Ch. 22

While Moggley references to magick in their fiction can be quaint, they are increasingly indistinguishable from the real thing. Whether this is some form of convergent cultural memetic evolution, or something more sinister, bears immediate investigation.

Excerpt from un[classified] memorandum from MI[classified], 19[classified].

Horry sits on a hay bale, watching the castle for a time, sipping tea. He watches tours of the different houses of first years make their rounds of the castle, as well as a subtly different sports demonstration every hour or so—a couple of Chogbort's team members look to be practicing on the pitch in the downtime.

Horry looks down into his glass, into the reflection of his face in the tea-cup—it's turbulent, and distorted by rings of vibration from light winds, but it's still there. His scarred face.

He tries to imagine the chain of events that would lead to him attacking Alvin—to attacking a younger self. What could a younger him even have that an older him would want? Why would he fall in with the same people that allegedly went after his parents, and caused so much destruction? Why had Blue eye been so angry?

He frowns, and swings his legs in frustrated half-arcs off the hay bale—a knot of frustration stewing in his gut. He takes another sip, and looks up at the castle, trying to find the spot he'd fallen off earlier.

That's when he sees them.

At first, he isn't sure. It looks like a pair of red-headed dots, stopping every foot or so to pause and do something, and then proceeding. Then he sees another pair—on another parapet. And when he pauses to actually take in the castle—to really look at it, he sees at least six other pairs on different portions of the roof of the castle, only visible because of the distance between Horry and the castle.

"Horbid!" Horry calls out.

A small crash in the hut, "Aye, what is it lad?"

"What's the fastest way to the castle roof?"

Horry pokes his head out of a hatch. Looking over the edge of the platform, he immediately spots two red bowls of unruly hair. They seem to be casting spells individually on almost every brick of the top parapets of the tower.

"Hey!"

They both freeze. One looks up, "Ah, hello there…friend?"

"I'd like to offer a deal!"

The other looks up, "Who is that?"

"You aren't the Patter kid are you?"

"Horry Patter?"

"Couldn't be."

"Unless he has the scar?"

"Looks like he might have the scar."

"Hard to tell, what with the back-lighting."

"Isn't he Moggley, though?"

"You guys took my time-twistor!" says Horry.

The twins freeze again.

"Ahhh, unlikely, friend. Perhaps you,"

"took our time-twistor?"

One of them reveals a sphere.

"You don't…we met like an hour ago! And you stole it!"

They freeze a third time, "Uh oh," says one of them.

"Looks like you got caught up in our wake, friend. Apologies,"

"Worth it, though! In the end, it'll be grand,"

"Is that why there's like twelve of you on the roof?"

"Oh, you saw us? That's encouraging!"

"Probably means McGloggles hasn't caught on yet. Or ever,"

The other one snorts a laugh. They pause, "What did you want again?"

"A deal! Well…sort of a deal? I'll forgive you for, uh, stealing my time-twistor in the, uh, future if you let me use it to send, uh, before-me back in time in a couple hours."

"Send yourself back in time?"

"Ahh, he's tryin' to resolve a loop!"

"Fool's errand, friend."

"I just…I just need to use it once! And you guys steal it back almost immediately anyway!"

"Hmmm…dangerous work, that."

"Indeed, but…could it be part of The Plan?"

"Possibly, would need insurance. And assurance,"

"Assurance and prudence,"

"Prudence and professionalism,"

"Professionalism and permission,"

Horry's lost.

"Horry, on our honor as gentlemen, we will allow you usage of the sphere, in exchange for services rendered to us at a later or perhaps earlier date,"

"Um…okay?"

"Excellent!" the sphere flies out of their hands and boops Horry on the nose.

The world stops spinning, and it's a bit colder—light dew covers everything in sight. Morning, possibly?

Horry groans. He sits up, but nearly falls over when he sees himself on the far side of the platform, watching the train approach. At least he has the sphere?

He slides back down into the parapet compartment, and immediately comes face-to-face with the twins, again.

"Sorry 'bout that, Horry."

"Had to take you off the board for a bit,"

"But we have your sphere!"

They hold up the sphere with the note attached.

Horry's fighting a strong desire to scream, but also relief at finally seeming to resolve things, even if it means sitting around, doing nothing for several hours. He holds out the sphere that bonked his nose.

"Great!" they say, and it flies out of his hand into theirs. They disappear in a whoosh.

This time, he does scream.

The one positive thing to come from Horry's nearly-twenty-hour-day-thus-far is a new-found familiarity with the castle's geography. It's a strange mixture of intuitive-sense, and mind-breaking geometry. Nothing can be visualized per se, because the interior is absolutely not-space conserving, or even physically possible. But there are thoroughfares that seem more permanent than others, and when changes occur, the changes propagate with a twisted sort of logic.

The common rooms for example: each had lined up for the student's first walk into the castle for Searching. But it wasn't just the rooms that rotated into place, it was entire hallways—even sections of hallway. Portraiture, too. These architectural primitives are then glued together by variable-length stretches of suits of animated armor and portraits of different nature scenes which might never be the same. But this is hard to verify without taking pictures. Horry makes a mental note.

Rooms that expand and contract to fit occupancy needs, like the Great Hall, are particularly tricky, because some entrances and exits only exist when they're full. Thankfully, when the Great Hall is nearly packed, it isn't too hard to find a way up to the upper balconies—which usually don't even exist.

Thus, Horry sits, dangling his legs between struts of a handrail—forehead pressed onto the balcony—as he watches his fateful Searching.

"This boy…does not have a soul."

A twist—a pain. The silence is deafening. Alvin explodes in violent blue magic through the roof. Shortly thereafter, another Professor banishes past-him with a strange cage-spell. Alvin returns—words are spoken, but Horry's not really focused on them anymore.

The whole timbre of the room changes afterwards—like lights aren't shining as bright, voices hushed, air stuffy—like everything is simply less magickal. He already knows how it all resolves, and it's still painful.

Not that it's really resolved. More like—diffused? He pushes the thought away.

The Searching ends, with the very last student entering the new house. Jogelsnoorlb? Strange. Students start to file out, and the room contracts. Horry slinks out of a rapidly shrinking door, and considers his options.

He probably hasn't been found, well, Not Guilty of being a Moggley or whatever it is that happened in the dungeon yet. Most of the faculty were down there, it seemed, so he probably wouldn't find anyone useful for a while.

Horry wanders the halls for a short while, trying to avoid too much attention. Eventually, he finds himself in front of the Headmaster's Portal—empty still. Without many other options, still somewhat terrified by the magickal ramifications of time travel, and increasingly exhausted, Horry sits in a chair by the portal-entrance.

He tracks one portrait-occupant frantically running around a woodland area, spread across twelve or so portraits on the wall in front of him. Occasionally, the fellow approaches the 'eye' of the portrait, so to speak, and looks into it—brow furrowed in confusion and worry, like he's looking for something in the real non-portrait world. But then, he'll flee, terrified, back into the woods to continue his search, or whatever it is he's doing.

It's really quite terribly unsettling.

Voices echo down the hall. Finally, Alvin, a business-y looking fellow, and the Minister from earlier approach the portal entrance.

"—not acceptable. A house can't have one student Alvin!"

"Every House starts small, Dietrich. Besides, I am bound by ancient laws and customs of the Castle,"

"We both know you can change those, Alvin!"

The men all stop when they spot Horry.

"Ah, Horry," Alvin pauses, "weren't you…ah. I see," he turns to the men, "one moment, gentlemen,"

"Come with me, Horry," and he strides through the portal. Horry stands, half smiles at the furious-looking old men, and follows Alvin. Everything feels like it's squeezed through a pinhole, and he lands hard in a vast, well-lit room, filled with buzzing trinkets.

"Long day, Horry?" Alvin muses, sitting in his chair.

"I…uhm, yes. I was doing an, uhh, experiment. A couple hours from now. Somehow, I arranged to have myself sent back in time. And, uhm, then it kept getting worse from there,"

"How many times?"

"Three so far…I think?"

"Hmm," Alvin nods, continuing to rummage in his cabinet, "Chronomancy experiments on your first day. Quite dangerous! Though I suppose you couldn't have known that," he pauses, and frowns.

"Horry, I don't want you to be frightened, but I'm going to use my Eye for a moment, if that's alright with you?"

"Oh, um, yes sir,"

Alvin's eye builds up in a slow blue glow—not as brilliant as before—but intense enough to bathe the room in the cerulean light. Alvin looks around, left, right—up and down—nodding, shaking his head. Then he laughs, and he mumbles "chronus deus machoculari". The blue glow fades. Horry fails to suppress a shiver.

"I will need to have a conversation with Freb and Geordie it seems," he smiles—genuinely. He lifts a sphere from a drawer in his desk and twists it several times. Then he rolls it to Horry. He rummages in another drawer for a small rectangular tag, twine, and a pen, and slides all three across the desk.

"I believe that should resolve things,"

"Wait…but how did…how did all of this start if the reason I'm getting the sphere now is because I already had the…" Horry trails off.

"It would be quite difficult to say," he says, laughing softly to himself.

"Oh..kay. Thank you, um, can I—,"

"Tap it once and throw. Any target that has agreed will be sent back in time seven or so hours,"

"Oh. Right. Perfect. Can I jump forwards in time a bit? I'm…uh, getting quite tired,"

"Oh, of course, maybe until thirty or so minutes before?"

"Yes, that would be…that would be great."

Alvin turns around and rummages in a cabinet. He turns back around holding something that looks very much like a mechanical ice cream scoop.

"Oh, uhm, and Alvin…"

"Yes Horry?"

"How did you figure out how to prevent the whole world from making anti-matter?"

Alvin pauses, thinks for a beat, then, "Let's just say that every world where I didn't figure it out no longer exists," he smiles, grimly. "Ready?"

"Y..yeah," says Horry, and Alvin squeezes the scoop.

The world stops spinning, and the office is empty. Horry takes a deep breath, turns, and exits out the portal, towards the common room.