TDRP: Harry Potter - Log 5
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xp_logsThe final showdown. Spoiler alert: Marie-Ange gets to stab someone.
"Wait, I remember this part," Alex said, almost excitedly, eyeing the table full of potions. "One of us drinks the tiny potion and goes through and fights the dude with two faces, right?"
"Oh oh oh," Stephen was almost bouncing as his hand shot up into the air like a rocket, "Let me, can I do it? I can totally take the two-faced little guy."
"Yes, by all means, go through the portal of fire." Marie-Ange said dryly. "I suppose we should determine the actual solution to the elementary school level logic puzzle first." She assessed the table, poked at the parchment with the potions knife she'd kept in her hand practically the entire time, and then picked it up. "Oh lovely, this is customized for us too. Legal terms, geology references, electrical engineering, anatomy diagrams and Victorian flower language." She snorted. "And nothing for me, which is just as I like it."
Angelo stepped forward and peered at the parchment. "Taking the legal terms... fructus naturales is about the products of a piece of land, and how they're counted as part of the property, so that's probably a red herring. Fumus boni iurus means if a case is likely to succeed, it's used in judgment of if something gets to go forward, so I'd go for that one."
"Let's see..." Hope joined Angelo, peering at the document as well. "Yew stands for sorrow, just like aloe. So skip those I'd say. White heather is good luck, so that is a promising one... and..." She looked closer at one of the other. "A daisy is innocence and iris means that you have a message.. Wait... Of course! That must be the one. Especially since the golden rod is mentioned just behind it."
The teenager, appeased by the idea of going through the portal stepped up behind the others to stare at the parchment, slowly reaching to grab the potion Hope had indicated, holding it up to the group as the light hit the bottle, sending a disco of coloured lights dancing through the room, illuminating the walls in a dancing pattern. "Are you sure about this? Cause then, here we go."
"I am beginning to come around to my cousin's view of how ridiculous this all is," Jean-Phillipe observed. "What does electrical theory even have to do with alchemy?" Still, he dutifully examined the parchment, calling to mind Erik's stern lesson-planning on the subject. "Capacitors...inductors...a positive feedback circuit? That is not at all a good idea - positive feedback just amplifies an output until it reaches its limit." And applying that concept to fire sounded like the sort of thing that would lead to poor outcome. "So we can eliminate that one," he said, pointing confidently at one of the draughts.
"Lovely, yes. Fruit, not exploding the fire, pretty colors...oh, that one is wine, I did get a clue for me." She plucked one of the bottles off the table and sniffed at it. "Terrible dandelion wine, I am going to poison Snape just for this, it has gone off." Marie-Ange waved a hand negligently at Stephen. "Off you go, Mister Potter, do not forget to destroy all the horcruxes."
The teenager snapped a jaunty salute at the woman, an outward show of bravado he wasn't quite sure he felt inside. Everything about this world seemed real, and so if that was true then the man waiting for him on the other side wasn't a walkover, but then it wouldn't be fun if he was now would it?
Stephen found his eyes drifting down to the liquid in his hand, swirling the bottle thoughtfully as the liquid caught the light. Lifting the bottle to his lips the teenager took a deep breath and shuddered as he took a sip...and then took a deep gulp. To be fair, it didn't taste half as bad as he'd feared it might. In fact, he felt all tingly. Grasping his wand in one hand the mage took one, two steps forward before throwing himself at the flames, staggering through it to wave at the man waiting on the other side. "Hi, my name's Stephen and I'm...ouch that's not very nice." He hadn't even finished talking before the man in the turban had sent a spell flying his way, leaving the boy sprawled out on the ground to avoid it.
"That was mean," as he spoke Stephen replied with a spell of his own, the planks on the floor curling up to wrap around the man's legs as the teenager rolled along the floor to avoid the retaliating spell, bouncing to his feet with a flourish of his wand, a rope of fire lashing out at Quirrel who deflected the attack into the ground. "Ha, touche, but can you do this." As he spoke the boy flicked his wand, a red spell from Quirrel dying against a wall off wooden planks.
"I say, that's no way to treat a teacher. I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." "Oh, just shut up and kill the boy." The second voice seemed to come from the back of the man's head, as he flicked his wand a green spell flying out shattering the wall, sending Stephen dancing for cover, flicking his wand at the splinters to send them flying at Quirrel. "Hey! No killing spells, that's not cricket...I've always wanted to say that."
The remaining mutants could see the flash of spells through the flames as the pair dueled, and as the noises grew louder, Marie-Ange began shuffling the pack of cards she'd found in her pocket.
Tower, reversed. Destruction.
Tower, reversed. Destruction.
The Devil. Eight of Cups.
Every card spoke death, destruction and loss.
She grimaced, and with a gesture born out of old deep habit, dug the heel of her hand into her eye - the startling blue eye that was out of place on her face, that no one had mentioned and that her cousin had met - and that she could still not see out of, not truly. All the strange blue eye had given her was shadows around her friends and teammates, and the shadow that she could see just through the flames that was Stephen Strange was growing darker and more still.
She spat out a phrase in a language she only shared with Angelo, that he would recognize as a curse against lying two-faced mages, and pulled out the wand she had refused to use the entire day.
Her cousin had remembered Crucio, the spell that so resembled his own electrical powers.
She remembered another spell, that cast solid forms of light and emotion, and Marie-Ange lost herself in memory.
Damp swampy air, hot and humid around her bare feet, jazz music in the air, half a dozen pick up bands whose songs should have clashed and did not, and spicy smells of jambalaya and seafood and grilled meat. A party, for her and her team, in a city they had saved. Her injuries from the bullet meant for Remy LeBeau healed, leaving just pink-white scarring. Doug, unscarred, grinning, running across a street to find her. Amanda - her best friend laughing as they danced in the street, blonde hair curling around her neck, the city's delight at being whole and safe fueling the witch. Remy's eyes, red on black, free of shadow for the first and only time, for just a few moments.
The wand slashed a line, and Marie-Ange yelled out the spell before the decade of everything after that day came down to ruin it, and a luminescent white raven thrice the size of any other swept from her wand. The bird took a direct route to the duel, as the crow flies and the ancient stone wall deep in the heart of Hogwarts came down in a heap of rubble.
"The chosssssen one," hissed a sibilant voice from the back of Quirrel's head - the remnants of Voldemort. "I value bravery - but not foolishness. Save your own life...and join me..." Finally, though, Quirrel's head turned enough so that the parasitic wizard attached to him could see Stephen. "You...you are not Potter...and yet, there is something about you. You are still chosen - marked for greatness." As another spell flashed across the room, his face twisted and he cursed shrilly. "Kill them. KILL THEM ALL, YOU IMBECILE!"
"Oh, shut up." Marie-Ange demanded. Later she would regret not giving Voldemort a piece of her mind, just out of literary outrage - he really was a poorly written villain and his plans made no sense.
But Stephen's wand was halfway across the room, Voldemort - or Quirrel - Quirrelmort, she decided - had his pointed at him, and she only knew two spells. She knew it - one to create the only version of her images that existed in this children's book world, and the other...
"Accio spear."
Her wand barely moved, and the spell was a whisper.
It was not quite Gungnir - Odin's spear - this was sized for a child - but it was long, and sharp, and Quirrelmort had no time to even consider the little pigtailed redhead as a threat before it was buried in his inner thigh, and his blood was pouring out on the floor.
Alex suddenly felt a lot less guilty about the troll. "Holy shit." He looked around. "So uh.... can we go home now?"
Stephen glanced between the body of Quirrel and his wand which had been thrown to the other side of the room as he pushed himself to his feet, hands brushing down his clothes as he nodded at Alex, "Yeah, home sound pretty good right about now."
Hope blinked at Marie-Ange and at the dead Quirrelmort on the floor. "You know what? In many ways this ending is a lot more satisfying then the ending in the books." Walking over, she poked the creature with her feet. "Looks like he is truly gone. Can we get out now?"
"How -do- we get out, anyway?" Jean-Phillipe cocked his head. "But yes, I would like to not be here anymore."
"Seconded", Angelo agreed. "But I don't know how. Do we need to do something with the stone?"
"If Dumbledore did enchant the mirror identically from the novels..." Marie-Ange walked over to the mirror and studied it, seemingly staring down her own reflection. "Well, that is the same, at least for me. Someone who does not want the thing has to take it. I would be too tempted to create a room of gold and use it to fix everything stupid about the Wizarding government" She paused. "Or we could just blow up the mirror, it is a vile item and I am strongly considering adding Dumbledore to my murder list."
The mirror spat out a red glimmering stone, and she bent to pick it up. "I think the rock likes him less than I do."
"Wait, I remember this part," Alex said, almost excitedly, eyeing the table full of potions. "One of us drinks the tiny potion and goes through and fights the dude with two faces, right?"
"Oh oh oh," Stephen was almost bouncing as his hand shot up into the air like a rocket, "Let me, can I do it? I can totally take the two-faced little guy."
"Yes, by all means, go through the portal of fire." Marie-Ange said dryly. "I suppose we should determine the actual solution to the elementary school level logic puzzle first." She assessed the table, poked at the parchment with the potions knife she'd kept in her hand practically the entire time, and then picked it up. "Oh lovely, this is customized for us too. Legal terms, geology references, electrical engineering, anatomy diagrams and Victorian flower language." She snorted. "And nothing for me, which is just as I like it."
Angelo stepped forward and peered at the parchment. "Taking the legal terms... fructus naturales is about the products of a piece of land, and how they're counted as part of the property, so that's probably a red herring. Fumus boni iurus means if a case is likely to succeed, it's used in judgment of if something gets to go forward, so I'd go for that one."
"Let's see..." Hope joined Angelo, peering at the document as well. "Yew stands for sorrow, just like aloe. So skip those I'd say. White heather is good luck, so that is a promising one... and..." She looked closer at one of the other. "A daisy is innocence and iris means that you have a message.. Wait... Of course! That must be the one. Especially since the golden rod is mentioned just behind it."
The teenager, appeased by the idea of going through the portal stepped up behind the others to stare at the parchment, slowly reaching to grab the potion Hope had indicated, holding it up to the group as the light hit the bottle, sending a disco of coloured lights dancing through the room, illuminating the walls in a dancing pattern. "Are you sure about this? Cause then, here we go."
"I am beginning to come around to my cousin's view of how ridiculous this all is," Jean-Phillipe observed. "What does electrical theory even have to do with alchemy?" Still, he dutifully examined the parchment, calling to mind Erik's stern lesson-planning on the subject. "Capacitors...inductors...a positive feedback circuit? That is not at all a good idea - positive feedback just amplifies an output until it reaches its limit." And applying that concept to fire sounded like the sort of thing that would lead to poor outcome. "So we can eliminate that one," he said, pointing confidently at one of the draughts.
"Lovely, yes. Fruit, not exploding the fire, pretty colors...oh, that one is wine, I did get a clue for me." She plucked one of the bottles off the table and sniffed at it. "Terrible dandelion wine, I am going to poison Snape just for this, it has gone off." Marie-Ange waved a hand negligently at Stephen. "Off you go, Mister Potter, do not forget to destroy all the horcruxes."
The teenager snapped a jaunty salute at the woman, an outward show of bravado he wasn't quite sure he felt inside. Everything about this world seemed real, and so if that was true then the man waiting for him on the other side wasn't a walkover, but then it wouldn't be fun if he was now would it?
Stephen found his eyes drifting down to the liquid in his hand, swirling the bottle thoughtfully as the liquid caught the light. Lifting the bottle to his lips the teenager took a deep breath and shuddered as he took a sip...and then took a deep gulp. To be fair, it didn't taste half as bad as he'd feared it might. In fact, he felt all tingly. Grasping his wand in one hand the mage took one, two steps forward before throwing himself at the flames, staggering through it to wave at the man waiting on the other side. "Hi, my name's Stephen and I'm...ouch that's not very nice." He hadn't even finished talking before the man in the turban had sent a spell flying his way, leaving the boy sprawled out on the ground to avoid it.
"That was mean," as he spoke Stephen replied with a spell of his own, the planks on the floor curling up to wrap around the man's legs as the teenager rolled along the floor to avoid the retaliating spell, bouncing to his feet with a flourish of his wand, a rope of fire lashing out at Quirrel who deflected the attack into the ground. "Ha, touche, but can you do this." As he spoke the boy flicked his wand, a red spell from Quirrel dying against a wall off wooden planks.
"I say, that's no way to treat a teacher. I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." "Oh, just shut up and kill the boy." The second voice seemed to come from the back of the man's head, as he flicked his wand a green spell flying out shattering the wall, sending Stephen dancing for cover, flicking his wand at the splinters to send them flying at Quirrel. "Hey! No killing spells, that's not cricket...I've always wanted to say that."
The remaining mutants could see the flash of spells through the flames as the pair dueled, and as the noises grew louder, Marie-Ange began shuffling the pack of cards she'd found in her pocket.
Tower, reversed. Destruction.
Tower, reversed. Destruction.
The Devil. Eight of Cups.
Every card spoke death, destruction and loss.
She grimaced, and with a gesture born out of old deep habit, dug the heel of her hand into her eye - the startling blue eye that was out of place on her face, that no one had mentioned and that her cousin had met - and that she could still not see out of, not truly. All the strange blue eye had given her was shadows around her friends and teammates, and the shadow that she could see just through the flames that was Stephen Strange was growing darker and more still.
She spat out a phrase in a language she only shared with Angelo, that he would recognize as a curse against lying two-faced mages, and pulled out the wand she had refused to use the entire day.
Her cousin had remembered Crucio, the spell that so resembled his own electrical powers.
She remembered another spell, that cast solid forms of light and emotion, and Marie-Ange lost herself in memory.
Damp swampy air, hot and humid around her bare feet, jazz music in the air, half a dozen pick up bands whose songs should have clashed and did not, and spicy smells of jambalaya and seafood and grilled meat. A party, for her and her team, in a city they had saved. Her injuries from the bullet meant for Remy LeBeau healed, leaving just pink-white scarring. Doug, unscarred, grinning, running across a street to find her. Amanda - her best friend laughing as they danced in the street, blonde hair curling around her neck, the city's delight at being whole and safe fueling the witch. Remy's eyes, red on black, free of shadow for the first and only time, for just a few moments.
The wand slashed a line, and Marie-Ange yelled out the spell before the decade of everything after that day came down to ruin it, and a luminescent white raven thrice the size of any other swept from her wand. The bird took a direct route to the duel, as the crow flies and the ancient stone wall deep in the heart of Hogwarts came down in a heap of rubble.
"The chosssssen one," hissed a sibilant voice from the back of Quirrel's head - the remnants of Voldemort. "I value bravery - but not foolishness. Save your own life...and join me..." Finally, though, Quirrel's head turned enough so that the parasitic wizard attached to him could see Stephen. "You...you are not Potter...and yet, there is something about you. You are still chosen - marked for greatness." As another spell flashed across the room, his face twisted and he cursed shrilly. "Kill them. KILL THEM ALL, YOU IMBECILE!"
"Oh, shut up." Marie-Ange demanded. Later she would regret not giving Voldemort a piece of her mind, just out of literary outrage - he really was a poorly written villain and his plans made no sense.
But Stephen's wand was halfway across the room, Voldemort - or Quirrel - Quirrelmort, she decided - had his pointed at him, and she only knew two spells. She knew it - one to create the only version of her images that existed in this children's book world, and the other...
"Accio spear."
Her wand barely moved, and the spell was a whisper.
It was not quite Gungnir - Odin's spear - this was sized for a child - but it was long, and sharp, and Quirrelmort had no time to even consider the little pigtailed redhead as a threat before it was buried in his inner thigh, and his blood was pouring out on the floor.
Alex suddenly felt a lot less guilty about the troll. "Holy shit." He looked around. "So uh.... can we go home now?"
Stephen glanced between the body of Quirrel and his wand which had been thrown to the other side of the room as he pushed himself to his feet, hands brushing down his clothes as he nodded at Alex, "Yeah, home sound pretty good right about now."
Hope blinked at Marie-Ange and at the dead Quirrelmort on the floor. "You know what? In many ways this ending is a lot more satisfying then the ending in the books." Walking over, she poked the creature with her feet. "Looks like he is truly gone. Can we get out now?"
"How -do- we get out, anyway?" Jean-Phillipe cocked his head. "But yes, I would like to not be here anymore."
"Seconded", Angelo agreed. "But I don't know how. Do we need to do something with the stone?"
"If Dumbledore did enchant the mirror identically from the novels..." Marie-Ange walked over to the mirror and studied it, seemingly staring down her own reflection. "Well, that is the same, at least for me. Someone who does not want the thing has to take it. I would be too tempted to create a room of gold and use it to fix everything stupid about the Wizarding government" She paused. "Or we could just blow up the mirror, it is a vile item and I am strongly considering adding Dumbledore to my murder list."
The mirror spat out a red glimmering stone, and she bent to pick it up. "I think the rock likes him less than I do."
