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Rorschach's Blot: The Hunt For Harry Potter

Again not my Fanfic. I wish I was creative enough for this. A Sequel to Make a Wish: Takes place directly after the events of 'Make a Wish,' Harry Potter is missing and his friends are determined to find him.

FanOfAGoodStory · Book&Literature
Not enough ratings
16 Chs

Chapter 15 Go Aggies

Disclaimer: Always read something before you sign it.

Harry arrived on campus in front of the register. "Yes?" The woman asked, "when did you get here?"

"Just arrived," Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter . . . I should be signed up to start classes?"

"At this time of year?" The woman said oddly. "I'll look." The woman played with her computer for several seconds before a look of comprehension appeared on her face. "Ah, you should have said you were an exchange student."

"Sorry."

"I should be the one apologizing," the woman said with a laugh. "I didn't hear an accent so I assumed . . . how long have you been in Texas?"

"Not long," Harry replied. "But I've always been good with languages."

"Yes I see that," the woman said with a glance at her computer. "Would you like me to make you a printout of your schedule?"

"Please," Harry agreed. "Uh . . ."

"Out the front door and take a left," the woman said. "Just follow the path till you see the sign that says HEM."

"Thanks," Harry replied. Harry walked out of the building until he saw a large sign with glowing letters. "Lots of magic in this place," Harry muttered to himself. "Well . . . no point in wasting time." Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harry walked into the building and was immediately met by a woman at a desk.

"May I help you?"

"Uh . . . I think so," Harry replied. "I have this print out . . ."

"Let me see that," the woman demanded. "This all looks to be in order. I just need your signature here and for you to fill out this medical questionnaire before we get started."

"Ok," Harry agreed slowly. This wasn't what he expected but then again he didn't have anything to compare this situation with.

"Finished?" The woman asked impatiently.

"Almost," Harry said quickly. "Here."

"Go through the door behind me," the woman said. "The Doctor is waiting."

"She is?"

"The Doctor is a man," the woman said rudely. "And he's too important to be kept waiting."

"Right," Harry agreed. Harry walked up to the door and peeked inside.

"Ah Mr. Potter, come in." A man inside said loudly, "I'm Doctor Schlock."

"Harry Potter," Harry muttered in reply. "This doesn't look like an Archeology class."

"That's because it's not," the man replied with a grin. "It's the High Energy Magic building, where we find out things man was not meant to know."

"I have a friend that you might want to meet," Harry said with a grin. "The Professor? Hangs out with Henchgirl."

"Two of the finest minds in the field," Doctor Schlock agreed. "Inspirations to us all, now if you'll just sit in this chair."

"Ok," Harry agreed. "Why are you strapping me down?"

"Hmmm, oh don't worry about the restraints. They're just there to prevent you from escaping," Schlock said absently, "you did provide the secretary with a copy of your medical records did you not."

"I filled out a survey of some sort," Harry agreed nervously.

"Good, then we're all set."

"What are we doing?" Harry demanded.

"You want to become an Archaeologist, yes?"

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"And you'd like to get through your schooling as quickly as possible, yes?"

"Yes"

"Then this invention is the thing for you," the odd man enthused. "With it you can learn an entire subject in just a few minutes."

"That sounds nice," Harry allowed. "What's the drawback?"

"Just a small headache," Schlock replied a bit too quickly.

"That's all?"

"I think I figured out a way to stop your brain from oozing out your nose," Schlock said in a rush. "Now let's get started."

"Why don't you just let me go," Harry suggested.

"Go?" Doctor Schlock said. "Alright."

"Wait," Harry screamed . . . but it was too late. Harry felt like his body was being used as a relay in a power station. The pain was incredible, mercifully it did not last long.

"So . . . did it take?"

After a few moments Harry managed to reply. "I know kung fu," he groaned.

"Really?" Doctor Schlock asked with a frown, "I thought we got rid of that program . . . you're not feeling the urge to become a janitor are you?"

"No," Harry managed to reply.

"Good," Doctor Schlock said enthusiastically. "And since at first I don't succeed and all that rot."

"Arrg," Harry's body arched as the machine gave him another jolt of knowledge.

Harry didn't know how long he was in the chair or how much information had been forcibly downloaded into his brain.

"Well, that's the last of them." Schlock said happily. "I'll have the university mail your degrees."

Harry chose not to reply, deciding instead to focus all his energy on stumbling out the door. Once he had escaped from the mad scientist, he pulled out his Zippo and called for help. "Henchgirl," he whispered.

"Yes?" Henchgirl's voice replied.

"Help," Harry managed to groan before everything went dark. The last thing he remembered was Henchgirl frantically calling for an emergency extraction.

IIIIIIIIII

Henchgirl forced herself to smile as she walked into Black the INK hospital and medical research center.

"What can I do for you Henchgirl?" The Doctor asked without looking up.

"Hello Doctor," Henchgirl said innocently. "I need to borrow some horrid disease . . . tell me about leprosy."

"Third shelf on the . . . why do you want to borrow a horrid disease?" The Doctor asked suspiciously, "does this have something to do with the fact that Mr. Black's brain turned green?"

"Maybe," Henchgirl admitted.

"What'd you do?" The Doctor asked wearily.

"Nothing," Henchgirl said sadly. "That's why I need the disease . . . something that causes disfigurement and horrific pain."

"Explain," the Doctor ordered.

"Well," Henchgirl began. "Some unscrupulous wannabe scientist decided to use an unsafe device on Mr. Black and I want to make it clear by example that this is not acceptable behavior."

"Except when you do it," the Doctor muttered.

"What was that?" Henchgirl asked, "I didn't quite catch that."

"I was wondering why Mr. Black didn't just kill the idiot himself," the Doctor replied.

"No reason," Henchgirl said with a devious smile. "No reason at all . . . now about that horrifically painful virus?"

"Not until you tell me what this is all about," the Doctor said with a smirk. "Every little detail."

"I can't," Henchgirl said with a shrug. "Sorry."

"Does this have something to do with Mr. Black's real identity?" The Doctor prompted.

"As death?" Henchgirl said nervously. "I suppose I could use the Plague if you want . . . great idea," Henchgirl giggled nervously . . . for fifteen minutes.

"No, as Harry Potter," the Doctor replied.

"How'd you know?" Henchgirl demanded.

"Two things," the Doctor began. "I'm a Doctor, more specifically I'm his Doctor."

"Ok," Henchgirl agreed. "What's the second reason?"

"My nurse talked"

"Nurse?" Henchgirl's eyes crossed.

"The House Elf," the Doctor explained. "She couldn't stop talking about how great Harry Potter sir, I've explained things to her and she'll stay quiet. Now about this revenge you wanted to get, I think I have just the thing . . ."

The two girls worked late into the night working up the perfect potion. The Doctor contributed her knowledge of the human body and Henchgirl used her amazing skills . . . pity the poor fool that got in their way.

"I've been meaning to ask you," the Doctor said as they finished. "How are you going to get him to drink it?"

"I've got a cunning plan," Henchgirl replied. "It's a masterpiece of subtlety and cunning, bwa bwaha bwahahahahahaha."

The Doctor sighed, it was so tedious working around people that would descend into maniacal laughter without warning . . . on the plus side, it did allow her the opportunity to sneak out of the room.

IIIIIIIIII

"You," Henchgirl called out to an odd looking man.

"Me?" The man replied.

"Is your name Doctor Schlock?" Henchgirl growled.

"Yes?"

"Drink this," Henchgirl commanded as she thrust a vial of vile potion into the man's hand.

"Ok," Doctor Schlock agreed, reasoning that it might encourage the pretty girl to talk to him longer.

Inwardly, Henchgirl began to cackle evilly . . . the goose potion should be kicking in right about . . . now.

"Excuse me," Doctor Schlock screamed. "But I must be getting to a bathroom."

"I'm afraid I spelled all the bathroom doors shut," Henchgirl said with a smile. "And charmed your pants to stay up when you weren't looking. I'd say have a nice day but you won't . . . or a nice month . . . or year . . . it might wear off after a decade though so I guess you have something to look forward to."

"Arrrrg," Dr. Schlock's pained scream echoed through the halls.

"Hee hee hee," Henchgirl giggled. The Potion she'd mixed was doing its job and it'd take months for a skilled potions master to find a cure, months for the Doctor's little surprise to do it's work. Henchgirl giggled again, they always looked at the contents of the bottle and never thought to check what was on the outside.

AN: A little shorter than usual but it seemed like a good stopping point. Posted some notes by mistake earlier.

Omake by Celebwen Telcontar

Morvala gently patted his light rose-dun stallion's haunches, smiling as Rokkofirn swung his head over to him. The stallion snorted and nuzzled Morvala, gently blowing into the Atlantean Mage's hair.

"Grandpapa!" Moriel, Morvala's granddaughter, cried. Rokkofirn whinnied loudly, and Annatar, Gorgoroth, and Makaar cried out in response. Annatar, a pure white stallion, broke from his stall, and stared Moriel down.

"Annatar! Back, back boy! Go on!" Morvala snapped. The white horse backed back into his stall, snorting and pawing the ground. Then, a fire chestnut head was thrust out followed by a pitch black one as Makaar and Gorgoroth wanted some attention too. "Moriel, why don't you go back and get Emrys. I need him to groom the other three." The Mage slipped the thin bridle over Rokkofirn's head, and led the pale stallion out into the sunlit street as Moriel ran off to get the servant.

Emrys was there in a few minutes, holding a grooming brush and leading Makaar out of the stables to hitch the red horse to the outdoor cross-ties in order to groom the finicky warhorse.

"Morvala, Sir," Emrys asked.

"Yes, Emrys? I need to go and get some work done, boy, so be quick!"

"Listen, My Lord, the Senators wanted to drive me out!"

"Well, we knew that it was going to happen sooner or later, Emrys. You are the lowest ranking Atlantean by magic level, and so naturally they'd want you to leave. Take the grey, and leave quickly. I can't have my servant strung up, now can I? Go to the mainland." Morvala set the light saddle on his pale mount, and pulled his black hood up over his face.

"Here, My Lord," Emrys said, handing the very imposing figure his scythe. Morvala then swung into the saddle and gave Rokkofirn a light kick. The pale horse then cantered off.

"Good luck, Myrddin," Moriel whispered to her longtime friend. Myrddin Emrys nodded to her, walked back into the stable and took Shade, his grey gelding, out before leading Makaar back into his stall. Then, the horse whisperer leapt onto the horse, and rode off. "Good luck indeed, old friend."

"Well well, what have we here?" a voice asked. Moriel turned around to see one of the Senators behind her. "Moriel Istar, all alone. Not even her dear lover to protect her."

"Leave my granddaughter alone," a voice hissed. Rokkofirn leapt the fence, Morvala clinging to the pale horse.

"Why should I?" the senator snapped. He lifted his blade, and plunged it into Moriel's side. The girl gave a huff as her breath left her in a rush. The senator removed his blade, and blood gushed from the wound.

"I am death incarnate!" Morvala screamed, lifting his scythe as Rokkofirn rushed forward. In the flight, the horse seemed gangly and sick, the ribs seeming to show beneath the seemingly dull coat. The fine head became a skull covered in taught skin, and the legs became nothing but bones and a drum-tight hide. Morvala's face seemed to become nothing less than a human skull, and the passersby on the street saw that Morvala's statement was true. He was Death Incarnate.

As the scythe met the senator's neck, his head was severed. Then, Morvala leapt from his pale horse, and held his dying granddaughter in his arms. "No, no! Moriel, my darling granddaughter," Morvala whispered. But it was too late. Moriel was dead.

Morvala let a scream of loss rip from his throat. Then, he released Moriel, and launched himself on his stallion, releasing the other three Horses in a burst of Mage-energy. The three horses, Annatar, the gleaming white stallion, Makaar, the blood-red warhorse, and Gorgoroth, the black stallion that looked almost leprous, followed the grief-maddened Atlantian. "You will all pay," Morvala hissed in anger. "You will never leave this land, and will all drown and go to cold, watery graves. All will die. Anyone who kills a child shall now know my vengeance!" As the four horses and the Mage left, three people, a warrior, a leper, and a crazy temple leader who thought he was the son of some Atlantean god or other, leapt onto the red, black, and white horses and left.

Thus began the myth of the Four Horses of the Apocalypse.

Three hundred years later, Morvala took his own life. Two thousand years later, a boy named Harry Potter was born. His soul was a new one, but behind it, he had a second soul. Morvala, Death Incarnate, the Rider of the Pale Horse, had been reborn. The world would never be the same, and all would know that their Apocalyptic Legends and Myths would soon come to pass. For now the Herald of Death was back, and Death would now bow out to allow Morvala to take its place once again. The Earth let forth a light shudder of fear and awaited the day that Morvala would come into his own, and take the name Mr. Black.