Fan Fiction ❯ The Weaver Telarius ❯ Enter Phillip ( Chapter 7 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Sir Telarius 
The secrets of Weaving revealed (well, mostly), and the first set of lines for the character known as Phillip Kennistence.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Psychological / / Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.27.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 156 | Status: Work In Progress
The secrets of Weaving revealed (well, mostly), and the first set of lines for the character known as Phillip Kennistence.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Psychological / / Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.27.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 156 | Status: Work In Progress
One in front and one in back. It was the worst position I could possibly have been in. Worse yet, these two individuals were both close to my equals in skill. If I were up against either one of them alone, or even both of them in front of me, it would be another matter. A simple expulsion was their weakness... they didn't like to have their blades misdirected. The action completely threw them off. However, if I expelled to my front, I would be run through my rear, and if I expelled my rear, the front would get the best of me.
To complicate matters, there needed to be a split second of withdrawl when one runs another through. During this time, I would fall easy prey to the weapon of the other. Also, these opponents cared not for their lives, for they were mere constructs of someone's will. One would make a sacrifice and the other would go in for the kill. Any way you slice it, I was dead.
A beat quarte, feint, thrust and lunge were the movements that I anticipated. I merely parried the attack, making no effort to riposte, but keeping opposition until I felt the intent of a cut towards my back. I pulled into septiema for the parry and reoriented for a slow overhead cut. Of course it would have done nothing, for, much to my dismay, my weapon had only a point, but the bluff was called. I used the force of my cut to expell the blade now at my front, then continued the momentum toward my rear, pulling into tierce on the other side just in time to catch the cut to my midsection.
From tierce, I feinted with a thrust, and the feint was successful. A simple doublé and I had the opening. I did not take it, but waited for the response to the open line on my part. The simultaneous attack was difficult to parry on instinct, but I found that, by pulling into octave while lunging forward, I had time before the redoublemont to turn about and parry septiem.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. As I parried septiem and then returned to the neutral gaurd position, being tierce in this stance, the opponent now to my front purposefully ran onto my point. I cursed my luck, and that is all I had time to do, for as I attempted to withdraw my blade, I felt a sharp pain in my back, then through my chest.
* * *
I awoke with a start, and found myself feeling rather unpleasant. It took a few minutes for my breathing to return to something resembling normal. I rested my head upon the pillow once more, and sat to pondering the dream I just had. It was shockingly real, so much so that I was surprised that I didn't die in my sleep. I knew, suddenly, that Xorlempt woke me up when he felt my heart stop. The gasps of air suddenly made more sense. It was a good thing that Xorlempt did not need rest, else this body would be feeding worms.
I wondered what would happen if this body were to die. It truly was not my own, but my spirit needed something to inhabit, did it not? Would I return to my world? Hang in spiritual limbo forever? The probability of the end result being something undesireable was too great to experiment along those lines.
Well, I had just been robbed of several hours of sleep. First time I dream in almost an eternity, and it almost kills me. Perhaps it was better just to not achieve sleep at all.
Nah.
* * *
I decided, after much internal debate, that I would approach Phillip first. There was a problem in dealing with Meriam that I would have to address with Deanne before seeking an audience. I found it quite difficult to get the man alone. In his time here, he had matriculated himself into the world quite nicely, and I was impressed by his progress. If he arrived here at the apparent age that I did, then he would have been here for several years.
It was on a cold day in November that I was finally able to pull him aside. Well, perhaps that isn't the proper wording for what happened that day. There had been a light dusting of snow, and the ground made a slight crunching noise when stepped upon. As December grew nearer and nearer still, I became more worried. Deanne said that the first challenge was retrieving an egg guarded by a dragon in the books. If this first challenge was anything like that, I might be in trouble.
It was just after our class in potions, where I had been clumsy enough to let some windrake root fall into the correction solution. Now, I knew what the result of such an action would have been, for windrake root mixed with a few of the ingredients of the correction solution create an acid potent enough to eat through my cauldron. Luckily, I Xorlempt informed me of a spell that would protect the cauldron from the acid, and performed it immediately to remedy the mistake. This was accompanied by several strange looks from my classmates, and a puzzled one from Snape.
Class was dismissed and I went about my merry way, attempting to concoct a plan to corner Phillip so that I might speak with him. That's about when he cornered me.
"Hey, how did you do that?" he asked me, suddenly.
I looked about me. The hall was empty, which was quite unusual, but comforting. "What? The seal? Simple. Selaus and then what you're attempting to seal, which was the solution, or rather acid, at the time."
He shook his head. "Do you realize why everyone gave you strange looks after you used that spell?"
I blinked a few times. "No, that did seem rather odd. I have a feeling that you're going to explain it to me, though."
He smirked a bit, which I suppose was a good sign. "Follow me."
We were heading towards the library, I knew. I wondered many things while on our approach. Things such as why he had confronted me, what he was going to tell me, and why I had no clue toward either end.
When we arrived in the library, he gestured for me to take a seat at one of the study tables, and then walked off, apparently to find a book. I leaned back in the chair at an almost impossible angle, choosing to adjust my center of gravity through posture so that I could accomplish the greater lean. He returned, and had a dusty tome opened to a page somewhere in the five hundred range. He pointed to a paragraph, and I read:
'Spells crafted by Weavers take one thousand years to fully work themselves into the magical weave. Until such a time, only a Weaver may use a spell crafted by another Weaver. Spells to date of this nature include the Selaus spell, which was crafted nine hundred and fifty years ago.'
I shrugged after reading the passage. "And?"
Phillip almost did a face fault. It was most amusing. "Do you know what any of that means?"
I nodded. "Yes, I'm a Weaver. Somehow, I can take the fabric of magic and use it to create spells which only myself and other Weavers may use until one thousand years pass. What's your point?"
He regarded me for a long time across the table. "I know you."
"I was an instructor of yours in the ways of combat, though I was not quite as old as you..."
His eyes widened. "Then you're..."
I held my hand up, quickly. "No, do not name me. We know who we are, now, and that is all that is necessary. Better not to potentially allow a third party into this information."
He nodded in agreement. "I should have guessed, though. Telarius, after all..."
"Yes, I would've preferred a less obvious alias, but I suppose it carries with it a certain sense of pride and dignity, at least for myself."
"Yes, I suppose so. So, how long have you been here?"
"Only since the beginning of the term, really."
"You've matriculated yourself into the world quite nicely... but a Weaver, of all things..."
I nodded. "Yes, I know. I must confess to you that I have yet to discover how to craft a spell, but I have a theory that may prove to work."
"Then you're closer than I am, and you've not been here nearly as long."
"Then my suspicions were correct? You arrived here before I..." I did a double-take, "Closer than you? What do you mean?"
"I have also performed the Selaus spell," Phillip answered, plainly.
I paused. "Well, this certainly complicates matters."
He nodded, sharply. "I thought that it might. Do you have any idea as to why we're here?"
"No, but I must inform you that there are others from our world, here," I took this opportunity to put my glasses on, figuring that, even if he did know of their nature, he was at least on my side.
"Others, you say?"
I could not answer that question. I was two concerned with what I was learning. He was powerful. Incredibly powerful. In time, and practice, he could become exceptional at the arts of magic. He was not getting the instinctual draw to weave that I was, meaning that he would need to be taught. But, with this much potential, I could not allow him to be taught by anyone I didn't know.
"Yes, but it is of no consequence right now. We'll have plenty of time to meet with the others. There is a more important matter to address. You need a mentor. Tonight, I believe I shall discover the secret of Weaving. Once that is accomplished, Xorlempt informs me that I will understand enough to pass along the necessary information," my words were urgent enough to sound so.
"Then you are to be my teacher once more?"
"Annoying, I know. Bear with me, though. I'll not have another teach you, for I trust no one but those I know."
"When do you ever trust anyone?"
"When I have them at swordpoint."
* * *
That night, I stole away from dinner so that I might have alone time in the Slytherin House. I sat to pondering for the first few minutes of my time, and then broke out my wand. I had a theory about this whole weaving thing.
"Accio accio," I spoke as I gave my wand a bit of a wave.
What happened next, I am not capable of describing. The structure of the spell was before me, as that is what I had summoned. It was like a web with nodes. Picture a molecule, with each atom being one of the nodes and each bond being a strand of webbing. I gingerly touched my wand to one of the nodes, and it glowed.
Through the course of the night, I found that I could move each node around, and different nodes were colour coordinated for different purposes. It would take me a while to learn what was what, and I decided that trial and error, while risky, was my only option. Each spell had it's own matrix. Knowing the nature of spells allowed me to realize what some of the nodes must be for. For example, in the accio spell, obviously several of the nodes had to be for movement, while others were for seeking. On the other hand, the cruciatus curse, or crucio, as it is spoken in spell form, dealt with attacking pain centers. Each had a common node for seeking, though, and once I found that, I recorded the colour in a notebook. Trial and error now seemed trivial compared to this researching method.
I expelled the accio spell with the banishment spell of expelliarum, and then I summoned that spell's matrix. I pondered for a moment over the two matrices before me. I then summoned the accio spell again, and pondered some more. Then, I set to weaving. Moving certain nodes, eliminating others, it was an interesting process. I made two spells that night, one using crucio and expelliarum, and another using crucio, expelliarum, and accio. The first was simple. It was a spell which could be placed upon a person that would protect them from one casting of the cruciatus curse. The other was a cruciatus curse which could be performed at distance, without line of sight, so long as the target was specified. When I set each into the magical pattern of reality, I scribed the name by which they would be invoked. The former was crucio negatus and the latter crucio specificus. I found that specificus was the name entered when a target would be specified. Hence, accio was really two spells. Accio, which summoned what one points their wand at, and then accio specificus, which specifies the desired object.
With a start, I realized the power which I had. The cruciatus curse at distance was bad enough, but I could do the same thing with avada kedavra. I resolved, at that moment, not to share all of my illuminations immediately with Phillip. I trusted him to do what was best at the time, but weaving a spell into reality could have startling ramifications when it became a part of the total magical matrix in a generation's time. At least I had developed a counter spell, of sorts. Crucio negatus would last until it was threatened, and thus a person could be forever protected from the evils of the other spell. Thankfully, crucio specificus was quite a powerful spell, while crucio negatus was fairly simple. Only those with the most potential could wield the power I just threw into the mix in a thousand years.
There was much to think about, but I decided to continue weaving. Now that I understood the method, and the ramifications for my actions, I chose carefully what spells I would create. There was one, of note, that will be important later, as you well know. I named it x. It would protect the user from all spells save one which they personally specify. It was a spell suffix, so you would say the spell you wished to be allowed through, and then x afterwards. Of course, only certain spells could be specified, and none of them were nice. I wasn't about to create a totally invincible defense, after all. That would just be silly.
I also found another interesting note about weaving. I could declare certain individuals fit to cast my spells even before the generation marker had past. With that in mind, I created several spells for Deanne, who, under the view of my lens, seemed to have a magical knack for destruction, especially dealing with the element of fire.
I knew not of Meriam's specialties, yet, so no spells for her. Anything which I wove would be useable by Phillip, and that, in itself, was an advantage. After all... there were spells that I wove which I couldn't use, but he would be able to. So, I designed a few of them with him in mind. After a time, I started naming spells the way that I wished and giving up the pseudo-latin naming game. It seemed better this way.
"Having fun, are we?" a voice from around the corner spoke.
Leaping straight up must have been a humourous site. It was a shame that no one could see me at the moment. I banished what I was working on and cleared my throat. "Pardon?" I had no idea who was talking, though the voice seemed familiar.
I heard footsteps, but saw nothing. The voice was closer when it spoke. "What devious scheme are you cooking up now, Telarius? Who are you going to hurt next?"
Invisibility. Interesting. I thought about putting on my spectacles and ending this charade, but I paused. It might be more of a challenge to figure out who this was without them. In addition, I was curious as to what they were talking about. If I named them, they might retreat, and I prefer the maximum amount of information.
"Hurt? I don't recall hurting anyone. All I've done has been in people's best interests."
"You lie worse than any Slytherin I've even known, Telarius. You hurt my friend, and I cannot forgive that."
"Perhaps you did not hear me clearly. I have hurt no one."
I felt it. It was deliberate, and direct. I was hit, not with a spell or enchantment, but with the balled fist of an angered human. I felt teeth loosening, and the blow was more dizzying than usual because I could not see it coming. I rolled with the punch at the last moment, causing me to move off of my chair and onto the floor. I stood and turned towards the direction that I sensed my assailant to be in. I wiped my mouth, saw blood upon the back of my hand, then glared in that direction. I felt hesitation. I decided to feed off of it.
"If you have a quarrel with me, then deal with me in an honourable fashion. This display of cowardice is a disgrace to Gryffindor House," yes, it was a bluff. I had no idea if my assailant was from Gryffindor or not. Still, it seemed the best choice, since Ravenclaw had no quarrel with me. Malivore was a Gryffindor. Perhaps that was who this was... but how could that be? I hadn't even been in contact with anyone who Malivore knew. To my knowledge, he was a grade A student with few friends.
I heard the steps moving in the direction away from me. I quickly donned my spectacles, and was shocked with what the lenses showed me. A decent fellow, with a large amount of undue hatred towards me. He had just wronged me and dishonoured me. Such an insult was typically unforgivable unless a formal apology was made. Thus is my personal code of honour. And so, I sat the rest of the night in puzzlement over this Harry Potter.
* * *
Why a match was being held so early in the morning, I'll never know. I wasn't entirely awake, needless to say, and was filled with angst towards the world in general. If it folded in on itself, so be it, so long as I could have a bit more sleep and I could live my life with my love in peace. Neither would happen, though.
As I took the field with my team mates, I could smell the early dew of morning crystalizing in the cold of winter. It was actually rather pleasant, and served to wake me up a trifle. It had been a few weeks since the incident in Slyterin House with Potter. Since that time, he had wronged me in ways far worse.
He insulted Deanne by claiming that I had her under the imperious curse. Knowing that I did not have the authority to take away points from Gryffindor House, he made the day of the full moon most hellish on me, for I had to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts that day. I had not known him to be capable of such beligerance. It gets better, though.
He all but told the other schools that I was a demon. My reputation, formerly ambiguous, became quite tarnished. After all, Harry Potter was famous and liked, and people tended to believe him over myself. The amount of nasty rumours running through the school about me at that period of my stay at Hogwarts could not be counted easily with an abbacus.
There were other instances, too, but I do not feel as though they need to be mentioned. The point has been made. At any rate, that day's match was against Gryffindor House, and I intended to show them no mercy.
When the match began, I was ready for action. Not a single bludger touched my team mates, and I managed to distract the Weasleys enough with my aim to put the Quaffle in Slytherin hands for the majority of the game. We dominated them, and it was glorious when our Seeker caught the snitch and ended the game in victory for us.
There was a problem, though. The bludgers were still moving, and one was heading right at me. I went to beat it in a random direction, but I have a bad habit of checking my mark, and there he was. Harry Potter. I felt the urge to swing, to drive that thing right at him. It was either him or me. Why shouldn't it be him?
For the record, taking a bludger to the ribs is not a good idea, under any circumstances. I attempted to breathe, but found that I couldn't. My lowest ribs had punctured my lungs. That in itself was painful, but not being able to absorb oxygen was a bit more problematic. I spun to the ground, faster and faster, all the while thinking that, if he'd seen what I just did, then he'd at least be confused. That was good enough for me.
* * *
The hospital wing was all too familiar to me, now, and Deanne was there. I found myself on some sort of life support. I hadn't noticed, but apparently, while two ribs went in and punctured my lungs, two others went out and tore through my skin. That must not have been a pretty sight. At the moment, the surface wounds were still there, but the ribs had been replaced, and a generous amount of gauze now covered the area of the wound.
"This is the second time I've seen you close to death. You're starting to acquire bad habits," I heard my love quote. It was not her original words, but they fit too well.
I chuckled, which hurt a bit. In as loud of a voice as I could muster, I responded. "I did something rather selfless... again. I suppose I should stop that, eh?"
She nuzzled me, affectionately. "You have a visitor, love. I'll leave him with you..."
She seemed to pause for a moment, but left as she said she would. I sat up, though the process was beyond painful, and turned my head to meet the face of Harry Potter. I snorted. "I believe you're missing the salt," my voice was but a whisper, for I could muster no else, and I had to draw breaths in between two to three word phrases.
He crossed to the foot of my bed, still on the right side. "Why did you do that? I would have taken at worst a broken arm. Instead, you let the bludger almost kill you. Why?"
I met his eyes with my own. "Misunderstandings are common and unfortunate, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, you and I are both victims of a gross misunderstanding... one which all parties cannot be made aware of, else all that I have worked for toward that end will be lost."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Hermione... and Cordelia."
He tilted his head, slightly. Hermione was the reason that he had been so vicious to me of late. "Go on..."
"Have you not noticed how they have become? They are as friends. In their mutual hatred of me, they have brought two once bitterly rivalled houses to at least a level of understanding."
"Yes, I've noticed this."
"And all because I set it up to be that way."
He blinked. "What?!"
I nodded, sharply. "It was my intention to set up the dates so that they overlapped... and for them to become upset with me. Their anger made them friends as opposed to enemies... and positive ended up outweighing negative."
"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" he asked as he regarded me, suspiciously.
I glared. "I'm not taking a cruciatus curse to prove it to you, Potter. If this wasn't good enough, then I suppose we can never have understanding."
My words were bitter, but Harry seemed to realize that the truth was being spoken on my part. "I find myself with a great deal to apologize for..."
I gave a small wave of my hand. "Don't bother with it, Potter. We all make mistakes."
And with that, I passed out. Blissful unconciousness allowed me to heal more quickly, and the first challenge was only in a few more days. I had no clue what it would be, and had done little to prepare myself for it. Things, in general, were just not going my way at all.
It was time to inform Cordelia of the truth, as well. She would be able to continue the charade that she originally thought was truth.
To complicate matters, there needed to be a split second of withdrawl when one runs another through. During this time, I would fall easy prey to the weapon of the other. Also, these opponents cared not for their lives, for they were mere constructs of someone's will. One would make a sacrifice and the other would go in for the kill. Any way you slice it, I was dead.
A beat quarte, feint, thrust and lunge were the movements that I anticipated. I merely parried the attack, making no effort to riposte, but keeping opposition until I felt the intent of a cut towards my back. I pulled into septiema for the parry and reoriented for a slow overhead cut. Of course it would have done nothing, for, much to my dismay, my weapon had only a point, but the bluff was called. I used the force of my cut to expell the blade now at my front, then continued the momentum toward my rear, pulling into tierce on the other side just in time to catch the cut to my midsection.
From tierce, I feinted with a thrust, and the feint was successful. A simple doublé and I had the opening. I did not take it, but waited for the response to the open line on my part. The simultaneous attack was difficult to parry on instinct, but I found that, by pulling into octave while lunging forward, I had time before the redoublemont to turn about and parry septiem.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. As I parried septiem and then returned to the neutral gaurd position, being tierce in this stance, the opponent now to my front purposefully ran onto my point. I cursed my luck, and that is all I had time to do, for as I attempted to withdraw my blade, I felt a sharp pain in my back, then through my chest.
* * *
I awoke with a start, and found myself feeling rather unpleasant. It took a few minutes for my breathing to return to something resembling normal. I rested my head upon the pillow once more, and sat to pondering the dream I just had. It was shockingly real, so much so that I was surprised that I didn't die in my sleep. I knew, suddenly, that Xorlempt woke me up when he felt my heart stop. The gasps of air suddenly made more sense. It was a good thing that Xorlempt did not need rest, else this body would be feeding worms.
I wondered what would happen if this body were to die. It truly was not my own, but my spirit needed something to inhabit, did it not? Would I return to my world? Hang in spiritual limbo forever? The probability of the end result being something undesireable was too great to experiment along those lines.
Well, I had just been robbed of several hours of sleep. First time I dream in almost an eternity, and it almost kills me. Perhaps it was better just to not achieve sleep at all.
Nah.
* * *
I decided, after much internal debate, that I would approach Phillip first. There was a problem in dealing with Meriam that I would have to address with Deanne before seeking an audience. I found it quite difficult to get the man alone. In his time here, he had matriculated himself into the world quite nicely, and I was impressed by his progress. If he arrived here at the apparent age that I did, then he would have been here for several years.
It was on a cold day in November that I was finally able to pull him aside. Well, perhaps that isn't the proper wording for what happened that day. There had been a light dusting of snow, and the ground made a slight crunching noise when stepped upon. As December grew nearer and nearer still, I became more worried. Deanne said that the first challenge was retrieving an egg guarded by a dragon in the books. If this first challenge was anything like that, I might be in trouble.
It was just after our class in potions, where I had been clumsy enough to let some windrake root fall into the correction solution. Now, I knew what the result of such an action would have been, for windrake root mixed with a few of the ingredients of the correction solution create an acid potent enough to eat through my cauldron. Luckily, I Xorlempt informed me of a spell that would protect the cauldron from the acid, and performed it immediately to remedy the mistake. This was accompanied by several strange looks from my classmates, and a puzzled one from Snape.
Class was dismissed and I went about my merry way, attempting to concoct a plan to corner Phillip so that I might speak with him. That's about when he cornered me.
"Hey, how did you do that?" he asked me, suddenly.
I looked about me. The hall was empty, which was quite unusual, but comforting. "What? The seal? Simple. Selaus and then what you're attempting to seal, which was the solution, or rather acid, at the time."
He shook his head. "Do you realize why everyone gave you strange looks after you used that spell?"
I blinked a few times. "No, that did seem rather odd. I have a feeling that you're going to explain it to me, though."
He smirked a bit, which I suppose was a good sign. "Follow me."
We were heading towards the library, I knew. I wondered many things while on our approach. Things such as why he had confronted me, what he was going to tell me, and why I had no clue toward either end.
When we arrived in the library, he gestured for me to take a seat at one of the study tables, and then walked off, apparently to find a book. I leaned back in the chair at an almost impossible angle, choosing to adjust my center of gravity through posture so that I could accomplish the greater lean. He returned, and had a dusty tome opened to a page somewhere in the five hundred range. He pointed to a paragraph, and I read:
'Spells crafted by Weavers take one thousand years to fully work themselves into the magical weave. Until such a time, only a Weaver may use a spell crafted by another Weaver. Spells to date of this nature include the Selaus spell, which was crafted nine hundred and fifty years ago.'
I shrugged after reading the passage. "And?"
Phillip almost did a face fault. It was most amusing. "Do you know what any of that means?"
I nodded. "Yes, I'm a Weaver. Somehow, I can take the fabric of magic and use it to create spells which only myself and other Weavers may use until one thousand years pass. What's your point?"
He regarded me for a long time across the table. "I know you."
"I was an instructor of yours in the ways of combat, though I was not quite as old as you..."
His eyes widened. "Then you're..."
I held my hand up, quickly. "No, do not name me. We know who we are, now, and that is all that is necessary. Better not to potentially allow a third party into this information."
He nodded in agreement. "I should have guessed, though. Telarius, after all..."
"Yes, I would've preferred a less obvious alias, but I suppose it carries with it a certain sense of pride and dignity, at least for myself."
"Yes, I suppose so. So, how long have you been here?"
"Only since the beginning of the term, really."
"You've matriculated yourself into the world quite nicely... but a Weaver, of all things..."
I nodded. "Yes, I know. I must confess to you that I have yet to discover how to craft a spell, but I have a theory that may prove to work."
"Then you're closer than I am, and you've not been here nearly as long."
"Then my suspicions were correct? You arrived here before I..." I did a double-take, "Closer than you? What do you mean?"
"I have also performed the Selaus spell," Phillip answered, plainly.
I paused. "Well, this certainly complicates matters."
He nodded, sharply. "I thought that it might. Do you have any idea as to why we're here?"
"No, but I must inform you that there are others from our world, here," I took this opportunity to put my glasses on, figuring that, even if he did know of their nature, he was at least on my side.
"Others, you say?"
I could not answer that question. I was two concerned with what I was learning. He was powerful. Incredibly powerful. In time, and practice, he could become exceptional at the arts of magic. He was not getting the instinctual draw to weave that I was, meaning that he would need to be taught. But, with this much potential, I could not allow him to be taught by anyone I didn't know.
"Yes, but it is of no consequence right now. We'll have plenty of time to meet with the others. There is a more important matter to address. You need a mentor. Tonight, I believe I shall discover the secret of Weaving. Once that is accomplished, Xorlempt informs me that I will understand enough to pass along the necessary information," my words were urgent enough to sound so.
"Then you are to be my teacher once more?"
"Annoying, I know. Bear with me, though. I'll not have another teach you, for I trust no one but those I know."
"When do you ever trust anyone?"
"When I have them at swordpoint."
* * *
That night, I stole away from dinner so that I might have alone time in the Slytherin House. I sat to pondering for the first few minutes of my time, and then broke out my wand. I had a theory about this whole weaving thing.
"Accio accio," I spoke as I gave my wand a bit of a wave.
What happened next, I am not capable of describing. The structure of the spell was before me, as that is what I had summoned. It was like a web with nodes. Picture a molecule, with each atom being one of the nodes and each bond being a strand of webbing. I gingerly touched my wand to one of the nodes, and it glowed.
Through the course of the night, I found that I could move each node around, and different nodes were colour coordinated for different purposes. It would take me a while to learn what was what, and I decided that trial and error, while risky, was my only option. Each spell had it's own matrix. Knowing the nature of spells allowed me to realize what some of the nodes must be for. For example, in the accio spell, obviously several of the nodes had to be for movement, while others were for seeking. On the other hand, the cruciatus curse, or crucio, as it is spoken in spell form, dealt with attacking pain centers. Each had a common node for seeking, though, and once I found that, I recorded the colour in a notebook. Trial and error now seemed trivial compared to this researching method.
I expelled the accio spell with the banishment spell of expelliarum, and then I summoned that spell's matrix. I pondered for a moment over the two matrices before me. I then summoned the accio spell again, and pondered some more. Then, I set to weaving. Moving certain nodes, eliminating others, it was an interesting process. I made two spells that night, one using crucio and expelliarum, and another using crucio, expelliarum, and accio. The first was simple. It was a spell which could be placed upon a person that would protect them from one casting of the cruciatus curse. The other was a cruciatus curse which could be performed at distance, without line of sight, so long as the target was specified. When I set each into the magical pattern of reality, I scribed the name by which they would be invoked. The former was crucio negatus and the latter crucio specificus. I found that specificus was the name entered when a target would be specified. Hence, accio was really two spells. Accio, which summoned what one points their wand at, and then accio specificus, which specifies the desired object.
With a start, I realized the power which I had. The cruciatus curse at distance was bad enough, but I could do the same thing with avada kedavra. I resolved, at that moment, not to share all of my illuminations immediately with Phillip. I trusted him to do what was best at the time, but weaving a spell into reality could have startling ramifications when it became a part of the total magical matrix in a generation's time. At least I had developed a counter spell, of sorts. Crucio negatus would last until it was threatened, and thus a person could be forever protected from the evils of the other spell. Thankfully, crucio specificus was quite a powerful spell, while crucio negatus was fairly simple. Only those with the most potential could wield the power I just threw into the mix in a thousand years.
There was much to think about, but I decided to continue weaving. Now that I understood the method, and the ramifications for my actions, I chose carefully what spells I would create. There was one, of note, that will be important later, as you well know. I named it x. It would protect the user from all spells save one which they personally specify. It was a spell suffix, so you would say the spell you wished to be allowed through, and then x afterwards. Of course, only certain spells could be specified, and none of them were nice. I wasn't about to create a totally invincible defense, after all. That would just be silly.
I also found another interesting note about weaving. I could declare certain individuals fit to cast my spells even before the generation marker had past. With that in mind, I created several spells for Deanne, who, under the view of my lens, seemed to have a magical knack for destruction, especially dealing with the element of fire.
I knew not of Meriam's specialties, yet, so no spells for her. Anything which I wove would be useable by Phillip, and that, in itself, was an advantage. After all... there were spells that I wove which I couldn't use, but he would be able to. So, I designed a few of them with him in mind. After a time, I started naming spells the way that I wished and giving up the pseudo-latin naming game. It seemed better this way.
"Having fun, are we?" a voice from around the corner spoke.
Leaping straight up must have been a humourous site. It was a shame that no one could see me at the moment. I banished what I was working on and cleared my throat. "Pardon?" I had no idea who was talking, though the voice seemed familiar.
I heard footsteps, but saw nothing. The voice was closer when it spoke. "What devious scheme are you cooking up now, Telarius? Who are you going to hurt next?"
Invisibility. Interesting. I thought about putting on my spectacles and ending this charade, but I paused. It might be more of a challenge to figure out who this was without them. In addition, I was curious as to what they were talking about. If I named them, they might retreat, and I prefer the maximum amount of information.
"Hurt? I don't recall hurting anyone. All I've done has been in people's best interests."
"You lie worse than any Slytherin I've even known, Telarius. You hurt my friend, and I cannot forgive that."
"Perhaps you did not hear me clearly. I have hurt no one."
I felt it. It was deliberate, and direct. I was hit, not with a spell or enchantment, but with the balled fist of an angered human. I felt teeth loosening, and the blow was more dizzying than usual because I could not see it coming. I rolled with the punch at the last moment, causing me to move off of my chair and onto the floor. I stood and turned towards the direction that I sensed my assailant to be in. I wiped my mouth, saw blood upon the back of my hand, then glared in that direction. I felt hesitation. I decided to feed off of it.
"If you have a quarrel with me, then deal with me in an honourable fashion. This display of cowardice is a disgrace to Gryffindor House," yes, it was a bluff. I had no idea if my assailant was from Gryffindor or not. Still, it seemed the best choice, since Ravenclaw had no quarrel with me. Malivore was a Gryffindor. Perhaps that was who this was... but how could that be? I hadn't even been in contact with anyone who Malivore knew. To my knowledge, he was a grade A student with few friends.
I heard the steps moving in the direction away from me. I quickly donned my spectacles, and was shocked with what the lenses showed me. A decent fellow, with a large amount of undue hatred towards me. He had just wronged me and dishonoured me. Such an insult was typically unforgivable unless a formal apology was made. Thus is my personal code of honour. And so, I sat the rest of the night in puzzlement over this Harry Potter.
* * *
Why a match was being held so early in the morning, I'll never know. I wasn't entirely awake, needless to say, and was filled with angst towards the world in general. If it folded in on itself, so be it, so long as I could have a bit more sleep and I could live my life with my love in peace. Neither would happen, though.
As I took the field with my team mates, I could smell the early dew of morning crystalizing in the cold of winter. It was actually rather pleasant, and served to wake me up a trifle. It had been a few weeks since the incident in Slyterin House with Potter. Since that time, he had wronged me in ways far worse.
He insulted Deanne by claiming that I had her under the imperious curse. Knowing that I did not have the authority to take away points from Gryffindor House, he made the day of the full moon most hellish on me, for I had to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts that day. I had not known him to be capable of such beligerance. It gets better, though.
He all but told the other schools that I was a demon. My reputation, formerly ambiguous, became quite tarnished. After all, Harry Potter was famous and liked, and people tended to believe him over myself. The amount of nasty rumours running through the school about me at that period of my stay at Hogwarts could not be counted easily with an abbacus.
There were other instances, too, but I do not feel as though they need to be mentioned. The point has been made. At any rate, that day's match was against Gryffindor House, and I intended to show them no mercy.
When the match began, I was ready for action. Not a single bludger touched my team mates, and I managed to distract the Weasleys enough with my aim to put the Quaffle in Slytherin hands for the majority of the game. We dominated them, and it was glorious when our Seeker caught the snitch and ended the game in victory for us.
There was a problem, though. The bludgers were still moving, and one was heading right at me. I went to beat it in a random direction, but I have a bad habit of checking my mark, and there he was. Harry Potter. I felt the urge to swing, to drive that thing right at him. It was either him or me. Why shouldn't it be him?
For the record, taking a bludger to the ribs is not a good idea, under any circumstances. I attempted to breathe, but found that I couldn't. My lowest ribs had punctured my lungs. That in itself was painful, but not being able to absorb oxygen was a bit more problematic. I spun to the ground, faster and faster, all the while thinking that, if he'd seen what I just did, then he'd at least be confused. That was good enough for me.
* * *
The hospital wing was all too familiar to me, now, and Deanne was there. I found myself on some sort of life support. I hadn't noticed, but apparently, while two ribs went in and punctured my lungs, two others went out and tore through my skin. That must not have been a pretty sight. At the moment, the surface wounds were still there, but the ribs had been replaced, and a generous amount of gauze now covered the area of the wound.
"This is the second time I've seen you close to death. You're starting to acquire bad habits," I heard my love quote. It was not her original words, but they fit too well.
I chuckled, which hurt a bit. In as loud of a voice as I could muster, I responded. "I did something rather selfless... again. I suppose I should stop that, eh?"
She nuzzled me, affectionately. "You have a visitor, love. I'll leave him with you..."
She seemed to pause for a moment, but left as she said she would. I sat up, though the process was beyond painful, and turned my head to meet the face of Harry Potter. I snorted. "I believe you're missing the salt," my voice was but a whisper, for I could muster no else, and I had to draw breaths in between two to three word phrases.
He crossed to the foot of my bed, still on the right side. "Why did you do that? I would have taken at worst a broken arm. Instead, you let the bludger almost kill you. Why?"
I met his eyes with my own. "Misunderstandings are common and unfortunate, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately, you and I are both victims of a gross misunderstanding... one which all parties cannot be made aware of, else all that I have worked for toward that end will be lost."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Hermione... and Cordelia."
He tilted his head, slightly. Hermione was the reason that he had been so vicious to me of late. "Go on..."
"Have you not noticed how they have become? They are as friends. In their mutual hatred of me, they have brought two once bitterly rivalled houses to at least a level of understanding."
"Yes, I've noticed this."
"And all because I set it up to be that way."
He blinked. "What?!"
I nodded, sharply. "It was my intention to set up the dates so that they overlapped... and for them to become upset with me. Their anger made them friends as opposed to enemies... and positive ended up outweighing negative."
"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" he asked as he regarded me, suspiciously.
I glared. "I'm not taking a cruciatus curse to prove it to you, Potter. If this wasn't good enough, then I suppose we can never have understanding."
My words were bitter, but Harry seemed to realize that the truth was being spoken on my part. "I find myself with a great deal to apologize for..."
I gave a small wave of my hand. "Don't bother with it, Potter. We all make mistakes."
And with that, I passed out. Blissful unconciousness allowed me to heal more quickly, and the first challenge was only in a few more days. I had no clue what it would be, and had done little to prepare myself for it. Things, in general, were just not going my way at all.
It was time to inform Cordelia of the truth, as well. She would be able to continue the charade that she originally thought was truth.