WARNINGS: THIS IS GOING TO BE A VERY DARK AND TWISTED STORY WITH SEXUAL EXPLICIT CONTENT AND OTHER DISTURBING THINGS. IF YOU DON'T LIKE CRAZY, THEN TAKE THE DOOR AND LEAVE.
CHAPTER 1
As a result of genetic inheritance, the Purebloods thought themselves as superior in terms of genetic make-up, with their Pureblood DNA encoded with the S human genome that made most of them a prodigy; people with sophisticated inherited capacity that allowed them to acquire an astonishing amount of skill-sets in their repertoire that would normally take years of experience to master, but the purebloods could do in a short span of time.
Likewise, individuals belonging to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or descendants from the Old Blood line, had a vaster and ready-made mental hard drive if compared to individuals with diluted blood.
They were programmed for any areas of expertise that they set their minds to - whether it be music, art, mathematics or other fields that interest them - they could easily excel in all of them as manifested through prodigious skills.
This was the main reason most of Pureblood Families and their allies had further entrenched itself into the society, earning a higher place in the social spectrum while casting aside business competitions and possible intellectual threats that sometimes came up from normal people they called… muggles.
….
Potter Highland Estate
September 20, 2331
"What are you making James?" Fleamont Potter asked his six-year old son, peering over James' shoulder.
James looked up and smiled at his father, "I'm making something from a dream I had Dad."
Fleamont squatted down to look more closely at what James' was working on.
It looked like James had been molding a clay to form a small head.
Fleamont chuckled at his son, wondering if this was his son's way in silently telling him that he wanted a younger sibling.
"Do you want a baby brother son?"
James frowned. "No, what gave you that idea Dad?"
"From what you are molding."
"Oh," James turned back to the clay and started kneading it with his hand, carefully forming a face.
"No, not a brother Dad… perhaps a little sister with brown eyes?"
Fleamont Potter merely laughed.
…..
Euphemia watched as James worked on the graffiti on his bedroom walls.
The graffiti, painting, charcoal drawing, wooden carvings, ice sculptures and even holographic images that James had created from his holopad were always the same.
Every art works he created was the image of a child that neither she, or her husband, and most certainly James, hadn't seen in real life.
…..
"Who is the child James?"
"She's from a dream I had... Isn't she cute?" James said to her. "Can we look for her Mom? I want to meet her…"
"We don't know her son…maybe she doesn't even live in England."
"Even if she lives far Mom. I want to meet her…"
"Someday James…perhaps someday you will, when she's older…She looks like she's barely a month old..."
….
"Something is wrong with James, Flea…" Euphemia said worriedly, "He has been creating those artworks since last week, and hasn't stop ever since. It's consuming him. He hardly eats and sleeps. He's been moulding, drawing, painting, carving, and even digital painting the same thing, again and again, as if he's trying to capture her and make her real..."
"It's normal with his age, Euphie. It must be a burst of artistic inspiration." Fleamont tried to assure his wife, but deep down, James' sudden onset of furor poeticus was alarming.
He heard that Pureblood children, and even half-bloods, showed their prodigious artistic talent between the age of four and ten, but James' unexpected creativity was caused by a dream, and had lasted for nearly two weeks, with James' looking more and more hollow-eyed and pale.
"Don't worry, Euphie. I think he'll soon finish what he wanted to accomplish."
….
James' furor poeticus lasted for another week. His condition had gotten worst. They had no choice but to send him to see the Alucinari; a special psychologist for the purebloods.
"It's called the Muse Syndrome." The Alucinari explained. "It's a rare but not unheard of. It has occurred before and with the same symptoms as your son is having. First the dreams, followed by motivation to create, or the onset of furor poeticus, and then the burst of creative output, whether it is through writing epic poetry, dance, music, hymn, but in your son's case, artistic creation."
"I see…" Fleamont Potter said.
"But why has he been trying to create artworks of a child? A child that my son had only dreamt of?" Euphemia asked.
"Because the child is his muse." The Alucinari informed.
Both Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged a glance.
"His muse?"
"Yes, your son's muse who must have been born recently. It is what prompted your son's prolong artistic frenzy."
There was a moment of silence as both Fleamont and Euphemia looked at their son sitting down beside them.
James' hadn't looked up from his holotab throughout the entire conversation. He seemed to have a world of his own as he started creating a pixelated image of his muse projected from the glass on his hand.
"How long will this – this Muse Syndrome last? What must be done to stop it?" Euphemia turned back to the Alucinari with a worried look. "My son no longer responds to social cues now. All he does is finish his artworks."
"There's nothing we can do to stop it, but some of the symptoms can be treated. Usually, the Muse Syndrome last for about two weeks before the furor poeticus tapered off. However, since your son have lasted for nearly three weeks. He might need medication to stimulate his appetite and help him sleep. I take it that he hasn't been doing either of those?"
"He eats few spoonsful before heading to his room. We try to convince him to eat more but he doesn't seem to hear us. He's like one of those automatons created from the Nott's Robotics." Fleamont said in concern.
"And he only sleeps when he grows tired." Euphemia added.
"Yes, the loss of appetite and insomnia is normal when being…controlled by the divine winds." The Alucinari said, "I'll give you the medications to help him…although he still needs to be carefully monitored…"
The Alucinari regarded them both briefly before saying, "If you notice him acting strange, or something odd happening around him, I want you to call this number."
Euphemia watched as the Alucinari projected a number from his holophone.
Almost at once, both Fleamont and Euphemia Potter paled when they saw the number.
"Why call them?…" Fleamont whispered in fear, "Why would they want to know what's happening to my son?"
"I think you already know the answer to that, Mr. Potter." The Alucinari stated. "Do you recall the Pureblood Mythos?"
Euphemia answered before her husband could, "But – but those are Myths... I don't think James is capable of even creating one."
"But some Myths are based on truths, Mrs. Potter," the Alucinari interrupted. "I suggest that you heed my advice. This is only the beginning…remember the past, remember that we can't let another one walk this earth..."
"My son wouldn't…." Fleamont said, shaken at the possibility, putting a hand on James' shoulder, who remained oblivious to what was happening around him. "He wouldn't dare make one…He doesn't even have the…spark."
"The truth, Mr. Potter, is that children have more power than even us Adults when it comes to unleashing their imagination… and all the more so if they came from the pureblood line."
…
As soon as the Potters left, he made his call.
"There's another one…" He said, looking at the five figures standing around him in holographic projections.
The Council of Merlin.
"How many children are now affected?" asked one figure to his left.
"Now, there's nine of them. Fleamont Potter had just brought his son today. James Potter, six years old, he has been manifesting as well. His is through artworks."
"Is it from the same…muse?"
"Yes,"
There was a momentary paused.
"Have you asked them to monitor their son?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
"Nine for the nine Theïkós Moúses," one of the figures murmured.
"Who do you think has the high chance of creating one?"
"James Potter, and Merope Gaunt's son, Tom Riddle Jr." He told them, "The latter have the same manifestation as the Potter boy. The rest of the children have potentially non-harmful manifestations."
"Regardless, the other children must be kept under surveillance."
"And if the burst of inspiration continues to manifest, then we'll have to bring the children in. We can't let this continue or we'll have one walking amongst us once more."
….
"Have you discovered the name of their muse?"
"Yes, her name is Hermione Granger, born on September 19, 2331 at exactly 3:33 A.M to muggles."
"It's approximately the same time when the children started seeing visions."
"Do you think it's a coincidence? That her parents named her Hermione?"
"No….it's not a coincidence. I suspect that the girl's parents had been influenced as well… In some way, her name is a warning to us. It's warning that another is close to entering our world."
Silence filled the dimly-lit room where the five figures continued their meeting.
"What shall we do with the children's muse?"
"As of now… nothing. However, there are might be individuals out there who will take this opportunity to target the pureblood children. Individuals that are known, or hidden enemy, to either the Potters, Riddles, Malfoys, Blacks, or the Chairman of the National Security Council. If someone moves in to kill her, it will drive the pureblood children into insanity…and we mustn't let that happen."
"I agree. We must protect our own. We mustn't let the girl come to harm or we lose a good portion of child prodigies from the pureblood line."
"Send people to protect the muggleborn girl. Station some agents around the place where the girl lives and keep them there until the danger has come to past."
The shadowy figures nodded their heads.
"How about the children? Especially Fleamont Potter's son and Merope's son?"
"Both the children's parents are already made aware of the danger their sons are facing. They will contact us as soon as they notice something is wrong, but in the meantime... we wait and watch…"
Another lapse of silence followed.
"Are there other things that we might need to discuss, gentlemen?" the head of the council broke the silence.
Some of the figures shook their head, saying: "No," or "Everything has been settled."
"Well…If there is nothing else, then I call this council meeting adjourned." The head of the council said.
"Remember to keep your eyes and ears open in the next few days. We might receive a call from any of the families that are affected. Be on high alert. We can't afford to be taken off guard, lest we'll soon find ourselves fighting a war that we can't win."
….
Three days later….
Potter Highland Estate
Euphemia felt a prickling at the back of her neck, a six sense telling her that she was being watched.
She turned and saw the marble carving that James' had displayed in the pedestal in the gallery.
She stared at it.
She didn't know if it was her imagination, but she felt like she saw the marble carving of the child moved its arm slightly.
…
Fleamont Potter was at his own work office on the third floor of the manor, when heard the sound of giggling.
He looked up from the glass table where he was using a live simulation to predict the outcome of his next experiments. Just as he lifted his head, he caught sight of a shadow skittering away from the open doorway.
He could hear the soft pitter-patter of running feet and the giggling that followed.
Fleamont was certain that hadn't been James who had crept outside his office.
…..
Euphemia walked towards her son's bedroom.
"What game do you want to play next?" She heard James' asked someone.
She frowned, pausing at the door to listen carefully.
"Chess."
There was a sudden spike of fear that raced up Euphemia's spine when she heard the voice of another child; a girl's voice.
Hastily, she stepped closer to sliding door, which automatically opened for her after detecting her movement.
James was just rising up from the floor when she looked inside.
No one was there except James and one of his creation; a wooden puppet doll that James' had assembled in a matter of six hours.
James saw her and smiled, saying. "Hi, mom."
"Who were you talking to, James?" She asked, scanning the room.
"Oh,"
Euphemia saw James' glanced at the doll on the floor. Her eyes went back to it.
The doll was sitting upright, but unmoving.
"No one, mom." James said after a second. "I was talking to myself."
"But I heard a voice." Euphemia remarked, her frown deepening. "It was voice of a child. A girl."
"Ah," James said, suddenly scooping low to pick up the doll. "I've place a voice box into her. So you must have heard her voice."
"Oh…." Euphemia peered closely at it, getting unnerved at the pair of brown eyes, that were almost life-like, staring back at her.
"What did you name her?" she asked, glancing at her son.
"Her name is Mione."
"That's an odd name, James. Wherever did you get it from?"
"It's short for Hermione, mom." James said. "From Shakespeare's work, one of the Pureblood Mythos, The Winter's Tale."
Her... Euphemia felt her throat tightened in fear, goose flesh erupted on her arms at the name James' had chosen.
The Queen Hermione.
She should have known to trust her instinct.
That the name had been a warning.
A warning that another one was close to entering their world.
…
"I swear it Fleamont! James' marble carving was here not a moment ago!" Euphemia hissed at her husband, her heart racing while her hands grew cold and clammy in fright when she clamped them on her husband's arm.
"It was here!"
"What are you trying to say, Euphie? That James' creation has move on its own?"
After saying those words out loud, they both froze, suddenly realizing what they've been trying to deny for the last few days.
Their eyes skittered around the room, alarmed.
"Should we call the Council?" Fleamont whispered, her lips barely moving, afraid that one of James' creation could be spying on them.
"I don't know Flea…if we do, what do you think they are going to do to our son?"
"I am not sure….but he needs help, Euphie….and the council must be informed, or it will be beyond our control if we don't act now."
"Let's call them tomorrow, Flea…not now…" Euphemia pleaded. "Let us spend time with our son…before the council takes him away."
However, Fleamont could see a different glint in Euphie's eyes, telling him to play along. Fleamont dipped his head, acknowledging his wife's silent words.
"Alright, Euphie…we will spend time with James before we call the council."
In truth, they would call the council as soon as they were safe from prying eyes and ears.
….
For the rest of the day, Fleamont and Euphemia stayed with James, watching him as their son lost himself in creating yet another piece of art; this time it was a vase etched with faces of James' personal muse.
The two were very careful in relaying coded messages to each other as they formulate a plan, pressing and tapping fingers on their shoulders, their back and their arms disguised as an affectionate gesture.
Put the security system on code 0 for an immediate locked down once there is an attack.
We should have the automatons primed as well. Either one of us must sneak into the control room and encode the commands. And hope that James' manifestation hasn't learned to hack our Holo system interface…
Yes, and Euphie…I know you don't like the thought of putting our son under heavy medication, but increasing the dosage on James sleeping meds is necessary to stop him from interfering with our plans.
I know, Flea…and I will be the one to do it. I'll put the meds on his food during dinner.
Just remember to do it quick. From here on out, we must always act under the presumption that we are being watched. We mustn't rouse any suspicion no matter what. And in the worst case scenario, we have to use the E.L.F robot. It's the only best option we have to get James out of the estate fast, and hopefully without alerting his manifestation. I will set the robot to evacuate James from the estate once our son has fallen asleep. Meanwhile, you find a way to call the Council as soon as we are on the clear.
Ok…and what about us? Shall we leave too?
No, our son created those things… they are our responsibility now. We will have to hold the manifestations within our property, until the Council has sent people to assist us…. We will help in destroying each one of the manifestations. So tonight we will have to be armed and ready.
…..
They were glad that they did because they were suddenly under attacked in the middle of the night when they were trying to pretend to asleep.
A consecutive BOOOOM! BOOOM! BOOM! sounds were the only warning they got as the explosions shook the manor.
At once, the couple shot up from the bed and went racing for the door. They hastily pressed the button on their armbands to activate their armors. It solidified into existence with a chink-chink-chink sounds as it assembled to cover every inch of their body; an armor that Fleamont helped create at Rosier's Weapon Testing Facility.
The two paused at the closed sliding doors to their room with their chosen weapons in hand. Fleamont Potter was holding Godric's retractable sword while Euphemia was using an Avtomat Kalashnikova 100. It was a small but powerful assault rifle and loaded with bullet grenades.
Beneath his helm, Fleamont received a data transmission from the E.L.F robot, informing him that James had been safely taken away from the estate. He could see the green pinging dot as the robot moved rapidly away from there.
Now, there was nothing holding them back from going all out when confronting James' manifestations.
They could now hear the ceaseless gunfire below.
The automatons had started fighting. They felt another slight quake as something detonated from the part of the manor.
Both Fleamont and Euphemia shared a brief look through their opaque visor.
Be careful, was what they silently told each other right before they unlocked their door and set off down the hall.
…..
In another home, the Riddle family were forced to find shelter inside the safety bunker created for emergency situation, where a car awaited for them. It was a black Lamborghini Legion powered by a V40 liter engine and with the maximum speed of 500 mph. An ideal car for a swift evacuation. Merope and her husband had placed their son inside as soon as the hatch slid shut.
Merope stood beside her husband, assessing the situation and calculating her next move. There was blood trickling down from a cut on Merope's cheek. She was growing pale and breathing hard. Her left arm was a mangled mess and hanged limply by her side, muscles and skin shredded, holes bore through most of it where the bullets from the Golgomath had gone straight through.
The only reason Merope was still standing was she had given herself a shot of morphine to block her pain receptors and used another shot to slow down the bleeding. The essence of ditanny would be useless in this situation, not when there were still metal shrapnels and glass embedded within her arm.
Merope wanted to cut her useless arm off so that it wouldn't hinder her movements, even if it means that she'll have to pay a visit to the Nott's Robotics to turn her arm into a droid, like she had done with her synthetic eyes.
Outside, she could hear the unending RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT from the Golgomath that her husband had been working on, which her son's manifestation was currently controlling now.
The machine sprayed out countless bullets in second at once. Merope could see spider web crack appearing on the bulletproof glass of the safety bunker.
Her hand tensed over the Dragoon Rennault gun on her hand; a gift from her husband.
"Take our son and go, Tom." She said to her husband, checking her gun if the power source was still in good condition. "I will provide the distraction."
"Merope…" She heard her husband say, sounding pained, already knowing what she was about to do. "Come with us, we can escape together with our son. We can –"
"I SAID GO, TOM!" She yelled, readying herself, the gun in her hand already emitting a hum as it began charging to full power.
"You already know that I can't just leave, Tom! Someone has to stay behind and give the machine something to focus on while I wait for the council! This will allow you and our son to escape. So hurry and go! Or we will all end up getting blitzed by the Golgomath! Look around you! The glass house won't hold us for long!"
"NO! I can't leave you behind!" Tom said, blue eyes blazing. "What will our son think of me when he wakes up?! That I left you here?! Our son will hate me if I let you do this!"
"There is no other way, Tom! Do you understand?! I'm a pureblood! A prodigy! I have to stay and keep the manifestations here or they'll find a way to escape and follow after our son. You know this! Just let me see this to the end!"
Merope saw a muscle leaping on her husband's jaw.
She reached out and touched her husband's face and said to him softly, "You must let me do this, Tom…you must…"
She saw the war raging in her husband's eyes, his frustration, his desire to protect her and their son, his love, before finally, his eyes darkened to that of acceptance.
"I love you…" He said, suddenly grabbing her and kissing her on the lips, pouring everything he felt in that one kiss.
She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes at his words. Swallowing the lump in her throat that, she kissed him in equal amount of desperation. Her right one arm was useless by her side, so she used her good arm - which was still holding the gun - to pull him close and kiss him properly on the mouth.
Even if she had stopped using the amortentia perfume on her husband, she was uncertain if Tom was in love with her on his own, or the perfume that she had created had lasted longer.
When it was time to let out for air, her husband ended their kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in.
"I love you." She heard him repeat, as if once was not enough. "You know that right?"
"I know and I love you too." She murmured, staring into her husband's eyes, silent tears trailing down her cheeks while her lips trembled.
She closed her eyes for second, before saying, "Now, go!"
And with one last peck on her forehead, Merope watched as her husband raced towards the opposite direction, towards the armoured vehicle where they had placed their unconscious son inside.
Merope turned, struggling not let out a strangled sob when she heard the slam of the car scissored door. She felt like an invisible hand was squeezing tightly around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until she could hardly –
She needed to get a hold of herself. Emotions would simply distract her.
The grip she had on her gun tightened, trying to focus on what she planned to do.
There was no time for crying.
This was the time to save her family.
A moment later, she heard her husband turned the engine of the car. It was immediately followed by the sounds of its heavy purring.
VRROOOMM – VRROOOOMM– VROOOOOOOMMM
Not a moment too soon, she smelt an acrid smoke, which told Merope that her husband had geared the vehicle to top speed with the intent to get out of there fast.
"Mer.."
Merope heard the voice of her husband saying from the speaker of the car.
"I'll come back for you…so don't you dare die on me." He said.
She couldn't exactly see him, but she imagined her husband sitting on the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes staring straight ahead while he continued to press his foot on the gas pedal, revving the engine, where she could hear its loud purring that nearly drowned the sounds of the sailing bullets that tried to puncture through the bulletproof glass around them.
"I'm a pureblood, Tom. I came from a generation of prodigies. I won't die so easily…"
After saying them, she knew for the lie it was.
Merope wasn't going to survive that encounter if no one from the council arrived there on time.
She was going to die, and her husband seemed to struggle trying to reconcile with the fact.
Denial was a bitter pill to swallow.
"Still...be careful."
"I will…"
She heard the sound of the car changed. It was now letting off a low hum, indicating that it had reached maximum speed, ready to take off.
"Blast the ceiling for me, darling," Her husband requested in a low voice.
Without another second to waste, Merope swung her gun up and aimed it towards the glass ceiling and pulled the trigger.
BOOOOOOM!
She felt the powerful blast, the scorching heat, and the sharp recoil that nearly brought Merope to her knees, and the blinding light as the dragon's breath incinerated a hole through the safety bunker, a hole big enough to fit two cars.
There was a gust of wind as her husband wheeled the armored car to shoot up towards the open space that she had provided.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
PING-PING-PING-PING-PING
Merope inwardly cursed as she heard the bullets ricocheting from the armored Lamborghini when the Golgomath tried to shoot it down.
With her heart racing and adrenaline pumping in her veins, she charged the gun once more, activating her synthetic eyes to use the basilisk; her drone that she had asked to sneak behind the enemy line and target down the number of manifestations there.
Her drone was still too far from the target. It had been silently killing the manifestation as it closed on the ones that were controlling the Giant machine. Merope had wanted to wait longer for it to go near but they didn't have the time.
Merope's synthetic violet eyes pulsed and saw vague shapes from the drone's transmission, of what she presumed must be the manifestations.
Too far.
The only thing she could do was used a disruptor. It would be enough to buy her husband time to leave, but it would also mean giving away her drone's position.
"Give them a dose of your killer eyes, Bas." She ordered.
Through her eyes, she watched as the basilisk drone sent a strong surge of electrical current outwards. Merope hoped it was enough to temporarily paralyzed the manifestations.
Instantly, the sounds of ricocheting bullets stopped. Merope looked up at once when she felt the wind stirred around her, whipping her hair. Worry gnawed her gut at the sight when she noticed the dents, and holes, that littered the armoured Lamborghini.
Merope hoped that the bullets didn't penetrate through the strong armour and hit both her husband and son.
In silence, she watched the car hover there for a few heart-thumping seconds, as if her husband was still hesitating to leave her behind.
Her drone's electrical surges could kill normal living targets, but if faced by her son's manifestations, it could only petrify for even less than half a minute.
She didn't have that time.
Her husband need to leave with their son. NOW.
"GO!" Merope shouted. The vehicle shot towards the skies, and was gone, leaving her alone to deal with what her son had created.
She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding.
As soon as her drone's deadly electrical surges ran off its course. The manifestations destroyed her basilisk drone in their fury, their rage after they saw the car, carrying her son, flying away.
Then, they turned their attention towards her and started shooting.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT
Around her, the bulletproof glass house started to crack, no longer able to withstand more than a thousand round shelling from the machine Golgomath.
Not waiting for the glass house to shatter around her, Merope knelt down on one knee, raised her gun at shoulder level, and started calibrating, her eyes turning a light shade of lilac as she used her infrared vision to find her target.
She was going to use the sniper mode on her Dragoon Rennault gun, increasing its piercing intensity to puncture a hole right through the ballistic glass, stone marble and metal to destroy the manifestation.
The power surge that her drone produced, and the image transmission, had provided her a good estimation where she might need to aim her gun.
She will have to trust her instinct and her eyes to shoot the manifestations one by one.
Locked and Loaded
Merope narrowed her eyes, let out a breath and squeeze the trigger; once, twice, three times while swiftly moving and aiming her gun to the indistinguishable shapes that her eyes could see from her scooping vision.
She miscalculated.
The glass house had been thoroughly weakened after being subjected to the machine's relentless attack.
And as soon as her bullets pierced a hole straight through the glass, everything around her shattered.
Shards of glass rained down on her, leaving her at the mercy of the Golgomath.
….
"We weren't able to get to the Riddle's residence on time. Merope Gaunt, age 28, a descendant from both the Peverell and Slytherin line, was the first casualty. She died after getting blitzed by the Golgomath that was being controlled by the manifestation."
"When we arrived at the scene, there was nothing left of her." Another agent reported, "The body was shredded to pieces, her flesh and bone fragments scattered. We suspected that the manifestation had used the Thousand Rounds Mist to kill her at once."
….
"Merope Riddle came from the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt, and the descendant from both the Peverell and the Slytherin line." One of the shadowy figure began, "The Pureblood Society will surely mourn her death…"
"We will need to send our condolences to her muggle husband and heir once we are certain that most of the manifestations are destroyed."
"Our men are still tracking the manifestations down as we speak. We are fortunate that the Potters and Riddles have taken an extra measure to activate their security system to confine the things within their lands. It will be easier for our troops to scour the area and destroy every one of them."
"But how about the child? Merope's son?"
"Ah, him…" Another said and relayed his report. "Tom Riddle Jr, age 8, has been contained at WOOL's sanatorium at the moment. He's been sleeping but his dreams are…troubling. There's been a spike of brain activity in his right hemisphere and he's been experiencing seizure every thirty minutes. If given a pen, he exhibited signs of psychography - or automatic writing - as well as automatic drawing. It's still with the same muse, Hermione Granger."
"And of the Potters? What's their status?"
"Both Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had been critically wounded when our men arrived at their house. However, they are being treated in the ICU. I had sent someone to watch over them, and I've been informed that their conditions have stabilize but placed under heavy medication. We won't be able to hear the exact details about what had transpired during the confrontation under the circumstance."
"And their son?"
"James Potter has been delivered to WOOL's Sanatorium as well," said another figure. "With the same condition as Merope's son. A seizure in every fifteen minutes after a spike of brain activity in the right hemisphere. Automatic writing and drawing…and he's been murmuring the name of his muse. Hermione."
There was a short paused as the figures looked from one to another.
"Their muse, the muggleborn girl? Had there been any reports regarding her?"
"The people that we had stationed near the place had reported nothing unusual with the Granger family, even when the manifestations had begun attacking the Potters and the Riddles. Their personal muse, Hermione Jean Granger, currently around one month old, appeared to be a normal child."
"What about the rest of the affected families? Have they encountered the same manifestations?"
"As predicted from a non-harmful manifestation, the rest of the children have not created anything that might be considered a threat," a woman said, "Nonetheless, their furor poeticus seemed to have gain in strength as of late."
Another joined in to divulge some information.
"The parents have informed us that the children had fallen under a trance-like state while the Riddle and Potter family had been under attack. The Malfoy twins, Abraxas and Lucius, both age 8, Abraxas had written an epic poetry during the trance - of what I assume - about what was happening. In his writing tablet, he mentioned Merope's heroic act to save her son and husband, the fury of the manifestation when both the father and son had escaped, as well as its triumphant glee at Merope's death. The other twin, Lucius, his manifestation is through dance, where he had interpreted the fight through complex battle forms. The youngest brother, Draco Malfoy, age 4, played the flute and sang what he called the Battle at the Potters."
"Sirius Black, age 6." Another figure continued on, "-his manifestation is tragedy, the domain of Melpomene. His parents saw him using a sword, and have unconsciously done Fleamont's infamous Gryffindor sword strike. I believe the boy was mimicking Fleamont Potter, who had been fighting using Godric's sword during the attack. Meanwhile, the younger brother, Regulus Black, five years old, his manifestation is through Hymns, under the domain of Polyhymnia. His works mentioned about Merope Riddle's passing."
"The son of Eileen Snape nee Prince and the Chairman of the National Security Council - Severus Snape, age 7 – wrote a love poetry, the love between Merope and her husband, Tom Riddle Sr."
"Remus Lupin, age 6 - the same one who had been abducted by the Biorobotechno Engineer, Fenrir Greyback, and injected by the Lycanthropy virus – his manifestation is through astronomy, he's been charting and reimagining the fight through the stars. He was seen using an old compass."
"And the last child who had just been reported," someone added, "His name is Peter Pettigrew, age 6, and his manifestation is through comedy."
Many raced their brows.
"As odd as it may sound in such tragic circumstances, but yes, Peter's parents had informed us that their son had shown signs of Thalia's manifestation. He was seen using a comic mask to recreate the battle in comedic form."
"Eight of the Nine Theïkós Moúses have been invoked, that could only mean one thing…"
There was a tensed silence that followed.
"We must stop another one from completely taking form," said the head of the Council. "Samples that were taken from the destroyed manifestations, which had killed Merope Riddle, were around 5% metaformed, our analysis experts had discovered. Just imagine if it had been 100%, for certain the damage and casualty would have been far greater…"
"This has all began with the birth of muggleborn girl," the woman from before remarked, "The children's personal muse. She had been the trigger that might have cause many deaths to our kind."
"What are you implying, Lady Rowle?"
"Why not put the girl to sleep? It might bring peace to the minds of the affected pureblood children."
"I have already discussed this with the other Council members, and we have all agreed that we can't take the risk. The Draught of the Living Death can be fatal to a child barely around one month old. It would have driven the pureblood children to insanity if we put their muse to sleep, especially while the boys are still experiencing furor poeticus."
"Is that even possible? To have the same personal muse, alongside nine other children?" someone asked from the gathering of thirteen.
"The Muse syndrome is a rare condition. Not many know how it truly works. The only facts that we know are from historical accounts, and those are even far and between. Sharing the same muse with others might be possible, albeit unusual."
"And given that one is trying to step into our world, we can deduce that by invoking the Theïkós Moúses, it had plan to accelerate its metamorphosis."
"Even when the other children's manifestations remain non-threatening for now." Someone said amongst the thirteen figures. "We can't turn a blind eye at the possibility that it might change. The children might start manifesting in the same manner as James Potter and Tom Riddle Jr."
"Yes, I agree with Chancellor Shacklebolt." The Head of the Council said, "We need to bring the other children to the WOOL's Sanatorium and send a team of Alucinarist and other specialist who will find a way to suppress the children's creative output, redirect their brain activity to the left hemisphere, and have the children focus on harnessing their logical reasoning - science, mathematics and the like. This will stop them from using their creativity and imagination to create something that might be very well bring about the end of our world…."
Unknown Location
WOOL's Sanatorium
Sirius Black
Age: 6
Date of Birth: November 3, 2324
Diagnosis: Severe case of Muse Syndrome.
Personal Muse: Hermione Granger (6 wks old)
Manifestations: Tragedy
Guided by the Theïkós Moúsa: Melpomene
*notes: The subject was seen wielding a sword during the trance.
Family members
Father: Orion Black
Mother: Walburga Black
Sibling: Regulus Black
The Alucinari read the brief profile of the child lying on the surgical bed in front of him. Sirius Black would be the first to be injected with the medication that his team had recently developed to suppress the creative side of the brain, and then afterwards they would have to Re-wire his mental activity to the left hemisphere.
Like the other parents, both Orion and Walburga Black had given their permission for this operation. (Not like they had a choice on the matter.) The Council of Merlin was involved, and of course, the Council's word was law.
Around him, the rest of the medical team was waiting for him to say the word. The child was already prep and already injected with anesthesia.
"Let's begin." He said to those that gathered.
o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
One after the other, the Alucinaris altered the children's mind…until finally, the memories, dreams and their capacity to imagine and create, were repress, forcing them to forget their ingrain artistic talents, and the newborn girl that started it all…their personal muse..
Hermione Granger.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Information Mentioned in the story:
Alucinari - means wander or wander in mind.
Furor Poeticus - means poetic madness, divine frenzy (instead of accidental magic, its called furor poeticus; a burst of artistic prodigious talent. Normally, pureblood children exhibit this between the age of three to ten and usually cease after three days to one week.)
Divine Winds - inspiration came from the Gods or Divine Muses
Spark - the ability to breathe life into their artwork.
Muse - can refer in general to a person who inspires an artist, writer, or musician. (wikipedia)
Personal Muse - one specific person destined to inspire one pureblood prodigy to excel in any areas and contributing to their many successes.
Muse Syndrome - usually starts with a vision/dream of their personal muse recently born into the world, followed by other symptoms, such as prolong furor poeticus that last for more than a month, insomnia, loss of appetite, insatiable urge to create, persistent dreams/visions, Petit Mal seizures, hallucinations, automatic writing/drawing and other symptoms that haven't been reported. (I'm making this up.)
Manifestations - creative output or artistic creations as a result during a long period of furor poeticus. The manifestations are about individual's personal muse or anything that are related to them.
Re-wired - means that the brain's activity are controlled/altered to concentrate on just one hemisphere of the brain. In the children's case, the left hemisphere.
Metaformed - other word for transformed, transfigured, converted (the combination of metamorphosis and transformation)
The Council of Merlin - composed of five members who governed the Pureblood Society in the shadows. They are created to ensure that the Pureblood's ancient history remains a secret. (Order of Merlin in HP canon)
E.L.F - Evacuation - Life Insurance - Fight/Flight robot.
Merope's Basilisk - reconnaissance drone, designed with stealth and equipped with electrical power surges to either stun, electrocute, or immobilize (petrify) targets and disrupt radio frequency, magnetic fields, electricity, and lastly, it can kill. It is controlled by Merope through the small chip embedded in her temporal lobe, her synthetic violet eyes which can turn to either a infrared scope, freshnel imager, x-ray optics, spotting scope, submillimetre telescope, Ultraviolet scope. She can also accept live visual transmission from the basilisk drone, allowing her to see her target in a variety of ways.
Pureblood Mythos - works from renown writers, poets, artists, prodigies/geniuses from the pasts, like William Wordsworth, William Shakespeare - or going further back - such as Homer, Aristophanes, Aristotle, Ovid and others.
Theïkós Moúses - means Divine Muses (plural)
Theïkós Moúsa - means Divine Muse (singular)
Apollon Mousagetēs - means Apollo Muse-leader (directs most of the muses)
In Greek Mythology, there are Nine Muses and they are:
1. Name: Calliope
Domain: Epic Poetry
Emblem: Writing
*notes: Abraxas Malfoy's manifestation*
2. Name: Euterpe
Domain: Music, Song, Lyric poetry
Emblem: Flute (Aulos)
*notes: Draco Malfoy's manifestation*
3. Name: Erato
Domain: Love Poetry
Emblem: Lyre (Cithara)
*notes: Severus Snape's Manifestation*
4.Name: Melpomene
Domain: Tragedy
Emblem: Tragic mask, Sword
*notes: Sirius Black's manifestation*
5.Name: Polyhymnia
Domain: Hymns
Emblem: Veil, Grapes (often seen with a pensive expression)
*notes: Regulus Black's manifestation
6.Name: Terpsichore
Domain: Dance
Emblem: Lyre, Plectrum
*notes: Lucius Malfoy's manifestation
7.Name: Thalia
Domain: Comedy
Emblem: Comic Mask
*notes: Peter Pettigrew's manifestation
8.Name: Urania
Domain: Astronomy
Emblem: Globe and Compass
*notes: Remus Lupin's manifestation
9. Name: Clio
Domain: History
Emblem: Scrolls, Books, Cornet, Laurel wreath
*notes: Identity unknown; the wildcard
-(sources - wikipedia)
Queen Hermione is the character from Shakespeare's work 'The Winter's Tale'. At the end of the story, her statue came alive. Hermione is also a female name derived from the Greek Messenger God Hermes. (In this story, her name is used as a warning, a message to the Purebloods that one is close to entering their world.) Hermes is considered a god of transitions and boundaries. He is described as quick and cunning, moving freely between the worlds of the mortal and divine. He is also portrayed as an emissary and messenger of the gods; an intercessor between mortals and the divine, and conductor of souls into the afterlife. He has been viewed as the protector and patron of herdsmen, thieves, oratory and wit, literature and poetry, athletics and sports, invention and trade, roads, boundaries and travelers. (Wikipedia)
Automatic Writing or psychography - an alleged psychic ability allowing a person to produce written words without consciously writing. The words are claimed to arise from a subconscious, spiritual or supernatural source. (wikipedia)
Automatic Drawing - the drawing produced may be attributed in part to the subconscious and may reveal something of the psyche, which would otherwise be repressed. (wikipedia)
The Right Hemisphere of the Brain - main functions: Art awareness, creativity, imagination, intuition, insight, holistic thought, music awareness, 3-D forms, left-hand control. (brainmadesimple)
The Left Hemisphere of the Brain - main functions: Analytical thought, logic, language, reasoning, science and math, written, number skills, right-hand control. (brainmadesimple)
...
Naming of some characters:
Remus Lupin's Parents
Father: Roman Quirinus Lupin - from the name Romulus, who was the founder and the first ruler of Rome, and had a twin brother named Remus. Quirinus for when Romulus became a God after his death. (wikipedia)
Mother: Hersilia Lupin nee Hora - from the name of Romulus' wife, Hersilia as described by both Livy and Plutarch, while Hora came from Ovid's Metamorpheses, when she was deified (like her husband) after her death and named as the Goddess Hora. "...now mate to Quirinus." (wikipedia)
...
Abraxas, Lucius and Draco's parents
Father: Septimus Malfoy- an ancestor from the Malfoy line. (HP canon name)
Mother: Julia Domna Malfoy née Rosier - from the name Julia Domna, the wife of the 21st Roman Emperor - Septimius Severus - who ruled during the time of the Year of the Five Emperors. Julia Domna was famous for her prodigious learning as well as her extraordinary political influence. (wikipedia)
...
Peter Pettigrew's parents
Father: Alexandre Yersen Pettigrew - from the name of the french biologist, Alexandre Yersen, who discovered the germ that cause the Black Death, now known as the plague, is spread by a bacillus called Yersina pestis. (history)
Mother: Bubony Pettigrew née Loimos (Deceased) - the name Bubony comes from the word Bubonic plague, derived from the Greek word βουβών, meaning "groin". This is one of the three types of infection caused by the Yesinia Pestis. Meanwhile, Loimos means Pestilence, or pest in greek.