Sussuration

November 28, 1992, 9:00 PM, Northern Canada

Unknown

In the vast expanse of northern Canada, late November painted the wilderness in tones of muted browns and grays. The landscape, now transitioning to winter, bore the weight of impending frost. Tall coniferous trees stood sentinel, their needles whispering in the crisp breeze. The ground, once soft with autumn’s decay, now crunched underfoot with a thick layer of frost.

A lone deer, its fur adapting to the changing season, cautiously ventured through the sparse underbrush. The weak moonlight filtered through the skeletal branches, casting long shadows on the cold ground. The deer, graceful in its movements, engaged in a seemingly carefree dance as it scrounged for the last remnants of edible vegetation.

Yet, nature’s serenity belied the harsh reality. The air, frigid and biting, hinted at the encroaching winter. Predators hungered for its flesh, for it would sustain them just a little bit longer.

Suddenly, the deer froze in place, its ears perking up in alertness. A primal instinct whispered danger, causing the creature to stand motionless, a living sculpture in the fading light. The wilderness held its breath as the predator, unseen yet undeniably present, lurked in the shadows.

The brush the deer had been staring at shifted, triggering its primal instincts to flee. However, panic set in as the creature attempted to bolt, only to realize its legs no longer had purchase on the ground.

In an inexplicable turn of events, the deer found itself lifted off the frozen earth.

Suspended in midair, it became a frantic, flailing spectacle of terror. The surrounding wilderness, once a familiar sanctuary, now became an eerie and surreal backdrop to this bizarre occurrence. The deer’s wide eyes reflected both fear and confusion as it struggled against an unseen force that defied the laws of nature.

Soon enough, its predator revealed himself, approaching the suspended deer with careful steps.

Cloaked in well-worn leather, adorned with weathered beadwork that whispered tales of his woodland journey, he moved with an unsettling blend of menace and quiet reverence.

His eyes, dark and piercing, held an untamed intensity, reflecting a man shaped by the harsh realities of the wild.

Long, unkempt locks of black hair framed his old face, etched with lines carved by countless seasons spent under the canopy of ancient trees. A pendant of carved wood etched with cryptic symbols dangled from his neck, hinting at a deeper connection to the arcane mysteries of the forest.

Moccasin-clad feet left scarcely a trace on the frozen ground as he advanced, a testament to his mastery of the terrain. Feathers, interwoven with his disheveled hair, danced in rhythm with the cold breeze.

The deer, caught in its suspended plight, let out a desperate cry.

The man, a stoic figure of the forest, stood silently, his expression unchanged. Bringing his hands together, he uttered a quiet thanks to the creature before, with a swift incantation, he snapped its neck with a quick spell, bringing an instantaneous end to its struggle.

Without a word, he turned away from the now lifeless form and gracefully moved into the depths of the wilderness, the deer’s lifeless body floating behind him.

As he approached a concealed campsite, three other rugged men awaited him. Their worn faces spoke of shared hardships and unspoken grit. The man laid the deer down, a silent offering from the heart of the forest.

“We give thanks to the forest.” Echoed through the concealed campsite as the men, bound by a primal connection to the wilderness, paid homage to the life they had taken.

In a ritualized unison, they gave a bow, acknowledging the cyclical nature of survival in the heart of the untamed woods.

Unbidden, the men set to work, their hands skilled in the age-old art of butchery.

The air filled with the sounds of blades against bone and flesh, a symphony of the forest providing sustenance to those who respected its ways.

The skin, organs, and meat were meticulously harvested, each part serving a purpose in the complex circle of life.

Yet, the main purpose of this kill had not yet been satisfied. The leader approached the lifeless, hollowed out deer with a solemn purpose.

With a spell, he extracted the creature’s eyes, organs that once beheld the secrets of the forest, transferring them to mortar and pestle, in which he crushed them into a fine paste, the rhythmic grinding echoing through the silent woods.

Satisfied with the consistency, the leader moved towards a cauldron suspended over the crackling campfire.

The cauldron emitted wisps of yellow as it brewed a mysterious concoction. With a deliberate gesture, he added the crushed eye paste to the bubbling liquid, the essence of the deer’s sight merging with whatever unknown substances had already been plunged into this concoction.

The campfire’s flickering flames danced in eerie tandem with the brewing cauldron, casting haunting shadows on the faces of the men gathered around.

The silence that enveloped the camp was broken by the voice of a younger member of the tribe, a flicker of doubt evident in his words. “Are you sure this will work?”

The leader met the young man’s uncertainty with a wise smile.

“Have more faith in our old arts, my friend.” He reassured the man even as he stirred the cauldron. “We carry the weight of generations, our strong traditions a testament to the enduring power of our people, who have weathered the long, steady erosion borne of the passage of time and the relentless attacks of our old enemies.”

As the potion transformed from a vibrant yellow to a shimmering reddish-white, the leader’s face broke into a contented smile. The concoction had reached its culmination.

With meticulous care, the leader collected a vial of the potion, his eyes scrutinizing the contents for any imperfections.

The campfire’s glow danced upon the glass, revealing the otherworldly hues within. The potion held the essence of the deer’s sight, as well as that of many others, distilled into a mysterious elixir that bore the promise of revelation.

Satisfied that his potion was flawless, he nodded approvingly.

The leader wasted no time and, with a swift determination, drank the potion.

For a fleeting moment, nothing changed, and a hushed anticipation settled over the camp. The youngest member of the tribe, on the brink of voicing his curiosity, halted as he witnessed an unexpected turn of events.

Suddenly, the leader’s eyes, once dark and shadowed, ignited with a brilliant white glow.

A luminous radiance emanated from his gaze, illuminating the night around him.

Now caught in an otherworldly trance, he looked around in utter bewilderment. His surroundings seemed unfamiliar for a few disorienting seconds. As realization set in, the leader pressed his lips together in a display of concentration, trying to break out of his trance.

His efforts to anchor himself within this newfound state were palpable. The others, bathed in the unearthly glow of his eyes, gave him words of encouragement as he resisted whatever called to him.

With great determination, he gradually coaxed his own dark eyes to pierce through the intense white glow.

The radiant luminescence persisted, a testament to the ongoing communion between the leader and the mystical energies stirred by the potion, but he had at least regained himself.

Silent yet purposeful, the leader cast his gaze around, his eyes now a captivating interplay of darkness and ethereal light.

Without uttering a word, he moved off in a seemingly random direction, beckoning the others to follow.

It was evident that he saw something invisible to the others, an enigmatic path carved by forces beyond the comprehension of those who now trailed behind him.

Minutes morphed into hours as the group followed their leader with unwavering trust. Through the heart of the forest, across the expanse of a great river, and into the concealed embrace of a cave, they ventured forth.

The cave, a dark threshold, opened into a labyrinth of untouched caverns, places where the pulse of humanity had yet to disturb the ancient echoes.

The leader, guided by the residual, steadily decreasing glow of the potion’s magic, moved with a purpose that transcended the boundaries of the known world.

The caverns they traversed seemed to absorb their presence, the walls adorned with glistening stalactites and the hushed whispers of a realm untouched by the hands of men.

Or, at least, seemingly untouched.

Well over a few hours into their venture, the group stumbled upon it— a tall tower seamlessly carved out of the cavern’s walls.

The very stone bore the same symbols that adorned each man’s pendant, an intricate language carved into the walls by forces nearly completely forgotten.

Nearly.

A collective gasp escaped the lips of the tribe as they beheld the structure, a majestic creation that seemed to merge with the natural contours of the cave.

In silent shock and astonishment, the men knelt before this unearthed testament to an ageless power.

“The Spirit Mesa.” The leader spoke for the first time since they’d left camp, with a resonance that echoed through the cavern, rising from his quiet moment of worship. The others, moved by a shared reverence, followed suit, standing in acknowledgment of their greatest legacy. “Found again after all these years.”

The youngest member, his eyes still reflecting astonishment, voiced his confusion. “I don’t understand, honored chief.”

The leader, his smile carrying the weight of ancient wisdom, addressed the young man. “Our ancestors built this tower as a sanctuary, a haven where our magic could flourish without interference and drive away the enemy. It was thought to be destroyed, swallowed by the earth, as our enemies sought to erase our connection to the old ways. But our ancestors, in their wisdom, should have known better. The tower was of the earth, and so it could not be destroyed by the earth.”

He moved forward, pressing hand against the carved stone for a long moment.

“Tonight, we reclaim you, our guardian of stone.” He whispered to himself, the fading glow in his eyes returning to full strength as he turned to the others. With a rising fervor, he addressed his companions. “We reclaim it! And with it, our connection to the primal forces that shaped our heritage. Let the fools at the MACUSA flail, call us Outsiders, humiliate and depredate our people as much as they like; we shall restore order, and drive the fools out of our lands.”

The other men erupted in cheers, the resonance of their voices echoing through the cavern.

Soon, a centuries-old yearning for revenge would find its fulfillment, as they embarked on a journey to restore the sanctity of their legacy.

The Spirit Mesa, once thought lost, would witness the resurgence of a power long concealed, and the men, bound by blood and purpose, would be the architects of their people’s vindication.

“Let us feast.” The leader said, and more cheers followed as the men began to set up camp inside the cavern.

War and death were coming for the MACUSA, but at least for tonight, they could enjoy the fruits of their labor.

oooo

December 1, 1992, 3:00 PM, Main Courtyard

Adam Clarke

The December air in the courtyard carried the gentle dance of snowflakes, each intricate crystal floating down from the heavens to join its counterparts blanketing the ground.

The world had transformed from stone into a serene winter wonderland, as if a painter had meticulously adorned every surface with a layer of pristine white.

The snow fell with a hushed grace, muffling the usual sounds of the castle and the distant calls of magical creatures.

The trees stood adorned, their branches delicately draped with a frosting of snow, creating a picturesque scene straight out of a storybook.

The ground, once familiar in its autumn hues, now sparkled under the soft glow of the winter sky.

Students bundled in warm cloaks and scarves left a trail of footprints on the untouched canvas of snow as they traversed the courtyard.

Laughter and excited chatter filled the air, but I paid it no mind.

As I stepped into the Hogwarts courtyard, a gust of chilly air greeted me, and I exhaled, watching my breath form a transient fog in the crisp winter atmosphere.

The air was invigorating, awakening my senses. I pulled my scarf a bit looser around my neck, savoring the delightful bite of winter.

The snow-covered grounds beneath my feet offered a soft crunch with every step, and I couldn’t help but smile at the pristine beauty surrounding me. 

The cold embraced me, wrapping me in its brisk embrace, and I relished the feeling.

There was a certain magic in the winter air, and I found solace in the quietude it brought. It was a season of stillness, a deceptive pause in the ever-turning wheel of time.

With each inhale, the chilly air filled my lungs, and I welcomed the sensations with eagerness.

I loved the cold— its purity, its clarity, and the way it seemed to slow down the world, allowing me to appreciate the beauty that surrounded me in that frozen moment.

The sound of my name being called disrupted the tranquility. Turning, I saw Daphne and Tracey approaching. A faint frown crossed my face at the interruption, but I mastered myself relatively quickly.

“Hey, Adam!” Daphne’s voice cut through the crisp silence, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “We’ve been looking for you. Got a moment?”

I nodded, acknowledging their presence with a polite countenance. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Um…” She said, looking around. “Could we do this elsewhere? Perhaps somewhere a little more quiet.”

“More quiet than this?” I said, though I did note that students still milled about the place, so I shrugged. “Fine.”

We navigated through the snowy courtyard, through a few corridors until we found ourselves in the hushed confines of an unused classroom, away from any prying eyes and ears.

The air inside was still, a stark contrast to the lively dance of snowflakes outside. I glanced at Daphne and Tracey, waiting for an explanation.

The two didn’t say anything for a while, so I broke the silence first. “If this is about asking for more lessons, I already told you that I’m done with that— too much on my plate already.”

Daphne exchanged a glance with Tracey before Daphne sighed. “It’s not about lessons, Adam. It’s about something more significant, something you need to be aware of.”

I furrowed my brows. That sounded far more ominous than I expected. “Alright, what is it then?”

Daphne hesitated for a moment before talking. “I overheard a few of the older students talking about you yesterday.”

“And?”

Her eyes searched mine for a reaction.

“Adam, they were talking about doing something… harmful to you.”

I raised an eyebrow, some concern flickering across my face. “Harmful?”

Daphne nodded.

Huh? I thought to myself, completely bewildered by the turn of events.

A moment later, my resolve hardened, with my demeanor changing along with it.

“All right.” I said, regaining control of my voice and pushing away the apprehension. “Who are they, and why are they upset?”

Tracey shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor. “We’re not sure who they are. It was a group of Ravenclaws, but they were too far away for us to follow and the hall was very crowded. We thought it was important to warn you.”

I sighed, a mix of frustration and exasperation bubbling within me. “Great, just what I needed. More trouble. Any idea what I’ll be dealing with— anything at all?”

Daphne bit her lip, her expression uneasy. “We don’t know, Adam, but it sounded serious. We thought you should be cautious.”

I ran a hand through my hair, contemplating the best course of action. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll handle it, but keep your ears open. If you hear anything more, let me know.”

“I will.” Daphne said. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I said, waving her words away. “You’ve given me warning, so I’m grateful.”

Still, she didn’t seem convinced, even as she muttered a subdued. “You’re welcome”.

The two girls quickly excusing themselves, I was left to my own devices. My mind churned with thoughts of who could be behind this, and more importantly, why I was being targeted.

“Maybe it’s just a whole bunch of nothing?” I said out loud as I leaned against a desk. “Jealous school kids planning a prank maybe.”

I knew, however, that school pranks tended to go terribly wrong, terribly fast. Considering that this was a school of magic, then the danger factor would be cranked up to eleven…

Of course, there was also the distinct possibility that the girls were wrong.

Oh, I didn’t doubt for a moment that they were telling the truth. Examining the subtle vibrations of their soul threads, I found sincerity in Daphne and Tracey’s words. The concern and fear were genuine. They believed what they were saying.

Nevertheless, I considered the possibility that this could be a misunderstanding.

As I reflected on their words, I remained cautious, acknowledging the need to gather more information before drawing conclusions.

Alef, any idea? I thought, hoping the spirit of knowledge had something. See anything unusual? You have access to everyone here.

Alef buzzed in the negative.

“Damn.” I muttered but shrugged. It’s not like I could expect Alef to actively spy on people for me, anyway. He was a free spirit and while he sometimes granted me favors, he was not beholden to me and was very rarely interested in people’s affairs.

No. This was something I’d have to figure out, myself.

I scoffed at the notion of altering my plans or cowering in fear due to such news— that would mean conceding defeat to them. My days of hiding away from bullies were over.

My steps echoed through the empty corridors as I exited the classroom, making my way out of the castle.

Though outwardly composed, my senses were on high alert, ready for any potential threat.

Embracing the chill in the air, I made my way toward the familiar spot near Hagrid’s cabin. It seemed to have a calming effect as I walked through the Hogwarts grounds. The world around me, blanketed in snow, radiated a serene beauty that eased the tension in my shoulders.

Despite the unsettling news from Daphne and Tracey, the tranquility of the surroundings worked its magic. Each step in the cold, crisp snow seemed to wash away a bit of the annoyance and frustration that had gripped me earlier.

As I reached Hagrid’s cabin, I noted the faint aroma of his stew wafting through the air, making me smile in appreciation. I followed the trail, reaching the well-used campsite.

The campsite near Hagrid’s cabin wore a serene winter cloak, the snow-covered landscape creating a picturesque scene.

Hagrid, shaking some of the snow off of his beard, moved about the site, stoking the flames of the large fire he’d built.

The crackling of the fire accompanied the strong scent of Hagrid’s stew, a comforting aroma that hung in the crisp winter air.

The snow-laden trees framed the campsite like sentinels of nature, casting shadows that danced with the flickering firelight.

In the midst of this winter tableau, Hagrid worked his magic over the open flames, his massive form hunched over the pot of stew.

The warmth of the fire created a haven against the biting cold, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the familiar comfort of Hagrid’s company. Harry was there too, sharing in the warmth and looking just as excited as I felt about the upcoming meal.

Hagrid turned his attention toward me, a welcoming smile breaking across his rugged face.

“Adam. Was wonderin’ when yeh’d get here.”

I returned the smile, appreciating the warmth emanating from both the stew and the fire. “Nothing like a hearty stew to warm the bones, eh?”

Harry grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. The winter chill seemed to have taken a toll on him, but the heat from the fire promised a respite from the biting cold.

“Harry.” I began, noticing his discomfort in the weather. “You all right?”

He shrugged, a determined glint in his eyes. “Just training for handling the cold. Gotta get used to it; winter Quidditch matches are coming up, and they can get brutal.”

“I suppose the cold is just one more adversary on the pitch, huh.”

Harry grunted again, his eyes fixed on the stew bubbling with anticipation. “I’ll admit, though. I’m looking forward to eating.”

“Same.” I said, settling down beside him. “Imagine, people used to live like this all the time before we started building homes. Hell, at one point, humans didn’t even know how to build a fire, so imagine how those people lived.”

Hagrid chuckled, shifting the log in the fire so that it burned a little slower. “Aye, it’s easy to forget how far we’ve come.”

We waited in a comfortable silence until Hagrid declared, “Food’s ready, then!” With a practiced hand, he shifted the coals away from under the boiling pot and began serving the steaming stew into bowls. He filled Harry’s bowl first, and then my own.

“You should get some for yourself, Hagrid.” I insisted, but he waved it off, nearly shoving the bowl in my hand despite his deceptively slow movement.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Yeh go on ahead.” Hagrid’s generosity was matched only by the warmth radiating from the stew.

“One of these days, I’m going to make you serve yourself first.” Adam jokingly said.

“Well, it’d better not be until I’m too old ter do it meself, Adam.” Hagrid said in response, chuckling as he filled his own, larger bowl. “Cause I’d probably still force yeh to eat first.”

“We’ll see.”

As we enjoyed the hearty stew, the laughter and banter cut through the chilly air, creating a sense of belonging that warmed us just as much as the fire did.

The worries about potential threats faded into the background, if only for a moment, replaced by the simple joy of good company and comforting food.

“What about you, Adam?” Harry said halfway through the meal. “You didn’t look so happy when you got here.”

I stared at him for a moment before looking into the flames, wondering what I should say. I decided to tell him everything.

As the crackling flames cast flickering shadows around us, I took a deep breath before sharing the news about the potential threat that Daphne and Tracey had overheard.

The revelation hung in the air, momentarily dampening the jovial atmosphere.

Hagrid’s expression grew serious, his bushy eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeh think someone’s plannin’ somethin’ against yeh, Adam?”

“That’s what I was told.” I nodded, the weight of the situation settling in. “I don’t have all the details, but I can’t ignore it. Gotta stay vigilant.”

“Maybe you should get help from Professor Flitwick?” Harry’s concern was evident as he made a suggestion, but I hesitated, shaking my head.

“I appreciate that, Harry, but sometimes going to a professor only adds more complications.” I sighed, then continued. “Besides, it’ll be tricky to prove anything like that. For one, I wasn’t even the one who overheard them— Daphne and Tracey did. More than that, I can’t give names or even descriptions.”

Harry’s gaze dropped. “Yeah…”

“Plus, even if I did find who it was, they haven’t even done anything yet.” I said, pausing to take a few spoonfuls of stew. “Mmm. You’ve outdone yourself this time Hagrid, by the way. Anyway, even if I do find them, they’ll at best get a mild warning from the Professor. That only just makes them worse in the long run.”

“Still.” Hagrid got both of our attention, understanding and empathy in his eyes. “We’re here for you, Adam. If anything happens, you know you can come to any of us for help.”

Harry nodded in agreement to that and I smiled, the warmth in my heart overshadowing even the heat from the stew.

“Thank you.” I said, moved by their words. A moment later, I looked away and cleared my throat, totally not wiping a tear out of my eye. “Enough of my depressing afternoon. Have you gone to see Astrid yet, Harry— and come to think of it, where’s Absol? I haven’t seen her anywhere nearby.”

“Oh.” Harry said, his face shifting in amusement. “They are cuddling.”

“… They are what?” I said, my mouth slightly open in astonishment.

Hagrid let out a full belly laugh at that, startling me for a moment.

“Told you he’d be dumbfounded.” Harry said to Hagrid, who only shook his head, eyes filling with mirth.

“This I’ll have to see.”

It seemed I had much catching up to do. But for now, I would enjoy this meal.