บท 16: Turning Point III
(Brief AN: I'll never get around to crosspost everything, but you can check out my other works under CloudNineStories on ff.net or AO3)
I was sitting on a transfigured bench in a hidden, underground chamber that I had dug under the cellar of Marie and Paul's home, staring aimlessly at the silver-lined cages that isolated the two muggleborns I had saved: "We're almost there." I warned the duo, receiving a distasteful, heavy frown from the man and a grimace that should have been a smile from the woman.
The room was scarcely illuminated by a few vials containing one of my brews of sunlight: I was trying to discern if that was capable of influencing, even minimally, the imminent werewolf transformation. Since the first summer I had ventured out into the wider world, along with my constant and neverending experimentation with potions, my ever-increasing number of projects, and the busy task of filtering the notes that I made available in the Runda, I had been trying to figure out lycanthropy.
Of course, general information on that was easy enough to come by, and the Restricted Section had a number of tomes listing the disastrous failures to either restrain, isolate, or control werewolves made before my time. I had devoured that knowledge, framing the concepts and ideas into my personal understanding of how magic in general worked.
Even my knowledge of the Animagus transformation wasn't too big of a help. Several pieces, from the ritualism to the lightning storm necessary to complete that piece of magic, acted as a controlling element for the wild implicit in turning into an animal, an element that was partially summoned through the dew untouched by the human hand. Too much of the process Minerva had undergone was keyed into obtaining a final result with control as a fundamental element, and the moth chrysalis, besides being employed to act as a turning point for the transformation, was also an element that symbolized the natural progression of the insect's life. The Animagus transformation, with that in mind, was a part of the wizard, not something separate.
Those multitude of differences were enough to leave me high and dry when it came to applying my knowledge to the curse that was lycanthropy. Not to mention the utter insanity of a piece of magic capable of transmitting itself by bite of all things.
With what I knew, as soon as I had been able to, I had built two silver-lined cages to keep Marie and Paul contained when the full moon came knocking. The specifications matched in almost every tome that I had been able to study, and between the Room of Requirement, the rich first-year purebloods that came to Hogwarts with a pure silver cauldron and was then too scared to ask his parents for another, I had been able to obtain the pricey material.
Of course, I had also tried again and again the very first recipe I had used to close the two muggles' wounds, exploring just how strong I could make the effects of a potion focused on a 'mirrored moon', refining the process and applying it to other brews, and outright remaking several potions part of Hogwart's curriculum with different ingredients altogether.
I'm not going to share this with Slughorn in any case. The man had already proved how casual he could be in stealing the rough ideas of his students, and I wasn't eager for a repeat.
The Wolfsbane potion was something that had yet to be invented, but I couldn't exactly sit around till the end of the '70s, leaving Paul and Marie to tear through the Forest of Dean during each full moon would spell disaster in the long term.
In line with the first vague statement of Slughorn that stated 'A potion is like a story', it was indeed possible to achieve different brews that did the same things. Applying that to my line of research for a cure, meant that I could carry on two separate lines of development and discovery. It didn't quite double my chances of succeeding, but each failure offered me new insight into the curse. The potion in Marie's hand leveraged the 'mirroring effect' I was slowly discovering, while the one for Paul had been realized with an application of the knowledge I had derived from studying Polijuice and the standard Animagus transformation.
Taking a glance at the clock I had placed on one of the walls, I spoke: "Drink them now."
The two shared a fortifying breath before downing the vial I had prepared for each of them. Of course, I had changed the outside color of the glass so that it'd be opaque: I really didn't need either of the two to start questioning why one was of a deep burgundy and the other of a murky white.
An instant later, I summoned to me the two vials and twirled my wand in my fingers, the familiar warmth and thrumming, silent power making me smile fondly as I pointed the length of holly and phoenix feather at myself, my mind shifting to a concept I had grown increasingly familiar with since my first and only ritual.
Shadows were a powerful idea: cast by something as powerful as 'light', they were everpresent, and behaved mercurially in answer to the changes to the position of light sources. Shadows swam with a speed that matched the movement of the sun, the moon, the stars, and even the meanest torch or bonfire. And just as the light dispelled illusions, as I had observed by casually using Liquid Dawnbreak to find Ravenclaw's Diadem, the shadows concealed.
Just like the shadows cast at twilight on my ritual had concealed my home, birthing a tree that I was still too wary and guilty to study. Eyes turned into crystal-like orbs that shattered into black smoke without spilling a single drop of blood, a tearing sound of ripped flesh thundered in my ears as roots pierced from my father's body...
I need a drink. I shook my head, forcing myself back into the present while I held onto the awareness of shadows that I could barely grasp: "Abdo Me."
With improvised Latin lending the needed gravitas to my will, I dragged my wand in a vertical line in front of me, smoky shadows taking following the tip of holly wood in a rippling, wavy pattern. The liquid-like substance hovered in front of me for a couple of seconds, only to fall over my form with a sound of silk on silk, uncharacteristically warm as it settled over my skin.
From one moment to the next, I vanished into the shadows of the dimly lit room, the sunset brewed light close enough to twilight that my spell was almost enhanced by that. I followed with the same sequence of spells that had concealed me in Albania, when I happened so close to vampires that only Liquid Luck stopped me from outright tripping over them.
As soon as the last silencing charm fell on my form, the moon outside finished rising, and the transformation began.
There was a terrible snarling noise, followed by a keening wail that managed to send a shiver down my spine: Paul and Marie's heads were lengthening. So were bodies, and soon the transfigured clothes they were wearing sizzled and fell apart, unable to sustain the presence of the werewolves. Their shoulders grew hunched, while fuzz started to grow out of their skin, covering the inhuman features they now sported. Their limbs assumed a new configuration with the snapping of bone and the almost audible tearing of muscles. Hands and feet cured into black-clawed paws, which dug small furrows into the floor of the cages the werewolves were standing in.
I forced myself to watch like I had done so many times before, in perfect stillness, as understanding and humanity fled the two french muggles, leaving behind the inhuman need to tear, bite, and howl.
But, for the first time in the dozen or so attempts, my unerring focus was paid itself by spotting something. There was a difference between the two werewolves, Paul seemed more restrained, as even at the peak of his change, he remained hunched, his head shaking minutely as spasms kept running through his body.
The brew I had developed for him was based on what little I knew from the Wolfsbane Potion that would one day come into being: what I had attempted to do, was to surrender the change of the body to the moon's effect, focusing instead all the power that I could squeeze into the potion on the mind. I had employed the Swooping Evil's secretions that I more or less stole from Slughorn's reserves to target the wolf.
Paul's potion was meant to target exclusively the wolf's mind, if a distinction could be made, and to more or less 'obliviate' the wild need for violence that characterized the werewolf. I really need to study the Shadow Tree that hides my home, maybe the leaves can be leveraged to 'hide' the beast from the body, leaving control to Paul.
I swallowed hollowly at the reminder that I still knew almost nothing about what I had accomplished with the metamorphosis of Hagrid's dying father, once more casting the thought aside in order to focus on the here and now.
While Marie's form howled to the ceiling without purpose, as it usually did, something in Paul was fighting the change. That creature was spasming, hunched on all fours while its head rolled aimlessly, snarling furiously as it stumbled. As if a string under too much strain, Paul suddenly snapped, and a ripple of primal fury could be heard in the haunting howl that followed.
Whatever opposition my brew had managed to muster against the change, it shattered helplessly against the sheer power of the moon-empowered curse. Paul's golden eyes flashed hungrily then, the inhuman mind behind them analyzing the rest of the chamber until the beast's orbs landed on the shadows cloaking me.
And in a way that I wasn't equipped to justify, never mind understand, the werewolf spotted me: there was no transition. One moment it was still after its last challenging howl, the next it flung itself towards, me, slamming against the silver-lined cage that burned fiercely against its skin.
An almost thunderous snarl followed, and the beast started to mindlessly ram against it again and again, while Marie remained surprisingly controlled, given her conditions. Her inhuman eyes observed what her fellow werewolf was trying to accomplish, but there was no understanding in her behavior, only the distracted curiosity of an animal that didn't feel under threat when a bigger beast had a clear target.
Paul rammed itself once more against the bars, uncaring of the pain that only managed to make the werewolf more furious, and it raked its claws helplessly against the unyielding silver. A chunk of his fur sizzled, while a bunch of hair managed to fall through the bars, and quick as a viper, I summoned those to me, safely tucking them into one of the crystal vials I always carried with me.
Luckily enough, the insane magic resistance of the werewolf didn't translate to the mere hairs that he shed. Hopefully, I'd be able to use them either as ingredients or as a clue to deepen my knowledge of the curse, even if I doubted it. Besides, if I needed werewolf's hair to brew a cure, that would severely limit my ability to brew it i the first place.
Another failure. My eyes lingered on both the werewolves for a few seconds, my heart thundering with no control in my chest even if I should have been used to this shit by now. Before Paul managed to kill himself against the cage tailor-made for werewolves, I apparated away, leaving behind the hidden cellar and the forest of Dean.
I appeared with a sharp crack into a familiar clearing, and I didn't hesitate in casting once more the veritable hail of concealing charms over myself, my long legs already taking me through the Forbidden Forest at a pace that no ordinary human could follow for more than a couple of minutes. I followed the beginnings of a trail that my frequent excursions were starting to shape into the otherwise untravelled ground.
There was a visible effect in both cases this time. I reasoned even while I kept my senses peeled to catch anything untoward happening in my immediate surroundings. Marie had looked more restrained, and there had been a noticeable hitch in the final stages of Paul's transformation. Of course, then the werewolf managed to spot me despite the concealing spells I had been using for years now, and that was another problem. I need ingredients tailored for this potion in particular, but unless the leaves of the Shadow Tree prove themselves miraculous, they won't be enough for a whole cure. A Ritual? Dangerous stuff that, and I have no idea how to make Marie execute one, that isn't something I can prepare in their stead.
I walked over a root that reached my shin and ducked under a branch that I could have sworn wasn't there a moment before, but it didn't change my pace. In my experience, the beings in the forest left you alone as long as you did the same, and the full moon generally made the regular inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest more weary than aggressive. Marie looked calmer, while Paul visibly struggled with the change.
Now that I managed to obtain two effects, I simply needed to isolate the reason for the change. Hoping that their sex doesn't influence the effect of the potion, but that shouldn't be an issue. The potion I had given to Paul apparently lacked enough power to oppose the change, while the one drank by Marie seemed to lack... direction?
I had carefully avoided the use of dragon's blood in either of the brews, knowing that while it conferred a great deal of power, it was also a substance difficult to direct towards an end result that I needed to be peaceful. Dragons, beyond any other being, were synonyms with Power, a power that wasn't meant to be restrained. Maybe I should research them some more... but without direct experience, I cannot truly divine what I'd be able to do with their parts as ingredients.
"I need power." I abandoned my budding trail in order to pick up a couple of purple-black flowers that seemed to shine silver in the corner of my eye, only to walk crouched for a couple of meters as I ripped some brownish-red moss from a rock, each ingredient finding a place in the many pockets or vials present on my person. If only I could use the Lightning Storm for the Animagus process to...
I stilled as I returned on the beaten path: "But I can, can't I? If I managed to capture dawn break, what's to say I cannot capture a cyclone? Order and Power, in a single vial. Or I need to figure out cross-breeding and lead a project to give me the ingredients with the exact properties I need, but that'd take years."
Maybe this is the solution... at least for Paul. I returned to my musings while I kept picking any ingredient that didn't require me to face off with something sentient and that kept me in sight of the trail I was making with my frequent escapades in the Forbidden Forest. But what direction can I give to a werewolf in order to keep Marie from rampaging?
Once I was done ranting and raving and rambling in my head, I stole a glance at the full moon, and realized that it was low enough that my absence had likely gone unnoticed. Only as I started to cross from the edge of the Forbidden Forest onto the Hogwarts' Grounds, did I remember that tonight I'd have to make my first appearance at the Slug Club.
A disgusted groan tore itself from me while I moved towards the castle, my pace quickening ever so slightly. I disliked the idea of the brownnosing involved, but Slughorn had been far more than merely useful, and snubbing him would bite me in the ass, especially since I was sure that he knew of my 'Easy Come, Easy Go' attitude in regards to Hogwarts.
At least I could get drunk, and at the moment, I frankly wanted nothing more. Shower first, I'll think about the rest later.
So I snuck into the castle with the expertise born of endless repetition and made my way to the Slytherin Common Room, dismissing without a second thought the whispers that followed me and my 'unnaturalness' in order to take a quick shower, and change into something more appropriate for Sluggy's party. And realizing that I'd likely see little use for the werewolf hair I had picked up from Paul, at least given the direction I just decided to take the development of my brews in, I tucked the vial into an inner pocket of my robes, quickly making my way to the 'Slug Club'.
Slughorn's party was as classy as a group of gifted teenage students mingling with a professor and his guests could be. Thank the gods I'm terribly late.
The large room had been organized with tables arrayed against the walls holding delicacies of any sort, while less than extraordinary students still hoping to score a few brownie points were acting as waiters here and there. Pouring wine and whatnot. Soft chamber music ran delicately in the underground, chorusing nicely with the low murmuring of the lit fireplaces.
Ignoring the few visibly tipsy teenagers that were slowly making their way out of the Slug Club, I spotted a group counting no less than 10 heads entertaining conversation around, Slughorn himself, who was giving me his back for the time being. Of course, I spotted Tom's charming smile from across the room, and from the set of the other students' shoulders, I could tell they were hanging from his lips. He's in full-charming mode then.
"You're late!" Minerva ambushed me just as I made a note of steering clear of Riddle, as I wasn't about to ruin his little games as long as he did no harm, but I also was unwilling to bear pointless chatter.
As she often favored, the witch wore an emerald green velvety ensemble, that however managed to nod to her Gryffindor nature with an elegant measure of golden thread poking through here and there.
I didn't bother containing my grin, finally starting to feel the tension of the evening recede: "A wizard is neither early nor late, he..."
"Spare me." she interrupted me, knowing already one of my favorite quotes yet to become deservingly famous. "You missed dinner, and most of the party" the witch sniffed disdainfully at me, "many people have already gone away, I'll have you know."
"Anyone interesting?" I replied easily while I started to casually eat and drink, distractedly appreciating the quality of the food. Hunger is still the best seasoning.
"Not particularly, no." the Gryffindor witch didn't bother with hiding her exasperated sigh, "And... you haven't been in the Rùnda recently, have you?"
I enlarged one of the available delicate-looking chalices and unashamedly poured more than half of a bottle of white wine into it, sipping it with a satisfied sigh, its chill helping washing away the heated moments in which I had forced myself to remain still less than three meters from two werewolves. "I've been busy recently, why? Has something happened?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise." she grinned almost impishly then, "But we'll go together next time, I want to see your face when you see the changes I've wrought."
I didn't bother disguising my interest: for all of the average Gryffindor's love for fame and whatnot, Minerva wasn't one to toot her own horn, she preferred to remark 'I told you so' after a fact, but she felt that praising herself was beneath her.
My eyes wandered freely for the slowly emptying Slug-Club, only for my attention to fall again and again on the group of people surrounding Riddle.
"Oh, those are all members of the Duelling Club," Minerva spoke when she noted where my focus was, "I don't know why Tom is chatting with them though, I don't think he's joined them."
Yeah, Riddle isn't much of a joiner. "Hogwarts actually has a Duelling Club?"
"Has anyone mentioned that you are curiously ignorant of what happens around you?" she rounded on me without bothering disguising how hilarious she found me.
"As I recall it, yes, Minerva, you do." I huffed in faux irritation, "Rather often, in my opinion."
"It doesn't mean that I'm wrong."
"Rubeus!" Slughorn's typically jolly voice made me turn in the direction of the portly wizard, who had approached us while I was busy eating and drinking, my mind trying to figure out what my friend might have accomplished in the past days.
"Professor." I greeted him with a nod, finishing my first glass of wine and unashamedly pouring myself another.
The portly wizard shook a finger in my direction almost threateningly: "I thought you would simply ignore my invite, my boy! What held you back?"
Trying out untested potions on powerless muggles, for their own good, of course. "Potions don't wait for anyone professor." I grinned, "Brewing under certain phases of the Moon is singularly stimulating."
The Head of House Slytherin sighed then, spotting the paper-thin excuse for what it was, but he allowed me to get away with my bullshit, a part of him still eager to see what kind of new marvel I'd eventually come up with: "Well, since you're here, I wanted to introduce you to a student, he's a shoo-in for Slytherin prefect next year..."
My eyes scanned the room, spotting a dark-haired kid walking in our direction, his deep blue eyes obviously fixed on me: "Oh?"
"Orion Black is a year ahead of you, and he could use some support when it comes to the delicate art of potion-making." Slughorn's voice turned serious then, "He'll be the future Lord Black, and a useful friend to have, if you play your cards right." Did I hear that name before?
I barely withheld a sigh. Isn't it enough that I pretend to care for your Slug Club? Now I have to cater to the needs of a kid that apparently is unable to follow a simple recipe? "How can someone manage to not pass Potions? Following the recipe to the letter is enough for an Acceptable, isn't it?"
My Head of House shot me a reproaching glare then, shifting his attention to Minerva, whose expression clearly manifested just how much she wanted me to shut up: "I heard he's very good at Charms, professor Farsee mentioned he wanted him to get started on the NEWT Charm course despite his being a fourth-year student."
My eyebrows climbed into my hairline at the witch's words: "So he isn't an incapable idiot, he simply has difficulties with how Potions is framed as a subject?"
Unfortunately, my voice wasn't quite adequate for polite whispering, and the newcomer heard everything I just said: "I am most certainly not an idiot, no."
Orion Black was a capable wizard, and Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, incredibly politically savvy for someone his age, he had inherited a stark pragmatism that would one day make him perfect for the role he'd eventually inherit.
The adherence to Slytherin's favored traits was expected of him, and something that Orion took a graceful measure of pride into. That was the reason why he had needed to twist his genuine enjoyment of Charms into a passion for Warding, something that he could excuse to the rest of the family as a wish to make their home unassailable. Having difficulties in a subject before he took his OWLs, however, was not something he could allow.
Knowing one's self was fundamental for a wizard for a number of reasons, and so Orion kept up his soul-searching while he walked up to the student Slughorn had meant to introduce him to, easily recognizing him. After all, he had been already two meters tall back in his first year, and the boy had kept growing.
"I am most certainly not an idiot, no." Orion's voice announced his presence to the unnaturally tall Slytherin, who didn't have the decency of looking abashed.
"I am Rubeus Hagrid." the deep baritone of the tired-looking third-year Slytherin was out of place on such a young wizard, and yet, it matched his incongruous size perfectly.
Orion barely held back a sneer: "I know."
The Gryffindor witch that so often accompanied herself with the Slytherin student in question introduced herself, and the Heir of House Black smoothly exchanged meaningless platitudes with her and the Potions Professor both, only to frown in distaste and return his attention to the unnaturally tall Slytherin student, which had been looking at him with something that looked like... disappointment?
"How?" Hagrid asked, clarifying once Orion raised an unimpressed eyebrow: "How do you know my name?"
Black sighed inwardly, his thoughts skimming over his own circumstances while he tried to keep back the insults that bubbled to the forefront of his mind.
Excellence in every endeavor he undertook was a trait that he couldn't forfeit: the lesser branches of the family expected just a sign of weakness in order to pounce and take his rightful inheritance of Lordship from him. Of course, Cygnus, born in 1938, would be raised ready to take over the Blck family in case something happened, while it was up to Orion to make sure his little brother both knew his place and didn't resent him for being the Lord.
Competition bred excellence, in a way, that was why the Founders divided the wards of Hogwarts into Houses. And if the Lord Black to be wasn't able to handle his closest relations, well, then it was simply luck that there were other options, wasn't it?
So, Orion had grown up constantly challenged, learning how to play to his strengths while concealing his weaknesses, and now that he was in his fourth year, he could start to look outwards himself in order to build a power that while not magical, could prove itself endlessly beneficial.
"Has it escaped your attention that we belong to the same House?" Orion Black didn't bother hiding his sarcasm: no matter what Slughorn had told him about this unnaturally sized wizard, for now, he made a perfect impression of a particularly dimwitted troll.
Orion would one day be more than a simply competent wizard, and more than a mere member of the Wizengamot. For that, he'd need allies in as many positions as he could afford, reeling in their support when needed, while offering some form of compensation that would make those people both eager for more and scared of reprisals. Such was the might of the House of Black.
That need meshed wonderfully with Orion's Acceptable in Potions: he needed to bring it up to an Exceed Expectations before the end of the year, or he wouldn't be a Prefect, which meant fewer opportunities to network with those that one day he'd need as allies. At the same time, the shunned, unnaturally tall half-blood was singularly talented in Potion Making while lacking anything resembling a connection to society.
For all of his jovial attitude, Slughorn was a consummated Slytherin, and recognized an opportunity when he spotted one: by virtue of introducing the two, he'd gain some measure of gratitude from both.
"It hasn't, no." the much taller Slytherin studied Orion with unnerving focus, his dark eyes roaming over his form with barely hidden amusement, "You're surprisingly controlled for someone so little."
Black spluttered, his focus and half-conscious meditation disrupted by the non-sequitur. And I that I worried about pointing out his freakishness! Orion opened his mouth to put in his place the tall Slytherin student, when he caught it: expectation. He had been subjected to far too many hidden tests in his life, from far too many people, to not recognize a challenge when he was subjected to one. Does he want to see how I'll react?
Before he could reply, however, the third-year Slytherin kept talking, turning towards their Head of House, which was almost glaring at the unnaturally sized wizard: "We'll figure something out that is beneficial to both, Professor. Thank you for introducing us."
"Oh, well," Slughorn produced his standard soft laugh, something that sent his double chin wobbling minutely, "if you must thank me, I'll have you know that I have a favorite sweet..."
Orion tuned out the downplaying of Horace's networking skills, his focus returning to the unnaturally tall student that proceeded to down another couple of adequately sized glasses of wine, and a third once their Head of House's improvised speech kept going: "Well, I'm not one for purchasing gifts, professor."
McGonagall reminded everyone of her presence then: "You brewed a new one?"
A new what? Black frowned in distaste at being cut off from the conversation, but he immediately plastered a relaxed expression over his features. He knew how to conduct a verbal exchange, and it wasn't the time to steer his interlocutors to a new topic. Not when the unnaturally tall Slytherin extracted a single vial from one of his inner pockets, a vial containing a lump of grey fur.
"Not quite." the grin on Rubeus' face was just to wide to come off as not-threatening, but Slughorn accepted the vial with undisguised curiosity, his eyes not managing to spot the flash of... something... on the younger student's face.
"By Merlin's..." Horace' voice went out then while he held the vial up against the light given by a crystal lamp, "Is this truly..?"
"Freshly picked too." the deep chuckle of the too-tall Slytherin student made Orion's ribcage rumble uncomfortably for a second, "I have no idea what to do with it, but I also wanted to have a unique thank you for the many opportunities that you offered me thus far, professor."
The vial disappeared into the deep pockets of Slughorn almost faster than Orion could see, and the professor exchanged a sly glance with the third-year student, before taking in the quickly emptying room: "Oh, well, since it's just us..." he started walking toward one end of the room, immediately followed by both Minerva and Rubeus.
"You mentioned brews?" Orion smoothly inserted himself into the conversation while he took notice that the cohort of fools catering to Riddle had decided to leave.
McGonagall's cheeks reddened minutely as she blinked in his direction, blatantly letting him know that she had forgotten about his presence, and she exchanged a glance with the much taller Slytherin student, which merely patted her gently on the back.
"Oh, it's sort of an open secret among a selected few." Hagrid's baritone addressed Orion's question before the latter could pounce on the Gryffindor's faux-pas, "I have no doubts Dumbledore knows, it's hard to get something done under his nose, after all, but since it's not malignant in the least, he generally lets it go: I'm quite spectacular with potions, and beverages like Fire Whiskey, Gillywater, and so on seemed subpar, so..."
"So he turned an abandoned classroom into a brewery." the smooth voice of Tom Riddle was good support to his soft smile as he joined the small group following Slughorn, which was now directed to a cabinet that Orion had missed up to that point.
"It's merely a place where I study potions." Hagrid shook his head, enjoying the outrageous nature of the paper-thin difference, "If some of those concoctions have effects that can be described as... entertaining, well, that's still something new I've learned about."
The four students followed Slughorn while Orion frowned at the easy camaraderie present among McGonagall, Riddle, and Hagrid. He knew something about their academic results, after all, Hogwarts was only so big, but he wouldn't have imagined that the three were acquainted, never mind friends.
Just how had they got to know each other? Surely it wasn't Slughorn's work, Rubeus was barely old enough to make an appearance in the Slug-Club, and neither Quidditch nor any other study-related club had any of the three as a member. Orion made it his business to know students that could eventually become particularly useful in any given field. And while Riddle's exceptional wandwork and Outstanding marks were just barely less known than Minerva's success in Transfiguration, even Hagrid's gift for Potions wasn't enough to offer an answer to the relaxed friendship that the Black Heir could clearly see.
Slughorn silently led them through a door and into his private quarters, where he stopped next to a cabinet placed a few steps from a lit fireplace. The small living room still presented the refined taste of a Slytherin, but where the room hosting the events for the Slug-Club was defined by its elegance, the new space Orion found himself in was heavily leaning towards comfort as its main purpose.
Thick carpets, dainty poufs were paired with plush armchairs, and small couches were placed strategically in order to allow many comfortable places where a wizard could simply relax reading a book or nursing a pick-me-up.
The light of the full moon entered through a narrow and tall window at such an angle that it refracted against a crystal chandelier floating just under the ceiling, and the contrast between the distant astral body and the warming lit fireplace painted the whole room with a quality that could only be defined as ethereal.
"Well, I might have been on the receiving end of some of Rubeus' most successful attempts." Professor Slughorn openly confessed as he opened the liquor cabinet, "Luckily, some of these are as light as butterbeer, while being much more interesting, and conductive to much more refined conversations, what would you suggest, my boy?"
Hagrid lumbered next to the fireplace and silently enlarged one of the armchairs: "After a night like this I'll go with a generous serving of New Sickle."
Orion blinked in open surprise at how accomodating Slughorn was being, but following the budding talent for politics that his parents didn't neglect nurturing, he simply rolled with the punches: he sat next to Riddle on a low couch in front of a glass coffee table and accepted the Potion Professor's suggestion when it came to choosing a beverage.
Minerva proceeded to quietly wave her wand, conjuring a couple of matching armchairs for herself and the professor, who, always the consumed and graceful host, arranged the seating so that the small group of Slytherin wizards -plus Gryffindor witch- described a misshapen half circle around the table, leaving the lit fireplace on one side.
Orion didn't bother to hide his appreciation of the witch's skill: "I don't need to be in a NEWT course of Transfiguration to know how remarkable that is."
Slughorn sank into the armchair with a deep, satisfied sigh that temporarily ballooned out his already prominent belly: "I see why Albus is always so eager to praise you, dear Minerva, this is truly advanced Transfiguration." turning his attention to the other wizards, the Potion Master smiled openly, "A profane of the art might think that she conjured armchairs and then enchanted them, but that isn't quite what you did, is it?"
Hagrid placed on the coffee table the tall glass containing a silvery liquid that Slughorn had provided him with, not bothering at all with disguising his interest: "Anything to with the surprise you mentioned?"
Orion consciously stopped himself from letting his jaw hang open in surprise as the Gryffindor witch proceeded to excitedly explain what some of her last Dumbledore-sanctioned experiments with Transfiguration were about, the reasoning and the examples largely going above the Black Heir's understanding of the subject. Is she saying what I think she is?
"Basically, you transfigured some of the light from the fireplace into 'comfort' while you were conjuring the armchairs?" Hagrid's open curiosity spared Orion the small humiliation of having to ask for clarification, and McGonagall's self-satisfied smirk was answer enough.
"How far can you stretch an Ideal to generate a contradictory Shape?" Riddle's smooth voice reminded Orion of his presence, while Slughorn appeared happy to let the exchange play out, "Arguably, even Hagrid could brew a poison with daises as main ingredient, but it wouldn't be terribly powerful, I think."
"It wouldn't." the Potion teacher cut in before the unnaturally tall Slytherin could zero in on the dubious nature of the 'even' uttered by the Slytherin perfect, "Working with an ingredient's nature is what makes potions more refined than, let's say, enchanting a mirror so that it could act as a knife."
McGonagall sipped from her beverage for a couple of seconds before answering, nursing her words with care as she tried to simplify a concept that she understood almost instinctively: "Usually, the Shape follows the function. There are cross-transfigurations that..." she sighed, looking for the words that for the moment escaped her.
"I believe Albus once produced a lion out of a decent-sized rock," Slughorn came to aid the witch, "the construct was clearly an animation of a transfigured, inanimated object, and yet it was lively while retaining the unyielding properties of the stone."
"Ah." Hagrid nodded slowly, his eyes slightly unfocused as he parsed what he had been told, while Riddle seemed to find confirmation of an idea he already had.
This is a far-reaching implication of a more or less simple concept. Orion thought idly, having gotten the gist of what the Gryffindor witch had attempted to explain, only to return his focus to the interlocutors Slughorn had organized for him to meet with: the witch was a half-blood with no connections whatsoever, but so talented as to achieve the status of Animagus before her OWLs. The freakishly tall, younger Slytherin was much the same only in regards to Potions, only he was further burdened by the Engorging Brew that caused his eye-catching size. In the end, there was Tom Riddle: poor as they came, but undeniably bright.
"Purpose is derived through the symbol you need to perform any piece of magic." Orion spoke idly, fishing some obscure nugget of knowledge in order to make clear that he wasn't academically less capable than the other people present, "The most powerful application of a Fidelius, for example, can, in theory, be achieved only when cast upon a place lacking any other form of defense."
"That's a very rare Charm." praised Slughorn, a greedy glint in his eyes, "And not something that many of your age can hope to understand the intricacies of. Not something that anyone researches for the sake of research, to be honest... I wonder, might you be thinking about using it upon one of your family's properties? I heard that Lord Black recently purchased a townhouse in London."
Not likely, not when I have the might of Black wards to rely upon. "Perhaps." Orion contented himself with smiling mysteriously, his eyes temporarily washing over the other three underage people present, finding that they were already looking at him with newfound respect. It's too easy to get in the graces of the academically inclined.
Almost like misshapen reflections, the other two Slytherin students took a gulp from their respective beverages, their eyes meeting each other over the brim of their chalices.
The Black Heir didn't miss the brief but somewhat heavy stare that Riddle and Hagrid exchanged before the latter outright asked, turning his shoulders fully towards Orion: "I didn't have the time to study it in depth yet, but how does the passing of the secret work? And how does the Keeper maintain it safe? Occlumency?"
Just who is this Hagrid to mention the Mind Arts so casually? "The Keeper must be wanting to reveal the Secret." the Black Heir replied with a frown, barely controlling his knee-jerk reaction while a part of him searched his memories, "The tome I've learned this from didn't specify further."
"Occlumency?" the Gryffindor witch asked as she finished her drink, placing the empty glass on the coffee table.
"That'd be because the Secret is concealed within the soul of the keeper!" Slughorn smiled widely at his students while he ignored Minerva's immediate question, before his expression became somewhat more sheepish, "I'm a purveyor of the esoteric, very much like you appear to be, Rubeus, just where have you heard of the Mind Arts?"
The unnaturally tall student smiled guilelessly at the potion professor while he rolled his humungous shoulders: "I seem to have forgotten all about that, but while we are on this topic, just how is the mid related to the soul?"
"Ah, you don't ask small questions, do you?" Slughorn openly laughed, his belly quivering while he leaned back in the conjured armchair: "We think, so we have a mind, we move, so we have a body, we cast spells, so we have magic, and we can leave ghosts behind, so we have a soul. But defining the soul... that's not something that has been achieved yet, I think."
"I read that the mind exerts Will, the body has strength, magic holds Power, and that the soul is a reflection of them all."
"A curious way to put it." Slughorn's eyes widened with undisguised interest, "But not an incorrect one, I think, there have been instances that might support such a fuzzy definition... alas, this matters hardly lend themselves to clear boundaries, it is one of the beauties of Potion Making, I believe."
"To answer, your question, Miss. McGonagall, Occlumency is one of the two branches of the Mind Arts." Blatantly changing topic, the Head of House Slytherin returned his focus to the Gryffindor witch, which smiled gratefully now that her blurted-out question was being addressed: "In particular, Occlumency deals with the magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."
Ever bright, Minerva didn't take long to catch the implications: "You mean that some people could just read my mind?"
"And why isn't Occlumency taught at Hogwarts?" Minerva didn't bother hiding her frown, "I'd think that such a skill should be made available to any wishing for it!"
"Yes, I wonder why the existence of a way to keep your thoughts concealed might be kept under wraps." Hagrid's rumbling chuckle just oozed sarcasm, "Perhaps you could ask Professor Dumbledore to teach you, I bet he's frightfully good at it, with a brain like his... more importantly, I wonder if there is a way to make use of your Animagus to help you along the way."
Who the hell thinks like this? Orion arched an eyebrow in the direction of the unnaturally tall Slytherin student, who leaned back in his seat as an answer, his open smile the only answer he was willing to give to the Black Heir's silent question while McGonagall's expression clearly stated that the idea caught her interest.
Slughorn coughed, trying to bring the conversation back on a more pleasurable track, "To answer your question, dear Minerva, some of the Ministry jobs would become much more difficult if Occlumency was a widely spread practice."
"And there isn't a way to actually verify is a wizard is better than the attacker in the Mind Arts or merely average. The most basic step of Occlumency is about not giving anything to your attacker, but a master of the art could do much more." Orion added, his expression carefully blank while he tried to come to terms with the endless list of oddities that characterized the three students Slughorn had used the evening to introduce to the Black Heir, "It's one of the reasons why neither memories seen in a Pensieve nor Veritaserum are allowed in court."
"Much more such as?" Riddle idly crossed his legs while maintaining his usual, polite tone, but the Black Heir was starting to believe that the older student was simply used to keep his natural reactions concealed, and that he was, in fact, very curious about the answer.
"A truly masterful application of Occlumency would allow the user to conceal his thoughts even to himself, to the point of fabricating memories." Slughorn was happy to explain, his eyes showing a brief spark of excitement that was hard to miss, "It's incredibly useful to cast spells that require a particular mindset, not to mention that as you learn it you acquire a self-discipline that is hard to acquire otherwise."
The thoughtful, deep hum of Hagrid made Orion's breastbone resonate for a split second: "I wonder if there is a potion to outright block external influences."
"Oh, Rubeus, I think that if such a thing could be brewed, it would have been already." the professor's barely suppressed peal of laughter underlined the rolling eyes of Minerva, who muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'of course, he's thinking about potions'.
"I was also wondering if oI could repurpose the Fidelius: what if I can place 'The Secret of my thoughts, into my own Soul'?" the unnaturally tall student scratched his left cheeck for a second, before returning to the present and addressing his Head of House.
"Well, potions can more or less achieve anything, provided the brewer is capable enough and in possession of the right ingredients." Hagrid spoke out loud, while he leaned forward: his hand missing his empty glass by an inch when he attempted to pick it up from the coffee table, "That a cure for lycanthropy hasn't been found yet is more likely to be caused by a lack of the latter rather than the first, after all, the curse has been around for millennia, and extraordinary potion-makers must have been around."
"Sometimes I forget about your Slytherin-esque ambition, Rubeus." Minerva pinched her nose in faux-exasperation, but it was clear to see that she was thinking about the unnaturally tall third-year's suggestion about asking Dumbledore for instruction in Occlumency, "What was the project of your first year? Unaided Flight?"
Orion didn't miss the implications of what Hagrid had just said. Even if the Black Heir was just starting to know the unnaturally tall third-year, he could easily see just how much he could accomplish with something resembling founding or endorsement from a family such as the Blacks. At least if his skill was anything comparable with the naked ambition discernible in his ideas.
"If a pixie can fly, you can bet your wand that I'll learn how to do the same!" Hagrid hunched forward on his enlarged seat, his palms resting on his knees for a couple of seconds before he leaned back into the armchair once more, his expression forlorn as he eyed his empty glass.
Slughorn captured Orion's eyes for a second then, only to minutely nod towards the slightly inebriated, freakishly-sized Slytherin.
Slughorn seems to believe in him. That made Orion's eyebrows climb up to his hairline while he sipped for the first time the beverage handed to him by the potion professor. "You want to learn how to fly and to find a cure for lycanthropy." the Black Heir summed up: "Anything else that even Merlin would think impossible?"
The question was rhetorical, but from the sly smile Hagrid exhibited, Orion was sure that the answer was affirmative: "And you have any idea about how to accomplish either?"
"I haven't gotten around to plan how to fly yet, no." the unnaturally tall Slytherin stretched in his enlarged seat, his long arms and humongous hands reaching far above his head.
And once more, everyone present caught the implication: But I have an idea about how to cure Lycanthropy.
"You mentioned the lack of ingredients." Riddle's interest was now focused on the much taller student, "It doesn't look like something you can easily affect."
Hagrid waved a single finger in Tom's direction: "Ah, but the answer is deceptively simple, isn't it? We use plants and parts of animals to prepare our potions, even our wands are made with those two components: if I lack an ingredient, then I simply have to make one."
Minerva returned into the conversation with a thoughtful hum: "You did mention cross-breeding once before."
This is his solution? Mashing together animals until something useful pops out? Orion didn't bother hiding his disdainful scoff at the idea while he peered at the unnaturally tall Slytherin, who grinned openly, almost challengingly, at the other people present.
"Hyppogriffs were realized leveraging Pride, among other things." from the absent nodding of both Riddle and McGonagall, it was clear that those three ahd already faced the topic, "Instead of working from the already existing Lion and Eagle, I simply have to imagine the pieces I'd need, and work backwards, I'm sure there are a way or twenty to transfer a property of a creature to a single part of the whole."
"If I'm not mistaken, one of the principles of Alchemy is about bringing together different properties." the Head of House Slytherin mused out loud, the hand not holding his -by now empty- glass rose to his chin, "I had an interesting conversation with Albus a few years ago, but I can't seem to remember its finer academical points..."
The deep bout of laughter from Hagrid managed to once more reverberate uncomfortably in Orion's ribcage, who beared it while he observed the other wizards zero in on the opportunity hinted at by Slughorn: "If only we knew someone that professor Dumbledore would be willing to teach to on the side..."
"Minerva!" the Slytherin prefect affected surprise by widening his eyes and not quite covering his mouth with his left hand: "You're already studying advanced topics with him aren't you?" Riddle noted idly, a slow smile appearing on his features while he turned slightly towards the Gryffindor witch, "Maybe you could as about Alchemy, who knows, maybe you've got a knack for it. And we both know just how much you actually like learning something new."
"You only want to profit from my notes on the subject once I've worked through the bulk of the hurdles." Minerva's eyes narrowed at Riddle, who shrugged while opening his hands, as if to say that it was an obvious conclusion.
"Returning to the cross-breeding, "Orion interjected before the annoyed witch could pull her wand on the admittedly infuriating wizards needling her, "and ignoring its intricacies and pitfalls, there are far more... practical issues."
Hagrid turned once more in his enlarged seat, frowning at the Black Heir: "Such as?"
"The logistic, for one." Orion raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Magical Creatures need care, often an expensive one. Even if dragons are on one extreme, maintaining even a hippogriff herd isn't easy. From the occasional Obliviation to protect the statute, to proper wards keeping creatures from wandering where they shouldn't, to the specialized caretakers needed to harvest what they naturally shed..."
"I get it." Hagrid huffed irritably, "Money is the big answer to any mundane problem, isn't it?"
"Such is the way of the world." the Black Heir smiled thinly as an answer, holding back the urge to stretch his legs.
"One would think that even the dumbest wizard should be able to see the inherent advantage into a greater biodiversity." Hagrid frowned distastefully at Orion's words.
"If you are serious in your endeavor, once you leave Hogwarts I'd be pleased to write a letter or two, my boy." Slughorn smiled as he reminded everyone that he was a consummate Slytherin, "Mr. Scamander was a student here not that long ago, and he has recently published an almost revolutionary work about the Care of Magical Creatures."
The Black Heir held back a scornful reply: for all of his undeniable skills in the caring of animals of any kind, the more or less infamous Scamander didn't understand the people he so desperately tried to convince to change the approach of. "I wouldn't want to phrase the safeguard of creatures of any kind as a business... but biodiversity means that there are more possibilities for wizardkind, which is something that could rally the needed support for your project."
"Once you leave Hogwarts, Rubeus." Minerva added with a suspicious glare, which was met with raised arms in the universal gesture of surrender.
"How far do expansion charms go?" Hagrid tried to redirect the conversation while he exchanged an excited grin with Riddle, who apparently had no difficulty in following the thoughts of the younger student, "Because one of the difficulties of maintaining animals is the space they require, but if a crack in the ground can somehow be transfigured into a valley, well..."
"You'd still need to convince a rather large number of people to join your project." Orion pointed out with a roll of his eyes: Hagrid seemed to type to constantly dream too big with not an ounce of the needed preparation.
"I hoped that with magic compromise wouldn't be necessary." Hagrid let out an almost explosive breath while he cast his head back, his eyes looking aimlessly at the ceiling.
The small group shared a few moments of companionable silence while Slughorn nursed his drink, his cheeks positively flush because of the alcohol.
"You could always conquer a country and force the local Ministry to do your bidding." Minerva chortled after she emptied her own glass, her drink finally finished, "But I think that you'd find the paperwork to be worse than the still-present need to deal with people you find uninteresting."
And with those words, the unnaturally tall Slytherin stilled for a single moment, his relaxed posture locking in place for several seconds before he looked back at the Gryffindor witch. Orion, in his politically-savvy, mind, barely held back a flinch, while Riddle's expression had gone blank, as if anticipating the words that were about to come.
"Maybe I should, shouldn't I?" the tipsy Rubeus bared his teeth, almost like a wolf, somehow managing to appear utterly menacing despite his still being sprawled into his enlarged armchair, "I could find myself a mountain range, or an island, claim it, and name myself king."
Minerva frowned at the challenging tone, but she answered with a shrug: "Well, you'd be able to make your ramblings on biodiversity matter."
How dismissive. Orion eyed askance at the Gryffindor witch, but he refrained from commenting.
Instead of answering, Hagrid remained sprawled in his chair, his eyes staring hollowly forward as if seeing something completely different than the room they had been sharing for the past lengthy and diverse conversation. And then, just when the attention of the small group started to slid off him, just when Slughorn managed to shake himself out of his small daze as he noticed the late hour, Rubeus... hummed.
It wasn't the distracted hum one did for himself while thinking about something completely different, it wasn't the occasional rumble of laughter that had annoyingly resonated with Orion's ribcage during the unusual evening.
It was a loud, deep sound that escaped from the closed lips of the unnaturally tall Slytherin. A vibration that held the imposing presence of the very mountains he had just mentioned, the sound rose and fell into a lull, repeating itself twice before Hagrid opened his mouth.
His voice rumbled low enough to reverberate in the breastbones of those next to him, and that halted any half-hearted attempt to divert the Slythering from his newly discovered singing talent: "A King he was on carven throne,"
Rubeus rose from his seat with barely any sway to his movements while he kept singing: "in many-pillared halls of stone."
With a clear parting nod towards his Head of House, he turned to leave, his voice growing louder as he appeared to barely hold back a peal of laughter: "With golden roof and silver floor,"
He waved idly at the students flabbergasted by the unexpected change in his behavior and he left the room: "and runes of power upon the door!"
AN
Okay, I've tried, but honestly, I cannot hope to bring this story forward.
Not without adding characters to support it and to weave the events acting as a framework. The main characters will remain of course Rubeus, Tom, and Minerva. I used Dumbledore and Slughorn to offer some support to the events already, but going forward, considering the sheer scope I want this fic to have, I need to add people.
Given the fact that we're still so far from canon, I'll have to rely on the grandparents of Harry's generation to act out minor roles, and while I'll refer to the usual website as a starting point, I've already spotted instances in which (like Minerva) a character has multiple dates of birth, so I'll have to adjust accordingly.
That is to say, including this chapter, I've laid the foundations for the story: and it has been the most massive worldbuilding I have ever attempted, considering that I managed to weave characterization into it. All the characters that I'll need you readers to have a passing familiarity with now have personalities, motivations, and main interests, so I'm finally able to return to the progression of the plot, and to push on the gas a bit.
Up until now, the story was somewhat 'still'. Sure, everyone researched or experimented, but there was precious little action, the only things actually exciting have been Hagrid's ritual and the recovery of the Diadem.
And I kind of wanted the story to be 'static' during Hagrid's time at school, because forging drama for the sake of drama isn't really up my alley, and I'm not really one for casual opponents that get forgotten going forward (I really don't want to waste time and effort on a character that I'll eventually drop).
But with the last chapter we got into a position that allows me to create credible conflict that doesn't scream 'railroad' like with the random vampires back in Albania, we'll see more about that in the next chapters, which should hopefully be a little easier (faster) to write.
About Orion:
I need other minor characters to be present in the story before I make use of them, I don't want to create a character to solve a problem in the same chapter that problem is revealed, that'd be just bad planning on my part. So I'll present other secondary chapters here and there while I go on with the main plot.
In any case, I present you Orion Black, born in 1929, and said to be good at warding, the fandom states he was the one to provide Grimmauld Place with the mysterious wards that made the place ideal for being chosen as the Order's base. (And yes, Orion is Sirius father in canon)
I wanted to experiment by adding a character that isn't drawn by interest in Magic. I hope I managed to build a character that is different from my favorite standard, and I super-hope that the conversation that took place among Slughorn, Minerva, Rubeus, and Tom, managed to be smooth despite the vast amount of foreshadowing and lore that I've dropped into it.
Basing ourselves on canon, we can say that nothing is known about Orion's personality, so I'm going for a ruthless politician build. He's your typical pureblood, but in the interest of using somewhat known characters without dumping 50k words on their development, given the minor impact they'll have on the story, I'm giving him a pragmatic twist.
Hopes for his character and sub-plot? Ideas?
About Tom:
I really wasn't sure what to do with him. I agree that he cannot accept 'not the best' as a state of being, but now the accessed the actual Secrets of the Chamber (which I was thinking of as a collection of Salazar's works) plus the Basilisk he has options to prove himself better than Hagrid without going full nuclear on the school.
So, I've foreshadowed a couple of things in this chapter, but we'll see them explode in the following chapters, and I've decided on some stuff to inject some much-needed adrenaline into this story. You'll see soon, I promise.
About the Slug-Club:
I didn't want the standard dinner plus brownnosing start in the Slug-Club for our MC.
I hope I managed to give a clear picture of how intertwined his extracurricular activities are with his regular schoolwork, and I openly admit that I dislike how the chat with Hagrid-Riddle-McGonagall-Sughorn-Black went. It is extremely difficult to balance so many elements, exceedingly so with the 3rd person colored by Orion's opinions.
How did it go? I used it to touch several interesting Lore-related topics, as well as to inject some foreshadowing. Any ideas about how I can better manage this kind of meeting? There will be other 'round tables' going on with the story, even if I hope they'll have a clearly defined aim, instead of the random networking engineered by Slughorn.
Mind Arts:
I used the brief mention of Mind Arts to clearly state why any problem can't be solved by the use of a Pensieve or a dose of Veritas Serum: I simply can ill tolerate all the fics in which those two are paraded as revolutionary instruments to solve the Death Eater out of Azkaban after the fall of Voldemort-debacle.
This chapter has a lot of stuff going on, and I'm almost tempted to split it before the change in POV, I even have a few hundred words about a brief encounter with Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest before the MC returns to the Castle, but the impact of that meeting makes me think it unnecessary: besides, I would have used it only to put some half-assed foretelling of shit that's gonna go down in any case, so I opted to cut it.
General opinions about this chapter? Hopes? Suggestions?
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