08-Feb-2003
Parallel
A Harry Potter/Gundam Wing fanfic by Stormy
Rating: R
Pairings: 1x2, 3x4
Summary: Heero Yuy and Harry Potter. Transcending time and space, the mystery of what became of Harry Potter is about to unfold.
Warnings: Shonen ai (1x2), possible SBxRL (Should I or shouldn't I? ^^)
Spoilers: TPS, CoS, PoA, GoF, (HP), Endless Waltz (GW)
Additional Notes: Nag, nag, NAG! ^__^ This chapter is dedicated to Teedee, ChibiAnge, Ms Talon and of course, Luna-chan, for their persistence in getting me to write this. Anyone else want to have a similar effect? Then drop by my website's main page and play 'tag' with us – after you review here, of course. *winks*
The old castle had stood there on the hillside for centuries, alone and crumbling. Very little remained of the once-imposing structure, save for a skeletal framework of brick and forged steel. The wood had long since rotted away.
It was set deep into the hillside, far away from any neighbouring towns or cities. A few farmers dotted the landscape before it, but it was common knowledge to the people that you just pretended the castle wasn't there. Legends spoke of a horrible ghost that lived there, waiting for unsuspecting visitors to arrive to scare their hair white, or even kill them, giving the ghost someone to haunt eternity with. Better to ignore the weathered rocks and ancient spires that looked like ghastly steel fingers brushing the sky's edge.
In reality, the castle a leftover remnant of the olden days. Perhaps the British government would have taken more interest in it had they known it had once been a part of the Kingdom of Camelot – another old legend, but far better known. It was ironic that such a place, that once belonged to advocators of peace, when it was now used for the darkest evils.
Old and frail the castle might now have been, but it still contained many secrets. The last of which was alternate passageways into the remains, leading underneath the castle, and into secret rooms dug into the actual hill itself. Such rooms were once war rooms, rooms that housed knowledge and power. And so they did again.
Lucius Malfoy hated coming here. He was a Malfoy – accustomed to only the finest accommodations. Creeping among ruins was supposed to be reserved for lesser subordinates. But, he surmised, since that idiot rat Pettigrew had gotten himself captured, that only leaves myself as Voldemort's right hand. His Lord would trust no other, of course.
He stooped low to avoid an archway that had collapsed some time ago, and pulled out his wand as he stood before a large boulder. Waving it, he whispered the charm that levitated the boulder to the side, revealing a dark passageway.
"Incendium!" A flame burst out of the makeshift torch he carried, illuminating the passageway. Lucious barely managed to stifle a growl of indignation as a small swarm of cockroaches and other large insects scurried away into the darkness.
No, he was not pleased at all.
Thankfully, the walk down the dank corridor was a short one, and he soon emerged from the tunnel into what used to be an old safe room, hidden far deeper into the hill then any of the other rooms. Other torches, similar to his own, encircled the room, already burning brightly. A small, old-fashioned and extremely rusted vent let the smoke escape.
Despite the age of the old castle dungeons, there were rather a lot of modern conveniences. Books on the newer looking table. A bottle of ink with a quill. An armchair in the corner.
A glowing crystal ball on a black-crystal perch, directly in front of him.
The instant Lucious Malfoy's eyes lit on the orb, he could feel a wave of dark energy rush over him like a tidal wave. The crystal flashed darkly, recognizing the intruder, and the energy within it swelled and frothed like a storm-tossed ocean.
Lucious bit his lip. Well, he was there, wasn't he? It was more then could be said for the others who had supposedly sworn their allegiance. Notice no one else had crawled through disgusting and dirty little passageways.
"I have come," he murmured softly, as he knew he had to. Another dark flash followed his words. "I have come as you have bidden, my Lord."
Outside, the sky darkened. Clouds swirled in from nowhere; lightning crashed down on the land below. Cows in the lush English countryside stomped their hooves, and horses whinnied in fear at the unnatural swiftness of the coming storm.
And below the ancient castle, deep in the abandoned catacombs, two glowing red orbs appeared on the surface of the crystal, and a harsh sound of laughter echoed throughout the hillside.
Hermione was positive she'd heard wrong.
"A squib?" She cocked her head to one side, staring at the Transfigurations professor. "Isn't that kind of... odd?"
Wufei glanced at Trowa. "I don't feel reassured," he said dryly. Trowa snorted and nuzzled the top of Quatre's head, uncaring. The blonde tightened his own grip on Trowa's fingers.
"What's a squib?" Duo wanted to know. He glanced at Heero who had a look that matched Hermione's on his face. And Ron... Ron seemed to be looking somewhat sympathetic. "Is that bad?"
"Not at all, Mr Maxwell," McGonagall said briskly. She scooped up the practice wand and put it away in her pocket. "It's just a little rare." She smiled at them. "Rare, and extremely fascinating, to tell you the truth."
"What's so fascinating about squibs?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. The only image he could put to mind about squibs was Argus Filch and he certainly wasn't someone to envy.
"And just what do you know about squibs?" McGonagall countered swiftly, crossing her arms and staring down her nose at Ron who immediately began to squirm. True to form, Hermione raised her arm. "Miss Granger?"
"They're non-magical people born to a wizarding family," she answered promptly. Minerva smiled.
"A textbook response Miss Granger – and only partially right." The Transfigurations teacher pulled out her chair and sat down, folding her hands on the desktop. Hermione and Ron settled back instinctively, and Harry tugged Duo over to one of the desks. Even Sirius recognized McGonagall's 'game face' and sat down properly in his chair. "The truth is, Squibs do possess some magical ability. And squibs are far more rare then one would ever imagine."
"So Neville's NOT a squib?" Heero remarked idly. Ron snickered. Duo blinked.
"Who's Neville?"
"No, Mr Yuy – Mr Longbottom is not a squib." McGonagall frowned at him. "There is only one squib at Hogwarts, and that is our caretaker, Mr Filch. He has been the only squib to enter these halls in a great many years."
"That's not surprising," Ron said slowly. "I mean, I thought squibs didn't come to Hogwarts because they couldn't do magic?"
McGonagall laughed. "Certainly not, Mr Weasely. How else would Mr Filch get his education?"
"Filch went to Hogwarts?" Hermione blurted out. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth as she registered the disbelieving tone of her own words. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Minerva glanced at her.
"Indeed he did, Miss Granger."
"Can someone please explain what a squib is – in a little more detail?" Quatre asked with interest. "If Trowa and Wufei posses magical ability, what prevents them from being wizards?"
"An excellent question, Mr Winner." The professor smiled. "And to answer it, I shall have to give you some background information that might seem like common knowledge from Mr's Potter and Weasely, and Miss Granger." She steepled her fingers. "Magic is all around us to begin with. It's in everything – including us. Witches and wizards are able to tap into the existing magic, and the skill and amount that you are able to, as well as how much of a wellspring you have within yourself to draw from, decides how powerful a witch or wizard will be. Mr Yuy," she nodded her head at Heero. "–has an unusually large wellspring, for lack of a better term, to draw from. Part of this is due to the power he inherited from his parents, who were immensely powerful in their own right. And part of it is due to the conflict he had with Lord Voldemort as a baby, during the age when a child's magic is the most pure, the most uncorrupted."
Duo snorted. "That's my Perfect Soldier," he grinned. Heero punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!"
"Squibs, on the other hand, are unable to tap into that wellspring. Like everything else, the magic exists both around and inside them, but they lack the ability to access it." McGonagall looked at all of them, meeting their eyes squarely. "But magic cannot be ignored. A wizard who tries to live as a muggle will still feel the magical energies inside them, and would be forever battling the urge to use it the way they know they can. And for a squib, this means the magic finds its own ways of breaking past the barrier."
"How?" Hermione asked, fascinated.
"It's difficult to say," McGonagall sighed with annoyance. "There are so few squibs in reality, that it's never been properly documented. It ranges from enhanced talents to abilities that seem like magical powers." She smiled. "Take Mr Filch for example. He has an uncanny knack for telling when spirits are about."
"Talking to ghosts?" Ron snorted. "Everyone here can talk to ghosts. Sir Nick gets a kick out of having conversations with the first years with his head hanging to the side."
"Ah, but I said spirits, Mr Weasely. No one is really sure why some people become ghosts. Not every individual who dies becomes one. Most become spirits, off to whatever afterlife exists for them. But spirits can be found everywhere – and Mr Filch can talk to them."
"True spirits are invisible, aren't they?" Hermione said suddenly.
"Which explains why sometimes you can find Mr Filch talking to himself even when Miss Norris is gone," Heero surmised. McGonagall smiled.
"Two points to Gryffindor."
"So let me get this straight," Duo broke in. "Tro and 'Fei have magic like me and Quat – but instead of a wand, they have other ways of showing it?"
"Precisely, Mr Maxwell." McGonagall nodded firmly. "What forms and directions your talents will take remains to be seen – I'm sure discovering them will be just as interesting as regular classes for you and Mr Winner will be."
"But how can they go to class?" Ron asked again. "They can't do Charms without a wand! And what about Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"I seem to recall saying that squibs do get an education, the same as any other witch or wizard," McGonagall said sternly.
"Potions, for example. There was a Potions Master in the late seventeen hundred's who was a squib. Not to mention Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies and of course, Divination." McGonagall's lip twitched. "It does not take a wand to read the cards of the future... ."
"Or the tea sludge," Ron muttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Squibs can also take Defence Against the Dark Arts, in a limited fashion," the professor continued. "Squibs have to learn which creatures are dark, and how best to defend themselves from them, as well as the magical artefacts and items that could protect themselves from harm. Practical demonstrations such as casting a Patronus wouldn't be feasible the normal route, but it would be interesting to see how a squib's powers react when faced against a dark creature."
"Why are some people born squibs, especially if the power is present in both the parents?" Wufei asked quietly, trying to absorb all that he was hearing.
The professor nodded at him. "Another excellent question, Mr Chang." She sounded pleased. "As I said, squibs are actually fairly rare, and are most common in cases where the mother is a muggle, or when both the mother and the father have a very shallow wellspring of power."
"It makes sense," Quatre said slowly. "If I understand that theory right, it has to do with the bond a mother has with her child. The father may be a powerful wizard, but the child is nurtured for nine months with the energy and life force of a muggle. For what is a birth but the creation of a new life force; a new life force that requires similar energy and magic? And if both the parents have little magical power, that deficiency is handed down to the child during the pregnancy."
"Genetic dilution," Wufei agreed. "If both parents were half muggle, the odds of a muggle child or squib are greater then the odds of that happening to a powerful magical couple. Or, in the case of the muggle mother, the child takes after one of the parents more then the other, primarily the mother due to that long bonding process Quatre mentioned."
"J and G would have a field day with this – can you imagine them trying to create the Perfect Wizard?" Duo mused. Heero glared at him.
"Is there a test like the one we just took, to help us discover what our talents are?" Trowa asked. McGonagall shook her head.
"You'll just have to discover that for yourself, Mr. Barton." She smiled. "I think you'll know what your talent is when you're ready,"
"Hello Molly." Dumbledore's head appeared in the Weasely fireplace. Molly Weasely shrieked with surprise, flinging her spatula at the fire. Dumbledore blinked as the implement settled into the ashes. "Excellent aim, my dear!"
"Dumbledore!" Molly gasped, clutching her heart. "I wasn't expecting anyone – I turned the fire-buzz off!"
"I see," the headmaster chuckled. "I'm sorry for startling you. Have I reached you at a bad time?"
"Of course not sir," Molly said, regaining her composure with remarkable swiftness. Then again, raising a pair of twins that blew the lid off your very last nerve on a daily basis was sure to give one excellent shock-recuperative skills. "How can I help you?"
"I know you've been kept up to date with regards to the re-appearance of Harry – Ron did owl you, did he not?"
"No, but Remus Lupin did." Molly smiled at the floating head. "Remus called me the night you all got back from the future world, and told me what had happened. Thank goodness Harry's all right!"
"How heartily I echo your sentiments, my dear," Dumbledore chuckled. "We were very lucky."
"How is he, headmaster?"
"He looks a bit different from the Harry we remember, and of course, he now has a whole separate lifetime full of memories to keep track of, but all in all, he's doing just fine." One blue eye twinkled. "His friends are busy discovering their magical possibilities."
"Oh, that should be interesting."
"Indeed. Still, Molly, I do have an alternative reason for fire-calling you."
Molly tilted her head to one side. "Sir?"
"I wonder if you might find room in your heart – and your home – to take in a few extra people for the remainder of the holidays... ."
End Chapter 17
A few lines shorter then the previous chapters, but the next one kinda splits off in a new direction and I didn't want to drag this out.
*grins* Look guys – I made it with an hour and a half to spare!
Review please?
Stormy
Please send comments to: dingostorm@hotmail.com