Firstly, Happy Maundy Thursday, everybody!
Well. Here we go, then - Talents Chapter 3. I hope you all enjoy!
I'm not totally happy with this chapter... Something seems to be - missing from it. I don't know what, exactly... it just didn't seem to flow very well. (shrugs) That's my reading of it, anyway. Feel free to tell me what you think, though! Since I wrote it a while back, and have been tweaking the damn thing for about three months, I figured it was about time to post it.
I'm sorry this has been such a long time coming, and it's entirely possible that the next chapter will take an equally long time... I tend to prioritise my stories, and this one just doesn't come that far up the list. Still, I hope you alllike it!
A couple of peopleon the very interesting boards said that they don't feel Harry Potter/Alex Rider crossovers can work... I see their points, but I'd be interested to know what people think, of the concept in general, not just this story. Anyone else got any thoughts on the matter?
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and Alex Rider are mine. Suckers! You all fell for that 'J.K. Rowling' and 'Anthony Horowitz' nonsense! They're mine, mine, mine!
...because I'm totally not an English schoolgirl too immersed in revision to write anything more profound than a shopping list. Nooooo...
Alex woke that morning to streaming sunlight – it was, after all, early in the summer holidays – and nearly fell out of bed in his eagerness to start going through the books he and Ian had bought yesterday. Aside from all the school books he needed – the syllabus had obviously changed since Helen went to Hogwarts, since the great proportion of the books had changed as well – Ian had agreed that he needed books such as 'An Introduction to Wizarding Customs', and various others, on history and standard customs. Ian himself had even bought a few books from there, saying, rather gruffly, that it was only natural that he should learn about his nephew's world.
For a second, he deliberated over how he was supposed to go about this; all the things he needed for school were piled up around the room in brown-paper-wrapped parcels, and old-fashioned bags, his new trunk was outside his door on the landing – to Alex's complete shock, Ian had agreed to get him a trunk with a magically-secret compartment, on the basis that 'sometimes it's useful to be able to keep secrets' – and his mother's two trunks were still in his room. There was no way he could fit all of this into his room; it was large, but not huge, and it was already crowded with his mother's trunks. Alex paused, then fell to his knees in front of Helen's old school trunk, opening it, and methodically sorting through what was inside, as Ian had taught him.
He set aside the uniform – it was the girls uniform in any case, old white shirts, and the school skirts and girls jumpers and robes, no use to Alex at all – and started on the rest of it. The wand he kept out, slipping it into a drawer in his bedside table, sparing a brief moment to wonder why his mother had decided to leave it behind when she went on holiday with his father, when their plane exploded. Surely it would have been useful?
Shrugging off that thought, he went back to the trunk. Helen had obviously put all of her school things in here, and most of it was boring, or something he already had – a half used up Potions Kit, for example. Noticing that most of the ingredients were more interesting and exciting than the ones in his own, he debated whether or not to take them 'just in case', but then reasoned that they were probably too old and stale to be of any use. Helen's scales, her telescope, and all the other standard issue implements were returned to her trunk – but there were some other, more interesting things.
One such item was what looked like an hour glass, in which blurry and indistinct figures seemed to be moving – what fascinated Alex was the way it seemed to balance on the finest point, unmoving, a faint murmuring hum coming from it which both fascinated and worried him. Setting it aside for further research – after all, he had no idea what it was – he delved back into the trunk.
His mother had left in her school trunk a fascinating little jewellery box, made out of some dark wood, with a gold clasp keeping it shut; for ages, Alex couldn't manage to open it. At last, in desperation, remembering the way he had had to give blood to be able to access his accounts at Gringotts, he pricked his finger, and squeezed a little blood onto the clasp. It glowed for a second, the entire box warming in his palm, before clicking open.
Inside, was a mess of gold and silver chains – nothing very exciting, Alex noted, sifting through them, but fun nonetheless. One necklace had the pendant of an 'H' on it; another was a charm bracelet, with a little broomstick, an owl, a witch's hat, and a cauldron on it. One chain – the longest – had a little hourglass shape on it; another held a small mirror, and another long silver chain had a tiny box-pendant, which, when Alex opened it, and peered inside, fascinated by the idea of a box as jewellery, was enormous on the inside. Tentatively, he poked at it, and was slightly shocked to find that he could fit his whole hand inside the tiny opening.
Magic, it seemed, could do anything.
He set aside the little jewellery box, unsure of what he should, or could, do with it, and deciding to leave it at home for the moment, rather than take it to school with him. Jewellery was for girls, after all, and there was no point leaving himself open to be teased right from the beginning.
Alex was about to go on searching through his mother's trunk when Ian opened the door to his room.
Offering his nephew a quick smile, he said, rather tersely, "You've got a visitor."
Frowning, Alex stood. "Who?"
Ian shrugged. "I think they want to introduce themselves to you."
Alex frowned a little more deeply, but shrugged, heading downstairs to the sitting room which was where Ian said the mysterious 'visitor' was waiting for him.
The man who met his eyes was tall and dressed in a plain black suit, with a white shirt and a high collar, over which he wore what looked like an old-fashioned teachers gown. He had a long walking stick in one hand, and held a black cape – not unlike Alex's own school cloak – over the other arm.
"You must be Alexander." He said, quietly. "I'm Samuel."
Alex looked up at him, eyes wide, and not a little confused. "Um – yes." He said, slowly. "I'm Alex." He paused. "Do I know you? Should I know you?"
The man – Samuel – offered him a cold smile. "I'm your uncle. Your mother's brother."
"Oh!" Alex nodded, quickly. "Ian mentioned you."
"'Ian'?" Samuel raised an indolent eyebrow at the younger man, leaning in the doorway, watching him carefully. "Not 'Uncle Ian'?"
"He doesn't like it." Alex shrugged, calmly. "So I just call him Ian."
"You can call me Uncle Samuel if you would prefer." Samuel didn't look particularly thrilled by the idea, but the fact he made the offer nonetheless made Ian relax minutely.
He very nearly smiled at Alex's response.
"Do I have to?" he asked, rather unwillingly. "I don't know you, you see." He added, quickly, aware that he might have been rude. "It wouldn't make sense."
Samuel's smile was a little warmer this time. "It would be much more sensible for you to call me simply 'Samuel', I agree. I'm glad to see you have a grasp of practicalities."
"Thank you." Alex said, a little doubtfully.
"May I have a seat, please?" Samuel glanced once again at Ian, who inclined his head. "We need to talk seriously, Alexander."
"My name is Alex." The boy said, firmly.
"Your name is Alexander, and I will call you such." Samuel said, equally firmly. "Names are important, Alexander, and you will never make an impression with such a common name as 'Alex'."
"I'm not trying to make an impression on you, though." Alex shrugged. "You're family, I don't need to."
"Family values are a useful thing," Samuel agreed, repressively, "But it is as well to get accustomed to what you will be being called by Wizarding society."
Alex frowned again. "I don't understand; why would Wizarding society be important to me?"
"I have no children," once again, Ian noted the brief spasm of almost-regret which passed over the dark man's face. "And I do not intend to have any. As such, you are my heir, and the Mortimers play a part in Wizarding society which you will have to fill."
"And I have to be called Alexander to fill that role?"
"You will understand when you have a better grasp of our world." Samuel said, coolly, which was apparently as near as he got to sympathetic. "To further that end, I have engaged a tutor to teach you the basics of etiquette and such. Provided Ian has no objections, you will come to my house for two hours every day for the next fortnight, from eleven until one; you will have lessons with the tutor until then, and lunch with me so that we can," his lip curled ever so slightly, "'get to know each other'."
Ian struggled to hide his smile. "I've got no objections." He said, calmly, "So long as Alex is happy with that. And if he complains about you…"
"Yes, the agreement his over, I understand." Samuel shrugged, and stood. When Alex stayed seated, he cleared his throat, meaningfully. "When an elder stands, you also get up." He said, fake-gently, a clear bite in his tone. Alex shot to his feet. "I can see we're going to have to start with the real basics." The man sighed. "But you will work hard; in two weeks, the Solstice festivals will start. I expect to be able to introduce you as my heir to the important families, and if you shame our family in any way, you will not be pleased with the consequences."
Alex nodded, face flushing. "Um, Samuel?"
A slight, barely covered, wince. "Yes?"
"Will I be Alexander Mortimer, or Rider?"
"Mortimer, of course." He glanced, slightly mockingly, at Ian. "Rider is a surname without history and without respect. As my heir, you have my name in our world."
"Not at Hogwarts, though." Alex pointed out, reasonably, as he saw it.
"That's because Albus Dumbledore is a progressive moron who is intent on ruining decent Wizarding society." Samuel said, bluntly. "But your tutor will fill you in on proper pureblood ideas." He delved in his pocket, and produced a handkerchief. "Hold this at eleven tomorrow morning; it will bring you to my house." Alex nodded, and was about to reply, when his new and worrying uncle disappeared.
He glanced back at Ian, who shrugged, and said, surprisingly apologetically, "Sorry, Alex; I agreed because – it will be useful if you can fit in at these things. You never know when you're going to need to, and Samuel could be useful to you, don't you think?"
Alex looked up at his uncle, suddenly and whole-heartedly appreciating the way Ian had brought him up. He might often have been absent, slightly distant, a little cold, maybe – but he had never made him feel as small in the past ten years as Samuel Mortimer had made him feel in the last half an hour. Ian's expression was almost – nervous – and it was something Alex had never seen on his guardian's calm, unruffled face before. Swallowing, and taking a deep breath, he said, as firmly as he could manage, "It's a way of learning about this place, right? So – it's bound to be useful."
Alex spent the rest of that day sorting through his mother's trunks, sorting out what he wanted to take with him to Hogwarts, and what he wanted to leave behind; then he helped Ian put the trunks back up in the attic, and started packing his own.
The books he kept out, starting on the most basic, and beginning to read, fascinated by the idea of a society based entirely on witches, wizards, and magical creatures. Ian, watching from the sidelines, careful not to be too obvious, only hoped that Samuel didn't ruin this for their nephew.
Alex was bubbling with energy, thoroughly excited about all the new things he'd learnt, by the time he thumped down the stairs for dinner. Jack grinned at him, and Ian even managed a quick smile, his nephew's own enthusiasm almost infectious.
"Ian, guess what?" Alex asked, practically bouncing in his seat as he spoke.
"What?" Ian said, his long-suffering tone offset by the slight smile still hovering around the corners of his mouth.
"I can do magic!"
One eyebrow raised slightly. "Well, yes, I thought you knew that already…"
"Not really, not like really knowing." Alex pointed out, with the inimitable logic of an eleven year old boy. "I mean, I knew I was going to be able to, but I didn't really know…" he grinned, widely, as Jack passed him the potatoes. "I did a spell, all by myself."
Ian paused for half a second, reflecting, rather despairingly, at how magic had become a common place topic at the dinner table, then nodded. "Oh? Which spell?"
Alex's eyes were bright with excitement, his grin even wider than before. "It's this spell I found in one of my books, it's called 'Lumos', it makes light…"
"Go on, then." Jack told him, with a grin. "Show us!" She met Ian's slightly disapproving glance with a shrug and a grin.
Sighing, Ian realised that Alex's eyes were fixed on his face, waiting for his assent. "Oh, alright. Just the once, alright, Alex?"
He nodded, solemnly, but couldn't quite wipe the remnants of the smile off his face. "I've got my wand here." He informed them, fishing it out of one pocket, and holding it out at arms length over the potatoes. Ian carefully moved them – and the glasses, salt and pepper, and vase of flowers – out of the way, in case anything went wrong. Alex, intent on his spellwork, didn't notice.
He frowned at his wand slightly, gripping it tightly, before saying, forcefully, "Lumos!"
The light his wand produced was a little half-hearted, a little weak, but it was a definite light nonetheless. Jack clapped; Ian nodded his approval.
"Nice one." Jack grinned at him, and Alex beamed, looking at Ian to see his reaction.
"Well done." He told him, rather gravely. "Now, supper?"
Alex, already putting his wand away Ian noted approvingly, simply nodded.
That night, Ian allowed himself the rare luxury of a very large glass of red wine, after both Jack and Alex had gone to bed. It was a good, smooth vintage, he noted absently, remembering the lessons their father had given him and John on wine when they were in their mid-teens.
"If you have to drink yourself stupid, I want to make sure you don't waste a perfectly good bottle of wine to do it." He had told them, half-sternly, and they had dutifully listened, learnt and inwardly digested the lessons he had given them.
John had never quite picked it up, he remembered with a smile, taking another sip of wine. But he hadn't seemed to mind; they'd had fun, and that had been enough for him, then.
Things had changed later – after he'd married Helen, after Alex had come along. Everything had been darker, nothing was as simple. Well, he'd joined MI6 by then, had been working for them for years, and they were neither of them sixteen year olds. Everything was more serious, of course it was… but John had had two worlds to worry about, his wife's world and his own, with the rising threat of Scorpia, and the re-emergence of that same frigidity between Russia and the UK which had characterised the very early stages of the Cold War. Alex had been their sole preoccupation then… and Ian was fast losing him to a world he neither understood nor trusted; a world his sister-in-law had deliberately given up to keep her son safe.
Hopefully, Samuel Mortimer would be able to give Alex some guidance where Ian couldn't; but he didn't hold out much hope. The best he could do was make sure that Alex didn't go too badly astray, and hope for the best.
The next day at five to eleven precisely, Samuel 'cracked' into the sitting room where Alex was waiting, Ian having headed to work at seven thirty, as he always did. Jack had asked Alex, rather reluctantly, if he really wanted someone with him, and Alex, seeing that, though Jack was probably just about OK with him performing magic, the idea of meeting a 'real live wizard' was not one she found appealing, had told her that he would be fine.
Faced with this new uncle's set expression and black robes, he wasn't entirely sure that was the case.
"Alex." Samuel nodded at him, and held out a hand, which Alex took, rather reluctantly. "I trust you're well?"
"Yes, thank you." Alex nodded, politely, eyes flickering from his uncle's face to the wand the man was still holding, business-like, between long, elegant fingers. "And you?"
"Very well, thank you." he nodded, and flicked the wand, muttering something under his breath.
Alex got the sudden, uncomfortable impression of being squeezed and spun through a very tight tube, before they slid out the other side with a pop, and Samuel's hand steadied him, preventing an otherwise inevitable fall.
"You will have to work on that." Samuel told him rather sternly, but Alex simply nodded, too engrossed in taking in his surroundings to mind about the distinctly unimpressed tone of his uncle's voice.
The room was light, despite the dark, highly polished wooden floor and wall panelling. The windows were enormous, with huge blue curtains pulled back and artistically tied, like something out of the period dramas Jack was so fond of. A fire place – empty at the moment, but generously proportioned all the same – stood opposite the door, marble and finely carved; the room held three separate bookshelves, a desk, and several thick patterned rugs which were carefully positioned to make sure that the sun didn't decolour the wooden floor.
"This was my late wife's study." Samuel told him, emotionlessly. "Since she has no further use for it, you may use it as your own."
"What was her name?" Alex asked, quietly.
"Callisto." He told him, face still totally emotionless. "She died three years ago. Now, I assume you would like to be shown round?"
Alex paused before agreeing, remembering Ian's advice on not rushing into things. "Yes, please." He said, finally. "If it's not too much trouble."
Samuel smiled, almost approvingly. "At least your basic manners won't need too much work." He nodded, then checked his watch. "Your tutor will be arriving at twelve today – normally your lessons will last for the full two hour. You have eleven years of work to catch up on – too much to manage before the Solstice, sadly, but you will not cause our family to lose face, do you understand? It's bad enough that my heir is a Muggle-raised Half-Blood, without your behaviour letting us down."
Alex nodded, a little cowed. "Yes, sir." He followed Samuel out of the room in silence, and only found the courage to speak up after nearly a minute of silence. "So – will I get to learn magic in my lessons?" he asked, in a small voice.
Samuel treated him to a sharp look. "Do you want to learn magic?" he asked.
Alex looked up at him. "Yes." He said, fervently. "Please."
His uncle considered it for a few moments. "Then I suppose we could probably work something out." He nodded. "So long as your tutor tells me that you're coming along well."
The tour Alex got of the house was sufficiently impressive; though not palatial, Ian's house in Chelsea could easily have fitted inside it several times over.
"The Mortimers have lived here since the mid-1600s." Samuel told him, explaining the history of the various parts of his house. "Parts of the Master Suites date back to 1664, and the foundations of the East Wing were laid in 1670. This was the first house in England to hold one of Molière's plays, in November 1670." At that point, Samuel paused, saying, almost wistfully, "We were a greater house then, of course; rivals to the Malfoys, even – which explains the house, of course." He shook himself. "But no matter. Some of us are meant to rise, and others not; we do what we can."
The rest of the house was equally impressive. The West Wing had partially burnt down in the 'Dark Years', as Samuel was careful to call them, but it was slowly being rebuilt, and the grounds were amazing. It was literally like something out of one of the Pride and Prejudice films Jack was so fond of watching; stylised, ornamental gardens, with hedges and flowers in elaborate patterns, and a huge, ornamental lake at the end of a fastidiously smooth lawn, overlooked by the large, brooding house, with it's huge, watchful windows.
Looking up at the house, Alex couldn't help but dread the day he inherited all this; and Samuel, with all his strange references and obscure history, wasn't helping at all.
"You have to be careful of the grindylows," he said, perfectly casually, when Alex commented on the lake, "But the fishing's quite good." When Alex had mentioned how clean everything was, he was told that the 'house elves' looked after it; when he talked politely about the décor, some obscure Wizarding decorator was referenced. Copies of The Daily Prophet were in every room, the portraits – "dating back to our ancestor, the first important Mortimer, Henry. But of course, like any decent family, we can trace our lineage back to one of the Founders" – moved and waved at him, or looked down their noses at him, and Alex would have sworn that he felt someone watching him everywhere he went in the house.
Finally, it was twelve o'clock, and he was ushered back into the study which was apparently his – though he wasn't sure he entirely liked the idea of using a dead woman's study.
A tall, rather shabby man stood there, possibly slightly younger than Ian, and at least a decade younger than Samuel. "Mr. Mortimer?"
Samuel inclined his head the slightest fraction, eyes running over his employee's clothes, his face set into cold lines. "Yes. Mr. Remus Lupin?"
He nodded with a smile. "And you must be Alex." The amber-brown eyes were warm on his face, and Alex returned the smile fully, relieved to find someone who seemed at least half-way normal in what increasingly appeared to be a weird and confusing world.
"Alexander." Mortimer corrected him, coolly. "Please remember to call him by his proper name." He looked at Alex, and nodded to him. "I will return in an hour. Mr. Lupin, Alexander." He left without any further pleasantries.
For a long moment, Alex and Remus Lupin eyed each other, before Alex broke the silence, clearing his throat rather nervously, and said, quietly,
"Please call me Alex."
Lupin offered him a tiny smile. "If you want. We'd better be sure that your uncle doesn't hear, though."
"Yes."
"So – how much do you know about Wizarding Society?" Lupin asked, heading to one of the large winged armchairs by the windows, and pulling a large, heavy-looking text book out of his bag.
Alex followed him, perching a little awkwardly on the other chair. "I know that there're Light families and Dark families, and that about a decade ago, there was a Civil War of some kind…?"
Lupin nodded, interestedly. "Anything else?"
"Well, I did some reading, yesterday, and it said that most of that Dark guy's followers got off – because of some curse which made them do whatever he said?" he frowned slightly, "But… how could he possibly hold it on so many people at one time?"
Lupin, who had smiled a little when Alex had talked about the 'Dark guy', gave him a tired look. "He couldn't. But he had followers who would have been willing to hold it on them for him; it was a terrifying time, Alex, and you'll find out about it soon enough. I'm just here to teach you about Pureblood customs, and suchlike. History is out of the question for the moment." Alex nodded, a little reluctantly, and Lupin smiled again, though it looked a little forced. "On which note, never, ever call the Dark Lord 'that Dark guy' in public. It's You-Know-Who, or don't mention him at all…"
When Alex got back to Chelsea, at three, his head was swimming. Lupin had left at one, with a smile, and the promise that he would bring Alex a book he could read on Solstice celebrations the next day. Lunch with Samuel had been by far the most trying part of the day, as Samuel had corrected his manners all the way through, ordering him 'not to slouch', and 'not to slurp', or to 'cut his food properly', not lean his elbows on the table, keep his elbows in when he ate, use his napkin properly… the list was apparently endless.
After that, however, came the part of the day which was most interesting – the promised magic lessons. Samuel had run through what he called the 'basic spells', Lumos, a basic Levitation Charm, a child's version of the Summoning Charm, with a severely limited radius, but useful nonetheless. By the time he got home, he had learned a grand total of five spells, and was feeling much better for it.
Ian was tired that night, and Alex had long since learnt not to press anything for fear of upsetting the man, but he did give Ian a shortened version of how his day had gone when the man asked, getting the usual 'fine – nothing interesting', in return for his own question on his uncle's day.
Despite the strangeness of it all, despite the way Samuel acted towards him, and despite the worries which seemed to hang heavier on him when he was in 'the Wizarding world' – he was looking forward to tomorrow.
Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Send me a line?
C'mon, reviewers get Easter Eggs. I've upgraded from cookies.
-amitai