s most basic memories. “I warned the Elder Brian that any other Illithid that came here could threaten to disrupt my mission.”
“The Elder Brain wishes to receive a report of your actions.” Kay’Lotha responded. “We have been bidden to escort you back, great master.”
“Very well.” The Ulitharid responded. “Lead the way.”
They left Glaycin behind with the drow to defend the portal from this side and quickly made their way back to the colony. Kay’Lotha felt profound relief to be back under the control of the Elder Brain and was all but delighted to feel its satisfaction that the Ulitharid had returned with them. The Ettin and all the other guards in the outpost bowed low to the Ulitharid as they felt the Elder Brain declare his identity. The Ulitharid hardly noticed them.
They made their way swiftly through the colony to reach the Elder Brain’s brine tank at its highest point. The Enlightened Instructor was there to meet them. Kay’Lotha bowed to the three masters of the colony and stood back to the side. No one told him to leave so he lingered, curious about what such greater beings might have to say to one another.
“Eternal Survivor.” The Enlightened Instructor greeted his fellow Ulitharid. “You have returned to us in one piece and in good health. Good. The Elder Brain is most excited to hear a report of your doings. Has the Empire’s return been advanced?”
The Eternal Survivor gave a report of all he had done in the past year. It was very impressive. How skillfully he had won the sympathy and approval of these so-called wizards. How effortlessly he had integrated back into the life of his host with none the wiser of his true intentions. How he had once more proved himself a hero and wise leader to those that were best able to speed his path to power and influence. And most impressively of all to Kay’Lotha, how he had secured access to a cast library of arcane secrets and knowledge. Any Illithid would salivate at the thought of such access to so much closely guarded knowledge, but Kay’Lotha most of all since he knew the value of magic.
And wasn’t that an astounding thing? An Ulitharid who was willing to wield arcane magic? True, it was in the name of restoring the Empire on a world beyond the reach of the Githyanki menace. Very little sacrifice and risk wasn’t worth such a prize. But it was highly surprising, nonetheless. It opened intriguing possibilities.
Illithids had no souls, no afterlife awaited them upon death. They didn’t need them. When an Illithid died its brain was recovered and placed in the brine tank of an Elder Brain. Their memories and personalities would then be absorbed into the Elder Brain to exist as part of it for the rest of time. In death an Illithid didn’t ascend to a higher or lower plain of existence to be the plaything of some god or devil, they instead became part of something truly greater than themselves. The living will of the colony, and eventually the eternal will of the Empire restored.
But no Elder Brain would want to join with an arcanist, would accept a blasphemer into that eternal oneness. Kay’Lotha had damned himself the moment he took up that spell book. That was fine with him, he would gladly exchange a possible eternal reward for immediate advancement and power. Plus, the arcane opened alternative paths to immortality.
But an Ulitharid arcanist might be willing to allow one such as Kay’Lotha into his eternal embrace. And this Eternal Survivor seemed well named, the best chance Kay’Lotha had ever heard of restoring the Empire. Kay’Lotha might have turned his back on the ideals of his people, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take comfort from the communion he found in the colony. Even if the Eternal Survivor was only slightly more willing to tolerate the presence of an arcanist than most that would mean years, perhaps decades more to remain amongst his people. Kay’Lotha was desperately tempted by such a prospect. He would have to find some way into this Ulitharid’s good graces.
“And these thralls remain loyal to you even with most of their minds intact?” The Enlightened Instructor questioned as the Eternal Survivor finished his report.
“Since they thought I was offering them power they accepted my bond willingly.” The Eternal Survivor confirmed. “Now they cannot escape it or defy me. I have had to disabuse them of some notions since, but they still see me as their own path to greater power. They are committed to my goals and my survival.”
“Good.” The Enlightened Instructor confirmed with satisfaction. “You have done well. Everything is proceeding as we had hoped. I would wish to give you equally good news of how the colony has thrived in your absence but there is at least one troubling matter to report. While Githyanki patrols have been led away from the colony and there is little immediate risk here, the other colonies have grown restless over how close their patrols have come to us. The major concern was over our nautiloid, it was truly priceless and irreplaceable. It could not be risked with the Githyanki nearby, so it was moved to another colony until the crisis has passed.”
“Without it though, we have lost our ability to reinforce you should your mission be compromised.” The Enlightened Instructor continued. “Thus, we need some other means of reliably moving Illithids to this world of yours. Spell scrolls have some use in this regard as you have seen, but they are expensive and difficult to procure. An alternative has been decided upon. Our arcanist, whom you have just met, has prepared a teleportation circle here in the colony. You must find a suitable location to place a sister circle in your world. This will allow us to freely move Illithids from our colony to your secure location at will.”
“That may take some effort.” The Eternal Survivor answered. “But the will of the Elder Brain will be done. How am I to prepare this teleportation circle?”
“The arcanist will take care of the actual work.” The Enlightened Instructor said. Kay’Lotha felt a deep sense of satisfaction fill him. This would be his in with the Eternal Survivor. He could easily prove his worth with such a task. Normally making a teleportation circle permanent requires a year of work and many valuable reagents. But Kay’Lotha had found a way to anchor the circle with Qualith runes in half the time at a fraction of the cost. The Eternal Survivor would be well pleased with his work, and Kay’Lotha would have plenty of time to test the Eternal Survivor’s knowledge of the arcane and if he truly approved of such unorthodox approaches to power.
“Then all I need is to find a safe place for him to work.” The Eternal Survivor surmised. “It will be done, but it will take time. How do I contact you when I am ready for him?”
“Bend your thoughts like so.” The Enlightened Instructor demonstrated. “And focus on the Elder Brain. Your thoughts cannot fail to find us no matter the distance they must cross. Be sure to send the message from the safe place you’ll have found. The Elder Brain will send the arcanist directly there.”
Their business concluded Kay’Lotha soon escorted the Ulitharid back to the portal. Once he had departed Kay’Lotha rushed back to his home. He found his thralls in much the same state as he had left them. Well, that was no matter they were still recovering from a great labor after all.
“Master?” Ulfrik asked from where he lay on the ground, his muscles in no shape to move himself about even to greet his master. “What has you in such a good mood? Was our work truly so good?”
“I think I have come as close as is possible to knowing your human feeling of happiness.” Kay’Lotha told Ulfrik who felt astounded by such a thought. Kay’Lotha wrapped him and his favorite duergar up in flows of psychic power and lifted them both up onto his couch so they could relax more comfortably. “My very favorite thralls have accomplished a perfect work for me. I have proved my worth once more to the colony and exciting new possibilities have been opened for the future. Are you up for a conversation right now Ulfrik or do you need to rest?”
“My limbs may ache, but my mind is sharp.” Ulfrik answered overjoyed by how carefully his master was treating him. “What do you want to speak of?”
“Tell me in detail, what was it like going to a magic school?” Kay’lotha listened carefully and made his plans for the future.
Author’s Note: Thus concludes Harry’s third year. The longest story I have written to date and one of the few to reach something of an ending. This has also been a departure from my more usual style since I’m writing almost solely from a single perspective, normally I prefer to either have an omniscient narrator or to write many different chapters from different point of view characters, hence the selection of interludes in this chapter.
It has been a fun experience writing this story so far and I don’t think I’m done with it yet. I greatly appreciate everyone that has reviewed or commented on the story, your advice, critique and little smiley faces have been most welcomed.
I am debating on whether I should start a new story for the events of Harry’s next year or if I should keep pressing forward with this one. If you have any opinions on that subject I would love to know them. If I do decide to start a new story, I will post an update chapter here with that story’s new name so those that have arranged to receive alerts about our progress here will know where to go next.
I hope you all have enjoyed reading.
