Argh! Jez thought, and quick on the heels of the 'argh!' was a 'gah!' followed by something incomprehensible, and then a heartfelt 'fucking balls!'. Jez had packed for an extended wilderness hunt, one heavy on the monster side, but being physically prepared and being mentally prepared were two very different things. The Sorting Hat had been cryptic - if not outright, obfuscatingly vague - in its exposition, and now she was wrapped in the coils of a bloody great Typhon; a twelve-footer, easy. Typhons, who lived only in rural Greece (until now, apparently, and what the hell was that about?), were what SWORD agents referred to as 'a fucking bugger'.
"Though I expect nothing, I suggest that you tackle your monsters." Right. When Jez got into the castle, a certain magical milliner's creation was going to find himself in a washing machine on high spin.
This particular monster (which Jez Bain declined ownership of but had nevertheless nicknamed Hans) had the torso of a man ending in two tremendous snake tails, one of which had encircled her like a boa constrictor. It hissed, not unexpectedly, its white hair shining in the moonlight that glinted off his only two teeth: long, twin fangs. Because of course they were. Jez tried to remember, as her ribs began to groan, if those fangs were venomous. Yes, she concluded, because of course they were. The air in her lungs was being squeezed out, and her arms were pinned to her side in the crushing embrace. She could just about move her wand, though, so - unable to remember the advised method of Typhon disposal - she twitched her left hand and cast a scorching curse. Hans took it square in its humanlike chest and reared backwards, coils loosening. Jez immediately slithered free, her right hand going for the machete strapped to her thigh even as she hit the ground and rolled to the left, swiftly coming to her feet with a weapon in each hand. "'Come out to Hogwarts; we'll get together, have a few laughs,'" she muttered, wide eyes tracking the creature as it undulated back upright. Her back was exposed to anything that wanted to creep up on her in the mist, a fact that made her skin crawl like it was trying to shift around to the front.
She held still until the Typhon struck again; this time, she sidestepped almost casually while bringing the machete down on its beautifully coloured scales, distracting it enough to cast a textbook Petrificus Totalus! that restrained the snake parts. The man-part hissed and grabbed for her with sinuous arms, but she was already in motion again, a blur darting towards him, ducking beneath his reach and bringing the machete around in an arc that opened his throat. Blue Typhon blood filled the air and she got the hell out of the way on the basis that it was a toxic potion ingredient, thus unlikely to do wonders for her skin. The creature reared and then slowly, ponderously, sank to the grass.
Carefully avoiding the weakly thrashing tails - Typhons were quite magic resistant, otherwise she would have followed her usual method of 'fuck it, Avada Kedavra and move on' - Jez approached its head, hefting her machete purposefully. It gazed up at her as its unnaturally long fingers clutched at the gash in its throat. Perhaps it wanted mercy. It wasn't too late - in time, it would heal from even this grievous a wound. Jez squatted beside it, her face impassive as she returned its look, tilting her head curiously.
It took three blows to sever its head completely. "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker," she murmured absently while wiping her blade clean. Satisfied, she retrieved her backpack from the ambush site, glad that the mist around her was thinning. It would be easy to spot another incoming attack now. On the other hand, she had been hidden from who knew how many secret eyes and--
There was the castle, ghostly in the glow of the moon. The carcass of it, actually, lying there broken and defeated. Jez swallowed reflexively, as if to squash her response. It worked; she stepped over Hans' body and headed right for the ruins. She could feel those secret eyes on her. Others might have put it down to imagination and paranoia, but she had been at this for years; she knew when she was being watched. It was probably a pointless effort, but she walked with a stealthy step, hoping her khaki trousers and black leather jacket broke up her shape. It was a long walk with heavy gear, but her old army surplus boots were well-worn and she had carried much heavier kit much longer distances before.
Forcing herself to approach the Entrance Hall took a lot. She'd have faced down an army of Inferi with a smile if it meant not taking another step - but she stepped forward regardless. Moss and creepers had grown over the huge chunks of stone that were once walls. Lighting her wand, Jez focused fiercely on picking her way through. She was halfway there when a hole in the rubble caught her eye. It appeared to have been dug up; perhaps by a desperate young witch looking for a dead young wizard; perhaps all a desperate young witch had found was a jacket, the only evidence that a dead young wizard had died there; perhaps that was where a desperate young witch had been too late, would always and forever have been too late.
A noise ripped her attention away and grounded her in reality, at least a little. Ahead sat the grand hourglasses that had once measured house points. To Jez's infinite surprise, Hufflepuff House's hourglass was filling with a crystalline tinkle, a handful of iridescent, shining stones adding themselves as if it were an ordinary school day. Bewildered, she pressed on, giving the hourglasses a stern look as she passed to warn them to behave more reasonably in future. It took a minute to get to the Great Hall, where another shock lay in wait, because she had left reason back in England (as she so often did).
Candles, aged and yellowing, were floating above the professors' table in the centre of the hall, where it looked small and lonely. Food was laid out; a strange array that included seventeen whole roasted pumpkins and two pancakes. Another mystery; apparently God had mistaken her for a collector. Although she had sworn she would not do this, Jez spoke to the empty hall, grimly. "Hat? Did you do this?"
Whoever had, she didn't trust it. She had several days' worth of rations in her kit, and she would stick to those, even though it meant ignoring the smell of fresh, buttered pancakes.
"Though I expect nothing, I suggest that you tackle your monsters." Right. When Jez got into the castle, a certain magical milliner's creation was going to find himself in a washing machine on high spin.
This particular monster (which Jez Bain declined ownership of but had nevertheless nicknamed Hans) had the torso of a man ending in two tremendous snake tails, one of which had encircled her like a boa constrictor. It hissed, not unexpectedly, its white hair shining in the moonlight that glinted off his only two teeth: long, twin fangs. Because of course they were. Jez tried to remember, as her ribs began to groan, if those fangs were venomous. Yes, she concluded, because of course they were. The air in her lungs was being squeezed out, and her arms were pinned to her side in the crushing embrace. She could just about move her wand, though, so - unable to remember the advised method of Typhon disposal - she twitched her left hand and cast a scorching curse. Hans took it square in its humanlike chest and reared backwards, coils loosening. Jez immediately slithered free, her right hand going for the machete strapped to her thigh even as she hit the ground and rolled to the left, swiftly coming to her feet with a weapon in each hand. "'Come out to Hogwarts; we'll get together, have a few laughs,'" she muttered, wide eyes tracking the creature as it undulated back upright. Her back was exposed to anything that wanted to creep up on her in the mist, a fact that made her skin crawl like it was trying to shift around to the front.
She held still until the Typhon struck again; this time, she sidestepped almost casually while bringing the machete down on its beautifully coloured scales, distracting it enough to cast a textbook Petrificus Totalus! that restrained the snake parts. The man-part hissed and grabbed for her with sinuous arms, but she was already in motion again, a blur darting towards him, ducking beneath his reach and bringing the machete around in an arc that opened his throat. Blue Typhon blood filled the air and she got the hell out of the way on the basis that it was a toxic potion ingredient, thus unlikely to do wonders for her skin. The creature reared and then slowly, ponderously, sank to the grass.
Carefully avoiding the weakly thrashing tails - Typhons were quite magic resistant, otherwise she would have followed her usual method of 'fuck it, Avada Kedavra and move on' - Jez approached its head, hefting her machete purposefully. It gazed up at her as its unnaturally long fingers clutched at the gash in its throat. Perhaps it wanted mercy. It wasn't too late - in time, it would heal from even this grievous a wound. Jez squatted beside it, her face impassive as she returned its look, tilting her head curiously.
It took three blows to sever its head completely. "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker," she murmured absently while wiping her blade clean. Satisfied, she retrieved her backpack from the ambush site, glad that the mist around her was thinning. It would be easy to spot another incoming attack now. On the other hand, she had been hidden from who knew how many secret eyes and--
There was the castle, ghostly in the glow of the moon. The carcass of it, actually, lying there broken and defeated. Jez swallowed reflexively, as if to squash her response. It worked; she stepped over Hans' body and headed right for the ruins. She could feel those secret eyes on her. Others might have put it down to imagination and paranoia, but she had been at this for years; she knew when she was being watched. It was probably a pointless effort, but she walked with a stealthy step, hoping her khaki trousers and black leather jacket broke up her shape. It was a long walk with heavy gear, but her old army surplus boots were well-worn and she had carried much heavier kit much longer distances before.
Forcing herself to approach the Entrance Hall took a lot. She'd have faced down an army of Inferi with a smile if it meant not taking another step - but she stepped forward regardless. Moss and creepers had grown over the huge chunks of stone that were once walls. Lighting her wand, Jez focused fiercely on picking her way through. She was halfway there when a hole in the rubble caught her eye. It appeared to have been dug up; perhaps by a desperate young witch looking for a dead young wizard; perhaps all a desperate young witch had found was a jacket, the only evidence that a dead young wizard had died there; perhaps that was where a desperate young witch had been too late, would always and forever have been too late.
A noise ripped her attention away and grounded her in reality, at least a little. Ahead sat the grand hourglasses that had once measured house points. To Jez's infinite surprise, Hufflepuff House's hourglass was filling with a crystalline tinkle, a handful of iridescent, shining stones adding themselves as if it were an ordinary school day. Bewildered, she pressed on, giving the hourglasses a stern look as she passed to warn them to behave more reasonably in future. It took a minute to get to the Great Hall, where another shock lay in wait, because she had left reason back in England (as she so often did).
Candles, aged and yellowing, were floating above the professors' table in the centre of the hall, where it looked small and lonely. Food was laid out; a strange array that included seventeen whole roasted pumpkins and two pancakes. Another mystery; apparently God had mistaken her for a collector. Although she had sworn she would not do this, Jez spoke to the empty hall, grimly. "Hat? Did you do this?"
Whoever had, she didn't trust it. She had several days' worth of rations in her kit, and she would stick to those, even though it meant ignoring the smell of fresh, buttered pancakes.
