Lies and Deceit Again, My Dear? - PortentProxy (2024)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Seven figures stood in a half circle in the musty basem*nt of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Most of the cleaning in the past couple of weeks had been focused on the upper floors to prepare the building for habitation. Conjured lighting lit piles of old stored goods that had been shifted along the walls to make room in the center for an elaborate chalk circle. A crisscross of lines terminated at the far northern edge over which a newly formed portal hovered. From the left where Sirius stood, he could see how its blue flickering played with the shadows on the faces of the others.

Dumbledore, in the center position, was watching the portal, waiting for the slightest hint of life. Others, such as Molly and Arthur, seemed more nervous. They’d been unsure if using a spell found in a library filled with such dark magic was a good idea in the first place. Privately, Sirius agreed with them. Memories of his family’s darker tendencies had kept him from looking too closely at many of the books they were sorting out. The consequences of dark magic were usually not worth the price.

Snape and Moody looked much calmer in contrast, but he could tell they were both wound up like a spring, vigilant and ready to fling spells at any second if this went wrong. Moody had been called in specifically for this. The year he’d spent in a trunk hadn’t done him any favours, but he’d recovered enough to be involved in Order business. In fact, he’d insisted on being involved. In most of the recent Order meetings Moody had been quick and eager to propose plans and shoot down ideas that wasted time. Sirius supposed that being stuck in a trunk for that long was pretty motivating.

As the last member of the half circle made eye contact with him, Sirius tried to give him a reassuring smile. Though Remus had also been hesitant about the idea, he understood just how desperate the situation had become.

Concern within the Order was rising as time passed and no evidence of Voldemort’s plans had been found. They knew he was plotting something, but with no news or strange movements from suspected Death Eaters, they were getting desperate for results. The Ministry had been ignoring and publicly condemning anyone who supported Dumbledore and Harry’s claim that Voldemort had returned. The upcoming school year was a pressing point as well. Dumbledore had so far been unable to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and it was only a matter of time before the Ministry stepped in and selected one themselves. It was possible the school could become compromised and there was nothing they could do about it.

Light flashed suddenly as something in the portal moved. Sirius snapped his gaze over just in time to see what appeared to be a rolled-up piece of parchment wave through the portal from the other side before it retreated. A couple of seconds passed before the seven individuals turned to face each other, bewildered.

****

Somewhere completely different, thirty seconds ago.

“You are not sticking your hand in that. We have no idea where it leads.”

Outstretched fingers paused, inches from the portal that had formed in their office a minute ago.

“Alright, fine. Hand me some parchment, we’ll see if it comes out intact.”

****

“It seems the spell is working as intended,” Dumbledore mused, a smile in his eyes. “There’s someone on the other side, but they’re cautious enough not to jump through immediately.”

Moody snorted. “Seems we got lucky that it’s someone with half a brain, but whether they actually come through is another story.” He took a more ready position, wand half up and primed to take action should their visitor prove to be hostile.

Further conversation was interrupted when a rat was thrown through the portal, skidding to a halt after a few feet and immediately trying to scamper off to the right side of their half circle. Molly jumped and muffled a shout, but quickly recovered once it became clear that the rat was unable to move much further from the portal. Looking closely, Sirius noticed that a thin string was tied around it, almost like a leash, to prevent it from running away.

Movement from Snape drew his attention as the professor crouched down to inspect the rat more closely. “It looks like a common rat. Possibly being used to determine if this side of the portal is safe to-“. He broke off as the rat was suddenly dragged back through the portal by the string.

****

Somewhere completely different, once again. one minute ago.

A squirming rat was floating in the air, fetched from the adjoining kitchen storeroom that hid the entrance to the Knights of the Shield office they worked from.

“Hold it still.” Grey fingers struggled to tie a string around the squirming creature.

“When I suggested testing the effects of the environment on the other side of the portal on biological matter, this is not what I had in mind.”

****

Dumbledore nodded. “Our visitor should be coming through soon then, if this last test if any indication”.

They waited another minute, and just as Sirius’ anxiety was beginning to rise again, a pale grey finger cautiously poked its way through the portal, before being pulled back. Another round of looks was exchanged, but before anyone was able to comment, a figure finally stepped through the portal.

****

Somewhere different, for the last time. Seconds ago.

“Can I take a look now?”

A long-suffering sigh heaved through the air. Healing potions clinked in clawed hands. “Yes.”

****

The first thing Sirius noted was that the colour of the individual’s skin was indeed a grey tone. He’d thought it a trick of the blue light at first, but upon being confronted with the figure in full, he realized that their assumptions about the recipient of their summoning may have been a bit misplaced.

The man standing in front of them was nearly as tall as Dumbledore, with long white hair. The similarities ended there. Pronounced facial features and lilac eyes surveyed the room. His posture was relaxed, but Sirius could tell he was scanning them for threats. The gleaming armour worn by their visitor was elaborate, although small dents and repaired sections showed that it had seen action in the past.

Almost everything he wore, from his boots to his gauntlets, was a monotone mix of blacks and greys. The pale gold embellishments on his armour stood out sharply and almost glowed in the dim light. A tall staff was in his hand, ornamented at the end with a brassy metal sculpture holding two glowing yellow orbs in place. The larger orb at the top was accented with elegant points that grew from the metal and the detailed head of some sort of feline or draconic figure.

The man finally looked directly at Sirius, completing his scan of the inhabitants of the room, and Sirius saw a flash of a winding tattoo flowing through his left eye, almost hidden behind the curtain of freely flowing white hair. The other side of his hair was braided back along the side of his head, revealing a pointed ear. Sirius had enough time to note the resemblance to depictions of elves in muggle fantasies before Dumbledore spoke, bringing the rooms attention to him.

“Greetings, I’m Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I must apologize for this disruption to your life, and thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

White eyebrows rose, and their visitor cleared his throat before speaking with a musical accent, a slight rumble punctuating some of his words. “This is certainly a new one for me. School of Wizardry you mentioned? Are these your students, then?”.

A sigh of relief was let out by some who had previously voiced concerns that there may be a language barrier to complicate communication with whoever they would end up summoning. Dumbledore smiled and continued, “Some have been my students in the past. At the moment we’re not acting on official Hogwarts business. This is a more… personal matter. This summoning,” he gestured around at the circle and portal. “Is designed to call upon a ‘champion’ from elsewhere to assist in times of need. I admit, this is our first time attempting it. We discovered it in an old family library, and the description was missing some parts.”

The man sighed. “So, this is totally random? You didn’t target me or anyone else in particular?”

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “We weren’t even sure if this would work.” He began a rehearsed explanation of their situation, starting with their current problem, the Ministry’s lack of belief in Voldemort’s resurrection. The headmaster only got a few sentences in before the man held up his hand, indicating for Dumbledore to pause.

“Give me a moment, before we discuss this further. I need to let my partner know that I’m alright, He’s waiting for me to check in with him.” He stepped back to the portal and leaned forward on his staff to push his head through. After some seconds, he turned back around with a smile on his face. “We’re willing to hear you out; he’ll be joining me eventually,” he indicated the portal with a jerk of his head. “Right now he’s calculating the planar coordinates that this portal connects to so we can open another one, should we need to. Or something like that. Not my strong suit really.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Please let me know if it’s on a limited timer. If you close it on purpose, well,” his smile sharpened. “We would have to assume this is a kidnapping attempt, and that wouldn’t go over very well.”

The threat hung in the air for a second before Dumbledore nodded. “A wise precaution to take. I assure you; we have no motivation to force your assistance, should you decide against offering it. We will keep the portal open.”

“Wonderful! I’ll have to check back again in ten minutes or so, but I am eager for that explanation now. Based on what we’ve deciphered so far, wherever this is, it’s not a plane of existence I’m familiar with.” He stepped forward to shake hands with Dumbledore. “Sorry for not introducing myself earlier, by the way, I’m Kronnis Teken’rret, Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

Their guest, Kronnis, looked around the room expectantly, and Sirius realized that no one else except for Dumbledore had given him their names. They’d agreed that the headmaster would lead any potential ‘negotiations’, but given that they had no way of knowing how the interaction would go, they’d all been observing with bated breath. Anxious and hopeful that the headmaster would be able to gain the support of this so-called champion, and afraid that one wrong comment would ruin their chances.

A round of introductions followed, and Kronnis nodded to each member in turn. The atmosphere of tension in the room began to dissipate at the more casual conversation.

When they finished, Dumbledore spoke up again. “Yes, I believe we come from very different worlds indeed. I’m well versed in the magical creatures and people of our planet, but I’ve never heard of one such as yourself. Forgive an old man’s curiosity, but what manner of creature are you?”

“I’m a drow. We’re not commonly seen on the surface. Perhaps you might be more familiar with the terms deep elf or dark elf?” Seeing their blank looks, he continued, shrugging. “It’s possible your plane doesn’t have a population of drow.”

“The only elves we have around here are house elves, and they’re much smaller, only about two to three feet tall.” Sirius chimed in, showing with his hands roughly how tall Kreacher was.

Kronnis’ lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting. That raises just as many questions as it answers, but I think an explanation is in order first, before I derail this conversation further to compare our demographics,” he laughed.

Dumbledore nodded. “I’m sure we’ll have time to compare notes in the future.”

Sirius watched Kronnis curiously as Dumbledore restarted his explanation, covering the course of the last war and the return of Voldemort. The drow’s face had shifted into a frown, and he’d interrupted with some questions to clarify certain points, requesting definitions on muggles and other wizarding terms. Sirius had no idea what a lich was but from how concerned the man seemed to be about the potential of Voldemort being one, it didn’t seem like a good sign.

After Dumbledore finished, Sirius exchanged nervous glances with other Order members. Kronnis had requested some time to contemplate what he’d been told. Hope was palpable in the air, as their ritual seemed to have been successful, but there was no telling if this stranger would be able or even willing to assist them. Did he have a family to get back to? Some other crisis to deal with at home? And there was still the lingering question; he may have been a champion and hero chosen by the ritual, but could they trust him? Sirius’ thoughts shifted darkly to Pettigrew.

He was broken out of his brooding when Kronnis spoke again. “It sounds like the first problem you need to address is getting proof that Voldemort is back. Once your Ministry has proof shoved in their faces they’ll be forced to react. Best to provide the information to the public as well, so there isn’t a choice in the matter. It’s possible there are Death Eater agents embedded in your government to prevent a response, or to sabotage their efforts.”

Sirius found himself nodding along, thinking about his own botched trial. There were so many suspected Death Eaters still walking free that he would be surprised if none of them were currently involved in Ministry matters, and it was likely that some had been left free due to supporters working behind the scenes in the Ministry.

“I’m not sure if playing bodyguard for this Harry Potter boy would be the best use of my time, but that can be discussed later. I assume you have some plan in mind.” Sirius must have missed that part of the conversation while he was lost in his thoughts. Protecting Harry should be his job. He ached to ask the headmaster again to let him go to Hogwarts during the school year, even if just in his animagus form. Dumbledore had denied him every time the subject was brought up, and had made it clear that the risk was too high for Sirius. They were both well aware that he would handed over to dementors and kissed if caught.

“Investigating and figuring out how to permanently kill Voldemort is definitely something we can do. I’ve dealt with undead before,” Kronnis smiled. “Killed this one guy who came back to life after a hundred years. He’d bound the immortal daughter of a goddess to himself, resulting in his own functional immortality. Watched him pull an axe out of his neck once, pretty potent stuff. Not sure how Voldemort managed to come back but I have some ideas on how to figure it out.”

That was… surprising. And a bit suspicious that Kronnis apparently had experience in a frighteningly similar situation. But perhaps the summoning spell really did have a way to hone in on a champion that actually had the skill set to help.

Kronnis continued. “I’m a powerful sorcerer myself, but wielding magic seems to be a common ability here, and I’m not sure how our magic would interact. I’ve some skill in the mind arts as well – do you have similar practices here? It’s possible this won’t work if they’re not as compatible as I hope, but I could peer into the minds of individuals that you suspect are working with Voldemort, use that to gather proof, and track down the rest of his network, following the breadcrumbs so to speak. That should eventually lead us to someone who knows how he came back to life.”

Sirius had been getting more hopeful, but deflated upon hearing this. He noticed Snape shaking his head, opening his mouth to reply. “I doubt that will work,” Snape dismissed in a drawl. “Voldemort is a powerful Legilimens and is skilled in Occlumency as well. Legilimency is the practice of reading minds, while Occlumency is used to shield the mind against intrusions through Legilimency. These are not common skills, but I doubt Voldemort would entrust any valuable information to a Death Eater that is not talented in these arts.”

Kronnis looked thoughtful. “That would make this a lot harder.” He looked at Snape, then swiveled his gaze around the room. “How many people are trained in these arts? I could try it out now to see how our abilities match up. My partner is actually much better at this than I am; the best in the city by a long shot.”

Snape exchanged a hesitant look with Dumbledore. “I am skilled in both. We can put this matter to rest now. Try to enter my mind.” As much as Sirius hated to admit it, Snape was an accomplished Occlumens, second only to Dumbledore himself in those of the Order.

A brief stare down ensued. Both Kronnis and Snape had gone completely still.

Seconds ticked by before Kronnis suddenly began spouting random words. “Blue. A potion. Some sort of flaming bird. Seven. A broom. A woman with red hair.” With each phrase, Snape seemed to grow more and more frustrated. Sirius realized with surprise that Kronnis appeared to be calling out what Snape was thinking about.

Abruptly, Snape held up his hand. “Enough. I see our methods have some… slight disconnect. You’re somehow able to get past my shields, but I could feel the touch of your mind as you searched for information.” He seemed thoughtful. “This could be helpful in gathering information, but it would be difficult to do so undetected. We would need to test this further with others of varying skills to determine the limits.” Sirius privately thought that it must have pained Snape to say that.

Kronnis seemed satisfied. “I’ll take it as proof of concept. My partner can test it with you at a later time – his touch is much more precise than mine will ever be.” He turned back to Dumbledore. “I should update him again. If he’s willing, I think we could stay here and help out. To be honest this seems like it’ll be a fun break. I’m getting a bit sick of playing politics back home. We’ve spent the past five years getting the city back in order after taking care of the Absolute – long story that I’ll have to share later – so I think the dukes can deal without our help for a while. I’ll see if Wyll can look into some of our affairs while we’re gone.” His last words sounded like private musings, plans distracting him.

“Oh, and obviously we’re going to need something in exchange,” he focused back on Dumbledore, “but given that this is a whole new plane, I think having access to and being taught about your system of magic would be enough.” His gaze turned to Snape. “Your potions seem fascinating as well, ours aren’t nearly as complicated.” Snape didn’t look nearly as enthused as Kronnis appeared to be about this.

As the drow turned back to the portal to speak with his mysterious partner again, Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He’d tempered his expectations, not expecting someone to drop their own life just to help them, but it seemed Kronnis was getting more excited about this with each new piece of information he learned.

Kronnis only spent slightly longer than before with his head through the portal before he turned back to Dumbledore. “My partner is packing up some of our supplies now. We’ll probably have to go home a few times to make sure our affairs are being handled – need to make sure Duke Portyr isn’t going to try to pass a ban on wine from his competitor in Watergate again, you know how it is.” He seemed to find his inside joke very amusing.

“Excellent! I’d like to extend my sincerest gratitude, and I believe I have a solution for your request to learn about our magic.” Dumbledore beamed. “As headmaster of Hogwarts I can invite you onto school grounds. With the school year starting in a few weeks, you’d be able to sit in on classes and have full access to our library. It’s the most extensive in the British Isles. In the meantime, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t mind you digging through the Black family library here. We’re currently cleaning it out but you’re welcome to keep any books we intend to get rid of,” he offered, catching Sirius’ eye.

“Oh, yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem, I was probably going to throw out half the library anyway. Too much dark magic for my tastes, and I don’t want the kids getting into some of those books.” Last week Sirius had found a book containing some very detailed descriptions of a flaying curse. Anyone willing to get books like that out of his library was welcome to them. “Unless Dumbledore has other plans, I think you’ll be staying here with me for a while?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” the headmaster nodded, “I believe that would be best. We use this building, number 12 Grimmauld Place, for our Order meetings. It belongs to Sirius and is protected against intrusion by powerful magic. Until the school year begins, Harry and his friends are staying here as well.”

Kronnis nodded knowingly, a wry smile on his face. “I see. I suppose it will be good to get to know Harry, seeing as you seem to have talked me into those bodyguard services after all. We’ll make sure to keep an eye on him at Hogwarts.”

The surprise arrival of a wooden crate floating through the portal and falling to the floor silenced the conversation. Kronnis quickly strode over to pick it up and move it to the side. “That would be some of our supplies. Not sure how much he’s going to send through, but he’s probably almost done packing by now.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore continued. “We can prepare some rooms for you; I believe it’s almost time for dinner as well. You can take some time to settle in tonight and then we can have an Order meeting tomorrow to introduce you to everyone else.”

Molly straightened up. “You’re right, I should finish preparing dinner! Arthur, dear, could you set up two rooms for Kronnis and his partner? I set up laundry in the third bedroom on the second floor.”

“Actually, we’ll be fine with one room.” Kronnis interrupted them before they could make their way to the stairs. He was carrying another box that had arrived as Molly was speaking.

A pause, then Arthur nodded and confirmed which bedroom to prepare before he and Molly left the basem*nt.

Some sacks were… tossed? Levitated? Through the portal next. Kronnis suddenly stopped and turned as he was carrying them to the side. “You know, we totally forgot to discuss demographics. You don’t have drow or many types elves here, and you’re all humans as far as I can tell. Does your secret wizard society only let humans in? Do you have orcs? Tieflings? Halflings? Gnomes?”

Looks were exchanged between Sirius and Remus. “Wizards and witches are humans, with the exception of some mixed individuals like half-veela. I’ve never heard of tieflings but I don’t think we have orcs or halflings in our world. Gnomes are garden pests here,” Remus explained. “As far as muggles are concerned, only humans are intelligent. We know that there are other magical species that are intelligent, such as centaurs, but they mostly keep to their own societies. Aside from goblins and house elves, we don’t have many others that mingle with us.”

Sirius saw concern spread over Kronnis’ face. “Really? In Baldur’s gate there isn’t a single race that dominates the majority. There might be more humans and half-elves than most others, but even tieflings make up about six percent of the population. Halflings another nine, gnomes maybe eight. Some races like hobgoblins are a bit rarer but you’ll still see a couple.” He dumped the bags. “I suppose that explains why you were so curious about my race, it might be a bit harder to blend in here than I thought.”

Unsure looks were passed around as they realized the problem. Moody broke the silence. “We would’ve had to figure this out eventually. If you walk around in the middle of Diagon Alley you’ll be the center of attention. We didn’t have any solid plans because we had no idea who or what this spell was going to try to summon. A foreign diplomat of some sort might still work, but you speak English almost too well.”

“English? I thought we were speaking common.”

“We call this language English here,” Sirius commented.

Kronnis hummed. “I can see how this may be a problem.” Hesitation flickered over his face, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know if he should. “Out of curiosity,” he started, and Sirius could tell he was feigning casualness. “Do you have mind flayers or illithids here?”

Sirius did not like the sound of anything that was called a mind flayer.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a creature with that name.” Dumbledore offered.

“I guess that’s probably the better answer,” Kronnis said. “My partner is a mind flayer, but I think I’ll leave that for him to explain.”

No one said anything for some time. Another box was sent through the portal.

Sirius dared a question to dissipate the strange silence that had settled into the room. “Mind flayer. Is that name connected in any way to his supposed skill in reading minds?”

Kronnis shook his hand from side to side. “Ehhhh, not really. Maybe? I’m actually not sure where the name originated.” He walked back to the portal. “If you don’t have much variety in your society, I’d better go tell him to bring his disguise. It’ll still be obvious that he’s not human, but there’s not much you can do about that. Should at least avoid some questions and make him seem more like a curiosity than… well.” He didn’t continue the thought.

As Kronnis stuck his head back into the portal, Sirius took the opportunity to mumble to Remus. “He needs a disguise back where they come from as well?”

Remus shrugged helplessly. Their attention turned back to Kronnis as he backed away from the portal with an armful of scrolls and parchments. These were swiftly piled up on top of one of the boxes. “He’ll be through in a minute. Told me he was just speaking with Duke Ravenguard about upcoming meeting dates to see when they might need our input on things.”

“Ah, yes. I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to accompany me to the Ministry next week,” the headmaster inquired. “Harry has a hearing coming up and I believe this would be a great chance for you to see the Ministry building, as well as meet and potentially scan the minds of suspected Death Eaters. I’d also like to arrange a meeting with the Minister for you. I think our best plan at the moment would be to pass you off as foreign visitors from a very secluded magical enclave. The Minister will surely be interested in meeting with you, if only to ensure that I am not gathering allies to act against him.”

“Excellent idea, I’d love to see this Ministry building myself, and I’m sure we can pull a lot of information from the Minister. Maybe figure out a way to influence him into working with us.” Kronnis seemed about to say more, but something in the portal moved again.

A large figure floated through, towering over everyone in the room. Sirius thought Kronnis’ armour was elaborate before, but what this creature was wearing dwarfed it both in size and detail. Spikes grew from the shoulders to arc into the air. Every inch of the surface was covered in an organic looking pattern of divots filled with a purple substance. The bottom half morphed into a robe that opened in the front for mobility. Magenta-colored gems studded the armour and shone in the light. But what drew his attention most were the four coiling tentacles, each longer than his arm, that erupted from the bottom half of the creature’s face.

Sirius stared in horror, taking a step back in shock. The spikes of the armour framed an elongated head, lilac in colour, and the creature’s glowing purple eyes looking around the room. Eventually they settled on Dumbledore, still standing in the center of their now broken half circle.

“Greetings, you may refer to me as the Emperor.”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The words were spoken in his mind, reverberating inside his skull unlike anything he’d heard before. It had rumbling tones similar to Kronnis, but seemed to carry almost tangible hints of calmness, curiosity, and confidence.

Sirius’ own confidence in this plan was quickly diminishing again. Kronnis was one thing, he at least appeared mostly normal, aside from some minor cosmetic differences. The Emperor on the other hand? Sirius had never seen anything like him.

Dumbledore was the first to recover. “I assume you must be Kronnis’ partner?” His eyes moved between the creature standing before him and the drow who was now rifling through the most recent box to have been brought through the portal.

“Correct. We work together in Baldur’s Gate, mostly dealing with various players involved in the economy and politics of the city.” The Emperor seemed unconcerned with the attention focused on him. Sirius could see Moody’s wand arm twitching and hoped there weren’t about to be spells flying in his basem*nt.

Kronnis suddenly looked up. “Oh, Dumbledore already invited us to go see the Ministry by the way, you’re definitely going to want to wear your disguise for that one. Can’t go walking through a government building dressed like that. Not sure how they’re going to feel about you walking around the house.” Purple and lilac eyes stared at each other for a moment, and Sirius felt like he was missing out on some sort of conversation.

A thoughtful humming echoed through his head as the Emperor turned back to Dumbledore, his tentacles swaying with the motion. “The Ministry would be a good starting point to begin gathering intelligence. You may have to give us some information on wizards with suspected loyalties to Voldemort, otherwise we will simply have to read the surface thoughts of everyone we see in the hopes of finding a connection.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I can prepare that for you. However, we’ll have to test your abilities to see if your plan will work. Perhaps tomorrow? I see I won’t have to explain the situation to you again, as Kronnis has already shown you everything, am I right?”

Oh. So they were speaking to each other. Being able to read minds suddenly seemed very convenient.

“Perceptive.” Glowing purple eyes crinkled, into what Sirius thought might be a smile. “Yes, he shared his memories with me. I am aware of what was discussed earlier. Anytime tomorrow should be fine for a meeting. We have too much to discuss to cover it all tonight.”

“Excellent. And I take it the portal can be closed at this time?”

The Emperor nodded his permission, and the headmaster took a moment to chant the words that cancelled the spell. The portal winked out of existence.

“Now, I believe you have a room prepared for you. Given the late hour, perhaps it’s best if we break for dinner.” An apologetic look formed on the headmaster’s face. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to return to my other duties, but as your hosts, Sirius and Remus will be available for any questions you have.”

As Dumbledore excused himself, Snape and Moody following him out of the basem*nt. Sirius was left awkwardly standing before the two strangers.

Remus cleared his throat, taking the initiative. “I think… maybe it would be best if you changed into this disguise you mentioned, or something else a little bit smaller?” He gestured to the Emperor. “Not to be rude, but I’m not sure the house will survive your armor walking through it for more than one careful trip.”

Personally, Sirius didn’t mind the idea of the Emperor’s armor ripping some priceless family paintings off the walls. On the other hand, trying to navigate the tight hallways with him would be a challenge seeing as he was almost nine feet tall. The floating probably counted as cheating though.

The Emperor nodded in agreement. “Perhaps you can show us our lodgings?” He waved his gloved hand, and the boxes and bags they’d brought with them took on a faint purple glow, floating upwards to hover in the air much like how to Emperor himself was currently levitating.

“Do you need any sort of magical focus for that?” Remus questioned, looking at the floating boxes. “Or are your gauntlets magical items? We have a charm to levitate objects, but I’d need to use a wand to cast it.”

“Any sufficiently powerful illithid can levitate and freely use telekinetic powers. They are innate to our species.”

“Huh, that’s handy.” Sirius waved them towards the stairs. “I’ll bring you up to the room. We can introduce you to the rest of the house on the way.”

They trailed behind him as he stepped out of the basem*nt. On the way to the second floor, he stopped by the kitchen to let Molly and Arthur know that they would be in for dinner soon. A short introduction followed, made slightly difficult by the small frame of the kitchen door. Surprising Molly with the Emperor’s appearance helped Sirius feel more like himself again, and suddenly he felt eager to move on, already planning how he could play that joke on other residents of his house.

Just upstairs they ran into some trouble, having to walk in a single-file line through the tightest hallway of the house. Some careful maneuvering was needed to get both the stack of boxes and the Emperor through stretches where a chair or display case was taking up space in the hall.

The commotion brought some attention to them, and soon one of the doors ahead of them opened. Sirius was greeted with Hermione’s face as she craned her neck to look behind him. “What’s going on, are there other Order members staying with us?”

“No, well… I suppose yes actually. They’re new.”

Kronnis, who had been following behind Sirius and guiding the procession of boxes, squeezed in next to him. “Hey, sorry about the noise, we’re used to bigger buildings where we come from. I’m Kronnis.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, taking in his abnormal features. “Hermione.” She shook his hand, seemingly tongue tied all of a sudden, but Sirius could tell she was struggling to decide which question to ask him first.

Before she was able to figure it out, more figures crowded at the door behind her.

“Bloody hell, who’re you?” Ron spoke, staring directly at Kronnis. Harry was close behind, flicking his eyes curiously between Kronnis and the floating boxes behind him.

“I’m Kronnis.” He appeared amused at having to introduce himself again, shaking Ron and Harry’s hands. “We’re visitors from the next plane over.”

“Plane?” Harry parroted.

“Plane of existence. Think, hmmmm… a different dimension?” Kronnis explained. “We’re here as a favor to Dumbledore.”

They only stared back at him, clearly bewildered.

"So, this… plane… you say you come from," Hermione raised hesitantly, "is everyone there like you?" Her tone made it clear that she couldn't quite believe what she was asking.

"Oh, no, there are tons of races where I come from. You guys really seem to be lacking in that department, I've been told most people in your society are humans." Kronnis then began another long-winded explanation of the population demographics of Baldur's Gate.

“Excuse me, I believe we were going somewhere?” The Emperor’s voice jolted Sirius back to attention.

“Who was that?” Harry demanded, his hand shooting up to his head. “Did you hear that too?”

“That’s my partner, the Emperor,” Kronnis said. “He doesn’t exactly talk like we do, doesn’t have the right mouth for it. You’ll meet him, but we need to be getting down this hallway to drop off our stuff first.”

Ron’s baffled face was looking back in the direction of where the Emperor was hidden behind the floating boxes, his lips silently repeating the phrase, ‘the right mouth’.

“Right, we’ll see you later at dinner. Molly said it was almost done earlier. Let the twins know as well if you see them.” Sirius mourned the loss of this chance to introduce them to the Emperor, but with the way their conga line was set up, the boxes would be blocking his own vision by the time the mind flayer was in view of the doorway.

Harry grimaced. “We might be a bit late, Hermione’s helping us finish this transfiguration paper.”

“If you’d done it last week when I first asked about it, we wouldn’t be worrying about it now!” she shot back.

Sirius closed the door to muffle their argument and moved on, finally arriving at the correct room. “This should be it.” The door opened easily and he led Kronnis inside, the boxes and the Emperor following close behind. Stepping back to allow them space, he joined Remus outside as they moved their belongings into the room. “We’ll be down in the kitchen, come join us once you’re settled in or you’ll miss dinner.”

The Emperor fished some black cloth out of one of the bags, assuring him that they would be down shortly once they’d changed into something a bit more comfortable.

Sirius left them to it and followed Remus back to the kitchen, desperately hoping that some of the firewhisky was still hidden in the cupboards.

“I don’t believe it, what on earth was that?” Molly demanded immediately upon their entrance.

“A mind flayer apparently, whatever that is. He and Kronnis are both going to be staying here until the school year starts,” Remus replied.

Sirius walked to the cupboards in the corner of the kitchen to retrieve his drink of choice. “Kronnis explained a bit more about his world after you left. They have a lot more races walking around than we do. Their cities are filled with elves, gnomes, dwarves, and something called a tiefling.”

Molly shot him a dirty look as he poured himself a glass. “It’s a good thing I cooked extra, I wasn’t expecting two of them, or for one of them to be so large.”

“Can you imagine how surprised we were when he came floating through the portal?” he huffed.

Arthur chuckled, rooting around in another cupboard to collect plates. “I’m glad we at least have some help. Kronnis seemed capable enough, and I suppose we’ll see about the Emperor.”

The arrival of the subjects of their conversation at the door startled them. Sirius had figured it would take them longer to change out of their armor, but they’d both donned new clothes.

Kronnis was wearing a loose white shirt tucked into form-fitting brown pants. The Emperor had changed into black pants and some sort of long black tunic that draped down past his hips. A belt was fastened around his waist, and a hood was pulled down to just above his eyes. His frame seemed a lot smaller without the armor, and Sirius realized that he was actually standing on the floor for once instead of floating, costing him a couple of inches.

“Perfect timing,” Molly said, ever the gracious host. “Please, have a seat.”

They settled in together at one end of the table, the rest of the adults joining them.

Molly levitated the food and plates to the table with a wave of her wand and gestured at them to help themselves. Sirius was several bites into his potatoes when she spoke up again, offering to fill the Emperor’s plate.

When Sirius looked up, he saw that she was holding her hand out expectantly. The Emperor was sitting back in his chair, just as relaxed as when he first sat down. None of the tableware set out for him had been touched, and he made no move to pick up his plate.

“I appreciate the offer, but I will not be eating with you.”

“Is something wrong with the food? I can cook something else,” she quickly offered, concern clouding her voice.

“I am sure there is nothing wrong with your food,” he reassured her. “My diet is rather specific.” A pause. “I suppose we would enjoy some wine if you have it.”

Arthur exchanged a look with his wife before getting up to fetch the requested drink. He returned with a cup for both Kronnis and the Emperor.

The table resumed their meal, an uneasy silence hanging over them. While Kronnis seemed to have no problem with the food and was already halfway through his wine, the Emperor appeared lost in thought. He swirled his cup absentmindedly, making no move to drink from it. Long legs were crossed, and his left hand rested on his knee. Sharp claws tapped thoughtfully.

Eventually, a voice pierced the tense atmosphere. “Is there nothing we can offer you to eat at all? If you tell me what you need for your diet I can go shopping and organize it for you,” Molly offered, her words taking on a frantic edge. It seemed she was not willing to let the subject go, or let anyone get away with not eating at her table.

A deep rumbling sigh echoed through their minds. “Mind flayers do not eat regular food.” The Emperor gestured with his cup to the meal laid out on the table. “We are not quite… humanoid like you are. We may have a similar body plan, but that is mostly a consequence of how we are… created.” The creature seemed to be struggling to choose appropriate descriptions. “Our bodies’ process of assimilating nutrients works differently from yours, and requires specific materials to sustain them. The three components of my diet are hormones, enzymes and psychic energy, without which I would waste away.”

The mind flayer’s roundabout and evasive way of addressing the subject stirred suspicion in Sirius. He had no idea what enzymes were, but the other two requirements mentioned caused a sense of unease to fall over him. The flash of sharp teeth hidden away at the base of the Emperor’s tentacles had been a mild curiosity before, but those images were now pushed to the forefront of his mind.

The clinking of silverware slowed as interest was piqued. Even Kronnis had set down his utensils, sitting back to fiddle with his hands instead.

Remus spoke up. “How would those be physically ingested? Is psychic energy something that can be passively absorbed?”

“That is the most difficult part, everything else we need could be substituted through other means. Internal organs, for example, are good alternative sources of hormones and enzymes. All of these components are, however, found in abundance in brain matter.” The casual tone used by the illithid seemed to become a bit more hesitant, and his tentacles twitched before stilling in an unnatural way. “In our world, mind flayers are well known and feared for eating the brains of intelligent life forms. It is the only way to obtain the psychic energy we need.”

Horrified looks were starting to bleed onto faces around the table. Suddenly shaky, Sirius’ hands slowly dropped to his wand. As he grabbed it, he felt the weight of glowing purple eyes on him. They were calm, almost as though the mind flayer was completely sure of its safety after revealing its monstrous nature. And why wouldn’t it be? If what it said was true, its species was designed to feed on them. Perhaps even engineered, if the comment about being ‘created’ was to be believed. It was a predator amongst prey. A wolf walking among sheep that had no idea of the danger they’d been in.

Mind flayer. How obvious in hindsight. And Kronnis’ strange behavior when he’d asked if anyone knew what a mind flayer was suddenly made sense. Although his willingness to ally himself with his own self-admitted predator was another mystery.

“Is this a trick then? You’re not here to help us? Are we just a new source of food for you?” His whole body was shaking now, staring down the monster he had let into his home.

“No. Everything I said was the truth. I do intend to help you, so long as you permit me to. I plan to take care of my diet privately; we have an arrangement with Wyrm’s Rock Prison in Baldur’s Gate to take the prisoners destined for execution off their hands. I have no intention of killing a single person in your world to sustain myself.”

“How do we know you’re not lying to us? That you’re not going to eat us one by one?”

“If that were the case, why would I not just lie about my diet?” Clawed hands spread apart, the monster shifting into a more open position. “By telling you the truth, I am showing that I can be transparent about myself and my motives. I had planned to inform Dumbledore at our meeting tomorrow, but I did not wish to lie to you if asked directly.” Purple eyes shifted their focus to Kronnis for a second before meeting Sirius’ gaze again. “Past experiences have shown that, sometimes, being upfront with details is worth the risk.”

The sheer absurdity of the situation faintly registered in Sirius’ mind. “So, what? You just have potential murder victims on standby? Lined up and ready eat? How do you even know they’re guilty of whatever crime they’ve been thrown into prison for!?” He was shouting now.

Tentacles curled in on each other. “As part of my previously mentioned arrangement, I assist in judicial matters. Mind-reading is a very handy skill when determining guilt and remorse in criminals, although I am not often called upon to look into petty matters. It is in my best interest that judgement is laid down appropriately.” His eerie voice grew stronger, becoming more passionate. “I care for the city and have been working for the past five years to help rebuild it after recent disasters nearly saw it destroyed. Those that would bring harm to Baldur’s Gate waste our resources, damage the economy, and bring suffering to its citizens. I have spent centuries of hard work guiding politics and commercial affairs in the city, and will not have my work be undone.”

A light touch on his arm startled Sirius. Remus looked at him with a cautious expression and he realized that he’d been clinging to the table with a white-knuckled grip, wand awkwardly pinned between his hand and the wooden surface. This argument had begun to strike a bit too close to home.

“Let’s take a minute to breathe. Molly, would you mind standing outside and making sure the children don’t come in for a bit? We’re going to lock the door and silence the room so they don’t overhear anything.” Remus’ voice was calming enough that Sirius was able to release some of the tension in his shoulders and sit back in his chair.

Molly’s faintly green face nodded and she quickly moved to leave the room, closing the door behind her. Arthur applied a locking charm and silenced the room, cutting them off from the rest of the house.

As Sirius collected his thoughts, he noticed that another silent conversation was occurring between the Emperor and Kronnis. A five-fingered hand rested on a black-clad arm. Meaningful glances were exchanged.

“In our alliance, the only downside to you would be the knowledge that, in a different world, the Emperor will continue to sustain himself during our trips to manage our own affairs,” Kronnis began soberly. “You’ll still have our assistance. As he mentioned earlier, we weren’t planning on killing anyone in your plane for this purpose. If you don’t agree with this we can leave, and you’ll be free to continue with whatever your previous plan was.” A pause as he looked at each of them, his even voice compelling them to listen to him. “I suspect that none of you are in a position to make a final decision on behalf of your group as a whole. Let’s speak with the headmaster tomorrow, as planned, and we’ll come to a consensus then.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like having you in my house. What makes you better than those you kill?” Sirius demanded. “What makes your life worth more than theirs?” He saw Arthur nodding a couple of seats down.

“Do you truly believe no one in your Order has killed before, in the previous war? You are about to be in another one.” Sunken eyes held his own. “Ethically, I agree. There is no right choice to be made here. The fact is that for me to continue my existence I must consume the brains of intelligent creatures. Do I not also have the right to survive, as a sapient being myself?” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I admit, I am selfish, and I do value my life more than others. That is not to say that you are wrong in your own opinion that my life may not be worth more than anyone else’s, but who is the right person to judge the worth of lives? No mere mortal could measure up to such a task.”

“Eating people’s brains is different.” The argument was starting to sound weak even to himself.

“Not everything is black and white. The world is filled with shades of grey. I understand that my inherent state of being is conflicting with your morals. You may be familiar with death and murder in conflict, but consuming other intelligent beings is a common taboo in societies.”

A long pause. Sirius was unsure how to respond to someone so willing to admit that they might be in the wrong. As the Emperor spoke, thoughts of Snape came to mind. He hated the man and was well aware of his past as a Death Eater, but he was still willing to work with the potions master and trusted Dumbledore’s judgement in keeping the man involved in the Order.

“I will keep this information to myself for now, and only speak about it with Dumbledore and those involved in the meeting tomorrow. I believe it is best if we refrain from informing the younger members of your group about this detail. I understand you are keeping a great deal from them yourselves,” the mind flayer offered.

Remus drew their attention to him as he spoke up. “I think that sounds reasonable. To be honest, I don’t think any of us will ever be entirely comfortable with this, but to some extent I can understand your predicament.” He hesitated, his voice seeming smaller as he continued. “I don’t like to talk about it much, but I’m a werewolf. We’re rightfully feared by wizards. Most days I’m a normal human, but on the full moon I transform into a horrible creature with no control over myself. Werewolves have been known to kill friends and loved ones; most wizards would never associate with one.”

Sirius gave Remus a sympathetic pat. His thoughts wandered as he absentmindedly listened to their guests engage his last remaining friend in a discussion on different kinds of shapeshifters.

Something still boiled within him, screaming about the aberrance of the creature sitting in the kitchen with him.

Their arguments made sense, as much as he hated to admit it. Nothing they’d done so far had accomplished much of substance. The Ministry still had its head stuck in the sand, blind to the looming threat. They were left waiting for Voldemort to make the first move. The only thing they’d been able to do was persuade old Order members to listen and prepare. Adding new, unexpected pieces to the board was exactly what they needed, and their new allies’ proposal to follow the trail of secrets hiding in the minds of Voldemort’s supporters had its merits.

He would wait and see. Their behavior had been more or less acceptable so far. He supposed he should consider the Order lucky that their societies didn’t differ too much. The risk of summoning someone who would be gravely offended by aspects of their culture had been a problem that was brought up multiple times. They had plenty of examples of such societal conflicts in their own world, ranging from complicated religious disputes to something as simple as dietary preference.

Although, he thought with a dark sense of amusem*nt, it turned out that their main source of cultural conflict might boil down to differences in diet after all.

A knock on the kitchen door broke him out of his thoughts. Arthur, sitting closest, got up to cancel the locking and silencing charms before opening the door for Molly to poke her head in. She took a brief look around and let relief show on her face once it was clear that most of the tension had dissolved. “The kids are here for dinner now, is everything all right?” she questioned in a hushed voice. Sirius could hear the low din of conversation outside the kitchen.

“Yes, I think we’ve finished our discussion.” Arthur inclined his head to the corner of the kitchen, where a walk-in pantry was situated. “I’ll fill you in.”

Molly ushered in the kids in. A slight pile-up of startled teenagers formed in the doorway as their eyes found the Emperor.

Sirius was suddenly less enthusiastic about introducing them to the monster now residing in his house. “Sorry about the wait, we had some things we needed to discuss.” His vague explanation brought their attention to him. “The food should still be warm.” He gestured for them to sit at the table.

There was some hesitation regarding seating arrangements. While they shuffled around to fill their plates, Molly and Arthur returned from the short, whispered conversation they’d shared in the adjacent pantry.

Once everyone was seated, Remus took over. “I’m sure you all have questions. This is Kronnis and the Emperor.” The pair waved as they were introduced. “They’ll be staying with us until the beginning of the school year, and then staying at Hogwarts as visitors after that.” He went quiet as the children slowly introduced themselves in turn.

One of the twins spoke up once all introductions were made, addressing Kronnis. “Ron really wasn’t joking about you looking like a muggle fantasy elf.”

A bark of laughter came from Kronnis. “I’d love to see what these fantasy elves look like; I hear the only real ones you have are called house elves. Bit of a strange name. I’m a drow, specifically, which is one of the elven subraces where we come from.”

Sirius grimaced. “I’m sure you’ll meet Kreacher later, he’s likely lurking somewhere. I inherited him along with the house, he’s my family’s old house elf. We don’t really get along very well.”

The Emperor gestured upwards with his untouched cup of wine. “I sensed a very hateful mind on the upper floors earlier. I believe I have met everyone else in this house now, would that be him?”

Sensed? “You can do that? Probably. He resents me because I didn’t get along with my family. He was fanatically loyal to them.”

Harry awkwardly spoke up, the first to gather the courage to address the Emperor, rather than just steal glances at him. “Um... Your Majesty, sir? Kronnis told us you were from another plane earlier, so what are you doing here exactly?”

Kronnis snorted, trying to hide his smile behind his empty cup.

Purple eyes crinkled in amusem*nt. “You can just address me as Emperor. I am not actually the Emperor of anything, it is more of a nickname given to me a long time ago when I began leading the local group of the Knights of the Shield, the largest mercantile organization of Baldur’s Gate. The Order contacted us through a spell which was able to tear a hole in reality, connecting our planes of existence. They asked for our assistance against Voldemort.”

“What are you going to do? No one will tell us what’s really going on, only that the Ministry doesn’t believe that he’s back.”

"We're having another meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow," Kronnis answered. "The Emperor and I are both skilled in mind arts, so we offered to snoop through the heads of suspected Death Eaters for information on Voldemort's plans. And we can assist in other ways as well." His hands came together and a swirling globe of sickly greenish-yellow energy was summoned between his fingers with a wet splash. It seemed to ooze and drip, but any drops that fell from it dissipated before touching the table below. “I’m a powerful sorcerer myself.”

Hermione perked up. “Is that wandless magic? I thought that was supposed to be very difficult to learn.”

The globe of energy dissolved. “I think our magics work differently. There are many ways to wield magic in our plane. From what I can tell, your society is some sort of blend of sorcerers and wizards, and there is a distinction between the two in my world.” He hurriedly added the last part before Hermione could utter the question that she had opened her mouth to ask.

“The short version is that sorcerers like myself are born with an innate talent for magic. We instinctively know how to manipulate it to cast spells. Wizards, on the other hand, need to study and learn how to manipulate magic. Some are more talented and learn faster, but it’s a very different method. Anyone with enough intelligence and drive to learn can become a wizard. I’ve been told your secret society tends to inherit the ability to cast magic, being born with the power as sorcerers are, but must still study and learn spells like a wizard would. Is that an accurate description?”

Remus nodded. “That’s mostly correct. Sometimes magical children are born to non-magical parents, and there are rare cases of a child from a magical family being born without magic.”

“Interesting,” Kronnis mused before turning back to Hermione. “Back to your original question, since our ways of manipulating magic differ, it stands to reason that our methods of casting spells would also be inconsistent. Your society may have used wands for millennia, found this to be the best way to use magic, and never innovated.” He shrugged. “I’m sure there’s been studies on this to look into.”

“I’ll have to do some research in the library tomorrow. I can’t believe I never thought to read about this before.”

Harry was the next to ask a question. “What do you mean by mind arts?”

The Emperor leaned forward. “Abilities that influence the mind and thoughts. My species is especially skilled in these, although Kronnis has picked up quite a lot through… accident.” A huff from the drow. “I am currently using telepathy to speak with you, projecting my thoughts into yours. Reading the thoughts of others is just as simple to me, should I wish it. There are other applications as well. I could send out a concentrated blast of psionic power to stun enemies, or use telekinesis to move objects around as I please.”

Ron seemed horrified. “Wait, you can read our minds?” He grasped his head as if to protect himself.

“I could, but I usually stay out of the minds of others, unless I have a reason to look.” The mind flayer sounded amused. “Wizards here seem to have their own versions of these abilities. Kronnis tested how compatible our methods are earlier with a man named Snape, I believe.” He went on to explain the experiment that had been conducted earlier.

As the Emperor was speaking, Sirius noticed Kronnis picking up his empty cup of wine. He reached for the matching cup the Emperor was holding, the creature briefly flicking his gaze over to their hands before allowing Kronnis to switch the cups in a practiced movement, his voice carrying on in their minds uninterrupted.

Sirius leaned in while Kronnis took a long sip of his newly-acquired wine. “Does he not drink either?”

The drow shook his head, inching closer. His voice lowered as though he were gossiping. “He could, usually doesn’t though. He just likes to hold a drink like a prop, makes him seem more approachable.” A smug smile played on his lips. “He only asked for two so I could have two.”

Sirius stifled a laugh. “It seems as though you’ve run this con before.”

“Years of practice,” Kronnis shot back.

Another question from Hermione caught their attention. “You mentioned before that this was a talent of your species, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard about any magical creature like you. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you?”

Alarm shot through Sirius. He jerked up in his seat to reply before the Emperor could identify himself as a mind flayer, potentially giving away his true nature. “An illithid.” The room was quiet as several sets of eyes stared at his sudden interruption.

“Yes, I am an illithid,” the Emperor broke the silence, casually drawing the attention to himself again. “My species almost exclusively lives in hive-mind colonies in the Underdark, a large subterranean cave system that encompasses most of the planet. We are not common amongst surface-dwellers.”

“That’s amazing, so the Underdark is big enough to house your entire civilization?” Hermione asked.

Kronnis chuckled. “It’s big enough for more than one civilization. Drow come from the Underdark, as well as duergar, deep gnomes, dwarves, and kuo-toa. There are whole city-states.”

“You both come from the Underdark? Is that how you met?” Ron looked between them.

“Ha! If we’d met in the Underdark one of us would probably be dead,” Kronnis laughed. “Really funny story actually, we’ll have to tell you the full version some other time though, it’s a bit long. Short and condensed version is that, due to certain circ*mstances, myself and several others were looking to cure ourselves of an… affliction caused by a group of mi- uh, illithids that had captured us,” he stumbled over his words but managed to correct himself.

“This group of illithids were recovering a specific artifact that had the power the disrupt an illithid hive-mind, which would have been a horrible weapon if used against them. The Emperor, who was with this group, was close enough to the artifact to be freed from the hive-minds control and realized it was his ticket to freedom. The artifact had a pocket dimension where the effect originated from, so he hopped in to investigate.”

“We were aboard the nautiloid ship that was transporting this group of illithids when it was attacked and crashed. My group of companions ended up in possession of the artifact. One of the effects of the affliction that we suffered from made us vulnerable to the hive-minds control as well, and the Emperor used the powers of the artifact to keep us safe while we looked for a cure.”

A grin formed on his face as he leaned in before resuming his story. “He spoke to us from the pocket dimension to guide us, appearing in our dreams. But not as his natural illithid form; he used an illusion to hide his race from us. Rightfully so too, we never would’ve trusted an illithid at that point. The form he used was a gith, a race that’s been in conflict with illithids for millennia.” Kronnis stopped his story and looked over to meet the Emperor’s eyes expectantly.

For a few seconds nobody said anything, but the mind flayer finally sighed and waved his hand. A shimmer overtook his form, and when Sirius blinked, a different creature was sitting where the Emperor was a second ago.

Dull, yellow skin covered this new form. Intense green eyes with slit pupils sat in a face that would have been handsome, if not for the upturned nose and the scars dragging down from his lips to his neck. Black spots arced over his brow, checks, and chin. Pointed ears, not too unlike Kronnis’ own, soared into the air, framing a dark mohawk of dreadlocks that cascaded down his back. The black tunic and pants were replaced by shining gold and red armor.

“I selected this form because I believed he would be more likely to trust someone he perceived as the natural enemy of the illithids he had escaped from.” Sirius startled as the Emperor spoke, not in his mind like he was getting used to, but with a smooth voice that carried through the air. “Eventually, due to complicated circ*mstances, I was forced to abandon the illusion. By then, Kronnis and our friends were more willing to trust me, and we continued working together to resolve their affliction and save Baldur’s Gate from the illithid threat.” The illusion faded away, and the Emperor’s previous form sat before them once more.

Arthur looked confused. “Wait, if you can cast illusions like that, why are you going to bother with a physical disguise here?”

The Emperor slowly shook his head. “There is a risk that I will have to drop the illusion in order to use my full focus for other matters. I mentioned that I was forced to abandon it; that was because I was being attacked in the artifact’s pocket dimension. I had to call Kronnis into the artifact to assist in defending the mechanism that shielded us against the hive-mind, but keeping up the illusion during combat takes too much concentration. I opted against using it. Illusions can be helpful in certain situations, but are too risky to rely on for the duration of our stay here.”

“In hindsight, it was really funny to come face-to-face with a bunch of tentacles instead of the form I was used to. I was kind of miffed about getting catfished at first, but we got over it pretty quickly,” Kronnis added.

Hermione made a weird face at that, furrowing her brows and silently looking between their visitors.

Sirius interrupted with his own question. “If you were with those illithids, why did you want to get away from them?”

“I was not with them out of free will. When I was first turned into an illithid, I was liberated from my colony by a close friend and brought back to Baldur’s Gate where I resided for a long time, free of the Elder Brain’s control. Eventually I was discovered and dragged back to be a slave once more, until my mind was freed by the power of the artifact.” The Emperor halted his explanation for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “My species’ culture is very complicated – too complicated to accurately explain tonight.” A meaningful look was sent towards the adults in the room. “Perhaps another time would be better.”

There were some very concerning comments scattered throughout his explanation, but given what Sirius had already discovered about the Emperor, it would probably be best to agree with his subtle request to wait until they were in private once more before delving deeper into what seemed like the most horrifying culture he’d ever heard of.

“Right, it’s getting pretty late anyway. We have a long day tomorrow, best to get some rest.” Sirius waved his wand to begin levitating empty plates to the sink.

Their visitors agreed and excused themselves before heading upstairs, with the children following soon after. With that, Sirius was left alone with the other adults as they finished cleaning up the kitchen.

Arthur broke the silence. “It’ll be interesting to see what they think of our culture. I can’t imagine what their world must be like, non-magicals and wizards living together.” Excitement bled into his words. “I’ll have to ask what sorts of technology they’ve developed.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if their technology isn’t as advanced as what the muggles have come up with. I didn’t get a look at anything they had in their boxes, but their clothes looked a bit old-fashioned, something you might expect from a couple hundred years ago,” Remus pointed out.

Molly finished levitating the clean dishes into the cupboards. “You can ask them tomorrow at the meeting, I’m sure they’d hate to explain their world multiple times. Poor things have already had to repeat themselves a couple of times today.”

“I just hope there isn’t a fight at the meeting,” Sirius said with a frown, thinking about all the heated topics they would have to bring up. “I’ll admit, I hope they stay. Those mind-reading abilities really could help. I’d love to see the looks on the Death Eaters faces once they realize they’ve been caught with their pants down.”

Remus laughed with him. “I doubt it’ll be as easy as plucking Voldemort’s location from the first Death Eater they see.”

Sirius rolled his eyes as he headed to the door. “A man can dream.”

And dream he did, his night filled with fantasies of Death Eaters being arrested and thrown into Azkaban. The shrill screams that still haunted him punctuating their torment.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Curious faces met Kronnis after breakfast the next morning. Order members slowly filed into the dining room, which doubled as the preferred meeting place for the organization.

It quickly became clear that the subject of their arrival hadn’t been common knowledge among the group yet. A small man by the name of Mundungus Fletcher had amusingly let out a strangled shriek at the sight of the Emperor and eyed him with a shifty look for the remainder of the meeting.

The reactions of others varied. Nymphadora Tonks, who preferred just Tonks, showed a great deal of excitement at their presence. The young witch almost stumbled over a chair in her rush to sit next to Kronnis. She soon surprised him with her peculiar ability to change her appearance at will, reminding him of Orin’s Doppelgangers. While they waited for the meeting to begin, she entertained herself by mimicking his features, letting him critique the colour of her hair and the shape of her ears until she got them just right.

Dumbledore eventually called the room to order, and explained how Kronnis and the Emperor had come to assist them, for the benefit of those who did not seem to be aware of yesterday’s plan to summon outside help. He turned the floor over to them, and the Emperor took charge to launch into an explanation of who they were and what they brought to the table. In contrast to the tale they’d told in front of the children the previous night, this time they didn’t leave out any unsavory details, opting only to censor irrelevant private moments.

Starting with a crash course on the true nature and diet of mind flayers almost brought the entire endeavor to an early end. Luckily, Sirius and the other adults living at Grimmauld Place were willing to vouch that they’d behaved themselves with no problems so far, calming the room enough for them to continue.

Kronnis subtly dispelled the prepared casting of Fireball he had been ready to launch into the middle of the room, had things truly gone beyond their control.

Expressions of horror and disgust had morphed to include some level of pity once the Emperor explained illithid culture in more detail. Hivemind control was strategically likened to slavery, which was seen as a barbaric practice in this world. Although, Kronnis couldn’t help but be reminded of the house elf that Sirius mentioned he had ‘inherited’.

They managed to avoid an additional ethical argument by reframing the illithid tendency to dominate the minds of others as being a tradition of Elder Brain colonies. The Emperor’s unfortunate history with Stelmane was only mentioned in passing as a close business relationship.

Over the past five years the Emperor had opted to change his own personal methods, rarely stooping to the convenience of enthralling individuals. A subtle charm, suggestion, or illusion tended to be enough to gain the upper hand in most negotiations, with mundane threats serving their purpose as needed. They preferred to maintain an amicable relationship with those few in the city that knew the truth of the Emperor’s presence and identity. Gratitude for saving Baldur’s Gate certainly went a long way to smoothing over certain perspectives.

A comprehensive and clinical explanation of the process of ceremorphosis followed, with emphasis placed on how none of the hosts typically selected to undergo the process were willing participants.

By the time the Emperor finished explaining his personal struggle to retain his freedom, the Order looked ready to accept him as an ally. A victim of circ*mstance, rather than a monster liable to attack them at any moment. There remained, understandably, a healthy amount of lingering suspicion, but Kronnis could see this alliance working out in the long term.

Remus in particular had again professed words of solidarity with the Emperor’s situation. Words that, outwardly, he was thanked for, but Kronnis’ private connection with the emperor buzzed faintly with the mind flayers indignation at being pitied for what he considered to be an improved state of being.

After that, they spent several hours regaling the group with their story of adventure, answering questions on customs and clarifying context as they went.

Eventually, a discussion to explain the differences between their magic was brought up. Demonstrations were performed by both sides. Being mostly combat-focused, Kronnis stuck to cantrips and simple spells like Darkness. Favorites such as Fireball and Chain Lightning were only explained in as much detail as was possible without actually casting them.

The Emperor had then tested his skills in thought-probing. Snape had only briefly been able to feel his touch, commenting on the subtle alien sensation of a foreign consciousness reaching deep into his shields. Dumbledore, on the other hand, claimed to have felt the Emperor’s mind brush against his several times. His shields stood strong against attempts to subvert his defenses.

Given that they had been prepared and on the lookout for intrusions to their minds, it was decided that anyone besides Voldemort himself would be unlikely to notice anything amiss. The Emperor was given the green light to rummage to his hearts content, so long as he stayed politely out of the heads of other Order members.

Once the group felt comfortable working with them and had a basic grasp of their skillset, a plan of action was debated. Ideas were brought up, shot down, or planned out. Politics were explained, light research was done, and arguments were had over secrecy. Kronnis felt as though he had never left Baldur’s Gate, although at least no one was arguing about some tax legislation currently being drafted by the Parliament of Peers.

It was decided that their best move would be to get the Emperor into contact with some well-connected people, and start siphoning information out of them. The Order could look into leads on Voldemort’s plans and followers, and hopefully they would eventually find enough proof to rally the magical world for another war.

A falsified backstory was crafted over the course of the afternoon. They would pretend to be from a secluded enclave of magic users that went into hiding centuries ago. Blending information from their actual background, they had located an extensive cave system, the Optymistychna Cave in Eastern Europe, to act as the home of the civilization they were inventing.

It would be easier to keep track of half-truths rather than outright lies, so the Underdark was being used as inspiration for details on daily life. Their cover story would paint them as ambassadors from a culture that was looking to make contact with the outside world again, chosen due to their influence and renown in their fake version of Baldur’s Gate.

Their reasoning for spending the school year at Hogwarts would be that they had heard whispers of a magical tournament during their initial exploration into the surface world, and turned their eyes towards the school where it was being held. The fact that Harry had won the tournament, bringing honor and glory to Hogwarts, helped strengthen the idea that they were interested in Hogwarts in particular.

They had then contacted the headmaster, who agreed to host and assist them with navigating Wizarding Britain, in the lingering spirit of international cooperation. The school would be an ideal place for ambassadors to learn about wizarding history, culture, and the differences between how their magic developed.

The Emperor drafted a letter to send to Cornelius Fudge, requesting an audience with the Minister for Magic under their new guise as ambassadors. The prospect of manipulating the man to further their own goals was tempting, as his cooperation would open doors and solve several of the Order’s problems.

Dumbledore had warned them that they would have their work cut out for them. Apparently, the Minister held quite a bit of animosity towards the headmaster, being under the assumption that he was out to steal his position. They’d have to tread carefully, coming across as neutral as possible to avoid giving any indication that Dumbledore may have already managed to sway them to his side.

In the coming days they’d be accompanying the headmaster to the Ministry, hoping to be allowed into Harry’s disciplinary hearing. Something about how he’d used magic outside of Hogwarts, which was illegal for underage wizards. A load of rubbish, in Kronnis’ opinion, but who was he to question another worlds laws. Dumbledore seemed to have a plan, and the old man was cunning enough that Kronnis wasn’t particularly worried for the boy.

Their proposed meeting with Fudge would hopefully be scheduled after that, and they anticipated that their presence during Ministry affairs would tempt other political players into reaching out. Through these people, they could filter through political and personal connections to find potential targets that might hold knowledge about Voldemort’s current activities.

It was late in the evening by the time Kronnis opened the door to let them into their room. The Emperor immediately moved to the desk, intent on penciling in a rough schedule for them, planning ahead for when they would need to return to Baldur’s Gate to manage their affairs, and whittle down the criminal population.

Kronnis himself flopped down onto the two single beds they’d pushed together, grumbling about how this was starting to look less like an adventure, and more of an infiltration mission.

“I am glad you convinced me to go along with this,” the Emperor’s voice caressed his mind, distracting him from his thoughts on the day-long meeting he had just suffered through. “After dealing with Voldemort we should have a powerful new ally in the wizards of this plane. An exclusive trade agreement between us should be easy to arrange, once we determine what would be worth trading for.”

Kronnis laughed. “Of course, you know my intentions all along were to enhance our commercial endeavors.” A light-hearted, mocking tone had entered his voice halfway through, mimicking the Emperor’s speech pattern.

The mind flayer chuckled at his sarcasm, shared mirth bubbling in their minds. “You will have your chance for excitement, I suspect defeating Voldemort will not be as easy as simply locating him.” The bed dipped next to Kronnis as his partner joined him, sitting on the edge. “His supposed return from the dead is concerning. We do not know enough about this planes magic to determine if he will simply rise from the dead again if we eliminate him. Dumbledore said that the ritual Harry described was not familiar to him.”

“We should have a chat with Harry,” Kronnis suggested. “There has to be some link between him and Voldemort, and from what they told us about the last couple of years, I’d say that curse scar is pretty damn suspicious.”

A hum thrummed through his head. “I agree, a good place to start while we wait to speak with the Minister. We can see if he is available tomorrow.”

Kronnis sat up. “I’m pretty sure they’ve just got the kids cleaning and doing homework until the school year starts. He’ll probably jump at the chance to do anything else.”

Their conversation died down, a comfortable silence settling into their minds.

“It is exciting, being somewhere new,” Kronnis admitted after some moments. “Extremely new. From the sound of it, no one’s ever been to this plane before.”

“We could be the first.” The thrill the Emperor felt at the prospect was undeniable, leaking through to Kronnis’ thoughts.

He looked up, watching with delight as ambition brewed in his partners eyes, slick avarice burning in the mind behind them. The Emperor’s scheming tendencies had always been one of his most attractive features. “What an opportunity…” Whispered words trailed off as he swiveled his body to plant a leg on the other side of the Emperor’s thighs.

From Kronnis’ new position, balancing on his knees, he was almost able to meet heated purple eyes on the same level. “The world is at our fingertips.” A feather-light touch on the mind flayers chest punctuated his words. The tentacles he’d gently pushed out of the way twitched, spreading to climb his arms and wrap them in a tight grip.

Leaning in, Kronnis pressed himself into his partners mind, breathing into the crevices of an alien brain. “See what’s yours and take it.”

Sharp claws settled possessively on his hips, clenching dangerously at the way his words stirred the Emperor’s thoughts. “Are we still talking about the same thing?” Patient teasing was betrayed by the underlying desire shared in their consciousness.

Kronnis barked a laugh. “Indulge me.” With a sharp push, they found themselves falling into bed, tentacles dragging him down with his partner.

The library seemed to contain endless clouds of dust. No matter how many shelves they cleaned, the next one they touched was sure to unleash another plague into the room.

Harry figured that Hermione was probably having a fantastic summer vacation, sorting through centuries old books. After Kronnis’ demonstration a couple of nights ago, she’d been looking for any material on the subject of wandless magic.

A creaking noise coming from the old library door drew his attention. Two sets of footsteps sounded on the floorboards. Someone called his name, and he recognized Kronnis’ musical voice echoing through the shelves.

“Yeah? We’re over here.” He wondered what the drow wanted with him. Dust was patted from his pants as he stood from the pile of books he’d been sorting through.

“Ah, there you are. We’re wondering if you have some time?” Kronnis strode around the corner of the shelves the trio was working on, the tall figure of the Emperor slowly trailing behind him. Some books were floating in front of the illithid, his eyes scanning them for anything of interest. “We wanted to take a look at your scar and see if we can figure out what’s up with it, apparently it causes you pain sometimes?”

“What happened to your face?” Harry blinked, distracted. An inch long scab slashed through Kronnis’ upper lip, and several other small cuts and pinpricks were scattered throughout his face.

Grey skin darkened. “…accident,” he evaded, his normally confident tone faltered. “Nothing a healing potion can’t fix once we dig them out of whatever box they’re in.”

The Emperor settled a heavy look at the back of Kronnis’ head, causing the sorcerer to freeze for a second before blindly swiping behind him to smack at the towering figure. Harry found it difficult to decipher the illithid’s emotions, given his inhuman facial structure, but the crinkled eyes and distinct lack of outrage indicated that he was probably amused by whatever silent exchange they had shared.

“Alright… I’m going to help finish this shelf and then we can talk?” Harry suggested, wondering how much they’d been told about his history with Voldemort for them to be asking about his scar.

“Perfect. You know where our room is, right? Just come over when you’re done.” Kronnis flashed him a smile before turning around to leave.

Lingering, the Emperor spoke up. “Would any of you happen to know where the discarded books are being kept?”

“We usually pile up anything that looks dangerous in the corner by the door, and then Sirius or someone else takes a look to see what to get rid of and what might be useful,” Hermoine advised.

“Ah, thank you. I will have to speak with Sirius then.” He then followed Kronnis out, the floating books discarded to telekinetically zip back to their places on the shelves.

The trio looked at each other once the door closed behind their retreating guests.

“I swear, they get weirder every day,” Ron muttered.

“Sirius told me that they can talk to each other with their minds, like a private conversation. It seems really convenient actually,” Harry said.

Hermione took that as her cue to jump in. “It makes sense. Being able to read each other’s minds would give them a two-way connection for responding to the others thoughts.” She hesitated. “They do seem really familiar with each other.”

“Reading people’s minds is still creepy.” Ron halfheartedly flipped open a book on the history of an old goblin war. “Do you want us to come with you Harry? Sounds more interesting than sorting all these dusty books.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll be fine though.” He picked up the stack of safe-looking books they had collected and lined them back up on the freshly cleaned shelf. “I’d better get going, should be back soon.”

“Don’t worry mate, always more books to sort here,” Ron called after him as he stepped out of the library.

Harry had barely waited a second after knocking before the dark door was opened, and Kronnis waved him in. “Come in! It’s a bit of a mess at the moment, haven’t had time to really unpack yet. I set up some chairs in the corner.”

He remembered when he had helped clean this room, shortly after his own arrival. It looked to have since gone through quite the rearrangement since.

Kronnis pointed him to a circle of three mismatched chairs, one of which appeared to have been stolen from the kitchen. They had been placed next to two single beds that were pushed together into a corner of the room. The space was rather cramped, and he had to carefully step past by the boxes that were piled next to the door. Sheafs of paper were stacked on the floor and covered the surface of the desk where the Emperor was working. He looked up at Harry and quickly sorted his work, tucking the pages into some sort of ledger, before moving to join them in the corner.

“Dumbledore told us your scar has a history of hurting when you experience visions or dreams about Voldemort,” the illithid began once they were all settled in. “Would you mind describing the experiences in your own words? Our abilities being so different from your own, it is possible we may have a new perspective on the matter.”

Harry nodded and explained how he’d had several intense dreams involving Voldemort last year, waking up afterwards with searing pain in his scar. It also flared up at the Quidditch World Cup, when the Dark Mark had been cast.

With some hesitation, he eventually reached the events that happened during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Speaking about Cedric was difficult, but they listened patiently as he struggled to relive the events.

Kronnis looked to be deep in thought once he finished. “I think Dumbledore is on to something. It sounds like there’s some sort of connection that formed between you and Voldemort, and the scar might be a conduit or tether linking you, in a way.”

A jolt of alarm shot through Harry. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

The Emperor raised his hands to placate him. “It is only one possibility of many.” A wave of his arm brought a scroll of parchment over to them from one of the open boxes. “Scrolls such as these store spells to be used at a later date. Anyone can activate them,” he explained. “This one contains a spell that can detect magic. We could narrow down our suspicions if we can determine what type of wizardry is affecting the scar - if it is magical at all. Do we have your consent to cast this spell on you?”

Harry’s mind still reeled from Kronnis’ comments. The thought of being connected to Voldemort terrified him, were his dreams really visions of what Voldemort had been doing? And if he could see what the dark wizard was up to, what was Voldemort able to see in return?

He nodded his consent, wanting desperately for this experiment to show that there was no link between him and the man who had killed his parents.

Kronnis grabbed the floating scroll, chanting words in an unfamiliar language. His eyes and hands glowed with power that soon washed over Harry.

The drow stared at him for several long seconds, pale eyes studying the faint light that now emanated from Harry. A frown formed on his face, grotesquely stretching the cut on his lip, as his searching gaze repeatedly stopped on Harry’s forehead. “It’s definitely picking up on your magical ability, that’s why your whole body is glowing,” he began. “And your scar… I can see a small pocket of necromantic energy contained within it.”

“What does that mean?” Harry’s eyes shot between the two of them, looking for clarification.

“Necromancy in our world is a school of magic that deals with the manipulation of life and death. Draining energy from opponents, creating undead, that sort of thing. Some spells can be helpful, I know of one that could be used to sacrifice some of your own health to heal an ally, for example,” Kronnis explained. “Though, this isn’t exactly a good sign.”

A wave of nausea swelled in Harry. That sounded like extremely dark magic. “Can you get rid of it?”

“We should figure out what it is first. Attempting removal before we know the exact nature of the magic involved could result in any number of negative outcomes.” His attention was brought to the Emperor’s intense gaze. “If this is the source of a connection between you and Voldemort, I could investigate it for any signs of harm to your psyche. Would you permit me to look into your mind?”

He hesitated at the suggestion. The idea that the Emperor could read their minds had been an unsettling revelation when they were first told about it. The illithid’s reassurances that he would respect their privacy helped ease everyone’s discomfort, but the possibility had lingered in the back of Harry’s head, an abstract concept that he had tried his best to ignore. Faced with the reality, he wanted to say no, but his desperation to know what was going on in his head won out.

“Please.”

The Emperor nodded. “You should not feel a thing, stay calm and breathe.”

The room went silent. Harry tried to calm himself as he continued to stare into the Emperor’s eyes, the lack of any sort of tangible activity nurturing a roiling ball of unease within his chest.

As time passed, the illithid’s prominent brows began to furrow. “There is… something. I have never seen a mind like this before… it is almost as if there are two people, two separate minds…” he trailed off, his attention focused elsewhere.

“What do you mean, ‘two people’?” Harry’s unease was quickly eclipsed by panic. Voldemort couldn’t be in his head right now, could he?

“It is not quite another person, more like… a sliver. I can sense your mind. It looks normal enough.” Harry supposed that was intended to be reassuring. “But this other mind, it is like a bundle of negative emotions orbiting your thoughts. I can tell it is separate from you, not natural to the environment in your head, yet attached and embedded nonetheless…” The Emperor sounded like he was very far away. “I can try to look deeper. It appears to have some level of agency. If I could determine its orig-” He broke off suddenly, jerking back, tentacles swaying with the motion.

Harry shouted and pressed his hand to his scar as his forehead began screaming in pain. The sensation passed after some seconds, however, and he looked up again, panting. “What was that?”

Kronnis and the Emperor exchanged a concerned look. “I believe… you may have a piece of Voldemort’s mind in you.” That was the last thing Harry wanted to hear. “There was a link, leading far away from you. Further than should be possible. Minds are usually self-contained within a creature.” Clawed hands began gesturing, illustrating his point. “I have seen entities with strange body plans that might cause their minds to be more spread out, so to say, but never a mind that seemed to be connected to another point so far away.”

There was a pause while the Emperor gathered his thoughts to explain further. “When I tried to follow the link, I did not realize it would lead so much further than I anticipated. The strain of stretching my awareness to follow it so far past my normal range was too much. I was unable to retain my focus on maintaining a light touch in your head. The foreign mind sensed my intrusion and retaliated with a burst of emotion. I apologize for the pain this caused you.” A regretful tone bled into the rumbling voice in Harry’s head.

“This… sliver in your head. Given that it stems from necromancy, it is possible that it may be a piece of Voldemort’s soul. It does not think like a fully sentient being would. It has no coherent thought process, just a churning sea of emotions. If I am correct, then it is not his complete self, but still a part of him. We will have to discuss this with Dumbledore, given that we are still unfamiliar with how necromancy and soul magic is wielded by wizards here.”

Harry nodded. An odd feeling of numbness had crept over him during the illithids explanation. He felt hollow, as though he were floating away from his body. It took him some moments to gather his thoughts. “I want to be involved. Whatever this is, it’s obviously dangerous, and I’m right in the middle of it. They keep saying we’re not allowed in Order meetings, but this is different. If Voldemort is in my head…” He broke off. “I need to know what’s happening in my head,” he begged.

“I understand. We’ll let you know as soon as we figure anything out,” Kronnis agreed. “Come to us if you ever feel strong negative emotions that seem out of place, or if you have another vision or strong dream about Voldemort.” The drow smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry that we didn’t have any good news for you, but at least now we have some information to start with.”

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

“You might see us in the library more often. With any luck, we may be able to find related information hidden away in the dark books Sirius intends to get rid of.” As he left the room, the Emperor’s voice echoed through his mind.

True to their word, Harry and his friends were soon joined by Kronnis and the Emperor in sorting through the library shelves. The next few days were spent cleaning the remaining bookracks, a task that went by much faster with the assistance of another two pairs of hands, as well as the convenient telekinetic powers of the Emperor.

The only book they’d found offering so much as a hint on soul magic was an old, tattered thing titled Magick Moste Evile. Kronnis had located a small blurb mentioning something about ‘soul containers,’ but the author was seemingly afraid to go into further detail on the subject, frustrating their search.

Hermione, on the other hand, had amassed a small collection of tomes on the history of magical research and the use of wandless magic. Sirius had already given her the go-ahead to borrow them during the school year.

The extraplanar visitors had left one day to speak with Dumbledore about their findings, but even he didn’t have concrete answers for them. Kronnis assured Harry that they would continue looking in the Hogwarts library once they had moved to the school, which at least somewhat settled his anxiety.

However, unease continued to linger in him. And soon enough, the day of his hearing had arrived.

Harry spent that morning pushing his breakfast around on his plate, stomach churning. The house bustled on in the background, but not even the headmaster popping in to transport their guests to the Ministry roused him from his dread.

Eventually, Mr. Weasley arrived to escort him. They made their way through London to the visitor’s entrance - a bright red muggle phone booth. As they were lowered down to the entrance, Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the energetic buzz permeating the crowd.

“Strange,” Mr. Weasley commented as they fought their way through groups of gossiping wizards and witches. “I don’t usually use this entrance, but I’ve never seen a crowd such as this before! Last time I was here there were a lot less people standing about.” His grumbling words were said for Harry’s benefit, but were angrily directed at a quartet of elderly witches planted in the main pathway. “The etiquette is to move away from the entrance as fast as possible, so it’s not blocked off like this.” His well-placed elbow opened a gap for them to slide through.

Harry caught snippets of conversation as they continued through the masses clustered in the entrance.

“Did you see?”

“Bunch of half-breeds no doubt. Can’t say I’m surprised to see Dumbledore leading them around.”

“With clothes like that? Finer than anything I’ve seen Lucius Malfoy wear. Handsomer too.”

“Those muggles in the old country wear veils like that, think they’re foreigners?”

“Can’t believe I missed them; I heard the cloaked one was three meters tall, and had glowing eyes!”

Once they had finally squeezed into an elevator, the thought occurred to Harry that the crowd must have formed earlier when Dumbledore brought Kronnis and the Emperor to the Ministry. He was well acquainted with how quickly gossip spread in the wizarding world.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Dumbledore was already waiting for them in the entrance of Grimmauld Place, out of the way of the morning bustle that came with having about a dozen occupants in one house.

Kronnis had opted to wear his finest coat from Facemaker’s Boutique. The delicately embroidered black jacket sat snugly over a dark red shirt. Silver thread and clasps shimmered as he moved, birds and leaves almost jumping off the fabric. Matching black pants and similarly patterned shoes completed the outfit.

It wasn’t as ostentatious as the attire other nobles in Baldur’s Gate were fond of, but that suited him just fine. First impressions were important, and if they were allowed into the chamber where the hearing would be held, he was not going to be sitting there in eye-wateringly bright colors.

The Emperor was wearing the same style of black tunic and cloak that he had been for the past several days. The faint pattern on the fabric exuded a sense of quiet dignity, which they had judged as just enough for the occasion, even if it were not as adorned as Kronnis’ own garb.

The only change in the illithid’s outfit was the veil hiding his face, completing his admittedly slightly transparent disguise. It would have to suffice. No one here would recognize him as a mind flayer if they caught a glimpse of claws and mauve skin, and a more otherworldly appearance could help sell their story.

They exchanged pleasantries with the headmaster and discussed the finalization of their plans for the day, having received an enthusiastic confirmation of their appointment from the Minister two days prior. Once they were prepared to depart, Dumbledore offered a robed arm and a warning. “Keep a tight hold, the experience may be a bit nauseating.”

Praying to Eilistraee that he would not vomit or otherwise make a fool of himself, Kronnis clasped a hand together with the Emperor on the headmaster’s arm. A pulling sensation hooked into him, and the world blurred away. His body momentarily felt like it was being stretched in an unfamiliar, sickening way before his sight reasserted itself.

The dusky interior of Grimmauld Place had been replaced by a well-lit and bustling hall. Black stones made up the walls, an interesting design choice, and he could make out the top of a glinting golden statue over the heads of the occupants. Wizards and witches strode by, clothed in dark formalwear and robes. He could see flashes of other creatures, two seemingly different species of goblinoid or elf-looking beings running to and fro between the legs of the much taller humans.

Dumbledore stepped forward and they followed, letting him guide them through the crowd. It took a couple of seconds, and some double-takes here and there, but soon more and more faces turned their way. Companions were elbowed and fingers began to point in their direction.

Kronnis knew the Emperor would never lose his composure over such a small crowd, but this amount of public exposure was by far out of his partner’s comfort zone back in Baldur’s Gate. Granted, if anyone caught sight of him back home and recognized him as a mind flayer, there would be riots and probably an attempted lynching. The consequences were not quite so severe here.

Regardless, they did their best to stand tall and ignore the attention. Whispers quickly began to reach his ears as people stopped to stare. Gossip about their appearance was spreading like a wildfire.

“It appears that the public is split on their opinion of Dumbledore,” the Emperor whispered in his mind. “Most believe the propaganda published in the Prophet, thoughtless sheep that they are, but being headmaster of the only wizarding school available to the local population has earned him deep-seated respect.”

Kronnis touched his mind to his partner’s. Tenuous as his half of the connection was after the death of his tadpole, he was still strong enough to project thoughts and emotions, as well as reach into the ever-teeming brain of the Emperor. “Sounds like the situation isn’t as hopeless as it first appeared. No luck finding anyone thinking things they shouldn’t be, I expect?”

“No. There are too many to sift through here. Unless someone has clear thoughts about Voldemort, I will not be able to determine if they are hiding an association with him.”

“Shame, was really hoping we’d stumble right across a lead and make this easy for ourselves.”

A chuckle echoed through his mind before retreating as they arrived at an unoccupied elevator, one of many lining the walls. As it descended, the floor rattled in a manner that Kronnis was not altogether comfortable with, but they arrived at their destination without complications. A voice chimed into the elevator to announce that they were now on level nine, the Department of Mysteries. A flight of stairs nearby allowed access to their intended destination, the level containing the courtrooms, which were another floor down.

The halls here were almost deserted, the lack of conversational din giving the structure an eerie atmosphere. Some cordial nods and greetings were exchanged with the few officials they passed. Confused looks followed them, but Dumbledore’s presence seemed to reassure them that they were here on official business.

The Emperor suddenly spoke in both of their minds as they followed the twists and turns. “The Minister is down the hallway to the left, speaking with a Lord Malfoy.” Recognition shot through Kronnis; Malfoy was one of the names mentioned by Harry when they had discussed Voldemort’s resurrection, identified when the dark wizard had summoned a group of Death Eaters to the graveyard. The man was pretty high up on their list of investigation targets.

“Ah, perfect. Let’s see if we can get you into the courtroom now.” Dumbledore turned down the hallway, striding confidently towards their now located goal.

Once they rounded the corner, Kronnis could see a portly man dressed in black robes and a matching hat. The shine of an elaborate necklace stood out amongst his unadorned clothes. Next to him stood a taller wizard with well-kept blond hair, aristocratic features, and a cane in his right hand. Based on the descriptions Harry had given them, the blond man was surely Lucius Malfoy, which meant the shorter one would be Minister Cornelius Fudge. The two paused their conversation as Kronnis’ group approached, composing themselves and hiding the shocked looks that had passed over their faces.

“Minister, Lord Malfoy,” the headmaster greeted each man. “A pleasure to see you. I hope you don’t mind that we’re a bit early. Our guests wanted a small tour of the Ministry building before their appointment,” he continued, leaving them no room to speak up. “I must take my leave to make my own preparations for the hearing; I trust they will be adequately cared for in your capable hands?”

As the Minister struggled to put together a response, sputtering in an unseemly manner, Dumbledore quickly said his goodbyes – the nonanswer providing him the opportunity to leave without argument. Quick steps took him back down the way they had come, leaving Kronnis to begin their plan.

He addressed the Minister with an apologetic smile, faking chagrin at the headmaster’s abrupt departure. “I beg your pardon if we’re imposing. We,” he gestured to himself and the Emperor, “are the delegates from Baldur’s Gate. I am Kronnis Teken’rret, from the House of Delvers in the Void.” Playing up his drow heritage as an exotic culture was not difficult. Growing up as minor nobility in Menzoberranzan did end up having some upsides after all.

“It is our pleasure to meet the Minister for Magic. We have heard many great things about Wizarding Britain.” His partner gave a slight incline of his upper body. “I am the Emperor. My name is not a formal title, more of a respected honor given to members of my family line, as we descended from the founder of our city. You may simply address me as Emperor.” Kronnis had taken particular pleasure in suggesting the use of this half-lie as part of their cover story.

The wizards’ eyebrows rose as the deep tones of the Emperor’s voice reached their minds. The Minister still looked lost for words, but Malfoy recovered smoothly. “The pleasure is ours, truly.” A cunning smile punctuated the words. “I heard whispers that we would be receiving foreign visitors. I hope the journey hasn’t been difficult?”

“Very pleasant actually, it’s marvelous to see how the surface has changed. Our forefathers had forbidden contact with the outside world for so long, we frankly didn’t know what to expect when we began our investigative expeditions,” Kronnis explained.

Fudge finally joined their conversation, belting out a welcome of his own. “Fascinating! I’m honored to welcome you to our culture, on behalf of Wizarding Britain.” Kronnis personally thought that the man was laying it on a bit thick. He didn’t even have to read his mind to feel the self-importance oozing out of that smile. “I understand Dumbledore has agreed to host you at Hogwarts. The Ministry would be more than happy to offer you alternative lodgings, should you need them. A suite suited for ambassadors such as yourselves would not be difficult to set up.”

“While we appreciate the proposal, we specifically requested to stay at Hogwarts. As an institution of learning, this will be an opportune way to familiarize ourselves with your culture and history. The finest school of magic in the world surely boasts an impressive library for us to make use of, and we value this chance to act as impartial observers to the education of your next generation.” The Emperor’s formal tone and praise was deliberately sculpted to flatter Hogwarts’ internationally-renowned standing, and the Minister by association.

His eloquent speech powered on, hoping to avoid awkward questions if enough reasoning was given right out of the gate. “On a more personal note… during our exploratory investigations we heard a great deal about the Triwizard Tournament held at Hogwarts last year. While it is disappointing that we were not prepared to make contact in time to witness the Tournament ourselves, being hosted by the establishment that emerged victorious is an honor.”

“Ah, yes, those are very good points,” Fudge finally admitted, almost to himself, before bouncing back into an enthusiastic response. “Let me assure you that we hold our education to the highest standards. In fact, I am personally appointing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year! Professor Dolores Umbridge will be bringing a more Ministry-approved curriculum to Hogwarts. I should be able to introduce you later.”

Kronnis took over again, eager to move on to his staged demonstration. “That's wonderful news, we’re excited to see how your education differs from ours. We haven’t actually had the chance to speak with Dumbledore about anything but the most pressing of topics regarding our stay. We only arrived two days ago you see. The use of magic was really the only subject we were able to have a brief chat about. Curiously enough, it seems our cultures developed quite different methods of casting spells.”

Wriggling his fingers to draw their attention, he casually summoned Dancing Lights into the air, subtly guiding the glowing orbs to flit agilely around their group. “Back home this is a common spell to provide lighting. Particularly skilled users can manipulate them in complicated theatrical performances.” A miniature version of Baldur’s Gate grew at their feet with another wave of his hand. Having only witnessed this view once from Ramazith’s Tower, his use of Minor Illusion had been practiced over the past couple of days to sharpen the details and show what the city would look like without natural light, inspired by views of the Underdark.

Artfully carved rock outcroppings decorated city squares and entrances. Gurgling underground rapids replaced the Chionthar, its rocky banks settled by houses and strange, bioluminescent farmland. Snapping his fingers dramatically, he sent the motes of lights streaking through the streets, twining around towers, and finally combined them to become a false sun, resting in the air above their heads.

Not a truly impressive display in anyone’s books; the collection of parlor tricks was mainly intended to highlight the differences between their use of magic, leading credence to their claims of foreignness. Anyone could create an illusory image of an exotic city, but to perform casually without a wand was the real show.

“In our culture I’d be referred to as a sorcerer, someone born with innate talents in magic. Others often need to devote time and study to achieve what comes to me naturally, and many dedicate their studies entirely to specific branches of magic.”

The wizards across from him inspected the false image of Baldur’s Gate with interest, spending some minutes asking questions about particular features that caught their eye. He subtly recast the spells a few times as they ran out, disguising the flickers in the illusion as lapses in concentration as he answered them. Eventually, he let them fall altogether as they moved on to other topics, a deliberate hand movement dispelling the city and its fake sun.

Malfoy looked thoughtful. “You mentioned your culture forbade contact with the outside world; how long have you been hidden?”

“While the exact time frame is unknown, we have managed to narrow it down to close to a millennium. The early histories are very chaotic. Conflicting accounts between Vasyl Grabower and Gregor Puvica are still being argued by historians ever since an excavation about seventy years ago unearthed a buried structure near the entrance of the Underdark; our term for the cave system we call home.” Kronnis wondered where the Emperor pulled those names from. They had planned to be vague about the origins of their culture, but a certain level of improvisation was necessary. They simply couldn’t plan ahead for all the different questions that might be pointed their way.

Outwardly, he nodded along with the explanation, smoothly picking up the story. “Vasyl is one of the first names we have a record of, leading the earliest group of refugees into the caves that are now our home. More and more joined him over time, magical creatures and humans alike, as the non-magicals of the area became violent towards any evidence of sorcery.”

“Baldur’s Gate, the main settlement and seat of power in the Underdark, is actually pretty varied in comparison to what we’ve seen of your culture.” He gestured to the men standing across from him. “Wizards here all seem to be humans, but once we closed off the Underdark to the surface world, our population was so diverse that not one race had a clear majority. I’m sure you’ve noticed that neither of us are human.”

Some fabrications would be needed for this part of their story to pass muster. “Personally, I’m a drow, a race that has a mixed ancestry of human and fey blood. Nowadays, drow are the most populous race in Baldur’s Gate. Our magical skills make us natural leaders.” From what they had heard of wizards, half-breeds and magical creatures were seen as lesser. Claiming that he came from the dominant race of their culture, one with strong magical powers, would hopefully overcome that association.

“We have records of many new races that developed over the centuries as our people adapted to life underground. Most of us are actually quite sensitive to sunlight now. It doesn’t bother me that much but, well…” he looked at the Emperor.

“Illithids such as I suffer the most from sunlight sensitivity. Archives indicate that we quickly lost some of our original features, developing new ones better designed for underground life. We did, however, retain our strong telekinetic powers.”

Malfoy and Fudge had been nodding along to their story, their full attention resting on the tapestry of lies being woven before their eyes.

“I can’t believe there’s been a separate magical society under our feet this whole time,” Fudge commented.

Kronnis laughed. “Well, if you knew about us, we wouldn’t have been doing a very good job of hiding ourselves from the world.”

“You must have been one of the first, if not the first, group of magicals that hid themselves from the muggles,” Malfoy remarked. “The International Confederation of Wizards only enacted the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692.” He quickly followed up with an explanation, seeing their blank faces. “This is the law that all Ministries follow to hide the wizarding world from muggles today.”

Fudge’s excitement had slowly begun to taper off, his eyes frequently checking a timepiece during their conversation. “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until our meeting to discuss this further, but I look forward to hearing more about your culture. An alliance between our worlds could spell marvelous things for us.”

“Actually, we had a request. I am aware there is a hearing taking place today,” the Emperor began, holding Fudge’s gaze. “I work in judicial matters myself in Baldur’s Gate. We were wondering if it would be possible to witness the proceedings of this trial to educate ourselves on your legislation and legal process?”

Hesitation flowed through the wizard. “Oh. Usually, guests aren’t allowed…I suppose I can make an exception this once. I believe today’s hearing should be fairly straightforward,” he replied. “I have to go inside to prepare for the trial, but once the doors open to let in the Wizengamot you can enter as well. Just take a place at the end of the chamber, opposite of where I’ll be seated.”

The Emperor bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you, we will ensure that we do not disrupt the proceedings.”

Malfoy took this opportunity to speak up. “I could keep you company until the trial begins. Actually,” the cunning smile from before returned to his face, “I wanted to extend an invitation for you to join me one evening at my manor. Perhaps once the school year starts and you’ve settled in?”

How convenient. An opportunity to weasel more information out of the man, just handed to them on a silver platter? This trip was already proving itself to be more than productive. Kronnis couldn’t wait to interrogate the Emperor on what was going through the Lord’s head.

The Minister nodded enthusiastically. “Lord Malfoy is well-connected and from a respected family, I’m sure he can help you establish contacts throughout our society.” He rushed his words, hurriedly excusing himself before rushing down the hallway.

Kronnis turned to Malfoy, a bright smile on his face, playing the role of eager foreigner. “We’d be honored to accept! Please, let us know if there are any customs we should follow. Is it normal for guests to arrive with a gift?”

“Not normally, unless the parties are close. Shall we wait by the courtroom? I can take the time to explain some wizarding customs.” Malfoy gestured for them to follow, leading them to an ornate door a couple of hallways down. On the way, he went through some of the basics of how wizarding society functioned, before informing them that he would send a more formal invitation with additional information through owl post at a later date.

The Emperor turned the conversation to the upcoming trial, requesting information on the structure of the judicial process and the players involved. While they were deep in discussion, comparing the Wizengamot with the court in Baldur’s Gate, Kronnis watched other formally dressed wizards and witches arrive to enter the courtroom.

Soon enough, he spotted Harry approaching with Arthur Weasley. The pair stopped for a quick hushed conversation before Arthur ushered Harry inside. Green eyes narrowed at Malfoy as he walked by their group. Kronnis had to resist the urge to wink at him, remaining stoic under the pretense that he had no idea who this boy was.

“Ah, it appears the defendant has arrived,” Malfoy drawled, looking down his nose at Harry’s retreating back. “You should go inside now, the trial will likely begin shortly. The benches the Minister mentioned earlier will be on your right.”

The Emperor thanked him. “I have enjoyed our discussion. We look forward to meeting with you soon.”

Walking through the doors, they were greeted with a roughly oval shaped room. Wooden benches ascended on all sides. To their left was an assembly of dozens of wizards and witches, with Fudge standing at a podium, his attention focused on some papers he was shuffling about.

They took their seats on the empty right side of the room. Harry, who was already seated in the lone chair in the center, watched their entrance, his anxiety obvious in his expression.

“Lucius Malfoy is heavily involved with Voldemort. He was there at the resurrection, just as Harry said,” the Emperor whispered privately in his mind, filling the silence as they waited for the trial to begin. “A stroke of luck that we ran into him. He is unaware of Voldemort’s whereabouts at the moment. The man is being very secretive with his plans, even to his most loyal followers. All Malfoy knows at the moment is that Voldemort is contacting old allies and gathering his forces, with the expectation that the inner circle will soon be contacted to assist.”

Kronnis suppressed a smile. He’d figured that his partner had found some juicy information in Malfoy’s brain, given how eager he had been to draw out their conversation. “And, of course, it’s purely a coincidence that he invited us to his manor,” he projected his sarcastic response back.

Amusem*nt radiated from the creature sitting next to him. “He is a bit suspicious of us being part of some scheme of Dumbledore’s, but does not believe an elaborate story such as ours could be fabricated and kept up convincingly. As long as we do not slip up or give any reason to believe that we are not who we say we are, his suspicions should dissipate soon enough. If we truly are ambassadors from a foreign magical civilization without preexisting ties to others, we could be the key to a powerful new alliance for Voldemort.”

“Good thing we truly are from a foreign magical civilization without preexisting ties to this world,” Kronnis laughed.

“Indeed.” Out of the corner of his eye Kronnis could see the Emperor’s purple eyes crinkle in a smile. “Perhaps we should bring a gift from our plane. Not necessarily something from Baldur’s Gate, but something otherworldly enough that it would help cement our story.”

As they conversed, the trial began to play out before them. The Minister was currently steamrolling Harry’s objections.

“Not only does he believe that we could be potential allies for Voldemort, but it seems he needs to redeem himself. Some sort of magical book was entrusted to him for safekeeping during the last war. For whatever reason, he smuggled it into Hogwarts through Ginny Weasley’s schoolbooks several years ago. I am not sure of the details, but somehow the book is related to a series of petrifications that happened that year. Some students almost lost their lives. We should ask the headmaster for more information on those events, but the important part is that the book was lost or destroyed and Voldemort is furious about it.”

“Ah, he’s looking to get back into Voldemort’s good graces by forming some sort of an alliance with us.”

“Precisely. I believe we are in a good position to play into his plans a bit. Act as though we are interested in the past war and both sides of the conflict. He will likely put us in contact with others sharing his ideals, Death Eaters of high standing in socie-” He broke off as the courtroom doors were thrown open.

Dumbledore confidently strode in, loudly declaring himself as the witness for the defense. Just in time too, since it looked like the trial was going poorly for Harry. An elderly lady meekly followed him into the room and was quickly introduced as Mrs. Figg, who was present for the event. Her testimony, which backed up the few words Harry had been able to get out, infuriated Fudge.

Kronnis knew Dumbledore had some sort of plan. A surprise witness was certainly a twist, and slightly puzzling. Why did wizarding courts allow unprepared evidence to be presented? “The old man’s got some tricks up his sleeve, wonder where he was hiding her.”

The Emperor hummed, focused on the trial. “This is a sham, Fudge wanted an excuse to expel and discredit Harry. Whatever happened with these dementors practically gift-wrapped the opportunity for him.”

“You think the attack was planned? Does Fudge know anything about it?”

“I think it was planned, but Fudge seems to believe Harry is making the whole thing up. Dementors are apparently under the Ministry’s control. Fudge does not believe they would act on their own-.”

He broke off again, as a woman with a pink collar peeking over the neck of her black robes voiced her criticism at the implication that the Ministry had anything to do with this attack.

“Ah,” the Emperor sounded amused. “Speak of the devil, I suppose. That’s Dolores Umbridge, the witch that the Minister is planning to appoint as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She is the one who ordered the dementors to attack Harry.”

That certainly complicated things. “Lots of plots behind the scenes here,” Kronnis mused. “Does she look like she has any ties to Voldemort?”

A subtle head shake. “I cannot find any indication that she is working with Voldemort. She is angry that her plan to silence Harry failed. I believe she was trying to help the Minister without his knowledge.”

Kronnis tuned in again as Dumbledore suggested that the Ministry look into their little rogue Dementor problem, and tried once again to convince the Minister that Voldemort was back.

“Dumbledore is not going to get anywhere with that. Fudge is paranoid that the headmaster is planning to take his job, whatever he says will be considered some sort of manipulation. I am not sure if anything short of seeing Voldemort with his own eyes will convince him.” As the trial wrapped up, the Emperor continued discussing the Minister’s thought process with Kronnis, planning together how to approach the wizard.

A decision was eventually reached. The witness testimony had thankfully been enough for the majority of the Wizengamot to rule that Harry should be cleared of all charges.

The courtroom slowly emptied out, with some members giving them curious looks now that the formal hearing had concluded. They remained seated, waiting for the Minister to finish speaking with some individuals they didn’t recognize about unrelated matters.

After a few more minutes, he approached them with a pained look on his face. “I must apologize, this trial became a bit more complicated than I anticipated.”

“Nonsense. I must applaud you, this seemed to be a difficult case. I admire your dedication to maintaining the secrecy of magic. It is true that care needs to be taken to ensure that the non-magical society does not discover us. Breaches of your Statute of Secrecy should be taken seriously.” The flattery straightened the Minister’s back.

“Yes, you are right, these are serious matters,” Fudge echoed back. “Mr. Potter is lucky to have had a witness to his claim. I assure you we will be looking into these allegations regarding the dementors.”

Kronnis nodded. “I’m curious about these dementors actually. We don’t have anything matching their description in the Underdark. Perhaps you can enlighten us on the way?” His hand motioned to the doors of the now empty courtroom.

“Of course, we use the dementors to guard our prison, Azkaban.” The Minister began, elaborating on the history of dementors as he led them through the halls, ignoring curious glances from passersby.

Purple carpets and mahogany doors greeted them on the first level of the Ministry, along with a familiar figure waiting for their group. Fudge greeted her with warmth. “Ah, Dolores. I’d like to introduce you to the Emperor and Kronnis Teken’rret, the delegates from Baldur’s Gate that I told you about.”

Kronnis eyed the fake smile on the woman’s face as they exchanged pleasantries. She was putting on a good act, but he could tell she didn’t think highly of them.

“It’s too late for Dumbledore to find a new professor now, so the Ministry needs to step in. As I mentioned earlier, I believe Dolores will be a fine choice to fill the position for Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Pride and pep filled his voice as Fudge elaborated on his plans for Hogwarts. “The students need a more regulated curriculum; one the Ministry is stepping up to provide. Dumbledore has not had a single teacher in that position stay longer than one year in quite some time.” A disappointed shake of his head followed his last words.

“A pleasure. We’ll be sure to keep in contact once Hogwarts is back in session.” Kronnis flashed white teeth and a charming smile.

She tittered. “Of course. Please, come to me with any concerns you may have regarding Hogwarts. We’ll be looking closely into the educational standards of the school.”

“A fine proposal. I hope you will not mind us joining you for tea from time to time?” the Emperor asked.

Her fake smile melted away and was replaced by uncertainty, clearly taken aback by the mental form of communication the mind flayer employed. Nevertheless, she simpered on. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Dolores,” Fudge beamed, obviously pleased by the prospect of their collaboration. He then suddenly seemed to remember the reason for their presence here, and sent an apologetic smile her way. “You must excuse us though, our guests have travelled far for this meeting.”

A short walk down the hall brought them to the largest and clearly most important door on the floor. Opening it, the Minister proudly showed them into his office.

Elaborate patterns swirled along the walls, accenting shelves of books and tasteful decorations. Ignoring the plush chair and dominating desk in the center of the room, the Minister guided them to a luxurious lounge off to the side, surrounded by the most impressive-looking trophies and artworks. He gave them a secretive look once they were settled, and with a flourish of his wand summoned a set of crystal glassware and a bottle of dark amber liquid from a drawer of the large desk.

“Now, I must first ask,” he began, slowly filling the three glasses on the walnut table between them, “how much do you know of recent events here in Britain?”

Seasoned spice and sweet fruit filled the air, a rich aromatic. Kronnis waited until his glass was slid across the table before plucking it off the expensive wooden finish. “Not enough, I admit.” A sip sent the taste of expensive liquor burning down his throat, stronger than the wine-based beverage he’d expected. “We mentioned earlier that we’d heard of the Triwizard Tournament. The international community was practically buzzing about it. You also recently had a war, about fifteen years ago I believe? Unfortunately, it’s a bit difficult to catch up on centuries of history, and we weren’t able to focus on just one region. It was important to have a grasp of the international community at large before we made any moves.”

“Perhaps you could fill us in on what you consider to be the most important and impactful events?” the Emperor suggested. A subtle gesture caught his glass in the faint purple glow of telekinesis, summoning it to him just as Fudge was about to slide it across the table. All for show of course. The illithid had no intention of removing his veil. Tentacles were firmly staying put, pinned awkwardly in place.

The Minister eyed the Emperor’s demonstration with thinly masked interest before launching into a summary of the past hundred years or so, describing how the war with Grindelwald influenced both international and local issues over the following years. Another explanation of the previous war with Voldemort was given, differing slightly from what the Order had told them. Kronnis could pick out parts that the Minister was either downplaying or emphasizing based on how they reflected on the Ministry.

Predictably, no factual mention was given to Voldemort’s return, although Fudge did seem a bit nervous when he ended his history lesson and turned to other matters. “Has Dumbledore mentioned anything about You-Know-Who? He seems convinced that he’s back.”

“He did mention it actually, but he was not able to produce any evidence beyond saying that the Potter boy witnessed his resurrection. We have not heard anything else about this during our investigation into contemporary events in the world. It is a bit concerning, but it is easily possible the boy was mistaken. Do you have any further information on the matter?” the Emperor questioned, sounding vaguely concerned and curious.

Fudge looked relieved. “It’s preposterous, they have no proof whatsoever. I’m not sure what Dumbledore is up to, but I will not stand for these lies! The streets would be in chaos if the public believed this deception that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I intend to keep order.”

Kronnis gave an agreeable nod at the passionate words. “You have a responsibility to keep the peace. Claims like these should be backed up with evidence. Has the Ministry looked into this?”

A pause. “Well, it is hard to prove the absence of something. It’ll be difficult to investigate until any evidence does come to light about you-know-who’s return.”

“Understandable, it wouldn’t do to waste resources turning over every stone looking for a dead man.” It was frustrating to agree with Fudge. Not even bothering to look into the supposed return of the most powerful dark wizard in generations showed how incompetent he was. On the bright side, his cluelessness boded well for their own deception, although it was only necessary in the first place due to his ineptitude.

“We would not mind keeping an eye on the headmaster,” the Emperor offered. “I am concerned that this suspected delusion may impact the school environment.”

Kronnis found the prospect of playing double agents exhausting. He manipulated, and to some extent spied on politicians back home in Baldur’s Gate, but was typically seen as a distinct entity; courting and being courted in turn for advantageous positions by other players dancing to the same web of politics spun throughout the city. As the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he had quite a bit of freedom, and did not pretend to work for anyone but himself. Well, actually, that was a lie. He worked with, for, the Emperor. Rebuilding a commercial empire was hard work and required a public face, preferably one without tentacles.

Working with - manipulating, his mind whispered - both sides of this conflict that Dumbledore and Fudge had with each other required an almost perfectly composed song of lies. Normally he would find this enjoyable, but one wrong step could be unrecoverable. A poked hole potentially so large that their whole illusion would fall apart, ruining their efforts. His fingers itched with the urge to find Voldemort and just start flinging bolts of lightning at his face. Or at least some Death Eaters they didn’t have use for, he wasn’t too picky.

He was broken out of fantasies of blackened corpses, some sporting long blond hair, by Fudge’s response.

“I would appreciate your help, but please, I’m sure you have other duties you’ll need to attend to.” His attempt to downplay their offer seemed slightly inauthentic somehow, contrasting with the triumphant smirk he was struggling to hide. “If you do happen across any information, just inform Dolores and we can take it from there. Pleasantries aside,” he leaned forward, “I would like to know what your plans as ambassadors are, and how I can help make your stay as productive as possible.”

Leaning back himself, Kronnis let the Emperor field this question, taking the opportunity to finish his drink. The sharp, fruity tones had grown on him.

“Establishing relations with your Ministry, offering cooperation on current issues, and learning about your culture are our main goals. Most of this can be accomplished by living among you and meeting the population.” The incredibly bureaucratic-sounding lies flowed smoothly through their minds, the Emperor’s experience with legislation and political jargon evident in his words. “I would say most of these are being addressed. Your offers of assistance are most appreciated.”

“In preparation for our culture to establish contact with the outside world we were tasked with making the rest of the magical community aware of our presence, in addition to gaining information on current world politics. Innovating on the use of magic and learning new ways to apply it are also of interest to Baldur’s Gate. We are hoping to come to an agreement regarding an exchange of students or visitors in the future. Perhaps our involvement in a future Triwizard Tournament could be arranged?”

The Minister nodded. “Yes, I believe all that should be possible, with a little help. I was going to ask if you would be opposed to a quick interview for the Daily Prophet, our main source of news. You would be able to have the information you need to disseminate to the public published. I could call in a reporter once we finish our meeting. I’m sure rumors will be spreading about you soon enough. You, ah… aren’t exactly subtle.” He seemed apologetic.

Kronnis coughed, trying to choke back a bark of laughter at that statement. “That would be perfect, thank you.” If only the Minister knew how subtle the Emperor was trying to be. “You go through all the trouble of walking around with sore feet instead of levitating and they still say sh*t like this,” he projected his words to his partner, along with an image of himself shaking his head.

The weight of exasperated purple eyes rested on him for a second before they turned their attention back to the Minister.

“As for some of your other goals, I mentioned earlier that Lord Malfoy should be a great help to you in finding connections within our society. If you ever have holes in your schedule that you need to fill, I would be more than happy to put you in contact with others specializing in whatever topics catch your interest.”

“Perhaps some Ministry officials could give us an overview on the functions of different parts of your government at a later date. Many other topics that we are interested in should be covered by the Hogwarts curriculum and library.”

While they were distracted, discussing topics of interest, Kronnis snuck his hand out to snatch the untouched glass of liquor that the Emperor had at some point set quietly back down on the table. Fudge had been easier to manipulate than they thought, his allyship almost secured at this point. Flattery, offers of assistance, and agreements on points important to the man had him eating out of their hands. Figuratively, of course. Although, a devious little mental suggestion could have made that image reality. A sip hid his smirk at the thought, bringing the taste of sugared fruit back to his tongue. It tasted a lot like victory.

“I have some questions of my own,” Fudge said, changing the topic. “Perhaps you could regale me with details about Baldur’s Gate, and tell me more about yourselves?”

They answered with a mix of information about city and the real Underdark. Most of the particulars provided were accurate in regards to Baldur’s Gate where possible, to keep their facts straight. Only when necessary were small details changed to match an underground setting.

Compared to wizarding culture, the picture they painted of their home must have sounded like a utopia for magical creatures seeking to coexist with witches and wizards. They tried to limit the races mentioned - humans, gnomes, and dwarves - in accordance with information on local magical creatures provided by the Order. Drow and Illithids had to be thrown in as well to account for their own presence.

Not wanting to make knowledge of the Netherbrain Crisis public, they instead explained Kronnis’ influence in the city as due to being a member of nobility. This was a combination of unrelated facts and just barely a lie, for while he certainly rubbed elbows with Baldur’s Gate’s finest pedigrees, he didn’t truly have any official titles to his name in the city. Only in the Underdark did his House have any power, and he wasn’t entitled to call upon it anymore, having abandoned Menzoberranzan and his family as a young adult.

The Emperor’s cover story was a bit more complicated. They were hoping that the information about being sensitive to sunlight would prevent any questions about his concealing attire. There was really no choice but to pass illithids off as a race of some sort of intelligent magical creature, separate from humans. Claiming that he was descended from the founder of Baldur’s Gate was a bit pompous, but really only a small piece of misinformation, in comparison to the drastically more complex fabrications they had come up with. And it was another excuse to make them seem like important, high status individuals that could be trusted with the duty of representing their people to the outside world.

“We were selected as diplomats due to our knowledge and experience in the political matters of Baldur’s Gate, magical and scholarly ability, and our involvement in the investigation of the outside world. It actually would have been difficult to send anyone not involved in the investigation group, since they would have had to catch up on the extensive amount of time that was spent studying various languages.” The deep tones of the Emperor’s voice concluded their story.

Fudge seemed enthralled by their narrative. He had poured himself another half glass of the amber-colored liquor partway through their explanation. “Fascinating. I’ve never been one for travel, but I would love to visit your city someday.”

“Perhaps we can arrange a visit in the future. The Dukes will still be rolling out legislation regarding travel to and from the Underdark for a while, it’s very restricted at the moment. The citizens are fairly nervous about the big change, but we hope that with continuous news from the outside world they’ll settle and grow more accepting of repealing the more archaic isolationist laws.” Kronnis tried to temper the man’s expectations. The last thing they needed was an immediate demand to see the city.

“Of course. I imagine such a change would be complicated and take years to properly manage,” the Minister agreed. “I hate to cut our meeting short, but I believe the offices of the Daily Prophet will be closing soon. Would you mind if I called up that reporter for the interview?”

“Not at all, we should be getting back to Hogwarts soon anyway,” Kronnis said, beginning to feel the heat of the second glass of unidentified liquor he had consumed.

Fudge stood to send a message to the office of the Daily Prophet, enchanting a small piece of parchment to flit through the air and slip under the door. Together, the three of them made their way to a room designed for interview use a short distance away.

It did not take long for a pair of men to join them, one carrying a large mechanical contraption with a lens. They were introduced as Andy Smudgley and Adrian Plotcher. Andy eagerly began their interview, a quill noting down their every word, while Adrian started setting up the contraption he’d brought. It was supposedly a camera that would take an image of them.

Kronnis repeated the prepared cover story for the third time that day, answering the who, what, and why of their presence in Wizarding Britain. Giving just enough information to intrigue readers, but not enough to bog down the article with the encyclopedic number of details they had prepared. Fudge added comments at certain points about how the Ministry was working with them and nurturing their alliance.

They graciously accepted Andy’s profuse gratitude once they finished the interview, as the journalist exclaimed that this article would be the biggest break of his career.

Lacking the ability to give an obvious courteous smile, the Emperor inclined his head as indication of his own appreciation. “We would not have been able to so clearly accomplish our goal of announcing our delegation without the assistance of the Daily Prophet.”

A brilliant smile met his words. “I’ll be sure to pass your thanks on to the Editor-in-Chief.”

Adrian cleared his throat to get their attention, putting a stop to the political circle-jerking going on in the room. He stood waiting behind the machine he had been fiddling with. “Are we ready for the picture? I’m all set up now.”

“Yes, yes. You’re probably not familiar with photographs, right? Muggles invented them about one hundred years ago,” the Minister began, confidently explaining further as they shook their heads. “They’re used to create an instant image of whatever the camera is pointed at, like creating a realistic painting without having to spend hours working on it.” His chest puffed out. “Of course, we’ve been creating moving paintings for centuries, it was only natural that we developed a potion that could be applied to photographs to animate them as well!”

Realization dawned on Kronnis. “Oh, is that how the moving pictures in the newspapers are made? We’ve seen a couple of those.”

“Precisely! Now, we’ll have to stand in frame for the photograph…” Fudge positioned their group in front of the camera and guided them on how to move, ensuring that the resulting images captured him shaking both of their hands in turn. Adrian took several photos, on the off chance that some wouldn’t turn out as intended.

Kronnis repeatedly faked the same public relations smile, felt the Minister’s clammy grip, and then watched a hint of hesitation flicker over Fudge’s face as he slid his strangely small hand into the Emperor’s, alluring claws dwarfing weak, pale fingers; he could feel his own patience beginning to slip.

Once finished, the men from the Daily Prophet said their goodbyes, and they were left alone again with the Minister.

The Emperor again thanked him diplomatically for his hospitality, and feigned disappointment at their imminent departure back to Hogwarts.

“Do you need access to our floo system to get back? You can use the fireplace set up on this floor.” Fudge offered.

Kronnis shook his head. They were still unsure if the floo would work for the Emperor, given that it seemed to run on verbal commands, and were hesitant to find out. “We’re not familiar with floo travel. I had planned to teleport us back.”

“Ah, do you have your own version of apparating?”

“In my experience it feels a bit different. Our method is much more comfortable.” He said his own goodbyes to the Minister before making a show of summoning his magic to envelop both himself and the Emperor, expending a seventh level spell slot to cast Teleport and bring them back to their bedroom in Grimmauld Place.

Feeling himself wobble at the sudden change of location, he seized the opportunity to fall dramatically against his partner’s chest. Long arms and a faint purple haze caught him as he went weightless, groaning in an exaggerated manner. “Ohhhhh I’m so sick of the Minister already. Self-serving prick.”

“I have seen you drink entire bottles of wine and still manage to dance your way around the Ducal Palace’s ballroom.” Kronnis could feel the eye-roll infused in his partner’s response to his whining. Clawed hands pinched as they pulled him up, and he reluctantly stood on his own feet again.

“Whatever Fudge was serving was strong. You’re lucky I kept it together for the rest of that meeting,” he sniffed, ignoring the mind flayer’s assessment of his level of sobriety.

“There was no reason for you to steal my drink as well.”

“It would have been rude if we didn’t drink it!”

The Emperor held his gaze with a raised brow ridge.

“And,” Kronnis emphasized, continuing once it became clear that his statement would not be dignified with a response, “I didn’t even have the entertainment of being able to read anyone’s mind like you did.”

“Next time,” the Emperor reassured him. “I did not come across anyone with occlumency shields as strong as Snape’s. Lucius was fairly skilled, so you should probably stay out of his head, but feel free to skim the minds of others we have encountered today. It seems an uncommon talent among wizards.”

“That’s a relief, I really wanted to know what the Minister was thinking.”

A dismissive hand-wave. “Nothing too important, mostly planning out how he can make himself look good with our help. He was fairly open about most things, although his idea to install Dolores Umbridge as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor might be a problem. He is hoping to gain more influence in Hogwarts through her and find excuses to give her the power to make changes in the school. Likely with the end goal of deposing Dumbledore as headmaster, given how Fudge suspects that Dumbledore is trying to steal his own job.”

While he spoke, Kronnis’ deft fingers rose up to undo the veil uncomfortably hiding his partner’s tentacles, purple appendages stretching in the air as they were freed one by one. “Take the enemy out before he can take you out. Makes sense. Do you think Dumbledore knows? He must be aware that Umbridge is joining his staff this year.”

“I would be surprised if he does not already suspect that the Minister has something like this planned. The headmaster has his own spies in the Ministry.” Large hands joined his own, threading their fingers together. The sight was a great deal more pleasing to Kronnis’ eyes than the joining of his partner’s claws and Fudge’s clammy hands had been earlier. He had to push away the image of mutilated fingers as he felt irrational thoughts building at the memory.

“Spymasters and informants, manipulations and conspirators. Adding another puppeteer might just topple this whole house of cards.”

The Emperor’s laugh echoed through his head. “Implying things again, are we?” Hands shifted their grip to teasingly hold Kronnis’ wrists in the air, as though he were held up by strings.

Kronnis hummed, allowing his limbs be freely manipulated. “Suggesting. What if we didn’t just feign interest in Malfoy’s ideas? Or, what if Baldur’s Gate was… looking to expand?” He leaned forward as far as possible, the strong grip on his immobile arms limiting his range of movement, their position pleasingly accentuating his next words. “You know I’d gladly be your puppet, whatever we do.” His words were a breathy whisper, snaking out from a toothy smirk.

A confession of love? Obedience? Consent for the Emperor to sink his claws into his brain? Whatever it was, it was uniquely theirs, and only theirs.

Fondness and stifled possessiveness radiated across the link between their minds, caught by an iron portcullis of will before they could spill too far. “You know we already have enough things to worry about in Baldur’s Gate. I am dreading the mess we might come back to when we return for a visit.” An uneasy moan echoed behind his words, concern about the state of their investments clear in his voice. “And we have no way of knowing whether Voldemort is trustworthy. It would be simpler to stabilize the magical world, and then work out what we can take advantage of to further our commercial endeavors.”

Kronnis pouted as his hands were released during the Emperor’s rumination, recognizing the change in topic as the end of his efforts to tempt his partner into some fun. “We don’t even know if the people here will trust us after this charade is over. If Voldemort took charge, I doubt that would be an issue. We could negotiate trade agreements in advance, and he’d likely enforce them in the aftermath, whether people liked us or not.”

“We would be putting a lot on the line. Dumbledore is unlikely to betray us, and goodwill from our help will go a long way. I cannot say the same of Voldemort. You may be a powerful sorcerer, but we still do not know how we match up against wizards here.”

Kronnis tilted his head, the corners of his mouth turning with a goading smile. “Isn’t investing all about risk?”

Purple eyes smiled back, enjoying their back and forth. “It is, but the risk should be measured. Calculated. Right now, our best option is to continue working with Dumbledore, and I doubt that will change.”

“Fair enough. I suppose we’ll still have to figure out a game plan for our visit to Malfoy’s manor then. I think you planned a visit home right after the school year begins?”

“Yes. I was thinking perhaps something from our wine collection would be an appropriate gift. We have some exotic vintages.”

“As long as it’s not one of my favorites.” Playful warning aside, Kronnis paused. “Now that I’m thinking about dinner with Malfoy, I realize we never had lunch. I’m going to head down and see if there’s any leftovers, not sure if I’ll make it to dinner.”

Two steps from the door, he stopped again. “What about Umbridge? She didn’t seem too thrilled about us.”

“She is willing to go along with the Minister’s plans regarding our presence, but her first impression of us was not exactly positive. The second she saw us she labelled us as half-breeds. We will have to hope that our cover story goes some way towards changing her mind, and work closely with her in Hogwarts to maintain a connection and some level of influence over her.”

Kronnis huffed. “I’ll have her know I’m a full-blooded drow, not a half-drow.”

“You may have a better chance of getting close to her,” the Emperor advised. “Although our professional demeanor during our brief conversation went a long way towards smoothing over her initial impressions, the term ‘unnatural creature’ floated through her head whenever she looked at me.”

“The racism in this world astounds me. Don’t they know the correct term is aberration?” he shook his head in mock disappointment before restarting his walk to the kitchen, faint laughter following in his mind.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Kronnis watched Ron stare at the Emperor over his half-eaten sandwich. The boy wasn’t doing a great job of being subtle about it. People-watching had always been a favored hobby, and Kronnis had perfected the art of figuring out when someone was about to do something interesting. As the minutes passed, he wondered how long it would take Ron to work up the courage for whatever he had to say.

Molly had served ham sandwiches and a hearty potato soup for lunch, fussing over how much to prepare to ensure no one went hungry. Two sandwiches still remained on the platter. Flipping his attention back in her direction, Kronnis caught her stealing another glance at the Emperor. He didn’t need to probe her mind to tell that she was torn between knowing that the illithid was not going to eat anything and feeling the need to provide for everyone at the table anyway.

Ah, today was truly a grand day for people-watching.

Sitting next to him, and for all appearances entirely ignoring the tension around the table, was the Emperor. Kronnis knew that he was incredibly absorbed in the large book he was reading, something about the history of Occlumency, but the slight writhing of tentacles hidden just under the edge of the table told him that an awareness of the room occupied several of his partner’s multi-faceted thoughts. Over the past half-hour, the Emperor had occasionally questioned Sirius about historical facts and figures referenced in the text, making notes on further material to look into.

When he wasn’t distracted by the Emperor, Sirius’ attention was focused on reading today’s copy of the Daily Prophet, with the paper being shared between himself, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. Front and center, taking up the entire page, was the interview that Kronnis and the Emperor had given at the Ministry yesterday.

Kronnis had taken great pleasure in pointing out the nuggets of truth they had woven into their cover story, clearing up falsehoods with more information on his actual background when asked. His ties to drow nobility in Menzoberranzan meant he had years of experience in acting the part he was playing, not that he had used those skills much in the decades following his departure from the Lolth-worshiping cults of the Underdark. His flippant summary of drow culture had shocked his audience, who had been dismayed at the chaotic revelry, backstabbing, and rampant murder that was expected of his kind.

There may have been some slight manipulation in how he portrayed the facts, painting himself as a sympathetic victim of the persecution that plagued male drow. It wasn’t quite a lie, but given how the whole brain-eating thing had gone over, he figured it was probably best to keep some things to himself. Such as the fact that, in his youth, he had eagerly backstabbed with the best of them. He had instead shifted to his conversion to the goddess Eilistraee, the lady of dance, song, and moonlight, and patron of good-aligned drow. He was still working on some parts of that. It was mostly her elegance and the freedom from the endless conflicts that those drow remaining in the Underdark were embroiled in which had drawn him into her circle of influence.

He had never held any love for Lolth, and secretly admired those few drow that left the Underdark to live on the surface. His House had enrolled him in a school to master his sorcery, but he had slipped away to follow the call of the Lady of Dance after a particularly violent altercation. Kronnis still found himself bitter at the blame that had been placed at his feet. How was he to know that his Wild Magic Surge would poison the prominent high-born daughter of a rival House! She had been perfectly fine after the first bout of vomiting, fit enough to drag him kicking and screaming to the floor to roll around together in the puddle of sick.

The Emperor, on the other hand, had declined to clarify much of his personal past, keeping the details on his exact relation with the founding of Baldur’s Gate to himself. Understandable, since it wasn’t really relevant to their current situation, and Kronnis knew that his partner didn’t like to talk about his previous life if he could help it.

A short discussion had filled the room after Kronnis finished sharing acceptable personal details about their home plane; explaining to the children that, officially, the only information they were to know about Kronnis and the Emperor was the public knowledge they were making available through the paper, hence their current review of the interview. In public, they would have to pretend that they had never met.

As conversation lulled, Ron put down the remains of his sandwich, and Kronnis saw him steel himself.

“So… I mean… me and Hermione were talking the other day. And I was wondering, I guess…” he paused, almost afraid. “Do you have a beak?”

Everything stopped. Kronnis paused mid-sip, soup spoon awkwardly held in his mouth. Hermione, after running through several horrified expressions, began glaring daggers in Ron’s direction.

Tentacles gave an involuntary, half-aborted twitch before the Emperor himself froze. His eyes stopped scanning the page, and a brief spark of indignation was stifled by a disciplined mind before it could leak too far through their connection. A faint warning to Kronnis’ incredulity was sent instead, cautioning him not to say a word, no matter how tempted he was to comment on the matter. Slowly, the mind flayer’s attention focused on Ron, glowing purple eyes shining out from under his black hood.

Sneaking a watchful and desperately curious eye into his partner’s mind, Kronnis was amused to witness that, true to form, mental fingers were rapidly plying apart Ron’s thoughts, the Emperor’s predilections showing. Very obviously a flippant misuse of his abilities, not that the boy would ever know.

The book clapped shut. The sound pierced through the silence of the room, causing someone on the periphery to flinch, but Kronnis was too preoccupied with the impromptu staring contest to take note of who it was.

Ron opened his mouth again, words flowing out as if to form a barrier, or to prolong this uneasy peace. “Well, we were just discussing, totally unrelated, how squids and uh, octopi... octopuses… have beaks. You know, in between their tentacles.” Another pause. “As mouths.”

The book was now being placed on the table, discarded in favour of unnerving the room. Slowly leaning forward, the Emperor’s elbows came to rest next to it, fingers lacing together, and head hovering over them in turn. “You think I am an octopus.” The words, projected in the minds of everyone present, were neutral. Toneless. Contrasting greatly with the complicated and conflicted emotional maelstrom that the line of questioning had stirred up within the Emperor’s mind.

Kronnis struggled with the soup in his mouth. Some dribbled out and stained his shirt as he held back the explosive laugh that threatened to disrupt the tension. A choking noise across the table indicated that Ginny had not been so fortunate. The shaking coming from Sirius spoke volumes in the silence.

The Emperor continued after it was clear that Ron had realized that if he spoke any further, he would leave no more room in his stomach for sandwiches, as it would be full of the foot he had swallowed. “Gryffindor must truly be the home of bravery. This is a question I have never been asked before. Although, perhaps that is because no one would dare ask an illithid such personal questions where we come from.”

Molly looked ready to squeak out either an apology or a scathing admonishment of Ron’s behavior, but the Emperor continued, seemingly unbothered. Kronnis could tell that this level of… was it.... comradery? Unabashed personal conversation? Whatever it was, it seemed thrilling and novel to his partner. Never would a citizen of Baldur’s Gate have addressed him like this. The Emperor was not one to keep casual acquaintances. “I do not, in fact, have a beak.” His tentacles shifted, almost teasing. “I suppose such a young mind must be burning with questions, and I am not one to curb the curiosity that leads to expanding one’s knowledge.” His words were beginning to drip into their minds with a slow, lighthearted tone, and Kronnis could see a dangerous smile in his eyes, unrecognizable to anyone not intimately familiar with the Emperor.

Hermione’s face transitioned from apoplectic rage and embarrassment to shy inquisitiveness in a way Kronnis had never seen before in his life. Her hesitation was only brief before she asked, “Then… what do you have? We’ve never seen you eat, and, well, obviously you’re not using a mouth to speak with us. Actually, I guess I’m not even sure if you have a mouth, that’s an assumption on my part.” Her tangent, which had quickly picked up speed, trailed off towards the end. She started looking a bit unsure of herself.

Sirius had shifted uncomfortably partway through her line of questioning, but stilled himself as the Emperor’s eyes and attention shifted to him for a half-second.

Tentacles wavered from side to side, almost as if thinking, before he responded. “I may use it… a bit differently from how you use yours, but I do have a mouth.” Shifting to the sides, muscled appendages revealed a hint of dagger-like teeth, before those spread as well to allow a brief glimpse at the circular maw that was usually hidden away.

Harry’s face paled, while Hermione’s mouth formed a small “O”. Sirius leaned to the side for a better angle and shuddered, rubbing his head with a troubled expression. Then, with a coiling of tentacles, the view was hidden once more, and the Emperor leaned back. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he asked casually, picking up his book once more.

A spoon, having been dropped on the counter seconds previously, signaled Molly’s approach to where the children were sat. “I think that’s enough of that. There’s been enough personal questions asked today.” She avoided looking directly at the Emperor and was focused on drilling her disapproval into the top of Ron’s skull, who hadn’t said another word and looked rather green himself.

Watching her hover menacingly over the boy’s head, Kronnis thought with twisted glee that her poise was very reminiscent of an illithid preparing to dine.

“Don’t you all have summer reading you need to catch up on? School starts up again in a week you know, and I heard you complaining yesterday about the 12-inch potions essay you still have left to do.” The last bit was directed at Ron specifically, but it was clear she intended to prevent further questions on the matter, rather than motivating her son to complete his homework.

Ron’s wide eyes finally left the Emperor and looked fearfully up at his mother instead. He nodded and swiftly gathered his things, uncharacteristically forgetting the remains of his sandwich. “It’s almost done, I swear, just need to add a third point on the use of dittany or something,” Ron said with a grimace. The other children followed his example and soon they were bundled out the door and up the stairs.

On their way out, Kronnis had noticed Hermione's attention fall on him. Specifically, on his upper lip. Yesterday, before their trip to the Ministry, a healing potion had erased proof of where he had, perhaps a bit too eagerly, let himself fall onto the Emperor’s face during their tryst a few nights ago.

“Well.” Sirius was the one to break the silence this time, jolting inelegantly out of his seat. “I think I’m also done hearing about this. I’ll get out of your hair before I have to start drinking to forget.”

“Ah, actually, we wanted to ask if you could show us where you keep the books you are discarding, and if you had any rules for which ones we could take or look at,” the Emperor mentioned as the man prepared to leave.

There was an awkward pause as this was considered. “Sure, yeah. They’re being stored in the drawing room for now.” Sirius motioned with his hand for them to follow him up to the first floor.

Unable to resist one last parting shot, Kronnis turned to address his partner, keeping a close eye on Sirius in his periphery as he did so. “I think we need to talk about boundaries later, you can’t just go showing off the goods to anyone who asks!”

Unimpressed purple eyes side-eyed him as Sirius almost tripped on the first step. The wizard continued in a much louder tone, reminiscent of how one would speak to a friend to drown out loud, unwanted background conversation. “The dangerous stuff has already been taken out of the house, so it’s mostly just books we were going to sell or give away. You’re fine to take whatever you want.”

As they walked behind Sirius to ascend the stairs together, the corners of Kronnis’ mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk, reveling in his ability to unsettle.

They’d been on the first floor before but hadn’t explored much. The door that Sirius opened revealed a dusty room with high ceilings, large windows, and a fireplace that clearly hadn’t seen use in decades. Unruly stacks of books were pressed against a corner close to the door.

“You’d best stay away from the curtains over there; we haven’t gotten around to clearing out the doxy infestation yet.” Sirius pointed to where said curtains, green in colour and pattern, framed the view of the street, fabric buzzing angrily upon closer inspection. “We’re cleaning this room next, once we get the library put back together.”

The Emperor strode forward, picking up one of the topmost books. “Thank you. I assume these are not sorted in any particular manner?” Several more began floating up to his eye level, pages flipping as they bobbed and jockeyed for his attention, fingers conducting them like an orchestra.

A shrug. “I don’t think so, they were likely just brought down and put on whatever stack wasn’t about to fall over yet,” Sirius said, watching as Kronnis joined his partner’s perusal.

He had already spotted some interesting topics for later review. All sorts of books on curses had been discarded, along with a particularly macabre series containing detailed dissection diagrams that appeared to be instruction manuals on the best ways to butcher various magical creatures for valuable potions ingredients.

Sirius made a face as he saw the spread Kronnis was currently paused on. Splayed across both pages was an artistic medical diagram of a centaur, flayed in order to clinically point out its biology. “Better you get that one than Snape,” he commented dryly, distaste obvious in his tone.

The books floating around the Emperor suddenly dipped in the air, his telekinetic hold evidently losing concentration for a brief second. When Kronnis looked up in concern, he saw that his partner stood stock still, body twisted to shift the intense focus of his purple gaze to one of the cabinets next to the fireplace. A quick check on the Emperor’s mental state revealed shocked curiosity ringing in his mind.

“Do you remember what we found in Harry’s scar?” he finally asked, his eyes briefly meeting Kronnis’.

The abrupt change in topic threw Sirius off for a second. “What? What were you doing with Harry’s scar?” he demanded.

As the mind flayer began moving to the cabinet that had caught his attention, books discarded haphazardly, Kronnis rushed to explain. “We took a look to see if we could uncover any new details on whatever he’s got going on with his scar. The only solid information we were able to turn up is that it’s linked to necromancy, and the Emperor was able to find a fragment of another mind within it. We think it might be a link to Voldemort but haven’t found any further answers on the cause or what side effects it might have on Harry.” The grim news only agitated Sirius further. “We’ve already talked to Dumbledore about it, and we’re going to see if we can find anything similar mentioned in the Hogwarts library when we get there.”

Some creative swearing graced the room until the Emperor interrupted them. “I can feel another such connection coming from something in this cupboard. It feels almost identical to what I found attached to Harry.”

At this, Sirius marched over to throw open the cabinet doors, wand in hand. Peering over his shoulder, Kronnis eyed the various display pieces and random junk stuffed into the corners. Was that a shrunken head?

A sharp finger poked between their heads, pointing out a rather ugly necklace on the second shelf. “This is it.”

This time, the object of their attention was levitated by Sirius. Beckoning with his wand, the necklace floated out of the cupboard to hover between them. Three sets of eyes focused on it.

“Do you know what it is?” Kronnis asked Sirius.

A shake of the head. “I’ve no idea. It could be some dark artifact, or something of Voldemort’s that my family acquired at some point.” Disdain colored his words.

“The mind sliver I am sensing is coming from the locket itself. The only difference between it and what I can sense in Harry is that this one is several times larger, but still much smaller than a normal intelligent mind.”

“Does it have that same connection leading away from it?” Kronnis asked.

“Yes. It extends past my range, just as before. I am loath to attempt to follow it after last time.”

Sirius eyed the two of them. “And you have no idea what this mind thing is supposed to be?”

“No, I have never seen anything like this before. Which is curious… why would I sense the same thing in both Harry and this locket? They must be related in some way,” the Emperor mused.

With sharp movements, Sirius cast several spells on the locket, his eyebrows furrowing with each wave of his wand. “It’s extremely dark magic, whatever it is.”

“Since its related to necromancy and mimics a mind or some sort of intelligent consciousness, our best guess is that it has something to do with souls,” Kronnis offered. He felt a bit out of his depth, wishing he at least had the basic magical education that other people in this plane had. Starting from scratch was going to severely hinder their progress in researching this effect.

“That’s dark alright, I don’t even want anyone touching this,” Sirius sneered as he began summoning some materials to wrap it up. “I’ll put it somewhere safe and contact Dumbledore, perhaps he can figure it out.”

The Emperor nodded. “If he keeps it at Hogwarts, we will be able to investigate it further once our search in the library turns up new information.”

Sirius grunted in agreement, the newly bundled-up locket still levitating before him as he moved to the door. “I’ll leave you to those books then.”

Kronnis watched the wizard leave, a man on a mission. Sirius obviously cared a great deal about Harry, his behavior this past week being a mix of overprotective instincts and desperate attempts to connect with the boy. They probably should have told him earlier about the information they had discovered about Harry’s scar, even if just to keep Sirius in the loop. Considering the circ*mstances, he had been a more than welcoming host during their stay.

“I agree, Sirius would be a valuable ally, and likely desperate enough to accept any help offered.”

“A bit ruthless, don’t you think?” Kronnis turned to the alien eyes of his partner, who had evidently been receiving an echo of his emotions. Or perhaps the illithid was skimming his surface thoughts at the moment, it was hard to tell sometimes. “He could make a good friend as well. Allies of convenience or desperation wouldn’t be as loyal as those helped in good faith. If we’re set on working with them, we should court these people for long-term partnerships.”

A pause. “You are right, I apologize. Emotional connections are still… difficult for me sometimes,” the Emperor admitted.

Kronnis reached up to pat his partner’s shoulder in a self-important manner. “Don’t worry, I’ll go find him later and put my charm to good use. And then before long you’ll have to deal with another friend harassing us about visiting them or taking a break from micro-managing the city’s economy.” His smug tone made him the target of the Emperor's driest look, which was the desired effect.

“As long as you exercise restraint and do not impulsively adopt another child.”

“You know that was a one-time thing! She just showed up! The only reason I let her stay was because of the cat!”

“Of course,” the Emperor drawled patronizingly, before striding back to the books they had abandoned earlier.

Following with sharp steps and narrowed eyes, and unwilling to let his partner have the last word on the matter, Kronnis muttered into the macabre book he had once again snatched up. “You never let me keep them anyway.”

Kronnis had been shown where Sirius’ room was, but had yet to have a reason to seek the man out for anything. Nevertheless, he found himself standing at the door now, hand lowering from where it had knocked a greeting on the wooden finish.

It had been several hours since Sirius left them in the drawing room. They had opted to keep most of the books, even if they might not find the time to read the ones that didn’t seem as important. You never knew when random information would come in handy.

A creak accompanied the opening of the door. Sirius’ face peered out, but his expectant grey gaze initially did not quite match where Kronnis’ eyes were. Clearly anticipating - or hoping - that someone else, about half a foot shorter, was seeking him out. The wizard quickly refocused his attention, eyes shooting up to meet Kronnis’, but the slight tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed his disappointment.

Kronnis made a tremendous effort to quench the tiny spark of indignation growing in his chest. “Hey, we didn’t really get to talk about the thing we found in Harry’s mind earlier. I thought you might like a more detailed explanation?” he ventured before Sirius had the chance to say anything.

“Oh.” The wizard’s eyebrows rose from their confused scrunch. “Yeah, how did you even get the idea to look at his scar?”

“An investigation has to start somewhere!” Kronnis took an intentional step forward, prompting Sirius to retreat in order to recover personal space, the resulting gap wide enough to grant access into the room. Faded red and gold posters hung on the walls, framed by both moving and unmoving pictures. Few things looked like they were younger than one or two years old. Some belongings had been sorted into piles in a corner, and a wardrobe on the far wall was thrown open, half of its contents strewn across the bed. “We’re looking into Voldemort, right? Not much we can do at the moment until we find people we can pump for information, but when we were brought up to speed on things you mentioned Harry’s problems with his scar. We have nothing to really do besides researching and learning about your culture until we get to Hogwarts, so we figured taking a look couldn’t hurt.”

Kronnis snuck another couple of steps deeper into the room as his rambling distracted Sirius, roaming eyes finding an old chair that was quickly rotated into the perfect seat for him to command the room from.

The wizard’s attention followed him, and he soon brushed some faded shirts from the edge of the bed, making space for himself to sit down opposite of where Kronnis had strategically situated the chair to face. “So, what did you do exactly? I’m sure Dumbledore must have cast diagnostic spells on it before, or had the matron at Hogwarts look at it.”

Kronnis leaned in conspiratorially. “We have a spell back home to detect magic, and identify which school or branch it belongs to. That was step number one. Harry certainly lit up brightly - I assume all wizards and witches will show up as being magical to the spell - but there was an additional pocket of necromantic energy contained in his scar.”

Taking on a more subdued tone, he went over their investigation into Harry’s mind the other day. Everything was shared; from his usage of the scroll of Detect Magic, to the Emperor’s failed attempt at following the connection that the mind sliver had to some unknown location, including the adverse effects Harry suffered during this.

Sirius certainly didn’t look happy about the situation, sporting a faintly disturbed expression. “And you’re sure there’s nothing from your world that might be able to fix this?” His request seemed almost hopeless.

“Unfortunately, we can’t even begin to guess at what we might be working with,” Kronnis said apologetically, “not until we familiarize ourselves with how your magic works. I don’t want to just tear it out or something and end up hurting Harry.” They had some ideas, but collecting wild theories without solid information wouldn’t get them far. “We were hoping to send a message to a wizard we’re friends with back home, see if he can look into necromancy for us and maybe come up with other things we can try.”

Sirius nodded. “Thank you, truly. I don’t know what I’d do myself. We wouldn’t have even known this much if you hadn’t decided to take a look.”

The man seemed to have been chewing on regretful thoughts throughout their conversation. Kronnis opted to let their talk fall into a lull, waiting for Sirius to break the silence on his own once he had gathered himself.

“I should’ve been there for him.” The quiet admission swam with emotion. “I wasn’t there when he needed me. I should have focused on Harry, instead of following that rat bastard Wormtail.” The last words, tainted with vitriol, accompanied spittle on their way out of Sirius’ mouth. “We told you Harry currently lives with his relatives. He hates it there, and it’s my fault. I’m his godfather, I should have taken him in and raised him myself when James and Lily… when his parents died.”

Another pause punctuated his confession. Sirius was hunched over, staring at his hands. Kronnis shifted his own body to a more open and welcoming posture, but stayed silent, inviting Sirius to continue his lament.

Eventually, the man roused himself out of his memories. “Wormtail was one of our closest friends, and a traitor. He was the Secret Keeper for the location they were hiding in; no one should have been able to find them unless he told them. We thought we could trust him. People wouldn’t have expected him to be the Secret Keeper, they should’ve targeted me as the first choice. But he was working for Voldemort, and we never knew.” A hollow laugh broke through his story. “By the time we got there it was too late. Voldemort was dead, but so were James and Lily. Harry was there, I saw him. Dumbledore had made arrangements to send him to Lily’s sister, Petunia, so I let him be taken to that horrible family instead of stepping in as godfather. I was so…” Sirius paused, searching for words, before his final admission betrayed his rage. “So filled with anger that I could only think of wringing that rat’s neck.” His pale hands clenched, as if fantasizing just that. A neck between fingers, convulsing as a body’s last breaths were wrung from its throat.

“They found me laughing in the street, with twelve muggles lying dead in a crater, and Wormtail’s severed finger damning me for all thirteen murders. I was thrown into Azkaban without a trial. Wormtail screamed that I was the traitor, and that was enough.” His next words were a whisper. “Everyone thought I betrayed them, even Remus. And in a sense, I did betray Harry. He should’ve been my first concern. I escaped from Azkaban, but now I’m a wanted man, and Wormtail is still scurrying around as a rat somewhere.”

Sirius sighed, the weight of his story diminishing him. “All I can offer is this house. I can’t go out in public. I can’t provide a home for Harry. Dumbledore won’t let me go to Hogwarts to help protect Harry or even just be there for him. If I get caught it’s the kiss for me, worse than a death sentence.”

Kronnis was glad that the Minister had explained the horrors of Azkaban and dementors yesterday, if only to save Sirius from being asked to elaborate on the fate that awaited him. He had known the broad strokes of the story, being briefed on the wizard’s status as an innocent man who had escaped from prison. At the time, the Emperor had uttered some choice words about the handling of Sirius’ imprisonment, being tasked with preventing this very situation as part of their arrangement with Wyrm’s Rock Prison.

He leaned even further into Sirius’ personal space, two pairs of pale eyes staring into each other. “Even though you might not be able to go to Hogwarts, we’ll be there. I can’t promise that I can be there as a friend to Harry, but we can do a damn good job of protecting him.” Kronnis let a dangerous smile show on his face, illuminated by the sparks he had let erupt from his fingers. The pleasure of plucking the first strings of his favorite pattern of the weave tingled through his body, and he mourned the elation that would normally come with fully casting the spell. “I’ve been waiting ages for an excuse to fry someone again.”

Trepidation colored Sirius for brief seconds, before being replaced by hard steel. “I’ll hold you to that,” he promised.

Kronnis held his gaze for another moment before letting his grasp on the prepared Chain Lightning spell fade. He regretted that they wouldn’t be able to take Sirius to Hogwarts with them. The wizard seemed like he would be easy to work with, now that he appeared mostly over his issues with the Emperor’s nature. What was a little brain-nibbling between friends after all? Kronnis himself certainly didn’t mind being wrapped in the Emperor’s tentacles, and frequently delighted in the thrill of resting his head dangerously close to the sharp teeth growing at their roots.

“Best be careful with words like that,” he purred. “Almost sounds as if you’re giving blanket permission for us to get rid of anyone we need to.”

“If it’s to protect Harry, it’s worth it.” A much less black and white answer than Kronnis would have expected after their first evening here.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement. I hope we can resolve this without a fight at Hogwarts,” he lied through his teeth, “but war is messy and unpredictable. It’s best to be prepared.”

Sirius snorted. “You don’t have to tell me twice; Hogwarts isn’t as safe as it seems. Even ignoring the tournament last year, Harry told me that a troll managed to get into the school during his first year, and a basilisk was hidden below the castle for centuries. Killed a student a few decades back, as I understand it.”

Well. Kronnis had imagined that the most dangerous thing he might face at Hogwarts would be untrained witches and wizards, or an ill-thought-out attack by Voldemort. This certainly blew his expectations out of the water. “You’re joking. They were totally unaware of a basilisk in the basem*nt? Who the hells is in charge of security?”

“There are wards to keep things out, but apparently the basilisk had been there since the founding of the school. The plumbing led to the hidden chamber where it lived. No clue about the troll though, I think Harry mentioned someone might have let it in.”

Hidden chambers? Monsters to kill? This was sounding more and more like the adventure he had been looking for. Excitement bled into his tone. “Are there a lot of hidden rooms?”

Sirius laughed and shook his head. “Kronnis, Hogwarts has so many hidden rooms and passageways that I doubt anyone has ever found all of them. Back when we attended, James, Remus and I made a map that showed all the secrets we could find. Harry has it now, he could probably show it to you. There are some really useful passages for getting around the castle quickly, and a couple leading to the neighboring town of Hogsmeade.”

“Discovering hidden rooms yourself is half the fun, but I wouldn’t mind cheating a bit in case we need those passageways.”

They shared a grin, childish delight shining on Sirius’ face as his eyes unfocused, likely reliving old memories. “I wish I could come with you; I miss Hogwarts.” His grin slowly faded into a sad smile; jovial reminiscence replaced by a mournful melancholy. “I think you would’ve fit right in with our little group. We called ourselves the Marauders, believe it or not.”

“Maybe once we kill Voldemort you can spend some time with us in Baldur’s Gate. You wouldn’t believe the secrets hidden away in the tunnels and sewers beneath the city.”

Sirius hummed wistfully. “Getting away from here for a bit would be nice. Who knows when I’ll be able to walk the streets again as a free man.”

“Is there no way to prove your innocence? Does your legal system depend on witness testimony and material proof, or can you bring other evidence forward? Dumbledore seemed to have been able to just walk a random woman into Harry’s hearing as a witness, and it really looked like no one else knew about that evidence before he presented it.”

“It depends on the case. The Ministry got away with throwing me into Azkaban without a trial, so it would set a bad precedent if they rescinded that decision.” He sounded reluctant to admit this.

The beginnings of a plan were forming in Kronnis’ mind. “Fudge wasn’t Minister at the time, was he?”

Sirius shook his head. “No. I think he was actually one of the first on the scene when they arrested me, but he wasn’t Minister yet.”

“That could complicate things, but I think it might still be possible to talk him into giving you an actual trial, as long as we’re sure you can win it.”

A bewildered stare formed on Sirius’ face. “How?”

Sitting back in a lecturing pose, Kronnis explained his thinking. “First of all, the Emperor and I are working to get on Fudge’s good side. Seems like a simple enough task so far. Eventually, we could bring up how we heard you were on the run. After actually looking into you, we realized that you never had a trial! An utter miscarriage of justice!" Dramatically feigned shock had Sirius laughing again, engrossed in his proposal.

“We’ve already told Fudge that the Emperor works closely with our own judicial system, so we have motive to be concerned about the situation. We’ll then ask him to organize a trial for the sake of fairness, and hint that fixing the mistakes of his predecessors would show great character, give him good publicity, stuff like that. He’ll eat it up,” Kronnis’ tone was dismissive, as though this would be the easiest thing in the world. “We just have to figure out how to get you to the trial safely and how to present enough evidence for them to declare you innocent.”

“You really think that might work?” Sirius questioned, looking as though he had never seriously considered the idea of receiving a fair trial.

Kronnis shrugged. “We won’t know until we try, but if you give us a couple months we’ll see where we stand with Fudge and if it looks like he’ll listen to us. That should give you some time to figure out how to get your proof and present it.”

“I could volunteer to take Veritaserum, it’s a truth potion. And with a Pensieve I could show my memories. The only other evidence we could bring would be Wormtail himself, but I have no idea where he is.” Sirius sounded hesitant, but his words were becoming increasingly excited at the prospect.

Kronnis’ brows furrowed. “Why don’t they use those at every trial? Seems like an easy way to figure out the truth, but I don’t recall any mention of them at Harry’s.”

“Pensieves are rare. Dumbledore supposedly has access to one, it belongs to Hogwarts as far as I know, but I haven’t a clue where any others might be. A lot of wizards are afraid of the power that Pensieves hold over memories, I’m not sure if they’d even allow it to be used in a courtroom.” Uncertainty replaced the excitement in Sirius’ voice as he thought deeper into the matter. “Veritaserum can be resisted by some people, so its unreliable, not to mention expensive. If we manage to use both we might have a chance, but I think our best option would be finding Wormtail. It would be solid, physical evidence that I didn’t kill him.”

A jolt of inspiration struck Kronnis. “Wait, Wormtail was there when Voldemort was resurrected, right? And if we bring him before the court, it would certainly unravel some narratives and have people questioning what’s going on. Pump him full of Veritaserum and figure out a way for a Pensieve to be used, and we could get some proof that Voldemort is back as well.”

“I’ll admit, that sounds pretty good, but we still have to find him first.” Sirius pointed out.

“If he’s skipped town to the next country over, we might have a problem. But I think there’s a good chance we’ll be able to find him if he’s still involved with Voldemort here.” Kronnis leaned forward again, as if to share a secret. “You’re forgetting that we’re planning to pull as much information as possible from the minds of Voldemort’s supporters. One of them must have some knowledge about Wormtail. We already have an invitation from Lucius Malfoy to visit his manor.” His favorite smug smile was back again. “He phrased it as a simple, friendly evening soiree, with the implication of helping us get situated in Wizarding Britain, but clearly the intention was to scope us out as allies and gain some influence over us.”

Distress colored the wizard’s response. “And you’re going to go?” He sounded incredulous, as if the last thing he could imagine anyone wanting to do was visit Malfoy Manor.

“Of course!” Kronnis cried. “This is the perfect opportunity to get into their good graces! Even if Malfoy doesn’t end up introducing us to more of his Death Eater allies, we’ll have a chance to root around in his mind for the locations and identities of others we can approach.”

“When did you even meet him?”

“At the Ministry. He was talking to Fudge close to the courtrooms. Very convenient, actually.”

Sirius shook his head. “I can’t believe he just invited you like that.”

Kronnis scoffed. “In my experience, at least in societies where you aren’t expected to get ahead by literally backstabbing someone else, politics is all about who you know and how much power they have. And bribes, but we’re going to try to play this honestly, as upstanding examples of the underground city of Baldur’s Gate.” His last statement drew a bark of laughter from Sirius. “We’re the hot new commodity on the block, representing an entirely new magical society, with unknown strength and a willingness to ally ourselves with the outside world. We have the power to pick and choose who to work with, because people will be throwing themselves at our feet to get something out of us. The first ones to manage that and maintain positive relations will be riding a boost of political power, and others will flock to them for a chance at a connection with us.”

He paused to take a breath; his explanation having become more animated as he went. “Trust me, I’ve been through this before. Getting catapulted from being a nobody in Baldur’s Gate to being the hero that saved the city did wonders for my political standing. I might not be a duke, but the Emperor and I have quite a bit of influence now.”

“This is why I never wanted to get involved in my family’s politics,” Sirius groaned. “Isn’t it a bad thing that you’re publicly allying yourself with Malfoy then? You’re just making him more powerful.”

Kronnis waved a hand dismissively. “He’s already a respected and wealthy lord. Sure, we’re providing some more soft political power, but he’s never going to see the actual benefits that he should be getting out of it.” Back to lecturing mode again, he explained their hideously precarious act. “Let’s say we were telling the truth about our motives and origins. Malfoy would be in a good position to have influence over us, and then Baldur’s Gate through us. We would be sharing magic and ideas in an attempt to foster long-lasting friendship between our societies. He would have opportunities to invest in a whole new sector of commerce, likely before most others from your society. And,” he paused to put weight behind his next statement, “he could subvert or convince us to join the war on Voldemort’s side, promising Baldur’s Gate power and influence in the greater world if Voldemort were to win the war.”

Sirius was listening with rapt attention, horrified fascination evident on his face. Kronnis suddenly remembered that the man had spent nearly his entire adult life in prison, and had never gotten the proper education in politics that his family should have provided.

“Malfoy has many motives to ally with us. Unfortunately for him, we’re just using him to get the information we need. Like I said, he’s never going to see the long-term benefits of investing his time and effort into building ties with us because many of those benefits simply don’t exist - at least, not in the form we’ve presented them. And, also, because we’re probably going to have to kill him or get him arrested later anyway.” He punctuated his last sentence with a careless shrug.

“Oh, that’s a dirty trick. You’re getting everything you need out of this deal and he’s going to be sitting there with nothing.” Sirius grinned with him.

“Exactly. Normally there would be serious political repercussions for betraying allies like that; no one wants to play along with someone they can’t trust. But we really don’t have to worry too much about the lasting consequences, because once we finish what we came here to do we could just vanish without a trace back to our home plane. After all, we aren’t tied to this society's rules like everyone else is. Admittedly, we’re not too fond of that option. If we can figure out a real way to maintain connections here, we’d like to. It would depend on how this whole situation gets resolved, but it’ll be a shame to lose access to this world.” Exchanges in technology and magic could revolutionize Baldur’s Gate, not to mention the commercial prospects this opportunity presented them.

“This sounds way too complicated; I don’t envy this balancing act you seem to have in front of you.” Sirius had begun rubbing his temples partway through the explanation.

Broken out of his thoughts, Kronnis picked up where he left off. “We’re trying to stay as neutral as possible in the public eye. Acting like we need to feel out the political and cultural landscape helps buy us some time. We’ll have to see though, plans can change depending on how things work out, and we may have to play our hand at some point and make a public move. The hard part will be stringing people like Malfoy along without delivering too much from our side.”

“The Emperor will be planning most of it anyway,” Kronnis continued dismissively, “I just have to sit there, look pretty, and whisper sweet nothings into the ears of influential figures.” An understatement, but Kronnis often found being underestimated in a political environment to work in his favour. He gave his best charming smile. “Can’t look too much like an easy target. We’re supposed to be some of the best Baldur’s Gate has to offer after all. But if people think they can get something out of us, they’ll be more likely to approach us and try to get on our good side.”

Oh, and how he looked forward to watching them try to manipulate him. He had always thought it amusing when some unfamiliar politician approached him at an event, offering honeyed words, trying to justify their requests for this or that, never realizing that behind trusting lilac eyes his black-veined brain had already wrapped them around his own fingers.

“Just thinking about having to play nice with Malfoy and whoever else he hangs out with is already giving me a headache,” Sirius moaned.

Kronnis laughed, his next words taking on a playfully threatening tone. “Don’t worry. If I get a chance, I’ll fill you in on all the devastatingly interesting politics he brings up.”

“You better not or I’ll kick you out of my house.” The empty warning and mock glare cut through the air between them.

“The hospitality here leaves much to be desired,” Kronnis sniffed in fake offense.

Grey eyes rolled, almost audibly. They exchanged a few more barbed jokes before Kronnis, having judged his beguiling complete, excused himself from Sirius’ room, leaving the wizard to continue sorting through clothes and knick-knacks that hadn’t seen the light of day in over a decade.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Kronnis had heard the joyful cacophony of voices from down the hall that morning, but didn’t know what all the fuss was about until Molly came to knock at their door later that day.

They had been engrossed in the books that Sirius had generously gifted them, sorting the dusty texts into various piles based on their usefulness. Priority number one had been looking into dark magic to see if they could find any more hints on necromancy or soul magic. Not many of those remained, most having been carefully removed from the house prior to their arrival due to dangerous curses or other old hexes protecting them.

Information on wizarding history and culture was their next priority, and after that were the numerous interesting - but occasionally boring books that didn’t have immediately useful information in them.

The Emperor answered the door, having an easier time getting up from his desk than Kronnis would have had from his position on the bed, surrounded by a collection of pretentious pureblood genealogies that he was comparing to each other. He thought to himself that it was a bit too early to be summoned downstairs for dinner.

“Hello!” Molly greeted them with a bright smile, almost bouncing on her feet. “We’re having a bit of a party tonight. Some of the other Order members will be coming over soon. You’re free to come down whenever you’d like, but dinner won’t be quite ready for another half an hour.”

Kronnis sat bolt upright. “A party?”

“Is there an occasion for this celebration?” the Emperor inquired, taking a step to the side so Molly wouldn’t have to speak over his shoulder to address Kronnis as well. Or, more accurately, under his arm.

She puffed her chest up with pride. “Ron made prefect! And Hermione as well. That’s the fourth one in the family, so I thought a little party was in order.”

Kronnis hid his confusion, not wanting to take the wind out of her sails. “Marvelous! We’ll be sure to come down in a minute to congratulate them.”

She practically skipped away; message delivered. Once the door was closed again, the pair made eye contact.

“Do you know what a prefect is?”

“No.”

A banner celebrating Ron and Hermione greeted them as they stepped into the kitchen. Several Order members were already present, including Kingsley and Tonks, who they were familiar with from the meeting that had been called during their second day here. Moody bustled in behind them and the Emperor took the opportunity to engage him in a conversation about what little they had learned about dark magic so far.

Sirius, having seen them come in, waved Kronnis over to the kitchen counter where he was pouring an amber drink into a collection of glasses. “I think you’ve only had wine and water while you’ve been here. Try this for a change, it’s a wizarding specialty.” He pressed one into Kronnis’ hands.

The drink was chilled and had a sweet flavor that he wasn’t familiar with, buttery on his tongue. “I give it three out of five stars, could use a higher alcohol content.”

A bark of laughter came from Sirius. “You don’t drink butterbeer to get drunk, that’s what firewhisky is for.”

“Oh? And where can I get some of that?”

Sirius shot a calculating glance in Molly’s direction, judging her attentiveness. “I think she’ll allow it this once, as long as we don’t let the kids have any.” He turned to the cupboards behind him, rummaging around in one before pulling out a half-empty bottle of dark liquid.

A new glass was filled with a few teaspoons of the beverage. The grin Sirius sported as he handed it over was a bit suspicious, but Kronnis downed the whisky anyway, knocking back the glass with a practiced motion. A sharp burning sensation seared down his throat, forcing him into an unexpected coughing fit.

Sirius’ cackling was loud enough to draw some attention to them, heard over the droning conversation filling the room. Kronnis could sense Molly’s disapproving look from where she had joined the Emperor and Moody in conversation.

He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “That’s definitely a new one for me – good though. It’s got more kick to it than whatever the Minister keeps in his desk.” He held out the glass for a refill.

Harry had wandered over during his coughing fit to pick up a glass of butterbeer for himself. “Better be careful with that, firewhisky is supposed to give false courage.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know?”

The boy sputtered to defend himself. “I’ve seen enough seventh years downing shots in Hogsmeade to know to stay away from it, unless you want to look like a prat in public.”

“Ah, to be young again,” Kronnis sighed. He opted to sip his glass after Harry’s warning, instead of draining it all at once.

The room quickly became busier. Arthur arrived with another similar-looking redheaded man that Kronnis hadn’t met before, and Mundungus Fletcher – who he had. Shifty man, but apparently the Order trusted him.

“By the way, what exactly is a prefect?” Kronnis indicated upwards at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

“Oh,” Harry seemed uncomfortable at the line of questioning, frustration and envy lingering in his eyes. “It’s sort of a position of authority. Prefects are students that have extra responsibilities like patrolling the halls and making sure people follow the rules, stuff like that.”

Interesting, Ron hardly seemed like the responsible member of their group, but perhaps this was a way to avoid favoritism. Although, having no idea as to who actually made the final decision, Kronnis found it difficult to judge. “Convenient, sounds like you’ll be in a good position then.”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “What? But I didn’t make prefect, Ron did.”

“Yes, but now you have friends in high places. You can share some of the benefits, but don’t have the extra responsibilities that they do. Unless you really wanted to spend your time patrolling the halls, sounds boring to me.” Kronnis shrugged and took another sip.

Sirius broke in with a now-familiar smile, reminiscing on Hogwarts memories again. “I didn’t make prefect either, spent too much time in detention with James.” He nodded his head towards Remus, who was listening to a passionate speech Hermione was making. “They made Remus prefect in our year; he was the well-behaved one.”

Harry made a noise of understanding, but seemed otherwise lost in thought.

A sudden shock of amusem*nt echoed from Kronnis’ faint connection to the Emperor. His eyes easily found the tall figure of his partner, and he let out a surprised snort himself. Tonks was facing the illithid, surrounded by several of the children. The bottom half of her face was slowly growing four flesh-colored tendrils, a look of concentration on her face as she attempted to mimic the Emperor’s tentacles. She looked absurd; a mirror probably would have helped her get the proportions right. Ginny was egging her on, while Ron, who was clutching some sort of weirdly-shaped broom to his chest, watched on in horror.

Jealousy briefly shot through him before he wrestled it down, questioning its origins. Just because she could mimic a mind flayer’s body to some extent did not mean that the Emperor would take any further interest in her. She would never be a real illithid. Neither would Kronnis, but he was as close as he could be without letting a twenty-eighth tadpole crawl into his eye socket. A unique case, probably the only one of his kind.

It was the psionics that mattered, anyway, not a cheap imitation of the complicated anatomy of illithid tentacles – and his brain was getting better and better at flexing its residual illithid tissue in ways that allowed him to use the abilities that had been stolen from him with the death of his old tadpoles.

Kronnis downed the rest of his liquid courage, discarding the glass carelessly on the counter. “So, Harry,” he began, bringing the boy out of his own musings. “Sirius tells me you have a very special map of Hogwarts. Would you mind if we looked at it from time to time?”

Hesitation colored Harry’s response. “Sure, as long as I’m not using it. I’m not sure if you can activate it without a wand, but if you just want to look at it, I can activate it for you.”

“That should be good enough, we just want to see where some of the hidden passageways are. Might be useful for getting around.” Kronnis prepared himself to suggest the idea that he and the Emperor had discussed the previous day. “I know we said that you shouldn’t approach us in Hogwarts, but that’s going to make it difficult to get in contact. The Emperor thought of a solution. Keep in mind that it's entirely up to you, so if you don't want to do this, or if you change your mind at any point, just say the word.”

Both Harry and Sirius were starting to look at him suspiciously now. Kronnis continued on before they had a chance to question him. “The Emperor could contact you privately.” He tapped his head to clarify. “If you then project your thoughts as though you were talking to someone, he’d be able to pick up on them without looking any deeper into your mind, allowing for a silent conversation. Pretty similar to what I share with him actually, just a much more scaled-down version.”

He explained the details, clarifying that they were concerned about potential Death Eater activity throughout the school year, and that Harry could alert them if he found anything suspicious.

Kronnis could see that Sirius was earnestly considering the idea, likely being aware of the benefits that a more subtle method of communication offered when secrecy was necessary.

Multiple methods were suggested, and he added that it would be up to Harry whether he only wanted to be contacted if they had important information to share, or if he would prefer some sort of check-in system where they would exchange information once a week or so.

To sweeten the deal, Kronnis had one more carrot to dangle before the boy. “We could also use this as an opportunity to check up on the mind sliver in your scar, in case the situation changes at all.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, appearing to go through an internal debate with himself. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. We’ll still be here early tomorrow morning, and if you ever want to change your mind later on you know where to find us – just make sure you catch us alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go figure out what that’s all about.” He nodded towards where Ron was currently hovering in the air, having mounted the strange broom he seemed so enamored by.

Sirius and Harry distractedly waved him goodbye before immediately whispering to each other once he was out of earshot.

As he approached Ron, the boy’s tangent became audible, an explanation on speed or velocity recited from some sort of publication Kronnis had never heard of. Looking strikingly similar to Ron, the unfamiliar redheaded man standing next to the hovering broom responded with a comparison, identifying the broom as a Cleansweep, which was apparently better than a Comet Two Ninety.

“Did I hear correctly, is this broomstick some sort of transportation vehicle?” Kronnis asked after introducing himself, learning that the other man, Bill Weasley, was indeed related to Ron.

“It’s more than that! You need a broom to play Quidditch, the faster the better,” Ron gushed. “I was just explaining how this Cleansweep is one of the fastest on the market right now. Not as good as a Nimbus or Harry’s Firebolt, but still a decent competitor.”

“Is there broom racing as well? I assume it’s enchanted. Can other objects be used in a similar manner?”

Bill interjected. “Racing is not as popular. Some brooms are just faster so it comes down to what’s the best on the market at the time. Quidditch requires good broom-handling, skill, and fast reflexes, which means different brooms can be used, and not everyone needs to use the fastest model. I’ve seen flying carpets used in Egypt, but brooms have been in use for hundreds of years here.”

“I might have to get myself one of these. I used to be able to levitate and fly whenever I wanted, it was very handy in a fight.” Kronnis sighed wistfully, missing the battlefield control that the Astral-Touched Tadpole had granted him. “One-of-a-kind sensation. Sounds like these brooms are much faster though, that could be fun.”

“What, like flying on your own?” Bill looked intrigued.

“Basic levitation, a bit faster than running. I could still do it if I wanted to, but I’d need a spell scroll per use, which would get expensive fast. Actually, let me call the Emperor over,” he said, having already sent the request to his partner, asking him to join their conversation. “Illithids tend to float instead of walk. The only reason he’s walking around here is because some rooms have short ceilings, and we figured it would raise more questions if he levitated everywhere in public.”

“If I could fly, I would never walk again.” Ron’s passionate words were tinged with more than a hint of jealousy.

“Indeed, I find walking to be growing increasingly tedious.” The Emperor had quickly made his way over from across the room, his feet having left the floor as soon as he had deciphered the information-dense bundle of memories and thoughts that Kronnis had sent him a couple of seconds ago. Ron’s hovering meant he was taller than he normally would be, but the mind flayer still towered over him, his head brushed the ceiling as he levitated.

“Is that truly unaided flight?” Bill asked, a fascinated expression growing on his face as he witnessed the feat.

“It is an innate ability all Illithids have, but most other creatures would need to cast a spell, if that is what you meant by unaided.”

Bill shook his head, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing. “That sounds completely unaided to me, by our definition. A spell has yet to be invented to allow an individual to both levitate and control their movement while in the air. It was thought impossible. Flying brooms or other enchanted items are the closest we’ve gotten.” He turned to Kronnis. “And you said you could do the same?”

“Yes, for a time. Has anyone briefed you on our history?” Bill nodded. “Some of the symptoms of my affliction allowed the use of illithid abilities, to a certain extent. Flight was one of them. Now that I’m cured, I can’t really do it anymore.” Several abilities had come back to him with practice, but flight had evaded him so far, a frustration haunting every practice session he had with the Emperor.

Just then, a loud shout rang out from the kitchen entrance. “Ronald Weasley, you put your feet back on the ground right now!” Plates of food swirled around Molly as she stepped into the dining room. “You know better than to fly a broom around inside.”

Ron landed sheepishly and dismounted his broom. “Sorry mum.”

That left the Emperor as the only one floating in the air, a situation he quickly remedied by lowering himself to stand on his feet once more.

“Don’t start thinking that the rules don’t apply to you anymore just because you’re a prefect now.” She continued in a warning tone, but quickly dropped the topic, apparently willing to allow her son some leeway after all. With a wave of her wand, the platters of chicken legs, baked potatoes, and corn floated to settle onto the table, attracting the attention of the dinner guests.

She used the distraction to motion them over, nervously looking up to make eye contact with the towering illithid before addressing him. “Emperor, I have something in the kitchen for you.”

Kronnis could sense the faint confusion and curiosity that the Emperor felt at her apprehensive demeanor. Wordlessly, they joined her, and in the privacy of the kitchen she pulled a wrapped parcel from the fridge. “I stopped by the butcher’s while shopping today - asked about any organs high in enzymes or hormones.” She brought the package over to a plate to unwrap it. “I wouldn’t know myself, so I hope this is right. He said the pancreas should be high in both so it seemed like the best option. I… well, I didn’t know if you’d want it cooked or not, I can fix it up in a flash, if you’d like.” The plate was offered to the Emperor, a hopeful and expectant expression on her face. Juices blotted away, yet still shining with residual moisture, the elongated organ sat on white porcelain, its fleshy texture tinted a faint yellow. “I thought it would be nice if you were able to eat with us for once.”

A quiver ran through the Emperor’s tentacles. He stared at the plate for brief seconds before his hands jumped up to accept it. “Thank you.” His voice was soft, and thrummed with emotions that Kronnis knew he did not commonly feel. “No one has ever gone out of their way to accommodate me like this before.”

Molly’s face had gone red. “Oh, it was no trouble, really.”

Outwardly recovering from the touching surprise, the Emperor’s normally inscrutable demeanor returned. “I appreciate it all the same. Do not concern yourself with cooking this. I can eat it as-is.”

As the three of them left the kitchen, Kronnis sent a private inquiry, pulling his partner out of conflicting sentiments of bewilderment and appreciation with his invasive poking. “You’re doing a lot better with those emotional connections you claimed to struggle with the other day. Are we scrapping the plan to switch sides in favor of Voldemort then?”

Claws curled protectively around the plate. “That plan was barely on the table. I suggest you cease considering it.”

Kronnis sent the mental equivalent of a disappointed frown before retreating from his partner’s mind.

They took their usual seats, joining the rest of the attendees at the table. As he piled his plate high with chicken and vegetables, Kronnis saw Moody inspecting his own chicken leg suspiciously a few chairs over. The wizard’s normal eye was focused in front of him on his food, but the electric blue of his magical eye had swiveled to peer at the Emperor’s plate. “Hmph. Was wondering why that was in the fridge.”

His statement caught the attention of several other people sitting close by, and Kronnis saw their eyes follow Moody’s gaze.

“I rarely source alternatives for myself, though organs like these are considered delicacies in some illithid colonies. Molly was kind enough to take the initiative herself,” the Emperor replied, delicately cutting into the flesh of his dinner, silverware dwarfed comically in his hands.

Normally the Emperor’s meals were quick in-and-out affairs, the illithid being eager to return to his work managing the commercial enterprises of the city. The thought of taking the time to harvest additional organs for later consumption had likely never crossed his mind, especially as they had never had a problem finding appropriate victims.

At this, Hermione couldn’t resist chiming in with her encyclopedic knowledge of this plane. “There are some dishes in other cultures that incorporate organs, like foie gras and haggis. They’re… usually cooked though.” She looked a bit unsettled as she watched a forkful of meat disappear into the Emperor’s mouth, sharp teeth briefly visible. His alien facial structure gave no indication as to whether it was being chewed or swallowed whole.

“Cooking this would damage some of the enzymes and hormones stored within. Unlike you, my physiology is not bothered by the negative effects of eating raw meat.”

Sirius cleared his throat at that comment. “So, are you kids excited to get back to Hogwarts tomorrow?” The abrupt change in topic seemed to throw the children for a loop. They grumbled about the packing they had left to do, or last-minute homework that had yet to be finished.

The Emperor let dark amusem*nt flow through their connection, and Kronnis realized that the mind flayer had deliberately slipped in information that would cause such a reaction in Sirius. “Are you teasing him?” he asked his partner through their mental connection, sending an emotional mixture of disbelief and delight back.

The smug satisfaction oozing from his partner’s side of the connection gave him all the answer he needed.

Kronnis hid his smile behind another mouthful of chicken. “I knew this vacation would be good for you.”

“It has been… refreshing, not having to hide who I am from those I am working with.” The contentment accompanying his response was tinged with a sense of superiority. Reading between the lines, Kronnis recognized that the Emperor was referring to his resentment at having to hide what he was in Baldur’s Gate. As an illithid, he generally considered himself above those they worked with. Revealing himself as such publicly, however, would bring a swift halt to their operations.

The topic of conversation at the table had gone through several shifts during their mental exchange and private musings. Harry was now leaning over to inspect an old photograph that Moody had produced from his coat pocket – a group shot of old Order members by the looks of it – and Hermione was discussing their newly-assigned Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook with Ron, Fred, and George.

“-the first chapter, there’s nothing about practicing spells, it’s all theory.” Her words were irate as she finished her tangent.

Ron looked appalled. “Can’t believe you’ve already started reading the textbooks. We’re not even at Hogwarts yet!”

“It’s our OWL year, we need to be prepared for the exams,” she huffed.

“Hermione, you know those aren’t ‘till the end of the year, right?”

She rolled her eyes, but one of the twins spoke up before she was able to respond. “I’m more concerned about what sort of teacher would assign something that’s all theory-based.” He lowered his voice. “We heard Dumbledore was having trouble finding anyone for the job, what with the past couple of years and all.”

Ron grumbled. “As long as they don’t try to kill us or erase our memories again, I’ll see it as an improvement.”

The other twin looked in the direction of Kronnis and the Emperor. “Did he ever offer you the job? From the stories you told it sounds like you have plenty of experience fighting off dark creatures.”

Ron’s ears suddenly perked up. “Yeah, you were fighting cultists and serial killers and those hyena monsters, you must have tons of cool things to show us.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but we’re not exactly qualified to teach you how to use your spells,” Kronnis responded. “I can’t even use a wand.” And hadn’t that experiment been a bitter disappointment. A couple had been carefully loaned out, with an explanation that normally wizards could use other wands, or could at least channel weak or uncontrolled magic through them. Each one had felt dead in his hands, nothing more than a sprig of wood. “In fact, we’re probably going to be attending quite a few first-year classes to learn the basics of how your magic is supposed to be used. Basic survival strategies I could do, but a whole class on defensive magic? I barely even know the difference between what you call a hex and a curse.”

Ron deflated, sagging in his chair. “Oh.”

Kronnis debated with himself on the merits of sharing what was supposed to be secret Order intelligence. “You know what, if you have a problem with the professor, let us know and we can have a chat with her.”

“You know who it is?” Hermione asked.

“We ran into her at the Ministry. Unless Dumbledore managed to find someone else at the last second, I have a good idea of who it’s going to be. Can’t spoil the surprise though, Dumbledore’s orders.” He winked.

“Does she work for the Ministry?” Harry asked with apprehension, having tuned into their conversation after an intrigued Sirius took possession of the photograph Moody had brought, reminiscing with the other Order member on friends that had passed away during the last war.

“Now that would be telling.” Kronnis leaned forward conspiratorially, away from Sirius and Moody. “But between you and me, I’d be careful around her.”

Harry seemed to chew on that for a moment, but before he was able to respond, loud voices were heard over the din of conversation as Kingsley, Remus, and Tonks announced their departure. It seemed this was what the other guests had been waiting for, as Moody stood, turning to Molly to let her know that he was going to take care of a boggart before he stepped out. Whatever that was.

“Sounds like the party’s dying down, we’d best head to bed before it gets too late. We’ll see you kids at Hogwarts tomorrow. Don’t take it personally if we don’t say hello,” he joked. They had an appointment early the next morning with Snape to be apparated to the castle, hopefully before any other professors showed up. A quick tour was planned so they wouldn’t be completely lost in halls they had been told were labyrinthine.

Standing, they approached their host once the others had departed. Sirius had a lonely air about him as they thanked him for his hospitality, and then his face shifted to heartbreaking disappointment when the Emperor said that they could not guarantee their attendance for some sort of holiday during the winter months. Kronnis almost felt manipulated by the sad eyes that roved over the room, halting on the few children that had not gone upstairs yet to prepare for bed, and resolved to figure out some way to make it up to the man.

When Harry awoke the next day, it was to total chaos. He could hear Mrs. Weasley yelling about how Fred and George had accidentally knocked Ginny down the stairs with their bewitched trunks, while she was simultaneously rushing everyone to hurry up and finish getting ready.

He realized with a shock that he still hadn’t given Kronnis an answer to the drow’s proposal of keeping in contact through the Emperor’s mind-reading abilities, and raced downstairs to the drawing room, hoping to catch them before they left. He’d had a short discussion on the matter with Ron and Hermione last night before going to bed. Ron hadn’t liked the idea, but Hermione had pointed out that Kronnis and the Emperor had been helpful so far, and that having a way to go to them for advice could be useful. Harry himself had mostly been concerned about the thing they had found in his head, and was anxious to monitor the connection Voldemort had to him.

Bursting through the door to the drawing room, he quickly regretted his delay once he saw that they were standing next to Snape, prepared to leave. Three pairs of eyes turned to him as he froze. Kronnis, who was clutching a black umbrella that Harry had never seen before, leaned back from where he had been pointing at something in the book Snape was holding.

A black eyebrow was slowly raised on the professor’s unimpressed face. Harry blushed, wishing he had taken an extra minute to change out of his sleepwear.

“Sorry, I just-” he focused on Kronnis, and then the Emperor, who appeared strikingly mundane with a tiny-looking trunk in his hands, held like a briefcase. “Your idea, with the-” he broke off again, acutely aware of Snape’s presence in the room. “With checking up on me. I think it’s a good idea. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course, we can figure out the details at Hogwarts,” Kronnis smiled at him.

“Good. I’ll uh, I’ll see you later.” He made his escape, slamming the door behind him.

Not the best start to his day, he thought to himself as he rushed back upstairs to get dressed.

They had already spent yesterday packing their belongings, a difficult affair resembling a scavenger hunt throughout the house. Luckily, Harry’s personal effects hadn’t been scattered as much as the others, having not resided in Grimmauld Place as long. Running through the house to help Ron look for a missing pair of socks, he found himself glad that their friendship was settling back into a sense of normality.

The bad mood that had followed Harry like a storm cloud ever since his arrival in Grimmauld Place had barely had a chance to dissipate before the revelation of Ron being made prefect over him had kindled it anew. At least, until Sirius told him that his father hadn’t been made prefect either. Kronnis’ view on the matter helped as well, since Harry certainly didn’t want to spend his time patrolling the corridors. Seeing his friend excited by the new role given to him no longer brought forth feelings of jealousy.

Socks eventually found, Mrs. Weasley was finally able to corral them into the entryway, where several Order members waited to escort them to King’s Cross.

The walk to the station was a blur, and before Harry knew it, he was saying his goodbyes as the train departed. Ron and Hermione awkwardly excused themselves to join a meeting in the prefect’s carriage, leaving Harry and Ginny to find a compartment and reserve seats for their friends once they returned.

Students stared at him wherever he encountered them, nudging others to point and whisper. As they got off the train in Hogsmeade, where everyone was bustling to catch a carriage to the castle, he was given a wide berth by the rest of the school’s population. The Daily Prophet’s lies had apparently poisoned the very air around him.

The appearance of what looked to be black skeletal horses leashed to the carriage they were walking towards startled him out of his thoughts, and he halted on the path.

“What are those things?” Harry asked his friends.

Ron turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Those horses,” Harry pointed at one of them.

“What horses?”

Their back and forth lasted a bit longer, until Harry physically pulled his friend to stand two feet from one of them.

“Mate, there’s nothing there. Are you alright?” Ron raised a concerned brow.

Harry felt ill, unsure if this was some magical effect that had bewitched him. “Can’t you see what’s pulling the carriages?”

“The carriages have always pulled themselves; they look the same as they usually do.”

Why couldn’t Ron see them? They looked real enough to Harry, their white eyes appearing to follow his movements.

“It’s all right, you’re not going mad, I can see them too,” a girl with platinum blonde hair said from atop the carriage, lowering the upside-down newspaper she was holding.

Harry stared into milky white eyes for a couple more seconds before giving up, carefully edging away from the strange creatures. After they joined the girl in the carriage, Hermione introduced her as Luna ‘Loony’ Lovegood, a Ravenclaw a year below them. It seemed the nickname Loony wasn’t a positive one, as Hermione quickly corrected herself to calling the girl Luna, guilt in her voice.

“I’ve been able to see them since my first year, they’ve always pulled the carriages,” Luna noted once the carriage started moving, her wide eyes staring at Harry.

Hermione tried to spark up a conversation with the girl as they approached the castle, complimenting her butterbeer cork necklace, to which Luna replied that it was a charm to keep away nargles.

Harry, having no idea what nargles were, kept quiet.

A short silence passed before Luna brought up a new topic. “I’m excited to meet the delegates from Baldur’s Gate. My father published an article about how Baba Yaga led ancient Slavic wizards into caves to save them from witch trials. Baldur’s Gate must have been founded by these wizards.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Harry said politely, suddenly confronted with the reality that everyone else at Hogwarts would be forming a very different view of Kronnis and the Emperor than what he knew to be true.

The rest of the carriage trip to the castle was absent of conversation. Loud chatter greeted them once more in the Entrance Hall, and nearly deafened them upon stepping foot in the Great Hall. Luna split off to sit at the Ravenclaw table, while Harry and his friends found spots at the Gryffindor table.

Several classmates went silent as they approached, as though they had just been talking about something they didn’t want Harry to hear about. The other half continued whispering, stealing glances at the staff table. Harry realized they weren’t the only ones as he took a closer look at the bustle of the room. Groups of students clustered together here and there, excited faces craning to look up to where said table was elevated above the rest of the hall.

Following their gaze, Harry figured that their behavior shouldn’t have been a mystery to him, given how gossip-prone the student body was. Kronnis and the Emperor were seated in prominent positions on Dumbledore’s left side, and on his right was the empty chair that Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, would soon occupy.

Having changed out of the casual clothes he had worn around Grimmauld Place, Kronnis was now wearing a formal-looking vest over a dark shirt with a tall collar, embroidered and decorated in a manner befitting a noble. He held himself as one too; back rigid, nose high, and carrying an aura of self-importance that Harry had seen all too often on Draco Malfoy.

The Emperor had simply donned the dark veil Harry had seen him wear at the Ministry, when they had run into each other outside the courtroom. Only his clawed hands and purple eyes could be seen, the latter standing out even from the far end of the hall as they glowed under his hood.

They were engaging in conversation with a familiar squat woman in a bright pink cardigan, sitting to Kronnis’ left.

Harry’s eyes widened. “It’s that Umbridge woman,” he hissed to Ron and Hermione. “She was at my hearing. I think she works for Fudge.”

“That must be who Kronnis was talking about,” Hermione whispered.

Just then, the door next to the staff table opened and the older witch walked in, taking a seat at the end of the table where Hagrid usually sat. Harry had seen her leading the first years away from the train earlier, but now that he still couldn’t find Hagrid at the staff table, he was growing increasingly concerned for his friend.

Several seconds later, the entrance door to the Great Hall opened again to allow Professor McGonagall to lead the first years in. The sorting commenced with the usual fanfare, but Harry could still make out some whispers from nearby classmates. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were engaged in a heated discussion that he suddenly wished he hadn’t overheard.

“-so tall, dark, and mysterious,” Lavender sighed, still staring at the staff table.

Parvati shook her head. “He’s probably hiding his face for a reason. He could be horribly disfigured – oh, maybe he’s like Professor Moody and his nose is missing!” Her tone turned wistful as her eyes moved from the Emperor to Kronnis. “Lord Teken’rret on the other hand looks like a proper Prince Charming, straight out of a fantasy. Just look at those ears! And his hair is like silk.” Their stifled giggles drowned out the next name McGonagall called from the front of the hall.

Harry hadn’t been blind to Kronnis’ handsome features, but hearing his classmates discussing the drow like this left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable. A strange sense of foreboding blossomed in his chest as he recalled how insufferable the student body had been when Lockhart had been a professor in his second year.

Once the last first year had been sorted, and McGonagall had removed the Sorting Hat and stool from the front of the hall, Dumbledore rose to his feet. With a beaming smile, he welcomed them all to Hogwarts and invited them to dig into the food that appeared before them with a clap of his hands. Ron wasted no time in filling his plate, with Harry following his example at a more sedate pace.

He felt unsettled throughout the feast and frequently looked back at the staff table, where Umbridge was still speaking with the Emperor. The illithid’s plate was customarily empty again, and Harry wondered why he never bothered to eat during meals, now that he knew the Emperor was, at least, capable of eating. And wasn’t that an unpleasant memory. He quickly shifted his thoughts back to Umbridge, lest he allow the thought of eating raw organs to spoil his appetite. Although, once his eyes caught sight of her pink cardigan again, he realized that it was just as distasteful a mental image.

During his hearing she had come off as condescending and biased, clearly working with Fudge to invalidate Harry’s arguments. He understood now why Kronnis had warned them to be careful. It was unlikely that her behavior had changed since then.

As students finished working their way through dessert, and the volume in the Great Hall slowly picked up again, Dumbledore stood to give his traditional speech. The room quickly silenced itself, heads turning to face the headmaster.

Dumbledore began with the usual start of term notices, going over rules that, in Harry’s experience, were only a suggestion. The headmaster then gestured with his left hand to draw the hall’s attention back to Kronnis and the Emperor, who waved a polite greeting.

“As I am sure many of you have already read in the Daily Prophet, we have a pair of guests honoring us with their presence this year. Kronnis Teken’rret and the Emperor are delegates from the magical city of Baldur’s Gate, which has been severed from the rest of the world for centuries. It’s my pleasure to welcome them back to the greater magical community. They’re here to learn about our culture and promote cooperation between our Ministry and the governing body of Baldur’s Gate. I ask that you give them the same respect you afforded our guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons last year.” A round of applause followed this announcement.

He continued on to discuss the now yearly change in staffing. “Professor Grubbly-Plank will substitute for Hagrid in teaching Care of Magical Creatures, and I’m delighted to introduce Professor Dolores Umbridge, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Applause started up again – noticeably less enthusiastic this time.

Dumbledore began announcing information on Quidditch tryouts, but was suddenly stopped by an unexpected sound. A soft “hem, hem,” was heard from the headmaster’s left, and as Umbridge stood – barely an inch taller than the Emperor’s seated height – Harry realized that she intended to make a speech of her own.

She began by thanking the headmaster, and then her high-pitched voice took on a more condescending tone as she addressed the students as though they were five years old. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say. And to see such happy little faces looking back at me.” Her own face contorted into what Harry assumed must be an attempt at a benevolent smile, but only served to accentuate her toad-like appearance.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance.” Umbridge seemed to be putting specific emphasis on this, and Harry could see Kronnis nodding along. “The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

Her speech sounded rehearsed. Harry wondered how long she’d been preparing for this, and why exactly Kronnis was agreeing with her. He focused back on her words once he realized that he’d let his attention slip.

“-without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’ sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation-” It was no use. His eyes wandered around the hall, and he noticed that barely anyone was still listening to her. Whispers had filled the hall again and many students looked ready to fall asleep. She must have learned her public speaking skills from Professor Binns.

“-some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment.” Each word was slow and deliberate. Intended for some sort of effect, but her delivery left him feeling lost. “Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned.”

She self-importantly raised her head as she finished her speech, regarding the student body as though they were subjects of her kingdom. Harry had no intention of following anything this toady had to say. “Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

Umbridge finally sat down, prompting Dumbledore and the rest of the staff table to begin applauding. The students joined shortly after, halfhearted claps filling the hall.

The headmaster stood once again to continue his announcement regarding Quidditch tryouts, but Hermione’s muttering distracted Harry. “Very enlightening indeed.”

“Sounded dull to me,” Ron responded, absently continuing to play with his silverware.

Hermione shook her head. “It explains a lot. ‘Progress for progress’ sake must be discouraged.’ ‘Pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited,’” she quoted Umbridge.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

“It means,” she said grimly, “that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.”

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Kronnis wasn’t surprised when Harry burst into the drawing room. In fact, he’d purposely stalled their departure to give the boy a chance to speak with them before they left. Fortunately, Snape had shown a great deal of interest in the darker potions books that Kronnis showed him as they’d organized their belongings for departure.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out the best way to sell their plan of keeping in contact at Hogwarts. The truly difficult part lay in judging whether Harry would be willing to trust a new set of authority figures.

Based on what they’d heard about previous years, the track records of the other adults at Hogwarts weren’t exactly squeaky-clean. An alarming number of teachers had either tried to hurt Harry, kill him, erase his memories, bullied him regularly, or just dismissed him whenever he came to them with information. Not to mention the way the Order had kept him in the dark all summer and refused to tell him anything about their plans – or lack thereof – regarding Voldemort.

The Emperor’s prediction had turned out to be correct, once again. Whether it was their offers of personal assistance with the strange magic in the boy’s mind, Kronnis’ blooming friendship with the one adult Harry appeared closest to, or the approachability they’d fostered over the past two weeks, something they’d done had been enough to sway the answer in their favor.

Harry seemed to constantly find himself right in the middle of things. As long as they played their cards right, actually listened to him, and helped with any problems that came up, he’d make a good informant.

Kronnis turned back to Snape after Harry bolted out of the room. “As I was saying, we’d be happy to let you borrow or make copies of these.”

Snape thanked him, thumbing through one of the books in question. “I believe this is one of the first manuals published by Swoopstikes. Worth quite a fortune now, its publication was outlawed by Minister Milliphutt in the 1840s during a spree of legislation changes.”

“A foundational education on potion brewing is certainly necessary before this knowledge is of any use to us. Would you mind reviewing your lesson plans for the year and recommending the ones most helpful for us to attend?” The Emperor’s question brought Snape’s eyes away from the text.

“Most of the first-year classes throughout the first weeks should help you get a grasp on the basics. I will see which potions in later years are simple enough for beginners to attempt – pairing you with an experienced student would mitigate most of the dangers. Extra copies of textbooks can be found in the library,” Snape said curtly.

The Emperor nodded in acknowledgement. A moment was taken to finish fastening a veil to his face, hiding the tentacles coiled around his own neck and shoulders. “Let us depart then, I do not intend to get lost in the castle because we spent all our time chatting instead of learning the halls.”

Snape handed the book back to be stowed for the trip. “Quite. I trust you did not have issues apparating with the headmaster?”

Still thankful that he hadn’t lost his breakfast in the middle of the Ministry Atrium, Kronnis gave a cheery “Nope.”

Satisfactory answer received; Snape held out an arm for them to grasp. A vaguely familiar sensation pulled at Kronnis’ navel, and with a swirl he was suddenly standing in a field, staring up at a large castle.

Squinting in the harsh light of day, he quickly brought up his trusty umbrella, its black canopy opening to shield him from the sun’s rays. He had been promised dour weather in this country, and desperately hoped today’s bright sunlight was a fluke.

The Emperor casually levitated the trunk he’d been carrying, no longer needing physical contact to transport it with them. It was magically expanded, provided to them by the headmaster to transport their belongings for convenience’s sake.

Following Snape up the path towards what must be Hogwarts, Kronnis tried not to gape. The castle truly was striking, larger than any freestanding structure in Baldur’s Gate. “We need to meet up with Harry as soon as possible to take a look at that map,” he told the Emperor privately, realizing that their concerns about getting hopelessly lost might be more realistic than he’d first assumed.

Agreement flowed into his mind, and they quickly decided to contact Harry at breakfast the next day.

Entering the castle, the interior was no less impressive. Sconces lit up the Gothic and Romanesque features studding stone walls and ceilings. Moving paintings littered the halls, and the doors they passed were of a much more agreeable size to the Emperor’s tall form, which had often forced the illithid to stoop in Grimmauld Place.

Snape led them down seemingly endless corridors, up through an impressive set of moving staircases, and eventually brought them to a painting depicting a group of wizards feasting at a long table. “Like many others in Hogwarts, this painting is enchanted to open when the correct password is spoken in front of it.” He drew his wand and tapped the painting’s elaborate frame. “I will change it to one of your choosing. An innocuous phrase or word that cannot easily be guessed would be ideal.”

Faced with having to come up with a password on the spot, Kronnis looked at his partner in the hope that he would have some ideas. The Emperor’s eyes were fixed on a particular place, and when Kronnis followed his gaze back to the painting, he found a thin wizard to the side of the table filling his bowl with vegetable soup. “Fiddlehead?” the Emperor suggested out loud, his warm voice bringing Kronnis back to the unforgettable night when they had first intertwined their minds and bodies.

“Fiddlehead,” he agreed with a smile, turning back to Snape. The wizard nodded and waved his wand over the painting, repeating their chosen passphrase. The frame swung off the wall to reveal a well-furnished sitting room with large windows overlooking the courtyard. Kronnis could see a door in the back, likely leading to a bedroom.

The Emperor directed the trunk to settle on the floor next to one of the plush sofas. Unpacking could be handled later; a tour of Hogwarts awaited them.

The following hours were spent wandering the castle and memorizing routes between their rooms, the Great Hall, the library, and several other points of interest. Individual classrooms would be a bit harder to locate, depending on where they were coming from, but they could always ask passing students for directions if needed.

Even without the energy of hundreds of warm bodies crowding its halls, Hogwarts felt alive. Every time they returned to the moving staircases – seemingly a hub of travel – the chitchat an entire tower’s worth of paintings droned through the air. Some even tried to engage them in conversation, asking for opinions on topics ranging from historical arguments to which painting wore the most fashionable dress.

The subtle movements of statues and suits of armor played games with his eyes, but somehow always remained still once Kronnis’ full attention rested on them.

Sunlight streamed in through large windows, infusing the interior with a welcoming glow. As the hours passed and not a single cloud dimmed the light, Kronnis resigned himself to once again relying on his umbrella, unfurling it as they exited through the main entrance to wander the grounds.

The Emperor turned to Snape as they crested a hill. “How far do the Hogwarts grounds extend? This area seems empty enough, but surely muggles would not miss such a large castle if they wandered through the region.”

“Numerous wards protect the school grounds. The castle itself is bewitched to appear as a crumbling ruin to muggles, discouraging investigation,” Snape replied, his finger pointing out the borders of the protective spells. “The Black Lake, the Quidditch field over the hill, and parts of the Forbidden Forest are all included in the wards.”

“Forbidden Forest?” Kronnis raised an eyebrow, looking in the direction of the dark mass of trees the professor had gestured to.

Snape followed his gaze with distaste. “The Forest is infested with all manner of dangerous magical creatures, and is normally off-limits to students. Not that it stops them.” His lip curled.

“Infested, you say?” A sharp smile cut across Kronnis’ face. “As in, these dangerous magical creatures are an unwanted presence?”

Snape looked back at him, schooling his expression. “Some. The Forest is home to several benign creatures, such as centaurs and unicorns. The majority of its denizens, however, would likely cause a significant hazard to a student wandering around unaccompanied.”

“Would there be any… problems… if someone were to take a walk through the Forest to familiarize themselves with the local fauna and, say… cull back some of the more dangerous populations?” Kronnis couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had the chance to blast apart some regular monsters. No complicated schemes, no figuring out who was behind anything, just him and mindless beasts intent on murder and savagery. The familiar itch of wild magic surged under his skin at the prospect.

The professor paused before responding. “If that individual had the time and inclination to wander around looking for trouble, I would suggest starting with the Acromantula colony, or hunting down any trolls that remain in the forest.” He had clearly picked up on the implications of Kronnis’ words. “Acromantula fangs in particular are valuable, as their venom can be extracted and used in various potions.”

“And what are Acromantula, exactly?”

“Giant spiders, roughly the size of a horse, but specimens with a leg span as large as fifteen feet have been found.”

“Giant spiders,” Kronnis echoed softly, reminiscing on past skirmishes he’d had with similar monsters. “I almost feel like I’m back home.” His wistful sigh could have been misinterpreted for a homesickness and yearning for the drow cities of the Underdark, had this conversation taken place in Baldur’s Gate.

The Emperor took over the conversation as they resumed their wandering. “I believe a nearby wizarding settlement was mentioned. Hogsmeade? We were considering a visit to experience its culture.” Another move to cement their cover story.

Snape was well aware of their plans, but they had to be careful to get into the habit of keeping up their personas, even if it looked as though the castle grounds were bare of eavesdroppers. And honestly, Kronnis was curious to see what a purely magical village would be like, so it wasn’t even a lie to say that they were interested in visiting it.

They changed direction, Snape steering them towards the path that would lead them to Hogsmeade, passing by the impressive-looking Quidditch pitch along the way. As they crested the next hill, they were able to make out a lone figure in the distance approaching the castle.

“It appears the rest of the staff is arriving. Hogsmeade is a popular location for apparition. if you follow that path it shouldn’t take too long to arrive in the village,” Snape informed them.

Meeting up with the figure, Kronnis recognized Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. They’d met her once before, during the Order meeting where Dumbledore had introduced them to most of its members.

“Professor McGonagall, good to see you again,” the Emperor greeted her, pretending that they had instead met her upon their supposed arrival at Hogwarts just over a week ago.

She gave them a curt nod and a wry smile. “I hope you’ve settled in well since I last saw you. I know Hogwarts can be daunting to new arrivals.”

“It is a magnificent building. The grandest constructions in Baldur’s Gate would have tough competition here.” His deep voice played up their conversation for an imaginary audience.

Snape interrupted the subsequent small talk, taking several steps in the direction of the castle. “If I may, we should return to Hogwarts. Minerva and I will need to prepare our offices before the start-of-the-year staff meeting.”

“Of course,” McGonagall nodded, resuming her pace up the hill.

The Emperor fell into step beside her, with Kronnis trailing just behind. The walk back to the castle entrance was filled with questions and answers about the inner workings of Hogwarts, Snape and McGonagall taking turns to explain their duties as the heads of their houses and other responsibilities they held as professors.

Back in the entrance hall, their group split up, McGonagall heading to her office and Snape confidently leading the way back to their guest rooms. The potions books were handed over, and then Snape departed, his last words a reminder on where the staff room was located.

As soon as the painting closed again, Kronnis felt his partner’s words in his head. “You intend to venture into the Forbidden Forest.” It was a statement, the Emperor being perfectly aware of Kronnis’ preferred leisure activities.

“The idea is tempting,” he admitted with a smile. “It’s not too far from the castle for some evening entertainment.”

Purple eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before the Emperor focused his attention on their trunk, manipulating its latch with telekinesis and waving a hand to begin unpacking their belongings. “I only ask that you are careful. We are still unfamiliar with the creatures of this world.”

Touched by his words, Kronnis deepened their constantly lingering mental connection to let waves of emotions meet and mix. The Emperor trusted him to hold his own, but rarely admitted to worrying about him.

The response he received in return contained a complicated wash of emotions, concepts bubbling up in the seafoam that collided with his own. An all-too-mortal unease at the unknown, smothered under the pressure of logical thinking, a fondness that came from years of familiarity, and a not-so-small hint of possessiveness.

They stayed like this for a while, letting each other’s emotions ripple through the backs of their minds as they sorted out their rooms. To Kronnis’ surprise, the bedchamber was already set up with a single bed that dominated the room, saving them from having to request a change to their furniture.

The Emperor commented that Dumbledore – either insightful enough to notice immediately, or simply familiar with the concept himself – had already figured out that when referring to each other as ‘partners’ they had meant a deeper connection than many would first assume. It had been one of the few insights the illithid had managed to glean from the headmaster’s mind during their practice bout of mind-reading.

“I’m surprised no one at Grimmauld said anything. Hermione keeps giving us weird looks, but Harry’s totally clueless. He didn’t even bat an eye when he saw how our beds were rearranged.”

“You are being unfair to the boy, he had other things on his mind at the time.”

The quip, a reference to the passenger in the boy’s mind, brought forth a chuckle. “Is that supposed to be another joke?” He could sense the Emperor’s faint delight at amusing him, but no answer was forthcoming.

It did not take long before the last items were put away. In a couple of days, they would have to return to Baldur’s Gate to collect several additional supplies and sort out their affairs in the city.

“You should brush up on your illithid potential if you are going to seek out fights.” The suggestion reminded him that he had not practiced with the Emperor in some time now, their current situation limiting their activities.

Kronnis had lost most of his ability to access illithid powers, no longer having a live tadpole reclining in his brain to facilitate their easy use. His own consciousness simply wasn’t designed to pull upon psionics in the same way.

Several weeks after the death of the Netherbrain, they’d discovered by accident that some latent talent lingered in him. A pitifully small mind blast, loosed in frustration at the escaping back of a cultist he’d been tracking – one of the remnants of the Bhaal temple – had been a pleasant surprise.

The Emperor had taken a great interest in the development of his abilities and eagerly took the time to help him refine them. The current theory was that the mind-boggling amount of tadpoles that Kronnis had allowed to wriggle through the gap between his eye and skull must have permanently altered his brain.

Some things remained beyond him, such as the flight he had enjoyed freely using in the past, but mind blasts came easier to him now, as well as several other favoured abilities he had been well acquainted with.

Kronnis agreed easily and they settled themselves comfortably on chairs before connecting their minds, the alien intellect of his partner opening up before him. He let himself be enveloped by it, feeling its emotions, its swirling astral otherworldliness, and its psionic energies pulling him in. The Emperor was magnetic, and Kronnis quickly focused on drawing up similar energies within himself, lest he find himself distracted and overwhelmed by the indescribable textures of their shared minds.

The approval radiating off of his partner’s mind was intoxicating, pushing him to dig deeper, seeking out all the scraps of power that he could find. His splintered and torn brain, half-subsumed and replaced with illithid tissue, slowly surrendered its essence. Kronnis gathered it in his mind’s eye, presenting it to the presence surrounding him.

A ghostly touch – mental coaching from his partner – instructed him through the process of shaping it. Wisps of energy flowed through Kronnis as he went through practiced motions – exercises that had helped him learn to draw on his power faster and more skillfully throughout the years. He could feel the hum surrounding him and knew that if anyone were to walk in on them now, they would see him surrounded by a faint shimmer, concentrated tendrils of energy visible to the naked eye and easily mistaken for tentacles that curled in the air around him.

“I continue to be impressed by your progress.” The Emperor’s voice was stronger through their connection. Pride dripped into Kronnis’ brain, invigorating his nerves with a heady burning sensation that he desperately drank up. “Your mind is truly something special.”

Silent appreciation poured from within Kronnis, as well as his own admiration for the Emperor – lavished upon the celestial body his mind was a satellite to. “Coming from a creature as… magnificent as you, that must be the highest praise in the world. Though, your capabilities are akin to that of the gods, shining as bright and blinding as the sun.” His telepathic response triggered a dichotomous blend of hunger and satisfaction in the mind flayer, paving the way to a gratification that Kronnis was all too eager to indulge.

“We will be late to the meeting.” The implication was clear. As though rallied by his partner’s words, Kronnis could feel the soft skin of tentacles seeking out contact with him, prompting his eyes to open.

The light in the room had barely changed, and a quick look out the window told him that it was not as late as he feared.

“I would say we have some time left.” He met the heated gaze of the Emperor and focused lingering psionic energy to caress the mind flayer’s thoughts with emotions and desires, mental hand much more present than usual.

A brief shudder overcame his partner, glowing eyes clenching shut. When they opened again, a clawed hand was raised in the air and Kronnis felt a familiar telekinetic grip envelop him, drawing him well within reach of tentacles that yearned to show him just how magnificent and capable they truly were.

It was a couple of hours later when Kronnis opened the door to the staff room. The sun had made progress on its descent towards the horizon, signalling the fast approach of the Hogwarts Express.

Many of the mismatched chairs in the long room already had occupants. He recognized Snape and McGonagall at the far end, speaking with a very short man that reminded Kronnis of a gnome or halfling, and a woman with curly grey hair and hints of dirt on the hem of her robes.

Two seats near the door had been left unoccupied. He quickly claimed them, the Emperor settling down next to him. Curious eyes had followed them ever since their entrance, but it was not until they sat at the table that a woman in red and white spoke up. “You must be the Ambassadors from Baldur’s Gate. We’re glad to have you joining us for the year.” Smiling at them, she introduced herself as Madam Pomfrey, the matron working in the Hospital Wing.

Kronnis thanked her. “It’s been a refreshing trip, your rich culture has been wonderful to learn about.”

A different witch spoke next, declaring herself to be the Arithmancy teacher, Septima Vector. “Your own must be intriguing as well. You simply won’t believe the speculation that’s been circulating this past week.” Her statement was made with eager words and an expectant expression.

“Unsurprising. I hope we will be able to dispel most rumors in time. It is regretful that we were only available for a short interview while at the Ministry,” the Emperor replied.

They recounted the basics of their cover story again, and then regaled the professors with some sanitized facts and stories about Baldur’s Gate, drawing the attention of most of the room.

Shortly before the meeting was due to begin, and right in the middle of a watered-down explanation of cobble parties, a familiar figure in pink entered the room, taking one of the last chairs available. Kronnis spared a moment to give Umbridge a friendly wave after she’d gotten comfortable. Her seat was at the end of the table, just on the fringe of the circle of professors that had monopolized the chairs around them.

They would have to find the time to speak with her after the meeting. No one else in the room looked pleased to see her there, which suited Kronnis just fine. If they were the only friendly faces she had in Hogwarts, it would be much easier to sway her influence.

Dumbledore swept through the door right on time, taking the slightly more elaborate chair that was obviously arranged for the headmaster to sit in. “I’m glad you were all able to make it back for another year at Hogwarts,” he began, looking around the room at the assembled witches and wizards. “And I see you’re already familiar with our guests.”

Nods greeted this statement, some professors stealing glances at them before focusing again on Dumbledore. “As part of an arrangement to promote cultural exchange, Mr. Teken’rret and the Emperor may be sitting in on some of your classes and are open to any questions or discussions regarding the magic and culture of Baldur’s Gate.”

The topic was soon shifted to regular school-year business, with teachers bringing up scheduling concerns and updating patrol routes for the prefects.

After almost an hour of this, with Kronnis growing increasingly bored, the meeting was officially ended. Dumbledore took a moment to remind the room to make it to the Great Hall before the students arrived, but didn’t stay much longer, leaving to prepare for the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. It seemed the responsibilities of a headmaster were ever-present.

Chatter in the room picked up again as professors moved around to catch up with late arrivals and close friends. Kronnis felt the Emperor’s intent to stand and joined him in walking over to Umbridge, who had so far not said a single word to the other staff members.

“It’s a pleasure to see a familiar face,” he greeted her warmly. “I’ve been looking forward to your class. We were hoping to hear more about the new curriculum you’ll be teaching.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s a long overdue decision, in my opinion. These poor children have barely had a competent teacher in years. The position almost seems like a revolving door, and each one hired after Professor Quirrell has been a disappointment. Why, two years ago the headmaster employed a werewolf! Dangerously reckless, if you ask me.”

“Really? This is the first we’ve heard of this.” Kronnis raised his eyebrows in feigned shock.

“Simply dreadful,” Umbridge shook her head, “and just last year, an escaped Death Eater was able to impersonate the man Dumbledore hired. Trust me when I say that the Ministry will not be making mistakes like these. The education of young witches and wizards is of vital importance to us.”

The Emperor nodded. “We are glad to see the matter taken seriously. I trust a competent witch like yourself will be able to correct past mistakes and oversights in the syllabus.”

A pleased smile grew on Umbridge’s face as her simpering continued, taking on a well-practiced tone. “The Ministry exists to serve the people. Reforms in education are being worked on and traditions will be evaluated to determine if they need to be pruned or perfected. Changes will be polished to ensure that only the most well-structured innovations are kept, as progress for progress’s sake should be discouraged. We cannot allow our world to lie stagnant, but a balance between modernization and our traditional culture must be kept.”

Kronnis thought her self-satisfied smile made her look like a bit of a toad, but wisely kept that to himself.

“I must say we agree wholeheartedly. We ourselves are excited to be part of Baldur’s Gate’s efforts to innovate and pioneer a new era. If we can assist you in any way, we would be happy to.”

This echo chamber was getting a bit crowded, but Kronnis knew the Emperor was bouncing his response off of her thoughts, saying what she wanted to hear.

“I appreciate that. I trust that our new course will be just what the students need. I’ve assigned a textbook that will go back to the theory, giving them a strong foundational knowledge of defensive strategies.”

Nodding approvingly, Kronnis took the time to briefly delve into her thoughts himself, skimming information from the periphery of her mind.

Flashes of the book she’d just mentioned gave the impression that it was tailor-made to be as dry as possible. She certainly hadn’t exaggerated when she said it would be going over magical theory in depth, it barely covered the casting of spells! She had no intentions of actually teaching the students how to use magic.

He caught a hint of fear and suspicion that lingered like a dark stain behind her surface thoughts, although its presence deep in her subconscious suggested that it wasn’t directed at them, otherwise it would have tainted the half-formed thoughts and impulses that dictated a person’s primary thought process. His best guess was that it was somehow related to Dumbledore, and possibly Harry as well.

Dismissing further investigation as risky, Kronnis turned back to her emotions during their conversation. Satisfaction and self-righteousness filled her at the thought of withholding defensive magic from students. He got the sense that she felt she was keeping an important tool from the headmaster by teaching in this manner.

If he didn’t know any better, a conclusion could be drawn that she was deliberately setting the students up to be easy targets for Voldemort, but it was clear that she didn’t believe a word Harry had said about the wizard’s return.

“I’m keen to have the chance to sit in on your lessons. A strong foundational knowledge of your magic is just what we’re looking to learn,” he commented.

As she tittered and began explaining her schedule and lesson plans, Kronnis saw several staff members filing out of the room, likely to join the headmaster in preparing for the opening feast in the Great Hall. Soon it was just their group and Professor McGonagall, who approached them on her own way out.

“Professor Umbridge,” she nodded stiffly at the shorter witch. “I’m glad to see you at Hogwarts.”

A very frigid exchange followed, with McGonagall offering support as part of her duties as Deputy Headmistress, and Umbridge faking politeness and gratitude in return.

Kronnis thought it clear that she would never go to McGonagall if problems arose. The senior professor was too deep in Dumbledore’s pocket, and probably also a target of whatever the Ministry’s plan was at Hogwarts. Staying neutral among the rising tension between Umbridge and the rest of the staff would be a tight rope to walk.

The witches quickly broke apart once it was evident that neither enjoyed the other’s company, and Kronnis took the opportunity to mentally nudge the Emperor with a hint that it was time for them to depart as well. They offered to accompany Umbridge to the Great Hall, continuing their discussion where they had left off.

Entering the hall almost took Kronnis’ breath away. Magic permeated the air, and the energy in the room eclipsed what they’d experienced when they’d briefly stepped into the room with Snape earlier that day.

Thousands of candles drifted through the air, illuminating long tables filled with glittering plates and glasses. The enchanted ceiling, previously shining with warm daylight, was now a velvety mix of deep blues and alluring purples, speckled with bright points of light as the death of twilight gave birth to stars. His eyes followed unfamiliar constellations down the length of the hall, until his gaze fell to the staff table, where most of the faces he had seen just a short time ago now populated the seats.

The long walk between empty tables to the end of the hall gave them time to compliment the extensive use of magic, flattering Umbridge through her association with this cultural treasure.

Dumbledore waved them over once they made it to the staff table, and requested that they take the seats to the left of his suspiciously throne-like chair, as his guests. Kronnis could feel the discontent radiating from Umbridge at this arrangement, having kept a faint awareness of her surface thoughts. Outwardly, she gracefully accepted the seating arrangement, and took the empty seat to the left of Kronnis, leaving them sandwiched between her and the headmaster. An apt position, he thought to himself with some amusem*nt.

“I must admit, this is a view I could get used to,” he said, making small talk with the headmaster. “I had no idea you had such impressive enchantments in the Great Hall. I see now that having our meals delivered to our rooms may have been a mistake.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I fear it may have been a bit lonely if you did eat in here. I personally believe the Great Hall can only be enjoyed to its fullest when filled with students. I trust you will see the difference once they arrive.”

“Soon then, I hope? Our lunch was quite a long time ago.”

“The first carriages should be making their way up now, although we’ll have to wait for the first years to be sorted before the feast can begin.”

“How will they be sorted? I do not believe we came across this information during our investigation,” the Emperor asked.

“Ah, I shall have to recommend you Hogwarts, A History. We have several copies in the library. I’m sure you’ll find the chronicle interesting – the enchantment on the ceiling of the Great Hall is also explained in detail, if you wish to read further into it.” The headmaster then began a longwinded explanation of the history of the four houses, beginning with the founding of the school, and ending with a dramatic retelling of how he himself had been sorted into Gryffindor as a child.

Several professors sitting nearby listened in and brought up their own houses with a lighthearted competitiveness.

“You’re a bit old to be sorted, but in the spirit of fun, which house do you think would have suited you best?” Dumbledore asked them, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Slytherin,” the Emperor answered promptly, likely having already come to a conclusion upon learning what the school houses actually were.

“Hard to say,” Kronnis mused as he thought of his own response. “I’d probably lean towards Slytherin as well, but Hufflepuff has some traits that fit me.” Depending on how loyalty was interpreted, of course. He had no trouble planning the betrayal of others, but his devotion to the Emperor? Few things defined and drove him as the depth of his attachment.

A victorious and smug bubble of emotion surfaced in Umbridge, prompting Kronnis to scrutinize her thoughts with a curious eye. Now that he looked closer, he could see that a faint sense of kinship was growing in her. He spent a few confused seconds going through their recent interactions, before realizing that she had also claimed Slytherin as her house.

Looking back at nearby professors, he could see faint mixes of disappointment and approval on their faces, and surmised that they must be having similar reactions. How fascinating that these house rivalries appeared to extend past childhood.

Before any conversation could restart, a trickle of black-robed teenagers began entering the hall, and Dumbledore’s attention was drawn away from them.

Umbridge seemed to have been waiting for this opportunity and brought their focus to her side of the table with a question. “Your influence in Baldur’s Gate must have afforded you the prestigious position of representing your people. I was curious, perhaps you could enlighten me on the details of your government and its functions?”

Ah. Fishing for information on how well-connected they were. A shark-like smile formed on Kronnis’ face as he prepared himself to answer her bait.

“The city is governed primarily by four dukes, with one being elected Grand Duke to break stalemates. Ulder Ravengard is currently Grand Duke, and has held the position for almost a decade now. I’m actually rather familiar with his son, Wyll Ravengard.” A fond tone entered his voice. “We spent some time adventuring through the city together in our youth. I’ve met with many of the other dukes and members of Parliament, although the Emperor could describe their work in much more detail.”

Taking the prompt for what it was, his partner began an elaborate explanation of the inner workings of the Council of Four and Parliament of Peers, rattling off names and complicated congressional laws that even Kronnis struggled to follow.

“-Innovations in the breeding of giant spiders have prompted discussion in Parliament on the topic of changing tax rates on the production and sale of spider silk. Most unfortunate, as this affects our investments in various clothing stores.” The irritation in the Emperor’s words at the situation was quite real, although Kronnis remembered that it was the importation of a new weave of spider silk from the markets of Menzoberranzan, and not its production in Baldur’s Gate, that was currently in danger of increased tariffs. “It is likely that in a couple of weeks, once they are finished debating the topic, it will be brought before the dukes for a final ruling.”

“That sounds rather convoluted, I think I prefer our own method of electing a single Minister to represent the people.”

“It can be,” the Emperor replied with some amusem*nt. “I understand the value of having one individual in charge. The process of enacting new legislation often takes a long time in Baldur’s Gate. I remember one year – decades ago – there was a shortage of feed for Rothé. Instead of gathering to quickly resolve the issue and subsidize alternatives, the Parliament argued for months because some members held controlling stock in the cave moss industry – the main feed used for livestock – and did not wish to allow other crops a chance to dominate the market. I distinctly recall the price of meat plummeting during this time, as quality decreased and the market flooded with product once farmers were unable to afford feed for their herds.”

“Have you ever considered making a play for a position on the Council?” she asked, believing herself to flatter him with the suggestion.

The Emperor shook his head after some consideration. “My interests lie more on the commercial side of Baldur’s Gate. I can think of numerous conflicts of interest my appointment would create. Perhaps one day, but I am happy where I am at the moment.”

Ulder Ravengard would never allow it. The Grand Duke had already made teeth-grinding concessions by allowing the execution of two criminals per month by way of the Emperor’s maw. Kronnis held public sway, but not enough to bring Ravengard to his knees in capitulation of their every demand. Each bit of influence the Emperor was allowed in the city was traded for; services exchanged and backing given in political matters. Lifetimes of knowledge made for a good advisor.

Perhaps in half a century – once the duke was rotting in the ground and the Netherbrain crisis nearly forgotten. Perhaps then, the Emperor could make a play. A mind flayer could wear the crown in Baldur’s Gate. Claim the guardianship that stolen memories and a bloody birthright owed him.

Kronnis laughed in his head, picturing the declaration. An illithid, standing tall before crowds, dressed in the best finery the city had to offer, the Ducal Palace and Old Wall his stage and backdrop. Proclaiming himself Balduran, the city’s founder returned to bring his former stomping grounds to heights of greatness never before conceived.

No, the Emperor would never be so blatant. Although the fantasy in his head was clearly being watched with great interest by an outside perspective ripe with illithid desire for control, it was just that – a fantasy. They would continue to influence the city together from the shadows, carefully poking and prodding developments in their favor.

Tuning out the rest of their discussion, Kronnis watched as a professor he vaguely recognized from earlier that day came in through a side door to take a seat at the staff table. The rest of the occupants noticed her arrival and seemed to sit up a bit straighter in preparation for something.

He didn’t have to wait long to see what the anticipation was building towards as the main doors to the Great Hall opened again with a heave of old wood and magic, having fallen closed just minutes ago behind the feet of what he had assumed to be the last of the late arrivals.

Professor McGonagall led a new group of children all the way to the front of the staff table, wonder playing over their young faces as they stared at the awe-inspiring sights of the room. Once the hall quieted, names were called in a no-nonsense tone, and McGonagall placed a ratty old hat atop the head of whichever child had scampered to sit on the stool.

Some looked just about ready to faint from the pressure, while others had wild looks of excitement as they joined their new housemates. Kronnis applauded politely with each new addition, although it appeared others at the staff table were not above favouritism and were much more enthusiastic in welcoming children sorted into specific houses.

Once the last child was sorted and Dumbledore had said a short welcome, a clap of the headmaster’s hands summoned forth a feast of exotic dishes. Tables bowed under the weight of the sheer decadence suddenly filling them. Cries of delight from younger students sounded through the hall, but were rapidly drowned out by loud conversation as hundreds of children were freed from decorum and dug in with enthusiasm.

Kronnis himself picked out a few interesting-looking selections, leaning towards Umbridge to ask if she could explain those unfamiliar to him. Baked pumpkin didn’t look too appetizing, but he ended up helping himself to a second piece of the steak and kidney pie she recommended, the first forkful of meat delightfully savory on his tongue, if a bit overcooked for his tastes.

She took notice of the Emperor’s empty plate and asked if she could suggest anything for him.

“No, thank you,” the Emperor responded to what was quickly becoming a common question, although his answer would be less honest from now on. “Once the initial population of Baldur’s Gate migrated underground, illithids evolved rather quickly and severely to adapt to the new conditions. Our physiology tends to only tolerate specific foods back home, such as the magically-grown fungi that supplement our telekinetic abilities.”

“Ah.” She scrunched her face, unsure of how to respond to that, and returned to her own food.

At the end of the feast, Dumbledore stood, drawing the attention of the hall. Rules were outlined, including an entertaining comment about the Forbidden Forest being off-limits to students, bringing to mind Snape’s earlier words about how often students deigned to follow that particular instruction.

Kronnis then found himself waving at the hall as Dumbledore introduced them and explained their presence to the student body.

Staffing changes followed, and just after the man finished announcing Umbridge as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Kronnis felt her prepare herself for something.

“Hem, hem,” she cleared her throat loudly, interrupting Dumbledore just as he was about to explain the schedule for Quidditch tryouts.

A charged pause enveloped the room as the headmaster cut himself off, turning to stare at Umbridge. She stood, and Kronnis settled himself into his seat in anticipation of a show.

The speech that followed was a masterful construction; an elaborate way of saying that the Ministry was planning to interfere with traditions at Hogwarts and make changes, without much explaining. He recognized some words and phrases as ones she had said earlier in the staff room.

An attempt had clearly been made to cater to them. Comments about nurturing the magical talent of students echoed their own statements to the Minister that their culture valued the education of the next generation.

He nodded along in polite recognition, opening a channel of communication with the Emperor. “I’m not quite sure that her teaching methods will polish the gift of magic she seems so obsessed with preserving.” Umbridge’s words on ‘nurturing’, ‘honing’, and ‘perfecting’ the students’ skills through careful instruction sounded amusingly illithid, as though the pliable minds of children were hers to manipulate like wet clay on a potter’s wheel.

The mind next to his own twitched as this line of thought formed in Kronnis’ head. “Oh?” The Emperor seemed to think it very ironic, distractedly recalling some recent memory that Kronnis was too preoccupied to investigate, a faint chuckle resounding through their shared mindscape. “We will have to wait and see. Perhaps it is true that the students have little to no knowledge of the actual process and theory behind the spells they are casting.”

The staff table reluctantly applauded as she finished her speech, startling the mass of students who had lost focus on her words. The rest of Dumbledore’s announcements passed quickly, and soon the floor of the hall thronged with bodies as the students were dismissed.

They waited until prefects had collected and led the first years away in various directions before they too rose to retire for the night. After such a long day, Kronnis had no intention of mingling with what was sure to be a curious horde of children. The following weeks would likely test their patience enough.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Sitting at the staff table the next morning, Kronnis flipped through the numerous class schedules that professors had provided them throughout breakfast.

“We should disregard Muggle Studies, Astronomy, and Arithmancy,” the Emperor suggested from his right, reaching a hand over to pull the stack of papers to his side of the table.

Kronnis hummed in agreement around the forkful of scrambled eggs occupying his mouth. Setting up a timetable of classes to attend was quickly becoming a headache, one he was all too happy to wash his hands of.

Looking up at the Gryffindor table, he saw that Harry and his friends had finally arrived, although McGonagall had yet to come around to their side of the table to hand them their own schedules.

“The first and third-year courses available today are Charms, Potions, History of Magic, and Divination. Herbology is concurrent with Potions, I have decided that we will attend the alternative session on Thursday.”

“What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?” He turned back to their collection of papers, seeing that the Emperor was now scribbling a rough plan on the back of one of the discarded schedules.

“Back-to-back on Wednesday for first-years. We will attend the later session and look into Ancient Runes during the morning. That one ends about half an hour into the first Defense lesson.”

A closer look at the Emperor’s work showed a distinct lack of activities planned for Tuesday. “We’re returning to Baldur’s Gate tomorrow then?” he asked.

“Yes, any first-year classes taking place tomorrow repeat on other days as well. It seems to be the best opportunity to take a day for ourselves.” The Emperor offered his completed plan for perusal. The next words settled more intimately into Kronnis’ head, indicating that his partner was speaking with him privately. “Harry has his schedule now. I will see when we can arrange a meeting with him.”

Looking up just in time, Kronnis saw Harry jolt in his chair before looking faintly embarrassed. His friends watched in concern when he began to stare blankly into space, brows furrowed.

“You should tell him to be a bit more subtle,” Kronnis laughed in the Emperor’s head, turning his attention back to the paper in his hands.

He only had time to read the first few lines before another distraction interrupted him – the screeching of birds from the rafters above. Owls of all shapes and sizes swooped into the Great Hall, evidently using passages hidden within the architecture to enter the building. They perched before students with a rustling of feathers, letters and packages clasped in their claws.

The sudden landing of an enormous winged beast in front of Kronnis’ own plate was startling enough that a small burst of bright electric energy escaped his fingers. Embarrassed, he quickly dispelled the prepared casting of Shocking Grasp once he realized it was holding out a letter for him.

Menacing yellow eyes glared into his own lilac ones, giving him the sense that the owl was well aware of just how close it had come to getting fried.

Careful hands reached out to accept the letter, mistrustful of the creature’s sharp talons. Elegant script in green ink addressed it to himself and the Emperor, who was now watching with interest, apparently finished with his conversation.

The envelope was opened, and Kronnis’ eyes scanned the bottom of the page, which revealed the sender to be Lucius Malfoy. Suspicion waning, he rotated the letter so his partner could read with him, leaving the owl to peel apart the last sausage on his plate in a demonstrative fashion that had him instinctively crossing his legs.

The body contained a cordial invitation to join Lord Malfoy at his manor next week, postscript advising them to send a reply back with the owl and to select a time of their convenience to attend, as he was sure their schedule was ‘dreadfully busy’, and his own was apparently ‘malleable enough to accommodate’ them.

“A bit eager. When he said he’d send an invitation once we’d settled in, I didn’t expect him to contact us the day the school year started.” Lucius had, on paper, put himself in a weak position, allowing them to dictate the terms of their meeting.

A deliberately transparent ploy, Kronnis thought. The manipulation was expected, and on some level to be respected by the recipient – if they were capable of recognizing it for what it was.

Such an invitation would be difficult to avoid. Claiming to have too full a schedule would be equivalent to snubbing the wizard. Any sharp-minded politician would be pressured to accept with a time of their choosing, lest they make an enemy of a prominent contemporary. Securing the meeting was obviously the desired outcome – Lucius wanted them to take advantage of the position of power he offered, and was willing to risk clearing his entire week just for them.

The games of politics were complicated indeed.

Broken out of his thoughts by the Emperor’s mental equivalent of grabby hands, he handed the letter over to be snatched out of his grip by deft claws. A response was quickly written on the backside in the mind flayer’s best formal script, as satisfaction at a well-executed political ploy saturated the air around them.

The owl glowered one last time from the savaged remains of Kronnis’ breakfast before hopping over to the Emperor’s waiting hands to receive their response. His narrowed eyes followed it, a hint of irrational jealousy sparking within Kronnis at how carefully his partner tied the letter to the cooing owl.

“I assume you’ve filled our schedule for next Tuesday then?” he asked, watching it fly away after being treated to another piece of bacon.

The Emperor nodded. “And this Wednesday. Harry agreed to meet us at an unused classroom on the same floor as our rooms. He had another dream last night, but I sense no change in his mindscape.”

“Weird, what was it about?”

“He was wandering through the Ministry, but from a peculiar perspective – almost level with the floor.”

Strange, Kronnis had been under the impression that Voldemort was rather tall. He brought his voice down to a mocking whisper, regardless of the fact that there was no one within earshot to overhear. “Do you suppose You-Know-Who goes for strolls through the Ministry at night? Maybe we should just set up a stake out.”

“While it could simply be a shared dream, I believe it may be related to the prophecy Voldemort is trying to get his hands on. If you recall, most of the Order members not at Hogwarts are taking shifts to protect it.”

Kronnis hadn’t particularly considered that operation to be relevant. Barring an extreme collapse of the Order’s membership, their names were at the bottom of the list of candidates who both had the time to pull a shift skulking around in the bowels of the Ministry and weren’t suspiciously recognizable. To be honest, if the situation ever became that dire then they were just as likely to simply cut their losses and return to Baldur’s Gate as they were to continue the Order’s quest.

But if Voldemort was just going to march down there himself… no, probably not, the risk of discovery would be too high. Without more information on how Harry’s connection worked, it was possible this dream was just a bizarre manifestation of Voldemort’s desires, rather than proof that he wandered the Ministry in the form of a mouse.

“I don’t think that’s enough information to come to any sort of conclusion. The important thing is that he’s not being controlled by that mind sliver, and if anything changes we’ll be the first to know.”

The Emperor nodded, agreeing with his assessment. “Have you had a chance to review the schedule I completed?”

“I only got through today’s plan.” Kronnis frowned, picking up the discarded paper. It had gained an unfortunate grease splatter in the corner, where bits of scrambled egg had been kicked by spiteful talons. A quick survey of the Great Hall showed it to be remarkably empty, and he handed the schedule back to his partner as he stood. “I’ll look it over later, we should probably find our first class.”

Professor Flitwick made a good first impression. Charming, lively, and affable, he quickly offered to stay behind after lessons to explain any concepts that they had lingering questions about.

The first-years were taught a simple levitation charm, similar to telekinesis but with one major flaw – it couldn’t properly levitate a human, and actually targeted clothes instead of the person. The concept sounded incredibly uncomfortable. Satisfied in his superiority, the Emperor spent some time privately critiquing its other limitations. Flitwick had mentioned that it could be cancelled by a generic counter-spell – to be taught to the students next year – meaning any mediocre wizard should be able to disrupt the levitation with ease. Its long incantation of Wingardium Leviosa also gave enemies ages to prepare for its effects while it was cast.

Smug mood turned into sour offense upon realizing that Kronnis had only lost interest in the charm due to the availability of an illithid willing to levitate whatever he requested, rather than a dismissal of wizards’ inferior abilities. Kronnis refrained from commenting on the absurd flexibility taught to this plane’s spellcasters, far eclipsing the Emperor’s own bag of tricks. An illithid’s ego needed some time to recover, first.

The theory behind spellwork was a good deal more fascinating to Kronnis, and he could see why there had been such emphasis placed on wand movements. They spent half an hour watching the students swish and flick their wands without much success. The only ones able to raise their feathers into the air were those who had been careful to closely mimic the professor’s movements and pronunciation of the spell.

After Charms, they made haste to the dungeons, only frustrated by one wrong turn. The dreary atmosphere of the classroom wasn’t able to curb his excitement – Potions was one of the few classes where he could actually put the teachings into practice.

Snape apparently felt the need to intimidate his students, a droll affair that Kronnis found much more entertaining than Charms class had been – no offense to Flitwick, he was certainly better suited to teaching children, but they weren’t eleven-year-olds struggling with their first spell. Dramatic accounts and warnings of increasingly horrifying ways one could hurt themselves while brewing potions were simply far more captivating than watching inexperienced students flounder about with feathers.

Most of the coming weeks would focus on the theory of potions, ensuring that students had somewhat of a grasp on what not to do before they began handling dangerous ingredients. Different ways to slice, peel, crush, or otherwise prepare ingredients were discussed, along with the importance of always using the correct method.

Snape called them over as the lesson ended, handing over a new schedule once they made their way to the front, passing the curious and wide-eyed faces of departing students along the way. Dates and potions were listed – a record of advanced lessons that introduced new concepts or simple enough brews for them to try their hand at.

Kronnis thanked him, his partner distractedly nodding along as he compared the new lesson plan with the schedules they were already balancing, sheafs of paper floating before his eyes.

Occasionally, watchful lilac eyes had to mentally correct the Emperor’s course on their way to History of Magic, engrossed in planning as he was. Hidden behind the flurry of notes surrounding the tall figure, several small children only narrowly avoided being run over.

The Emperor only compressed his collection of papers into an unobtrusive stack once they’d made it to the classroom, anticipation building for the first-person accounts the teacher – a ghost by the name of Professor Binns – would have to share.

“Well, that was a waste of time.” Kronnis’ hands crumpled the History of Magic schedule into a tight ball. Back in their rooms after the end of the lesson, the Emperor’s barely contained irritation bled through the air. Professor Binns’ teaching had not agreed with him.

“Unbelievable, I should have known that a ghost’s class would be dry as dust – soap blizzard of 1378…” Muttering in contempt, the Emperor sulked his way to the sofa, repeating a phrase Kronnis had already heard said a dozen times during the most boring lecture he’d ever suffered through. “His syllabus is a travesty!” Claws began to gesture, needlessly attempting to convey the frustration already suffocating the room. “These students lack the magical background necessary to understand the new world they are in, and he begins by reciting the biographies of inconsequential wizards?”

“Cutting his class should free up time for those advanced potions lessons,” Kronnis suggested, hoping to redirect the tirade by thrusting their remaining schedules back into his partner’s hands. “I’m sure Madam Pince can recommend better reading anyway. We can skip to topics that are actually relevant for us.”

Sharp nails threatened to tear holes into the already well-worn papers. “Yes,” the Emperor’s voice was dangerous, his eyes narrowing to scan the information in front of him as though to ferret out previously hidden opportunities. “Potions and Herbology. We will have to bring up additional lessons with Professor Sprout. Once we identify novel commodities, we could have a monopoly on exclusive potions and herbs,” he trailed off, muttering to himself about the logistics of an extraplanar business venture.

“I’ll meet you at the North Tower in an hour then? I’m going to stop by the Great Hall for lunch.” A dismissive wave was all the indication Kronnis received that his words had been heard. Triumphant in giving the Emperor something to plot over, he stepped back out into the empty halls.

Lunch at Hogwarts was equally as abundant as dinner and breakfast, buffet style with foods both familiar and new. Students sporadically walked through the large doors, rushing to and from classes that overlapped with the generous time frame during which the meal was served.

He’d given himself plenty of buffer, and yet Kronnis almost ended up late to Divination – to no fault of his own.

The student body had mostly left them in peace earlier that day, but it seemed that without the intimidatingly tall figure of the Emperor at his side, Kronnis was suddenly considered approachable. Hungry eyes weighed him down during his meal, and their owners – apparently waiting for him to leave the relative safety of the staff table – trailed after him when he stepped out of the Great Hall.

A small child caught his attention first, high-pitched voice nervous but as brave as the lion roaring on her black robes. “Um, Lord Tekret, why are your ears so pointy?”

Kronnis almost physically recoiled, and decided to nip this at the bud before the mispronunciation of his last name haunted him throughout the rest of his time at Hogwarts. “Just call me Kronnis, I’m not one for formal titles.” Bringing a finger up to his right ear he bent its tip, as if to prove it real. “Drow have distant fey ancestry, which probably resulted in the pointy ears. Humans in Baldur’s Gate have ones just like yours.”

Insistent Ravenclaws pushed forward a spokesperson next. “You can do wandless magic, right? Could you teach us some?”

“Perhaps in the future. We’re still figuring out how the magic we use in Underdark developed differently from yours.” Coming to an impulsive decision after seeing their disappointed expressions, Kronnis made a show of scanning the area for responsible adults before determining that the coast was clear for some light rule breaking. “I can give you a demonstration – just don’t tell anyone I was doing magic in the halls.” Expectant faces lit up as he flourished a hand, summoning a swarm of luminescent butterflies above their heads. Appreciative “ohhh’s” and “aaah’s” bolstered his ego.

A Slytherin girl, almost as tall as he was, used the distraction to ask her own question. “Have you ever played Quidditch before?”

“We don’t have Quidditch, but I’m looking forward to watching the first match of the year. Early November, right?”

She confirmed the date, and then a trio of giggling Hufflepuff girls snuck their way through the crowd to stand next to him. “Is there a Mrs. Tekanret?” The question caught him off guard, as did the continued butchery of drow names. Honestly, did no one listen when Dumbledore introduced them?

He brushed them off with a curt no, quickly regretting his decision to even address the topic when one of them batted her eyelashes and started curling her hair around a finger.

The voice of another Gryffindor, an older teenager this time, rose above the subtle murmur. “So, is the Emperor like, the emperor of Baldur’s Gate?” he asked, eyes sparkling with boyish wonder.

Kronnis laughed. “No. Although he is one for formal titles, he’s not in charge of the city. That would be Grand Duke Ravengard.”

The boy’s friend piped up next, emboldened by the casual answer, and dared another question about someone unable to defend themselves. “What’s the deal with his… you know.” He gestured to his own face as though he had a beard, obviously referring to the Emperor’s opaque veil.

The response was a deadpan joke. “Skin condition.” Kronnis watched his audience’s faces with amusem*nt before clarifying. “It’s mostly for protection against the sun – you have no idea how harsh natural light is on skin that’s adapted to near total darkness.”

Several more questions about Baldur’s Gate followed, but eventually students began peeling off from the cluster that had followed him, hustling to make it to their own classes. High above, Kronnis could feel the mind of the Emperor waiting for him – a convenient beacon guiding him to the trapdoor entrance of the Divination classroom.

Red drapes, curtains, and carpets breathed life into the tower’s stone construction. Shelves were pushed against the walls, occupied by glass balls and mirrors, bundles of incense and packages of cards. Today’s lesson, however, was likely related to the twin cups of tea steaming on every table in the room.

He found his partner sitting in a corner, having claimed an out of the way table at the top of the auditorium-style seating the room was arranged in. Stacks of padded pillows replaced traditional chairs, and Kronnis noticed that the Emperor was lounging on a collection of four, whereas only two remained for himself.

“Almost late.” The comment brushed softly across his mind, a brow ridge raising in question. Masterful illithid prodding plied recent experiences from his mind as soon as the words were said.

“Got ambushed.” Kronnis’ whispered response was unnecessary, seeing as amusem*nt was already leaking across their connection as the Emperor scrutinized his memories.

“Do you need my protection to move about unmolested?”

Kronnis snorted in offense. “I did just fine. I’ve had worse in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I recall, and what is this about-” The Emperor cut himself off upon closer inspection of Kronnis’ memories. The following question was critical. “Are you trying to gain the approval of children?”

“No,” he denied, “they just looked like they could do with a demonstration of otherworldly magic.”

“You are now on a first name basis with them.” The accusation was audacious, considering that Kronnis hadn’t caught any of the students’ names.

“You heard that kid say my last name,” Kronnis said, pushing that specific memory through their link again to enforce his point. “I can’t live here if I’m going to have to correct children all the time.”

Humming, clearly unconvinced, the Emperor moved on to other memories. “Why, Mr. Teken’rret,” he began, voice carefully pronouncing the syllables of his name in a suggestive tone. “I had no idea you were single.”

“That's not what I said!”

Their conversation was interrupted by a breathy voice projected from the front of the classroom. “Welcome, my children. In this room we shall explore the noble art of Divination.” A frazzled looking woman that Kronnis recognized as Professor Trelawny addressed the class, quieting down the conversational din of gathered third-years.

After going on about developing the students’ ‘sight’ and casting them into the future, she instructed them on the proper method of reading tea leaves, a practice supposedly called Tasseography.

Kronnis followed along curiously, drinking the bitter liquid until only half a spoonful was left in the cup and then turning it upside down to drain the remaining moisture into the saucer.

The Emperor was already flipping through the textbook that had been provided for them, locating several pages that depicted a series of well-catalogued ink stains. Kronnis handed over his cup, letting his partner analyze it.

“This one is certainly a cross,” a claw pointed to a conjoined pair of lines in the tea debris, “And there is some sort of four-legged animal here.” The digit shifted to point at what Kronnis would personally define as a rickety house with two chimneys.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trelawney wandering the room, absently looking at cups and divulging the secrets contained within to confused-looking students.

“And what does that mean?” He turned his attention back to the book the Emperor was poring over, eyes searching for the shapes he had identified.

“If it is a pig, it could mean a mix of good and bad luck…” he trailed off, thumbing to the next page and spending some time looking for other options. “Or perhaps it is a dog?”

Approaching footsteps warned that Trelawney had made her way over to them, raising the Emperor’s attention from the textbook. “Let me see, dear.” She smiled as she plucked the cup from the table, peering inside through thick glasses.

“Oh my, oh my…” Her eyebrows rose. “A mix of fortune for you. This apple and horse at the bottom indicate a long life and commercial desires fulfilled by a prosperous journey. And then here, flowers –showing success and a happy marriage. But, next to the flowers, this unicorn represents a scandal.”

Her airy voice carried through the room, students quieting down to hear her most dramatic reading yet. Kronnis could hear a familiar giggling, recognizing the trio of Hufflepuff girls that had pestered him earlier.

Large eyes, magnified behind the distortion of glass, briefly gazed into his own before dropping back to the cup with apprehension. “These symbols, clustered close by the handle, show what awaits you in the near future. A comet, for misfortune and trouble. A flag, danger from wounds inflicted by an enemy.” Her voice lowered, until it became a dramatically slow hiss of a whisper that somehow still managed to carry through the entire room. “And the cross – trouble, delay, and death.”

The faint giggling and murmurs stopped.

In the silence, Kronnis hesitantly leaned forward to look into the cup again. Half of the shapes she’d mentioned didn’t seem to exist. “How often are these predictions accurate?”

“My dear, my predictions are always accurate.” She sounded very sure of herself.

“I’ll give you the cross, but where’s the flag?” Rotating the cup in his hands revealed no answers. “Any one of these lines could be interpreted as a comet, if you squint hard enough. And I think that unicorn is just as close to the handle as that other bunch, wouldn’t that mean the scandal is also something to expect in the near future?”

Trelawney’s eyes narrowed, and she looked down her nose at where he was seated. “It seems you do not possess the sight. I have nothing to teach you. If you wish to ignore my warnings, then so be it.” Their conversation was dramatically cut short as she whirled around and marched away from their table.

Kronnis sheepishly set down the cup as an unimpressed look settled on him. “Very diplomatic of you.”

“You can’t honestly believe that this is accurate,” he whispered hotly, jabbing at the cup.

“It likely is not. Such broad interpretations leave too much room for self-fulfilling prophecies.” The book was closed and placed on the table. “The remaining practices are just as vague. I doubt anything of use will be taught here.”

The dismissal settled Kronnis. One less class to attend meant they would have more time to pursue other matters. Frankly, Trelawney unnerved him, and he was glad to avoid subsequent prophecies. He was sure today’s prediction would be circulating around the entirety of Hogwarts by the end of the day.

Sighing, he squinted into the cup again for lack of anything better to do while the class continued. The now-clear image of an apple caught his eye. “Do you think ‘long life, and commercial desires fulfilled by a prosperous journey’ is just a coincidence? How old are you again?” A goading smirk grew on his face.

“Oh, stop it.” Mentally swatting him for lack of an available tentacle to do so physically, the Emperor looked at him in that insufferable way he always did when he didn’t want to admit to being amused. “You are likely older than Dumbledore yourself.”

“I’m just saying, maybe I need to take a second look. This can’t all be nonsense if it’s actually being taught here.”

Kronnis propped open the abandoned textbook. Disregarding the actual lesson being taught in the front of the room, their corner filled with subtle conversation. He spent his time pointing out interesting passages and snippets to the Emperor, And then thought himself quite clever when he discovered a chapter on Palmistry, successfully suggesting a practice bout.

Magic whirled through their rooms, compressing around a steel fork clutched in a tangle of their fingers. They were gone in a blink, reappearing in the familiar Knights of the Shield Headquarters – renovated to better suit habitation. The steel fork the Emperor had used to channel Plane Shift was immediately tucked away for safekeeping. They didn’t have a spare, and attuning a new one would leave them stranded for some time.

Though it was early morning, an old friend was present in their home, wide-eyed at their arrival.

“Thank the Gods!” Wyll’s exclamation rang through the room as he jolted out of his seat, strewing papers about.

Kronnis thought that overall, the new mess barely made the current situation any worse than it already was. He eyed the chaotic mess of documents filling the large table in the middle of the room – one of the only pieces of furniture or original stonework that had survived replacement and repair. The Emperor had been attached.

“When you said to manage your investments, I didn’t realize you had your fingers in half the businesses in Baldur’s Gate!” Rather flattering of Wyll to exaggerate so. They had, at most, investments in about eighteen percent of commerce in the city. And other measures of influence in an additional twenty percent – according to the Emperor’s latest financial report. And by ‘they’, he meant the Emperor.

“Yes? Has a problem come up?” The illithid’s words were filled with hesitance and dread.

“How do you manage this? The Chromatic Scale is asking for additional funding of one thousand gold to expand to their storefront, Facemaker’s Boutique doesn’t want to import the latest fashion from Amn – something about inferior thread count – and don’t even get me started on what the Elfsong asked you to do about that new bar down the road.”

It was suddenly clear that Wyll had been up all night trying to make sense of various developments. Dark bags under his eyes implied that this was not the first time, either.

The Emperor nodded in understanding, levitating over to the table. “Do not concern yourself with petty matters. Simply sign off on anything that appears normal and leave me a report on the holdings. I trust our collaborators can manage their enterprises without my assistance for a time.”

Assistance in this context meaning heavy-handed suggestions. Mostly attended by Kronnis, but sometimes by the Emperor himself, if a proprietor was being particularly stubborn about market decisions.

Kronnis remembered one promising bookstore owner who had refused to expand his stock to include anything printed by the wizards of Waterdeep. A personal visit from the Emperor himself hadn't changed his mind, and the bookstore quickly ceased to exist, liquidating overnight. Not that it would have lasted much longer anyway, with competitors offering a greater variety of literature to clientele. The ex-proprietor was still wandering the back alleys of Heapside, mind addled from the harsh memory wipe he’d been subjected to.

Hopefully Figaro could be convinced with a short missive. Facemaker’s Boutique was too important to their portfolio to kneecap as a demonstration, and Kronnis quite enjoyed the easy conversation he shared with the dwarf whenever he visited to be fitted for new fashions.

“If you are concerned about any petitions, inform them that they will be advised on their requests within seven to ten business days. I will look into the Elfsong matter myself.”

Papers flew through the air with a rustle, purple eyes quickly sorting them into cleaner stacks. “More importantly, have any decisions been made on the revised import tariff on Bonecap?”

“No, not yet.” Wyll picked out some official-looking notices, summarizing them. “The Parliament is reconvening two days from now to discuss it again. It was stricken from last session’s agenda due to the emergency addition of a judicial hearing for some Upper City businessman.” He turned to look back at the Emperor. “My father called you in for that – I told him he’d have to wait until you returned. The suspect has witnesses claiming that he was playing cards with them the evening of the murder, but everyone who works for him says he had it out for his ex-wife, the woman that was murdered. As far as the Watch can tell she didn’t have any other enemies, and it’s clear that the killer wasn’t in her home to rob her.”

Anticipation rose in the Emperor, fueled by the simmering hunger Kronnis had been able to sense for the past couple of days. If Duke Ravengard requested the services of a mind flayer, it was likely that the case was both serious enough to warrant a potential execution, and that the investigation had hit a dead end that couldn’t be solved without a dubiously-performed interrogation. “I will make my way to Wyrm’s Rock to settle the matter,” the Emperor assured Wyll, his mind planning an unannounced visit that was unlikely to be well-received by the duke.

Kronnis cleared his throat, pulling them away from the next stack of no doubt incredibly important legislative updates. “I can handle the visit with Lady Whitburn while I’m out shopping. How about you take some extra time to properly go over our mercantile operations before seeing Duke Ravengard? I know we left in a bit of a rush.” He flashed an apologetic smile at his clearly overwhelmed friend, well acquainted with how complicated his partner’s work was.

“Lady Whitburn? Isn’t she one of the swing votes?” A dark eyebrow rose as suspicion and faint disapproval entered Wyll’s tone. “I doubt father will be happy to hear about meddling in Parliament.”

“Please,” Kronnis scoffed, “have you seen half the members? Martina Vanthampur is infamous for selling her votes to the highest bidder.”

“Reminding politicians of their alliances is hardly the same as threatening or enthralling them.” The Emperor looked up from the papers he had continued sorting. “I am sure Duke Ravengard is well aware of collusion between members of Parliament and outside forces. He has yet to speak out against our actions.”

Years of silence had truly spoken volumes. So long as they refrained from endangering or unbalancing the city, the duke turned a blind eye. There was much more serious corruption to be investigated, anyhow. No matter how many cabals against the city’s seat of power were foiled or privately dragged into the Grand Duke’s office for a harshly-worded warning, there would always be another problem that demanded more attention than the shady dealings of tentative allies.

With a grimace, Wyll dropped the subject. “I wouldn’t mind some pointers on the current administrative environment. A lot has changed since… my youth.”

The Emperor focused intently on Wyll. “Has your father not taken the time to educate you?”

Oh boy. Kronnis quickly made his excuses and fled the room, being intimately familiar with the lecture his friend was about to receive. The Emperor rarely had a captive audience to impress with his encyclopedic knowledge of Baldur’s Gate’s political sphere.

Sneaking his way out of the Elfsong Tavern’s kitchens, he could only hope that his partner’s hunger would eventually drive him to complete his half of the errands.

Bonecloak’s Apothecary was Kronnis’ first stop. Catching up with Derryth, the dwarf filled him in on the latest gossip. Rumors were flying about that murder in the Upper City. Wyll had undersold the situation a bit – accusations of a Bhaalist resurgence haunted the streets, although the Flaming Fist were cracking down on anyone they caught spreading that particular story.

Personally, he thought the past five years may have just been a little too peaceful. The population was thirsty for excitement, and a conveniently mysterious murder was ripe for speculation.

Floating the idea of expanding Derryth’s inventory with unique stock, he asked her to look into market trends, promising to return with samples in the future. He then emptied out a good quarter of her current alchemical ingredients, leaving them both with smiles on their faces by the time he departed.

In the Upper City, Lady Whitburn – a chronically divorced elf of some renown – received him in her parlor.

“I hear rumor that the savior of Baldur’s Gate disappeared a tenday ago. Pray tell, I simply must know what caught your attention.” Fluttering her lashes, she leaned closer across the coffee table separating them.

An easy smile graced his face, co*cked just so to charm any recipient. “I admit, it’s rather secret at the moment. Negotiations may take a while yet, so I shan’t spoil too much.” Knowing she would take this straight to her peers, he seized the opportunity to generate interest and anticipation at the prospect of new and exotic imports. “Your daughter, she recently opened a business providing specialized antidotes, correct?” At her intrigued nod, curious about the change of topic, he continued. “A respectable pursuit. I believe she could have much to gain in the future. I may pay her establishment a visit to further discuss my travels.”

Understanding flashed through her thoughts. She took a second to think, making a show of uncrossing and recrossing elegant legs. “A generous offer. I would be honored to show our appreciation, on behalf of House Whitburn.” The purr in her voice left little doubt as to her intentions, and Kronnis’ subtle grasp on the periphery of her mind showed him several ways she was hoping to do so. One of which involved the very table between them.

“No need, this is simply a friendly house call after all.” He quickly pivoted to the true reason for his visit. “I was wondering, however, about the state of the import tariff revision the Parliament is currently discussing. Bonecap, was it? A common ingredient in poisons.”

Lady Whitburn narrowed her eyes, the mild disappointment that followed his dismissal shifting once more to intrigue. “I see you’re well-informed on Parliament matters. Lord Cackairn has been making a push to increase various import tariffs.” Her voice took on a conspiratory tone. “Most of the goods he’s targeting seem random, but I heard that he recently had a falling out with the heiress of a prominent mercantile family in Amn. They made their fortune with alchemical exports, and their ownership of the fertile land where the Battle of Three Faiths took place makes them the Sword Coast’s primary exporter of Bonecap.”

How amusing. The city was being dragged into a petty disagreement between squabbling nobles. If Baldur’s Gate had any significant local sources for Bonecap he’d have been tempted to let this play out for his own entertainment. “That could be inconvenient for your daughter. The value of antidotes depends on the availability of poisons, does it not?”

“I see. I suppose you make a good point.” Shrewd eyes sized him up. “I may have to bring up Lord Cackairn’s indiscretions with the rest of Parliament. We can hardly let such a personal matter dictate legislation in Baldur’s Gate.”

Kronnis nodded, satisfied. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on the matter.”

They made further small talk for a spell, catching up on other drama plaguing the nobility, before he excused himself to locate the address she’d given him. Lady Whitburn's daughter, a half-elf by the name of Layla, opened the door. By the look on her face, she was clearly surprised by his presence.

Kronnis extended an offer similar to the one he’d mentioned to Derryth. This time, with the additional proposal of an investment in her start-up. Layla spent some time looking around the inside of her cramped store before hesitantly agreeing to further negotiations, should he return with compelling enough samples.

He concluded his business in the Upper City by picking up some rings of Comprehend Languages in the markets of The Wide – a suitable gift for any diplomatic occasion that might require one – and opted to take the scenic route back to the Elfsong Tavern.

Bloomridge Park’s most recent expansion stood proud as he walked by. Completed just before the first anniversary of the Netherbrain’s defeat, it encompassed an area to the north that had been destroyed by a fallen nautiloid. A dramatic statue of himself and his companions dominated the space, just within view of the older depiction of Balduran that resided by the southern entrance. He’d actually donated about half the funds that paid for its commission, the city’s coffers strained by other emergencies.

Kronnis remembered the day the new section had been opened to the public. With a larger-than-life version of himself at his back he’d given a speech about unity and the resilience of the city, drawing the admiration of every Baldurian present. Eager faces had lapped up the words flowing from his silver tongue. Basking in the reverence and respect of the crowds as he addressed them, he’d felt truly alive. The young male drow from Menzoberranzan that still resided somewhere in his mind had finally been content.

Following the more public event in the park, an extravagant afterparty had been held at the Ducal Palace – politicians guzzling wine and other spirits hand over fist in a lavishly decorated hall. Kronnis, philanthropically winning the hearts of citizens and aristocracy alike during the city’s repairs, and being the only member of his party that had remained local and in the public eye, had been in high demand. Half the attendees had demanded a dance, drunken nobles trying their best to talk his ear off with whatever propositions they had for him. Badly thought-out business negotiations, offers to hire him on retainer as a mercenary, political marriage proposals, endless compliments on his flawless footwork – he’d heard it all.

Karlach, Halsin, and Lae’zel hadn’t been able to make it, disappointing as that was. He would’ve loved to see them navigate the festivities. Wyll had taken the time to make a short trip out of Avernus, updating Kronnis on Karlach’s progress in finding a forge to fix her heart. He’d made for an excellent dance partner, a welcome distraction whenever the more unsavory attendees looked to be trying their luck again.

A brief appearance had been made by Astarion, the vampire spawn only arriving after dusk. Gale made the journey from Waterdeep to chatter endlessly about his new position as professor of illusion at Blackstaff Academy, and Shadowheart paused her travels to return to the city, regaling them with stories of adventure that turned Kronnis’ insides green with envy.

Another speech had concluded the night, Ulder Ravengard standing tall and only slightly tipsy upon a raised platform. Words of thanks spread through the room, including the Fists, the Harpers – even the Guild. Dark eyes had met Kronnis’ own as the Grand Duke uttered words of appreciation for those who could not make it to the event. The crowd took this to refer to Karlach, Lae’zel and Halsin, among others, but Kronnis knew that Ravengard was including the Emperor as well.

When he’d made it back to their home late that evening, sharing his memories with his partner, the mind flayer had been touched by the subtle acknowledgement of the role he’d played in saving his beloved city.

Breaking out of his musings and opening the door to his home in real time, Kronnis saw that the large meeting room was currently empty of his partner. Wyll’s tired face was the only one greeting him.

“You really should take a nap,” Kronnis observed, blunt as a friend commenting on the lettuce stuck between one’s teeth. “I’m glad you’re still here though, I was hoping you could get this to Gale for us.” Pulling out a sealed letter, he slid it across the table, where it bumped into the now much more organized stacks of papers sitting before his friend.

“What’s this?” Fingers turned the envelope around.

“Difficult to explain, really. We were hoping he could do some research for us and give an opinion on something.” He walked to the back, opening the entrance to the hidden bedchambers. “Give me one second.”

The Emperor may have been fine living among crumbling stone and rotting beams of wood, but Kronnis was more refined. Repairs to the Elfsong above had been prioritized, but once completed, an overhaul of the secret basem*nt had occupied much of his time.

Stone brick was torn out and replaced by shining marble. The hole in the ceiling above the east wall was patched, as was the one by the north wall, where rusty cages littered with bone shards had once rested. Wooden framework was carefully taken out to be substituted with stained elm from the Cloak Wood, matching the new shelves and cupboards that divided the once open room into smaller sections.

The entrance had a warm carpet leading to a cozy sitting area and small kitchenette – the bar at the end having hosted several friendly gatherings whenever old companions stopped by for a visit. The right side opened to a more private study and library, and the left contained sleeping accommodations, where an actual bed had been added.

Walking though the double doors that led to their storage room – the trapdoor to the city’s depths heavily barred and enchanted – Kronnis crouched to examine the wine rack in the corner. An old vintage of Deepwine was pulled from the shelf and impatient fingers ran over the rest of the selection, eventually settling on an expensive flavor of Midnight Star. On his way out, he grabbed a handful of healing potions. One could never have enough.

He carefully packed the bottles with the rest of his purchases, and then set the Midnight Star on the table in front of his friend. “Take a day off, have a chat with your father.”

Wyll’s ink-stained hands inspected the gift. “This must be worth fifty gold.”

“You’re doing us a huge favor. I know the Emperor is paying you to deal with all this in our absence,” Kronnis gestured to the papers, pulling up a chair next to Wyll, “but it’s a tough job to figure out. I’ve all but given up on making heads or tails of some of the dividends and compounding interests myself.”

“He explained how the accounting ledgers are supposed to be filled out, so I think I’ll manage a bit better now. Although, I’m starting to suspect that the new general store down by the docks is trying to short their payments.” Wyll shook his head, disgustedly pushing away the papers he had started flipping through again. “My father’s been… busy. He was excited when Karlach and I came back from Avernus – wanted to show me the administrative workings of the city so I could work with him. It’s been a couple of months but I still feel lost. Everything’s changed from what I knew as a boy.”

Kronnis nodded. “It’s been over a decade for you, and with the Netherbrain Crisis escalating things, the political landscape changed very quickly.”

“It’s like I don’t know anyone anymore. Sure, my reputation garners respect, but the dukes, the lords and ladies I was familiar with, most are gone now. I have to figure out where I stand with these new faces, preferably somewhere not in my father’s shadow.” A sad smile ghosted over familiar lips.

Kronnis could have kissed those lips, once. A shared dance in the shadows could have been something more. He knew that he would’ve been slowly breaking his friend’s heart if he did, aware that the spark they had wasn’t anything more than brief infatuation. And so, he had been selfless – tender, even – words tearing a shallow wound in that heart to save it from a worse fate. Kronnis wasn’t meant for the kindness of man.

And besides, he’d seen the not-so-subtle glances a certain tiefling shot Wyll’s way whenever she thought no one was looking.

“I think he actually approves of this though,” Wyll continued, gesturing to the papers and oblivious to Kronnis’ brief moment of introspection. “I had no idea what sorts of deals are made on the commercial side of things. It’s helping me realize how important the flow of money is, and how it influences everything in the city.”

“With enough connections you can throw quite a lot of weight around,” Kronnis agreed, smirk playing over his face. “What does Karlach think of your new job?”

Wyll laughed. “She thinks it sounds boring; said she’d rather eat dirt than do it herself.”

“I thought she wanted a bit of a quiet vacation, now that she’s fixed her heart and gotten her fill of revenge. Can’t think of anything quieter than working in here,” he joked, knowing full well that Karlach would likely tear her hair out trying to make sense of the Emperor’s commercial operations. Wyll looked like he was already on the brink himself.

“Sure, if you want half of these documents to go up in flames. Her idea of a quiet vacation is a bit closer to jumping into the Chionthar for fun, or trying to start an eating contest at the Returning Day feast last month.”

“Oh, I remember that!”

Wyll’s grin matched his own. “Father wasn’t too happy about that one, but it was worth it to see the look on lady Nelwin’s face.”

Laughing, they shared memories of the event for several minutes.

Once their chuckles abated, it was clear that something else weighed on Wyll’s mind. “I’m happy staying in Baldur’s Gate, but I think she’s getting restless again. I’ve suggested joining the Flaming Fist or City Watch, but she said it would feel too similar to what she did for Gortash.”

Kronnis hummed in agreement. “I can imagine she wants to leave the soldier life behind, too many bad memories. How about opening a business? Trust me when I say it’ll keep her occupied. You’d just have to help her figure out what she’s interested in.”

“A business?” Wyll mused. “Well, I can certainly suggest it. I don’t think we’ve floated that idea yet.”

“If she needs advice or start-up funds you know we’d be more than happy to cut a favorable deal. And,” he snatched the topmost papers off of a stack, shuffling them to present an accounting ledger heavy with annotations in a script that he knew wasn’t his partner’s, “with all the work you’re doing here you’ll be able to support her with set up and management yourself.”

They were interrupted by the return of the Emperor, freshly glistening skin indicating that he’d been successful in sourcing a meal.

“Guilty?” Kronnis asked, quickly re-sorting the papers in his hands before neatly placing them back on the stack they’d come from.

“Indeed.” Satisfaction bled through their connection. “His alibi was faked. His card-playing friends are accomplices and are now being investigated. I am unsure if the Watch will be able to find enough evidence to sentence all of them, but some pointed questions should poke enough holes in their story to take them in for questioning. I had to wait until they could confirm the location of the murder weapon in his house. Sensible enough, but frustrating.”

“Perfect, looks like we’ve settled everything then.” Kronnis stood and gathered his day’s acquisitions. “Sorry to cut this short Wyll, we’ll talk again soon.”

His friend brushed him off. “I think it’s about time I take that nap anyway.”

Joining the Emperor, Kronnis couldn’t resist leaving without one last remark. “Don’t wait too long to pop the question!”

Wyll’s sputtering face was the last thing he saw before they disappeared, leaving his friend with stacks of accounting ledgers, a letter to an old friend, and a bottle of wine to connect with his father over.

“What did you do with the new bar the Elfsong had concerns about?”

“They seem to have suddenly found themselves without a bartender, given that the only one currently employed has abruptly decided to elope with her beloved in Neverwinter.”

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The Emperor’s mental form of communication was well received by Madam Pince. Following her as she wandered the maze of bookshelves that made up the Hogwarts library, Kronnis thought it was safer to let his partner do all the talking. He’d seen how the librarian’s temper flared and her tongue scorched any students she found whispering in her domain.

Texts were plucked off shelves, stacked in a hovering pile that quickly grew to half of Kronnis’ size, and were then signed out at the front desk. They left with a nearly complete collection of textbooks covering first-year classes and third-year electives, and a jest that they’d be back before she knew it.

Their acquisitions were levitated along with them to Ancient Runes, another boring class that appeared unprofitable, where students learned dead alphabets and forgotten languages. What was the point? Where was the demand? Was there a booming translation industry in the wizarding world? Was this some precursor to a later college of archaeology they hadn’t been told about?

He couldn’t figure it out, and spent the rest of the class sharing this inane line of questioning with the Emperor. As much as the illithid wanted to learn everything that might give them an edge, even he struggled with how to make use of this subject. The textbooks’ contents didn’t reveal any interesting topics to anticipate, and so the class was struck from their schedule, to be attended only in cases of extreme boredom.

With an hour to kill before Umbridge’s class started, they returned to their rooms, where a collection of letters awaited their attention. It had doubled in size from yesterday, when they’d been too busy in Baldur’s Gate to address any. Splitting the pile with the Emperor, Kronnis rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

He read countless introductions. Pompous invitations. Demands and questions. One marriage proposal was shoved his way with amusem*nt, and a slightly deranged missive was puzzled over, sent by a wizard who seemed to think that they were aliens intending to whisk him away to the stars.

Most of these were torn up – they simply couldn’t reply to every request for their attention. Letters from businesses were put aside to receive a generic response of ‘thank you, we will look into this once we have a better grasp on your culture and economy’. The Emperor would go over those with a fine-toothed comb at a later date, evaluating favorable opportunities and partnerships.

Several individuals had offered to meet with them, often with various suggestions or detailed lists of how mutual assistance could be beneficial. The most promising of these were placed into a separate stack and would be responded to later that evening. Kronnis was scanning one such letter from a previous professor at Hogwarts, some wizard named Horace Slughorn, when a paper highlighted with the faint purple glow of telekinesis floated into his vision.

“What’s this?” he asked, grabbing it for closer examination.

“An interview request. The journalist proposed we meet at Hogwarts next month. She intends to further question us on Baldur’s Gate and provide us the opportunity to address misinformation and speculation.”

Kronnis’ quick scan turned up additional information not mentioned in the Emperor’s summary – the signature identified the sender as Rita Skeeter, a writer for the Daily Prophet. “I hope she comes prepared with a list of rumors for us to address. I’d love to hear what’s being said outside of Hogwarts.” Harry should be able to update them with the current gossip circulating the student body, but his curiosity regarding what the rest of the country thought of them wouldn’t be so easily sated.

Gently pulling itself free from his hands, the page floated back to the desk that the Emperor had commandeered for his work. The scratching of a quill on paper indicated that time was being blocked off for the interview – a response written and a note added to their calendar.

The stack of remaining letters was dramatically smaller by the time they had to leave, but Kronnis was sure it would balloon back to its previous size by this time tomorrow.

Umbridge’s classroom was impossibly neat. Desks lined up perfectly, spaced just the right distance apart. Each of the two copies of Defensive Magical Theory were pristinely centered before the pairs of chairs tucked under the dark-stained wood. In the back, a separate table had been set up, with complimentary quills and parchment.

A friendly wave, calculated to be a warm enough gesture to satisfy cordial expectations, but not too overbearing as to disrupt professionalism, was sent to Umbridge at the front of the class.

The lesson started simple enough. She explained the purpose of the class and then the syllabus. Chapter one of the text was titled ‘Basics for Beginners’ – promising indeed for Kronnis, who had yet to learn about the patterns of wizarding combat. Non-offensive responses and conflict mediation would be covered later on, along with a multitude of other tactics to creatively beg for your life without retaliating.

Promptly after this explanation was finished, Umbridge commanded the class to turn back to the first chapter and spend the rest of the class reading it. Kronnis stared for a second, blinking. A sharp tug on her thoughts, almost careless, revealed that she was serious.

“Ah, I see.” It appeared the Emperor had done the same, realizing that this would be the extent of her ‘teaching’.

Kronnis fought the frown climbing onto his face, flipping pages to more closely examine the rest of the text. He’d seen Umbridge’s thoughts on the book, but had expected perhaps just a bit more actual instruction. No matter, he was literate and perfectly capable of educating himself. His response to his partner was private. “The chapter on ‘Hexing and Haggling’ seems to actually go over some helpful definitions. Looks like there’s a couple others that might have theory on different types of spells.”

The Emperor hummed, taking a minute to turn to a different chapter on the benefits of negotiation over retaliation. “Based on the miniscule understanding the author has on appropriate negotiation techniques, I would be hard-pressed to expect much from the rest of this.”

“We’re going to have to think of a way to compliment her about this. Maybe something about how diplomatic it is?”

“Perhaps,” his partner mused, turning back to the first chapter. “Regardless, we will follow along for now.”

They turned their attention to actually reading the chapter in full, although it was quickly skimmed once they realized it was more or less a disappointing essay touting the benefits of non-violent conflict resolution. Skipping ahead to the next one proved fruitful. ‘Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation’ spoke about different kinds of spells, and how to identify them in order to pick the best defensive strategy. The strategies themselves were useless, amounting to various verbal de-escalation techniques, but at least they had finally located some relevant information.

Curses, hexes, and jinxes. Apparently, all different types of dark charms with distinguishing characteristics. They’d already read about several dark spells in Grimmauld Place, but the nuance between a curse and a jinx hadn’t been explained, assumed common knowledge by the authors.

According to this text, jinxes tended to be minor inconveniences, and were cast with subtler wand movements. Hexes were more likely to cause major issues, some examples being the knee-reversal hex and eyelid-swelling hex. Kronnis thought these interesting, although nowhere near as effective as a quick Fireball.

The strongest of the three were curses, wicked in intent and dangerous in effect. It took them long confused minutes to realize that the book did not actually appear to go into detail on them. A quick check of the index and table of contents confirmed their suspicions. There was a whole chapter dedicated to a discussion on counter-jinxes – disappointingly sparse on actual spell details – but it nonetheless at least provided definitions and explanations. Curses, on the other hand, were only given the briefest of mentions.

Distracted as they were by their search, Umbridge’s ‘hem, hem’ from the front of the room surprised them. She dismissed the class and students slowly slumped out of their chairs, eyes glazed and bodies stiff.

Dreading the conversation to come, Kronnis joined the Emperor in walking to the front of the room. “You have wonderful command over your class; I appreciated the lack of distractions,” he started, honeyed words dripping from the easy smile affixed to his face. “We were actually able to read ahead a bit. The analysis on different types of dark charms was fascinating, although I find myself wondering where more information on curses might be located?”

The smile Umbridge had sported upon their approach turned condescending as she thanked him. “Oh, I don’t see a reason to teach students about curses, seeing as they’ll never encounter them.”

Kronnis had nothing nice to say to that. The subtle insult he might normally wield if he heard an opinion this moronic back home was swallowed for diplomacy’s sake, digesting bitterly in his chest.

Sensing his failure to respond, the Emperor handled their recovery. “Efficient. Many classes bloat their material with irrelevant content. I noticed there were quite a few chapters covering conflict resolution.” A rather large understatement. “Impulsivity is ripe in youths; I must say that I approve of educating them on the use of soft skills, rather than relying on spellwork to solve problems. My only hope is that your lessons are taken to heart.”

Appalling. The Emperor was right, of course – in a twisted way. If wielded correctly, words were just as powerful as spells in achieving goals. The point was moot, however, as the text had only the most barebones and useless instructions on how to go about negotiating your way out of murder and maiming.

“I’m glad you agree. There’s no reason for them to ever be in any danger.” The words were said as if the very idea of self-defense were preposterous. “But enough about my class, how have you been finding the others so far?”

“We feel a bit spoiled for variety, to be honest,” Kronnis joked. “Potions and Charms have been the most interesting so far, but it’s still early in the week. We actually had to stop by Baldur’s Gate yesterday for a preliminary report, so we haven’t had much of a chance to visit different classes yet.”

Interest sparked in her surface thoughts. “Positive news, I hope?”

“Very. Hogwarts is impressive.” He leaned in, lowering his voice as though letting her in on a secret. “I hate to admit it, but we don’t have anything quite like it back home. The Ducal Palace is certainly a sight to behold, and I’ve seen many a lavish mansion and manor. Schooling, however, is simply not as centralized as it is here.”

“More emphasis is placed on apprenticeships in various professions,” the Emperor explained further. “Lacking access to a worldwide non-magical population, everything in Baldur’s Gate must be produced in the Underdark. If you are able to demonstrate enough skill in a trade, chances are that you will be able to find a master to apprentice yourself to or work under. Agriculture and Herbology are particularly prominent industries, given the specialization of expertise and magical knowledge needed to grow crops underground.” That was a lie, but they could hardly claim that slaves did most of the menial labor, as they would in real drow societies.

A thousand years was not nearly enough time for a true ecology or agriculture to develop in an underground setting, like it had in the ancient Underdark of Faerûn. No one had informed them of any local caves large and diverse enough for anything more than fish and insects to crawl into and shed their sight. They were banking on wizards simply not understanding how subterranean environments worked, trusting Kronnis and the Emperor to be experts on the matter. The lack of education geared towards sciences certainly worked in their favor. Kronnis doubted anyone here even knew what the words speleogenesis or stalactoflage meant, insular as they were.

Umbridge, feigning personal curiosity, questioned them further on the topic. Her interests obviously aligned with what the Ministry would like to know, if one was paying attention.

They discussed the struggles of bureaucracy, the regulations surrounding industries and their labor, and the partition of government and commercial enterprises. Bringing up the Ministry’s departments, Umbridge spoke of her own work that she did for the Minister, pride clear in her voice.

In return, Kronnis shared minor details of the assistance they lent the Grand Duke. Although not officially employed in any capacity, working as an unholy mixture of advisor and errand boy – when he wasn’t running the Knights of the Shield with the Emperor – was close enough to her own job description as Senior Undersecretary that her sense of kinship grew.

Truth was that he played many roles, more publicly known for philanthropic investing and the occasional sorcerous exploit than he was for the backroom deals that they made with dukes and politicians. But that wasn’t what Umbridge wanted to hear about, nor could he tell her all about the fame that came with being the hero that saved the city.

An absent mental reprimand kept his ego in check, the Emperor reminding him who had actually used the Netherstones to dominate the Netherbrain and allow its defeat.

Kronnis would share the glory if he could! It was a shame his partner was too much of a coward to take credit, preferring instead to fade into the shadows. Their old companions were equally as famous and respected, they just hadn’t capitalized on local renown, leaving the public’s attention to fall solely on Kronnis instead.

Delusions of grandeur placed him next to the most regal illithid in the world as they publicly declared their conquest of the Netherbrain.

He was broken out of this fantasy when Umbridge further questioned the details of the Emperor’s involvement in judicial matters. Once again fudging details, the information shared led her to believe him to be some sort of privately-contracted prosecutorial advisor – an expert called up during complicated legal matters.

The eventual arrival of curious fourth-years cut their conversation short, her next students doing a poor job of pretending not to eavesdrop as they settled into desks that had been magically re-straightened at the end of the previous class.

Harry sat on a table in an abandoned classroom, holding the Marauder’s Map in his hands and watching as footsteps labelled ‘Kronnis Teken’rret’ and ‘The Emperor’ approached through the halls.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him on the night of his arrival at Hogwarts, compelling him to retrieve the map from where it lay stashed in his trunk. Shrouded by the curtains of his four-poster bed, he’d spent long minutes combing the castle’s floors, finally finding their names in a set of adjoining rooms, likely whatever guest quarters had been arranged for their use.

Unsure of what he’d expected to find, the strange blur hidden under the text that clearly labelled a pair of footprints as the Emperor’s was a mystery he’d puzzled over ever since.

Faded letters were just barely visible, like muggle graphite erased and overwritten by the sharp quill strokes that spelled out the moniker that the illithid had introduced himself by in Grimmauld Place, claiming it was a nickname he’d adopted.

If it truly was just a nickname, Harry had thought he might see the Emperor’s real name in its place, whatever it might be. After all, Peter Pettigrew had shown up as such instead of Wormtail. Whoever the Emperor identified as was apparently more complicated than the map was equipped to decipher.

Squinting, the clearest section Harry could make out was the large letter ‘B’ that the name started with. Curiously enough, having seen it printed in the Prophet, the rest of the letters almost seemed to match up with the first part of Baldur’s Gate, the city they said they were from.

It reminded him of a similar name that he’d noticed the previous year, that of a now second-year Hufflepuff who had loudly declared his name to be Oliver, rather than the one McGonagall had read out from the list.

Wondering if there was a mistake or oversight in the way the map had been enchanted, he resolved to ask Sirius at a later date how it identified an individual’s name. The charmwork was leagues beyond his own skills, but even a group of schoolboys as talented as the Marauders were susceptible to miscalculations.

He put those thoughts aside, looking up as the footprints reached the door of the classroom.

Kronnis entered first with papers, quill, and an inkpot bundled in his arms. The tall form of the Emperor was like a dark shadow following him.

“Hey Harry, did you happen to take Divination as an elective?” Kronnis asked, straight to business.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty easy class. Not very useful though,” he admitted, remembering all of the dream journals and fake visions he and Ron had made up in lieu of actually having anything meaningful to submit for assignments.

The bundle of items was dumped on the table next to where Harry was seated. “Is Trelawney ever right about anything? I mean, she must have some talent, being a teacher here, but how accurate is the practice really?”

Harry thought back to when she’d seen the Grim in his tea leaves, years ago. “I wouldn’t say she’s that accurate. In my third year she saw an omen of death in my teacup, but it turned out to be Siriu-” he broke off, suddenly having the horrifying realization that it was possible she’d actually predicted Cedric’s death. When he continued it was with a smaller voice, choked with emotion. “Well, maybe there is something to it, I suppose.”

Kronnis and the Emperor exchanged a look before the illithid responded with dismissive words. “Predicting death is deceptive, especially without a time frame. It is inevitable.”

Wanting to change the subject, Harry asked them about their sudden interest in the matter.

“Trelawney had all sorts of things to say about my tea leaves,” Kronnis explained. “Something about prosperity, a happy marriage, and of course misfortune and death as well. Sounds like that might be a favorite of hers.”

That rang a bell in Harry’s memories. He thought back to a whispered conversation he’d overheard earlier, dismissed at the time as another fabricated addition to the rampant gossip currently circulating about the foreign ambassadors. A huddle of third-years in the common room had been exchanging suggestions on a supposed love interest of Kronnis, ranging from a fiancé back home, to a deceased lover, and, most unfortunate to his ears, Professor Umbridge. He was just grateful that the whispers hadn’t been pointed in his direction, ridiculing him for claiming Voldemort’s return. “Did she happen to say anything about a scandal?”

Kronnis gave him a strange look, as though concerned that his own mind had been read. His response questioning in tone. “Yes, actually.”

Harry grimaced. “There are some…” he hesitated, chewing his bottom lip, “unfortunate rumors spreading about that.”

Shameless enthusiasm unfurled on the drow’s face. “Well, now I simply must know.”

“I believe the worst ones involve you and Umbridge in a romantic context.” The Emperor’s blunt words – somehow already knowing the intimate details of all the gossip Harry was privy to – seemed to slap Kronnis on the back, doubling him over in sudden laughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he demanded between chuckled breaths, turning to the illithid.

“It was not relevant.”

The curt response was obviously not what Kronnis wanted to hear. “It’s relevant to me! What are they saying about you?”

“Nothing of note. If you recall, I did not participate in the divination exercise that has obviously provided the student body with enough speculation to forget about the more pressing claims of Voldemort’s return. I find the rumors about you far more interesting.” Squinting in a strange manner, the Emperor sounded amused at the situation, almost playful. Harry found it hard to tell, given that the illithid was rarely anything other than serious.

“Uh-huh.” Clearly doubtful, Kronnis turned his eyes to Harry. “Help me out here Harry, what have you been hearing about him?”

Suddenly uncomfortable at being drawn into this argument, he tried to pick out the most inoffensive things he could remember. “Uh, well, most everyone seems to agree that he’s very mysterious. And obviously people are curious to know what he really looks like. I think there was something about telekinesis just being a wandless levitation charm?” He shrugged helplessly, not wanting to mention the truly disturbing comments he’d heard from a seventh-year.

The girl had been certain that the Emperor’s species branched off from dementors, or were dementor half-breeds. Harry was pretty sure that wasn’t even possible and pushed aside his memory of the unfortunate explanation she’d given when an equally skeptical student had questioned her on the logistics of creating dementor half-breeds.

Kronnis huffed, unimpressed, and turned back to the Emperor again, fixing him with a silent glare that implied they were having a private conversation.

Not knowing if he should interrupt them, Harry tried shuffling the map to draw their attention back to the task at hand. He made sure to keep his left hand hidden in the sleeve of his robe. It was still a blotchy red, the words ‘I must not tell lies’ clearly visible where Umbridge’s quill had cut itself into his skin during his detention the previous day.

The rustle of paper did its job, and the pair looked back at him as though nothing had happened. “Right, we don’t have all day,” Kronnis said, moving to stand next to where Harry was seated. “So how does this thing work anyway?”

“You need to tap it with a wand. Hang on, I’ll deactivate it.” Harry showed them how it functioned, getting off the table to spread the map on its flat surface. As they gathered around it, he found their current position. “We’re here,” he showed them, tapping his finger on their tight collection of names and footprints. “The map shows everyone’s location by name. You can see over there,” he pointed out moving footsteps a couple of corridors down, “that’s what it looks like if someone’s walking around.”

Purple eyes had lingered on their own name for several seconds before following the rest of the explanation. “This is remarkable. It displays everyone’s location in the castle at all times?”

“Just about. It only shows areas that my dad and his friends knew about, so any passages or hidden rooms that they didn’t find aren’t on here.”

Splaying blank papers out on the table, Kronnis began asking questions about Hogwarts, quill ready to copy secrets.

The Order supposedly trusted their new allies, but Harry had to admit some misgivings, watching greed bloom in the drow’s eyes as they roamed over his map. They’d claimed they would use this information to navigate the castle more efficiently – reasonable, given how often Harry himself had gotten lost or ended up on the wrong staircase in his first year – but it felt like he was handing over the keys to his home.

Regardless, he’d already agreed to this arrangement, and the only truly strange thing they’d done so far was try to befriend Umbridge. Distasteful as the action was, he understood they were just playing their role.

Harry spent the better part of an hour explaining all he knew, going over towers, dungeons, and hidden rooms. The constant scratching of Kronnis’ quill accompanied his words, shorthand maps and notes on how to locate and activate hidden passages dutifully scribbled down.

Eyebrows raised at the long list of shortcuts and passwords Harry recited, revealing the passages concealed behind paintings along the Grand Staircase. They led to the seventh floor, the second floor, the Boathouse, the Clock Tower, and the Middle Courtyard, eliciting a remark on how impressive it was that one tower connected just about the entire school.

On the other hand, the path between the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack was dismissed as worthless, only written down as an afterthought.

The Emperor commented from time to time, but was mostly engrossed in looming over the map to watch footprints patter through the castle, eyes occasionally resting on the corner where Harry kept their location folded open to check for potential disturbances. His deep voice eventually interrupted to remind Kronnis that they apparently had research on curses to conduct, and correspondences to sort through.

Harry’s question on whether the research was related to his scar revealed that it wasn’t. It was simply another side effect of Umbridge’s lack of teaching ability. Apparently, her first-year class was identical to the fifth-year lesson he’d attended yesterday.

Frowning, he absently rubbed the scabs on the back of his hand at the reminder of how that particular class had gone for him. “She’s got to be worse than anyone else we’ve had – besides Lockhart. I wouldn’t even call what she’s doing ‘teaching’, more like supervising us while we read and then getting angry whenever someone asks a question. Was she this horrible when you met her at the Ministry, or does she just hate being a teacher?”

“She has some rather strong opinions,” the Emperor offered, seemingly lost in thought for a second before speaking again. “I would recommend you avoid being caught alone with her.”

That warning came a little too late. An unconvincing hum and awkward shuffling of his feet gave Harry away. They both turned their attention to him, concern visibly dancing over Kronnis’ face. “Don’t tell me you have detention with her.”

“All week, unfortunately. Yesterday’s wasn’t too bad.”

Lilac eyes looked him up and down, assessing his person for damage. They rested on the inflamed left hand that he still held clasped in his right, an admittedly suspicious position. A complicated war of emotions briefly warred on the drow’s face, exasperation beating frustration and disappointment into submission. This was all quickly hidden behind a steel façade of seriousness, matching the demeanor the Emperor tended to carry. “We warned you to be careful. What did she do?”

Harry’s own frustration suddenly spiked. “I was just writing lines.” Why did everyone have to mix themselves into his business? First Hermione and Ron told him to take this to the headmaster, and now Kronnis was trying to get involved. “I thought you were here to learn about our magic as part of your cover story? I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I made a promise to Sirius to do just that,” Kronnis replied curtly, a frown breaking through his stony exterior. “The implication was to keep you safe from attempts on your life, but how do we know she isn’t going to try something if she gets you alone?”

“In all fairness, I doubt she would attempt a murder in Hogwarts – right under Dumbledore’s nose.” The Emperor’s words were more casual such a topic warranted.

“Not yet, but she might get bold or try to stage an accident. And wasn’t it you who said last week that the track record of Defense professors wasn’t very promising? Half of the ones he’s had tried to kill him.”

Harry interrupted. “You’re insane, why would she try to kill me?”

Grim faces greeted him. The silence that ticked by told him that they were likely having another private conversation.

Temper flaring again, Harry spat out his next words, betrayal hot in his throat. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The irritation bled from Kronnis’ face, replaced by tired resignation. “Look, for this whole thing to work you need to not know some things. One wrong comment could unmask our entire ruse. I don’t know what Umbridge gave you detention for – I assume something about Voldemort, or criticism of the Ministry’s curriculum. Can you please just leave the Voldemort thing to us? I promise you that nothing is going to happen, the Ministry is not going to suddenly listen to you if you just keep shouting that he’s back without any proof. Once we get that proof, we can…” he trailed off. “Well, we’ll go from there.”

Harry grit his teeth. “And what about the Defense lessons? How are we going to defend ourselves if Death Eaters come knocking at our door?”

“We are unable to change what the Ministry has elected to teach you,” the Emperor said. “Perhaps self-study can fill in the gaps.”

Plan beginning to form in his mind, Harry agreed. “Alright, I’ll try to play along – but you have to answer some questions honestly for me. You owe me that much.” As Kronnis’ mouth opened to reply, Harry quickly interrupted to specify, having seen the ease with which that silver tongue had already twisted words to charm half the school and even Umbridge herself. “Three, I want three honest answers.”

Shrewd eyes studied him, and the corners of the drow’s mouth curled upwards into an approving smile. “Alright, three questions. But,” a warning finger was held up. “We reserve the right to veto them if you ask for information that might be dangerous for you to know.”

Unhappy with the stipulation, but knowing that he likely wouldn’t be able to negotiate any better terms, Harry nodded.

Kronnis leaned back on the table as though sitting for a talk show interview – some of Petunia’s favorites – before gesturing for Harry to begin.

He started with the question that got them into this argument, wanting a proper explanation. “Why do you think Umbridge might try to kill me?”

“She’s done it before.” Kronnis’ revelation was both shocking and confusing. Harry’s mind whirled, trying to recall what he might be talking about. “The dementor attack during the summer? That was her doing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried again. She’s not a Death Eater, in case that was going to be your next question.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Harry blurted out before he could catch himself.

Kronnis’ smile grew into a smirk, but it was the Emperor who answered. “I read her mind during your hearing. Your public claims of Voldemort’s return are inconvenient to the Ministry. She hoped to quietly get rid of you to assist Fudge, not that the Minister knows about it. It was honestly well thought out. If you saved your life with the patronus charm, the Ministry could try to expel you for performing underage magic – which they did attempt. You are lucky that Dumbledore was able to swing things your way.”

Contemplating, Harry kept his mouth shut, not wanting to play into their game. The conspiracy they unveiled was unsettling. He felt ill at the thought that he’d been in the same room as her, although a bit more warning on the matter really would have been appreciated.

Given the opportunity, he decided to use his last question for a personal inquiry. An inconsequential one, but Harry had his suspicions on the nature of the answer, and was curious to see if an explanation would even be forthcoming. The Emperor had been awfully cagey regarding facts about himself when they’d discussed the information provided in the Prophet.

Harry picked up the map. Glowing in the depths of his hood, the Emperor’s eyes narrowed down at him and then followed the movements of his hands as the paper was thrust into their vision, Harry’s finger hovering over the strangely blurred name belonging to the illithid. Knowing that he’d undoubtedly seen hundreds of others during their study of the map earlier, Harry asked his question without clarification. “What does this say under your name, and why does it look like that?”

A second passed. Then another. Kronnis, looking awfully comfortable compared to the rigid frame of the Emperor, cleared his throat meaningfully. Those eyes eventually looked up from the map, capturing Harry in their intensity. He saw age that he’d never before noticed in the tall figure.

“It says Balduran. My name before I became what I am now. A name I no longer use, but one it seems I will continue to be defined by.”

Harry blinked. “Were you named after Baldur’s Gate?”

The snort of stifled laughter coming from Kronnis was ignored.

“I believe that not only have we answered your three questions, but we also gifted an additional one. I will only say this once. My past is my own and no business of yours, nor is it relevant to anything in your world. I would prefer it if you let this particular matter rest.”

Confusion took the wheel of Harry’s wildly racing train of thought until he realized that his third request had contained two separate lines of questioning.

The answer had been along the lines of what he’d expected. The Emperor’s use of the term ‘nickname’ to describe the name he went by made it clear that he’d had another name, in the past or the present. Having no idea as to why it was not in use anymore, and not wanting to press his luck, Harry decided to drop the subject.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, head swirling with mixed emotions on their willingness to be forthright after the confrontation.

“We are putting our trust in you Harry.” The Emperor’s voice no longer sounded as old as dust. “You cannot act as though you are aware of Umbridge’s plots. She never told a soul, and investigation on how such a personal secret has come to light would be disastrous for our plans.”

Settling ominously in the back of Harry’s head, the words echoed through his mind during his detention later that evening, drowning out the feigned politeness of Umbridge’s prattling. He didn’t talk back. Thinly-veiled barbs went ignored as he wrote his lines in pained silence, watching her hands for any sign that she might go for her wand to cast an Unforgivable.

“He said his name was Balduran. Like the city they said they come from, Baldur’s Gate?” Harry said, quietly unfolding the map to show his friends the room where the Emperor’s name overlapped completely with Kronnis’. Were they… standing on each other’s shoulders to reach a tall shelf? No, that was ridiculous, the Emperor could just use telekinesis. They were probably collaborating on a reply to some dreadfully boring letter. “Said he doesn’t use it anymore. That he’s different now or something? He… seemed kind of sad, honestly.”

Hermione, face bright red for some reason, quickly wrenched her eyes away from the paper. “You’re sure he wasn’t making it up?” she asked after a moment, the soft tones of her voice barely making it across their circle of chairs in the Gryffindor common room.

“Look,” he tapped the name, drawing her attention back to its strange font. “The parts of it that you can make out are accurate to-” Harry broke off when she swatted his hand away from the map.

“I’m not looking at that, put it away!” Hermione’s whispering was aggressive, almost a hiss.

Harry looked around the common room, bewildered by her reaction. There was no one close enough to see or overhear what he was trying to show them. When he made eye contact with Ron, lounging on the couch, his friend seemed equally as clueless.

He set the map down beside him. “Anyway, I haven’t thought of a good reason for him to make up something similar – it’s not like we’d know any other names from their home. He’s never seen the map before, so he wouldn’t have known that his name looked like that.”

“Seems weird though,” Ron said, leaning forward to join the conversation. “And what kind of name is Balduran anyway? Who’s named after a city?”

Hermione turned to him. “Actually, I had a girl named Paris in my class back before I went to Hogwarts. They’re not that uncommon.”

“Sounds pretentious. Mind you, purebloods name their kids after constellations, that might be worse,” he laughed to himself.

“Anyway,” Harry said again, trying to get them back on topic, “the only other thing we talked about is that they told me to stay away from Umbridge if I could help it.” He didn’t bring up the other half of their conversation, about how Umbridge had tried to have him killed. If Hermione found out she would go straight to the headmaster or the first teacher she saw, regardless of his wishes.

“I could have told you that, after what she did to your hand,” Ron reassured him, speaking as though that was the most obvious fact in the world.

Hermione nodded, her lips pursed. “I know she’s going to keep denying Voldemort’s return, but you can’t let her get to you.”

“It’s fine, really. Two detentions were enough. I’m not going to rise to her bait anymore.”

There was pity in Ron’s eyes. “Mate, you’ve still got the rest of the week. I don’t know how you’re going to get your potions essay done, Snape was a right bastard to assign fifteen inches on the first day.”

“We need to teach ourselves Defense too, obviously Umbridge won’t do it.” Seemingly willing to increase her workload by an entire class, Hermione’s suggestion reminded him of their third year, when she’d taken every single elective offered at Hogwarts.

Harry was more hesitant. “The Emperor said that too – suggested we should just study all the material ourselves, but we don’t have a teacher or anything, never mind the time.”

Vindicated that her opinion was shared by a figure of authority, Hermione’s eyes shone. “We’ll figure something out – but we really do need to work on that potions essay. Have either of you started the introduction yet?”

Grimacing, Harry and Ron shook their heads, and were then sent off to fetch their textbooks and parchment to begin the task that was sure to take up the rest of their evening.

When Harry eventually retired to bed, gathering his things and deactivating his father’s map, he saw that the Emperor was now alone, with Kronnis’ name nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Kronnis was running for his life.

Looming on a hill in the distance, the moonlit walls of Hogwarts were a shining refuge – a sanctuary flashing between broad tree trunks. Welts formed on his hands as he tried to keep branches from blinding him, sprinting and stumbling his way over roots and rocks.

His staff, Markoheshkir, bounced painfully where it was slung across his back, tormenting burns that flared with each shift of his skin. It was a beacon, alight with crackling electricity that highlighted his position to every being in the forest that wished him harm. And, well. As far as Kronnis was concerned, at this point that was pretty much the entire forest.

Hundreds of legs dogged his footsteps. Arachnid in nature, the drumming of their claws was a constant threat at his back. Some rhythms were lopsided, their creators having recently lost a leg or two or three. The sheer amount gave the impression of an earthquake rumbling behind him, or a landslide tumbling ever closer.

Above his head, oaks and sycamores rattled as spiders climbed and jumped through the canopy to menace him from the sky. A brief turn to unleash another mind blast bought him a few more feet to breathe.

Just his luck that a literal army had erupted from the ground.

Not even an hour ago had Kronnis snuck out of the castle under cover of darkness. Alone, as the Emperor had brushed off his request for company, opting instead to draft gruff responses to unanswered letters.

Kronnis was aware that this wasn’t a slight against him, privy to his partner’s inner thoughts. Despite providing what he’d hoped to be a distracting deep tissue massage – every night when the veil came off it was the same complaints about cramped tentacles – and a tender tumble through the sheets, the Emperor’s melancholy had remained. A mood that blew in like a summer storm, gathering when Balduran’s hot temperament stirred to rise into the cold calculation of the Emperor’s higher thought processes. The resulting instability melted previously analytical thoughts into philosophical ponderings.

As soon as he’d laid eyes on the name displayed on Harry’s map, Kronnis had known it was coming. He couldn’t hope to understand the blend of identities residing in the Emperor’s head. Was he an illithid born with vestigial memories, or had Balduran survived, only to be twisted into something unrecognizable by alien instincts?

Sometimes, the storm dissipated under the slightest breeze. Other times it would shake foundations and crash through the air, and Kronnis would have to take care not to compare it to Ansur’s tempest. He’d done so once, and the Emperor had turned to walk right out of the Elfsong, disappearing into the wind for a tenday.

So when his request for company was denied, Kronnis had respected his partner’s answer – an unsaid desire for privacy – and set out on his mission, his gait confident and eager. A monster-filled forest awaited, its allure calling to him like the song of his goddess.

He’d wandered. He’d gaped at the tall pines. He’d investigated hoofprints in the dirt and heard the howls of wolves in the distance. Trails of glinting silk had led him to a cobweb-filled depression in the ground, occupied by a group of enormous spiders – certainly the Acromantula that Snape had mentioned. Ignoring how suspiciously extensive the terrain alteration was, a Fireball had gleefully been sent into their midst. That had been mistake number one.

After blinking away temporary blindness, night vision ruined, his first instinct had been to use his staff’s charge of Chain Lightning to take care of the stragglers creeping out from hidden burrows.

He could handle this with ease, he’d thought. It was only a few more.

Only, they hadn’t been stragglers, but rather the first scouts of a colony he wasn’t equipped to face alone.

A deluge of further fire and electricity descended like the wrath of an increasingly perturbed god, upcast as high as possible in the hopes of wiping the entire nest off the map. Psionic shoves sent back anything that came too close, and he’d spared extra seconds to gather the willpower necessary to warp gravity into a dense pit, slowing everything in range.

It was a brutal fight. They’d died in droves, and when the tides started turning – magic was not infinite – Kronnis had reasoned with himself that he couldn’t just leave empty-handed after all this effort! Surely there must be an end to the madness. These were spiders, after all. Solitary creatures by nature.

And yet they’d reacted like a hive of ants, kicked and prodded and enraged and – the sudden pain that gripped his mind and soul when he tried to cast another Fireball revealed that he was out of third-level spell slots.

Staring, Kronnis’ heart had thudded into his throat as horrifyingly massive limbs continued to burst from collapsed tunnel entrances, the newest wave intent on savaging him to shreds.

They were on him before he could get far, only briefly stunned by a mind blast. Claws battered him to the ground and stomped him into the dust. Fangs clashed against armour as the roiling mass of bodies fought over their prize, tearing flesh wherever they found purchase.

The panic that had seized Kronnis was unfamiliar. He had no backup, no companions to distract or make up for his weaknesses. The immediate death rushing to meet him and the torrent of curses and internal screaming that deafened his mind as he stared into the inhuman eyes of his would-be murderers prompted a split-second decision, mainly fueled by an urgent need to get these f*cking things off him.

Reaching his fingers to where Markoheshkir had been knocked away, he’d pulled on its power to overcome a shortage of higher-level magic, gritting his teeth and casting a seventh-level Fireball. This time, it was centered on himself. That had been the second mistake. Or perhaps the third, with the first being his possession of a confidence that left him unable to strategically retreat.

The blast had thrown back the heavy bodies crushing his own. And the burns, though anticipated, were so painful that he’d almost blacked out. Kronnis’ heart then sunk, acrobatically tumbling from his throat to the cold dirt beneath his stomach as a familiar feeling sparked with predictably bad timing.

A wild power had filled him, burning through his body in a completely different way than the Fireballs had. The intense sensation brought shudders to his body as the undiluted fabric of the Weave used him as a conduit to cast Fly.

Not on himself, to his dismay. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, a small spider on the periphery that had escaped his initial blast with five of its eight legs intact began floating up into the air, convulsing in confusion as it tried to make sense of its newfound ability.

Staggering painfully to his feet in the new crater – thanking the gods that at least he hadn’t polymorphed himself into a sheep ripe for slaughter – he’d then made his escape from a fresh wave of seemingly endless monsters. Or rather, he’d tried to.

Curses now flew from his mouth as he ran, broken between ragged breaths. Directed at the spiders – wretched servants of Lolth. Directed at today’s misfortune and misery, and directed at himself. Kronnis was supposed to have saved one of those spell slots to Teleport back to Hogwarts in an emergency. He’d promised.

The Emperor would not be pleased.

Kronnis just hoped that he’d given up on the letters and gone to bed, leaving him free to sneak back into their rooms without an earful about why he had a foot and a half in the grave. He was betting everything he had on the hopes that his pursuers would simply be bounced off the wards. Those had to exist for a reason, right? How else had the school not yet been assaulted with the combined might of the entire Acromantula colony?

Thinning ahead, the tree line now granted a clear view of Hogwarts, its lawns a wide-open expanse of no-man’s land. Kronnis just had to keep running, keep up the desperate sprint and-

His feet left the ground, momentum almost sending him head over heels in the air. Not that such a thing would have been possible with the absolute control his partner’s telekinetic grasp had on him.

“What happened?” The outraged words reverberated in his head like thunder, blasting thoughts into disarray.

Instincts compelled Kronnis to adjust to his new position, arms pinwheeling uselessly as he was levitated ever higher above the legions of Acromantula that now poured out of the forest and onto the green grass he had just stepped foot on. His vision swam with exhaustion, and perhaps the first effects of the venom pulsing through his veins. It was his mind that eventually pulled itself together to help him orient himself, feeling his partner’s presence in the air above.

“Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, fighting to suck air into searing lungs. His body made its displeasure known, various injuries that he’d been ignoring now jostling for attention.

“I thou-ggrk-” About to defend himself, his voice was interrupted when large claws painfully pulled his head back to push the glass lip of a bottle to his mouth. The taste of a healing potion was instantly recognizable.

Forced to either swallow or choke, Kronnis tried to relax his throat against the sudden intrusion to allow the liquid a smooth passage. Wounds faded as the potion worked its magic. He only had a brief second to cough and clear his airway before another was relentlessly force-fed to him. A half-formed comment about terrible bedside manner was quickly drowned before impulsivity could vocalize it.

“Of all the idiotic…” The Emperor’s words trailed off, likely continuing the furious tangent in the privacy of his own thoughts, stone walls harshly cutting off the direct access Kronnis would normally have.

As if the embarrassment of being man-handled wasn’t enough, insistent and impatient prodding at the periphery of Kronnis’ mind strengthened now that he was no longer in danger of either bleeding out or passing out. He felt rough hands brush through his most recent memories without regard for permission, peeling them apart to figure out what had happened, panicked concern leaking out almost imperceptibly from behind the anger currently throttling his mind.

Blinking to clear his vision, Kronnis made out a threatening image towering before him – an illithid, livid and wild, eyes blazing brightly in the dark of night. A fearsome expression was pulled over features that normally softened at the sight of him. Tentacles were agitated with emotion, tremendous effort keeping them restrained to prevent a constricting of his neck.

“Should probably-” Kronnis paused again to wheeze for air, feeling quite pathetic compared to the strength currently on display before him, “take an antidote as well.”

A rounded bottle was wordlessly levitated out of the pack of emergency supplies that the Emperor wore slung over his shoulder. Kronnis curled his own fingers around it before clawed hands could mercilessly shove it down his throat like they’d done with the other potions. Swallowing the bitter taste down, he felt the sting of lacerations ebb, venom flushed in a way that regular healing potions were unable to fix.

Satisfied with Kronnis’ health, the Emperor then settled his full attention on the problem beneath them, where angry chittering occasionally warped into something resembling words. “We cannot simply leave them here.”

Clawed hands released Kronnis’ head once its imminent movement was sensed, allowing him to twist around to see for himself.

Horse-sized spiders were swarming the grand pines that marked the edge of the forest, branches bending under their weight. The dense mat spilling out on the empty Hogwarts grounds, a dark sea of infinite legs, indicated that the rest were congregating. Deliberating on how to reach their escaped prey.

“They might follow us back into the forest before anyone sees,” Kronnis said, grateful for the distraction from the argument that was sure to follow. He hoped there wasn’t an astronomy class watching from a tower. This would be difficult to explain.

“You intend to go back in there?” the Emperor challenged, squeezing his mind in incredulity and grasping his collar as if to hoist him into the air. A show of force, or an attempt to regain command over the situation. Clearly the loss of control was disturbing to an illithid psyche, something Kronnis couldn’t fault his partner for.

They were already a hundred feet above the ground. If the Emperor truly wanted to intimidate him, he would’ve just let telekinesis slip for a second. That would have gotten Kronnis’ heart racing in the intended way.

“Do you have any better ideas? I only have first and second-level spells left.”

No reply was forthcoming.

Their conversation paused, the Emperor considering the spiders again.

Something moving in the sky caught Kronnis’ attention as he waited for his partner’s decision; an undulating blob of black and brown, blending in with the canopy beneath it. As the moon showed its face between the clouds, bathing the scene with the radiance of Eilistraee, he realized it was the five-legged spider that his wild magic had chosen to cast Fly on.

Annoying. If he’d been the one Fly had been cast on, he would’ve been much more graceful and appreciative. This wretched creature somehow hadn’t yet realized that force of will was the only thing needed to move through the air, and was frantically wheeling its legs around like a fly thrashing in a web.

The Emperor, attention pivoting once more from the problem below them, looked up to see what had caught Kronnis’ ire.

“Ah.” Ugly emotions quickly rose to a crescendo, recognizable not only on the Emperor’s face, but also clear in the air – a hair-raising tremble that grew as his agitation finally bubbled over. Releasing one hand from Kronnis’ person, the illithid aimed it in the spider’s direction with intent. Badly-concealed righteous wrath and perverse excitement, resplendent on his partner’s features, stole his breath away.

Expectant, the Emperor clenched his fingers violently as soon as the spider came into range. Legs flew through the air. Goo splattered the trees below them. An empty carcass thudded to the ground, cannibalized by older siblings.

Kronnis wiped a smear of opaque grey sludge from his shoulder.

The Emperor’s attention shifted back to him. “We will lead them back into the forest, from the safety of the air.”

Indignant, Kronnis shot back his response. “That’s what I said!”

“You only suggested that they may follow us back into the forest. That was not a plan.”

“That was-” He broke off, a low psionic hum warning him not to test the subject further.

“We will lead them back into the forest,” the Emperor repeated, “and then we will have words.”

Kronnis did not argue.

The Emperor solidified his telekinetic grip, releasing the collar of Kronnis’ armour to clutch his hand instead. Long fingers, conveying emotions that were not admitted out loud, held on like a lifeline.

They were off with an intangible push, masterful illithid control sweeping their bodies past trees that carried eight-legged fruit. Kronnis turned his body to watch as the horde followed, a furious and ravenous black mass spilling back between trunks like a river flowing downhill, an orchard picked clean by unseen hands.

Purple eyes plotted their course, guiding them around boulders, over hills, between roots and low hanging branches. In their wake, flashes of fire erupted to illuminate the scene. Scorching Rays streaked from Kronnis’ free hand to thin the herd, sending the foremost spiders bowling backwards like flaming cannonballs, broken limbs crunching as they crushed brothers and sisters. The forest was painted black and grey with the evidence of their passing, charred foliage and pooling hemolymph changing the landscape.

Locating a relatively flat and open clearing, the Emperor conjured a circle as dark as tar beneath them as they passed above. A trap, intended to corral pursuers.

Their flight continued to the other side, and so did the spiders, not pausing for even a second before tripping headlong into Evard’s Black Tentacles, appendages sprouting from shadows to restrain and smother. Siblings climbed over each other, undeterred by the sudden wall of friendly bodies before them. Row after row met the same fate.

The Emperor brought their momentum to a controlled halt, allowing steady aim at their captured prey. As Kronnis manipulated sorcerous energy into the power needed to call forth another Fireball, he thought that the sight was the second most beautiful thing he’d seen that evening. A moment was spared to relish satisfaction before he lobbed destruction below him.

Dozens of arachnids cooked in the open inferno. The sounds – the sizzling and screaming, the popping and crackling – didn’t last nearly as long as Kronnis wished them to. Conjured tentacles faded after a minute, and eventually the golden glow of fire did as well, leaving only silver moonlight to illuminate the clearing.

Once his darkvision readjusted with the changing light levels, Kronnis was granted a view of scorched grass and charred husks.

Clinically efficient, he identified the last targets, aware that this was not the time to drag out his fun. He muttered arcane words and twisted his fingers to guide the blinking lights of Magic Missiles as they broke open carapaces, stilling the few bodies that remained in motion. A series of crunches echoed across the clearing before it was silent again.

“I’m out of spells,” he announced. It had been a long time since he’d felt empty like this. Since he’d felt that glorious aching sensation of his soul being overstimulated by the raw abrasion of magic, the last dregs of power wrung from him.

The Emperor lowered their bodies to the ground but didn’t lift a finger to help cut fangs from whatever bodies were not currently dissolving into ash. Aloof as though atop an ivory tower, emotions clearly being restrained within himself, the mind flayer’s expression resembled granite.

It was dirty work. Kronnis quickly found his hands stained with soot and juices that he couldn’t even begin to identify. A half-burned spider on the edge of the clearing weakly chittered in fear when he approached it, its legs having been crushed by the heavier bodies of its comrades.

He put it out of its misery with a simple cantrip. Shocking Grasp forced its way out of his palm with a rough surge of electricity and a pained groan, but the death curl of broken limbs indicated that it had done its job.

The heavy weight of an illithid’s watchful eyes followed him until he returned to their owner, dripping fangs stowed in a satchel at his belt.

“I’m sorry,” Kronnis apologized again, more sincerely this time. “I… miscalculated. If I’d known how many there were I wouldn’t have started a fight without more preparation.” Humiliation burned through him, casting his eyes low.

“A miscalculation that could have ended your life, had you had not made it close enough to the castle for me to feel your desperation.” The Emperor’s words were cold.

He was right. Kronnis could have easily died in this forest. Alone and pitiful, devoured by the very fangs he’d set out to collect. Why had he upcast Fireball to seventh-level instead of Teleporting away to abandon the endeavor? Was it just a panicked mistake, or was it a portent – a prediction of his eventual downfall, implicating the culprit to be undefeatable arrogance?

“I-” He broke off, not knowing what he’d even been about to say in his defense.

The Emperor was angry, yes. Furiously so. But Kronnis would be too, had his partner been the one to almost get himself killed on a foolish self-imposed mission.

The anger, however, was only the uppermost layer of emotion that he could feel in the Emperor’s words. The tip of the iceberg. Underneath lay the truth of the issue – a bone-chilling fear of loss and solitude. He knew this illithid’s mind well enough to recognize the insecurities he’d triggered, and at the worst time – the Emperor had probably been in the midst of mournful memories.

Shaking, his hands reached out to clutch the Emperor’s. Kronnis bundled his shame. His regret. His own fears and frustrations and adoration and attachment. In his mindscape, he stood before the iron bulwark guarding his partner’s mind, offering in hand. A pathetic knock requested entry – an intimate coalescing of minds was a thousand times more efficient than mere verbal conversation, preventing misunderstandings and allowing insights that words could never describe. Some things just could not be fixed with silver tongues.

The barrier was slowly lowered after a moment’s deliberation, claws tightening their hold on his fingers as emotions were released to flow freely between them once more.

A complicated exchange followed, the intensity of which would have given any non-illithid the world’s most splitting headache. Kronnis was just barely spared this fate by virtue of his extensive experience in navigating the mental realm that made up their connection, and the illithid tissue that had replaced much of his brain. Still, the Emperor had the upper hand in this environment, and it showed.

His overbearing and multifaceted mind immediately forced Kronnis’ into capitulation, absently shrouding him in a protective shell at the same time. The Emperor’s displeasure and distress were merged so tightly that one could barely tell them apart.

Pushing back against the presence that had caged him, Kronnis worked to blunt the anger that pricked at his synapses like thorns. He salved his partner’s emotions with compassionate sentiments and they reflected together on memories steeped in regret.

He was smart enough to have learned his lesson, his near brush with death clarifying that jumping into danger without preparation was foolish at best, and a death wish at worst. In the back of his mind, he thought that he should’ve known. He hadn’t been born yesterday, after all. Years of letting his talents languish unused had festered something in him.

In the elaborate web of communication that Kronnis wove between their minds, the message of devotion was clear, a vow reaffirmed. “I’ll never leave you.”

Lines of thought extended to sort through his apology. Seconds passed, an eternity in their mindscape.

The Emperor heaved a slow sigh, tense muscles relaxing. Too proud to stoop, gentle psionics instead lifted Kronnis into the air again, where they could press their foreheads together. Reassurance bloomed, overpowering the harsh emotions the illithid had been stewing in. “Your arrogance and recklessness control you.”

“I thought you found my arrogance endearing,” Kronnis said, finding the strength to muster a smile.

“At times.” A shifting in the Emperor’s mind caught Kronnis’ attention – the tail end of a dismissed thought that threatened to lock him away in a gilded cage. “I understand it is in your nature, individuality that I cherish. But you cannot endanger your life like this.”

Kronnis mulled his response over before taking a risk. “It wouldn’t have happened if you’d come along. I know you weren’t really writing letters – you were drowning yourself in work, and I bet that none of what you wrote ended up being professional enough to send off.”

As the Emperor pulled his head back an inch and narrowed his eyes in warning, Kronnis rushed to speak again, wagering that the admiration purring in his words would ensnare his partner’s attention. “I also know that you enjoyed it when you crushed that spider. I saw it in your eyes. When was the last time you held absolute power like that over another creature?”

The invisible grip holding Kronnis level with the Emperor’s head tightened. “About two nights ago, I believe.”

Chuckling, Kronnis released his partner’s hands to instead wrap arms around broad shoulders. If he hadn’t been dangling weightlessly in the air, his embrace would’ve brought the Emperor low.

Lips whispered softly against what passed for an illithid’s jawline, the underside of tentacles twitching in Kronnis’ warm breath. “You know what I meant. You were beautiful – devastatingly so. An illithid reinforcing dominance over those beneath it. You don’t need to question who you are. You simply are,” he paused to let his words sink in. “Was it not cathartic? Thrilling? When you hold something’s life in the palm of your hand, what do you feel?”

“Power. Authority. Satisfaction.” The words were slow to come, as though the Emperor was relishing the memory.

Kronnis knew he’d won, smirk hidden against his partner’s neck. “Come with me next time, I’d like to share this with you. I know you yearn for adventure – I can taste it in the sea salt that breezes through your mind, as much a part of you as the pursuit of control is. It’s why you agreed so easily to come to this plane.”

Reluctant grumbling met his request, but the Emperor’s emotions betrayed that he’d already made up his mind.

It suddenly seemed like everything in the world was right again. Having slaughtered hordes of monsters, diffused their argument, and tamed the storm in his partner’s mind, Kronnis made another suggestion, high on success. He didn’t want to return to Hogwarts just yet. “Let’s go flying, it’s a wonderful night.”

“Only for a little bit,” the Emperor murmured in his head, long arms wrapping around his waist and tentacles holding him close. Moonlight dappled their forms, rising through the trees in a mixture of levitation and telekinesis until the full force of its silver light finally illuminated them.

Reminded of the exchange they’d shared during Flitwick’s Charms class, Kronnis laughed at the easy acceptance of his demands. Telekinesis on demand indeed, the Emperor never disappointed.

Their ascent only slowed once they were dozens of feet above the canopy. Kronnis could see the forest stretch for miles into the distance, pines turning into a dark blob on the horizon that surely hid countless secrets. Reflections danced across the Black Lake, interrupting the darkness of its namesake. Ripples in its waves hinted at movement below – a mystery for another day. Faint lights in the distance evidenced other human habitation, likely the village of Hogsmeade.

Dominating the landscape, Hogwarts stood proud on its hill. No longer a desperate refuge of safety, but rather the centerpiece of a stunning vista, windows lit with teeming life. His refuge now floated with him, tenderly writing a love song on his skin.

The world tilted. Reclining comfortably as though the sky was a bed beneath him, the Emperor pulled Kronnis to sit on his torso, legs spread and feet swinging over empty air. He straightened up once tentacles loosened their hold, eyes returning to the panorama no one else could claim as their own.

It was views like these that he’d left the Underdark for.

He was only allowed meagre minutes of awe before hands captured his face, the Emperor’s nails tracing down his cheeks to demand attention. “Spellbinding, like a newborn star. I seem to find myself bewitched anew every day, as sure as the sun rises in the morning.”

Kronnis beamed down at the love of his life, basking in the full force of the illithid’s fixation, rare as it was with how labyrinthine that mind tended to spread itself. “What makes you say that?”

“You shine brighter than any others in your shadow. Let me show you.” An incomprehensible consciousness pulled at his own, requesting permission. Kronnis didn’t hesitate for even a second. Falling into alien perception, he saw himself through the Emperor’s eyes.

Twinkling stars framed his body, a backdrop of black and white and a dozen other colors imperceptible to humanoid eyes. His hair was radiant in the moonlight, strands falling past his face in glowing curtains. Strong features stood in stark contrast – grey skin tinted silver by the light of his goddess and shadowed ominously where the moon’s gift was broken by black claws.

Kronnis felt his breath catch. He saw his own lips part as the double vision stunned him. In his mind’s eye he held both the Emperor’s gaze and his own at the same time.

The feedback threatened to spark a wildfire in Kronnis’ brain, halted only by a quick reaction from his partner. Gentle pressure soothed something within him, not only the neurons that had been about to revolt at the unnatural perception, but also the aching and worn-out muscle that allowed him to manipulate the Weave.

Kronnis would have leaned into the touch if he could, settling for the mental equivalent of melting into the Emperor’s mind instead. He was received with delight, cupped amidst countless lines of thought that curled and then flowed through him.

Half-lidded lilac eyes seemed to shift in colour, mirroring the vibrant purple below him. Kronnis’ view of himself was then severed with a precise snip of the Emperor’s mental fingers.

He waited a few moments before speaking, vision drifting above his partner’s head to where flickering points of light bathed in a stunning swirl of colour. “You truly think I’m more captivating than the stars?”

“More than the night skies of both Faerûn and this world combined. More than the stratosphere of the Astral Sea. More than the twilight horizon and luminescent fireflies of the Feywild.” The words were drip-fed into Kronnis’ ego, hypnotically pulling his attention back down to the being uttering them. Claws, still cupping his head, brushed smugly over the smile growing on his face. “I could go on.”

Kronnis kissed long fingers. “Please do.”

The deliberation that followed showed an incriminating lack of further material. Apparently, the Emperor hadn’t thought this far ahead. A trap of his own making. Perhaps he thought Kronnis would throw himself into his tentacles after a few creative compliments. “More than… the firmament of the Glimmersea.”

Expectant expression hungry on his face, Kronnis remained motionless, waiting to see how much further he could push this.

The prolonged hesitation before the illithid’s next response signaled the end of his game. “…More awe-inspiring than the meteor rain that created the Sea of Fallen Stars?”

“You know that’s just a legend,” Kronnis laughed.

“It makes for an impressive visual.” The Emperor’s retort sounded very defensive.

“It does,” he agreed. “Maybe one day I’ll learn Meteor Swarm and then I’ll live up to it. I could create a sea of my own and gift it to my better half, to sail until the end of time.” Balancing his hands on the Emperor’s shoulders, Kronnis leaned down to press his lips against the sensitive skin where the roots of tentacles parted. “But I need to become a more powerful sorcerer first. We’ll probably need to kill a lot more spiders.”

The Emperor chuckled in his head, tentacles reaching up to caress Kronnis’ body, a soft display of affection to compensate for a lack of gentle lips to reciprocate with. “I have already agreed, there is no need to bribe me.”

Kronnis bade his partner to wait, brushing off the appendages tightening around him. A shuffle followed, more awkward and dangerous than it would usually be. He settled with his head and back to his partner’s chest – arms holding him captive to prevent a lethal fall, and tentacles draped around his neck and shoulders like a scarf. His staff was abandoned to float in the air beside them, now a cumbersome obstruction. Comfortable and warm, shared body heat protecting him from the chill of the night air, he stared up at the same stars that the Emperor had compared him to. “Maybe we should have gone to astronomy class. These are all so unfamiliar to me.”

“We can create our own constellations. Those over there,” a long arm entered Kronnis’ vision, pointing to the right where a circular formation sparkled, “could be a beholder.”

Kronnis hummed in agreement, gesturing to a larger cluster elsewhere in the night sky. “I was looking at these ones, they kind of reminded me of Halsin’s owlbear form. And over there,” he said with a laugh on his lips, “those four in a square could be a gelatinous cube.”

“Very creative,” the Emperor drawled, clearly dazzled by his imagination. “I noticed something much more impressive. Up there, a bit to the left, I see a magnificent octopus, proud tentacles flaunting its strength.”

“Where?” Kronnis demanded, skeptical of this claim.

A hand gently grasped his own, manipulating his fingers to point into the air above them. “There, see? The body,” his hand was moved in a circle, and then guided to follow curls of stars, “and the tentacles spread out so.”

Face flushing, Kronnis’ next words were goading in tone. “I see. He’s very handsome, perhaps I’ll have to have a conversation with him sometime, from one creature of beautiful starlight to another.”

“What would you say to him?”

“I’d tell him that I think he has the most alluring tentacles I’ve ever seen,” Kronnis began, reaching up to stroke the coils around his shoulders. “And then I’d ask him if he’s a projection imagined by a very conceited illithid I happen to know.”

“I think he might be a bit insulted at that.” Heavily muscled appendages constricted teasingly around his neck, catching his wandering hand. Kronnis’ blood threatened to race elsewhere as he realized that he was completely helpless. Suspended hundreds of feet in the air and sapped of magical power, he was at the Emperor’s mercy – even more so than usual. “If you are not careful, he might steal you away and squeeze and twist and crush,” each slow word was punctuated by a tightening of tentacles, “until you can never escape him.”

With his last breath, Kronnis gasped out a response. “I’d call him a cuddlefish.”

“What?” In the Emperor’s confusion he released his grip on Kronnis’ throat.

Hysteric laughter shook them both as the returning rush of oxygen and blood made him deliriously lightheaded. “A cuddlefish!”

“That is not – oh.” A huff of warm breath tickled Kronnis’ scalp. Sour that his metaphor had been interrupted, the Emperor only let the faintest hint of his amusem*nt trickle through their connection.

“But he’s not just a cuddlefish – he’s also my starlit guardian, sentinel of my dreams and mind. The shield to my sword- to my knight.” Kronnis grinned, satisfied that his wordplay had more weight to it than the Emperor’s earlier compliments had. “When we met, you saved me from falling. Now you raise me up, above everyone and everything else. High enough to touch the stars, and one day I’ll make them my own.”

A warmth enveloped his mind. The Emperor’s pride and contentment, wordlessly vowing aid to achieve lofty goals.

Anonymous against the infinity of the night sky, they let a companionable peace engulf them. Fleeting conversations only briefly interrupted the journey of the moon.

“Have you ever even been to the Glimmersea?”

“…No.”

“Ha! You thought you’d get away with that?”

“I did.”

“I think I’d like to go. Sometimes… I miss the Underdark.”

“You need to remember to forget about gravity.”

“That makes no sense!”

“It does. You are thinking too much about what is holding you down. You need to let go. Rely on the instincts that I know are buried somewhere in your brain.”

“I don’t understand why this was so much easier before.”

“I swear I saw something down there.”

“The waves are playing tricks on you, how could something that large live in a lake?”

“You just don’t want to believe that there’s something here with bigger tentacles with you.”

Bright light invaded Kronnis’ eyes. He scrunched his face, rolling it further into his pillow when that didn’t help. Barely conscious, dragged out of a mixture of meditation and slumber, the hooting of owls now registered to his ears. With a long-suffering groan, he tilted his head back, opening an eye to investigate.

Four owls perched on various surfaces in their bedroom. Two on the dresser, one on a chair, and one on a bedpost. Their eyes stared into his soul, knowing that he was now aware of them. As he watched, a fifth swooped in through the open window, starting a brief fight with the one on the chair as they argued over space. Its disturbance in the air had rustled papers on the desk – work carelessly abandoned by the Emperor in the middle of the night.

The squawking was insufferable. Kronnis reached up to wrap the pillow around his head, pulling at the tangle of limbs that were wrapped around him.

A voice complained, thick with sleep and missing words. His body was hauled back into position, a clawed hand draping over his chest and a leg entangling itself with his own.

“You left the window open,” Kronnis mumbled into the pillow he’d managed to keep hold of.

Finally, a full sentence graced his mind. “No, you were supposed to close it.”

“Well, I can’t get up now, can I?”

With quite a bit more bellyaching than Kronnis thought was necessary, the Emperor wearily raised his head, releasing Kronnis’ chest to twitch a hand in the air and rip letters from owls with more force than the action should have required. The birds, sensing their presence was unwelcome, swiftly left through the window, which was slammed shut behind them. Telekinesis was briefly abused one last time to pull the blanket back into order.

Eyeing the new workload waiting for them, envelopes torn at the edges, Kronnis made one last comment as he threaded his fingers with the hand that had run appreciatively over his body on its return journey to his chest. “I need at least one more hour of rest. Maybe two.”

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

The Owlery was unnecessarily tall and unbelievably drafty. Armed with a handful of bacon – now cold – and an armful of letters, Kronnis poked his head above the top step. Dozens of eyes rested on him, owls of all shapes and colors sizing him up suspiciously. The feeling was mutual. None were as large and threatening as Lucius’ owl had been, and some actually managed to look rather cute. As cute as you could be when standing in your own excrement and the tiny bones of long-digested vermin. Did no one ever clean up here?

“Which one of you would like to take a letter for me?” he asked, wiggling the handful of bacon and hoping they would come to him, rather than forcing him to walk over the filthy floor.

A line quickly formed on the railing, owls bullying each other for a space at the front. Kronnis was unwilling to break up a fight, knowing that the Emperor would never let him live it down if he was attacked in retaliation. And, quite frankly, he also had no intention of getting involved in the nuances of whatever social structure the strangely intelligent birds had. Turning a blind eye to the squabbling, he began tying letters to legs.

The process was awkward. He immediately realized that he didn’t have enough hands to attach the envelopes and also keep a secure enough grip on the bacon to prevent theft. The stack of letters was placed on the ground with a mental apology to whoever would receive the one on the bottom. Bacon was wedged under his arm. One by one, he painstakingly sent off each owl, offering the treat once they’d suffered through the ordeal.

Watching the last one fly off with a reply declining Madam Magnolis’ marriage proposal – a three-page essay detailing the wealth and assets that her family brought to the table – Kronnis hoped that the letter didn’t smell too much. Or that the smell might be mistaken for the natural odor of the bird delivering it, a cantankerous great horned owl that had shoved its way in front of the barn owl that should have been the one to take the letter.

As luck would have it, he’d brought extra bacon, fearing that some might be lost to thieving beaks. One piece was offered to the barn owl, who happily flew away with the treat, and the other was torn into smaller pieces and thrown to the floor after a moment’s hesitation. The Kronnis of the past had hoped that he might treat himself to the extras, if any remained.

He made his escape while the birds were distracted by the feast, lest they harass him under a misguided impression that he had more stashed away somewhere on his person.

Cumbersome task accomplished, Kronnis was relieved that no students had ventured into the tower to witness his struggle. He snatched up his umbrella from where it had been left propped against the outside wall of the tower. Protected from the sun once more, half for show and half to diminish the blinding effect that the bright light actually did have on his eyes, he marched off to the lake, opting to take a scenic route back to the castle. If he was lucky, he might witness the creature that he thought he’d seen lurking below the waters last night, and then he’d be able to gleefully shove the memory into the Emperor’s brain, proving himself right.

The Underdark was an exotic fantasy for most, but the opposite was true for Kronnis. Decades back – he’d long since stopped keeping track – it had taken a period of adjustment to get over the wonder that lush forests and sunlit plains evoked. Verdant flora, unlike the neon shades that occasionally popped up in bioluminescent fungi, were a rich delicacy his eyes had devoured.

But that was a lifetime ago, for some races. The wilds of Faerûn were now normal to him – grasses and flowers the same day after day, year after year.

Humid, earthy, and filled to the brim with strange plants, Hogwarts’ Greenhouses brought back hints of the fascination he thought he’d grown out of, their interiors feeling as alive as the vine waving through the air next to him. Kronnis resisted the urge to touch it. Poking unfamiliar magical plants rarely ended well.

They were standing at the back of the structure, looking over the heads of small children to where Professor Sprout explained the syllabus. Disappointingly, the actual handling of plants wouldn’t happen until the following year. First year covered the common uses of plants, identification methods, the dangers involved in cultivation and handling, and – honestly, this was starting to sound a lot like a friendlier version of Snape’s first lesson. Less threatening, but wow, there a lot of potential hazards awaiting these students. He eyed that vine with a bit more suspicion.

It was surprising that only a single student fatality marred the past century of Hogwarts’ history, and that the culprit had been a rogue basilisk, rather than a horrific classroom accident. Actually, there was also that Cedric boy, but Kronnis didn’t think that incident counted. Technically, it hadn’t been on school grounds, and entering a tournament known for its death toll and subsequently being murdered by a dark lord was a different matter entirely from perishing in a potions or herbology-related mishap.

Perhaps there were quite a few maimings no one had bothered to tell them about. The presence of an on-site hospital wing did imply a certain level of necessity.

As though reading his mind, Professor Sprout moved on to an actual lesson – a lecture on Devil’s Snare, a particularly murderous plant that enjoyed dark environments and strangling anyone unfortunate enough to wander into its grasp. It seemingly had no uses beyond guarding things that wizards and witches wished to keep others out of.

After promising to soon teach the students a fire-making charm that would drive away the plant if encountered, Professor Sprout eventually dismissed the class. For homework, the students would be expected to read the relevant chapter of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. Kronnis tuned this out, as he’d been done with homework for well over a century.

“I hope the lesson wasn’t too boring,” Sprout said when they joined her at a desk that doubled as a workstation, packing away the cutting she’d shown as a visual example. “First year always starts out a bit slow, children just want to touch without considering the consequences.”

The Emperor waved away her concerns, mentioning that they planned to attend some upper-year lessons when their schedule allowed. He then moved on to a more pressing topic, gesturing to the satchel Kronnis carried. “We brought some samples from Baldur’s Gate.”

Delight scrunched her features into an excited smile. “Oh! Dear me, what a treat!” she exclaimed, suddenly hurrying to clear a larger space on her workstation.

Once the clutter of pots and saplings had been moved out of the way, Kronnis unpacked a small selection of the reagents that he’d bought from Bonecloak’s Apothecary. “You won’t find many florists or botanists in Baldur’s Gate, so I had to make do with alchemy ingredients. We could try to source proper cuttings if you want to cultivate any of them. Although some – the weavemoss, for example,” he warned, his finger pointed at the purple lichen, “might not grow outside of the Underdark.”

“Is it sensitive to light? No, a simple darkroom could get around that. Perhaps it relies on a host species unique to the Underdark?” she guessed, eyes alight with curiosity.

It was the presence of the Weave that allowed this specific lichen to grow, but Kronnis had no idea if such a natural anomaly existed in this plane, or if areas steeped in magic would have the same effect. “It’s only found in a handful of locations and refuses to grow anywhere else. We don’t know why, but herbologists assume it’s related to the plant’s properties – an elixir made from it can temporarily increase the magical capabilities of the drinker, and the locations it grows in just so happen to have the highest concentrations of magic found anywhere in the Underdark.”

Her eyebrows rose, and her handling of the plant became reverent. “An impressive effect.” She carefully set it down. “Are you sure you’re allowed to hand this out?”

The Emperor nodded self-importantly. “We have been afforded certain privileges in the name of both entrepreneurship and diplomacy. If weavemoss does not grow above ground, then our industry can capitalize on a new group of consumers. If it does, then we have provided Magical Britain with a gift, and an example of the benefits that come with further association.”

“Isn’t that pretty risky for your market’s stability?”

“Our entire venture is a risk, but our economy hardly depends on a single product, and the dukes have already promised subsidies to the businesses involved in the industry, should this have a negative impact.”

In truth, it didn’t matter. If weavemoss was able to grow here then wizards would rejoice, and they would just have to scratch it off as a potential export. If it didn’t, then the Emperor could upsell it at ludicrous prices.

Honestly, their plan involved a lot of simply throwing things at a wall to see what stuck. Performing an intensive survey of both markets was too time consuming – they had to have investments in place by the time their story fell apart, an undefined deadline that could be one month from now or five years in the future. Trust would quickly dwindle after that.

“I see,” Sprout said, ruminating on the plant’s potential. Her musings didn’t last long, as a whole host of other unique plants sat before her. She pointed next at a slightly crumpled flower. “And this one? Its shape is familiar, is it a species of Oleander?”

Kronnis nodded. “Black Oleander. It grows near graveyards and can be used in an elixir to prevent the spreading of necrosis.”

She picked it up to inspect its petals. “What a marvelous divergence – Oleander is typically toxic.”

“Ah, the flower itself is still toxic if ingested,” he corrected. “Only its vitriol is safe to mix into a consumable.”

An appraising eye assessed him, the flower pulled away from where Sprout had brought it to her nose in curiosity. “You’re quite well informed on the properties of these plants.”

Kronnis gestured at the reagents on the worktable, dismissing her praise with humble words. “I’ve never grown any of these myself – dabbling more in alchemy than herbology – but I’m familiar enough with their effects.”

“Still, more knowledgeable than a layman,” she assured him with a smile. “You mentioned that you wanted to attend advanced classes, is there anything in particular that interests you?”

“Ideally information on plants with uses in potions, or other such effects,” the Emperor said. “Today’s lesson on the Devil’s Snare appeared to be more of a warning to students than an introduction to a practical application of herbology. At least, one that we could make use of.” His voice carried the amusem*nt that his face could not show. “An infestation in the Underdark would be uncontrollable. I will need to write to my contacts in Parliament and ask them to draft a ban on Devil’s Snare before any substantial trade is allowed.”

Sprout chortled. “Yes, I can see how that would be a bad combination.” Tapping the desk, she thought for a moment. “The third-years will be learning about Puffapods soon, and the second-years have a class on Mandrakes next week that you could attend. I’m sorry that the Devil’s Snare wasn’t helpful,” she looked chagrined, “it usually gets the first-years excited.”

“Nonsense, this is equally valuable information,” the Emperor reassured her, lying through metaphorical teeth. “Determining import and export regulations was always going to be tedious work. Getting started sooner rather than later will only help expedite the development of trade.”

“In that case, I could go over some other plants that thrive in peculiar environments,” Sprout suggested brightly. “There are quite a few magical flowers that only bloom at night, or shrivel up in direct sunlight. The luminia duskbell, for example, is exclusively found in the shade of hollowed out tree trunks.” Pausing, she eyed some of the stranger plants that awaited examination on the counter. “Actually, what sorts of agriculture do you practice? I imagine it must be difficult to grow anything underground.”

Outwardly engaging Sprout in a discussion on soil fertility and the ability of lichens to grow on the solid rock of cave walls, Kronnis privately sent some discontent sentiments the Emperor’s way. His partner at least had the grace to admit his conversational misstep, method acting getting the best of him.

Now they’d have to waste who knows how long on this discussion – completely useless to them, but apparently extremely important to Baldur’s Gate’s delegates.

Wishful thinking had Kronnis scouring the Emperor’s memory of Sprout’s schedule, but there was no sign that she had any conveniently timed classes coming up to distract her attention. His mediocre knowledge of agriculture and excellent skills in deception just barely saw him through the following hour of conversation without making a similar misstep.

Later that day, an unannounced visit to Snape’s office only resulted in a single raised eyebrow, the professor’s impassive expression twisting into curiosity as he ushered Kronnis and his bags of goodies inside.

“Where is the Emperor? I was under the impression that you two were… joined at the hip.” Snape’s drawl was full of implications, ones that Kronnis thought more amusing not to address, assuming a haphazard guise of ignorance.

Gesturing awkwardly with encumbered hands, he instead tried to mimic the tall pile of accounting ledgers and investment reports that Wyll had compiled for them. “He’s got a stack of paperwork about yay-high to work through.”

“Ah.” Understanding and sympathy kindled on Snape’s face. His eyes drifted to the large desk sitting in the center of his office – the only surface free of bottles and vials – where a pile of graded parchment had been abandoned. The newly added paragraphs of red ink were vibrant and scathing.

Kronnis could scarcely believe that the professor had already assigned and collected homework – the first week of lessons wasn’t even over yet! Or perhaps this was the dreaded 12-inch potions essay he’d heard a lot of complaining about back at Grimmauld Place.

He brought Snape’s attention back to himself, fingers letting one bag hang open to display its contents. “Anyway, I have some things for you.”

The scent of cooled cinders and Acromantula remains brought a pleased smile to Snape’s face, manifesting as the smallest tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me, you’ve already been to the forest?”

“Better than that, we also paid a visit to Baldur’s Gate.” Kronnis grinned, giving the second bag a jiggle. The clinking and rustling of glass containers and packaged goods could be heard from within.

Intrigued, Snape led him to an adjoining storeroom, where shelves towered to the ceiling, each drawer meticulously labelled. The first bag was carefully upended onto a modest counter, spider jaws clattering about on the wooden surface. “We weren’t able to save too many – turns out giant spiders burn really well,” Kronnis apologized.

The professor’s lip curled at the mess of dried hemolymph and ash that now dusted his counter. His hands sorted through the fangs, inspecting them for damage. “How many did you kill? This must be… fifteen pairs?”

“A lot more than that, there’s probably about a hundred still lying around somewhere in the forest.”

Disbelieving black eyes found his own. “You killed one hundred Acromantula?”

Well, that was just insulting. Kronnis felt the Emperor’s mind twitch from across the castle, suddenly alerted by the surge of indignation that had seized him. Watchful eyes intruded on his memories of the conversation, followed by a careful whispering that pushed aside the words that Kronnis had been about to utter, replacing them with a slightly more diplomatic phrasing. The response that fell from his mouth was barely his own. “Whatever method your ritual used to select us in particular, it did so for a reason. I am the most powerful sorcerer in Baldur’s Gate. A couple hundred giant spiders are nothing compared to defeating the chosen of a god.”

Snape looked at him strangely, apprehensive eyes rapidly shifting between Kronnis’ own as though inspecting something in them. A quick check confirmed that his mind wasn’t being intruded upon through Legilimency. Surely Snape wasn’t caught off guard by the Emperor’s words – they’d barely carried a hint of ridicule. Was there something in his eyes? Kronnis blinked, which seemed to break the moment.

Maybe, after being brought proof of their exploits, Snape was realizing that they hadn’t just been blowing hot air, back when they’d told stories of fights with hags, vampire lords, and gigantic flying brains. To be fair, if Kronnis met a random traveler who claimed to have ridden an Elder Brain, he would also have scoffed and dismissed the tale as exaggerated, fabricated, or hallucinated.

Back when they’d first told the Order about their previous adventure there had, of course, been some skepticism. Being unfamiliar with the existence of multiple realities – even Faerûn’s simplest farmer had heard of the Nine Hells – wizards and witches had what Kronnis would generously call a narrow worldview.

The non-magical population of this plane worshipped several deities, but true evidence of their presence didn’t exist – to common knowledge. Of these faithful, only the most devout would entertain the idea that gods actively meddled in the affairs of mortals to further their own goals. This information did have to be considered through a lens of bias, as wizards and witches were more inclined to revere the pure power of magic, rather than subscribing to the belief systems of muggles.

Regardless, this rendered stories of personally consorting with gods and their chosen rather unbelievable, akin to the fairy tales and bedtime fables told to children. Offhandedly mentioning Gale’s convoluted relationship with Mystra had been the last straw, resulting in Kronnis being called foolish for believing in higher powers. Once it was clear that their cultures had intrinsically different treatments of the concept, he’d realized that they were at an impasse, and given up the argument.

He'd love to prove himself right, but trying to attract the attention of a god for such a petty request was exactly the sort of witless idea that the Emperor would disapprove of. And to be honest, Kronnis had no way of knowing if they’d even be able to reach into this plane, or deign to answer. Sowing seeds of doubt in the minds of the Order – not all had been so quick to dismiss his experiences as a series of unexplainable phenomena – was far more satisfying than putting on a grand show with no results.

The important part was that they’d demonstrated capable ability and a willingness to assist, and that was enough for the Order to overlook potential delusions.

And so, rather than once more challenging his claims of defeating divine champions, Snape simply nodded and changed the topic. “I suppose I should be grateful that the forest still stands,” he said. “Some rather absent-minded students were telling the oddest stories this morning, of a dragon rampaging through the trees. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Kronnis made a face. He really needed to look up the astronomy class schedule. “Better a dragon than the truth, I suppose.”

Looking down, Snape picked up a particularly burnt mandible, turning it over in his hands. “With any luck, the rumor will serve to keep simpletons out of the forest.”

In Kronnis’ experience, there was just as good of a chance that adventurous students would go looking for some supposed dragon, but he didn’t voice that. “Right. So how does this work?” he asked, poking the curve of a fang.

“Some of these are useless,” Snape began, clearing a space at the back of the counter where he then started piling the jaws that he deemed too damaged to bother with. He sent Kronnis to retrieve a strange-looking device from a cupboard in the corner of the room, best described as a wide-based candlestick. Vials were stored separately in one of the labelled drawers lining the walls. It took some trial and error to find ones that would fit into the empty candlestick.

After a demonstration, Snape put him to work. Pressing a fang to the edge of a glass tube, Kronnis angled it just so, watching as a sickly yellow fluid dripped out of a tiny hole located near its tip. The importance of the widely-flared base of the contraption soon because obvious, as without it, the force he was using to maneuver and extract every last drop from the venom glands would surely topple the entire assembly. Another fang filled the rest of the tube, and he set it aside on a rack that Snape had fished out from some other shelf.

While he filled vials, Snape carefully measured the results of their work. Larger flasks were filled with exactly one pint each, and once finished, they’d managed to fill four, with a little bit left over.

“Is that a lot?” Kronnis asked.

“It is… not insubstantial. While the total value is a bit over four hundred galleons, selling it all at once would lower the price.”

Kronnis began doing math in his head before giving up, not knowing the purity of wizarding galleons. “Do you intend to sell it? I mean, four hundred galleons doesn’t seem like a lot. I spent more gold pieces on the reagents I bought in Baldur’s Gate.”

Snape looked at him strangely. “It’s an important ingredient in invisibility potions. I could use some myself, but this amount is too much for one person to exhaust before it loses its potency.”

“Oh, you know, I actually brought the ingredients for our version of an invisibility potion.” The other sack had been abandoned in a corner while they dealt with the Acromantula venom. Retrieving it, Kronnis set it down on the cleaner half of the counter. “Let’s see…they should be in here somewhere…” He rustled through its contents, setting glass containers and wrapped packages aside until he triumphantly pulled out a box labelled ‘Imp Patagium’.

“These are usually sold whole,” he began, pulling out one of the limbs with a familiar touch. “You have to carefully remove the patagium from the rest of the wing, and then calcinate it to render it friable enough to crumble into ash, which is the main ingredient of the potion. After that, the rest is easy. Just mix the ash with an essence of your choice for taste – I usually prefer acorn truffle, very nutty, or sylvan stone for a hint of the Feywild – and that’s it.”

“That seems… remarkably simple.” Snape frowned at the appendage that Kronnis was currently stretching between them, fingertips pinching the most distal phalange and the lopped off shoulder attachment.

Folding joints back together, Kronnis stowed the wing in the box it had come from. “I’ve noticed that too. You mentioned a few recipes in your lesson the other day, but most had at least double the amount of ingredients that I usually use for potions, and the brewing process itself sounds more complicated. I’ve made hundreds of potions, and I know how all these ingredients are used,” he gestured to the collection he’d pulled out of the sack, “but I don’t think I’d have the experience necessary to brew your potions.”

The slightest hint of a proud smile cracked the professor’s normally stony face. “I suspect that it may have something to do with the strength of the reagents you use. I combine multiple ingredients to tease specific properties out of them, and changing how they are prepared can have an effect on the end result – crushing a sopophorous bean is more effective than cutting it when preparing the Draught of Living Death,” he explained. “These imps, would they happen to have the ability to turn invisible?”

Kronnis nodded, confirming the professor’s suspicion. Looking back at the counter, he searched for some other ingredients. The package of rogue’s morsel was already lying next to the sack, and a quick check inside revealed the other item he was looking for. “That’s a good theory. If I make a healing potion with rogue’s morsel – a common mushroom – the end result is nowhere near as potent as one made from Ki-Rin hair, which comes from a very powerful magical creature. Getting a sublimate out of this hair is a nightmare though, might as well make two or three regular potions instead of spending all your money on some hair and then melting it down into a mess rather than getting it to turn into a gas.”

He unfortunately spoke from personal experience, and made his distaste obvious in his voice. “You’re certainly more than welcome to try yourself, that’s what I brought all this for. We figured you might be able to come up with new innovations – things alchemists in our world never would’ve thought of.”

Lowering the vial of ochre jelly slime that he’d been inspecting, Snape fixed Kronnis with a suspicious look. “Is this a bribe?”

“I personally consider it a gift. Or the first free sample of many,” he responded innocently. “But if you’re interested, we could discuss business opportunities-”

“While I would be happy to study the differences between my world and yours, the extra responsibility of a business venture is not something I have time for,” Snape interrupted, firmly declining the beginnings of Kronnis’ sales pitch.

The stringy red flesh terminating from the back of a Beholder’s iris made for the perfect prop to hold up like a lure. Kronnis gave it a jiggle. “You’re sure?”

“I have responsibilities that I cannot abandon.” Snape looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps scold Kronnis for not dedicating all his time to the defeat of Voldemort. That would be impolite though, as the nebulous agreement reached between them and the Order stipulated that they’d be able to research and make efforts to bring the magics of this world back to Baldur’s Gate.

“Fair enough,” Kronnis said. Mentally, he sent a message to the Emperor, informing him that he’d been unsuccessful in securing the professor’s services. On the other side of the castle, a note was added to a to-do list. They would have to find an alternative trustworthy source of potions. “I’d hate to drag you away from grading papers. If you ever change your mind, the offer’s always on the table.”

At his words, a longing glance was directed at the bundle of foreign reagents, quickly schooled and covered by inscrutable features. Kronnis knew better than to assume this to be a breaking of will – back when he’d delved into Snape’s head to test the shields of Occlumency, he’d sensed the commitment in that mind.

“Now,” he pointed to the vial still held in Snape’s hands, “I’m sure you’re wondering what that slime is for…”

“Oh, how cute. Whose pet is that?” Kronnis wondered as they walked into the transfiguration classroom. A tabby cat was perched on the desk at the front of the classroom, watching early arrivals with a stern expression.

The answer was swift in his mind, drenched in mirth instead of the usual low warning buzz that would follow Kronnis’ inquiries when a particular animal caught his eye. “That cat is Professor McGonagall.”

His steps faltered. “Is this another joke?”

“No.”

The Emperor’s response sounded honest enough, but Kronnis carefully extended his mind anyway. What should’ve been a simple bundle of instincts and awareness did indeed turn out to be the fully formed brain of a human, complete with a wry amusem*nt that spiked whenever a child walked into the room and blinked at the odd sight.

Kronnis struggled to keep his expression neutral, suddenly feeling like he was on the opposite end of an unfortunate incident he’d experienced during the Netherbrain crisis, when a wild magic surge in the streets of Baldur’s Gate had briefly transformed him into a cat.

Intentionally buried deep in his hippocampus was the memory of how he’d sprinted away from the scene, only to be caught by the surprisingly dexterous hands of an elderly lady, her grip speaking to a lifetime of manhandling cats. She’d only had scant seconds to coo and attempt to take his captive form home with her before the transformation had worn off, leaving them both in a heap on the cobblestone street.

As the Emperor led the way to their customary seats at the back of the classroom, Kronnis’ head whirled with the embarrassment of almost having begged to adopt a grown woman.

Once all the first-years had entered – stares also customary – the door closed with a click, and the cat jumped from the table to transform into the familiar figure of Professor McGonagall.

Her class ended up being similar to Flitwick’s, if a bit stricter. Theory, and then the introduction and practice of a fairly useless spell to turn a matchstick into a needle. Kronnis didn’t know why they couldn’t just go out and buy a needle if they so desperately needed one. Memorizing a whole spell for such a mundane purpose seemed daft.

They only briefly stayed after the lesson. McGonagall, or Minerva as she bade them to call her, seemed to have other matters on her mind.

Taking place not long after Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures was their last class of the week.

Professor Grubbly-Plank was substituting for someone named Hagrid, and introduced the third-years to harmless creatures called Flobberworms. The lesson she taught while they watched the worms slowly flop around in the dirt informed him that the Ministry of Magic classified this species with a single X out of five, for ‘boring’. A fair enough start for new students, but Kronnis was beginning to feel like he was being babied.

“I think I’m going to give myself homework,” he whispered to the Emperor, who appeared absolutely besotted by the plump worm in his arms. When Grubbly-Plank had cheerfully held one up for the students to interact with, none had volunteered, instead making faces at the very thought.

Torn from fond comparisons with illithid tadpoles, the Emperor refocused on Kronnis’ thought process. “Hmm? Oh, you plan to attend the upper year classes?”

Kronnis personally thought that Flobberworms looked and behaved more like Stilian Milkworms – a domesticated species that was fattened through a diet of rich Rothé milk. Mutters overheard between students informed him that Flobberworm Fritters were sometimes served for lunch at Hogwarts. Their diet of cabbages, however, cast doubt on how they’d compare to the creaminess of drow-raised worms. “If I have to spend another lesson watching students perform the most boring spells in the world, I think I’m going to start casting some much more interesting ones myself.”

The Emperor’s response was dry. “As amusing as they are, empty threats will get you nowhere.”

“You think I won’t do it?” Kronnis challenged, entirely ignoring Grubbly-Plank’s newest tangent on the reproductive habits of Flobberworms.

“I… have faith in your self-control,” the Emperor said in a wooden voice, as though he were trying to tell the world’s funniest joke with a straight face.

If Kronnis didn’t have a public persona to maintain, he would’ve thrown something at the offense. He also lacked anything to throw, but it was the thought that counted.

All he could do was plot and ooze displeasure.

Fork forgotten in one hand and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 propped up by the other, Kronnis tuned out the din of the Great Hall. True to his word, as always, he’d decided to spend the rest of the day studying up on Charms, starting with the mystery of why some had a duration that lasted longer than others.

The Emperor was sitting in the back of his mind, absently siphoning the fruits of his labor. Fingers lazily brushed through the memories, theories, and the realizations that Kronnis had come to during his investigation. “The duration is not exclusively tied to the strength of the caster. It is possible that each spell has a different rate of decay, dependent on the extent of the change wrought upon the object in question.”

“But if every enchantment has a different energy requirement, then how are they permanently enchanting things like Snitches? Maybe there’s a spell that allows enchanted items to absorb ambient magic.” If only Flitwick hadn’t left lunch early. With only Trelawney remaining at the staff table, it seemed his queries were destined to remain unanswered.

“Did you check the index for mentions of such a spell? Or a section detailing the charms placed on the Snitch?” The suggestion would have been helpful about fifteen minutes prior.

Bewildered at his partner’s uncharacteristic inattentiveness, Kronnis let disbelief color his mental tone. “I checked there ages ago! Have you not been paying attention?”

The Emperor’s consciousness curled like an aggravated snake, immense coils of thought suddenly defensive at the indignity of being questioned. “I have been preoccupied.”

Kronnis tore his eyes away from the textbook to look at the dark figure seated next to him, wondering what he could possibly be up to.

Nothing, as it turned out. The Emperor sat in his chair, unfocused eyes staring out at the student population rather than the page of accounting calculations that he’d brought to work on.

“What are you even doing?” Kronnis hissed in his mind. “Are you trying to unnerve the students?”

Purple eyes blinked, the presence behind them sharpening before they jerked in their sockets to make eye contact with him. “According to the newest rumors, Umbridge and Minerva had a bit of a spat earlier. I am trying to locate a first-hand account of the event. Half of these stories have already been twisted so much that they contradict each other.”

Textbook forgotten, Kronnis shoved his own mental fingers into the Emperor’s brain, quickly finding and piggybacking on the foremost activity dominating his partner’s cognition. An invisible touch nudged information his way, helping him relive the past half hour of the Emperor’s search.

Little Bianca had heard Tommy say this and that. And Tommy’s mind, sitting a couple of seats down, revealed that he’d heard it from Lee Jordan over at the Gryffindor table, who had in turn heard it from Morag – attention jumped to where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, memories swiftly and expertly dredged – who had overheard a whispered conversation between Micheal and Richard.

Neither of those two had been in attendance at lunch, so the search had to begin anew – the Emperor tracking down yet another source, and then locating their memory of who they’d heard the gossip from, before hunting for that individual amongst the hundred or so students currently in the Great Hall.

As Kronnis’ own eyes glazed over in the outside world, he sat in the Emperor’s mind and now watched in real time as the quest continued. Privacy carelessly ignored, the stream of whispers, stories, and hearsay was fascinating. The Hogwarts grapevine was rich with deliciously vibrant fruit; a snack to be plucked at their leisure.

Oh? Hang on, rewind that last memory. Lavender had called the Emperor what now? Kronnis grabbed that thought and gleefully brought it back to his partner’s attention, mentally making a mocking show of swooning once awareness rested on him. “Mr. Tall, dark, and mysterious, won’t you whisk me away to foreign lands to be pampered as an emperor’s bride?”

The reply was prompt. The threat real – although they both knew its execution had a good chance of being met with laughter. “If you are going to start this, I must make you aware that I have seen much worse things in these heads about you.”

“Yes, yes, my handsome features are frequently the object of envy and desire, I’ve heard it all before.” Kronnis responded, vanity and pride coloring his tone.

The snake struck, having remained curled around the Emperor’s mind, lying in wait to repay earlier insult. “There is a sixth-year girl currently doodling hearts around your name.”

His words left Kronnis squirming. That actually was kind of embarrassing. And uncomfortable. Shaking away his distraction, he focused back on the Emperor’s search.

It wasn’t long before the most recently located trail of gossip landed them results, the illithid triumphantly finding a student who had witnessed the confrontation between the two witches.

Watching the memory, it quickly became clear that either Harry had gone to Minerva about his detention with Umbridge, or that the Defense professor was freely handing out detentions like candy, punishing anyone who dared to speak against her. Regardless, Minerva was clearly unhappy with what she considered to be medieval punishment methods, which is what had brought about the entire confrontation.

Personally, back in Menzoberranzan, Kronnis had experienced discipline far more severe than scratching lines into his own skin. A particularly vicious flogging came to mind, mortifyingly orchestrated in front of the rest of his class to make an example of his failure to control a spell, and lasting until his throat was raw and tears had diluted the red liquid staining the tiles beneath him.

Just like the teachers in Menzoberranzan, Umbridge had taken criticism of her methods poorly. Admittedly, bringing all this up in a public hallway by the Great Hall didn’t seem like the best strategy – Minerva could use some pointers on how to approach people with contentious topics. The argument had gone back and forth for some time, until animosity between the two witches eventually reached a boiling point.

Umbridge took a stand – quite literally, as she stepped up on a staircase to address those below her on the dangers of disloyalty. Questioning her methods was evidently tantamount to questioning the Ministry.

Her final declaration, concluding the spectacle, had been heard loud and clear throughout the hall. ‘Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action,’ she had said.

Kronnis could see the writing on the wall. Umbridge’s plans, and the Minister’s by extension, were moving along more quickly than they’d anticipated.