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Magic Knows No Boundaries Chapter 33
🕑 Added 2023-06-06 02:51:01 +0000 UTCChapter 33:
The Sword in the Stone
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The unlikely trio breached the water's surface and they were deposited on cold, hard stone.
"Thank you, beautiful." Tom said to the rainbow serpent between coughs and sputters for the long swim through her watery tunnels.
He hadn't even said it in parseltongue, but she nodded in understanding all the same.
He picked himself up off the floor and helped Walburga do the same. With that done he cast a drying charm on her then himself. Inside of the Olga they were free from the influence of the black stones and thus it was safe to do magic again. And they were now past all of the protections Tom expected anybody to be capable of getting past.
Without the ability to cast the bubble head charm outside from the black stones nobody could manage that swim unless they'd thought to bring gillyweed along. And even if they had gillyweed, they'd have to swim through the underwater tunnels and do so without getting murdered to death by his colorful friend. Still, more protections awaited.
Walburga gasped as her eyes adjusted to the giant underground snake den.
"Is it expanded?" She asked.
"Yes. By a lot." Tom said.
It was a deliberately weak expansion charm too. One designed to collapse if any of the traps are triggered.
Tom had gotten the idea from alchemy, the simplest technique of which is to compress elements into higher elements with spatial expansion charms. Take a small space, like the inside of a jar, and expand it to twice the size. Fill it to the brim with Aluminum then simply collapse the space expanding charm and the two parts of aluminum will combine into roughly one part of iron... with a WHOLE lot of radiation as a byproduct. Most early alchemists simply killed themselves from radiation poisoning with the first experiment doing this, later ones wizened up and stood away from containers used for this job but still died of radiation over time because they had no concept of radiation.
Unfortunately, the technique only worked for elements with a positive proton count, so you can't use it to create copper, silver or gold. That could still be done by first creating higher, trans uranium elements and letting them decay to the elements you want, which is a complicated alchemical art requiring decades of experiment and trial and error - usually using time slowing containment wards to examine these elements before they decay. That was time Voldemort simply didn't have. The primary ingredient for the sorcerer's stone is merely whatever element lies in that mysterious island of stability at the end of the possible periodic table.
It makes sense if you think about the symbology, and thus, magical applications for such a material.
It did confuse the crap out of Muggle archeologists whenever they found ancients cities or towns of people fallen dead in the streets with more background radiation than Chernobyl though. That could happen when a particularly zealous alchemist tried to transmute literal metric tons of lead into similarly large quantities of element one hundred and sixty-four. Big risk to the statute of secrecy that wizard archeologists work tirelessly to find before Muggle ones do. Such sites are then, sadly, destroyed.
The space expanding wards within this Olga were not strong enough to cause transmutation of elements, but it was designed to collapse under certain circumstances. Pop quiz! What happens to the human body when the air pressure of the closed space they're in suddenly multiplies one hundred-fold? That image in your mind right now? That's about right.
"That looks a little vulnerable, just out in the open like that." Walburga commented, pointing to the center of the wide-open space.
Tom looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, his horcrux was exactly where he had left it. Embedded into a singular black stone, imported from its many siblings outside, was the sword of Godric Gryffindor.
"That's by design. Mind your step." Tom instructed her "On second though, remain here with our lovely friend."
Tom patted the rainbow serpent before walking towards the center of the room.
He reached the edge of where the traps began and, with a wave of his wand, blew away all of the dust covering each tile. With another wave of his wand he shot a lumos orb to the ceiling illuminating the entire room. Makes it much easier to read.
"so it's password protected, but with stone tiles?" Walburga asked. "Does each one have to be activated in a passcode?"
"Right in one Walburga!" Tom said with a smirk in her direction.
"Are they double encoded to be activated by charms and curses cast on them?" Walburga asked further.
Damn. That was actually a good idea. He could have programmed them for really obscure spells too.
"Nope, just with a bit of dexterity." Tom told her before turning back around and looking for the correct letter. "Let's see here.. I!"
He spotted the ninth letter of the alphabet and hopped on over. He heard Walburga groaned from behind him.
"Next is E!" Tom said as he leapt to the next later.
"Really Tom?!" Walburga demanded.
"S! And yup. Really!" Tom concluded as he made his third leap.
"Indianna Jones?! Are you a child?!" Walburga yelled after him.
"Only at heart, love. E!" Tom told her as he finished. "And another S. What does that spell?!"
Walburga groaned again instead of answering. As she did so every crack around the lettered tiles made a soft glow before turning white. It was now safe to walk on them.
"Didn't have space or mechanical knowhow for the buzzsaws, ditto for the invisible bridge." Tom said cheekily. "It's safe to come over here now, you won't have to watch your step."
She did so, walking over to him with her arms crossed and in quite a fuss. Why must ladies begrudge men their fun?
"How did you design it to be pulled out?" Walburga asked as she stood in front of the legendary artifact. "Passphrase? Fingerprint recognition? Does it need Veela blood since Excalibur was made by them?"
"None of the above, Walburga." Tom told her. "I embedded it into the rock with a banishing charm so hard that the stone melted around it and fused to it. The only way to get it out is to outright carry the sword, rock and all, out of here. Or else somehow shatter the rock."
Walburga actually looked him up and down with an unimpressed expression at his explanation.
"You're not going to take it out of here?" She asked.
"Not today." Tom told her. "Today I just came here to touch it. I ought to be out of commission for a few hours afterwards, so be warned."
"And what? I'm just supposed to stand around here while you do that?" Walburga demanded.
"I brought snacks and a few books in the pack. Help yourself." Tom told her with a shrug. "And you can use magic over there, we can't over here. At least not safely. But I would recommend not using magic at all out of fear of triggering the space expansion charm to collapse."
It was true, so close to the cursed, black stone any spell he cast risked spiraling out of control and triggering the space expansion warn to collapse, killing them both... which would likely destroying the rock containing Gryffindor's sword. In hindsight, he probably just should have sent in a conjured animal and had them do exactly that then jsut walked in and picked it up. How had he missed such a blatant hole in is defenses? They really were otherwise perfect.
If anybody had managed to deduce it was there, they would have had to get through the stone hills, swam up to thirty minutes through the underwater tunnels without the bubblehead charm or getting killed by his rainbow serpent friend, deduced that the space expansion charm was designed to collapse, then they could have easily figured out this little oversight. So, his cleverness in putting in a Muggle reference no wizard would understand would have gone unappreciated.
He was still trying to hide his surprise at Walburga having seen it herself. He refused to ask her about it.
"Alright. No time like the present. Please don't slit my throat while I'm unconscious." Tom asked jokingly.
"And be stuck in this death trap with your snake friend? Not a chance." Walburga joked back.
"Oh, and please move my body away from the stone. I don't like the prospect of waking up from a nap next to it." Tom asked further.
"Stop stalling. The sooner you drop the sooner I can leave." She demanded.
Tom shrugged and sat down on the ground just next to the stone. He took a deep breath and concentrated. He remembered the Fabian brothers, who had fought bravely and in doing so brought unto him the Sword of Gryffindor. Their deaths had been tragic enough to warrant splitting even his tattered soul by then. He had regretted killing such brilliant young men even the day of that battle over such an inconsequential safehouse.
With those thoughts firmly in mind, he pressed a single finger against the flat of the silver blade, just below the G. Then, blackness.
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Harry stared out over the sand dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see.
He turned back to the goblin liaison he had hired to show him all of the properties for sale in his price range. She was a younger lady goblin by the name of Finnaglespeck. And yes, this was a weird name even for goblins.
"I know I told you I needed a plot with poor soil that is well draining, but I also said it needed partial sun and low winds. This is the opposite of those last two." Harry said over the wind. "And I need access to water, even salt water will do. I can easily purify it for the aconite."
She checked this one off of the long list in his clipboard and held out the rope they had used to portkey there. It was a goblin portkey and worked different to wizards. Harry didn't know how to make them, but they were impressive. Able to jump to multiple locations, each location having a lightning-rod like device that was clearly designed to be the arrival point for the portkey.
It still didn't leave him feeling great, and he slammed to the ground face first after each jump, but it didn't leave his head feeling like it was made of honey and vinegar.
When he landed at the next place he still felt fine, goblin travel being far more comfortable than the wizard way.
The next place was, at least, well shaded. The duo found themselves on a surprisingly flat outcropping carved into the cliffs of a valley. Unfortunately, the ground was rock. Just, rock. Couldn't grow anything there even with magic. And on and on their dance went. If they were traveling by normal portkey Harry would have suspected the goblin was trying to wear him out into making an impulse purchase for a subpar plot of land.
Harry was shown lovely beachfront land, covered in sand and windier than space between Ron's ears when Fleur is around. he was shown an ice capped spot in the Nubian mountains, which looked like a lovely place for a cottage, but he wasn't here for personal property.
It was around this point that he realized the portkey must have been preprogrammed to go to all of these locations in order, based on his price range, before he had explained his additional requirements and that the nice, but strangely silent, godliness was just giving him a few moments or minutes to appreciate each one and catch his bearings between each jump. Even still he was starting to feel the same effects of a normal portkey after a while. The dizziness and oncoming headache, to say nothing of the nausia, was starting to get to him.
Thankfully, the next trip by portkey would be his last before he could appirate back to Cairo, for it turned out to be a jackpot. They arrived near another beach but more inland, with the Mediterranean visible over the sheer drop of a cliff. The salty breeze was mild enough to just take the edge off of the desert heat. On both sides of the brush covered earth before him were rows of trees being farmed. He recognized them as dates and fig trees.
"Where are we?" He asked.
"Kafret el Tawarsa, Egypt." She said.
So they'd jumped along all of the nations bordering Egypt, only to return for the perfect spot.
"The soil isn't bad at all." He commented, noting the many desert shrubs peaking out through the surface and the obviously well fed and watered fruit trees. "Are you certain this is in my price range?"
Nearly beachfront farming property? It was a retiree's wet dream.
"The neighboring farms are all Muggle and make magical development a near impossibility." The gobliness said boredly. "Any development you do here will have to be done the Muggle way due to Egyptian policies for maintaining the Statute of Secrecy."
Ah. That made sense. Wizards didn't like getting callouses. But he knew of a whole lot of people stuck in the wizarding world unable to use wands that were more than accustomed to such work and in need of a place to live. formerly-Muggle werewolves would be delighted at the job, especially with the pay, room and board he was already calculating the cost of in his head. The added bonus of taking part in the growing of the most important ingredient for the potion that would maintain their humanity was just the cherry on top.
"It's perfect. Fresh water readily available? he asked, covering his bases.
He already knew the answer based on the state of the nearby farms, but it was good to cover his bases.
"Piped water from the desalination plant cuts right through the property under the dirt road just over there." She told him, pointing towards the beach. "You could have showers and an irrigation system setup for your farm in as little as a week, after your workers got here."
Hmm. He'd have to schedule a water tank filled and delivered ahead of time so the workers wouldn't have to hike down to the beach for a morning rinse in salt-water every day. Better schedule to have two, actually. Adn a whole lot of canopies for shade.
"I'll take it. Meet me back in Akhetaten for the paperwork, I would prefer to apparate back myself than continue with the preprogrammed portkey if it's all the same to you." Harry said cheerily.
Concentrating on the front flaps of the liaison office in question he passed through that rubber tube sensation and left the nice, cool beach behind.
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Harry exited the small building a few hours later as evening was fast approaching. His arm and wrist were now as sore as his head and stomach from all the goblin portkey travel from the day. And of course, who should be waiting for him in the even shade but Alastor Marchbanks, loaded with bags o books and pamphlets and stone jewelry of strange design.
"I see you were as busy here as I was." Harry said nonchalantly.
"Indeed. Got the chance to talk to wizard priests of the temple of Aten and all the other old Egyptian gods. They have their own outreach program in the great Aten Temple, sharing space." He explained. "They don't get many converts these days."
"Yeah, dead religions and all." Harry said dryly.
"Dead to Muggles, not so dead to wizards. Families tracing their lineage all the way back to the old kingdom still keep their traditions."
"Would love to see them compare to some British purebloods who think their thousand year old lineages are impressive." Harry said jokingly. "Compared to the family trees here with four thousand years of traced lineage."
"Indeed. Yet more ways to get that sense of perspective. Are you stalling in fear of our upcoming portkey?" Marchbanks asked.
Harry groaned. They'd had enough time ahead to schedule a portkey straight out of "Amarna". Which was apparently the official international name of Akhetaten, asi t was much shorter and more memorable. The city allowed portkeys out, just not in.
"Okay. Let's go." Harry groaned.
The walk to the portkey departure tent was too short for Harry's liking. They didn't get much outgoing traffic at all, so the tickets they had purchased ahead of time could be used pretty much whenever. They didn't expire, and they'd never run out of space for an outgoing trip. he had fully expected their trip to take the whole weekend, and had hoped for it. An extra day to recover from the first international portkey before taking another one. No such luck.
"Look on the bright side, at least you'll have a whole day to recover before getting back to work at Hogwarts." Marchbanks consoled. "And unlike me, you don't have church in the morning."
This was true. A lazy Sunday sleeping in was just what the doctor ordered, and seeing as he'd had several hours of time to send a message to the person who would be doting on him for the totality of said lazy Sunday, he fully expected to get back to Hogwarts in a significantly better mood than most Mondays. Not that he disliked his job in the slightest, but he might have after only a nights worth of sleep to recover from the coming trial.
"Destination?" A bored witch standing outside of the tent flaps asked by way of greeting.
"British Ministry of Magic." Harry told her.
"Tickets please." She asked.
Harry handed her both of them ans she tore them in half before throwing their remains in a rubbish bin beside her.
"Grab the rope with the union jack on it and once we get the all-clear message for your arrival platform the portkey will activate automatically." She instructed as she opened the tent flap and waved them through.
Harry bit his tongue to not laugh at the womans dead-inside tone that she had somehow managed to keep throughout the entire experience. It had to have been an act, what with her job being so easy from the complete lack of customers coming through. But as he entered the large tent he realized she had spoken perfect English without a hint of an accent and realized the true misery of her situation.
A natural polyglot with such skill in charms and enchanting as to run a portkey center solo? now that was one bright young witch... and her job had her sitting outside of a tent in the hot Egyptian sun taking tickets, repeating the same instructions and casting the exact same spell on the exact same pieces of rope day in and day out. At the rate she was going he expected her to be a decoration hanging from these rafters with one of those same ropes. He made a mental note to see about stealing her for his sanctuary or else the little flower farm. Even that would have to be an improvement over this.
"Here we are." Marchbanks said as the one rope out of the two hundred with a little British flag stitched onto it. They were all lay slung along a circular metal railing that lined the room.
Marchanks picked it up and held out the other end for Harry. The rope was only a couple meters long, clearly showing that the lack of traffic mean no more than five to ten people ever needed to use a portkey out at one time.
Harry sighed but grabbed the other end from Alastor and waited. And waited. And waited some more.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Every bone was locked. Every hair was raised on end in anticipation of the coming sensation. Even still, when it finally hit him he was not prepared. God, did he ever hate magical transportation or what.
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Next chapter will be ALL Harry and Bella enjoying a nice Saturday evening and Sunday together. I know you all complain about there being too little of that. You've been patient with my worldbuilding and necessary story beats, but even I am itching for some sappiness.
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