Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Let's Try That Again, Shall We?
Note: Posting stuff I have lying around that is done and comes in chronological order, because I have no good excuses for sitting on it other than not wanting to format it. Work on the story has been going at a few paragraphs here and there, lately. At least this is a marginally disreputable chapter, so I won't lose my fanfiction license.
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Chapter 60: Slytherin's Monster, Part 4
It had been a day since the basilisk had been driven from the school. There had been no sign of it since, although Sybill had insisted she had "seen it in her crystal ball" traversing a snow-covered field. Albus wasn't sure if that was genuine divination or not, but in either case it wasn't enough information to go on. This part of Scotland was sparsely populated, so the basilisk could very well be somewhere far from major human settlement. He supposed it could live off sheep, which were present in large numbers and had not faced major predators in generations.
Very little was known about the "natural" habits of basilisks, not only because all research on them had been conducted long ago by dark wizards, but because they weren't a naturally-occurring animal in the first place. Were they nocturnal? Were they ambush predators or active hunters? Would muggles be likely to run across it, or would it remain discreet? How likely was it to try to return "home", assuming it thought it had one? Did it have any instinctual sense of direction at all?
Albus had sent another note to the mer-people, asking after the squid. He held out hope that it might still be alive, and so long as no remains had been found, he could at least wait a few days before being obligated to announce its death publicly.
There was still no sign of Charlie Weasley. The clock in the Burrow still pointed to "School". Pointing spells cast from distant mountains still converged on the forest but failed closer in. Molly continued to floo him every day asking for news.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were few greater believers in the power of normality to preserve sanity than Albus Dumbledore. He wasted no time in doing away with all of the year's new security measures, resetting the wards, and finding new homes for most of the roosters. This last was quite difficult given that the amount of magic left on them from cumulative student pranks had turned most of them into walking, clucking, Statute of Secrecy violations. Hagrid was allowed to keep a few, and a few more went to Aberforth, but completely disenchanting the remaining one hundred twenty-something, or however many were left now, promised to be very time-consuming. Filius was convinced to turn it into a lesson.
So aside from the petrification cases and a really excessive number of chickens, normality (as understood by Albus) was restored. This meant he now had to catch up on paperwork and his various other projects, including repairing his broken monitoring devices, figuring out how the castle had managed to lock doors and block apparation, and making headway on the laundry list of steps necessary to thwart Voldemort's return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The basilisk seemed to be genuinely gone.
It was Sylvanus who ultimately proved that it had left the grounds entirely. Yesterday morning he had spent hours going up and down the lake on his broom, and then down the valley on either end. Several hundred feet downstream, in the brook which flowed from the lake, he had found where the basilisk had left the water. The track was obscured by drifting snow, but was clearly headed away from the school. Relieved, Albus flooed the Dragon Research and Restraint office and let them know. Amelia wasn't keen on sending her aurors after the basilisk, and Albus didn't see it as the business of the Order, so he was more than happy to leave it to DRR. Privately he estimated the chances of a rogue parselmouth suddenly appearing to be very low, so while muggles might eventually be at risk, it was, as Erasmus would say, a relatively predictable risk.
DRR had been on the case since yesterday afternoon, and, if Sybill's assertion were to be believed, presumably still were. It was unclear what would happen when they actually found the basilisk. Most wizards in the country wanted it killed as soon as possible. Most of those who publicly favored capture, though, worked in DRR, giving rise to serious bickering within the Ministry and a huge incentive for DRR agents to drag their feet.
A day later, it was clear that DRR was getting all it could handle just keeping would-be basilisk-slayers out of northwest Scotland.
"Told you so," said Eeles, when Madam Pomfrey finally released him, about thirty-six hours after after his disappearance. His condition was very puzzling, and Albus had no real theories as to what might have happened to him. Attempts at legilimency had uncovered no signs of obliviation, yet Eeles had a nearly-complete gap in his memory beginning before his last interactions with Albus, and extending to his waking up in the corner of a classroom.
The gap was only nearly complete because Erasmus in fact remembered his dreams once he woke up. Albus had insisted on reviewing the memory, just in case it might be important. Eeles, after trying to discourage him, had finally shrugged and rolled his eyes, saying "don't say I didn't warn you." It was soon obvious why he had neglected to mention the dream to Madam Pomfrey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dream, or at least the part Eeles remembered, had begun on the grounds of Eeles' wizarding school in New Zealand. The basilisk had made a ring around him and was circling inwards — Eeles had looked into its yellow eyes and was petrified. Basilisks were usually depicted in drawings with yellow eyes, based on some fifth-century writing. The one in the dream looked very much like the one in Eeles' poster of monsters, which in turn was based on many iterations of art by illustrators who had never seen a basilisk themselves.
The basilisk in the dream was soon a swirling pile of coils, rubbing agains Eeles' bare skin as its head turned from side to side, fixing him with the gaze of its great yellow eyes. The eyes seemed familiar to Eeles, whose subconscious leapt to the next most striking set of yellow eyes it knew of — those of Madam Hooch.
And so the coils became a broom, and the spiky frills around the basilisk's head became a hat and hair. Eeles was petrified by Madam Hooch. Dream-Madam-Hooch hovered in front of him, looking into his eyes, and smirking in a way Albus hadn't seen from the real Madam Hooch since decades ago when he had spotted her in a wizards' pub in Glasgow.
She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over the handle of her broom, then sped off, barely above the grass.
In a penseive, memories sometimes allowed the viewer to stand back from the scene and watch as if they were a third party. That extra magic was often lacking during legilimency, especially for dreams, and Albus relived the dream exactly as Erasmus had dreamt it. So, when Dream-Hooch flung Erasmus onto a large, flat boulder, Albus felt the cold, rough surface against his back, and was forced once again to look up into Hooch's eyes.
He felt, rather than saw, her take his cock in his hand, playing with it. When it became clear this wasn't going to be brief, Albus gave up.
"Too much for you?" asked Eeles.
"I, ah, felt that the cost to your privacy outweighed any possible benefit at that point. You don't think I missed anything important, do you?"
"Oh, definitely!" said Eeles, laughing. "You missed the part where she's riding me, and her eyes get slits like the snake's and then her tongue comes out, and it's forked. That was definitely not something I'll be able to forget."
"Oh. Hm. I hope this won't affect your professional relationship—"
"—Oh, come off it. Just because you don't have dreams about your co-workers doesn't mean no one else does. I'll be fine. You're the one who looks traumatized." Eeles grinned.
Albus was at a loss for words for a moment.
Eeles continued, saying "You really do look uncomfortable. Look, I don't usually have dreams that vivid. I think it was the result of something that happened to me — whatever it was that I don't remember. But that would make it only about the eighty-zillionth time that some strange, mysterious power has tried to mess with my dreams. You work in the jungle, sleep in a tent by yourself for months on end — if you're a wizard, every halfway-coherent spirit or godling or whatever thinks it has a divine duty or something to send you visions. And they aren't very creative, and they aren't usually any good at controlling what they send you, and sometimes they get stuck in there with you. So there you are, having dreams that go on all night where you're fucking the local Goddess of Civets or Banyan Trees or Malaria or whatever — that civet goddess yowled the whole time . . . ears were ringing when I woke up. Anyway, I can assure you with total confidence that the chances of that kind of magically-influenced dream producing the slightest shred of useful information, or inspiration, or whatever, is basically nil. Most books you read about it are total bullshit, as far as I can tell."
Albus coughed slightly, waiting to see if Erasmus was actually finished. "Erasmus, you know, those aren't really experiences most wizards have — are you sure it isn't just you?"
"Huh. What, 'Oh, there's Erasmus Eeles, asleep in my forest — today I shall take a break from giving meaningful, life-changing visions, and just mess with him instead!' You mean like that?"
Albus gave a faint smile. "Perhaps. I freely admit this is beyond my, um, areas of expertise."
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Notes: I had forgotten how annoying formatting was. :P And Ficwad's is the simplest of the three sites I use . . .
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Chapter 60: Slytherin's Monster, Part 4
It had been a day since the basilisk had been driven from the school. There had been no sign of it since, although Sybill had insisted she had "seen it in her crystal ball" traversing a snow-covered field. Albus wasn't sure if that was genuine divination or not, but in either case it wasn't enough information to go on. This part of Scotland was sparsely populated, so the basilisk could very well be somewhere far from major human settlement. He supposed it could live off sheep, which were present in large numbers and had not faced major predators in generations.
Very little was known about the "natural" habits of basilisks, not only because all research on them had been conducted long ago by dark wizards, but because they weren't a naturally-occurring animal in the first place. Were they nocturnal? Were they ambush predators or active hunters? Would muggles be likely to run across it, or would it remain discreet? How likely was it to try to return "home", assuming it thought it had one? Did it have any instinctual sense of direction at all?
Albus had sent another note to the mer-people, asking after the squid. He held out hope that it might still be alive, and so long as no remains had been found, he could at least wait a few days before being obligated to announce its death publicly.
There was still no sign of Charlie Weasley. The clock in the Burrow still pointed to "School". Pointing spells cast from distant mountains still converged on the forest but failed closer in. Molly continued to floo him every day asking for news.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were few greater believers in the power of normality to preserve sanity than Albus Dumbledore. He wasted no time in doing away with all of the year's new security measures, resetting the wards, and finding new homes for most of the roosters. This last was quite difficult given that the amount of magic left on them from cumulative student pranks had turned most of them into walking, clucking, Statute of Secrecy violations. Hagrid was allowed to keep a few, and a few more went to Aberforth, but completely disenchanting the remaining one hundred twenty-something, or however many were left now, promised to be very time-consuming. Filius was convinced to turn it into a lesson.
So aside from the petrification cases and a really excessive number of chickens, normality (as understood by Albus) was restored. This meant he now had to catch up on paperwork and his various other projects, including repairing his broken monitoring devices, figuring out how the castle had managed to lock doors and block apparation, and making headway on the laundry list of steps necessary to thwart Voldemort's return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The basilisk seemed to be genuinely gone.
It was Sylvanus who ultimately proved that it had left the grounds entirely. Yesterday morning he had spent hours going up and down the lake on his broom, and then down the valley on either end. Several hundred feet downstream, in the brook which flowed from the lake, he had found where the basilisk had left the water. The track was obscured by drifting snow, but was clearly headed away from the school. Relieved, Albus flooed the Dragon Research and Restraint office and let them know. Amelia wasn't keen on sending her aurors after the basilisk, and Albus didn't see it as the business of the Order, so he was more than happy to leave it to DRR. Privately he estimated the chances of a rogue parselmouth suddenly appearing to be very low, so while muggles might eventually be at risk, it was, as Erasmus would say, a relatively predictable risk.
DRR had been on the case since yesterday afternoon, and, if Sybill's assertion were to be believed, presumably still were. It was unclear what would happen when they actually found the basilisk. Most wizards in the country wanted it killed as soon as possible. Most of those who publicly favored capture, though, worked in DRR, giving rise to serious bickering within the Ministry and a huge incentive for DRR agents to drag their feet.
A day later, it was clear that DRR was getting all it could handle just keeping would-be basilisk-slayers out of northwest Scotland.
"Told you so," said Eeles, when Madam Pomfrey finally released him, about thirty-six hours after after his disappearance. His condition was very puzzling, and Albus had no real theories as to what might have happened to him. Attempts at legilimency had uncovered no signs of obliviation, yet Eeles had a nearly-complete gap in his memory beginning before his last interactions with Albus, and extending to his waking up in the corner of a classroom.
The gap was only nearly complete because Erasmus in fact remembered his dreams once he woke up. Albus had insisted on reviewing the memory, just in case it might be important. Eeles, after trying to discourage him, had finally shrugged and rolled his eyes, saying "don't say I didn't warn you." It was soon obvious why he had neglected to mention the dream to Madam Pomfrey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dream, or at least the part Eeles remembered, had begun on the grounds of Eeles' wizarding school in New Zealand. The basilisk had made a ring around him and was circling inwards — Eeles had looked into its yellow eyes and was petrified. Basilisks were usually depicted in drawings with yellow eyes, based on some fifth-century writing. The one in the dream looked very much like the one in Eeles' poster of monsters, which in turn was based on many iterations of art by illustrators who had never seen a basilisk themselves.
The basilisk in the dream was soon a swirling pile of coils, rubbing agains Eeles' bare skin as its head turned from side to side, fixing him with the gaze of its great yellow eyes. The eyes seemed familiar to Eeles, whose subconscious leapt to the next most striking set of yellow eyes it knew of — those of Madam Hooch.
And so the coils became a broom, and the spiky frills around the basilisk's head became a hat and hair. Eeles was petrified by Madam Hooch. Dream-Madam-Hooch hovered in front of him, looking into his eyes, and smirking in a way Albus hadn't seen from the real Madam Hooch since decades ago when he had spotted her in a wizards' pub in Glasgow.
She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over the handle of her broom, then sped off, barely above the grass.
In a penseive, memories sometimes allowed the viewer to stand back from the scene and watch as if they were a third party. That extra magic was often lacking during legilimency, especially for dreams, and Albus relived the dream exactly as Erasmus had dreamt it. So, when Dream-Hooch flung Erasmus onto a large, flat boulder, Albus felt the cold, rough surface against his back, and was forced once again to look up into Hooch's eyes.
He felt, rather than saw, her take his cock in his hand, playing with it. When it became clear this wasn't going to be brief, Albus gave up.
"Too much for you?" asked Eeles.
"I, ah, felt that the cost to your privacy outweighed any possible benefit at that point. You don't think I missed anything important, do you?"
"Oh, definitely!" said Eeles, laughing. "You missed the part where she's riding me, and her eyes get slits like the snake's and then her tongue comes out, and it's forked. That was definitely not something I'll be able to forget."
"Oh. Hm. I hope this won't affect your professional relationship—"
"—Oh, come off it. Just because you don't have dreams about your co-workers doesn't mean no one else does. I'll be fine. You're the one who looks traumatized." Eeles grinned.
Albus was at a loss for words for a moment.
Eeles continued, saying "You really do look uncomfortable. Look, I don't usually have dreams that vivid. I think it was the result of something that happened to me — whatever it was that I don't remember. But that would make it only about the eighty-zillionth time that some strange, mysterious power has tried to mess with my dreams. You work in the jungle, sleep in a tent by yourself for months on end — if you're a wizard, every halfway-coherent spirit or godling or whatever thinks it has a divine duty or something to send you visions. And they aren't very creative, and they aren't usually any good at controlling what they send you, and sometimes they get stuck in there with you. So there you are, having dreams that go on all night where you're fucking the local Goddess of Civets or Banyan Trees or Malaria or whatever — that civet goddess yowled the whole time . . . ears were ringing when I woke up. Anyway, I can assure you with total confidence that the chances of that kind of magically-influenced dream producing the slightest shred of useful information, or inspiration, or whatever, is basically nil. Most books you read about it are total bullshit, as far as I can tell."
Albus coughed slightly, waiting to see if Erasmus was actually finished. "Erasmus, you know, those aren't really experiences most wizards have — are you sure it isn't just you?"
"Huh. What, 'Oh, there's Erasmus Eeles, asleep in my forest — today I shall take a break from giving meaningful, life-changing visions, and just mess with him instead!' You mean like that?"
Albus gave a faint smile. "Perhaps. I freely admit this is beyond my, um, areas of expertise."
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Notes: I had forgotten how annoying formatting was. :P And Ficwad's is the simplest of the three sites I use . . .
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