Omnividence

Chapter Three: Out of Order

The room was dimly lit. Flickering candles and a low fire were the only points of illumination. The room seemed huge, or perhaps it was only that the light from the flames did not penetrate the shadows in the corner.

In the middle of the room, on what was almost a throne, sat something that was almost a man.

"Wormtail." The voice made the single word a command. A smaller, round figure came darting out of the shadows, to prostrate itself before the enthroned one's feet.

"Yes, my Lord?" quivered the smaller man's voice.

"You have found Karkaroff?" no inflection to the words gave no hint to whether or not the answer would please.

"Yes, my Lord. He was captured three days ago, but has only just been brought here." Wormtail flattened himself to the ground, in case this news angered his master. But his master seemed in a benevolent mood, all the more precious for its rarity.

"Bring him to me." Lord Voldemort gestured for Wormtail to rise.

After a few moments, another man, bound at the wrists, was brought in. Wormtail shoved him to his knees. "Bow!" he shouted, and he kicked the prisoner in the kidney.

"Desist, Wormtail. Time enough for that later," the Dark Lord sounded amused. He examined the man before him. Karkaroff definitely looked worse for the wear - his white hair and goatee were matted with blood and filth, his lower lip had been split against his teeth. It was too dark to see any other damage he might have sustained, but it was clear from the tight way he held himself that he was in great pain.

"Well, Karkaroff. You have lead us a long, merry chase." The cold voice was as merry as a funeral. "How is it that you managed to elude capture for so long? Almost two years, now, you have made me wait to punish you. How?" The figure leaned forward slightly towards the fettered man. "Tell me the truth and I may give you a painless death. Not that you deserve it." Voldemort settled back again.

"I had... a seer. A girl. An orphan," croaked Karkaroff from a dry throat.

"And knowing you of old, Karkaroff, I suspect that she became an orphan at a time most convenient for you." A sibilant sound, as of snakes in the grass - Voldemort was amused. "Go on, Igor."

"She was too young to tell me accurately what she saw. I put the Condividus Charm on her." Karkaroff took a deep breath. "She tried to stop seeing, tried to refuse to see. I put her under the Imperius curse."

"My, you've been a busy, busy bee," Voldemort said dryly, though he was entertained. Karkaroff had eluded him for far too long and his craven behavior now was most satisfying. "How is it then that you did not see us coming... or did something happen to your tame seer?"

"She... she must have thrown off the Imperius curse. The night I was captured she left." Karkaroff's face twisted into a snarl of impotent rage and frustration.

Voldemort steepled his hands together in thought, "Wormtail. Find me this seer. She might be very useful." He turned back to Karkaroff with an expression that was terrible in its utter implacability. He raised his wand and pointed it at Karkaroff. He spoke only one word:

"Crucio."

And he sat back to wait.

It took a long time for the pain to finally kill Karkaroff.

Harry woke the next morning with a splitting headache. He fumbled his way into the shower and then down to breakfast. He did not remember his dream.

Even though she had only been at Hogwarts a short time, Aliset had heard enough to be apprehensive about her first Potions class.

All the students, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, sat chatting together, but when the door crashed open, everyone fell into a sullen silence as Professor Snape strode in.

When he reached the front of the classroom, he glared out across the rows of students with obvious dislike. "This year we shall be studying poultices, that is, potions that are applied topically," he sneered at them. "It is probably too much to hope that you have all learned enough to be at all competent at this." He surveyed them in silence for a few moments, as though waiting for someone to dare speak up. "The ingredients for a simple burn-healing ointment are here up front. Two to a cauldron," he said shortly.

His gaze settled on Aliset, her face unfamiliar to him. He glanced at her hands. "Take those ridiculous gloves off," he snapped. "This is not a fashion show."

Aliset sat still. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I need them," she said, her voice low.

"Need them?" he repeated mockingly. "You are not going to use my class time for picking up boys, so what, pray, do you need them for?"

A burning sensation about the ears told Aliset she was blushing under the insult. "I need them, Professor," her voice held an ever so slightly ironic tone on that last word, "to keep from having visions. If my fingers are bare, I can't help it. And sometimes, I speak while I see." Her voice trailed off. The room waited, breathless.

Snape and Aliset held each other's eyes for a long moment. "Very well, keep them on," he muttered, going to his desk. "Five points from Ravenclaw, for not telling me about this before class," he added and he turned his back on her.

Kevin Entwhistle, who was usually incandescent when Ravenclaw lost points, leaned over and patted her sleeve. "Don't worry," he whispered. "It was worth it just to see him have to back down."

***

Aliset ended up partnered with Ernie MacMillan. As they added the goat spleen, newt tears, and lime seltzer, the brew turned a dull tan. "Blech," Aliset coughed slightly, the mixture was reminiscent of toxic waste, possibly of a septic nature. "It's supposed to be orange, isn't it?"

"Um. Yeah." Ernie frowned into the cauldron. "Yuck." His pudgy hand used the long, pewter spoon to prod whatever it was they had concocted that trembled, jello-like, at the bottom of the cauldron. "It's supposed to be a paste, too. Reckon we didn't use enough newt tears?" They both stared dismally into the tan depths. What would Snape say?

Wondering desperately if there was any way they could fix the potion, Ernie and Aliset became aware of a cold presence at their backs. "Apparently your talent does not extend to seeing the correct formula," Snape said with cool amusement, as delighted as a mortician after a massacre. "I explained the process repeatedly, did I not? Obviously, neither of you were paying attention. Five points off from each of you, to teach you to attend more carefully."

Aliset wanted to sink into the dungeon floor. Miserably, she avoided the eyes of all the Ravenclaws. That was ten points she had lost them in just one lesson! Between the humiliations of yesterday and today, perhaps she would have been better off wandering the forests of northern Europe. She could have been an oracle. Bleh, she could also have ended up as wolf-food. With a defeated sigh, she stuffed her quills, parchment and books into her bag, as class was dismissed. Could this day get any worse?

***

Ginny was on her way to History of Magic, when she passed the first floor girls' bathroom. She nearly ran into the wall with shock, as Moaning Myrtle poked her head through the door.

"Oh. It's you," said Moaning Myrtle, who had had occasion to meet Ginny during the red-haired girl's fateful first year. Ginny herself had not been in a position to remember much of anything, being possessed as she was by the memory of sixteen year-old Voldemort, nè Tom Riddle. Ginny preferred not to think about it, and was rather surprised she had even come down this corridor at all.

"I think you'd better come in," Moaning Myrtle sounded cheerful, always a bad sign.

Ginny bit her lip... she was going to be late. On the other hand, Professor Binns ran the risk of students joining him in ghosthood by dying of sheer boredom. The promise of missing a bit of class had to be worth something...

Myrtle beckoned to her again, a little flash of translucent white as she waved her hand. "You have to see this!" she insisted. No mistaking it, Myrtle was pleased about something, which could only mean something untoward had happened to someone else.

Ginny gritted her teeth, saying to herself, I am a fifth year and a prefect, and pushed open the door, the out-of-order sign swinging on its nail.

***

By the time she reached the first floor on her way to Charms, Aliset had stopped apologizing to the number of people she bumped into. Just as well, given that most of the students, speaking strictly hoc tempore, weren't there.

Her head bowed to avoid catching anyone's eyes, Aliset didn't see the out-of-order sign as she went into the girls' toilet. She did see something when she took off her gloves to wash her face and touched the tap on the sink at the end. There was an odd little etching of a snake on the faucet. For a long moment, she stood stock still. Her eyes filmed over, like vapor on glass. The past rose up in a roaring flame, reducing the present to smoke and blowing it away.

Moaning Myrtle watched with interest as the strange girl turned white and passed out, striking her chin quite hard on the sink as she fell.

***

"Are you okay?" Aliset heard a distant voice say. Small hands were shaking her, and a worried, but rather pretty voice was calling to her. Was she okay? A quick inventory told her to check her chin, but...

It had been the same voice that called to her now... it hissed something as it touched the copper tap, which glowed white and began to spin. The sink disappeared, revealing a wide pipe in the floor - big enough to climb into. Another voice, only dimly heard, a boy's voice, cracking with eagerness. "Hurry up, you silly girl! I have been waiting fifty years for this!" Where was the boy? The girl clutched a leather bound book in her hands... the voice was from there...

Now she remembered why she passed out. Aliset opened her eyes. Obviously this girl hadn't met her death under the school, otherwise she wouldn't be four years older. Or shaking her by the shoulder. Surreptitiously checking for loose teeth, she raised her head. The bathroom stayed in focus. She turned her eyes to face the red-haired girl. It wasn't precisely the same face from the vision... thinner, the cheekbones more prominent, the eyes wiser. The traces of childhood roundness all but gone. Aliset tried to speak, to ask her name, but shock spoke first.

"I... I... the sink..." Aliset pointed a trembling finger towards the battered porcelain basin, then buried her hands in her hair. "How... how on earth did you survive that?"

Ginny went pale and sat down hard on the grimy tile. How does she know? This must be the seer Hermione was talking about the other night. She felt chilled and nauseated at the idea of anyone knowing the details of what had happened her first year at Hogwarts. Ron and Harry had rescued her, and though Ron was her brother and Harry was... well, a hero, and though she had definitely not wanted to die in the Chamber of Secrets, it had been quite humiliating to be caught out being the tool of Riddle... even if it hadn't been her fault.

Ginny looked at the seer. Aliset had tried to sit up and cracked her head on the under side of the sink. Not impressive, really. Not in person. But if she could see what had taken place in this bathroom... very scary.

Aliset was pulling on her gloves. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long. Class has probably only just started. C'mon, I'll give you a hand up." She helped Aliset to her feet. Their hands lingered in each other's grasp a moment. "I'm Ginny Weasley. Gryffindor," she said shyly.

"Aliset Yasnavidashaya. Ravenclaw." She smiled tentatively at Ginny, and was warmly pleased when the other girl returned the smile, a little wan, but genuine. "Thanks," she said, after an awkward pause.

"Anytime," Ginny said, dismissively. "But I suggest avoiding Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in the future." Ginny's mouth twisted into a wry grin. A muffled exclamation from the toilet behind them told them Myrtle had heard. "I guess I'd better take you to the Hospital Wing. You look a bit odd around the eyes."

"I always look a bit odd around the eyes. It's probably a sign that I'm fine," muttered Aliset. She steadfastly ignored the way the room dipped and swayed a little. That wasn't normal - she doubted the school was ever bothered by earthquakes. "I'm sure I don't need to trouble you."

"No trouble at all," said Ginny. "In fact, it will be doing me a favor, since I'll have an excuse to skip History of Magic." She rolled her eyes. "Practically anything is better than that class."

Aliset grinned a bit nervously. "I'll be missing Charms."

"Don't worry," Ginny said, patting her on the arm. "Professor Flitwick is awfully nice and won't mind a bit. And Professor Binns won't notice I'm gone either. Now," she said, firmly. "We've just had a nasty shock, so let's go see Madam Pomfrey and she'll give us some cocoa and a bit of a lie-down."

***

The inseparable three; Harry, Ron and Hermione, took their seats in Professor Flitwick's classroom, ending up in a triangle-formation with Hermione as point and the boys flanking her. This way, they could all catch each other's eyes, without being too obvious about it; and Hermione could sit up front, something neither of the boys really wanted to do.

Neville sat next to Hermione. "Alright, Hermione?" The pudgy boy grinned.

"Alright. You?" Hermione had a soft spot for the awkward fellow-Gryffindor. Beyond showing off, she honestly enjoyed helping Neville with his lessons. Not that he was nearly as hopeless as the Potions Professor liked to make out.

Ron was twisting about in his seat. "Oi. Harry."

"Yeah?" Harry looked up from a diagram of the Quidditch pitch. He really had to get the team together soon for their first practice. He was also thinking of inviting some of the more likely looking first-years along, as he was hoping to have some of them try-out next year.

Ron didn't answer, because Professor Flitwick came in, hopped up into his chair, and called class to order.

The diminuative professor beamed at them. "This week we shall be studying memory charms - specifically, charms to both forget and remember. Today, we will be working on the Recent Memory Charm, which makes one remember the very recent past." He chuckled to himself. "Because most of you can probably remember your classes from yesterday, you'll mostly likely remember any dreams you have forgotten from last night." He smiled benignly at the class, who all looked rather alarmed. "Don't worry!" he assured them. "You don't have to share these memories with anyone else." The tiny Professor stood on top of his desk to better survey the class. "Now, we'll need to put you in pairs... Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, you'll be working together. Miss Granger, please work with Mr. Longbottom..." He quickly paired everyone off.

"Remember," the Professor chortled. "The incantation is ex memoria recens. You don't want to say the wrong thing and erase your partner's memory. Think what the other professors would say if you couldn't remember yesterday's lessons!"

***

"I'm not going to be forced to listen to you reciting yesterday's lessons, am I?" joked Harry. "I know you weren't paying attention in History of Magic. Boring enough the first time. And I'm not really interested in how many times you went to the loo."

"Shut up," Ron hissed, despite the grin tugging the corners of his mouth. He raised his wand, "Ex Memoria Recens!" and a bolt of yellow light caught Harry in the chest.

Harry staggered back, and the color drained from his face as though the charm had pulled a plug in his heart.

"Tell me the truth and I may give you a painless death. Not that you deserve it." Voldemort settled back again.

"I had... a seer. A girl. An orphan." croaked Karkaroff from a dry throat...

... Voldemort steepled his hands together in thought. "Wormtail. Find me this seer. She might be very useful." He turned back to Karkaroff with an expression that was terrible in its utter implacability. He raised his wand and pointed it at Karkaroff. He spoke only one word: "Crucio."

Harry's dream came flooding back. He stared blankly at Ron, who was looking at him in concern. "I need to talk to that new girl", he gasped.

Ron was still gaping at him. "What are you on about?" he asked.

Harry's voice fell low and serious. "I had a dream about Voldemort last night," he whispered.

Ron bit his lip and looked worried.

***

Class ended with most students giggling over their dreams from the previous night. Neville and Hermione were laughing over Hermione's dream of mad hobbits over- running the school. Neville's had been of rescuing his grandmother from a vat of boiling custard. Ron refused to disclose his, but Harry was pretty sure it involved scantily clad veela (and possibly a vat of custard as well).

Hermione watched curiously as Harry grabbed Ron's sleeve and dragged him off down the hall. She heard him whisper to Ron. "We have to find Aliset." Gritting her teeth, she started after them.

***

Aliset and Ginny parted outside the Hospital Wing. As promised, Madam Pomfrey had given them cocoa, as well as something for Aliset's splitting headache. Ginny waved and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. Aliset went off down the hall in the opposite direction. She turned the corner and ran headlong into someone.

They rebounded with a thud, and both fell to the floor mildly winded and stunned. Bleary, she looked up. It was that pale, blond boy from Herbology. Malfoy, wasn't it?

"Hello," he said, momentarily deprived of his usual drawl. "Fancy running into you here."

She just stared at him in disbelief. The look in his eyes grew concerned. "Are you all right?" he said, helping her too her feet.

Great. She thought, second time to day I've been knocked on my ass today. And the second time someone's dragged me up off the floor. "I'm... fine," she stammered. She dusted her posterior somewhat self-consciously. "You? Are you ok?"

"Fine," he said smoothly. The drawl seemed to have found its way back again. "I try to fall on the floor once a day whether I need to or not."

Aliset smiled at him uncertainly. He was a little strange. Of course, she wasn't one to talk.

"You still look a little shaky," he said. "I'll walk you back to the Ravenclaw commons room."

"Um. Thank you," she murmured. Argh, she ranted inwardly, I can't believe I'm struck stupid by a boy! How embarrassing.

"Not at all," he said smoothly and, to her surprise, he put his hand on hers and placed it on his elbow. Right fools we must look, she thought.

I'll bet we look really good together, thought Draco smugly as they proceeded down the hall.

***

After dropping Aliset at the Ravenclaw's door, Draco sauntered along feeling quite pleased with himself. Aliset was quite marvelous looking, he thought, with that Ceylon-grey hair that complimented his own silvery locks. Nevermind that the girl didn't seem able to string five words together. That was not what Malfoys were interested in. His good mood was slightly diminished when he saw Potter and the Weasel approaching from the opposite direction.

Harry barely gave him a glance - or would have, if he hadn't caught sight of a long grey hair on Malfoy's sleeve. Since it was unlikely that Malfoy had been cuddling with Professor McGonagall (a shocking thought that he tried to dismiss as quickly as it occurred), the hair could only belong to Hogwarts' new resident.

"Seen Aliset around, Malfoy?" Harry asked, affecting a casual tone. He was forced to use her given name, since never in a thousand years would he be able to pronounce Yasnovidashaya.

Draco glared at him, quite unnecessarily. "What if I have, Potter?" he said in that aggravating voice of his. "Fed up with Granger hanging about your tail?" He glanced down the hall, where Hermione, in fact, had just turned the corner. "Hm. Evidently not. Trying to be a playboy, then, are you? I'm afraid you're just not in that league. I, on the other hand..."

"Stuff it, Malfoy," said Harry, after one long, incredulous and furious glance at Hermione's approaching figure. She hadn't been this nosy in years. "Have you seen Aliset or not?"

"Of course, Potter," Draco said lazily, gazing absently at his fingernails. "At the Sorting Ceremony with everyone else. And Herbology." His eyes narrowed. "Or do you mean, did I have a lovely little stroll with her just now?"

"Malfoy, I'm going to count to zero..." Harry fists involuntarily clenched at his sides. He had to talk to Aliset, and quickly, while the details were still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to do the Recent Memory Charm again.

"Threats? Potter, you're pathetic," began Draco, just as Hermione strode within earshot.

"Hey," she said, glancing from Draco to Ron and Harry. "What's going on?"

The look on Malfoy's face was unbearable. Harry would just have to try and catch Aliset before dinner. But before that, he was going to have an earnest chat with Hermione and figure out just what the hell she was on that was making her behave so oddly. Then, maybe, he'd strangle her. And Malfoy. He glanced around the hall in sheer exasperation and stalked off to the Gryffindor Tower, Ron and Hermione in tow, while Malfoy's derisive laugh followed him all the way down the corridor.

***

Aliset sat on her bed, brooding. That Malfoy boy was certainly a self-satisfied one. Pity he was so good-looking. Thinking that there was no mileage in that direction, she decided to have a nap before dinner. She certainly could use one after a rather harrowing day. She wondered idly where Hugin and Munin were, and fell asleep.

***

She writhed futilely in the hands that held her. A face with a rakish goatee loomed over her.

"Silly girl," he hissed. "Hold still and it will all be over quickly." He thrust the point of his wand into the palm of her right hand and then her left. "Condividum conspectus vatae," he intoned.

She shrieked as flame blazed up from her hands. She was burning. Her screams went on and on as the sigils branded themselves onto her hands, their serpentine swirls black against her reddening palms.