Nexus Event - Chapter 10 (Patreon)

I woke up, as usual, with the comforting weight of a warm body next to me.

There was still the potential chance that our parents might show up, so Sara and I slept in our younger forms. In addition to that, we were children. Especially in those forms, sleep tended to come easier, last longer, and be generally deeper and more refreshing. Plus, it gave us a sense of solidarity with the other girls, who all lived with some degree of parental supervision and it was good practice for when we all went to Hogwarts in a few months. Outside of clandestine meetups, we'd be assuming our childhood guises full-time once that happened.

Which... honestly, I was of two minds about.

On the first, Hogwarts represented a huge time sink. Classes, socialization, club activities, after-school assignments... All of it was an enormous investment for a questionable amount of gain. I'd already dropped the money on five sets of the Hogwarts course books from first through seventh year for us to cycle around as-needed, in addition to the sets we'd need for first year. Then I'd gone the extra step of hiring a content expert who'd worked with a few of the other magical schools around the world on curriculum plans and sourcing textbooks.

It was... underwhelming, for the most part.

Oh, the local magic was impressive when used properly, I wasn't contesting that.

It's just... the vast majority of wizards didn't need to use it 'properly' in their daily lives. Most witches and wizards worked daily jobs, likely out of societal inertia, but that was neither here nor there. The point was that most people had about... three or four dozen spells they needed to use on a regular basis, and one or two dozen beyond that with which they were passingly familiar for rarer occasions.

Yes, they spent seven years in school, in most countries at least, but like any knowledge, the skills to apply it atrophied if you didn't keep them up.

Like, how often do you meet an adult who knows and uses the Pythagorean Theorem in everyday life? That's probably about the same number as people who know how to transfigure something into a sofa or actually cast a shield spell.

There was also the inherent problem of a lack of more traditional education. It was legitimately difficult to find a magical school that offered classes on non-magical subjects and almost impossible to find one which made the classes mandatory instead of optional.

Magic schools were just that: schools which taught magic.

Often, to the exclusion of all else.

Which, well... it was only a problem if you wanted to use magic to do anything outside the context of wizarding society. Like adapt it to muggle technology in order to fight an incoming demon invasion. That isn't to say there weren't attempts to do so, but they were largely in the theoretical and hobbyist stages, being utilized by researchers and weirdos aside from the rare proliferation of certain things like the wizarding wireless.

However, as far as learning magic goes, for people with preternatural enhancements, that same quirk made it extremely easy.

Which, in turn, meant that all of my little cadre were speeding through the curriculum in our spare time.

So, why bother with Hogwarts at all? Wel, for a few reasons. The fact remained that all of the girls really needed a second childhood, that hadn't changed. Especially with what was coming on the horizon, they needed time to destress and enjoy life. Going to the school would ensure that we couldn't simply work ourselves to death whenever we felt it was necessary and cut all our ties to the outside world. It also enabled us to easily stay in contact with each other for most of the year without having to deal with meddlesome parents. It effectively gave us the best of both words in having friends and families and also giving us plenty of time to dodge them when needed.

Most importantly, though, it was part of the original contract some idiot had signed back when this mission had first been drawn up.

Why was all of this running through my head when I had a cute girl curled up next to me in bed?

Firstly, because such thoughts reminded me why I needed to get out of bed. If I didn't focus on them, I'd definitely roll over and go back to sleep. Because I had arranged a meeting with Dumbledore today to go over some things I'd found in the Pendragon vaults while doing some accounting and looking over some ancient records. The second issue was that the girl beside me was not my sister and I had to remind myself precisely why there was a young dark-haired girl practically laying atop me before I remembered that we were hosting Harriet until such time as we all left to go to Hogwarts.

I sighed deeply as I stared down at her, the vivid green, violet, crimson, and gold of her new magical tattoo framed perfectly as the right side of her face rested against my chest. An intricate tangle of vines, flowers, and shifting eyes glittering in the background of a beautifully-inked moving magical forest scene ran from her left jawline down her neck and took over much of that side of her chest, trailing a few leaves and vines onto her cheek and down to the flesh of her immature left breast. An especially-elaborate braid of greenery and blooms encompassed her left arm down to the elbow, making the tattoo among the largest I'd ever seen in person.

In addition to that, our day out the week prior had seen prompting by my sister to have her eyes fixed, ears and right eyebrow pierced multiple times apiece, and her hair styled into a shorter and jutting affair that complemented its eternal messiness rather than detracted from it.

Pepper's betrayal especially stung, having taken Sara's side on the whole makeover, simply on the basis that Harriet needed a choice in her appearance for the first time in her life. Thankfully, the redhead seemed to have learned her lesson after the tattoo. Even if the magical ink was comparatively easy, safe, and quick to remove should it become necessary.

Sara, notably, had not.

...and she's probably at fault for Harriet finding her way to my bed, as well. Someone needs another spanking.

Discreetly, I ran a hand down the young girl's form, finding no bra, but thankfully catching a finger on a silk thong. Despite my own nudity, that meant I could be sure nothing had happened the night previous, even if I liked to think I would have woken up at that kind of disturbance. Still, the fact that Harriet's breath caught as I checked told me all I needed to know about her state of wakefulness.

“Was it your idea or Sara's?” I asked quietly, making sure not to spook her.

“Ah... am I in trouble if it's mine? Sara said to blame her for it, but...” Harriet murmured, her eyes sliding open before drifting shut again.

She's doing it on purpose, whether she knows it or not. That settles it.

“You're not in trouble,” I assured her. “Would you care to tell me why, though?”

“Because... I thought it might get you to sign it?” She squeaked tightly.

My enhanced intellect immediately picked out the problem. Even if I might have eventually seen through the situation to the heart of the matter without it, with it I did so in the heat of the moment.

Harriet probably had a crush on me. That wasn't the issue, though. A powerful, confident, knowledgeable person had removed her from an abusive homelife. Of course she'd develop feelings for them. I wouldn't put it past her to have a bit of a girl-crush on Sara and Kitty as well. No, the actual problem was...

“You know I'm not going to throw you out on your ear even if I don't bind your soul to mind through a magical contract, right?” I asked, stroking her back soothingly.

Her breath caught again, but at this close range even my neophyte powers allowed me to calm the spike of panic she'd felt at being found out so easily. “I-It would make it harder, though, wouldn't it?”

Right now I'd put good money on her thoughts being something like, 'Yeah, he's tolerating me right now, but how long until he realizes I'm not worth it and kicks me out?' And I don't even need to read her mind to tell you that.

“All your life you've been told you're worthless,” I whispered to her. “One day you'll realize that, even if you know they lied to you up here-” I tapped her temple. “-it will take time to realize it here.” I shifted my hand and tapped her back, over the spot where her heart was. “Until then, remember that when I've found a treasure, I don't let it go without a fight.”

Harriet choked back a sudden sob, her fingers gripping at me almost painfully.

The real problem was self-esteem. Staring down at the shaking girl, I amended that to include a mal-adapted sense of social boundaries as well. The fact that she'd picked out a very counter-culture appearance with only minor prompting from Pepper and Sara meant she wanted to test how far she could push in her new environment, even (especially) if that meant it was self-destructive to a limited extent. Radically changing her appearance from the look she had when I'd picked her up and then throwing herself at me was a textbook move for an immature child to see if acceptance was unconditional or very conditional.

Harriet had grown up waiting to be punished for virtually anything she did. Even if she wasn't beaten half to death like some hyperbolic versions of the Harry Potter stories liked to use as a cheap plot device, growing up in the environment warps a child's sense of right and wrong. Right was whatever didn't get them punished, wrong was whatever did. Unlike your average child, though, the sort of standard they got used to at home didn't equate to what the rest of the world expected.

So if you take a child from a home like the Dursleys and they're treated like Harriet was, the response very often is that they'll act out in search of new boundaries and limits.

A random neuron fired somewhere in the dark corners of my brain.

I instantly felt like hitting myself.

I'm going to have to find some way to set actual boundaries with Sara too, aren't I?

Goddammit.

…

“Ah! Young Master and Mistress Pendragon!” The long-bearded wizard in the starry robes called as we approached the gargoyle that normally hid the staircase to the Headmaster's office. Looking surprised to see us and likely only having recognized us by the patches over our left chests bearing the classic Welsh dragon. “I was just on my way down to the front entrance to greet you!”

“That won't be necessary,” Sara grinned at the aged man. “We took the floo to the Pendragon suite. Much faster than walking all the way from the village.”

Albus Dumbledore blinked at us over his half-moon spectacles. “The Pendragon... suite? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such a thing.”

“Seventh floor, directly above the great hall,” I replied with a small smile. In reality, we hadn't actually taken the floor. I wasn't even sure if it worked, given it had been installed with the first iteration of what was now the national floor network, back in the fourteen hundreds. Besides that, though, Sara outright refused to get soot all over herself and ride a disorienting rollercoaster when we could just use the teleportation room instead.

I... didn't disagree.

Dumbledore chuffed a laugh, looking some combination of amused and bemused. “Well! Hogwarts does have its surprises about her, still. Even after all these years I occasionally run into a room or corridor that I've never seen before. In any case, why don't you two come up?”

Exchanging pleasantries as we walked up, I adjusted the shoulder-strap of the bag I was carrying. Sara, meanwhile, delighted in subtly poking and prodding the old man as we went, Dumbledore apparently taking the teasing in good humor. It probably helped that my sister still had her claws in so far.

Hero or villain, the girl can be vicious when she applies herself.

“So,” Dumbledore began, seating himself behind the great desk at one side of the room as we took chairs opposite it. “I understand that you two are here to enroll as students in Hogwarts, however-”

Casting a glance at the large book open on the desk before him, he opened his mouth to continue but stopped abruptly as he caught sight of something. Frowning, he adjusted his glasses and peered closer at the text. “Hmm... apparently, your names have been added to the enrollment book. Odd, I had checked again just prior to this meeting.”

Gimlet eyes slid up to us, twinkling with sly curiosity and inviting an answer.

“Pendragons are automatically enrolled after setting foot within the castle grounds,” I replied casually.

“Fascinating,” the elderly wizard noted, then leaned back to consider us. “Now, while that does appear to be the primary matter of this meeting settled, I would-”

Sara cleared her throat politely.

Albus paused, tilting his head. “I take it you wish to speak, Ms. Pendragon?”

“While it seems you've taken the admittedly oblique language used in our letter to refer to the matter of our schooling, I'm afraid we were merely being overly polite in requesting time to properly audit your performance.” Sara smiled a bit too widely. “As is our right.”

There was rumbling in the peanut gallery as several of the previous administrators' portraits began to squawk about propriety.

Albus blinked, raising a hand for silence as more bemusement cloaked his expression while he stroked his beard. “I'm afraid I do not quite understand.”

“Under the original Hogwarts charter, as laid down by the founders, it is the right of the Pendragon family and its chosen representatives to audit the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Board of Governors thereof no more than once a decade to review decisions made by said bodies as involves the running of the school itself and the financial disposition of the institution.” My explanation only brought a further frown to the man's face as his eyebrows dug in deeply for a long moment.

“I'm afraid there is no such line in the charter, young man,” Dumbledore stated authoritatively, rising from his seat and walking over to a bureau to, after a moment of shuffling, withdraw a rolled up document which he sat down and unfurled on the desk atop the open book. “And I would be a poor headmaster indeed had I not read the charter of the very school I once taught at and even now administrate.”

Sara and I leaned forward before exchanging a look of feigned exasperation. As she shook her head, I met the Headmaster's gaze and flipped open my bag to pull out a scroll case. “Sir, I am afraid that is not the charter, as it is in modern English. It is doubtless a copy of a copy of a copy, if not further removed. As such, it is not an official document as it does not bear the signatures of the Founders.”

“Am I to take it that what you have produced is, in fact, the original?” The Headmaster asked, sitting up in his chair attentively before looking away from the case and back towards us at our short nods. “As I seem to be well and truly in the dark about things, perhaps it would be best if we start from the beginning. Why do you two believe you have the right to... audit the performance of the sitting Headmaster or Headmistress?”

“As laid out in the original charter, a copy of which was retained by each of the Four Founders and the House of Pendragon,” Sara began. “In exchange for rather significant financial contributions to the school's construction in the hiring of magical and mundane craftsmen, bribing of local lords, and compensation of certain wizarding nobility... each of the Four Founders and House Pendragon would be allowed to call an audit once per decade to review the school's performance.”

“If I may?” Dumbledore asked, extending a hand towards the scroll case.

I nodded, offering it up and watched as he carefully opened it and removed a heavily enchanted piece of sheepskin with careful writing on it. His eyes skittered over the likely-unreadable text down to the bottom of the document, drawing in a breath when he took in the signatures. “What language is this?”

“Vulgar Latin,” I replied. “Salazar was the scribe for the group, with Rowena and Camwen Pendragon vouching for him, as neither Godric nor Helga were literate.”

Albus blinked, looking back up at us for a moment before turning back to the document. “Remarkable,” he whispered reverently, whetting his lips. “Regardless of what is discussed here today... could I ask that this be placed on display for the school? Such relics of the Founder's Era are very rare.”

Sara looked at me and I shrugged. “That should be fine. It's the Hufflepuff copy, anyway. The Pendragon one is safely in our vaults.”

“Truly? Fascinating,” Albus nodded, still looking over the ancient skin. “May I ask how your family came into possession of it?”

Sara smirked. “In the centuries after the founding of Hogwarts, the Founders' families fell on hard times. Eventually, they sold their shares in school to the Pendragon family. Although by that point the Slytherin and Gryffindor charters had gone missing. As such, we only have a signed letter of sale from their descendants to mark the transfer of property.”

“I see,” Albus nodded, looking at us carefully again. Doubtless, the old wizard had caught the rather blunt hint Sara had just dropped. “While I do not want to accuse you of acting in bad faith, I will need to find an expert in Vulgar Latin to verify these terms. Would it be acceptable to negotiate an alternative date for this... audit while I make preparations?”

Sara and I exchanged another look.

I turned back to him, nodding shortly. “We can agree to that. Perhaps in a week's time?”

Albus nodded, looking off into the middle-distance speculatively. “That... should be enough time, I suppose. I will have to make some arrangements, although... I do not wish to offend, but may I ask why you and your sister, Solomon, have been sent to perform such a task? Would it not be less tedious to burden an older relative if your parents are indisposed?”

“We're the main branch heirs of the Pendragon family,” I replied. “Moreover, none of the family actually has any attachment to the British Isles anymore, despite our extensive properties here. I don't believe any individual in the family has spent so much as a single night on the islands since the mid-fifteen hundreds. The people of the isles made themselves very clear that we were not wanted when they destroyed Camelot.”

Albus blinked, opening his mouth once before closing it and trying again. “I had thought... was it not Mordred who destroyed the famed Kingdom of the Round Table?”

I sighed as Sara grimaced silently. “Our many-times great-grandfather will never live that legend down, it appears. No, suffice to say that the codifiers of the so-called Arthurian Legend had every interest in producing a good story, not a truthful one. Camelot fell to incited upheaval and a rebellion led by members of the rural nobility who disagreed with Modred's granddaughter's rule. Camelot very much survived the death of Arturia Pendragon and her daughter Mordred.”

Albus appeared legitimately fascinated by the whole tale, nodding slowly, then stopping. “I'm sorry, but... I'm afraid you just referred to Mordred as both your Grandfather and the daughter of King... Arturia? Was... he perhaps a metamorphmagus?”

There was an implied question there, yes.

“Blame Merlin,” both Sara and I stated in unison deadpan.

“I'm afraid I don't understand,” Albus stated.

I looked to Sara for help, but she held up both hands and shook her head. “You know the history better than I do, Solomon.”

“To make a very long story short, despite their best efforts Geoffrey of Monmouth and Thomas Malory archived some of the courtly romantic drama correctly. The simply overlooked the fact that the King who they claimed to have been born male, was in fact female, and passed herself off as a beardless-youth by virtue of the enchanted sheath Avalon which allowed her to retain her youth.”

“Then how did-” Dumbledore began curiously and I raised a hand to stop him from asking it.

“Merlin,” I repeated. “He provided the... equipment in question.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore nodded slowly, a complicated expression on his face. “I see.”

“If we're done, then?” Sara asked.

“I believe so,” Albus nodded, rising to show us out. “Unless there is anything specific I should need to prepare for next week?”

“A list of the current Board of Governors, Professors and Staff of Hogwarts, and enrollment records from the past few decades of your tenure wouldn't be amiss,” I replied, receiving a slow nod from the man. “Also, a very lengthy and detailed explanation of why Serverus Snape is still employed by this institution.”

Albus sighed, “I can assure you, I have every confidence in Severus and that he has-”

“Contributed directly to the appalling drop in qualified potioneers over the past decade,” Sara sniped, interrupting the old man and taking a piece of parchment from me before handing it to him. “Of which hard, factual data documenting said trend is noted here. You may also use the next week to double-check our work on that front.”

Dumbledore grimaced as he looked over the figures. They'd been easy enough to compile. Or, rather, blackmail Rita Skeeter into compiling for us.

“You would also be well-served Headmaster, by having a rather thorough and complete explanation of why you placed one Harriet Jamie Potter in an abusive home. While I acknowledge such an action was technically within your rights as Chief of the Wizengamot, your simultaneous occupation of multiple offices has made it difficult to differentiate personal and professional conduct and the motivations thereof.”

A complicated series of expressions rose and fell across the old man's face. “I can assure you that Harriet Potter is-”

“Under our care and protection,” Sara interceded again, drawing surprise from the old man. “Moreover, we have contacted specialists to remove the portion of Tom Riddle's soul lodged in her scar. We have also removed the soul fragment hidden here, in Hogwarts, which is another matter we intend to discuss. Hopefully without the curse in place, though, you will be able to retain a reasonably competent Defense Professor.”

“As you can see,” I stated, turning towards the pale and gaping man. “We have much to be concerned about, Headmaster. I very much hope you manage to formulate adequate explanations in the time you have been given.”

Allowing the door to shut behind us and cutting off whatever the old man was about to say, I raised a hand and received a high-five from my sister. Then I returned it as she dropped her hand below her waist.

Was it fair to the old man? No, absolutely not. As fond as he was of reminding people, Albus Dumbledore was only human. Still, I needed the head of the International Confederation of Wizards rather firmly under my thumb if I was going to successfully herd the ugly mass of cats I needed to.

~~~

One of the fringe stories that I don't often get an opportunity to write, but I hope its well-received regardless.

Next up, onto more popular stuff! I'm thinking... Industrious' Marvel side and The New Ron to finish out the month.