Capítulo 57: C057 - Confrontations & Dreams of Heimdall

I might have chosen to be lonely for the moment. But I reminded myself that it was for a purpose. I'd worry the few who cared over my whereabouts, but I still decided to sleep in the RoR for today to not be confronted by anybody, especially Harry.

So, instead, I opened another book from the Black Library. A tome about crafting and enchanting. Entirely focused on 'just' heir and lordship rings.

True Lord Rings of ancient houses were absolute marvels of magics. I was quite keen to find out how they were created, even if most of the enchanting would go over my head for now.

I just hoped that my Occlumency would do its trick again and give me another moment of clarity where I suddenly understood an entire magical topic as all prior knowledge suddenly snapped into place inside my mind. I just needed to read more books for it to happen.

It wasn't going to be today, though. My head was killing me for some reason.

"Patrick," I called out after getting ready to go to bed with some spells. The bed was already provided by the room.

"Yes?"

"How successful were you in keeping the women inside the brothel safe?"

"Nobody has touched them since you ordered Patrick to intervene. The owner still doesn't know because Patrick killed the old lady at the counter. She cannot report anything to the owner now," the elf explained patiently.

"Was killing her the only option?" I asked in exasperation.

"No. But it was the logical option," Patrick proudly answered.

"I see... the land around the shack. Is it bought yet?"

"Yes. Mister Glassner was very quick with it. He buys more land every day. The town ownership in total will take some time, though, he said. He knows which pockets to stuff full of money, but it is still an entire town, he argued."

I thought about it for a moment before I ordered, "The muggle houses in the village. Use the three new elves over the course of the next month to make those I already own hospitable. Furnish them and charm a few muggle plumbers from the surroundings to make sure the water works. When it comes to it, bring the women in the brothel to Goldsborough to escape. Provide them with food and protect them from anybody who comes. But don't tell them my name or let anyone near the shack. I put up a ward to turn away even magicals, but I don't want it to get discovered or destroyed over some weird coincidence. Especially with Ratlord Voldemort there."

"They are not right in their head. They will need someone to look after them and heal their minds," Patrick pointed out in a rare form of compassion and insight.

"Wait a moment," I ordered after a short deliberation since I recognized the truth behind Patrick's words and started writing a letter with gritted teeth. Several moments later, I handed it over and instructed, "If they truly cannot live without help, I allow you to bring this letter to Lord Sirius Black at 12 Grimmauld Palace in London. Bring it personally. Tell him I invoke my debt of life. He will know the rest from this letter."

It hurt a little knowing that I would use up the debt, but it would be for a good cause. Sirius' cousin Andromeda might help if I simply asked myself. But I could only guarantee her secrecy on the matter if I had Sirius demand an oath of silence from her with the debt as a bargaining chip. I had nothing else on the witch and I didn't want to have people knowing about my plans for Goldsborough yet - even if the freed women would know nothing.

Plus, I asked Sirius to pay for the healing in the letter. Even if they had to buy a mind healer's time and have him come from distant lands to do his work. Those professionals were bound by oaths to keep secrets anyway once their services were asked for.

"Anything else?"

I looked at my elf for a moment and ordered, "Get some more sleep. You did a lot of traveling these past few days. I need you fit and capable if you want to do a good job teaching the three newcomers. Don't teach the three to run themselves ragged."

"I understand," the elf said and bowed as he disappeared with a pop.

"Did he just say 'I'?" I asked nobody as I stared incredulously at the spot where Patrick stood moments before. I had never heard an elf refer to himself as I before...

-----

In my dreams, I saw Heimdall for the first time in a long while. Those dreams of 'regular human assassins' had long since bled through into my muscle memory. My physique allowed me to effortlessly parkour through London like a phantom just like them - no house wasn't scaled in mere seconds if I so wished.

The one time I visited Sir Frye during the summer, I stayed for three days and sparred with his apprentices the entire time. Both women and the butler were no longer able to beat me one-on-one in close quarter combat despite their vast experience and own pretty much superhuman capabilities. Only as two or even as three were they able to beat me black and blue.

So it came as a surprise when I watched Heimdall hunt with a supernatural looking spear. The spear itself looked to be made entirely out of metal, yet at the same time it looked almost fluid as it felled beast after beast.

Once his hunt was done, Heimdall appeared back at his dwelling. Something I had seen before. A huge tower on a lone island near the coast of a huge piece of land. He was the Aesir's watch man. A guardian. A god of foresight, protection, and war.

The tower was a marvel of rustic stone and sleek technology that I didn't comprehend in the slightest. So it came as a surprise to me when I heard Heimdall talk for the first time. The first time I truly heard sounds in a dream.

He tapped something on a screen and instead of runes, three forms appeared in front of him on a screen. A triangle. A circle. A simply vertical line.

Slowly, they moved to be above one another as they formed what I knew to be the symbol of the Peverell family. The three Deathly Hallows.

"Whoever you are, you are of my line. I can feel it. I see death following you, but you seem to run from it. I saw this symbol in your future, a connection to death in your time," Heimdall monologued and pointed to the triangle, "This is a piece of the Shroud. Originally, it should have been able to heal anyone who is close to dying. One of the mightiest pieces of Eden if used by the right people."

Heimdall solemnly pointed to the circle and explained, "A piece of the Ankh. Originally created by the loathsome Isu of the Ennead, it could raise the dead. It is a good thing that it was destroyed. All those who are ressurected with its power are no longer who they once were when they come back from beyond the pale. Don't seek this piece out in an effort to make it whole."

Finally, the Aesir pointed at the line and revealed, "A shard of the mighty sword Excalibur. The Line Ender, it was once called. I am the most puzzled about seeing this particular piece of Eden in your future. The sword was made by one of the other pantheons long before my birth and even now, it is said to be lost. Its power said to be too strong for the others to tolerate. Since you seem to carry my blood, it should serve as a formidable weapon in your hands. Seek it out. It will help you in whatever you plan to do."

-----

I woke up with disbelief written all over my face. Heimdall just revealed to me what Pieces of Eden were, and how even mere broken off parts of them were apparently reforged to become mythical artifacts that were famed all over the magical world, Magical Britain most of all. If what Heimdall said was true... I could claim the Deathly Hallows as my own?

Well, it depended on how many other people were like me, dreaming about some far away Isu god who was their ancestor, apparently. I knew it couldn't be many. If Harry wasn't a descendant of an Isu like Heimdall, it looked like the Peverell brothers were simply lucky as they reforged these items into what they were today.

Getting out of bed felt like a chore, my head still hurt like last night. After freshening up and making my way downstairs, I entered the Great Hall just before the owl mail would arrive. It was Sunday, and only about half of the grand room was filled.

The moment I entered, I saw a bunch of people point at me and whisper. Only Ravenclaws were oddly subdued in their reaction to my presence. Flitwick's speech and my own seemed to have done their part.

Looking for Luna and finding her sitting with Hermione and Lara, I made my way to them.

"Good morning," I greeted as I sat down next to Lara.

"You look well rested for someone who should have lost quite a bit of sleep," Lara quipped but her banter was cut short when Hermione indignantly whispered - though loud enough for everybody to hear, "Where were you all day yesterday? We were so worried! After dinner, we even looked for Professor Flitwick to ask for your whereabouts, but he just reassured us that you wanted to be left alone. When Isobel and Padma finally pressed Lisa to ask Harry, he told us you haven't been in your room all day either!"

"Sounds complicated. I just didn't want to see anybody," I answered with a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't my intention to worry you or anyone else, though."

Just as Luna asked a question about the whereabouts of my elf - which shocked me a little - Draco Malfoy made his way over with his two large bookends. He truly never learned. But since I made myself scarce yesterday so that his buffoonery could be lifted to new heights just before the Daily Prophet would show up with my interview after our verbal 'battle', the blonde idiot had little choice.

"Hey, Macnair! Where have you been all day yesterday?" Draco loudly asked to gather the attention of even the last person not paying attention to me. His habitual, superior sneer looked oddly angry already.

"I know you're into men, but I am not. So it wasn't my understanding that we were a couple who shared such details. Therefore, I don't mean to be rude, I don't think I owe you an explanation of my whereabouts?"

His face slowly flickered with more rage, but he didn't fall for my trap as he breathed out angrily before countering, "Don't try to befuddle our minds with empty words and jokes! We deserve to know where you are so that all of us can sleep better! Who knows what someone born from your father's loins is able to do!"

A few furious murmurs rang through the room, and somehow, none of the professors present stood up to intervene. Flitwick, Sprout, Babbling, and Hagrid, who I thought of as allies, weren't present either.

"Well. I might be my father's son, and my father was in the inner circle of the Death Eaters, but I have never been in his presence for even a second. Your father and your grandfather, on the other hand, have used up their entire willpower and efforts to raise you into a completely brainless clown of a wizard."

I didn't know why Draco even bothered with these arguments. Lucius helped him come up with that? Did Lucius think I wouldn't answer such a dig at my roots by simply pointing out that Lucius was a Death Eater too?

"My noble grandfather was never tried, and my father was pronounced innocent. It is your father who spent over a decade in Azkaban for his crimes!" Draco pointed out angrily, and I looked at him weirdly. Was he trying to win this verbal spar for me?

"Okay? Is that your argument? That my father was a brainless clown same as you, and didn't use the corrupt Wizengamot to influence his trial and instead proudly proclaimed to be a loyal, sniveling, low-life servant of the dark lord? That he is way dumber than your cunning coward of a father who weaseled his way back into our society when it is clear for everybody to see that he didn't spend an entire war under the Imperius curse?"

Draco seemed to struggle under the rage he was feeling, and I had to wonder. When Lucius threatened me after class this one time last year, I didn't back down. I threatened him back by pointing out a big flaw in his plans to get the Black inheritence. Did those two morons think I would wilt under these accusations and just run out of the room crying?

"My father did no such thing!" Draco spat under his breath.

"So he really was put under the Imperius Curse for an entire war? The corrupt idiots on the Wizengamot were right to believe that ridiculous excuse? Lucius is so weak-willed that he wasn't able to fight off the curse for a decade? Boy, do I hope you get your genes from your honorable mother instead. Malfoy blood sounds like weak piss, honestly," I countered and watched Draco pull out his wand with glee. It was weird. I wasn't usually this confrontational. My headache worsened a little, too.

Sadly, before he could cast a spell in my direction with half the school watching, his godfather appeared behind him with hurried steps and snatched the wand out of Draco's hands.

"Thirty points from Ravenclaw for your distasteful accusations and foul mouth. Sadly, any detention I will give you simply results in more training for you under the protection of Filius," Snape proclaimed with his usual sneer.

"Oh yeah? Weren't you a Death Eater, too? My mom's notes said so, and she was a noble spy among your kind. No wonder you stand up for Lucius when you know I'm right. You two are close enough for you to be made this idiot's godfather. So either you know Lucius lied since you were there, or you know he is a weak slug with no willpower. Tell us then, professor, which one is it?"

Flitwick told me he would pull me out of Hogwarts if something like this happened. So I didn't stop myself from clapping back. I was oddly at ease burning these bridges. But Snape didn't deserve my respect. He never did anything that would warrant it.

The potions professor was ready to draw his wand on me for my audacity as he was about to lose his temper. I was keen to find out if my current prowess in dueling would allow me to fight someone of Snape's caliber already. He was only stopped when Dumbledore suddenly entered the Great Hall and loudly ordered with a tight frown, "Stand down, Severus. I am very disappointed in you, Talion. Please follow me to my office so that we may talk about your punishment!"

"My punishment? Where is Draco's? Where is Professor Snape's? One tried to curse me at the breakfast table after coming here to taunt me with my father's identity, the other defended the stupid git in the most biased attempt for Slytherin to win the house cup once more and he was about to draw a wand on me, too! We both know Snape was a Death Eater, yet when my father's name was revealed, he didn't say a word about how my mother was killed by their kind because of her actions. How she was used as a breeding pig for the digusting piece of shit I have to endure calling my father! Instead he has the nerve to stand here and sneer in my general direction and defend his own family!"

"There's no need to make this a scene, Talion," Dumbledore chided as he lost his usual grandfatherly demeanor entirely.

"Oh, I very much doubt it isn't," Flitwick said as he appeared behind the headmaster. "I told you what would happen if someone spoke to Talion about his father this way. And of all the people to have Draco Malfoy be the one to have the audacity to do so, I would laugh if I wasn't so furious. Talion, with me! We're writing letters to the other schools!"

As I stood up after giving the girls next to me a short bow, I walked past Snape and spat at his shoes. I didn't know why I did it, but it felt really nice. My headache was lessening a little. I really did take too much shit from the man last year, and it was all boiling now after that stupid article came to be. I was supposed to be distant son of a war god, and I endured some petty bat cosplayer to ruin my day weekly last year. No more.

... stupid teenage hormones. Or was it something else? This headache... I should meditate to see if the horcrux managed to do something to me.

Walking past the headmaster who just stood there in quiet contemplation with no emotion shown on his face, I heard the owls enter the Great Hall. The timing was perfect. With such a scene just before it arrived, my article would have a huge impact on the students and some of the less biased staff.

-----

'The real truth behind Talion Macnair's birth' and 'Selena Macnair: A silent war hero?'

Those were the articles Rita Skeeter was allowed to have printed today, and I was busy browsing the newspaper with Flitwick in his office when we heard a knock on the door.

McGonagall entered without Flitwick saying anything. She sat in front of my professor's desk, heavily placed down a bottle of firewhiskey, shot me a small glare, and poured a glass for Flitwick and herself.

"Yer not yet a true adult," McGonagall argued as she stared at me and downed the small drink she had poured before filling the glass again.

"What brings you here, Minerva?" Flitwick asked in amusement. He pointed to his glass and argued, "It isn't even lunch yet."

"Aye. But it feels like a day for an early drink," the cat animagus argued as she slowly nursed her drink and intently watched the newspaper on Flitwick's desk. Eventually, she turned to me and asked, "What will make ye stay 'ere, lad? Hogwarts hasn't lost a student like this in ages, not even during the war. We won't be startin' with one of the brightest we have."

"Ideally I want to learn potions under a different professor and never have to see Draco again," I argued but shrugged and continued, "But that isn't happening unless I can do my potions exams at the ministry and learn on my own."

"That last bit can be arranged, though know that ye will be slighting Severus quite heavily," McGonagall revealed with a small frown.

"As if he hasn't already offended me beyond what a student should be able to endure. Pardon my French, but Professor Snape is a horrible teacher and a terrible human being altogether," I said as I felt emboldened by my recent recklessness and McGonagall's attitude.

"He could be taking his role as a professor a little more seriously," the transfiguration professor agreed with a solemn frown instead of rebuking me after downing another glass of firewhiskey. Looking me up and down for a moment to take my measure, she continued, "That has always been yer right. The exam thing. I'll have Filius fill out the paperwork that sees ye free from Professor Snape's class. But yer free periods will have to be supervised by a willing prefect or staff member. What can I do to keep ye at the school?"

Going for broke, I thought about it for a moment and pulled out the book by the tarzan author out of my pouch by casting Accio 'Beast Within' under the impressed looks of both professors. It wasn't the most impressive magic I demonstrated in front of the two of them thus far, but the spell was one of the more complicated taught in the fourth year. Handing over the book, I proposed to McGonagall a deal I hoped she would agree to. It would remove the remaining risk I couldn't completely get rid of on my own.

"I'd like you to tutor me in the arts of animagus. Even without your help, I'd still try to complete it this school year. Your help would be appreciated, but it would be just for safety's sake."

"It is usually something one should only try with a deep understanding of animate-to-animate and human transfiguration. A seventh year N.E.W.T. level topic," McGonagall argued weakly as she browsed the book. It looked like it wasn't her first time reading it.

"Then please start there. I'm quarter Gamp. I should be able to get it quite quickly," I replied with a pleased grin as I gave McGonagall a thumbs up.