The Knife
Chapter 3: The Knife
Rowena huffed into the room and paced up and down. Two beds and a table furnished it. She was angry at her mother. Why was she so against the school? Why couldn’t she at least be indifferent to the idea, if not pleased with it, never mind proud of it? Proud of her... She clenched and unclenched her fists. She was tense. She had to breathe. She would soon be out of this house. She would soon be making a life for herself, dare she imagine it, a name for herself. That thought soon relaxed her.
Suddenly, she was plunged into darkness. There was blackness everywhere, with no light. She couldn’t see her hands before her eyes.
“Mother!” she cried out, frightened.
But her voice only echoed as if in a void. There was no response. Where was she? She kept turning around. Nothing. She was so scared. Then at last, turning, she saw something in the distance, and it grew bigger. A hog. It walked towards a vast dark lake. It lowered itself to drink from its waters. She looked up. There was a vast cliff, and on top of the cliff stood a beast. A beast like nothing she’d ever seen before. It was big. It had the body and hind legs of a badger, the wings and front claws of an eagle, the head and mane of a lion, and the tail of a snake with its own head.
Then, as suddenly as the vision had started, it stopped, and she was back in the bedroom. She clenched her eyes, trying to remember all the little details of what she'd seen. Then she ran into the next room.
“Mother,” she exclaimed, “Mother!”
“What on earth is it?” Agatha asked.
She and Helga were sitting at the table.
“Do you know a place,” Rowena asked, trying to frame her question right, “a place where a hog might go to drink? Like a lake? A hog’s water perhaps?”
“Don’t know about that,” Agatha said, slightly put out by the question after such an exclamation, “but there’s Hogsmeade; a tiny little village. Tucked away right in the depths of the Highlands.”
Rowena clasped her hands together.
*
The next morning, Salazar woke up entirely refreshed. He smiled to himself. He could quite easily get used to all the bathing and the banqueting. His mind drifted back to the song from the previous evening. It made him feel unnerved and almost disturbed, but he soon allowed it to be driven from his mind. That morning, Juliana was to be their guide, as Erebus was working with his father.
She and her chaperone, an elderly lady named Ishtar who never spoke, led the boys out from the town and into the surrounding hills. They started ascending. Out in the countryside, there was more space, and the estates were bigger. There were fields of grain, vineyards, and generally more colour. They climbed further up one mound, leaving the estates behind, till there were just old winding paths, goats, and scattered foliage.
Here, in her sanctuary, Juliana came alive. She pointed out wild herbs and odd plants. She could list all their properties and their uses. She would occasionally pick up a leaf, rub it between her fingers, smell it, and then give it to Godric to smell, who would blush crimson as he hung on her every word. She would explain how to recognize the different plants and how to know when they were ripe for picking.
She was, really, quite something, Salazar couldn’t help but think. This education would, in fact, be extremely helpful. He enjoyed potion making, and these plants would come in very useful. He asked Juliana about preserving them, hoping he might take some back with him. He was thinking of teaching potions at the school. He hoped that, with all his spare time, he might even improve some of the potions or even create some of his own. There might even be talented students who could help him when they were advanced enough. Then he thought, these plants should really be available at the school. Perhaps they should teach about plants. Perhaps they could even have greenhouses to grow them in. Perhaps Juliana could teach them.
“Don’t touch that!” Juliana cried suddenly.
A startled Godric withdrew his hand from a purplish-looking plant at once. Juliana knelt closer.
“That is mandragora,” she said, eyes wide, “the cry of its roots could be fatal.”
Godric looked horrified.
It was soon too bright and hot to carry on, so they found a shady spot and opened a basket, which the old woman had been carrying up with her. They ate the fresh and delicious lunch.
“Your song was really beautiful last night,” Godric said at last to Juliana.
Oh dear, Salazar thought to himself, she really was quite pretty. Evidently, Godric thought so too. He wondered if they wanted to be alone. Whether he ought to leave them to it. Ishtar, who had been dozing for some time, was well and truly asleep.
“I’m just going to—” Salazar said to them, “I’ll be right back.”
There was no protest. So he got up, shook himself down, and left. Wandering aimlessly.
He passed a corner and stared down at the valley. He looked over the scenery, the houses, the people all milling about. It was breath-taking. The people, the pace, the weather—it was all so different from Britain.
Then mind wandered to Godric and Juliana. It was nothing, was it?
When he returned, they all seemed ready to move on. So, they started down the hill together, taking another route to the one they had gone up.
They were just minding their footing along a particularly steep part of the descent, which had required Godric to gallantly offer his hand to Juliana to help her down, when they heard a noise up ahead. It sounded like a soft sort of growling.
“Maybe we should head back up?” Juliana suggested, a slight quiver in her voice.
Before they could move, they saw it. Prowling around a shrub some way off, a magnificent, terrifying manticore. Its lion teeth bared aggressively, it was softly growling. Its scorpion tail swayed slightly. Its front claws were large and proud.
“Oh no!" Juliana exclaimed in fright.
The terror in her voice chilled them to their bones, rooting them to the spot.
"This is bad—" Godric gasped.
"That is an understatement!" Juliana cried.
Before they knew it, the beast had flexed its claws and then pounced towards them. Godric leapt too, blocking the others. He brandished his wand, and a barrier formed, which knocked the beast back as it crashed into it.
Rearing once more, it growled loudly, shifting from one side to the other. Salazar stepped forward and slashed his wand side to side, but his enchantments had no effect; the manticore’s thick skin was left unharmed. Instead, it was angered and launched itself forward again. Battling the shield charm, it fought against it with all its might. Godric struggled to hold it off. Salazar tried, with another swipe of his wand, to transfigure the wretched beast's teeth. He missed. The tail swung wildly, trying to reach a target. A sting the size of a fist kept pounding into the barrier. Salazar tried again. This time it worked—its teeth were rendered little more than stubs. In confusion, the manticore backed off. Seizing his advantage, Godric raised his wand.
“Expecto Patronum,” he shouted.
A bright flash erupted from the end of his wand, and a white lion leapt out of it. It charged at the beast. The manticore, terrified, leapt away into the thicket. The boys breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come quickly,” Juliana said, eyes wide, “before it returns.”
She led them down a different path. They all panted in disbelief. After a while, the boys felt the danger subside, but the rush of adrenaline was still there. Godric laughed with relief. The two boys, invigorated, began reliving the encounter in graphic detail. Juliana, who was probably more aware of the danger they’d been in, was still nervous and thanked them profusely. Godric took the opportunity to calm her nerves.
“I must tell my father when we get back,” she said adamantly, “they must drive it away or employ more defences. If you hadn't been there, I dread to think what would have happened!"
Godric blushed.
It wasn’t long, though, before Godric’s mind was elsewhere, and he whispered to Salazar, “Do you think we’ll have time for the bathhouse when we get back? I couldn't half do with a soak!”
*
That evening, the whole household was in high spirits. Yet another feast had been prepared, a seemingly regular occurrence. News of the group's adventure had travelled fast, and Caractacus was especially keen to show his appreciation. Nothing had been spared, and he treated them like his own sons. Everyone was eager to hear the story of their encounter, and with their appetites whetted, they were even more keen to hear the tale of the dragon.
Whether it was the elation from their narrow escape, the wine, the desire to prove the northern lands as equal to the south, or perhaps the hope of earning a hug, Salazar didn't know. But when the table was cleared and the guests looked expectantly at them, Salazar got up, strolled to the place Juliana had stood the night before, pointed his wand at a stack of instruments, and said, “Hit it.”
The instruments struck up at once. With finesse, Salazar conjured glittering scenes of the tale with his wand and proudly sang.
In days to come, they’ll bang the drum,
And sound the praise of England’s chum.
Sir Godric bold, as they’ll be told,
Did have inside a heart of gold.
He waved goodbye, so he could try,
To find the place where dragons fly.
He found with care, the dragon’s lair,
And bravely matched its loathsome stare.
Though it breathed fire, he did not tire,
But risked his life when all looked dire.
Then he did yell, an ancient spell,
Which could its strength and vigour quell.
Quick as a toot, he straddled brute,
And once for all gave it the boot.
The beast a wreck, he gave a check,
And plunged his sword into its neck.
So no more dread, the beast is dead,
To prove it he cut off its head.
So tell to all, a dragon’s fall,
And how a man heard England’s call.
And stand amazed, with glasses raised,
Sir Godric bold, his name be praised!
There was an eruption of cheering, clapping, and glass-clinking "horrahs" as had never been heard before. The Greeks loved it, having never heard the like, and talked loudly to each other, trying to recount the verses and make up their own. Godric shared a knowing eyebrow raise with Salazar before being whisked away by the guests, all wanting to share in his glory, shaking his hand, and patting him on the back. Salazar, pleased for him, watched the scene for a little while longer. But, after all that exertion, he felt a little deflated and went to find a quieter spot.
When it was time to retire, he went to his room and stopped outside. There, in the hallway, was Godric, tickling the neck of Juliana. She was flirty, all demure gone. It was a shock, somehow, and without understanding why, Salazar felt a pang of pain inside him. He turned to go inside his room. Godric spotted him.
“Salazar, Salazar,” Godric said a moment later as he entered the room.
Salazar was lying on his bed.
“What?” he asked, “I thought your room was next door.”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Oh,” Salazar sighed.
“I… we were just messing around, nothing happened.”
“Okay,” Salazar grunted, “would it matter if it did? That would be okay, wouldn’t it?”
“Suppose,” Godric replied quietly.
“I’m tired,” Salazar lied, “I’d like to get some sleep.”
“Oh, right,” Godric said, jumping up, “just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Of course, he did. Salazar thought. So long as everything was rosy in his garden.
“You know,” Godric said gently, “girls will come and go, but, at the end of the day, I'll always want to come back to you. You do know that, don’t you?”
Salazar felt his eyes glisten but said nothing. Godric left. A few moments passed while he stared at the wall. Then, who should walk in but Erebus.
“Oh, you’re sleeping,” Erebus said and made to leave.
“No, I’m not,” Salazar said, a bit too eagerly, straightening himself out.
“Good,” Erebus smiled. Then he carried on cautiously, “perhaps, then, you’d be up for a stroll?”
He was. A stroll sounded perfect. Then again, he didn’t think he’d have said no to anything Erebus had asked.
“Should we take Godric?” Salazar asked.
“No, no, I don’t think this is for Godric,” Erebus said, “he is not like you, is he? He is quite different, I think.”
Salazar flushed. What was he like? He shook off the feelings of guilt. If Godric could have secret assignations, surely he could too.
Erebus led them outside, quietly, through the front door. It was dark outside, but the moon was bright. They walked in silence. The streets looked eerie in the dark Perhaps they’d go to the bathhouse? Salazar could feel butterflies in his stomach as he looked at the handsome man. Erebus walked at a pace like there was somewhere he was meant to be.
“Are we going to some place in particular?” Salazar inquired, trying to keep up.
“Yes,” was all Erebus would reply.
His features did not look quite so handsome now, cast in the shadows of the night. He was leading them to the outskirts of the town, in a different direction from the one they’d gone in that morning. They came to a large clearing.
“Usually,” Erebus said, “guests are blindfolded. But, since you will return to Britannia, and you are with me, I do not think that precaution will be strictly necessary.”
This piqued Salazar's interest. Erebus approached a large stone that appeared to jut out of the ground, and with his wand traced the length of its entire edge. As he went, he whispered an incantation. The words were ancient, but Salazar understood them. With a loud scraping sound, the stone shifted away, slowly, to one side. It revealed a passageway beneath it, with stairs heading down. Erebus proceeded to the first step. He saw Salazar hesitate.
“You wanted a full education, didn’t you?” Erebus questioned.
He did. Salazar followed him down the stone steps. It felt darker, even though he saw lights flickering ahead of him. He heard a deep drum beating and then voices chanting. They entered what looked like a spherical chamber. There were stone benches arcing around the walls, which descended like a theatre towards a central circle. Torches lit the walls. A stone plinth stood in the centre of the circle, and a light shone upon it. Five women danced around and occasionally knelt and bowed. They wore very little. There were black-hooded figures scattered around the benches, maybe ten of them. A hooded elf high on one of the stone benches was the one banging the drum. A wooden table stood behind the plinth, and there were many scrolls upon it. Erebus led him down the flight of steps. When he reached the bottom, the drumming stopped. The girls fled backward, and he swept around to the other side of the plinth, with the table behind him. His face suddenly animated, he looked menacing. That’s when Salazar saw it, or rather felt it. A dagger lay on top of the plinth. It seemed to pull and attract everything towards it. It was dead… No, Salazar reconsidered, it was alive... It was, at least, a thing. This was dark magic, he knew it. Salazar had never encountered it before, but there it was, the darkest of magic. He did not know why, but it felt strangely mesmerizing, terrible, yet mesmerizing. He sat down.
“This is the dagger of Herpo,” Erebus spoke loudly, his voice echoing.
The others seemed to echo his words in chorus. He picked up his wand and pricked the tip of his finger. Blood trickled out. He raised his hand dramatically, then approached the plinth. He placed the tip of his finger carefully on the blade until the blood ran down, then he snapped it back quickly. The dagger seemed to soak up the blood like a sponge.
“Who will be next?” Erebus demanded.
One of the women threw herself down violently, as though she was possessed. She cried out, begging for it to be her. Erebus looked pleased and repeated the procedure on her. He spoke again, enacting some sort of ceremony. When it was concluded, some of the hooded figures rose to leave. Erebus turned to look at Salazar.
He spoke directly to him, “This dagger contains the soul, the soul of the greatest wizard that ever lived.”
He moved around the plinth, slowly, towards him.
“It is the dagger that he used to make the greatest sacrifice, a sacrifice for the cause, the cause of immortality. Thus done, he was able to impart a fraction of his own soul into the very object that had made it all possible. Herpo lives, still, in this. He is who we worship. The immortal.”
Salazar did not feel anything. He wasn’t sure what he was hearing. Erebus was now standing directly in front of him.
“Will you join the cause?” he purred seductively.
Salazar knew what was expected of him. He moved his arm out without thinking. It felt so good, so desirable. He opened up his palm and held up a single finger.
“Good,” Erebus caressed. “Blood is everything. Blood is life. Blood is death.”
Then Salazar, eyes wide, closed his hand again, “I…,” he stammered, “I am not ready yet.”
“No,” Erebus said with a piercing stare, “I don’t believe you are. But, perhaps, one day, you will be. It is said, long ago, a prophecy was made:
Be warned, a wizard will come whose forebear has been lost. The power will return, and the earth will count the cost.
Our religion believes it speaks of a great wizard, who will one day come. They will be the equal of Herpo. They will find the dagger, resurrect him, and the two will rule together in an eternal, glorious reign. We keep it safe until that day.”
Salazar was lost in Erebus’ gaze until a sound startled him out of his daze.
“What was that?” Salazar asked.
“What was what?” Erebus replied.
There it was again, a dark whispering. He stood up. It grew louder as he approached the door on the other side of the chamber. He knew it then. He could hear it calling to him.
“Master,” the voice hissed. “Let me eat. Let me feast.”
It kept repeating itself.
“Is there a snake here?” Salazar asked urgently.
“You are a parseltongue?” Erebus inquired, aghast. "That, is a rare gift. Herpo himself was a parselmouth."
“Let me feast. Let me kill. I hunger, Master, let me eat.”
“In the bowels of these chambers lies a basilisk. The very one Herpo first conceived. We feed it now, when it is hungry. It will live, almost, as long as he will.”
Salazar could hear it crawling away. He touched the door and felt the ancient wood. He had always felt strangely connected to snakes. He wondered what sort of life this basilisk must lead, trapped as it was inside this prison.
“It is time to go,” Erebus decided.
Salazar followed him back up the stairs, his mind swirling with the dark secrets he had just witnessed. As they reached the surface, the cool night air hit him, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere below. They walked back in silence, the weight of the night's revelations pressing down on Salazar's shoulders.
When they reached the house, Erebus turned to him. "I promised an education!"
Salazar nodded, his mind still reeling. He entered his room and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The night's events played over and over in his mind. The dagger, the ceremony, the prophecy. It was all so overwhelming.
As he drifted off to sleep, the whispers of the basilisk echoed in his mind, a dark lullaby that promised both power and peril.