Chapter Image by Illumination at The Dark Arts.
Questions, it is always questions.
The scroll of Naèbol.
There is nothing left.
The Wizarding world is no more.
Hell is among us, they are everywhere.
But we must stand tall, we must fight.
We must be brave.
The following few weeks proved to be immensely quiet for the students of Hogwarts. They side stepped one another in the halls and kept their focus intently toward the floor, they only acknowledged their peers when spoken to and anybody with a sharp eye could see that the majority of the school was frightened; but it was only getting worse.
The nightmares where starting to become uncontrollable for the men who resided there. It wasn't just frightening those who were experiencing the frightful event, but also others who hadn't. It plagued their minds with questions of what it could be? Would it run rapid through the entire school? Why hadn't it happened to those yet to be affected? Would it happen to each and every one of them soon?
Questions, it was always questions and those questions needed answering, but how did you answer a question when you didn't know where to begin?
To any student walking by the cluttered desk in the Library, it would appear that the two occupants seated where just getting frustrated over the piles of books and scrolls, the answers apparently not in them. However to the pair at the table, it was not as easy as just appearing to be lost in a mountain of homework.
“Listen to this," Draco whispered quietly as Blaise pushed a few of the books aside, eager to hear what his friend had found.
"It has come – the war has ended. He has protected us all but died in the process. They have been banished and the power they possessed sealed away for the great unknown to discover. The Castle is crumbled to ruins. Secrets now lie buried within the deep souls of the waters depth, waiting to be awakened. If awoken, they will turn havoc upon the world that will be. I pray they never become whole again, and this magic that has partially ruined my own world, remains shut for eternity –
do you think it has anything to do with all this
Blaise shrugged. He didn’t know exactly what all this
was; he didn’t know why he was buried knee deep in books and scrolls – searching for the end of something that didn’t have a start. He didn’t know why he was a Gryffindor, he didn’t understand why there were nine levels of education, he couldn’t find why or even when there had been no owl post and no contact from the outside world allowed during the school term.
Blaise didn’t know anything about this new world that they lived in, he couldn’t understand it or even why it happened and he knew - just as much as Draco did - that the searching was absolutely pointless without knowing where to start looking; but they had to try, even if it ended in defeat.
“Do you know what I still find strange though,” Draco said yawning and resting his head against his arm, “Riddle as headmaster.”
“I know,” Blaise said in agreement.
Tom Riddle was indeed their headmaster.
Following the steps of Salazar Slytherin had always been one of Tom’s biggest goals, everyone knew he wanted to banish the muggle born from Hogwarts, if not the entire world, and have only purebloods; that would eventually, over time, rein supreme. So what stumped them in this new life, was if Riddle was in the position he had always wanted; why where the muggle born kids still in Hogwarts and being treated just as fairly as a pureblood.
Day after day, things crossed Blaise’s mind about this world and the people In it, but nothing except for Voldermort ever stuck. Everything Voldermort had ever done, all the people he had hurt and killed, how was Blaise meant to forget about that? How was he supposed to believe that with this sudden upside down change that Hogwarts had gone through, that Voldermort had changed as well?
How was he supposed to treat him like an equal, as his headmaster?
“Muggle born hater my arse,” Draco muttered quietly to himself as he pulled one of the ancient books toward him. Blaise had to chuckle at his friend, for as much determination as he had for finding a way out of this new world, he easily got frustrated when he thought too much.
Blaise had to agree though. How does someone, who from the age of fifteen planned on becoming a suicidal maniac and attempting to take over the Wizarding world, just let all of his beliefs and religions die.
It didn’t make sense, nothing ever did, but Blaise prayed every day that hopefully a clue would appear that would finally make ends meet.
If there was something that did make sense it was how much Blaise missed what used to be.
“Do you miss it,” Blaise asked Draco, a little bit of sadness creeping through as he voiced his own thoughts, “do you miss the old world, what we had, what we did – do you miss it?”
Sighing, Draco nodded and shut the book softly, “Every day.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Blaise too missed the sound of laughing, the sound of chatter and gossip at meal times, he missed the sound of Dumbledore’s soft hum as he walked aimlessly past classrooms, as if he had all the time in the world. He even missed the way Granger, Potter and Weasley used to glare at Draco for unknown reasons, giving Draco and himself something to laugh about for hours.
Now, meal times where quiet, girls whispered to one another as boys exiled themselves to other parts of the castle, wishing to be alone. Teachers weren't teachers – they were guides. People had gone missing, things never were, and people hated each other that never had.
Personalities gone, reputations gone, families, the outside world, all gone.
It was like, everything that was ever good, had just disappeared to be replaced with evil. Only apparently in this new world, some of the evil wasn’t so bad. Blaise and Draco had come to a frightening realization, that in this new world, anything was possible and there was no telling what would be in store for anyone.
"Do you think," Draco said suddenly, "that we will ever get out of this world, that whatever happened will go back to how it was?"
Blaise bit his bottom lip. He couldn’t answer that, there was a lot of things he couldn’t answer and in honesty, he couldn’t answer anything that was to do with this world. It was almost like Draco was under a strong belief that Blaise was god and that he could fix anything, but he couldn’t and he wasn’t god, he was only Blaise Zabini, simple pureblood Wizard stuck in a world that made absolutely no sense.
So Blaise just answered with the same reply that he seemed to be repeating a lot lately, "I don't know mate, I really don't know."
Sighing, the two young men half hidden behind the monstrous mountain of books and scroll, ancient texts and hard to read hand written parchments began scanning through everything they possibly could that might help them. Searching for what they did not know, what they were going to find was a mystery, they only hoped that whatever they did find, would hold some key to whatever it was that they lived in and hopefully what had happened.
As day crept into night, and the students of Hogwarts all retreated to their common rooms, Tom Riddle sat quietly at his desk in his office, starring at the scrolls that littered his desk. His head was hurting from a sudden headache and his hands were sore from the amount of paper cuts he had acquired from reading so many ancient texts. In Tom’s opinion, there was nothing hidden in an that he had read.
Not all Riddles, this Riddle could solve.
“Salazar,” Tom said looking up at his portrait who sat in his throne starring aimlessly into space, “Could you please go to the dungeon for me and ask Mr. Finnigan to come to my office immediately please.”
Grumbling, the old portrait smiled politely and moved out of his portrait. When completely out of sight Tom opened up a very old looking book that sat upon his desk and started turning its pages softly. Godric Gryffindor, was not one to usual pry into other business, but when he took a glance at the book on Tom’s desk he swore he had seen it before, only a very long time ago.
Leaning forward in his portrait so he could get a closer look at the book, Godric felt his face lose coloring considerably at what he saw, “Forgive me sir, but isn’t that the ancient text book of Naèbol,” he asked, as he studied the outside work of the tattered, but delicate book, “I thought it was lost”
“Not quite,” Tom said not once taking his eyes off the pages, “It was said, that this book would contain the answer that we would need if the ancient world ever came back in another time, this book was supposed to help us – but it can’t.”
Godric frowned. He didn’t understand how a book that was supposed to be lost and hold the answer to their questions and their problems, did not
have the answers and solutions to their problems, “how can this book not help us, then?” Godric said a little frustrated.
“This book was supposed to contain all the answers and spells we would need to ward off whatever it exactly is that is out there, only we can’t, because this book,” Tom said, waving his hand over the frayed cover, “isn’t complete, it’s missing the scrolls of Naèbol.”
“and unfortunately,” Tom continued, cutting Godric off before he could say anything, “those scrolls are currently locked in the basement of the Finnigan home, which we can’t access alone, we need that child and we need him to remember every detail on those scrolls.”
“And if he can’t,” Godric asked, feeling slightly lost but hope full, “then what?”
The young man ran a hand through his hair and looked up at his favorite portrait with a small smile, “we need to pray that he does, because whatever it is that’s out there is very close to breaking through the wards, we do not have much time”
Meanwhile, at the bottom of the castle, in the lowest part of the Dungeon, a Slytherin girl could be found making her way through the Dungeons and walking in the direction of the Library. Her pace was quick and shifty and she moved through the castle, wanting to be undetected by any prefects that may still be lingering or any unwanted guides who may have been out for a midnight stroll.
The girl knew that getting into the Library and the restricted section would be the easy part, actually getting past everyone on her way to the Library would be the hard part.
Sneaking past the finally corridor and past a Prefect who had been almost on her trail the entire way, the girl quietly unlocked the door with a key she had managed to take from Professor Twillings when he hadn’t been looking and snuck inside. She had felt bad for taking the key, but when a situation such as this arouse she knew she had to take action.
The Library was empty.
Not a single movement could be seen in her line of vision, except for the candles that burnt brightly in small alcoves, making shadows dance against the walls and lighting a path toward the back of the Library. The girl followed the dimly lit corridor, passing rows of books from Quidditch to Hogwarts a history volume nine, everything anyone could possibly need to read was located in the Library, yet what she needed was in the one place she could not tolerate to go alone.
The restricted section was always dark and grim. There were no windows to shed any sunlight and there were no candles to light a path through the endless rows of old and ancient books. The restricted section was an endless labyrinth of darkness.
However big the Labyrinth might have been, the girl knew exactly what section, isle and row the she needed, so finding her way toward it – even in the dark, was not as hard as people thought. You just needed to know where to look.
Walking toward the back, the girl stopped as her foot bumped the solid back wall and took three paces backwards, before taking a sharp left. Bending down, she ran a hand over the bottom of the shelve, moving upward until she came to row eight. Her hands traced over different fabrics and hard and soft covered books as she counted every book in her head, not wanting to mess up and have to repeat the process again.
Finally stopping at book fifty two, the girl plucked the book from its hole and moved out of the restricted section. It did not take her long to retrace her steps and move back out into the comfort of the Library. The restricted section was not a place to linger.
Passage after passage she read, not once being able to find a clue or hint as to what she needed. She was not entirely sure what she was looking for but she had a fairly good idea that the message she need was hidden in a book from the third age; but finding a book created by Merlin, was not an easy task.
She turned the pages with care, as the book was old and frayed at the binding. Not once did she find a clue or a hint as to what Merlin had meant in previous books she had read. There was so many Riddles that Merlin had put into his passages, into words, into his small and elegant hand writing.
It wasn’t until well past four in the morning, when the weight of the heavy book was almost becoming too heavy to hold and her eyes hurt from starring at the old text for so long, that a glimmer of hope in a passage finally gave life to her problem.
The Scroll of Mutug.
The daily bread is old and stale. We do not have enough men to last the night. They are hungry and Thirsty. They are not strong enough to stand and fight.
If we succeed in this battle, at the end we will lose. Fighting is a lost Cause.
You cannot kill them, only banish them. The men grow anxious as we Hold on to the support beams.
The barriers of our castle Are becoming lost, they are Slowly breaking through.
The castle has been breached by only a few. All are in our capture. Magic like this should be forbidden.
It is much too powerful. This Magic is Evil, and should Remain in hiding. It is unbelievably strong.
If we do not act fast it will wipe us out, we must be hasty.
There is only one now who can help, only one who holds the secrets to our Survival.
That human must be a he and a half blood.
We must find him, otherwise our entire existence Is doomed.
Starring at the words that practically jumped out at he as she re-read them over and over. Words where bolded that should not have been, others where capitalized, but she knew that to decipher this message would albeit be impossible on her own, but it wasn’t exactly like anyone else could help her.
Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and drummed her fingers against the desk. She knew she could read the passage again, and try to figure out its riddles by herself, but she knew it would be a feeble attempt. Closing the book, the girl yawned and stood, letting wood scrap against wood as she pushed her chair back.
Gathering the book in her arms, the girl walked toward the back of the Library and the restricted section for the second time that night. However, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and the tip of a wand was pressed into the small of her back, her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. She hadn’t even realized anyone was behind her or near her.
“Now Granger, why would you of all people be looking into an ancient scroll’s of Merlin,” a low smooth voice whispered in Hermione Grangers ear as she dropped her book against the hard wood floor, “Why would you want to know about dark magic and the things that Merlin did – at four in the morning?”
Naebol - NA - E - BOWL
Mutug - MEW - TOG
Copyright: Anything related to Merlin is his, and J.k Rowling owns the HP characters!! Any other content is created by me.
I am terribly sorry about the long wait on this chapter to all my readers. This one however has a few plot twists and turns. If you can find them let me know what you think they are.
The first two chapter will be undergoing revision shortly, and chapter four is almost complete as well, so look out for updated versions of 1 and 2 and chapter 4 :)
Thank you for all you support with this story :D
Let me know what you think is happening too this world.