Chaos and Order - A Multiverse Fanfic

Around half an hour back,

Down and down, deeper than the 13 circles, which were buried into the ground like 13 discs, each larger than the previous ones, there was a chamber.

The 14th circle!

This 14th circle felt more like an odd cave than a circular hall.

In no way it felt like part of the ancient ruins, for it was just too old — older than the dust-covered stone walls and roofs.

Giant, pointy rocks, wet and covered with algae, were jutting out from all around, the sound of water dripping and stream running echoing everywhere.

There was also something extremely sinister about this place; a thin, ethereal black mist roiling and churning, going in and out of existence.

If Kai could see this black mist, he could have instantly recognized it, for he had used it to create the vilest creatures that walked the earth only a few months back.

Despair!

It was the embodiment of Despair and its quantity surpassed that of the Port Royal by far.

In this chamber, hovering many feet above the wet and slimy floor, was a humongous stone slab.

Long spikes were nailing a figure on this slab without touching it.

The skeletal figure had no distinct features other than it was very tall.

Its feet were up, its head was down, and its hands were outstretched, matching the shape of an upside-down cross.

The very air felt impure and sinister around this figure, hideous and heinous to the extreme.

On another look, one would have noticed that the number of spikes was exactly 13.

Also, right under the stone slab, on the floor, there was another figure, sprawled like a corpse.

If Darcie could see this lifeless figure, then she could have instantly recognized it, for it matched the appearance of the seller from last year, who had given her the mysterious object before disappearing for good.

It was then something happened that nobody, not even the grandest being of the Harry Potter Random World, could have expected to happen. Not here.

The moment Darcie took out the embedded marble from the gravestone, one of the 13 spikes, hovering horizontally over the nailed figure's right palm, stirred.

Then it shattered.

Bang!

With a bang that shook the entire chamber, two pale red dots lit up where the nailed figure's eyes were supposed to be.

It was then a hoarse voice, full of mockery, echoed, before melting into the lingering despair.

"Merlin… Oh, Merlin! Kekeke!"

*

*

Thursday, 28 May 1987

221B Baker Street, London

03:00 pm

Darcie watched the drizzle pelting London's smoggy street, an astrological chart propped open on her lap.

4 days had passed since the girls' thrilling adventure in the ruins under the burial grounds of Azkaban.

Thrilling, yes. But it could have easily become traumatic with one misstep, Darcie knew.

No. She would not go back to that place. Never.

Yet, Darcie couldn't help but recall seeing the Portkey in her purse when she returned home that night.

How the Portkey had found its way into her purse? Darcie did not know.

But she felt ashamed enough to not tell Daphne or Dobby about it.

If she was cursed with this legacy, Darcie dared not let her friends, perhaps her only friends, get corrupted by it as well.

There was one more thought that was bubbling in her mind.

The history of wizardkind wasn't well-documented, but it was short and encompassed their short numbers thoroughly enough.

So, it wasn't hard for Darcie to summarize the number of Parselmouths throughout the ages.

And Ekrizdis wasn't one of them.

Or perhaps he was, Darcie wondered. None just knew about it, I guess.

Just what kind of horrible mystery and hideous truth was afoot here?

The question troubled Darcie no lesser than the thought of visiting those ruins again.

Daphne and Dobby would never let her being a Parselmouth slip out, Darcie knew.

But it couldn't change the fact that the Portkey had responded to Parseltongue, making whoever had sealed it also a Parselmouth.

Darcie felt like she was treading on treacherous grounds and she found herself extremely ill-equipped to pry into the mysteries of the ruins or the Portkey.

"Darcie." Sir Arthur Conan Doyle approached her, gliding and smoking his ghostly pipe.

"Are you ready?" he asked, puffing out rings of smoke. "Today we will learn…"

"Arthur," Darcie cut in, "may I ask you something about Avalon?"

Sir Arthur was taken aback, his thick mustache stirring in response.

Never had Darcie postponed a lesson before, especially for anything unrelated to her studies.

Even Mr. Waite's ghost, who was reading his ghostly book, snapped his head up.

He shut the book and glided toward the window where Sir Arthur and Darcie were.

Since the beginning of Darcie's training, Madam Villanelle had been staying with her in this apartment.

But the older witch was still the Assistant Manager of Flourish and Blotts Booksellers, making her attend to her duties from morning to evening.

This left Darcie under the care of the two ghosts, the Chiefs of the two Circles of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

"Well, sure," Sir Arthur said, snapping out of his listlessness. "Of course, it should be something within my authority."

Mr. Waite nodded, smiling.

"Are the stories about King Arthur and Avalon true?" Darcie asked, her poisonous-green eyes sparkling. "Is he truly buried on the mythical island?"

Sir Arthur and Mr. Waite shared a glance.

"Why not ask this to Madam Villanelle?" the author of Sherlock Holmes asked. "Surely she can answer this better than us?"

Darcie frowned.

"I did," she sighed. "It might be just my imagination, but Madam Villanelle seemed to me oddly avoiding the topic. I wonder if I should address a letter to Sage Merlin. They did say that I can write to them…"

It was then Darcie's eyes fell upon the ghosts' expressions.

The corner of Sir Arthur's and Mr. Waite's mouths were twitching, despite their mustaches' dutiful attempts to hide it.

"What is it?" Darcie asked, pouting. "Arthur, Waite, you two are making fun of me again, aren't you?"

"Ahem!" Sir Arthur cleared his throat.

"It's understandable for you to write to the Six, Darcie," he told her, a rare smile lingering on his lips. "But I heard Sage Merlin… went into hibernation for 10 years."

"What?!" Darcie blurted, shocked. "What happened?"

This truly stunned the young Malfoy.

On the new year, she had visited Avalon, meeting the Six.

Her entire life had changed because of those events.

Only some five months had passed since then, but Sage Merlin had already entered hibernation? Darcie could find no genuine explanation for this shocking news.

"We are not aware of the entire matter, too," Mr. Waite responded. "But it's not as shocking as you are thinking, dear.

"The Six aren't truly alive, see. Their age surpasses our common reasoning capabilities. A decade of hibernation is not that unusual for them."

"Oh!" Darcie exclaimed, understanding the situation. "Then what's the reason for those twitches, huh? Don't think I didn't notice them."

Mr. Waite ruefully smiled, reaching out to pinch Darcie's cheek. "That's your little Darcie Holmes right there, Arthur," he jested.

Darcie felt an icy feeling entering her cheek, but she desired an explanation more.

"Actually, Madam Villanelle and Sage Merlin's relationship is destined to remain… odd," Sir Arthur commented, smoking the pipe.

***************

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