Bear's Beauties: Existential Crisis 33 (Patreon)

[Center]<<Bear Sandosen>>[/center]

It should have been weird, seeing Harley wearing a white, button up shirt with her hair in a bun instead of pigtails and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. Should have been.  But we’d been having these therapy sessions at least once a week since shortly after we’d met and Doctor Quinzel mode was as professional as Harley mode was playful. The office she’d secured on the Yamato for professional mode was pretty much as stereotypical as you could get: wood panel walls, a desk, bookshelves, a couch, copies of her diplomas on the wall, even some potted plants in the corner.

“So I have to ask,” she began, an amused gleam in her eye, “but Randy Travis?”

I chuckled, not bothering to ask how she’d heard about it. The only thing faster than the speed of light was the speed of gossip. “I’m not really a country fan myself, but my mom is.”

“Is?” she asked, picking up the tangled mix of emotions tied up in the subject of my mother.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “She’s still alive, but in a care facility for people with dementia. One of the things that I remember Tara Q whispering to me was promising to restore her mind and reunite us after we beat the Anti-Monitor.

“That song in particular came out when I was… seventeen, I think? Mom would watch all the award shows, TV specials, the CMAs, Bob Hope seasonal shows,” I trailed off as the memories danced through my mind. “Good memories. Though…” I swallowed. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain being half the age I’m supposed to be, let alone her being a grandmother. And that Hyacinth’s kids will be toddlers by then, Lisa’s too if it takes. That’s going to be one hell of a conversation.”

“That it will, assuming we succeed. But returning to country music, you don’t consider yourself a fan?” she asked, her pencil moving across the paper on her clipboard.

“Not really, about the only things I can think of that I like are ‘The Gambler’ by Kenny Rogers, ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’, the Johnny Cash version of ‘Hurt’, Garth Brooks’ stuff before that Chris Gaines experiment, and… well, Shania Twain’s tits.”

Harley chuckled as she jotted something down, “They are nice, aren’t they? What kind of music would you consider yourself a fan of?”

“Seventies and Eighties rock, especially hair metal. Queen, of course.  Heart, White Lion, Bon Jovi. The odd bubblegum pop that makes me smile. Debbie Gilson, Tiffany. Not grunge. I was about five when disco hit the scene and still love it. The Bee Gees had some fucking awesome harmonies. Donna Summer. Oh, and the Village People are an open, not guilty, pleasure. I was seven when YMCA came out, so yes, I can do the dance.”

She peered at me over her reading glasses (at least I think they were reading glasses, they might just have been plain glass to give her the sexy doctor look) with a considering look on her face. Before lightly shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Turning back to the clipboard, she jotted down a note before glancing back up at me to ask her next question.

“Related to that, do you sing? While sober, anyway?”

“‘Sober’?”

“You seem like the kind of person that sings after a few, you should hear Waylon after Harvy slips him a shot or two of whiskey.”

I blinked once. Twice, “Waylon, as in Killer Croc?”

Harley nodded, her amusement plain to see, “Beautiful voice and great range too, not just the bass you’d expect from listening to him talk, but I’ve heard him match Red once or twice on karaoke night. But you never did answer my question.”

Shaking my head to banish the image of Killer Croc in a karaoke booth with Poison Ivy on his lap, I cleared my throat and took a moment to gather my thoughts. “Not often, but sometimes. In the shower, the car, random places during Christmas time. But I’ve had no training and aren’t very good. Though I have wondered what sort of music that the Sith Empire than Lana and Nikhol came from had.”

“You aren’t the only one, perhaps there are some copies in the Yamato’s computers? It had a rather large movie and TV selection after all. It would probably be nice to have a karaoke night with songs from our different worlds and pasts.”

“Sounds like a good idea, I’ll bring it up with the rest of the Family and the Coven.”

[center]<<Rhonda Weasley>>[/center]

Well… I have no idea how this happened. I was just glad I noticed before any of us cast a spell.

“So, ‘Mione. Any idea what happened?” I asked as the four of us sat in the Room of Requirements.

“Are you posi…” she began again, not that I blamed her, if I was right then our Hogwarts careers were basically shot due to the need to focus on control.

“As sure as I can be without actually casting a spell,” I told her, glancing at the table holding our wands. I’d been freaked out enough that I all but confiscated them as soon as we were all here.

“Rhonda, wouldn’t we have noticed if we got the sort of magical boost you think we did? The ritual was on a Tuesday, it’s now Friday,” Harry argued.

“And how many times have we used our wands in class since then?” I asked rhetorically.

We were all quiet for a moment, before Harry gave a firm nod and shooed us out of the Room, grabbing our wands on the way out. She paced three times to reset the Room, before opening the door to reveal a spell-range, with several dummies at various ranges and what looked like the dorm mattresses lined up against the walls and ceiling.

“Easiest way to know for sure is to test it,” Harry explained as she moved to one of the spots marked on the floor to cast from. Pointing her wand at one of the dummies, she intoned, “Stupefy.”

What happened next was far, far more than I expected. Not only did the spell shoot out of her wand in a much tighter beam, not only was it at least ten times faster, not only did the dummy explode when the spell hit it, but Harry was sent flying back as the spell left her wand with a sound reminiscent of the cannon blasts used during the Triwizard. Harry slammed into the mattresses lining the walls, a good thirty meters behind her, and fell to the floor in a heap.

“Harry?!” Hermione shouted as the three of us raced over to her. Fortunately Harry was already standing up, her eyes wide behind her glasses as she stared at the smoking ruins of what used to be a target dummy. “Are you alright?”

“Fuck me sideways,” Harry muttered.

“That’s what you and Bear did the second time,” Luna pointed out, her voice more vacant than usual as she stared at the destroyed dummy.

“So… talk to Professor Dumbledore?” I asked, because there was no way we could participate in regular classes with our magic like that.

[center]<<10 minutes later>>[/center]

“Might I ask what brings four young women to my office?” Professor Dumbledore asked as we filed into his office.

“Well Professor…” ‘Mione started, pausing and looking to the side briefly, before taking a breath and forcing the words out in a rush, “WeperformedaCovenritualafewnightsagoandourmagicisfarmorepowerfulnowbutIdon’tknowwhy,therewasnothinginthebookthatmentioneditasapossi…”

“‘Mione, breathe,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder.

She took another breath, before starting again at an understandable pace, “We performed a Coven ritual a few nights ago, and our magic is far more powerful now. But I don’t know why, the book I found the ritual in didn’t mention anything like it as a possible side effect.”

“What was the intended effect?” Professor Dumbledore asked, leaning forwards with keen interest.

“Immunity to a select spell or potion, one per Coven member participating,” Luna answered.

He blinked, an odd look appearing in his eyes, “This ritual, does it require the active participation of a muggle man?”

“Yes,” Harry slowly said, looking anywhere but the Professor as her cheeks turned red (not that mine were any better from the burning I was feeling).

“Did you find the ritual in the Black Library over the summer?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, her face as red as my hair as she too had a hard time looking at the Professor.

Professor Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, muttering something quietly under his breath. I didn’t hear what it was, but he stood up and made his way to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of floo powder, he threw it into the fire and called out, “Grimmauld Place,” before sticking his head in it.

The four of us waited there for a moment, before Hermione’s eyes widened, “Oh Maeve, how is this going to affect our OWLs?”

Harry turned to me and grumbled, “If she says ‘or worse, expelled,’ I’m diving through the Floo.”

‘Mione whirled around, glaring at Harry, “I’m not that bad!”

“First year. Fluffy.”

“…I’m not that bad, anymore!”

It was at that point that Professor Dumbledore pulled his head from the Floo, followed by Miss Diomedes stepping out. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Harry’s back straightening and her face turning a different kind of red than it had been while we were explaining our situation to Professor Dumbledore.

“Girls,” Miss Diomedes greeted us, moments before her lip curled in an amused smirk, “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be calling you that anymore, given what you had planned earlier this week. I trust it was everything you’d been hoping for, particularly for you Little One?”

Harry’s blush reached past the neck of her robes, but she stammered out, “G-good. It was good!”

“Wonderful,” Miss Diomedes purred. Was it getting warm in here, or was it just me? “The Headmaster tells me that you are having some… issues with your magic now. Care to elaborate?”

“Harry used a Stunning spell and it caused the target to turn into a pile of rubble while sending her flying from the recoil,” Luna bluntly stated, causing Miss Diomedes to blink before her gaze focused on Harry, the teasing note to her disappearing in an instant.

“Impressive. Most impressive. You are unhurt?”

“I made sure there were cushions behind me before I cast it.”

“Show me.”

[center]<<Nikhol Diomedes>>[/center]

I didn’t make it back to the mutt’s residence until early morning, having spent the entire night with the Coven trying to teach them some control exercises that I’d thought would work. There was… some success, not much, but some. Casting spells no longer sent them flying back a full two hundred meters (we measured), but even non-destructive spells still caused the wood and straw targets to detonate with the force of a stun grenade.

Clearly I was going at this the wrong way. I’d need to speak with Lana, see if she had any ideas. Because from what the Old Man had said, it seemed that the members of the Coven now possessed more raw power than any other two or even three individuals alive combined. Rejuvenating myself with the Force, I made my way to the Black Library, perhaps the book Hermione found the ritual in would have some insight.

“Ma’am, how was Hogwarts?” the mutt asked as I passed him on the way to the Library, the fear radiating from him upon seeing me a delightful bouquet I’d normally savor, but the need to understand what happened took priority.

“Your goddaughter most likely will not be participating in her annual exams, unless we can find some way to teach her and her Coven a sufficient level of control,” I answered.

“What?”

“The ritual they partook in has resulted in the entire coven possessing far greater raw power than they can currently control.”

I was about to put the mutt out of my mind, when his next words made me pause, “The ritual… it was a virginal sacrifice one? Offering virginity in exchange for some benefit?”

Turning around, I gave the mutt a considering stare. He did grow up in a household that had a wealth of respect for ancient lore and heritage, perhaps he knew something. “Two virginities, for each member of the Coven participating. Performed twice.”

“Four ‘offerings’, four witches, on Halloween, and with the entirety of the Coven?” the mutt let out a low whistle. “Merlin, if I’m right… holy fuck.”

“I am not in the mood for guessing games,” I warned him.

“Assuming I’m right about this, and it fits with what I remember Mum telling my cousins about Coven Rituals, then by having the entire coven offer their virginities at the same time, twice for real and twice symbolically while having a total of four witches in the Coven… I think each one of them now has the magical strength of the entire Coven had combined before the ritual.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and clarified, “So if each of them had a strength of say… five before the ritual, they are now all at twenty?”

“It’s never that simple, but essentially, yes. Morgana’s tits, those girls are more powerful now than when wizards were worshiped as gods. Fuck, I can scarecly imagine what sort of magic they’ll be able to do once they’ve gotten a handle on their new power.”

I considered some of the displays I’d done when I still had the full complement of ghosts bound to me and the feats of power I’d seen Vitiate perform, both before and after he’d used my body as a temporary residence. I couldn’t resist the grin that stretched my lips at what I could teach those young treats to do. The potential, the power…

The mutt ran off, wise of him, given the last time I’d grinned like this was shortly before demonstrating just why the Jedi Council put a ‘Flee on Sight’ order on me.