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Chapter 3: Beautifully mad, My Dear

March 6, 1987

Zeebruuge, Belgium

It had taken months of travel, exhausting, endless traveling, accompanied by The-Man-Who-Doesn't-Know-Who-The-Bloody-Hell-He-Is, as Tom had taken to calling him, in his head of course. He wasn't particular of being beaten with his own limbs, as he had quickly found was the preferred method of punishment employed by said man.

They had /walked/ from Albania to Belgium, an endless trek by anyone's reckoning, because /Rudolph Hoss,/ as he was calling himself today, had insisted something ranging between 'good' and 'astounding, bedazzling, and otherwise stupefying' would happen if they did. Tom was, beyond his ability to verbalize, infuriated and terrified of the psychotic he traveled with. The things he said, on a whole, were mind numbing in the complexities and meaninglessness.

So they found themselves In the Port city of Zeebruuge, their mother country, Britain, only a short ferry ride away. Tom was so relieved by this he felt he might lift from the ground and float way. "Oh dear, looks like we will spending another few hours in dear sweet Belgium..." The psycho's voice was, for once, somewhat solemn, despite the strange mosh of French and Norwegian accents he was effecting today. The sound was infuriating, but what really caught the Dark Lord was the statement. Here they were, one short-distance apparition away from home, and this- this- this madman wanted them to stay here /longer/!

"What do you/MEAN/ longer! I can see Britain from /here!/" Tom shouted in exasperation. He could surely apparate himself there, but he was no fool to think that Rudolph wouldn't find and punish him for 'impertinence'. A long, bone-white finger pointed into the bay, where a ship was leaving port. "The ferry has already depar-" He cut himself off, his eyes going wide before closing, then a terrifyingly malicious, manic grin cut a crossed his face like a knife.

"It's happening, /it's happening!/" His voice was a cut between shrieking and giggling that Tom hadn't heard yet, and that grated horribly on his ears. Then an iron-hard hand gripped his arm, as though to remove and beat him with, and Tom cringed, tensing up. In an instant, he felt the strangest feeling of being pulled backwards through time, accompanied by the all-encompassing pressure of apparition. If asked he could describe or explain what had happened, only that one moment he had been on dry land, and in the moment before that one, he appeared on the deck of the ferry.

"Ooohhhhh, I feel it, /I feel it!" Came Rudolph's giddy shriek of what could only be joy. After turning and vomiting the contents of his stomach on the deck of the ferry, Tom demanded, "What, /what are you so excited for?/" He managed before retching again. The Scientist's voice dropped an icy octave and he flatly stated, "Quiet your sniveling and you'd hear it for yourself." That voice sent shivers down Toms back, and he did as commanded.

At that very moment, the ferry shuddered, and the shriek of tearing metal could be heard from below. In an instant, the manic giddiness had returned and Rudolph had plucked his wand from his ear. The wand spun briefly between his fingers, then pointed down, a painfully bright red beam emitting from it as it traced a circle around its wielder. When the circle was completed, the line of melted steel it had traced gave, and the Scientist dropped through the deck of the ship, into the cargo hold.

Tom grimaced, but dropped through the hole after him. The fall was further than he had thought, coaxing him to thrash a bit and sprawl on landing. There was already a foot of water in the hold, pouring in through the gaping hole in the hull where the freight door used to be. There were dead and dying gasping and bobbing back and forth in the bloodied water, and at the head, still actively at work, an old crone of a woman, with as many wrinkles and gray hairs as Dumbledore himself.

Instead of patroni and those awful lemon candies, she was slinging out Avada kedavras and flame whips. Rudolph was frozen, motionless on the hood of a car, eyes wide in what Tom could only guess was awe. As he watched, the witch AKd a woman, then a moment later threw out a whip of a black, ichorus substance that wrapped around the victim, then constricted. Not much could both sicken and simultaneously fascinate Tom, but when the whip passed through the woman and was ripped from her, holding an intangible substance vaguely humanoid in shape, he was both.

The crone of a woman examined the soul she had stolen, then sneered and flicked her wand upward. The soul was smacked into the ceiling of the hold, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, /it/ happened, the soul seemed to combust, exploding as if a massive bomb. The ship was torn wide, exposing open air to the rapidly filling hold. Rudolph's whisper at this was almost inaudible over the shrieks of the injured and dying; "Mayhap I don't have to destroy the /whole/ world after all…"

The old woman had apparently expended too much energy with that soul shearing spell, and the magical exhaustion was clear on her face as she slumped back. In an instant, Rudolph was there, cradling her in his arms, "Rest, ma belle, belle chérie, rest, you did so wonderfully, please rest." He murmured into her ear, wrapping his arms tighter around her. He turned to the watching dark wizard, standing dumfounded on the other side of the hold, water up to his knees.

"Come Tom, it is time we leave this toy box for the muggles to clean up!" Rudolph's voice was a strange mixture of joyous giddiness and subdued somnolence that gave Tom a headache to listen to. Tom quickly sloshed over to the duo and took Rudolph's upper arm tightly, bracing for the unsettling feeling of the man's strange for of apparition. Then the psycho did something so outlandish and incomprehensible that Tom immediately blanked it from his mind, deciding to contemplate it later, or more likely, never.

He stuck out his tongue. He stuck out his tongue, /and five beams of energy shot from it./ The five beams spun briefly and the ship groaned, as though in pain, then the bow of the ship /sheared off into the waves./" Tom only saw this for the briefest of moments before that hooking, squeezing feeling crushed him once again and they were gone, leaving the ferry to ground on a shoal and over 200 people to bleed or drown to death.

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Faire Dubh Cùm

Cippyn, Cardigan, Wales

The crushing, pulling motion finally ended, the trio of travelers being deposited into the courtyard of an ancient obsidian keep, stone worn and scarred by the many centuries of its stand, but still proudly polished and maliciously gleaming in the high, midday sun. The scientist and his passenger landed gracefully on bended knee, Tom? In a heap of limbs on the hard stone beside him. The Dark Lord immediately began vomiting once more, not that there was anything to regurgitate, just bile and a clear fluid.

Without even sparing the man a glance, The Lord of the Castle immediately set off at a quick trot through the waiting door of the keep. The old woman in his arms was fairing only slightly better than Tom, in that she hadn't vomited, but she was close. Her head stayed on a swivel, taking in the surroundings passing by her with wonder. She didn't recognize this place specifically, but the banners and coat of arms on the many shields and armors, and hung from the many ceiling they passed under, proudly decried this keep as a holding of the Ancient and Most Noble House Black, her own family.

He head darted back around to stare intensely at the barer, scrutinizing his wizened figures with a critical eye. The high, elfin cheek bones of the Blacks, a very strong, square jaw, almost a perfect match to the Potters, large, slightly slanted eyes of the Blacks, the wide-spread heterochromia passed through the Black line, evident in his eyes and hair, although she couldn't identify the verdant viridian of his one eye, she hadn't seen that shade of green in a wizarding family since history class in Hogwarts.

Before she could comment, they passed through another doorway, into a very well appointed suite of rooms. She was gently deposited on the luscious silk topped bed, and the man withdrew another curiosity, his wand. White, undoubtedly of bone, 13 ½ inches, her sharp eyes called to her, and its point, and elongated, tri-bladed arrow point. The curious wand danced through the air above her, a vast array of spells in all colors of the spectrum pouring out of it and gently caressing her.

Then he spoke, his voice filled with gentleness, but tinged by the Black Madness, "Only mild magical exhaustion, thankfully. You shouldn't be casting such strenuous magic so consistently, young lady, you can damage your core like that!" He was playfully rebuking her, and she couldn't help the brief smile that she quickly fought into a scowl as she propped herself up with the pillows strewn a crossed the bed.

"And just who are you calling young lady and chastising, Mr. Black?" She demanded playfully, her own madness coming out to meet this new, heretofore unknown family member. That caused the man to freeze, his eyes widening fractionally as he stared back at her in mild shock. Tom chose that moment to shuffle in, but seeing the expressions on the two Black's faces, reversed the motion and quickly backed away, shutting the door as he passed it.

He wanted nothing to do with something that made that maniac look like that, valuable blackmail material or not. Back in the room, the man's expression faded into neutrality, his sanity seeming to blanket and smother the glimmering madness in him as full rationality descended and asserted itself. The woman took note of this and followed much the same, gulping as she contemplated how far she may have mistepped in her playful return. There were Blacks that hid their heritage, with very good reason, and that very much did /not/ appreciate the revelation of their true identities.

She bowed her head slightly to him, "My apologies, good sir, but your heritage is in your face, I had not thought that you were one of they who forsook our name." He stared at her very hard, and had she not complete and total certainty that her mental shields were not breached, she would have thought that his gaze were filled with legilimency probes. After a long moment, he finally spoke into the unnerving quiet.

"Not at all, Madame Black, it is merely that I have not been called by my birthright in a great many decades, and it was both startling and heartwarming, to be recognized once more by the Family once more. Shall we not introduce ourselves? That we might discontinue the abuse of our Family moniker and know each other on a more personal level?" He asked her, his speak rigidly formal, but inviting none the less.

"But of course, Dear Black, I am Cassiopeia Dorea, daughter of Cygnus Phineas and Violetta Bulstrode." She made as much of a formal bow as she could, propped up as she was on the pillows that supported her. The mad gleam returned to the man's eye for a moment, and a mischievous grin that was all Potter crooked his lip for just the fleetest moment before he spoke, "I am Velorum Orion, son of Jameson Charlus Potter and Bellatrix Dorea. It is a very great pleasure to meet you, Cassiopeia Dorea." He took her hand and bent over it to kiss it.

Cassiopeia took several long moments to think through this, her brains crunching through the family tree, begging for it to begin to make sense to her, which it did not. His mischievous grin had returned ten-fold and his head looked moments from splitting in half. And then it clicked and her face morphed into pure astonishment and awe. "You figured out how to travel through time!" She very nearly screamed it in her excitement.

His grin very nearly did split his head in two, and he nodded, then, as the door began to open and Tom's face appeared in the space, the words 'time traveler' on his lips, something happened. Velorum seemed to shift, without moving, his outline becoming blurry as his torso twisted around, wand at the ready. As though in reverse, Tom withdrew and the door shut, a hail of silencing and privacy spells hammering into the oaken door. His blurred form quickly righted itself and time seemed to return to normal.

Cassi was nearly bouncing up and down on the bed, excitement pouring out of her in near-tangible waves, "/You just manipulated time!/" Her shrieking voice very nearly pierced Velorum's ear drums, but he didn't mind, seeing so much energy restored to the woman was good. "I did in fact, and now, I'm going to do it again, after a fashion." He told her, his grin redoubling, having never left in the first place. Cassi froze, mid bounce, expectation written plainly on her face. "What will you be doing?" She asked/demanded.

"I'm going to restore you magic reserves." He told her, advancing on her and tucking his wand back behind his ear. From his pocket he withdrew something small, knobby and red, one of the most coveted items in bother the magical and mundane worlds. "Please hold still, my dear lady, this will very much hurt if you move." Without giving her a chance to question him further, he tossed the stone into the air and his hands flashed out, carving a flaming runic array into the air in a flash.

Even having devoted a solid decade to runic study, Cassi couldn't decipher any more than 'gateway' and 'return' from the array, and both those from such old and archaic rune alphabets that she was guessing for those. The falling stone caught in the center of the array and began to glow with an intense red energy, which then began to radiate in a beam unto the elderly woman, encompassing her whole body in a blinding red glow.

The glow remained for exactly forty-one seconds, then faded away, the philosopher's stone that had powered it crumbling away to dust. In the absence of the light, there lay, not an elderly woman of seventy one, but a beautiful young woman of thirty. Velorum licked his lips, and as Cassiopeia sat up, eyes wide in wonderment, alternating between eyeing up herself and staring and him, he closed his eyes and began to change as well.

His feature flowed like water, wrinkles smoothing out, flesh tightening, muscles firming with strength. His hair smoothed itself out of its frazzled, static shocked standing and laid smoothly between his shoulder blades and down his back. Its color deepened by the moment, the silvery gray and lavender being replaced by a lustrous jet black and a deep, sugilite purple. His last feature to change was his eyes. The bloody red orb in his left socket slowly faded into a startling lavender, and the verdant green deepened to a hard, biting emerald.

Taking a moment to stretch, a listening to the litany of bones clicking, clacking, popping, and cracking back into place, he finally turned his gaze to Cassi, his grin returning again as his eyes drank her in. "My my, quite the beautiful young lady you make, dearest Cassiopeia." He bowed deeply to her, his hair tumbling over his shoulders in a cascade of deep and dark colors. Cassi blushed deeply, but quickly turned it back on Velorum. "You cut quite the handsome figure yourself, Master Velorum." She replied with as much haughty flirtation as she could muster on such short notice.

"I realize, dearest, that you will want a great many answers, but first, let us set to dinner and feast, I am quite famished." Velorum declared.