Fan Fiction ❯ The Weaver Telarius ❯ Waiting for Sundown ( Chapter 13 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The Dark Lord known to most as Voldemort made a simple hand gesture toward the darkness far behind him, turning his back to me. I could have destroyed him easily in that instant, but I myself would have been destroyed. Swift and cunning though I was, there was no way for me to take out the entirety of his Death Eaters. They came from the darkness, robed as he but humble in his presence. I recognized one as Snape and gave him a slow nod, to which he responded only by a planned stumble in his footing. I fear that my smug expression changed slightly at that moment. We would not be making our move tonight. I wondered, at that moment, how deeply we would be into Voldemort's plan before we used one of these meetings to destroy him and his compatriots.

When all were assembled around an eerie flame, the Dark Lord took his place at the center, addressing all in his presence. "Gentlemen, the time of our rise to power is almost upon us. Soon, those loyal to me will reap the benefits of their position while those against me will feel the cool, swift wrath of an untimely death."

I stopped myself from yawning. I would like to say that Voldemort liked to hear himself talk, but the fact of the matter is, the Death Eaters actually ate this stuff up. Before every meeting, he would give some speech about the dirty, maggot-ridden fiefdoms that his supporters would end up controlling when he's had his bit of conquering the world, and the pain that he would inflict upon those who actually had the nerve to speak ill of him. Entirely too predictable in this repsect.

At this moment, he gestured towards me. "Our Weaver and tactician, Telarius, has informed me that his promised army is two months time from being complete," he spoke, finally getting down to business, "This, coupled with his plans, should bring us a swift victory against the Ministry. Once we crush the government of the magical world, we will have no problem ridding this place of those accursed muggles and mudbloods forever."

And he himself was a mudblood. Tom Marvolo Riddle, born of muggle parents, has come to hate something that he himself is. He reminded me of someone from World War II. No matter, though. I had already planned to counter his attack plan. One of the keys to my success was his reliance on my army of giants. That same army would be used directly against him. Of course, I had no illusions that he had backup plans. This is why I wished to have him taken out before his attempt.

Why, then, was Snape being so uncooperative? I resolved to corner him later on this matter. We could have moved months ago with perfect success, and yet he seems content to let the war draw nearer. What was he playing at?

"Are you going to answer the question, Telarius?" Voldemort's voice pierced through my train of thought.

I forced myself to blink to give the others the impression I was in a daze. I directed my gaze to the Dark Lord, his pale and partially formed visage sending an involuntary chill down my spine, his gaze piercing into my soul, as if he was trying to second guess my intentions by my lack of response. My mind raced as I attempted to find the question he asked without ever having heard it. It was taking too long, though. I knew suspicions would only rise, so I decided that a feint was necessary. "Perhaps you might rephrase the question. The answer to the former comes with difficulty."

His face twisted into a puzzled expression, and I tried my damnedest not to wince. I had made the wrong bluff, I knew, and now he suspected something. "The question was simple enough. I asked if you were prepared to tell my Death Eaters of our attack plan?"

I needed an angle out. A way to reply that would absolve his suspicions of me. There was only one way I could think of to accomplish this. "My sincerest apologies, m'lord. I was deep in calculation when you approached me with the question, and I actually did not hear it the first time. I was attempting to cover up my faux pas with my response, but botched that, as you now know."

He seemed to buy that, and the Death Eaters looked at me in respect and fear. Apparently they had never met an analytical mind before. Somehow that didn't surprise me. "Apology accepted, Telarius," his expression was unreadable, and I cursed the limitations of my mind for that.

I nodded to him, then stood. "Our strategy, in its primal form, is quite simple. In any war, it is always to your advantage to claim the high ground. currently, the muggle and mudblood sympathizers have the high ground. We must take this power from them. Therefore, the first stage of our campaign is to seize control of the Ministry of Magic."

Half the group got up and there was much screaming, shouting, and bickering over the possibility of such a feat. I calmly waited for them to be silent, but Voldemort was not as patient as I. Or perhaps he was just used to not being required to have patience. "Silence!" his voice echoed through the forest, almost too loud.

The others silenced immediately, and those who were standing sat back down. "It is not as impossible as some of you may think," Voldemort spoke, "Continue with your explanation of our attack plan."

I nodded, briefly, just showing enough respect to make myself look passable. "The Ministry's entire defensive force is based around the capacity for magic to work," I stated the obvious, "Thusly, any force mustered would have to be immune to the power of magic."

There was a moment of silence. "Preposterous? Indeed. I thought so as well. But it can be done and has been done. My experiments are in their final stages, and I estimate that the force to stand against the Ministry will be complete by the Ides of March."

"Are we truly to buy into this outsider?" a voice I knew as Lucius Malfoy echoed from the swarm of black robes and empty minds.

I rolled my eyes, noticeably, for all to see. "Yes, I expected as much," I then tilted my head back and called: "Number sixty-seven. You can come out now."

What emerged from the darkness behind me was a creature no one there was expecting to see. It stood an enormous nine feet tall, with a shoulder width of roughly half that measurement. It was coated in black fur, and had many features of a panther aside from the unusual body structure and ability to stand firmly on two legs. Its paws had four fingers and an opposable thumb, and at its side was the sheath to a broadsword, which dangled well above the ground. The eyes seemed almost to glow in a golden colour.

"Gentlemen," I spoke once more, "This is the basic trooper of our army. I like to call them the Crinos units. Equipped with either a melee or ranged weapon along with naturally sharp claws and teeth, its arsenal can be stated as impressive. Its capabilities do not end there. Each Crinos is given a crash course in one form of kung-fu, which varies with the unit in order to maximize effectivity, for it forces their opponents to adapt with each encounter. This training they pick up at an extraordinary rate. And, of course, they have their cat-like reflexes," I turned to #67 and bowed, "You may begin the demonstration."

What ensued was a planned, coreographed, twenty-seven minute and thirty-two second display of the prowess of the Crinos. I need not go into detail, as their abilities are now quite well known. Once the demonstration was over, I turned to the Death Eaters, some of whom were still scowling. "And one last feature which should turn those frowns into grins..."

I whipped out my wand and pointed it directly at the Crinos unit. "Imperio!"

I did not have to look behind me to know that several muscles tensed at that moment. They relaxed shortly thereafter, however, when it was realized that the curse had absolutely no effect on #67. "Remarkable!" a voice I could not identify broke the silence.

"And these are the base units?" another chimed in.

"We'll be unstoppable!"

I chuckled to myself as quietly as possible. If they only knew that this army would never do anything more than nothing. I had no intention of marching them into the field of battle to be slaughtered. No, they were merely to assist me in making a stand against the Death Eaters and forcing Voldemort to give me what I wanted... a way home.

I saw Voldemort looking at me at that moment, as the others discussed with glee the consequences of this conquest. The look was not one of approval. It was one of caution. It evaporated quickly into a nondescript gaze, but the cautious look disturbed me. Did he realize my plan? Did he have a counter ready, just in case?

They had other business which didn't concern me, and I found myself glad to leave their presence that night. The gleeful look in their eyes at the capacity for a creature to kill... the admiration they held for it. I suppose we as humans never really can escape our Adolfs.

* * *

I take it that Snape didn't like taking that roundhouse kick to the face. He probably liked it a bit more than spitting out that tooth, though. Tough shit if he didn't like either. He could magically recover the tooth anyway, and I was not in the mood to restrain my flared temper.

"What the hell are you playing at, Snape!?" my voice made the air crackle around me. It actually gave me pause, for it had never done that before.

In that pause, Snape gave me a response. "We need more time. It's the same thing I tell you after every meeting. Patience!"

"Patience? My army will be ready in two months, Snape. Do you know how many lives will be needlessly lost if this comes to war?"

He glared at me. "What a mouth you've got on you tonight, Telarius. I've half a mind to turn you in for assaulting a faculty member!"

I laughed. "Do that, and I'll tell them the truth about that visit to the hospital wing. I'm sure that Dumbledore would love to hear that you nearly strangled me to death."

His glare remained, but his voice was pacified. "Consider this penance," I said, "For that act. We each lose our temper from time to time. You lost yours, and now I've lost mine."

"Harry Potter is not ready to take him on."

"And when will he be?"

"...I don't know. Three more months," Snape guessed, rising to his feet and wiping blood from his chin.

I sighed. "We have two, professor. And I've half a mind to believe that, against the better judgement of all, you haven't even approached him on this subject."

"What am I supposed to do?!" Snape shouted at me, suddenly flared, "Teach him how to destroy Voldemort's spirit? He doesn't want to hurt anybody. His hands will be soiled, and he'll see himself as no better. He needs more time. A few more years..."

"We don't have a few more years!!! We have two months!!!"

"And whose fault is that?" Snape asked me, suddenly snide.

I had walked right into that one. It was my fault. Had I not told Snape that I was capable of preparing for a war, he would never have had to report it to Riddle. If he hadn't done that, Riddle would not have struck a deal with me... a deal I could not refuse for I did not have good reason to in the eyes of those present, loyal to him. And now I was trying to make up for my mistake and rid this world of Riddle. I knew what the fates had in store for him. I knew that Potter would be his demise. I wanted to prevent this war and bring Riddle down in one shot. Potter could do it, but would need to be trained in the finer arts of magical dueling. Once trained, he could take Riddle any day of the week in a fair duel. Riddle would not back down from the challenge, as it would look weak to his followers to back down from a boy. He would not cheat, either, as it would once again weaken his position. I was certain of it. The only thing I was lacking was the cooperation of Harry Potter.

I shook my head. "I need more time to think on this, Professor," I said, choosing to avoid directly taking the blame for the situation we were now in. It wasn't that I denied it, but rather felt that it didn't need reiteration. "Give me until after the second challenge. Then, hopefully, I'll come up with another plan. One that doesn't involve the Ministry losing all of its aurors in a needless war."

He looked at me, evenly for longer than I cared to count. It was uncomfortable, but I made eye contact with him throughout. "You have not truly sold out to him. That's good. I admire your strength, Telarius."

A smile came upon me from somewhere I cannot recall. "Thank you," we set to walking, and I put my hand on his shoulder. "You know... for what it's worth, I'm sorry I slugged you."

He smirked. It seemed to suit him. "That's okay. I'm sorry I strangled you."

"No big deal. Buy you a drink?"

"You're not old enough."

"Yes I am."

He laughed at that moment, and I did buy him that drink, using some of the money I had loaned from Phillip the night before. We talked after that like old chums, oddly enough. The relationship between Snape and myself was an interesting case, though that is a tale for a later date.

* * *

One month had passed. It was honestly hard to believe. All of that time when by, taking classes, having some fun, and planning and replanning. I will not lie about my progress by that time. I was no closer to finding a solution to this dilemma which threatened all life. One month had passed.

Breakfast did not taste right today. I had resolved to eat it because I knew I would need the energy. I had nothing for my compatriots. Nothing to prove that they were not with fault in choosing me to lead them. My suppositions were still immature and my plans all shot to hell by that confrontation with Snape. I suppose I could have been more prepared had I not spent so many nights trying to keep my mental depression in check. Still, they had instisted, and I could not deny them what they felt was best for me. Nor myself, I suddenly thought as I took a rather generous bite out of my toasted bagel. Any way it could be sliced, my plans would not have reached maturity by this point, regardless of what happened and what I did.

One month had passed.

As I sat through my classes, drifting between paying attention and pondering this situation, I grasped at what I did have for them. I decided that what I had were straws. Mental straws, or thought straws, if you will, but straws never-the-less. If they were collected together and bound with a tight cord, they'd still be straws. Just many straws in an organized bundle. Useless. Garbage. Oh, certainly I could dodge about and say some wonderous things that dazzled them with my intellect and/or my capacity for self-expression. Certainly I could explain to them my strategy of several weeks ago, before that dreadful confrontation. But would I be giving them anything of substance?

One month had passed.

For lunch, I ate hearty, as my appetite suddenly awakened. Cordelia attempted conversation on her usual front, but found my mind in such constant thought that she decided communication on any front to be a poor choice. I am certain that they all had done as I asked them. Some may even have gone above and beyond what was expected of them. Perhaps even all of them. This thought caused me to drop my spoon into my pudding in such a fashion that it splashed some high and to my right.

Unfortunately, it got Goyle square in the face. He stood up to his full height, glaring down at me. "What was that all about, Shade?"

Goyle was quick to temper, I knew. I cursed under my breath for being so clumsy in my moment of thought. It wasn't that I considered myself infallible. I just felt that I should have been capable of deep, logical, analytical thought while simultaneously maintaining my basic motor skills. Obviously I was mistaken, which made me more annoyed with myself than I already was. Still, I could not allow emotion to enter into this. I would likely only get Goyle angrier.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself?" he persisted, poking me with his large, bulbous index.

I cursed the slowness of my thoughts. I knew I was tired, but they should be faster. I should be able to think of ways out of simple situations such as this without taking more than a few seconds... shouldn't I? Perhaps I wasn't giving myself enough credit. These were my thoughts at this time, in that order. I stood to address him, attempting to not give the impression that confrontation was a desire of mine.

"My sincerest of apologies, Goyle," I was truly apologetic, and it reflected in my voice, "I meant no offense. It was purely unintentional. I was caught in deep thought and lost grip on the spoon."

Goyle reached forward and grabbed me by the collar. I knew he was strong, but I was surprised when he picked me up off the floor. Sure, he was using both hands, but I did not consider myself to be that light. "I can assure you, Shade, I won't lose mine."

"Set him down, Goyle," came a voice from across the table.

I looked at the same time as Goyle to the voice's source. Malfoy glared at Goyle. "Set him down. He's done nothing wrong," Malfoy said again.

"He's a mudblood, though. You said it yourself," Goyle protested.

They continued to spat back and forth for a bit while I was still dangling a good six inches off the ground. I assessed my opponent, found the points of his grip, and considered how I might escape. I was not grounded, which made any action I was to perform that much harder. There were few actions I could perform without leverage, which made matters even more difficult...

Curses! I was starting to lose my breath. His gross thumbs were pressing at my throat a little too close. I wasn't thinking fast enough, once again. I resolved to act before I lost conciousness and thusly valuable planning time.

I brought my legs up, which was not an easy task, believe me, and planted my feet in Goyle's abdomen. This kick did nothing to him, as I had little strength without grounding. However, now that my feet were rooted in something, my options increased. My hands shot forward to his shoulders, and when I had a good grip on them, I let my body fall into position with my legs as it wanted to do. I brought myself closer to him in this position, bending my legs as I did so, and then kicked up and out, directing him with my arms.

This should not have worked. That being said, he flew a good six feet behind me, and I did a quick breakfall to prevent any further damage to myself. What had just occured was not physically possible. I had used my sorcerous talents to make the floor beneath him slick. All he needed was a little push backward to lose his footing, and then I was able to throw him. This was the second bit of magic I performed as I created an invisible tablet upon which I laid to give me the leverage necessary to accomplish this feat. I dispelled them both quickly, of course, to not give myself away.

Goyle got to his feet to come back at me, but the fight, as it were, was broken up before it could get any father. I allowed myself a sigh of relief as I was sat back down and instructed to finish eating. I wanted to finish eating. I was hungry.

I cursed my mind again. I guess it wasn't a good thing to do, really. Constantly beating on something that isn't working as you want it to isn't going to make it work any better. To make a long story short, the day passed into dinner time uneventfully except for a reprimand for the physical confrontation by Snape. His punishment could have been harder, such as detention. I think he sympathized, and I thanked him for it, mentally.

One month had passed.

I took time out of the Slytherin House before we were all required to be in bed for the night. This was planned, in order to make my travel off school grounds easier and less suspicious. I had found my way into one of the four towers which graced the corners of the castle. From this vantage point, I saw the sun descending in the west. Sunsets were always beautiful to me, regardless of the time of year. This one was no different. I reflected for a moment, realizing that this sunset was quite like all of the others I had seen in my years. The only thing which made this sunset different was the experiences leading up to it.

My mind usually raced like a bullet train. I had always thought that, mentally speaking, I would be able to think as fast as was needed for any given situation. Now I have found that, provided enough stress, I have a limit I never knew was there. I felt a tear streak down my cheek. I felt helpless. I knew that if I didn't have a plan, we'd all die. Riddle would never keep his word, even if I did side with him.

~I can help you, you know,~ came a voice long absent from my mind.

~Xorlempt. It's been a while since you spoke to me,~ I addressed him.

~Your mind has not been serene enough to allow for communication in a long time. There is a block on your intellect, you know. A stopper on your thought processes. You are perfectly capable of what you believe yourself to be and more. However, you are limited by human experiences and human mental limitations. No human being was ever meant to act as a computer."

~What know you of computers? I thought you existed in the magical world.~

~There are many things which I have realized that I must confess to you if you are to survive."

~And they would be...?~

~First of all, I am not a Psyche. We are linked together because we are supposed to be linked together. The Psyche incident merely allowed me to manifest without undue suspicion.~

I blinked a few times. I realized, subconciously, that I was prone to doing that whenever I was confused or caught off guard. I would have to try and stop that, though I believed I would merely develop another, similar mannerism to take its place.

When I did not respond, it went on. ~I can not tell you my origin just yet. Soon, though. Then I will remove the limit on your mind. Your thoughts will be quicker than they have ever been, and you'll be able to process data and compute a result as if you were a Mentat.~

I understood the reference, having recently read the work to which that is an allusion. ~Of course, you won't actually be a Mentat,~ Xorlempt went on, ~Things work differently in the real world. Needless to say, though, your mind will be more active.~

~Why can I not achieve this now?~ I asked him.

~The timing is wrong,~ he responded, and I somehow knew that he was correct. It aggravated me.

Our conversation was over at that point, and I set to watching the sunset again. I pondered on what he told me. I was being held back by human limitations. Was he implying that I was destined to become something other than human? Or was he simply going to facilitate a change in me? I felt awkward and ill at ease at that moment. I wanted to earn this higher level of thinking on my own, without assistance. If it is simply given to me, I'll never be able to think of it as anything more than a borrowed talent. I wanted this method of thought of which he spoke to be a part of me. Not something implanted. Something that was always there.

I was troubled by my thoughts at that moment. It was ego leaking in, I knew. Still, mine was an ego ill-stroked by any. I suppose they felt that, because I was possessed of grand abilities, then I must already have the ego assumed to go with it.

And damn it were they ever wrong.

One month had passed... and the only success I could credit myself to was making matters worse on every front.