Not Dead Yet

1992 February

Not even the first rays of sunlight disturbed the dust motes that floated in the library's thick, musty air. Shelves lined the stone walls, stacked high with ageing tomes and whispers of preserved wisdom. Flick. The sound of a page turning was unbearably loud in the absence of all noise. Eyes of autumn gold flickered thoughtfully over the face of the immersed witch. Her bushy brown hair had been restrained at the nape of her neck, and large buck teeth peered out from nervously bitten lips. The witch's eyes, usually a deep brown, were deep-set in a tired face and slightly red. Alana's conscience stirred like a sleeping dragon in the recesses of her mind.

Who had made her Hermione cry?

There were multiple possible answers to such a question. Hermione was hardly beloved by many students. Her personality was too quiet, masked by insecurities to the point that many perceived the girl as an arrogant know-it-all. She was not easy company to enjoy; it was true. Flick. The page turned again, and Alana considered the reading material beside the girl with the thought it might provide more information. 'Genealogia Britannia: The Ancestors of Great Britain'.

Alana hummed thoughtfully causing Hermione's head to shoot up from her text. Her pupils were blown wide, the panic on her features lasting longer than necessary for her to recognise her observer. Alana chose to ignore the reaction and instead strode down the aisle of books, noting with no small annoyance that some of the texts looked to be in bad condition despite the application of preservation charms.

"Goodmorning, Alana," Hermione finally mumbled, not wanting to seem rude.

"Is it?" The teen replied mockingly still facing the shelf of tomes. "What new project has drawn you to the library so early, Hermione?" Her fingers trailed across knobbly spines reverently.

"Nothing in particular," Hermione lied through her teeth, "I'm just looking up something someone told me about yesterday." There was bitterness in the words that she couldn't contain.

"I see." Alana picked her way down the aisle before heading down another, picking up several books on her way. She returned to the young witch and set them down with an unintentionally dramatic thump. Hermione jumped in surprise, once again having not noticed her presence.

"What's this?" She asked, almost worried at the impassive face of the older girl. The top novel she could see was titled 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. "This is a fairy tale book," She muttered with a frown of contempt. She had grown out of such fantasies years ago. Reality was far more unforgiving than any novel.

"You're looking into pureblood culture, aren't you?" Alana asked and received a reluctant nod. The younger girl began to nibble her bottom lip nervously. "If you want to understand the core beliefs of any culture, the values they hold dear, their greatest hopes and their darkest fears, you must begin by looking at them with the eyes of a child. Myths and legends, stories, will always be the greatest method with which parents teach their young. Start with these," She indicated the top three books including a book titled 'Tales of the Tuatha De Danann'. "Then read these," She separated the bottom two books. One covered the obligations of nobility, and the other, religious sects. "Once you can connect them, I'll get you some more." Alana knew the witch was clever; she would understand eventually. Knowledge was only useful when one had the wisdom to use it well.

Hermione grappled with her instructions, her facial expression openly debating the wisdom of Alana's words. "Alright," She clenched her jaw firmly. "I suppose its as good a place as any to start."

1992 February

Richard Farrell seemed to be coming around to the idea of magic more as the days passed by.

"And you can levitate objects with just a phrase?" The muggle inquired with curiosity not even death could dampen.

"We can levitate objects without a phrase if we're talented enough," Alana smiled.

"What about water?"

"Levitation spells work with solid masses only. Liquids require a separate spell. I'm not sure if jelly would count a solid or liquid, or whether colloid gels have their own spells. It's food for thought, though, isn't it?"

"I don't know what colloid gels are, but I think I get your point," Farrell mused.

The two continued their morning stroll down the corridors until they reached the deserted astronomy tower. Looking down from the large tower, Alana could vaguely makeout Professor McGonagall's moving form through her office window. You could identify a great many rooms from the tower, most used for classes. Interestingly, the window to the headmaster's office was visible but probably spelled to be one-way as nothing could be discerned from its surface.

Following her intent gaze, Farrell tilted his head in thought. "The headmaster talks a lot with the ghosts," He commented lightly. "Almost more than you do. I wondered at first if he was just lonely, but he often asks such specific questions that I am almost tempted to practice silence as the Grey Lady and Bloody Baron do."

Alana paused at that, frowning, first at the thought of her ghost companion being made to feel uncomfortable and then at the headmaster's behaviour. Although it was not surprising that he should use ghosts to monitor the castle, it was still disconcerting.

"He asked about you as well," Farrell continued through her silence, deaf as he was to her thoughts. "He worries for that boy you've taken under your wing - he blond one. The green-eyed one as well I should think. He always asks."

Alana gripped the astronomy balcony. "He has no need to trouble himself." Her tone was icy calm.

"I know. I thought only to let you know. The headmaster may be good at talking, but you are a much better conversationist. I should hate to lose someone who understands it takes two to form a duet."

1992 March

Ding!

Notification: Level up!

Library System: Aquarius is now level 40 and capable of storing 35 objects. Summoning cost decrease tripled. Max level reached! Would you like to evolve Aquarius?

YES or NO

Ding!

Notification: Evolution!

Inventory System: Aquarius IV has evolved to Aquarius V! level 0 capable of storing up to 35 objects. Summoning cost decrease tripled.

Ding!

Notification: New Skill: New Skill: Battery (Passive)

System can now store and release energy.

The path to the stone was in no way easy. She chose to make her attempt in the dead of night, a few weeks before the Easter break. Her preparation, however, had begun long before then. The witch had meticulously surveyed the hall before slipping a tracking potion into Professor Quirrel's afternoon tea. An after-class conversation on oblivion moss conservation proved to be the perfect opportunity. It was a pity to have to use him as a scapegoat, but it was the most convenient option - granted he never discovered her involvement. Her equipment compartment was unlocked and catalogued with intense scrutiny. Then she waited.

The hall was deserted and pitch-black at the hour she arrived on the third floor. Not a soul nor painting had stirred as she moved through the castle. Even Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris, were simple enough to fool when you knew how. Some silencing runes, scent masks, and the consumption of the three potions she had commissioned from Charon did the trick. Those potions had cost her favours that she'd yet to repay which left her rather twitchy, but she couldn't regret the results. A night vision potion was the least of the three, the other two causing more trouble as she'd chosen to collect the ingredients herself rather than pay Charon's hefty fee. He'd finished them at Yule.

The first and second potion she'd taken before leaving as both caused her eyes to burn feverishly, the one for night vision for a few minutes and the one for magus sight for a good hour as she contorted with pain. Magic could be observed in a number of ways, extending your magical aura being the most common but not the most convenient method as it was impossible to cast magic simultaneously. Magus sight potions temporarily allowed the eyes to see magic by drawing magic straight from the core. It was a dangerous enough potion that it was restricted to Masters of magic, wand-users with master qualifications in one or more branches of magic. Charon had made a few adjustments to the standard potion and had reduced his price some on account of her being a guinea pig for him.

The third floor appeared normal at first glance. However, on closer inspection, it was a literal minefield of protections against intruders. Wand magic sensors, pressure-s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e alarms, motion detectors and similar charms coated the area in a patchwork of arrays. No one would get in or out without the ward-holder knowing. She had no doubt the headmaster was responsible for the setup. Had he wanted to test his pawn, Harry Potter, so much as to willfully ignore the alarms that would in no uncertain means identify the magical signature of a trespasser. Then again, perhaps, Quirrel-mort had somehow already disabled the alarms before entering. She wasn't sure, but it was always wise to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

She whisked a flask out and downed a mouthful of the potion with a grimace. Charon had been right to warn her about the taste. The green viscous liquid was nauseating. Her magic constricted in response to the first potion before crawling back into her skin. It left her unpleasantly exposed to the magic around her but would prevent her from accidentally setting something off or leaving her magical signature behind. She had an hour worth of the potion in the flask. More than enough to complete her task, or so she hoped. Her feet moved, navigating the perilous area quickly but cautiously. She had religiously studied and mapped out the halls patterns - and there were patterns, all magic was rooted in patterns and geometric formations that overlapped and interlinked.

Certain spells could not be placed beside each other and the more powerful a charm, curse or rune, the more space required for it to function without disturbance. All spells degraded over time, that time being dependent on the strength and skill of the caster as well as the spell's innate properties. Arrays strengthened spells and gave them the structure to maintain that strength for longer periods of time. This was particularly important within the castle which was imbued with magic that ran through its every stone and fixture to connect it to the land. Spells cast on its structure would begin to erode as soon as they made contact unless cast in arrays and given regular maintenance.

Alana had first marked the arrangements on paper with star chart precision. They were then copied onto her bedroom floor in chalk to practice the necessary motions to pass them. Dismantling them was beyond her skill in the given time frame and was guaranteed to attract attention, so the path of less resistance was taken. This would be the easiest part of her robbery. She twisted slightly, bending backwards to avoid a sensor. Much like a laser tripwire alarm, some of the spell formations would react to any object placed between them and their counterpart. Without Pisces, Alana was forced to rely on her own skill and precision to complete the task. Hermes was on her side, however, and she made it to her heavily warded objective.

The door was a heavy oak construct with no identifiable markings. Alana examined the lock on the door with a grimace. It was old enough that she knew picking it would be an easy feat. The potent alarm array fixed into its surface linked to the lock and would be triggered if opened with the use of magic. She brought forth a set of silver-coated lockpicks, her first commission from Shephaestus and not her last. Such a powerful array meant there couldn't be any charms against picks on the keyhole. She found it amusing that the wizard had opted for protection against magic before mundane methods. It was a basic warded lock, consisting of concentric plates protruding outwards which blocked the rotation of keys not designed for it. It took her barely five minutes to figure out the correct key combination.

She didn't dare breathe as she slipped through the doorway. Dipping her leather-clad fingers into her pocket, she found a small magical music box she had brought over Yule. The room was small, almost unbearably so considering the slumbering beast it housed. Her boots were silent, but the hairs on the back her neck still pricked upwards in apprehension. Surely, she was breathing too loudly. The canine stirred, a single head rising from the stone floor like a black serpent. Its fur was oily black over hard muscles and throbbing veins. It smelt of sweat and death. Its large eyes turned slowly in her direction. They were liquid darkness, immortal and impassive, gaping gateways to Erebus that consumed the meagre light in the room. It did not blink as two more head rose to join it. The cerberus, the hound of hades, growled lowly. The world darkened.

Alana took a step back, and the beast pounced. Its large maw widened sickeningly with strings of saliva hanging from its large teeth and the bits of flesh between them. Alana threw her body sideways, narrowly avoiding injury as her music box began its lullaby. The three-headed dog snarled as its heads twisted to follow the girl. Its claws gouged deep marks into the stone as its body contorted to follow suit. She didn't wait for the music to settle it, already halfway to the trap door it had been resting on. It was unwarded, and she ducked, sparing a glance to the cerberus which stood rooted to the ground, body swaying as its heads dipped to the floor. Then, down the rabbit hole, she went.

The young witch landed in a swamp of black vines. They were grotesque things, coasted in a layer of sludge-like perspiration. They shivered upon her contact, crawling over her body and tightening their long, wet limbs over her available limbs. A few wriggled their way into her hood, writhing through her hair like Medusa's snakes and curling contently at the exposed skin at the base of her neck. She shivered as it happened, letting the plant pull and push her body as it pleased. Devil's Snare was s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to heat and light, and while she had a few applicable objects in her pocket, she felt compelled to conserve her energy for the next obstacles. She dove into her mind, reaching for that stillness within her Mindscape that would allow her to relax. The vines loosened a fraction. Then, some more until her gravity dragged her under with a sharp tug.

The third room was far less dazzling than the previous and quiet reprieve for Alana. It was found down a sloping tunnel of stone that opened into a high, well-lit chamber. The air a metre above her head was a sea of glittering winged keys, one of which, she deduced would oven the silver lock on the only exit. A broom floated innocently in the centre of the room. Alana ignored all of this and went to examine the lock. The entire door screamed of Professor Flitwick's involvement. The lock was silver charmed to allow only a key with an identical magical signature in. The work was wonderfully done. It was a pity for her head of house that Alana had prepared for such an instance. She would not have gone to Shephaestus for any ordinary set of lockpicks. Indeed, the silver coating on hers was done with such charms in mind. Silver was magically conductive after all so any magical signature would pass the through the material like electricity through copper wire. She was rather proud of the ingenuity on her part.

The fourth, fifth and sixth chambers were not even worth mentioning, unresponsive as they were with Charon's lovely potion. Wand-users were as good as ghosts to tracking spells without their magical aura. It was a fact she was more than willing to exploit just as many before her had. Evidently, the staff responsible for the protective rooms had not humoured the possibility of a being without a magical aura - say, a vampire - attempting to get past. Of course, a vampire might have had trouble weaving their way blindly through the alarm arrays scattered around. It was fortunate she could see them as without her magical aura, she would have been blind.

The seventh chamber was the last, and the significance of the number seven was not lost on her. The stone room was spacious and rectangular with lit braziers dispersed along the walls. The central feature was a large, ornate mirror. It had clawed feet and a gold frame with the phrase "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi "engraved above its reflective surface. I show not your face, but your hearts d.e.s.i.r.e. Alana's eyes lit up, but she was not without caution. She inspected the room carefully as only she could, avoiding multiple arrays to close in on the mirror. Once she was close enough to brush the mirror, she allowed the last dose of magic restricting potion to wear off. The mirror was ancient and powerful. Therefore, it was the safest place to be as no external charms were placed in its immediate vicinity for fear they would erode.

Her reflection stared back at her, untouched before her spreading magic touched its surface. She cleared her mind, able to see but not feel the mirrors magic reaching out to her. It was discomforting to know magic could so easily touch her without her knowing. She had a long way to go. She imagined the sorting hat had similar magic, allowing into to delve into the human mind, but the thought was cut short as her reflection moved.

Supposedly, the stone could only be taken by someone who didn't want to use it. Assuming Dumbledore was telling the truth and considering that she intended to destroy it, she ought to qualify. Her reflection looked rather ordinary. She was alive and well, a bit chubby but otherwise looking like her normal self. It was perfectly normal in her opinion. Until it wasn't. Suddenly she was staring at her corpse as it was burned at the stake. Alana recoiled, barely stopping herself from moving outside of the mirror's protection. The fire looked too real, and she could almost feel the heat stroking her skin feverish. Not wanting to contemplate whatever possible deeper meaning the image had, she opened her fingers. Gleaming in the mirrors flames, the philosopher's stone looked as innocent as a pomegranate born of the underworld.

...

Elsewhere in the forbidden forest, Aquarius lurked in the underbrush. The magic of its creator burned like a flame in the summons, steady despite the disconnection of its maker's magic. The Alvarian ward stone in its inventory burned hot as its stored magic was fed to the summons much like a batter. Its blue form was tinted a dark red with its contents as it rolled itself over a moss-covered trunk and onto the lowest hanging branch of a tree. It bounced lightly with enthusiasm before settling in to wait. The potion within it burned as the one linked to it neared.

A rustle and a thump, the sound of a heavy cloak dragging through the undergrowth. Still, Aquarius waited. It emerged from the forest, a creature of rotting flesh and mutated bone. It's sinister claws scr.a.p.ed along the tree below, gouging deep holes into the trunk with its uncontrolled magic. The summoning quivered as that magic reached out to it, leaving cold burns along the surface of its corporeal body. It stilled suddenly before throwing itself off the branch. It sailed through the air, not unlike a water balloon as liquid shot out from its surface with the force of a geyser headed towards the cloaked target. A cold Avada kedavra hit the summons as it darted away but the curse merely dissipated as it hit the being of thought. Aquarius fled into the night back to its mistress, back to its creator.

The shade in the clearing hissed, jerking its wand in the movement of a drying spell. The liquid sizzled under the wave of magic and began to smoke. The wand-holding creature spasmed and twisted, its bones snapping as the liquid gorged itself on its flesh. An unholy sound tore itself from its burning throat, piercing the night air and sending nearby animals running in instinctive fear. All the while, the liquid continued to burn like acid worms winding their way into their hosts every orifice. The squelching of decomposing intestines echoed in the clearing as the liquid fed upon the fountain of magic that was the broken wizard. The man, the thing, the creature tried in vain to retract its magic back into its rotting shell, but the shadow-like expansions of will refused to be tamed so quickly after so many days of tight control. It was futile, so the wizard-creature ran. Its gait was that of a crazed beast, hurtling through the forbidden forest in search of water its magic was no longer stable enough to conjure. It searched, and it burned. Nothing was left of him when the sun rose.

1992 April

"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione grouched. The group of Gryffindors and older years had claimed an unused section of the library hours ago, and Hermione and Alana had yet to stop debating basic magical theory.

"What part isn't making sense? You have a physical aura, and you have a magical aura. Your physical aura is a reflection of your mind while your magical aura is a reflection of your magical core."

"They're the same thing!" Hermione exclaimed, biting her tongue when she realised the were supposed to be quiet.

"Magical creatures don't have to have a magical core to be magical, do they? What about vampires and werewolves? They have physical auras that reflect the nature of their being without a core. Merlin, haven't you ever wondered why being around Professor Sinistra makes you so calm in astronomy? It's her physical aura because I can tell you now that woman is definitely not predisposed to light or neutral magic."

"Professor Sinistra isn't a dark witch!"

"She's definitely dark, but that doesn't make her evil. The Longbottom family is supposedly predisposed to dark cores as well. I don't know about Neville, but I've yet to see any other member of their line wanting to commit mass genocide. Just because most of the wizards you know with dark cores tend to be idiots doesn't mean they all are. Correlation doesn't equal causality, Hermione."

"So people are just stuck with whatever gene-determined magical core they are born with?!"

Alana frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. Nature and nurture both play a role. We're not independent of our surrounding, but neither are we solely dependent on them. Our core and our psyche have the same relationship. If they didn't, it would not be so easy to confuse magical and physical auras. But, Hermione, it is important to learn to tell the difference," Her tone was serious now, infinitely so, and it caused the others in the group who had blocked out the conversation to tune in again. "Both of those auras are essential to how we perceive the people and the world around us. You wouldn't let yourself walk around half-blind, would you? The most dangerous magical creatures aren't the ones who can suck your blood or turn you to ash, they're the ones who can make you think that you're safe, who can lure you into their arms willingly, who can twist your mind until all you are is theirs to control. Someone who can kill is a threat, but someone who can kill and lie about it the next day is infinitely worse. Wand-users, witches and wizards, have always fallen into the second category. Really, you only need to look at our history to realise the corpses we've covered to get to where we are today. Given that history, it isn't so surprising that so many creatures resent our kind."

It was silent by the time my monologue ended - silent to the point where you could have heard a pin drop. Leoen somewhat disconcerted while Ron looked appalled. Harry was wide-eyed and really, that should have been sign enough that she'd said too much.

"Sorry," Alana apologised, and the word felt sterile on her tongue. "I suppose that was a bit heavy for first years. I just don't want to see you getting hurt." She coughed self-consciously. "The world of magic is great and all, but it has just as much danger and forgetting that is unwise."

"Right," Hermione was biting her tongue as her eyes looked to anywhere that wasn't her eyes.

Alana sighed.

"Professor Quirrel's disappeared!" Charlotte bellowed as she rushed into the library. Madam Pince could be heard chastising the witch before she appeared with a folder clutched under an arm. "I heard Professor McGonagall talking to Professor Sprout. Apparently, he's stolen something from the school. I've never heard her so worried. I'm half expecting manhunt at this point," Charlotte struggled to look concerned and not excited at the prospect. She failed.

"What do you mean he stole something?" Harry jumped up to question. His face equal parts suspicious and concerned as Charlotte explained she had no idea.

"I don't suppose Professor Quirrel is one of those wizards you were warning us about?" Hermione commented with a strained smile, obviously unsettled but trying to regain her balance. It was a noble effort.

1992 April

Creation: Capricorn V

Species: Library System

Level: 33

Capable of mind defence, complex thought and processing 19,300 words per hour. New Skill: Legilimency (Active)

Creation: Aquarius V

Species: Inventory System

Level: 0

Capable of storing 35 objects. Summoning cost decrease tripled. New Skill: New Skill: Battery (Passive)

Creation: Pisces IV

Species: Healing System

Level: 9

Magic focus increased x2 Dexterity increased x2 Precision increased x2 Cost of summoning decreased.

"Why won't this bloody stone break!" Alana screamed profanities. Later, she would be thankful that Marius wasn't home to observe the scene. The witch was clad in pyjama's and standing on the settee with a wand brandished at the blasted, stupid, mocking philosopher's stone. Her curse hurtled towards the stone at record-breaking speeds but did nothing upon impact. She flopped down, wincing at the lack of cushioning. Aquarius burped after another unsuccessful attempt at dissolving the stone. It gurgled sympathetically at its creator.

"Battery, huh? I've been such a negligent creator, haven't I, Aquarius?" Alana allowed the slime to slide its way onto her c.h.e.s.t and the summons began to purr contentedly. "Maybe I can get you to store electricity or moonlight," She mused, thinking of moonstones and time-s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e potions. Light and sound energy would be entertaining to explore. Flash bomb Aquarius was oddly appealing. She grinned. Her little slime was so talented. Aquarius had proven able to store magical energy but was unable to transfer it directly into another object. The slime could absorb it directly or have it radiate out into the environment. Magical storage had always been a problem for wizards. They released it so easily but couldn't absorb it as other magical creatures did. Magic required intent to enter a wizard, and once magic entered Aquarius, it lost that intent.