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Death Chamber
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The Death Chamber was changing. With the new lab equipment were new sights, smells, and sounds. Various liquids were bubbling, and emitting often rather sweet vapors, making the room seem alive for the first time. With the more obvious changes came the smaller ones at the employees initiative. The lighting was brighter to accommodate the alchemists, though there was a master lantern near the entrance that would allow someone to dim, or even change the color of the rest of the torches or candles. Another change was that one of the employees decided to take the cleaning duties into his own hands. With his ever-standing cane keeping a vigil at the top of the room, the man himself was about halfway down, a broom in hand. The dusty old chamber never looked cleaner. It was a time for new beginnings. |
Jane had been so engrossed in her work in the new laboratory that had been set up in the Death Chamber that she hadn't even noticed that anyone else had come in. How long she had been in there working, she wasn't even sure. She was looking subtly different from her usual self this year--dark circles were starting to form under her eyes, a strand or two of hair was slipping out of her usually neat bun, and she seemed very serious, without her former understated cheerfulness. As she reduced the flame to very low, the potion she'd been working on subsided from a low boil to a barely noticeable simmer, and in the resulting quiet, she suddenly thought she heard a noise in the room. "Hello? Is someone there?" she called out, stepping cautiously out of the laboratory area and nearly tripping over a cane that had been left at the top of the stairs. |
The cane teetered when Jane bumped into it, but it quickly brought itself back upright. If the Ministry were to collapse right now, the two things left standing, would likely be that cane and the archway in the center of the room. "Jane!" Damian exclaimed in surprise, in the middle of a broom stroke. "To me." Calling to the cane, it zipped to the unspeakable's right hand, while letting the enchanted broom go about it's business unaided. "Not that I don't appreciate the gloomy atmosphere. It really sets a mood..But I've grown tired of working in a dusty mausoleum." Cane in hand, he confidently climbed up the stairs. His bad leg wasn't giving him much trouble today. Thanks for asking. "How was your holiday?" |
Jane noted vaguely the self-righting cane and briefly thought what a handy bit of magic that was. She looked around at the Chamber as she slowly made her way further down the stairs--it was indeed much cleaner than it had been. She hadn't really been aware for a long time now of the condition of the Chamber; its atmosphere of gloom and disuse rather suited her current mood. Or maybe that was her imagination--the work she was doing could have a depressing effect. "My holiday?" she finally responded. Had she been on holiday? Oh yes, the trip to Europe; she supposed that might count as a sort of holiday--at least things had turned out more or less all right in the end. "It was all right. I did manage to see some of my old colleagues at the Alchemical Institute at Göttingen." Including the most important one, the meeting she wasn't going to mention to anyone. "But Europe has gotten a bit...strange," she continued, frowing slightly at the memory of the signs she'd seen of Neo-Alliance activity in Germany--their influence had definitely spread beyond London, or Britain. |
"Ah." There was a brief pause, knowing that she wasn't telling the full story, but he had no right to pry. "I keep in touch with magical musicians across the world. We share music, practically a language in it's own right, and some of it has been rather distressing to hear." Few truly knew the secret messages that were sent around the world through song. It could often be felt, but the feeling was hard to decipher without an understanding of their hidden language. "They took their shot at us first. Even if they couldn't topple the ministry, they did enough damage to embolden their ilk around the world. We have to be vigilant that their evil doesn't take root here again." Giving the cane a squeeze, the weariness in his heart was starting to show through his youthful demeanor. He could see the witch felt something similar. Damian wanted to say something funny to try and lift her spirits. Even if his humor fell flat on her ears, he at least could offer a brief respite from her woes. But today wasn't the day for mirth. What he said next was as cold and serious as the grave. "I'm going to find him. I've heard rumors that he never escaped the ministry, and has been feeding on employees. I investigated the scene of one of the attacks, and luckily the woman was found alive. But he has killed in the past. Though we have treaties, and accords, saying that his kind deserve to be treated like any other witch or wizard, he's broken every single one. It's his actions that has made a monster out of him." Damian knew that Jane knew who exactly he was talking about. The classification of vampires had been a hotly debated topic throughout the centuries. The unspeakables of the Death Chamber often classify them under their purview. Other departments would sometimes argue against Mysteries claims, at least until MLE needed a specialist. |
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"Though I try not to be here before noon, I did make it there for breakfast that day." Damian said nonchalantly, taking a seat on one of the steps, as the enchanted broom came sweeping by. His work outside the ministry building kept him on the graveyard shift, because the ghastly and the ghouls rarely kept regular business hours. Showing up midday, half asleep, earned him a reputation as lazy to those who did not know the nature of his occupation. "The pancakes were quite delectable. Even the fountain spouting a viscous red liquid couldn't bring me down from the heights of syrup induced joy." Finding the cold stone rather comfortable against his back, the man sprawled out on the step, letting his head hang off the edge, observing the chamber upside down. "I was actually rather happy to see it. My previous hypothesis was that he was trapped in the ministry. Attacking out of desperation. But the theatrics shows there is more method to his madness. Or, at the very least, he isn't acting alone." Though it was grim business, he always did it with a smile. It helped to know that he had the epitome of professionalism watching his back. |
Ordinarily Jane would find the sight of someone lolling off one of the steps in the Death Chamber to view it upside down amusing, but nothing lately seemed amusing to her. It was the work, she knew--this phase of the experiment was bound to cause negative feelings to well up in a person, Jane knew that. But still, even knowing it in advance did not keep it from depressing her. And the fact that she, along with other Ministry staff, had been unable so far to discover exactly what that liquid in the fountain really was. Seating herself on another of the stone steps, Jane rested her head on one hand. "No, he's not working alone," she commented glumly. "He doesn't have the capability of producing that liquid in the fountain. So far, it's defied all of the combined abilities and knowledge of the Ministry; no one in any of the departments has been able to analyze exactly what it is." Jane felt rather a failure at the moment and gave a sad sigh. |
"Hmm." Though he was listening to every word, Damian was easily distracted. With an upside-down perspective, he was looking around the chamber. The tower inverted, death inverted. But whatever truth he was trying to find was not easily revealing itself. Raising his head to look at Jane (The Empress? Queen of Pentacles?), Damian did not notice her melancholy until he turned his view upright. "Have some chocolate." Reaching into a pocket, there was a jingling of coins, and various trinkets, before he pulled out a black wrapped chocolate bar with gold inlay. Unwrapping the bar, the unspeakable was unaware of the pair of notes that had tumbled from his pocket, an origami frog and crane. "Pair of unspeakables came up with this specific brand of chocolate in this very chamber. It was meant to treat dementor sickness, but it's good enough to have as a treat when you're feeling a little blue." Handing Jane a square, the pair of notes were making their attempt to hop/fly away. "Always thought 'The special ingredient is love.' was just a cute bit of marketing, but I checked the Love Chamber logs. It's true, believe it or not." After snatching up the rogue origami before they could escape, those blue eyes watched intently. Wondering if the woman was being overworked, or that the sanguine substance was having some effect on her. Maybe both. |
Jane walked toward him, not seeming to really hear what he was saying, but all the same she did reach out for the chocolate. Love, eh? Maybe that would help, though she doubted it. She was well into the Black Phase of her alchemical work now, and that required delving into your deepest shadows and facing you worst fears. Still, chocolate probably wouldn't hurt. She had been working very hard. "Thank you. If nothing else, maybe it will wake me up. I hadn't noticed until just a while ago how late it was. But I wanted to finish what I was doing and put it on a low simmer before leaving it alone." Jane stood here, meditatively chewing a bite of the chocolate. Maybe a cup of coffee would help...Then she noticed the escaping notes. "Don't let any get away," she commented with just a touch of her dry humor. "They have a tendency to try to jump through the Veil. Whatever is behind there probably doesn't know what to make of them." |
Not sure if the chocolate was having any effect on Jane, seeing her try it at least gave his mood a slight push in the right direction. "I'd like to think they would read them." Damian said hopefully. "Sometimes, at night, when I have the chamber to myself I play my guitar for them. My first published paper was about how ghosts react to music. I figure it's worth a shot, and to be quite honest. the acoustics are pretty great in here." He added with a small smile, harkening back to his first time in this chamber. "I know it'd be a practice in futility to try and convince you to go home and get some rest. So, perhaps I could talk you into hitting the break room for some coffee, and a little time away from your experiment? Can't have you running yourself ragged. Anything happens to you, who is going to have my back?" They were complete opposites. Night and Day. Life and Death. Through these differences, and the importance of their work, a fierce loyalty was forged. Jane's professionalism and work ethic were two things Damian severely lacked, but deeply respected. |
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"You're right," she finally answered, wiping her hands on a pocket handkerchief that she produced, seemingly from nowhere. "I've been in here too long today. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the Third Floor Break Room." She preferred that one when she wanted to be by herself, and besides, she just remembered she had a biscuit stored away there. "But fair warning--if I don't get back in time, you may find an oily black cloud that smells like sulphur and rotten eggs emanating from my lab," she remarked wryly over her shoulder to him as she headed up the stairs to the exit. |
With a bit of a grin on his face, Damian felt rather proud of himself for convincing his superior to practice a little self care. How very grown up of him. Wait, what did she say? "You're kidding, right?" He stammered. "I can't tell when you're kidding!" That grin fell right off his face. "I've worked so very hard to clean this place..." The wizard muttered sheepishly. What was this chill running down his spine? This sense of impending doom? |
New Ministry year, new timeline... Jane stood in the special potions lab area of the Death Chamber and surveyed the remains of her last experiments. It seemed so long ago since she left them, intending to be gone no more than an hour for a cup of tea and a muffin. But things didn't turn out the way she planned, as they often didn't. She'd been attacked by...something (a vampire, according to her colleague, Damian Pendragon, and Jane supposed he ought to know, though she hadn't seen her attacker and remembered only a few vague sensations related to the event). With all the noxious and even toxic (some of them) herbs and ingredients that had been permeating her body and clothing last year, Jane had hoped that whatever (or whoever, for she had her suspicions) had attacked her might have poisoned itself. Though you could never tell with vampires. Now, although her colleagues had managed to close down the experiments before they fouled the Death Chamber in her absence, there was nothing left of them but charred embers and a dark, foul-smelling sludge in the bottom of one retort. Disgusted, Jane cast "Evanesco!" with her wand and vanished the entire thing. She would have to start over, of course. But instead of feeling depressed, she felt excited, even elated. There was nothing like a near-death experiment to bring clarity to the Putrefaction stage of the Nigredo process. What needed to be done next had manifested itself in her mind so clearly as she was regaining consciousness--she could see the answer all of a whole, like her subconscious had been working on it all the time she had been unconscious. Humming to herself softly, she began gathering the equipment and ingredients needed to begin again. |
Strolling into the chamber, while humming a tune to himself, Damian was in a rather good mood after encountering Conley and his daughter at the fountain. It was almost enough to allow him to forget the experience in America that lead to him carrying a chained up, face bound book, and his robes being covered in muck and other nastiness. "Mind the stairs." Dropping the chain, the unflappable unspeakable gave the book a kick to the face, sending it sailing down the stairs as it cursed him in some dead language. "To me." Calling his simple wooden cane to his now free hand, Damian carefully made his way down to the bottom of the room. "Any last words?" More Sumerian gibberish. "Yeah, I'll miss you too. Enjoy your stay in the Night Library." Replacing his cane with his wand, he picked up the book with his other hand, making sure not to let it bite his fingers. Again. And with a few words, a small opening formed in the marble, just large enough for him to shove the book into before sealing back up. "Ugh." Ugh. |
Jane poked her head around the corner of her laboratory area at the sound of thumping. It was her colleague, Damian Pendragon, kicking something (she hoped it was not a someone) down the stairs and then magicking it into an opening in the marble before sealing it up. "Damian? Is that you?" she called, stepping out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. "What is that? Are you leaving it in here?? I can't have another mishap with this experiment." Really, this stage of her work was very delicate and the least wrong vibration could set it awry, which was the very reason she had asked permission to set up a lab in the Death Chamber. Damian was a good, even at times a noble, person, but he didn't communicate things as well as might be wished sometimes. Jane sighed slightly. She had been wanting to speak to Damian ever since she'd returned to work about some impressions she was starting to remember from her attack, but really, he couldn't have turned up at a worse time. |
Damian was exhausted. Tired to his very core, and neglecting to do his due diligence. The doctor wouldn't have let himself be caught accessing the area under the veil. With his back to Ms. Howard, he only saw her shadow stretching over him as he heard her voice. "It's me.." He called out to the witch, wand still in his hand. "I didn't want to worry you with this." The unspeakable, the mortemist, knew that he should obliviate her, and unburden her of the knowledge of such a terrible secret. Damian knew what he should do, but he also knew what he could do. And he knew he couldn't do that to her. She'd already been through so much, and a selfish part of him needed to share this with her. With someone. Every day he cursed the name of Nero Nykto for hanging the weight of the Death Chamber around his neck. "It can't do anything if we don't read it." Letting his wand slide down his tattered sleeve, Damian turned to look up at Jane, a hint of shame in his eyes. "This is where we keep the bad ideas. The tomes and grimoires that have to be hidden away until we find out how to safely destroy them. It's dangerous to even think about these books outside of this chamber, not to mention speaking of them." Ideas could be dangerous, and knowledge could be a burden. If there was anyone he could trust, it would be Jane Howard. His shoulders felt a little less heavy when she was around. |
Jane continued standing there, frowning slightly, though she did lower her wand. "I wish Mr. Flamsteed had warned me about this before he set up my laboratory in here. I had no idea this chamber served as the Restricted Section for the Ministry." Sighing, she suddenly wheeled around and began casting a protective circle utilizing the *hagalaz rune around her workstation and chanting under her breath in a low voice. When she was satisfied that no stray vibrations could get near her experiment, she turned back to Damian. "I'd been wanting to talk to you since I got back. I've remembered some things--very vague impressions, you understand--about my attack, and I felt I should share them with someone. But I haven't been able to get hold of any of the aurors--I suspect they think it not worth their time, and they may be right. But I thought you--since you have experience with such things." She gestured vaguely at the puncture marks on her neck, which were clearly visible above her lightweight robes. Some women would try to hide such a scar with jewelry or scarves, but Jane didn't bother with such vanities. She didn't go into detail about what "such things" might be--it didn't take a genius to put massive blood loss and a wound consisting of two puncture marks together and come to some sort of conclusion about what might have attacked her. |
If anyone is keeping track: This takes place before the Lair of Despair. "We.." Damian was beginning to make his way up the stairs. "We don't really talk about the books.. I try to forget sometimes myself." He didn't want to have to explain the lengths he sometimes went to to do this. "The aurors have been rather tight lipped about these incidents, haven't they?" He was at the top of the room now, leaving his cane standing as he approached Jane. "I never liked doing consultations for suspected vampire attacks when I was in the private sector. There's always so many different parties involved. When dealing with dementors, ghosts, inferi, etc; Things are pretty straightforward. But with vampires, they're classified as people with an affliction, so have to be treated as such." Damian could have rambled more, but he became distracted by the two small marks on the witches' neck. "I'm sorry, I talk too much sometimes. What do you remember? No detail is unimportant." The investigation into the attacks within the walls of the Ministry of Magic had been a side project over the last year, but when Jane Howard became the latest victim, Damian began to take things personally. He was constantly exhausted, but he knew he could only rest properly when this was all over. |
"Hmm, yes, well even people with an affliction have to answer if they commit crimes," Jane said rather tartly. She didn't believe personal problems, however genuine, were valid excuses for bad behavior--especially murder (and she was still not quite over losing her previous colleague). "Well, I really don't remember very much. And of course, with the puncture wounds and our past experience in the Ministry with...a certain individual, one can come to certain conclusions about what is going on. But...I do have vague memories of...a sort of hissing, yowling sounds--almost like purring. And there were these blurry, rather animalistic movements around--which I felt, rather than saw, you understand, because the room was filled with the most unimaginable blackness. And I had been curious, because I'd never heard of those sorts of things associated with..." (oh, why was she beating around the bush about it, especially down here with Damian, they both knew what they were talking about here) "...with vampires before. Is it the vampire turning into some sort of animal, or accompanied by one, or...well, as I said, it's all rather vague. But I started dreaming about it, even when awake, in the hospital, and even know, sometimes I do still. I know what I heard." Despite the healers' attempts to placate her with words about stress and blood loss causing her to imagine things. Which Jane Howard did not do. |
"Hrmm.." Damian's blue eyes fluttered while listening intently as Jane spoke. "I would think his continued seclusion, his desperation, is causing him to become more, uh, feral." With a wave of his hand over his face, he closed his eyes. "At first, I dismissed the loss of vision as a symptom of fading consciousness, but it has become apparent that the shade came before the attack." The younger wizard pointed his finger like a wand towards the veil. "That's what pointed me at Goldwasser. He couldn't help but make a show of abducting my predecessor under a cloud of darkness. Then, he was at the top of his power. Now, he's desperate, in hiding." This was punctuated with a huff. "Have you been feeling well? Sensitivity to sunlight? Aversion to running water?" His voice softening, two fingers pressed against the scars on Jane's neck. |
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"And you're definitely right about the darkness--it came before the attack, because I remember trying to see what was in the room with me and failing to." Jane didn't really want to dwell on the attack much, it would inhibit her work, but she'd felt she ought to share wha |
"Pulse is good. You seem to be the picture of health." Damian removed his fingers from the side of her throat, and put them on his own. "But I'm terrified. I don't know how you're handling this so well." The mortemist was supposed to be the most mysterious of the Department of Mysteries. The shadow of death itself. But he knew he was only mortal, and something far more dangerous stalked the halls of the Ministry of Magic. Dropping his hand to his side, Damian turned his head away. "This is all coming to a head soon." He had pulled the deck of beaten cards from his pocket already. It used to be for fun, but over the last couple years it had become an obsession. Turning over the first card, it showed a weathered picture of a menacing being cloaked in shadows. The Devil Card. Again, and again, he turned cards over with increasing speed until they became a messy pile at his feet. The Devil Card. Each and every one. |
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If Damian lived a hundred years, and a hundred years after that, he would not be half as wise as Jane Howard. Being clever got him this far, and being tricky got him into the Ministry of Magic. "You are right." She always seemed to be. She could turn trauma into strength. A true alchemist. "We'll persevere." The hand on his arm seemed to send a jolt of positive energy through him. "Nothing lives in darkness forever. The sun rises. Even if we have to hoist it up above the horizon with our own hands." Damian let a moments silence linger between them. A thousand words living and dying on his tongue without any escaping. Until. "I would ask about this experiment of yours that has taken you so close to the edge, but privacy is one of the few luxuries that we are afforded here." He spoke more out of concern than curiosity. |
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"Hey.." He had met her gaze with a roguish grin. "Hey, you must be mistaking me for someone that causes trouble." Damian should probably be offended that Jane didn't entirely trust him with his work in the chamber, but he didn't mind a chance to prove himself. He knew that he could be unpredictable, and how that made people uncomfortable. "I really tried my best to care for your lab while you were gone. I hardly know my mortar from my pestle, but the chamber didn't explode... If that was possible." The wizard was rather proud of how well he took care of the place during Jane's convalescence. "And as for the book, remember: It's only dangerous if you read it. And there's nothing in there that I could ever want." Damian punctuated this by pointing at himself, and then moving the finger in her direction. "But an alchemist? The possibility of living forever? To bring back the dead? Even when it's done with the most noble of intentions, it all ends in horror." He could go from joking to serious at the drop of a hat. "But, I trust you even more than I trust myself. So, there's nowhere safer in the world." With that finger he turned on her, Damian gave her nose a little boop. |
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"And I promise not to try to read the book. I wasn't particularly afraid of danger, only of--what people in the '60s used to refer to as 'bad vibrations.'" |
"I know a few things about bad vibrations. I once had this cursed guitar that--" Damian began excitedly, though he cut himself off before he could get far into his fantastical, and long winded, story. "Instead of another tale, how about I share something actually useful?" Dangling his wand loosely between his thumb and index finger, he struck it gently against his chest while saying "Interi vibratus." Like a tuning fork, the wand vibrated with a low, steady hum. "Isn't that neat? Everything vibrates, and this lets you hear it." He added, waving the wand around a bit, as if conducting music. "It helps identify cursed objects, and getting a read on someone's general mood." He was full of surprises. |
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"Sorry.." Damian said, not needing his spell to pick up on the vibes Jane was giving off. "My mind has been all abuzz lately." In a magical world of endless possibilities, how could it not? "Trying to turn all this nervous energy into something positive." The urge to ramble, and spin an anecdote off into a long-winded story, was strong with him. But, instead, he only spoke a simple statement. "I have some theories about this chamber." Holding his hands up in surrender, he added. "But that can wait. I should let you get back to work." The wizard knew how important her work was. To her, and the larger wizarding world. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for taking up her time with his prattling on. |
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She turned and walked back up the steps to the sectioned off area in one section of the top level that had been turned into a laboratory for her. Just before she disappeared around the partition, she turned and called over her shoulder, "And Damian--try not to let your emotions override your judgement out there." And she gave one of her enigmatic smiles before returning to her work. |
New Timeline... Jane Howard was standing before the small potions laboratory set up at the top of the Death Chamber staring blankly at her current experiments. The Chamber seemed strangely empty and hollow, the atmosphere disturbing. Her colleagues, Damian Pendragon and David Truebridge were strangely missing. Odd--she hadn't seen them in days; where could they have gone? After rather a long time, Jane picked up a large flask of water, held it over the tabletop, and proceeded to douse everything in sight with water, causing a plume of black, oily smoke to rise up from her cauldron, filling the Chamber with an unpleasant pungent odor. Then Jane opened her mouth and emitted an impossibly loud, high, squealing SCREEEEECH!!! which filled the Chamber and even seemed to stir the curtains on the Dais down below in the center. Then Jane dropped the flask, which shattered on the stone floor, and wandered erratically out of the door... |
New year, new timeline... Jane Howard, Department of Mysteries alchemist, lowered the flame on her Bain-Marie, and spent a few moments gazing fondly at the dark, somewhat gelatinous mass inside. "Patience, all will be completed in due course," she murmured gently, but whether to the experiment or to herself was hard to tell. Giving one final glance, to make sure nothing was amiss, she wiped her hands with a specially-charmed cleaning cloth (casting a cleaning charm this close to the experiment might cause undue magical reverberations). Then she straightened her hair and clothing and stepped away from her small laboratory area in the upper areas of the chamber and made her way out of the Death Chamber. It was high time she had a break, after all, and it didn't do to spend too much time under the influence of the chamber. The experiment in the Bain Marie simmered softly, emitting a faint cloud of steam which began to expand and float down the stairs of the chamber, seeping into the cracks and crannies of the walls. When it reached one particular corner, it began to turn black in colour. Soon a billowing dark cloud of vapor was expanding in the Death Chamber. |
Smelling faintly of petrichor, with hair recently dried by the morning sun, Damian approached the entrance to the chamber in mud flecked shoes. It was a long morning after a long night, and he had promised himself that he would only come to the Ministry to grab breakfast before going home to his bed and blackout curtains. He was only a couple bites into his breakfast burrito when he heard a disembodied voice speaking in a dead tongue. Hunger and sleep were distant memories when the unspeakable finally entered the Death Chamber. The dreadful voice beckoning him inside was more than just sleep deprived delirium. The black cloud at the bottom of the chamber, surrounding the vale in the center, reeked of pure malevolence. Whatever elixir or tincture that Jane had been brewing awakened something Damian had hoped to keep buried. A mortemist should know that what was dead and buried was not guaranteed to stay that way. "Some right Barney Rubble down there." Damian often let his cockney accent slip when he was alone, shedding his more dignified airs. With no clue how to get out of this predicament, he would have to at least make an attempt to contain it. Having confiscated nearly every saltshaker from the food court, a circle was walked around the upper edge of the room, leaving a trail behind him. Discarding the final shaker when reaching back where he started, Damian had his wand out while uttering a protective spell. There was a gnawing feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better. |
Jane had allowed herself a half-hour's tea break and then returned to the Death Chamber to finish tidying up some things and make some final notes. She was humming under her breath as she closed the door, but cut herself off mid-phrase as she stopped in her tracks to survey the chaos inside. Can't go out for even a few minutes in this place... she muttered to herself. Looking down into the center of the Chamber she took note of the black cloud, which was emanating misery and despair even at distance. Oh no... What could have gone wrong? She was certain she'd done the experiment correctly, but it shouldn't be doing this. Then she noticed her colleague up on the top ring of the Chamber, scattering some substance that looked a great deal like common table salt. Jane hoped that was all it was, because they really didn't need any more chemicals in here right now. "Damian!" she whispered, moving a bit closer to him, but taking care to stay out of the way of whatever he was doing. "What's happened? My experiment should not have produced this effect." |
"That thing I told you wouldn't be a problem? It became a problem." Damian stated plainly after finishing his incantation. That would buy a little time. "This was supposed to be the safest place to hide that book. The vale was keeping it in a dormant state, but whatever you cooked up had some unforeseen side effects." He was nervously gesturing while he talked. The black fog was shaking his unflappable confidence. "It-It's not just dark magic: It's anti-life. That thing can give the power to subjugate the living as well as the dead, and it might even reveal how to create dementors. Just thinking of it feels like a splinter in my minds eye." It wasn't just the fog; black lines, like veins or tree branches had begun to slowly stretch across the stone floor. The air felt thick and oppressive. If they listened closely, they could hear the whispers of forbidden knowledge, or was that all in their heads? "We. I have to destroy it." |
Jane looked perturbed for a moment as she listened to Damian. Yes, she'd urged caution way back when he said this wouldn't be a problem, because she knew what she was working on was tricky, but he'd seemed so assured about it, she had let herself be convinced. "I've been working on the Black Phase for several years now--that's why I needed the lab set up in the Death Chamber, the vibrations in the Love Chamber lab were causing interference." Jane paused, unsure how much Damian knew about alchemy. "It's a very difficult phase--the term "Dark Night of the Soul" might sum it up. But I was very near to completing it--I'd managed to decay it all down in a sort of embryo state, ready for the Fermentation Stage. But if what you were storing in there does what you say, it is very bad. Because my experiment is the concentrated essence of depression and despair, and it sounds like your thing could exacerbate it." Jane had pulled out her wand and was using it to take readings on the black vapor, trying to nail down just what they were dealing with. She certainly wasn't going to leave Damian to try to fix this on his own. He might be an expert on dark objects, but he was no alchemist, and that was now part of what they had on their hands. |
Another time. Another mystery. Approaching the hall that lead to the locked and sealed door to the Death Chamber it sounded as if there was a heated argument accompanied by the sound of thrashing and crashing. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the sound was some classic British punk coming from an old tombstone shaped, wood cased radio. The one responsible for this racket was the infamous Damian Pendragon. He'd gone back to his roots over the holiday. Leather jackets and combat boots was who he was before being employed by the Ministry of Magic. The Unspeakable's head was bobbing along with the music as he paced in front of the large, imposing door. Chains and runes had kept anyone from entering until Jane and Damian could sort out the dire situation brewing within. |
Jane was running uncharacteristically late, but she had wanted to make sure she had all the notes and equipment they might need. Damian had been pretty set on destroying whatever their mutual experiments might have created, but Jane was equally set on trying to save at least the germ of the result of her work in the Fermentation phase. She had had to start over so many times already and she wasn't willing to abandon it now without trying. |
"Ms. Howard." Jane's name was lost in the loud music before it came to an end with a gentle pop and hiss of static when Damian turned a knob to switch off the radio. She was the type of witch you could set a watch to. On the other hand, you would have to tell Damian a nine o'clock meeting was at eight thirty in the hopes that he would get there by a quarter after. Jane's tardiness did not go unnoticed, but he didn't think it'd be wise to acknowledge it. "How are ya, Jane? Did you sleep well? Did you eat?" Leaning in with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the wizard looked over his fellow unspeakable along with the notes and equipment she brought. She looked prepared, but was she really? Damian was never shy about his professional and personal concern. With just his wand and his wits, he seemed ill prepared for the task ahead, but the often-melancholy mortemist was radiating confidence. |
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Jane cocked an eyebrow at her colleague. She suspected he though of her as a sheltered bookworm sort of person, hiding away from the world in a laboratory. But there were parts of the alchemical process that would chill the stoutest of hearts, and Jane had seen some things, as the saying went. Anyway, whatever they faced, they were both responsible for it and therefore it was up to them to try to make it right. |
"Jane." Damian started with a small laugh. He was a professional loner, but if he had to work with someone it would be Jane Howard. She would be prepared and take things as seriously as they deserved. She was the best of the best, but he still had his concerns. "The important question was: How are you?" Damian was often silly, but he was always sincere. "My secret weapon in situations like this is a full heart. Started my day sleeping in without an alarm clock and having eggies in a basket like my mum used to make. The leather jacket, the music, my favorite cologne. All alchemical ingredients to keep my fire burning. Sometimes I visit a shelter and pet all the dogs, or I go out to dinner and kiss someone pretty. There's no room in here for whatever is in there to latch on to." He punctuated this by pointing at his heart and then at the locked door to the chamber. Damian was well aware of the dangers that his line of work entailed. It was an inevitability that some darkness would take root, but this did not make him a dark wizard. His love for life allowed him to defy the darkness in all its forms. Jane knew all this. She was a master alchemist. The archeus and the ethers. Life, light, chemical, reflection. He was just doing his best, and it helped to say it out loud. Pulling an old brass key from his jacket pocket, Damian gently placed it inside the lock and stepped aside. It would be up to her to turn it when she was ready. |
Jane smiled a little at her colleague's description of his feel-good routine. Somehow, she had not suspected some of the things he mentioned, especially the puppy-petting. But for Jane, the mere prospect of new knowledge, of making a new discovery, and, of course, of working once more with her creation, was enough to fill her with a sharp and curious joy. Rather like the feeling one got when catching a glimpse of the rising sun on a fine morning. Just thinking of her little alchemical embroyo in there filled her heart with love, for it, for the joy of discovery, and for life in general. No, she would not let anything happen to her work now; she had had to start over again too many times already. The forces of darkness might be powerful, but they had never had to deal with a determined and capable nanny before. All these thoughts passed through her mind in an instant, and from the outside it would appear to be hardly any time at all before Jane took a step toward the door. Carefully, but firmly, she took hold of the brass handle and turned the key in the lock. |
Per usual, David was set on minding his own business, keeping to himself and largely ignoring the shenanigans caused by his quirkiest coworkers. As he approached the pair at the door, however, he had to hold back more than a few snorts at what he was overhearing. Eggies, really? Grown men used the term eggies?? He sighed as he stopped outside the door and behind the two turning the key. Quickly he dug into his pocket, and unearthed his palm-sized notebook and miniature golden Muggle pen which resided in its spirals. He clicked it out and began jotting down notes, with a soft, "Don't mind me," as the pen started scratching. Yes, yes, he was here to watch their proposed "strenuous activities,' though he would, of course, be maintaining a calculated safe and significant physical distance. He had no need to really involve himself in this beyond the observational, no desire to become more ambitious, no thank you at all. Unlike his coworker who liked to 'kiss someone beautiful,' David's highly excitable dinner plans typically included tending to the Anyway. Must stay focused. Brass handle he underlined, pen poised to write the results of the door opening. |
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Stepping quickly over the threshhold, Jane looked into the Death Chamber, scanning the upper rim where her temporary laboratory was set up, straining to see...whatever, through the dim light. Was that a sound she heard up there? Sort of a slimy rustling, like a giant snail was creeping along the top level. She wanted to get a better look at her retort, but waited Jane waited until Damian could join her, quite prepared to slam the door behind them, in Mr. Truebridge's face, if necessary. |
Sorry for the delay. Enjoy a rambling post. "David!" Damian started excitedly. "I am glad you could make it, my friend." Clapping a hand on David's shoulder, his eyes were distracted by the golden pen. "It may be wise to stay outside, but today calls for bravery." Offering a warm smile, he was trying his best to play off Jane's rebuff as an act of concern. "I don't want you to feel like a third wheel. There's power in the number three." Damian drew a triangle in the air with a finger as he said this. "Bringing disparate opposites together as a stronger whole!" Thinking about the shiny gold pen, he reached a finger towards it. "Might want to write that part down." Taking a step towards the open door, Damian could feel what seemed at first like a cold breeze, but it was more like it was absorbing the heat from the hall. "Our foolish hearts get us into all sorts of trouble. That's why we need people like you to keep us honest. Honest hearts leading to honest actions an' all that, right?" Looking back one last time before entering, he pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway that appeared like a gaping maw ready to swallow them whole. A journey into mystery. "Once more unto the breach?" |
La la la continuing on with our scheme For the record (not that anyone is recording one or anything, ahem): David Truebridge was N O T a reporter. He did not hold the press in high regard, in fact, ever since they reported on his underwater kidnapping and then left him high and dry (all puns fully intended) and rather scarred from the whole thing afterward. "I will NOT be sitting this one out," he retorted hotly, though he did jot down Damian's quip (as it WAS a good one). Davie then quickly stuffed his notebook into an interior pocket of his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. See? He meant business. He was risking wrinkles in this fine suit for this. He did hope his coworkers appreciated the small sacrifices as much as the large ones. "Once more with the door...." He intoned, wand out now and at the ready. "Lead the way, Jane." |
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It was cold, clammy, and the light was dim. The Death Chamber felt more like a mausoleum than ever, despite their previous efforts to liven the place up. Whatever was moving sounded like trying to walk through a swamp. "There it is." Damian spoke in a hushed tone, his eyes adjusting to the light. "The shadow at the far wall." It appeared as an absence of light, a shifting Rorschach test that looked different depending on who was viewing it. Thin pseudopods stretched from a center mass, branching like veins or rivers, creating Lichtenburg figures across the floor. "Looks like we have a protoplasmic biblio-entity on our hands. A semi-sentient mass of magic ink spreading knowledge with a viral touch. Prolonged exposure will cause you to forget everything else. Won't know your own name, but you'll know every word of the book that thing used to be." It was a secret that desired to be a gospel. Dark magic given life, it would fill the minds of every witch and wizard it could reach. These three would be the first to preach the word of the new book of magic. Forbidden spells and rituals would spread across the wizarding world like a starless night stretching across the sky forever. Damian kept his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, reluctant to draw his wand just yet. Just looking at the shapeless mass seemed to have some effect on the wizard. It was hard to concentrate with intrusive thoughts seeping in. "Theories anyone?" |
Jane had turned away as soon as she caught a glimpse of the shapeless thing that seemed to just exude 'wrongness' and thought for a while, trying to remember what state her experiment had been in the last time she'd been working on it. "That entity, whatever darkness was in that book, has also absorbed the experiment I'd been working on. I was just completing the Black Phase, the final separation of the new life from the dead, impure residue. If I'm not mistaken, that spark of life is what's fueling the entity and if we can remove it, the thing should lose its ability to move and function on its own and return to what it was originally. And now that it's no longer linked to its host, the book, perhaps it will expire on its own. "I think we might try one thing that might work; we---oh, Damian, DO stop looking at that thing! (for she had noticed a slight vagueness creeping into her colleague's eyes). I think--now where was I--oh, yes. Perhaps a variation of something like the Bubble-Head Charm might be effective for a start. We need to try to contain the thing somehow; then perhaps some sort of warming charm might cause the good to separate from the bad. Try to re-create the Bain Maria I was using in the original experiment. The life-form already has the desire and impetus to rise up and away from the dross, it just needs some help." |
David kept his wand at the ready as he trailed the others, just in case whatever it was inside was moving quicker than they expected. It must be contained to this room no matter the cost, this he knew with grave certainty. He was quiet and watchful, trying his best to observe the entity in the corner without becoming absorbed by it. He could feel himself starting to stare, though, his eyes becoming glassy behind his spectacles. It was just so.... incredible.... what Jane had accidentally accomplished... should they really destroy it? "What if we keep a part of it, like a sample sized biopsy, in a jar, just to see how it atrophies?" It was like they (not him, David typically never engaged in foolhardy experiments) had created artificial life which should be preserved for posterity. And for other reasons. |
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"No," she replied, carefully keeping her eyes turned away from the creature. "If we can't separate out the evil that was stored in that book, there's no point in keeping this...experiment. It would be impure and useless for the next phase of the alchemical process." Jane was not sentimental about these matters, but she was anxious to preserve all those months--years, really--of work. And this process had been interfered with so many times already! |
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"INCENDIO!" His commanding voice filled the chamber as he thrust his wand in the direction of the shapeless mass. What he lacked in finesse he made up for with barely restrained power. A fierce burst of fire erupted from the tip of his wand, warming the air, and lighting up the chamber. It was in this flash of light that they saw the true extent of the danger. The inky tendrils had been stretched across the outer walls of the chamber. Oily fingers reaching towards the door that the trio had entered from, wanting to cut off their only means of escape. Disappointment came in pairs as the flames rolled over the surface of the entity before fading into nothing. If it did anything, it certainly got it's attention. Without time to be crestfallen, Damian had to think before the walls closed in. "My mission, mister Truebridge; is to eliminate the threat of the amalgam. Jane's is to recover whatever is left of her experiments. And you to observe and report on this little misadventure. If you think we should take a sample, then perhaps we should consider it if there's something left." This was presuming that they could overcome the challenge ahead of them. "This is the last chance for you two to escape. If you stay, we see this through to the end." Damian had taken a step down towards the center of the room. "I think Jane's idea might work if we can get through the void membrane." Down at the bottom of the bowl, standing vigilant near the vale was Damian's ever-standing walking stick. It had been his constant companion when he first joined the Ministry of Magic, but as he healed from old wounds, he leaned on it less and less often. Today, the wizard needed it more than ever. "Give me a distraction, and I'll give you an opening." |
"I won't leave without trying to salvage something," Jane replied firmly. "Don't go too close to it, Damian--I want to try something first. The idea is not to heat it directly, but to try to enclose it first. Let's see if I remember how to do this..." Jane wrinkled her brow a minute, then flung out her wand and cast a complicated charm under her breath. A rush of sparkling, clear light spread out from her wand tip toward the...entity, or whatever it was, circling around to its very edges and surrounding it in a crystal-clear, starry sphere. "My!" exclaimed Jane, rather pleased with herself. "Take a look, Damian--did I get it all? Once it's enclosed, we need to focus the heat at the bottom of the sphere." |
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