Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Amphitrite	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Troy. �I try to wrap my head around it.� I stare at the giant wooden horse and suffer
a moment of Slytherin cynicism�why would they ever
glorify their own defeat by keeping a replica of its instrument?

I shake my head.� It was
thousands of years ago.� To these people,
it is nothing more than something of historical interest.� No one could positively say if it was legend
or fact.� Me, I think it all happened,
especially now that I know those meddlesome gods exist.� Besides, if I knew my history they had gotten
the Greeks back well enough.

I wonder what it must have been like.�
I have seen war, but never on the scale that the ancients waged it.� Troy
had been burned to the ground, utterly destroyed.� I turn and look out over the ruins.� They go as far as my eye can see, and though
there is little but scarred foundations, it is obvious that it was large.

I try to imagine what it would have been like if Voldemort
had directed his attention at London.� But the war had never been about destroying
places; it was about destroying a population and a way of life.� No one wanted to demolish London.�
They merely wanted it back from the Muggles�all
of it, and more.

All that aside�why the hell was I here?� I was no cartographer but I did have a
rudimentary grasp of Mediterranean geography; Troy
was in Turkey, close to the
sea, and Greece
was not far away.� I could be back at Preveza in a day, maybe two.� It was hardly a challenge.

The three men, who I have learned are named Mehmet,
Zeki, and Cecil, are walking towards me.� I�m sure they�ve been discussing my sanity,
and I can�t blame them.� People don�t
usually show up in a place and have no idea where they are or what they are
there for unless they are lacking in that department.

�Forgive us,� Mehmet said as they approached,
�we have completely forgotten to ask you your name.�� In the brief quiet that follows his question,
I can almost hear them thinking �if you remember it.�

�Lucius,� I say.� �Lucius Malfoy.�

�Good,� Cecil says.� �That is
something to go on.�

�Listen, I can�t explain to you how I wound up here, but I know where I
have to go.�

�Where?� Zeki asks.

�Greece.� Preveza, specifically.�
That�s where I was before.� That�s
where my family is.�

�You know this, and you know who you are, but you have no idea how you
came to be here?�

I shrug as convincingly as possible.�
I know how I got here, but I still don�t know why.� It�s irksome.

�It is not as if strange things have not happened here before,� Mehmet is saying.�
�He seems all right.�

�Strange things?� I ask, perking up.� Strange happenings often meant that some
magic was afoot, and if I could find where it was coming from� �Like what?�

�Mehmet is superstitious,� Cecil said,
shaking his head.

�It�s not all superstition,� Zeki
replied.� �Even you have to admit that
this place has its fair share of odd happenings.�

�Well, yes, but I�m not as convinced as you two that it is Apollo and
the spirits of the dead mucking about.��
Cecil rolled his eyes.

�Apollo?� I ask, my interest
even more piqued.� So he has ties to this
place.

�Apollo was the patron god of Troy,�
Zeki explained.�
�And I never said it was him.� I
don�t believe in some antiquated legend.�

�Ah yes, you and your Allah,� Cecil muttered.

Zeki gave him a look.�
�You and your Jesus.�

�Gentlemen,� I say, before they can go any further, �I don�t want to
start any kind of ideological argument.�
I just want to know how I can get back to Greece.�

�Come with me,� Mehmet says, taking me by the
elbow.� �Leave the two of them to their
debate.� It is good-natured, but boring
when you have heard it ten times already.�

I allow him to lead me away from the bickering men.� We enter a building which appears to be a
museum.� The intellectual part of me
wants to look around, but there are more pressing matters at hand.� Mehmet brings me
down a long corridor and into an office.�
The air is much cooler in here, and I feel my brain clearing the last of
the cobwebs that were so persistent outside.

The dark man sits behind the desk after offering me a glass of
water.� I take it, realizing suddenly how
thirsty I am, and drink it so fast that a faint throb of pain spikes in my head
from its coldness.

�More?� he asks.

�No, I�m all right.�� I sit
across from him, content to lull in the cool air for another moment before
pressing my agenda.

�So, Lucius Malfoy,�
he says, my name sounding odd but powerful in his accent, �how does a wizard
like you end up out here, lying unconscious beneath the Trojan Horse?� �

Severus was working on the potion in the dragon-shaped
vessel.� His movements were automatic,
but his mind was not as diligent as his hands.�
It was wandering, jumping from thought to thought in a way that was not
at all characteristic of him.

Above all, he had always been able to put some kind of order to his
thoughts.� It was what made him him.� But now
his mind was being split too many ways; he was thinking about the warning form
Hephaestus, his strange confrontation with Hermione, where the hell Lucius was, and what was in that school�

A feeling he despised was returning to him.� It was the feeling of responsibility; he had
never been free of it as long as Voldemort
lived.� Not responsibility for what
happened, per se, but the responsibility to protect, to be a voice of reason,
to keep things from escalating�

It was a foolish feeling, because people inevitably did what they
wanted to do anyway.� He could not stop
Hermione or the other diggers from pressing on inside the school.� Severus had to
admit that he was battling his own curiosity.�
Aside from a few important milestones, the distant, distant past of the wizarding world was mostly blank.� In fact, there was very little before
Merlin.� But this place obviously
predated that by at least a thousand years.

He cursed softly as he managed to scrape himself rather than the potion
bottle.� He was too distracted for
this.� Setting it aside, he allowed
himself to slouch in his chair.� He
abandoned what hold he had on the dam of his brain and let the thoughts flow.

If only he had more information�

It was at that moment that the door to his cabin was flung open and Leonidas Andropolous burst
inside.� �You are the Potions Master?� he
demanded, attempting to catch his breath.�
Normally Severus would have been put off by
his rudeness, but his tone spoke of something too important for etiquette.

�Yes,� he answered.� �Have you
found something?�

�In a manner of speaking,� he wheezed.�
�Come with me.�

Severus rose quickly and followed the harried man.� He seldom had the feeling that someone
up in the heavens was listening to him.�
It happened once in a while, and he usually attributed it to pure
chance. �He knew this was not a coincidence,
though.� Someone really was
listening�moving the pieces on the chess board�but he did not know who.� He had read Greek myths since his childhood;
he knew gods and goddesses took sides.�
Which side was this, moving so brashly to enlighten him?�

My eyes narrow slightly as I register that Mehmet
is a wizard.� He hid it well.� I wonder if his companions are, too, but
dismiss the thought.� He would not have
taken the care to remove me from their company if they were.

�You know me, then,� I say.

�Who does not?� he shrugs.� �Most
witches and wizards have heard of you and your line, if not for your money then
for your�other activities.�

I meet his stare.� It is hard and
challenging, but I have received much worse in my time.� His look does not say he wishes me dead, as
some do.� It merely says he will not be
forgetting my sins anytime soon.� I have
nothing to say to that.� I have a long
memory, too.

After a few moments, he returns his glance to the desk.� �What are you doing in Greece?�

�I�m sure you heard about the cave-in�the ancient school of magic?�

His eyebrows jump up.� �Yes, I
had heard�it is in Preveza?�

I nod.

�And you were working there?�

I nod again.

�Then how did you get here?� Somehow
I think you are a bit too polished for botched apparition.�

�You wouldn�t believe me if I told you,� I murmur, shaking my head.

�Are you sure of that?� he asks, the expression on his face daring me
to tell him.

I contemplate him.� He has the
air of a man in the know.� I am in Troy, the patron city of Apollo�and why would they have a wizard
here�?

�It has to do with�a certain�being,� I say carefully.

Mehmet laughs.�
�Apollo is playing, then.�

�You could say that,� I reply, thoughts exploding in my head.� Playing?�
Would he have issued such warnings if it was merely a game?

�Half of what I do here is conceal his flights
of fancy,� Mehmet sighs, shaking his head.� �For a being who has
been around for thousands of years, maturity is sometimes lost on him.�

I should not be as surprised as I am when the sun suddenly goes behind
a cloud and the light in the room promptly dies.

�Scare tactics,� Mehmet scoffs.� �He knows I am right.�

�So you are here to prevent the muggles from
seeing the magic that exists?�

�Yes.� That and I work at the Academy of Divination.�

�The Academy
of Divination?� I ask.� I have never heard of such a place.

�Few are privileged or talented enough to attend it,� he replies.� �They put it here because it was the home of
Cassandra.� She was one of the greatest
diviners in history, you know.�

I nod.� That much I remember from
the storybooks.� �So everyone that
attends is actually�a real clairvoyant?�

�In their own way, yes.� Some with crystal balls, some with
prophecies, some with odd things you would not believe�there is one girl who
can astral project between dimensions, and a boy who can tell anyone who their
true love is�he has been there four years and has not been wrong yet��

I frown as Mehmet trails off.� Powers of divination were a blessing and a
curse, in my opinion.� I wondered if the
boy who could see true love had any idea who his own soulmate
was�but I did not believe in such things anyway.

�The point is, there is so much psychic energy
in that school that strange things are bound to happen.� There are several people who work there as
Concealment Agents, like myself.�

I nod, still frowning.� I have no
idea why he has sent me here.

�So why on earth has Apollo sent you to me?� Mehmet
wonders, echoing my thoughts.

�I wish I knew.�

�Hmm,� is all Mehmet says for a while.� The room brightens while we sit in silence;
the clouds have moved on.� I can see bits
of dust swirling in the shafts of light that filter through the large windows.

�Does everyone know about him?� I ask as the minutes tick by.� �Are we Europeans just pitifully uninformed?�

�No,� he answers.� �Very few know
of him.� Very few indeed��

Severus spiraled dizzily out of the pensieve
that Cyrus had hastily procured from one of his bewildered relatives.� His head was exploding with questions.

�How�?� he said out loud, hardly noticing as Cyrus and Leo supported
his wobbly steps.� �I have studied that
formula up and down, wracked my brain for anything that could change it��

�The rules weren�t the same then, and neither were the ingredients,�
Leo said.

�But��

Leo only allowed him to stay paralyzed in thought for a minute.� �I know it is a lot to digest, but I need
your help amending the Babel
spell.�

�The spell?� Why?�
Severus asked absently.

�Did you not notice that when you were in the memory, you could
understand them?�

He blinked.� Of course he had
noticed, but he had taken it for granted, as the others had initially.� �So if we fed one of the memories into the
spell, you think it would add the language?�

�That�s what we�re hoping,� Cyrus said.�
�At the very least we�ll be able to partially understand her.�

�And then we can see if she still has that formula in her head�� Severus murmured.� He
headed for the door, heedless of the other men.

Leo and Cyrus exchanged a look.

�Are you sure we should unearth this?� Cyrus asked uneasily.

�You are asking me?� Leo remarked.

Cyrus only shook his head and sighed.

I am still sitting in silence with Mehmet
when a sound pierces the air.� I frown,
wondering what it is, but it does not bother me.� Mehmet, on the
other hand, stands up so fast that his chair falls over.

�What is it?� I ask.

�The alarms.� The alarms for the school!�

�The School
of Divination?�

�Yes,� he says, pulling out his wand and making for the door.

�Wait!� I shout, standing.� �What
does it mean?�

�It means,� he yells over his shoulder, �that the school is under
attack!�

I stand there for a moment, unsure what to do.� Am I supposed to help him, or am I supposed
to watch the chain of events unfold?� I
wish I had been given more clues.� But I
suppose that all I can do is follow my instincts � and they tell me to help
him.� They tell me to protect the
children.

�There you are,� someone said.�
�We�ve been looking everywhere for you two.�

Lupin looked up, as did Lilith.� He had been teaching her a few English
phrases since it did not seem likely that they would understand her language
anytime soon.� She was picking it up
quickly.� He could tell that she was a
very smart girl; it was a pity she�d had to wait a few thousand years to get her
education.

�Just trying to teach her some English,� he said, holding up the
book.� �What�s going on?�

�We think we�ve found a way to alter the Babel spell to include her language.� We need her to make sure that it works.�

Lilith looked at him eagerly. �She did not know what Leo had said, but was
observant enough to hear the positive note in his voice and see the hope in
both of their faces.� Remus
smiled at her.� This was good news.� Soon she would no longer be mute, and her
awakening would be complete.

�We�ll come with you.�� He stood
and offered a hand to Lilith.� The girl took it and followed him.

�She really likes you,� Leo said as they walked through the sand. He
glanced at Lilith; he felt bad talking about the girl
when she was right there, but this was probably one of the last opportunities he
would have to do so.

�Everyone keeps saying that.�� Lupin�s voice sounded slightly flat.� �It isn�t a matter of liking me.� I�m just the first person she�s ever met that
is like her.� It�s infatuation.� It will pass.�

Leo stole a long look at his face.�
His expression said it all: he did not like to become attached, because
people tended to abandon him in one way or another.� He frowned to himself.

�Mr. Lupin,� he stated, �I think you should
consider adopting her.�

Lupin stopped in his tracks.� Lilith looked up at
him, confused, but did not release his hand.

�Are you kidding?� I�m hardly
qualified��

�She�s going to need someone.�

�I am the worst possible person.�
I have nothing to offer her.�

�That isn�t true. �You have more
to offer her than most anyone else.�

Lupin�s glare was full of conflicting emotions.� �You barely know me.�

�That is true,� Leo said, smiling oddly.� �But I am an exceptionally good judge of
character.�

Remus sighed.� He
contemplated Leo, choosing his words carefully.

�It takes more than character to raise a child.�

It is utter chaos when I finally manage to catch up with Mehmet.� I don�t have
time to marvel at how beautiful the school is; sparks and dust surround us.

�You shouldn�t have followed!� he yells at me.�

�I think you�ll be glad I did!�

He looks at me grudgingly for a moment, before it becomes necessary for
us to duck and cover in the wake of a barrage of stunning spells.

�All right!� he shouts.� �Help me
get the students out safely!� I don�t
know where the others are��

It becomes clear as we make our way down the hallway that his fellow
Concealment Agents and teachers have already fallen
victim to the attackers.� I haven�t
gotten a good glimpse of one yet; there is too much smoke and madness and I am
not stupid enough to stand still for very long.

�This room is clear!� I hear Mehmet
shout.� He is heading out the door.� I am about to follow him when a small voice
stops me.

�Help!�

I squint, trying to find the source of it.� I spot the boy wedged underneath a desk.

�I�m stuck!� he cries.� �Help
me!�

I nod, more to myself than to him since I doubt he can see more than my
shins, and move toward him.� A loud sound
startles me, and a sudden pain explodes in my shoulder.� I go to my knees reflexively, teeth gritted
against the pain.� When I look down,
blood is coursing from a circular wound.�
I press my hand to it, but it does nothing � blood squirts between my
fingers.� What in the hell was this?� I�d never seen a spell create a wound like this,
a perfect little circle of destruction punched right through the flesh�

�Behind you!� the boy shrills.� I
hear something click.� Instinctively, I
roll.� That same loud explosion echoes in
the room; I see the tiles of the floor erupt into miniscule shards where I had
been moments before.�

Now my attacker is visible.� He
is all in black, a strange metal device in his hands.� His face is covered with a hood and
goggles.� I am faster than him this time;
he slumps over unconscious.� I am trying
to scramble to my feet when someone shouts,

�Expelliarmus!�

My wand flies out of my hand.� I
make a desperate grab for it, forgetting my wound.� Pain blooms and I gasp, sinking back to the
floor.� I am usually good at resisting
pain, working through it, but this is unlike anything I have ever felt.� It throbs insistently, robbing me of the
ability to do anything but breathe raggedly as I try to ride it out.

�I�ve got him,� the wizard was saying.

The hell you do, I thought to
myself.� Lucius
Malfoy was not easily gotten, not even when he had
holes punched in him�I vaguely register that there is a small pool of blood
forming beneath me, but I decide to ignore it.�
My brain obliges, and I lunge for the traitorous wizard.

He does not expect my brutality.�
Not many do.� Wizards are
sometimes lulled into the belief that someone without a wand can�t hurt
them.� I have proved them wrong on many
occasions, and later I will consider with some trepidation how good it felt to attack,
to lose control...�

He struggles, narrowly firing a jinx into the ceiling instead of my
face and managing to punch me solidly.�
There is more pain in my jaw, but adrenaline has taken over.� I have wrested the wand from his hand and now
we are on even terms again.� However, I
don�t have much strength in my wounded side, and once his surprise wears off he
is equal to the task.

I�m forced to my back.� He is a
big man, this hostile stranger.� My cheek
seems to implode beneath his fist and I teeter dangerously close to the edge of
unconsciousness.� The world tilts and
whirls, but his manhandling has shifted me close enough to where my wand
fell.� I reach out with my good arm, and
in a second he is neutralized.

I pant, clinging to consciousness.�
With great effort I shove the attacker aside.� I try to orient myself, but it is next to
impossible; the world is still spinning and it feels like my eyes are out of
focus.

�Hello?� the boy cries out.� �Are
you�are you there?�

I can follow the sound of his voice.�
The panic in it propels me, though walking is quite beyond me at the
moment.� I crawl.

�What�s stuck?� is all I can manage when I get to him.

�My leg.� The
desk bent��

The rest of his words don�t process.�
I focus on the boy�s leg, where it appears that two desks collided and
entangled themselves around his shin.�
With great concentration I am able to cut the metal away.� His leg is miraculously uninjured, and he gratefully
scrambles to his feet.� I get one good
look at him; he is dark-haired, dark-eyed, skin the color of tea mixed with
milk, and in five years women will be throwing themselves
at him.

�Go,� I say.� �Run.�

�What about you?�

�I�ll be all right.�

�You don�t look all right.�

I lose my temper.� �Get out of
here, you foolish boy!� I shout, staggering to my
feet.

He has a strange look on his face.�
�I won�t get hurt.� Let me help
you.�

I stare at him.� I have forgotten
that this is a school of divination.� It
must be nice to know you�d make it out of a fight unscathed; I seem to be doing
just the opposite lately.

�You�re not even supposed to be here, Lucius.�� The boy is squinting hard at me.� A strange quiet has fallen around us, almost
as if the fight is over.� Discomfort
fills me.� I hate the thought that he can
see through me, inside me � what was he looking at?� What parts of me would he unearth?

�Please,� I say, �we need to get to safety.�

His expression changes to a look of great sadness.� �I�m afraid there is no safety for you.�

His words hit me hard.� I can
feel the truth in them.� Somehow I know
he is right.

�These men,� the boy gestures at the unconscious attackers, �they�re
here for you.� And they won�t leave
without you.�

I hear footsteps coming down the hall.�
My time is short.

�Why?� I ask the boy urgently.� �Why me?�

�They think you know something.�

I shake my head.� I know many
things I�m not supposed to, but none of those things have yet warranted an
attack.� �What do they think I know?�

�A formula, or the location of a
formula.�� The boy�s face fills with
concern.� �You must not tell them.� You must not tell them anything.�

�I can�t tell them things I don�t know!�

Our conversation is curtailed as three men flood into the room.� Two wands and another of those odd metal
weapons are trained on my chest.

�Don�t try to fight, Malfoy,� one of them
says.� I still have my wand, and it would
not be the first time I had fought three people�

One of the wizards gestured to the man with the metal weapon.� He moved quickly toward the boy.� The dark-haired boy was very still, his eyes
fixed on me.�

�Don�t try anything,� the wizard repeats coldly.� �Put down your wand.�

�And if I don�t?� I say.� I�m
trying to buy time, to figure out how to get out of this�

�See that hole in your shoulder, Malfoy?� I�ll put one in his head.�

I swallow.� No one needs to tell
me that would be fatal.� Moving slowly, I
put my wand on the floor and step back.

�Strange,� the wizard says, levitating my wand into his hand.� �I would have expected you to let the boy die.�

I say nothing.� There was a time
when I might have.� Not anymore.� Who is this man, anyway, speaking as if he knows
me?� I have never seen him before.� He has an arrogant face with glittering, greedy
eyes and meticulously trimmed facial hair. ��

The wizard directs his attention at the boy.� �You are free to go.� Tell your headmaster I am very sorry for the
damage.�� His voice was full of sarcastic
glee.� The man with the metal weapon
prods the boy, and he walks toward the door.�
He casts one last look back at me and his voice sounds in my mind.

Tell them
nothing.�

Far away, a phone rang.� Edward
Nugent picked it up in the middle of the first ring.

�Yes?�

�We�ve got one of them,� the voice on the other end said.�

�One of the wizards?�

�Yes.�

�Where did you pick him up?�

�Near the old ruins of Troy,
in Turkey.� There was a school there, but it wasn�t the
right one.� It was still operational and
no werewolves.�

Edward sighed.� That was not
helpful, but at least they had found one of the wizards.

�Bring him here.� He knows where
that school is, and he will tell us whether he wants to or not.�

There was a pause on the other end.�
�Sir, it�s Lucius Malfoy.�

�Is that supposed to mean something to me?�

�It means something to the wizards.�
They say he won�t crack easily.�

�You leave that to me, Ritter,� Edward said.

�Yes, sir.�

The phone went dead.� Edward
smiled as he listened to the dial tone.�

Warrick was nervous.� Always nervous.

�Why must we involve the Muggles?� he asked
for what was probably the hundredth time.�
�They make too many mistakes.�

�We�ve been over this,� Prometheus said in a bored tone.� �They are the only ones who can disperse the
potion on a scale large enough to neutralize our competition.�

�They will turn on us.�

�Probably, but we�ll be one step ahead of them.�

�They are not stupid,� Warrick said, exasperated.� �I�m sure they know what we�re planning.�

�No, they�re not stupid, but they are hungry for power and desperate to
find a sense of security.� They know it�s
risky but have obviously judged it�worth the risk.� They think they will be able to control
us.�� A smug smile played across the
wizard�s lined face.

�We�re getting ahead of ourselves, Prometheus.� What if Malfoy
tells us nothing?�� Warrick contemplated
their prisoner, who was too pale and still for his comfort.� A dead prisoner would be useless, yet
Prometheus had forbidden anyone to heal him beyond what was necessary to keep
him alive.� It was true that pain
loosened the tongue, but Malfoy was no stranger to
pain or the pressure of interrogation by those vastly more intimidating than
Prometheus.� But at least he had stopped
bleeding.

�He�ll tell us what we want to know,� Prometheus said confidently, his
eyes following Warrick�s.

�You aren�t going to let that Nugent man try to get it out of him, are
you?� In this state, he�ll kill him.�

�Oh, he�ll go to Nugent, but not until we�re finished with him.� And we�ll get the information the easy way.�

�Veritaserum?�

Prometheus nodded.� �I have no
time for conventional torture.� Malfoy can stand up to that.� So you see, Warrick, we will have that
information before the Muggles ever get it.� And Mr. Malfoy here
will probably succumb to his injuries after Nugent�s done with him�thus
stopping him from warning his compatriots.�
We have the werewolf, the formula, and we produce it on our own terms.� Then all that is left is for the Muggle military to do our bidding.�

Warrick nodded, apparently satisfied.�
His anxiety was vexing at times, and Prometheus was glad that he had
managed to quiet him.� Prometheus stood
and walked away.� He needed to read it
again.

The book was old, yellowing, close to falling apart.� Only dozens of conservation charms had kept
it intact.� The handwriting within was
thick and bold, slashing across the thin pages in lines that slanted downward.

Today our pursuit
yielded a prize beyond any we have found in months.� We came upon Baltasar
hiding in the mountains near Delphi.� The townsfolk attempted to protect him and
were thus slaughtered for their trouble.�
Once captive Baltasar proved stubborn, only
speaking after we�d put out his eye.� But
he spoke only to curse us and said no more in spite of the loss of his other
eye and a number of fingers.� We
determined after some rigorous and bloody persuasion that Baltasar
truly knew nothing; his memory of the formula had been erased.� He did, however, know where Ambrose had been
hiding.� We extracted this from him,
along with his small intestine.� Upon his
cooperation we ended his suffering, though he was near enough his end
anyhow.� We move now to strike in Thessaloniki, where Ambrose has been
living quietly, hoping we will not find him.

Prometheus turned the page.� He
knew these were the words of a madman, a person obsessed beyond all reason, and
that he himself was becoming far too familiar with the all-consuming desire.

Ambrose is not
here.� We have scoured Thessaloniki,
randomly interrogated its citizens, even executed a
dozen of them in the hopes of breaking the silence.� They will not speak.� They will not tell us where he is.

Here there was a gap of nearly a month where the diary�s mad author had
not written.� But his words were
terrifying when they resumed.

I have begun a new
campaign to draw Ambrose out.� Today we
attacked the Accademia di Magia in Rome.� I took ten students hostage, ranging from
mere babes to boys on the brink of manhood.�
I announced to the people that if Ambrose did not come forward, I would
kill each and every one of them.� Six are
now dead.� No Ambrose.� My patience is nearly expended, but I know he
will not be able to bear the murder of children.� I will kill them until he comes to stop me.� And he will come.

From that point on, there were only notations.

Durmstrang, Prague.
10 boys.

Majestad, Valencia.� 4 boys, 6 girls.

Dos
Santos Escola para Bruxas, Lisbon.� 13 girls.

Magische Serre, Amsterdam. 8 boys.

Beauxbatons, Rouen.
7 girls, 1 woman.

Academy of Divination,
Troy. 12.

Hecate Institute, Athens.
39.� Beneath that there was a small notation.� I will execute the entire school if I have
to.� I know he is still in Greece,
and the guilt is eating him alive.

And it must have been, for the next entry was viciously jubilant.

He has come.� He has surrendered.� He claims that he will never tell me
anything, that he has erased his own memory of the formula, but I know he is lying.� I will draw it
out of him.� There will be no kind death
for him like there was for Baltasar.� Ambrose and his secret are mine.

Prometheus closed the book.�
There were no more entries.� He
knew that Acheron had not succeeded.�
Ambrose truly had erased his own memory of the formula and Acheron�s
bloody campaign through Europe�s magic schools
had been for nothing.� The people were
tired of his brutality, sympathetic with Ambrose, and ready to be done with the
burgeoning conflict.� When wizards and
witches chose to unite, their power and direction was undeniable.� In three days, Acheron and his regime had been
utterly wiped out of Athens, their operatives
tracked down throughout Europe, and their
malignant mission snuffed out.� Baltasar and Ambrose were dead, too, so it was assumed that
the secret had gone with them.

Prometheus sighed.� They had not
known back then that Ambrose had imparted that secret on someone.� They had not known that somewhere out there
was a twelve-year-old werewolf, preserved for two thousand years, with the
formula in her head.� Time (and the
effort of Ambrose and Baltasar) had erased all
records of their school; no one knew where it was except that it was in Greece.� That was why, when this cave-in revealing the
school in Greece
occurred, the Greek Ministry had kept its location quiet � they had a long
memory.� Only those who were at the site
knew where it was, and they were kept in the dark until entering Greece.� It seemed like normal security, but
Prometheus knew better.

So no one knew its location, exactly.�
No one, that was, except Lucius Malfoy.� And when he
regained consciousness, he would talk.�
Oh yes, he would talk.

Hi all, sorry for long, long
delay in getting this out.� Something
about working 65 hours a week really wears you out!� Since last September I�ve been working two
jobs and saving money for graduate school.�
My labor paid off and I�ll soon be going for my master�s degree.� I know it will be hard work but hopefully
less so than what I�ve been doing this year!�
In the time that went by I lost sight of what I had originally planned
for this story, but I have gotten it back and then some.� If grad school does not prove too ridiculous
I can hopefully regain some kind of normal schedule with this story and others,
but I make no promises since I�m not there yet.�
Please show your support and let me know that you�re still reading (or
reading for the first time!).�
Thanks!�� ~FlowersBecomeScreens
- 14
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Amphitrite