Harry Potter : Chapter 58: Snowflakes III

"Do you know why avalanches are unpredictable, Tom?" I chose to use his given name to annoy him more than anything else, and before he could reply, I answered my own question.

"Because nobody can ever know which snowflake will be the one to tip the scales."

...

After a second that stretched heavily between us, a second during which Riddle undoubtedly understood perfectly where I was getting at, Minerva returned from her inspection of the marvel that was the main entrance of the Rùnda: "What is this?"

Her eyes peered curiously from my left at the open pages of Tom's journal, which hosted a sequence of extremely precise drawings in black ink of a multitude of objects: a chair, a stack of bound notes, an unlit torch, and so on.

With a soft, practiced smile that hid the tension between us with enviable ease, Tom took a step back and touched with his wand one of the drawings: with a brief arch of his length of yew and phoenix feather, the ink rose from the page and the blank spaces immediately began to take in their natural color.

A split second later, in a flutter of events too tightly packed to be witnessed, in a manner that reminded me strongly of the Animaguc transformation, there was a chair placed beside Riddle.

With a satisfied smile, he sat on that: "What do you think?"

Minerva almost shouted in glee at the sudden demonstration: "You didn't conjure the chair!" she stated with certainty, while my eyes zeroed in on the journal in his hands and I tried to find a link of some sort among the objects drawn in there.

And so began the informal game that we had going on every time one of us showed off something new: the creator kept quiet, letting the other two attempt to figure out the vague outline of the magic behind the new marvel.

"You don't have... I don't know, I lighthouse inside that journal, do you?" I asked after a few seconds.

As if our previous, quiet confrontation never took place, Tom smiled slightly and simply shook his head, his lips closed as he refused to give even the smallest hint.

"You used the method of enchanting something in its new Shape to 'pin in place' the change without losing the previous properties, didn't you?" Minerva had never been accused of not being fast on the uptake, and with her green eyes gleaming with interest, I was reminded once more of her feline form.

"Well, wands are only a way to cast magic," I mumbled as I expanded my train of thought, "I guess it was a long-winded series of enchantments that allowed you to create this marvel... both on the ink, and the objects that you somewhat turned into drawings... have you considered what could you do with the blood of a Chimera mixed with the ink?"

Tom blinked as he suddenly considered the option: "You'd leverage the multi-faced properties of a creature composed like a puzzle to... make the ink more adaptable?"

I shrugged while I nodded: "Something like that... rituals are like potions on a larger scale, but I'd have to know the actual process to make an informed hypothesis."

Without batting an eye, Tom once more used his wand to fish from his leather-bound journal, extracting a thick roll of parchment that he offered me with a superior smirk: "Be my guest."

I immediately walked over to my table and unrolled the treasure that Riddle just offered, my eyes positively devouring the contents while I grabbed a blank parchment and began to scribble notes on it: there was a little of everything in this particular piece of magic.

Tom had a way of thinking that didn't match mine all that often, but the more important parts needed to build this enchantment were explored distinctly: "A bit of the Protean Charm, some theory of Switching Spells, of course, enchantments on the ink that has to be applied to the objects..."

My eyes hadn't betrayed me when I thought of the Animagus transformation when I observed the chair transition from a drawing to the real deal, only for my eyes to rise from what I was reading while I made an actual question.

"Only you can put stuff in and out using that particular ink, can't you?"

Tom nodded, clearly never even considering how useful it could be to send something the size of a chair through owl-post, "I had to craft everything, from the journal to the ink."

My focus returned to the parchment while Minerva pulled from one of her pockets the Black King that she had kept since her creation of the Doors, handing it over to Tom with a roll of her eyes: "Well deserved, I think... unless Rubeus has something to show us?"

I shook my head while I took in the part of the notes that explained how the ink had to be bound with each of the objects meant to be transferred on parchment. Is this how the Dark Mark was born?

And just as I thought about it, I imagined another thing: "Could you store your wand as a tattoo?"

Of course, Tom already had an answer, because even he, in his conceited and sadly often earned superiority, had considered how useful it could be to always have your wand with you.

"Human skin isn't stable enough to hold an object, the 'body' would take the addiction as some sort of malady, or invasion, I can't imagine the effects on Mind or Magic."

I hummed thoughtfully, not quite convinced: this particular method didn't work with human skin as a conduit, but I wasn't fully human, was I? And couldn't I attempt a metamorphosis through a ritual of sorts? This wasn't living magic, so there would be no need for an outrageous sacrifice... there were options that deserved to be explored, that was sure.

Then another idea popped up in my mind, and I rose my eyes to see Minerva approaching me to observe Riddle's notes from the side, in that passive-aggressive impatient attitude of hers, while Tom twirled the Black King in his hand with a self-satisfied smile.

"I'm nearing a dead end on my research for a cure." I didn't specify a cure for what, both knew what I was talking about, "Myth says that Lycaon was the first to be cursed by the gods, and that happened in Greece. It's our good fortune that Chimaeras are also native of that region... what do you say to a summer hunting trip?"

Minerva's lips thinned: "You can't have possibly suggested that we, all underage, move about Europe during wartime."

I shrugged while my eyes remained fixed on Tom: "I never had a problem with that, the Trace spots underage wizards only in muggle areas, because the Ministry knows where they live, we merely have to keep to the wilderness, which coincidentally is where we might find a chimera to study."

"And aren't you already 17?" Tom spoke idly as a frown appeared on his features, a sign that he was thinking furiously despite his calm tone: the opportunity of not being in London for the entirety of the Summer clearly interested him, "You were planning on taking the Apparition exam this spring, weren't you?"

"You're 17?" I blinked owlishly at the slightly annoyed expression on the witch's face.

"I was born the 4th of October," she sniffed, "I've been of age for a while."

"Then we'll use this expedition to figure out a proper present for your majority." I clapped my hands excitedly, "I'll need to learn how to render magical creatures if we're pushed into defending ourselves!"

Tom rose from his chair and returned it to his leather-bound journal with another tight arc described by his yew wand: "We might as well start opening some personal accounts in Gringotts, thanks to professor Slughorn I heard that with the war many esoteric ingredients have been restricted, and when they reach the market they're never as fresh as they should be."

"I can figure out a potion for preserving anything under the sun." I nodded, grabbing another piece of parchment and starting a list. How eager must he be? He never allowed himself to be seen like this.

There was an excited gleam into Tom's eyes as he walked over to me and started to observe my list: "My trick won't be adequate for transportation of massive things, parts of creatures included, I could transport empty jars, however."

"You're all assuming that I agree with this madness!" Minerva jumped in, her arms crossed in a way that suggested she was trying to hold herself back, "I have my N.E.W.T.s next year, this summer I might be introduced to Flamel himself, and I have to help around a bit at home! I cannot simply go gallivanting..."

"It will be a couple of weeks in the worst-case scenario, Minerva." Tom smoothly interceded,

"I'm not sure I'm able to apparate while bringing other people in tow..." she objected, "Besides, we're talking about Greece! It's not exactly behind the corner!"

"I've built a shack near the Alps, how difficult could it be to portkey there?" I asked honestly, "Maybe I'll ask Orion, he has a knack for charms."

"Maybe a small rowboat? We can enlarge it once we're there and follow the coast if we cross Italy." Tom raised another point that I added to the list, already thinking about how I could tweak the potions I used to build my shacks so that our hypotetical ship would be adequate for the travel.

"Don't ignore me!"

"Minerva, I can see that you're interested." I rolled my eyes, "You're a born hunter, as your other form suggests: you've objected, and if something happens, it will be our fault."

"Of course, a group of three is much safer than one of two, and you'd be able to keep an eye on us if you came along." Riddle was, as always, an extraordinary manipulator.

Of course, Minerva had managed to grow wise to his most blatant attempts, and so she took a deep breath to berate him.

"Besides, I've been apparating since my first year." I dropped the news like the bomb they were, and I luxuriated in the outraged glances I received: "What, did you think I walked to the Alps? Please."

I wanted to scoff, but my mind returned to the potential of ingredients that were the result of a hunt I was a part of.

I could use them to actually empower the hunting ritual I was experimenting with in order to push the werewolves beyond their 'cursed' state. And what more? Ignoring the human-sacrifice, there was no reason why a magical creature couldn't be turned into something else. Tom mentioned a boat, did he not?

"I need to research Kelpies." I added that to the top of my list: didn't Durmstrang come to Hogwarts for the Triwizard through a magical ship? That had clearly been able to transport living people across a great distance.

I didn't miss the sudden interest that Tom displayed while Minerva spluttered indignantly because of how we more or less coerced her into coming with us.

Yes, I thought to myself as we kept going over the logistics of a theoretical voyage that had to be kept under wraps, and I felt a familiar excitement rise in me like an infinite wave, this will be fun.

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Well, this was a characterization arc more than anything else, only little foreshadowing, and more or less an attempt to inject new life in the relationship between the MC and Minerva in particular.

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