Sequel: Into the Pensieve: Of Blood and Snow ›
The Battle of Perfecto
One
Rain was pouring in buckets. Wind was blowing in every direction with the force of a horde of stampeding elephants. Lightning split the gray sky; thunder shook the ground. Baguio City was once again caught in the midst of a typhoon. Barely anyone was found out of doors, afraid of getting wet or meeting accidents brought by the storms. But then…
The University of Saint Louis - in particular, the Waldo Perfecto Building, was filled with people. Students were rushing up and down its steps, muttering words in a foreign tongue while brandishing sticks. Every time they spoke, globes of light erupted from the sticks they held and merged into the walls. The wall would glow for a second and look normal again.
The students were, of course, witches and wizards. They had taken advantage of the raging storm (or were perhaps responsible for it) in order to conduct magic in the building without their Muggle friends and classmates witnessing what they were up to. The words they spoke were spells, Protective Spells, to be exact. They were, in a way, preparing the building for something.
One wizard in particular stood in the terrace just outside the 7th floor bathrooms. Ignoring the strong winds that buffeted him from that height, he was looking up at the raging sky. His hands rested on the terrace’s red metal barriers, and his eyes heavenward. He, like his fellow wizards was waiting for something.
His eyes wandered downward, towards the parking lot of the 3rd Gate. It was wet, and littered with pine needles. For a moment, he toyed with the thought of what might happen if he destroyed the red metal barriers and simply…jumped off.
Then he saw something silvery-blue flash in the distance. It shimmered in and out of sight, like an image from a dream. The wizard knotted his brow in concern, this did not look good, he thought. When the shimmering thing was close enough, he was able to see that it was a small butterfly, silver and blue, and almost transparent. It did not seem at all bothered by the wind, despite its frail appearance. It flew straight and true to the wizard’s now outstretched hand.
When the butterfly landed on his palm, a girl’s voice spoke. She sounded weak, wounded, dying:
“They were here… destroyed everything…we failed, Don. He has the first… They’re coming to you next. Abandon the second piece. Flee. He has the first… no stopping him… Flee…”
At the last word the butterfly Patronus evanesced into nothing. The wizard, Don had no doubt that its caster was now dead. A frown had settled upon his face. Pulling out his wand (obsidian black, vine-wood eleven-inches with thestral hair as a core), he waved it and muttered:
“Expecto Patronum.”
An eagle-sized raven materialized before him; it was silver and blue, if one did not look close enough they might have confused it for a large dove or an albino eagle. The wizard pointed his wand towards the gray morning sky. The raven Patronus flapped its ethereal wings and flew out of the terrace and into the world.
The wizard then pointed his wand to his throat.
The University of Saint Louis - in particular, the Waldo Perfecto Building, was filled with people. Students were rushing up and down its steps, muttering words in a foreign tongue while brandishing sticks. Every time they spoke, globes of light erupted from the sticks they held and merged into the walls. The wall would glow for a second and look normal again.
The students were, of course, witches and wizards. They had taken advantage of the raging storm (or were perhaps responsible for it) in order to conduct magic in the building without their Muggle friends and classmates witnessing what they were up to. The words they spoke were spells, Protective Spells, to be exact. They were, in a way, preparing the building for something.
One wizard in particular stood in the terrace just outside the 7th floor bathrooms. Ignoring the strong winds that buffeted him from that height, he was looking up at the raging sky. His hands rested on the terrace’s red metal barriers, and his eyes heavenward. He, like his fellow wizards was waiting for something.
His eyes wandered downward, towards the parking lot of the 3rd Gate. It was wet, and littered with pine needles. For a moment, he toyed with the thought of what might happen if he destroyed the red metal barriers and simply…jumped off.
Then he saw something silvery-blue flash in the distance. It shimmered in and out of sight, like an image from a dream. The wizard knotted his brow in concern, this did not look good, he thought. When the shimmering thing was close enough, he was able to see that it was a small butterfly, silver and blue, and almost transparent. It did not seem at all bothered by the wind, despite its frail appearance. It flew straight and true to the wizard’s now outstretched hand.
When the butterfly landed on his palm, a girl’s voice spoke. She sounded weak, wounded, dying:
“They were here… destroyed everything…we failed, Don. He has the first… They’re coming to you next. Abandon the second piece. Flee. He has the first… no stopping him… Flee…”
At the last word the butterfly Patronus evanesced into nothing. The wizard, Don had no doubt that its caster was now dead. A frown had settled upon his face. Pulling out his wand (obsidian black, vine-wood eleven-inches with thestral hair as a core), he waved it and muttered:
“Expecto Patronum.”
An eagle-sized raven materialized before him; it was silver and blue, if one did not look close enough they might have confused it for a large dove or an albino eagle. The wizard pointed his wand towards the gray morning sky. The raven Patronus flapped its ethereal wings and flew out of the terrace and into the world.
The wizard then pointed his wand to his throat.