History of the World Volume XIIX Chapter 5 The Rule of Turpin – The Iron Hand of Turpin and His Enforcers, His Six Reapers
When an empire grows to span the entire world, a single man, an emperor, cannot hope to manage the smallest details of his society. His rule becomes less personal, more general and sweeping. The world knows the emperor by his subordinates, his governors, his generals. In centuries past, Emperor Turpin created a small personal army consisting of six demon-wizards. Their names: Savio, Fastosus, Gluto, Invidia, Irritum, and Avaritia were taken from the Latin for the vices: wrath, pride, gluttony, envy, lust, and greed. Their common name, Reapers, was coined by an unknown person during the Baltic Rebellion in the fourteenth century. Through this elite cadre, Turpin has maintained a personal hand amongst his subjects...
A witch's workshop betrays many things about the master magic crafter within. When Snape crossed the threshold into his new mistress's chamber, he wondered at the sanity of the witch within. Abacuses lined the walls, while lines of mathematical reasoning covered every visible surface. There were graphs of asymptotes and bell curves. Picking his way toward the center of the chaos, he found the source of the mess. A curvy witch with a mass of black hair piled on her head in a lopsided bun, stared raptly at a map of Europe with a set of circles drawn on it.
"Excuse me, Oscasia?" Snape asked.
The woman turned, almost falling off her stool. "No no, not Oscasia. She's our coordinator, a hands-on type but not much for the numbers. You won't be seeing much of her. I'm Mabel Turpin, and you'll be assisting me here. Your records say you're exceptional with logic and arithmetacy. I have some numbers for you to work through for me. What was your name? Snap? You are Snap, right?"
"Snape, Serverus Snape." Mastering his voice into polite tones, he refused to let the short slob of a witch rankle him over a seemingly innocent mispronunciation. While staring at Mabel's map, Snape gestured vaguely at the clutter in the room. "What is all of this, if I'm allowed to ask?"
"Ask me anything," Mabel said. "I'll tell you what I can." She pointed to the map with the circles. "After a hundred and fifty years dealing with South America, our epicenter shifted about twenty years ago. Before you ask what the epicenter is, you don't get to know. It's our job to make sure the emperor finds what he's looking for within this area." Mabel sighed deeply. "It's mostly statistics and probability that we'll be working on. Are you up to this?"
"I have no problem with statistics or probability," Snape said. He didn't bother to ask what the emperor was looking for. It was bound to come out eventually, and his curiosity could wait until it did.
A passel of opossums, greasy, gray creatures that hissed and spat at the students in front of them, stared out of their wicker cages. Professor Riddle tapped the cages and one caged opossum appeared in front of each pair of students. "Is everyone up to date on their reading?" he asked. "I hope so."
"Mr. Green, what kind of curse might we be practicing on our specimens today?" Riddle asked. When Harry didn't answer right away, Riddle smirked. "Okay, Mr. Green, do you know what they are?"
Harry shook his head. The creature was staring at him with its shiny beady eyes, its lips curled back in a perpetual snarl. "I've never seen them before, but from the reading...Are they opossums, sir?"
"Good, if you read enough to identify one, can you tell me what curse we'll be practicing today?" Riddle asked.
"The Tbowg curse?" Harry answered hesitantly.
"Good," Riddle said. "Does everyone understand why an opossum is the ideal creature to practice Tbowg curses on? Explain it to me, Malfoy."
Draco stared at Professor Riddle, allowing his simmering hatred for the man to boil behind his eyes. "Not that this is Ecology, but Tbowg is a basic bottom-line barrier breaker. Opossums are natural magical barriers."
Harry glanced at Draco, shocked at the cheeky tone he was using with the man who carved a hunk out of his face. Not that today was any different than usual. Draco acted like Riddle had done his worst, and now there wasn't anything to fear. Personally, Harry suspected that their professor wasn't out of severe punishments, but so far Riddle had ignored Draco's attitude except for some minor homework punishments.
"No, this isn't Ecology," Professor Riddle said. "Perhaps we should discuss what this class is in detention tonight. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Green, I will see the two of you here at seven. Bring your wands."
On their way out of class, Harry dogged Draco's steps. "Why do you have to act like that in his class? I've done more extra homework essays because of your attitude, and now we're adding detentions. It's pointless. You think he's going to take his veto back because you mouthed off?"
Without breaking stride, Draco cast Harry a self-important smile. "He knows he hasn't got to me, not really. The day I roll over and play nice for him, he wins. You should really thank me, Green. With me giving him cheek, your boot-licking is twice as impressive."
Harry lost step, his spine straightening. "Boot-licking? I don't lick anyone's boots, thank you very much. I'm just keeping my nose clean."
"Whatever you say, Green." Draco pushed through the doors to the Great Hall and headed for the queue.
Instead of heading straight for the line of people where he would be forced to continue in Draco's company, Harry plopped into a seat between Hermione and Ron. Biting back his need to vent, Harry smiled at his two friends and stole a roll from Ron. "How was Ecology this morning?" Harry asked. Since neither of them was covered in anything foul it appeared to have gone relatively well.
"Fine," Ron muttered. "We may yet survive the term, if Hermione can stop accidentally irritating every creature in class."
"Hey, everything went fine today, remember," Hermione snapped.
"Yeah, it's hard to rile up a tuft of Greener Grass," Ron said. "What's going to happen when Professor Wesson brings something a little more interesting to class like a Hippogriff or a poisonous serpent?"
Listening to the two of them argue over his head, Harry almost regretted joining them, but they were an excellent distraction. Trying to keep up with their current drama prevented him from even thinking about his own. Gnawing absently at Ron's wheat roll, it took him a few seconds to realize that the bickering duo were staring at him silently. "What?" Harry asked.
"I asked you how Dark Arts went today," Hermione said. "Did Draco get you another essay?"
"Nah, we've graduated to detentions. This partner thing is completely ridiculous. When Riddle finally gets fed up and murders him, will I get the killing curse too?" Harry shoved the rest of Ron's roll down and pushed himself to his feet, heading for the food line.
"He shouldn't joke about that," Hermione said. She tucked her bushy hair behind her ear. Brandishing her fork like a weapon of mass destruction, she attacked her cheesy pasta. "Third tier wizards are allowed to use Avada Kedavra, Crucio, and even Imperius at their discretion as long as it isn't another third tier wizard they're casting on. Professor Riddle could kill one of his students without repercussions."
"That's not true," Ron said. "Is it? Where did you hear that?"
"Unlike some people I've been reading Professor Fudge's assignments, and they're actually quite enlightening." Hermione chewed silently for a few moments and continued in a tentative tone. "I'm sorry about the Ecology stuff, okay. I'm really not trying to make the magical creatures angry. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"Your mood is the problem from what I can tell," Neville offered. Hermione spun toward her soft-spoken round-faced classmate, a whole litany of angry declarations about eavesdroppers on the tip of her tongue. "See you're angry now. Those creatures can tell, and it sets them on edge."
"What do you know about it?" Hermione asked. "I'm not always angry in Ecology."
"I'm sure you're not." Neville's agreement lacked conviction, and he rose with his dirty dishes. "See you later."
"Who does he think he is, lecturing me about my mood bothering the magical creatures?" Hermione groused.
"His mother is just a famous Magic Ecologist," Millicent Bulstrode said, defending her partner. She rolled her eyes at Hermione and shook her head. "He practically knows more than Professor Wesson. Maybe you should listen to him before you get yourself or your partner hurt."
Even though they'd only been working together a few weeks, Ron recognized the tension knotting Hermione's shoulders and curling her fingers into fists. She was approximately one interchange from completely losing her cool. "Really, well maybe you shouldn't roll your eyes so much, Millicent? It draws attention to your unibrow," Ron said. He smiled with fake concern at the dark-haired girl's shocked expression. "What was that about Professor Riddle being able to kill us all, Hermione?" Ron asked. He hoped his subtle topic steering would help her calm down. The girl had serious anger management issues.
Still tense and staring at Millicent, Hermione gradually let her gaze slide back to her food. "He can kill anyone not on the third tier with impunity. He would have to answer to his peers, and if they felt he was behaving unfairly they could censure him or even have him brought before the emperor, but that's all after the fact."
"Brutal," Ron said. "Remind me to be on my best behavior in that class."
"It makes you wonder though, what his detention will be like," Hermione said.
"No afternoon classes today," Hannah Abbot said. She and her partner stopped long enough to share their news. "There's some kind of assembly here in the Great Hall. Professor Riddle sent us back down."
"Assembly?" Hermione clutched her Spell Crafting book close, a frown creasing her brow. She turned to Ron. "What kind of assembly?"
"Why are you asking me when I just found out about it too?" Ron asked. "I doubt it's very important."
With his plate of food in hand, Harry squeezed back between Ron and Hermione. "I see you heard about the assembly. It's getting us out of class. Isn't that great?" Harry said. He grinned and idly sculpted his mashed potatoes with his fork. "With that detention tonight, I did not need any Spell Crafting homework."
"I'm so proud for you, Harry," Hermione said. "Unfortunately, we'll all get tested on the material whether we get the lecture or not. We need another study night. Tonight we're supposed to cover History of Magic for the test tomorrow. Maybe this Friday could be our extra Spell Crafting night?"
"We do not need another study night," Ron groaned. "I can't take much more of this place. First years can't join clubs, play sports, or do ANYTHING that doesn't involve a textbook. If it weren't for my old set of wizard chess, I think I'd be stark raving mental right now."
"Losing to you at chess has been something to look forward to," Harry said. "Want to play tonight after my detention?"
Ron cast Hermione an annoyed look. "There's no chance of prying her out of a textbook long enough so yeah, unless Riddle keeps you all night. Aren't you a little worried about that detention?"
"Why worry? I figure me and Draco will be writing lines or something else tedious. Just because Riddle's third tier and short tempered and teaches Dark Arts doesn't mean he's going to toss us on the rack for detention."
"Silence! Quiet please," Headmistress McGonagall called. She waited for the stragglers to grab a seat and all talking to cease before continuing. "Our school is being visited by...some very special guests. The Lady Oscasia will be speaking with you this afternoon."
While the headmistress spoke the students watched the exotic cadre of third tier witches standing to her right. The woman standing out front wore golden diaphanous robes. They were cinched close to her body at her neck and fore arms and waist with beautifully carved golden ropes of snakes. Her face was painted with dramatic black lines in the fashion of ancient Egyptian royalty. Standing next to McGonagal and her simple black robes the woman seemed too bright, garish and overdone.
"Hello, children," Oscasia said. "We are looking for a student for Special Dispensation, Service to the Emperor. Come forward youngest first, and be examined."
Oscasia's four handmaidens, girls dressed as replicas of their mistress except that they wore white robes and silver serpents, levitated a black stone forward and settled it onto the staff table in front of their mistress.
Hesitantly the first year students rose. At McGonagoll's sharp gesture, they picked up their pace and headed forward nearly single file. Harry watched the students ahead of him touch the stone as though it were any other divination stone, but there were no flashes like when the sorting happened. Harry brushed his fingers over the cool stone, and pulled his hand back quickly. The surface was numbing, gritty, and sticky. His fingers were tingling from their momentary encounter. When he looked again after getting back to his seat, the stone looked clear and smooth, nothing like the nasty surface his hand had felt.
Next to him, Hermione was rubbing her hand on her robe and she leaned close to whisper in his ear. "It wasn't clean."
Harry nodded and watched the other students file past. Most didn't seem to notice anything amiss with the stone, but others were obviously nonplussed by its texture. About halfway through the fifth year students the procession stopped abruptly, students actually bumping into each other as forward progress ended. One of Ron's brothers, Fred or George, Harry couldn't really tell which, had touched the stone and the block had turned brilliant crimson. He seemed to be trying to pull his hand back from the red stone unsuccessfully. Harry could imagine the stone's stickiness cementing and holding a hand to it.
Oscasia came down to the front of the dais a half-smile twisting her lips crookedly. She bowed from her waist to the Weasley twin who was snared. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Fred Weasley, Lady," he said quickly. He returned her bow as best he could with his hand caught. "I seem to be stuck."
Oscasia tapped the stone with her wand, and it released Fred's hand. Almost immediately it shifted from red to black again. "You will need to come with us, Mr. Weasley."
The other Weasley twin, George, was hanging back, a rather shocked expression on his face. Fred flexed his newly freed hand experimentally and wiped it surreptitiously on his robes. Oscasia placed a hand at his back and steered him forward. Looking over his shoulder, Fred caught George's eye and shrugged.
The handmaidens whisked the stone away while Oscasia steered Fred out the door. As soon as the door closed sealing the departing witches from view, conversations erupted around the room. Ron was out of his seat the moment the doors closed. "What the heck could the emperor want with my brother?" Ron asked. "I have to talk to George."
"Quiet please," McGonagall called. She had practically faded into the tapestry decorating the wall behind her while Oscasia and her witches had presided over the room. "I want everyone to head straight back to their dormitories. Use this extra time to study."
"Right like anyone's going to study after that display. Do you think she even knows what they want with Fred?" Harry asked.
Hermione didn't answer. She was watching Ron's back as he headed forward against the flow of the students toward his remaining brother. "I should go with him," she said. "He's my partner, and he's upset."
"Yeah," Harry said. She'd said partner, but he knew what she meant. Ron had achieved a rare honour in Hermione's universe. He was a friend, and she wasn't about to abandon him. "We should both go. Come on."
By the time they reached Ron and George McGonagall was gone, and the brothers were deep in conversation. George nodded toward Harry and Hermione. He spun away from his brother and headed out of the room at a near run.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked.
"Not exactly," Ron said. "We have no idea what's going on. That pack of third tier witches showed up on McGonagal's doorstep with their black divination stone and a dispensation from the Emperor to test all the kids here."
"Test them for what?" Harry asked. "They just came in here and took your big brother without telling anyone what they wanted with him?"
"I know it's crazy!" Ron shouted. "George is freaking out. He went to McGonagal's office to try and find out what's happening. She's supposed to be contacting her superiors."
"I have to go," Hermione said abruptly. She stared at Ron, a fierce determined look in her eyes. Only a girl raised without the privilege of literacy could really understand the power in a book. The wizards wrote everything down. Books had answers. There were thousands of books in the school, and one of them would be able to explain what a special dispensation to the emperor meant. She wanted to tell Ron that everything was going to be okay, but she didn't believe in platitudes or lying. "I have some research to do."
"I really don't understand her," Ron said. He stared after Hermione and turned a disgusted look on Harry. "She's going to study, now? She doesn't even care."
"Are you kidding? Hermione cares," Harry said. "She's just left to read every book in the building for your sake unless I'm guessing wrong. She wants to help you, and there aren't any eyes around for her to scratch out on your behalf. She just doesn't deal with one-on-one emotional situations. She finds something to do."
"Could you stop with the psychological guru stuff? You don't know what she's feeling or why she does the things she does. My brother, my big brother..." Ron gestured wildly, tears pooling in his eyes. "What if this is something bad?"
"Maybe it's something good?" Harry said. He shrugged and took a seat on the dais. "Why assume the worst? This could be anything. Didn't you say your brothers were on the Quidditch lineup for the Westies, and if there were more than three injuries this year, one or both of them might get called up?"
"This has nothing to do with Quidditch," Ron said. He slumped down next to Harry and mustered a lukewarm smile. "It isn't necessarily something bad though. Is it?"
"Not necessarily."
"What am I supposed to do, Albus?" Minerva paced in front of the two-talk mirror on her office wall. "I have to tell his parents something, but I have no idea where he is, why he was taken, or what they plan to do with him?"
"Tell them the truth," Albus said. "Everyone understands the arbitrary nature of this tiered system. I expect that Fred Weasley is fine, performing a service for the emperor that he is well qualified for."
"So I write his parents, tell them that their son is somewhere doing something and that they'll probably hear from him sooner or later," Minerva said. "You don't know anything about this. You're sure? There hasn't been an inkling?"
Albus stared out at Minerva his eyes unwavering. "I would tell you if I knew anything." With a wave of his hand, the mirror went blank.
Minerva raised her wand to summon him back, her eyes watering. One word, one truth, one accusation was sitting in her mouth like a bitter pill, and she wanted to spit it at him.
"Liar," she hissed at the blank mirror.
Author's Note:
I feel like I had a red herring going half of this chapter. Harry and Draco had a detention scheduled and it felt like everything was headed for them dealing with that. Something no one knew was coming derailed everything, and Fred was taken. Is detention still going to happen? Of course! I'm sure they'll really enjoy the lines Riddle makes them write. As for what happened to Fred, time will tell.
Also, Fred and George are a little older than they would be in cannon though you might not have realized it until this chapter. I know it almost seems like I'm changing things to be changing them, but I always have a good reason, really!