Explorations
Norwegian Pinewood, 3rd November 2003
I made improvements to the existing memory crystals after I mastered Occlumency, by help of the experts at Black Sanctuary – which made me encourage the Residents to pursue jobs and studies that they like even more, but that’s another thing entirely. People who haven’t mastered Occlumency can benefit from those useful crystals, now, although I’d still encourage them to learn Occlumency first if the need for a crystal isn’t dire. With some tweaking, my memory-crystal team made it so that Squibs could join in reaping the benefits. And, after a request from Justin to give his in-the-know, orphan Muggle girlfriend a shortcut to learning Spanish, the team tweaked the crystals more so that Muggles could use them, too.
And just now, I proved that a Jaffa can benefit from a Muggle-friendly crystal, as I gave Teal’c access to a memory crystal about English – reading, writing, speaking, listening, nuances, dialects and even the nitty-gritty details, as mastered by an old, Muggleborn linguistics professor who is in the same Muggleborn Club as Hermione and Justin, which he donated in exchange to getting access to memory crystals of quite a few rare and reputedly dead languages, whose donors he provided himself… which made the team tweak a handful of blank crystals to siphon up and copy the relevant memories from Muggles.
The only downside to one of these small, transparent, disk-shaped crystals filled with swirling silvery memories, as far as I and my team know, is the attack of severe headache which can last from half a minute to half an hour, perhaps depending on the intake speed of each person. So I warned Teal’c beforehand and got him propped up on a tree-root, resting against the trunk of a particularly big pine tree which is still within the wards of Black Lodge.
I watched intensely and somewhat nervously as the memories seeped slowly out of the crystal, which was pressed against his temple by his own hand as the crystal requires, until the disk was fully transparent and Teal’c, closed-eyed, was openly grimacing. And then, just as slowly, the memories returned to the crystal one by one, having parted their knowledge, and now Teal’c looks at me ruefully, with his eyes still a little unfocused.
I shrug ruefully back to him. “The fastest and easiest way I know,” I tell him apologetically, in a lowered voice to account for his no-doubt lingering headache. “I used it another way, but I don’t think you would be able to do it. Besides, my way took so long.”
And his way, as evident just now, only took a minute.
What a clever fellow.
He bows from his seated position, rather low, in response. “My thanks, Harry.” Damn. He truly sounds like a native speaker of English. Good job, team. Sadly I can’t tell you about this finding, or I’d be a hypocrit in Hermione’s eyes.
Still, I give him a happy smile, as I recline against another pine tree which is more or less across from where he sits. “Are you warm enough?” I ask, while looking up and down at him, critically, referring to the secondhand woollen cloak with a hood and worn calf-high boots that the elves found somewhere to equip him further for this outing, plus the pair of woollen gloves that he is redonning now, after returning the crystal to me.
“I am,” he nods.
“So….” I fidget a little; nervous, for some reason. “Umm, do you feel fine enough? Want to explore these woods with me? I never got the chance, before.”
He rises to his feet, in response. – Well, he’s truly a man of few words, apparently, not just because he was in too much pain when I first chatted with him. But no matter, now I get to spend some not-stressful time with him outside the house.
I get to ask some questions to him, too, without anyone else listening in.
But I do that only when we’re taking a rest, with me panting heavily under the burden of just my own body and my featherlight pack, having traversed miles into the forest and up the mountain.
“Thanks,” I gasp when I notice him – still breathing normally and not sweating! – gathering up some dried branches from our vicinity, most likely for some fire. I’m still too busy gulping in breaths while leaning heavily against a nearby pine to say anything, let alone to help.
I motion him away, though, when he tries to light up the pile of branches by striking two of them together. My body may be battered, but my magic has recovered some, by now, at least enough to light a fire.
He gazes thoughtfully at me when, with another motion of my hand, the pile lights up with a merry, crackling blaze.
I gaze back at him, seriously. “Don’t tell anybody,” I warn him when I’ve recovered my breaths. “People in my community don’t like to advertise their abilities to outsiders. I don’t want us to be hunted down. I don’t want you to be hunted down, either.”
“As you wish.” He bows again.
“Is that your people’s way?” I ask, curious but also rather discomfited by all the bowing. “Bowing all the time like that, I mean.”
“Is it not your people’s way?” he asks back, rising from his bow, also raising an eyebrow.
I shrug uncomfortably. “Not mine, specifically.”
“But two of your people bowed to you, just this morning,” he points out in a reasonable tone.
I huff. “That loon,” I grumble sulkily. “Zabini was… joking, I think. And Tita refused not to courtsy. She’s an elf, and she said she likes to give ‘Master Harry’ due respect, and part of it is courtsying all the time and calling me Master.”
“Tita is your servant?” he asks as I hand him a cooking pot, which then I fill with Aguamenti.
“Yes. Elves need to bind themselves to people or places with power like what I showed you to live,” I explain while rummaging in my pack for the packets of Tita’s secret-recipe chocolate mix, also a few other ingredients and tools for hot chocolate. “They have power of their own, and they will die by that power going out of control if they don’t anchor themselves to a person or a place.”
“A symbiotic relationship?” he inquires. I look up and briefly stop rummaging, hearing the wary tone in his deep voice.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “The elves provide humans with various services, while the humans provide them with stability, belonging and, sometimes, even amplification of their native power.” Then, remembering Dobby’s tragic story and the conditions of the elves that I inherited from various families post-war, I add, “Some people don’t treat them right, though, and people mostly take the elves for granted by now. Through the generations, elves are made subservient to humans, though they could have lived side by side just fine.”
“Ah. I am familiar with such tales, myself, sadly,” Teal’c frowns, while spearing up a few trouts among the many that swim in the nearby spring. “This galaxy, it is mostly controlled by the Goa’uld, especially system lords like Ra, Chronos and Apophis.”
“So what Hermione said is true, then? You’re the leader of an army under someone called Apophis?” I venture out cautiously. “And what’s a ‘Gowel’?”
“Go-ah-oold, Harry. A Goa’uld has long body and no limbs. Some rumour says that it is genderless until it takes a host. It lives in aquatic environment. It feeds from the nutritions that humans process, as far as I know. And… indeed, I am the First Prime of Apophis. I am the leader of his armed forces, in charge of planning for and executing whatever he wishes,” he confirms solemnly, as he returns with the makeshift spear and four trouts stuck on it. Thankfully, he doesn’t look away when I try to meet his eyes, and I don’t detect malice in those eyes, although he is otherwise unreadable… again.
Still, I prod while watching him gut the trouts, “Everything, including taking humans as hostage?”
“Indeed,” he murmurs, now with sadness and regret tinting his voice and the expression in his downcast eyes. “Apophis wished for more slaves in his camps, and more hosts for his children and underlings. What I and my men did on Tau’ri was to be our third raid already.”
“Hosts? Like Arga with Hermione, then?” I offer tentatively, hopefully.
He shakes his head. My heart squeezes tight and sinks low, as if trying to force itself through to my stomach. It’s worse when he explains that a host normally has no control of his or her own body after a Goa’uld has entered him or her, usually through the mouth or the neck. Essentially, the host will be the Goa’uld, no longer who he or she previously was, although the face and body and a remnant of the voice will still be there. And nearly all of the Goa’uld are power-hungry, cruel little snakes… and it’s an offence to snakes everywhere!
Being a host… it’s unbreakable Imperius – anywhere, anyone, any time!
I help Teal’c make a fish soup in silence, using some ingredients and spices that I happen to have plopped into the bottomless depths of my pack this morning, as my stomach roils and bile tries to escape up my throat time and time again. The crisp, pine-scented mountain air doesn’t help much, especially since I can still smell fish guts underneath it all.
And thinking of fish makes me think of something larger and fiercer than the little creature nesting in Teal’c’s belly, zipping into an unwitting human as he or she swims peacefully in a pool.
Which just makes me more nauseous.
I shake my head when Teal’c proffers the first bowl of fish soup to me. Motioning him to drink the soup himself, I set aside the pot of soup, perching it atop a nest of pine needles, then prepare another cooking pot to make hot chocolate.
“What are you making, Harry?” he ventures out at length, amidst sips of the fish soup. His tone is the gentlest that I’ve ever heard from him thus far, which oddly just makes me feel more aweful.
“Hot chocolate,” I manage, after a few deep inhales of the fragrant aroma emanating from the potful of it brewing on the fire. “Mightn’t be quite a match to fish soup, but I thought we could make use of the boost from it. Plus, Tita’s hot chocolate is delicious.”
We fall into chit-chats about Earth foods and drinks in no time at all. I am only aware that I no longer feel so overwhelmed when, carefully, after we’re finished with the soup and the chocolate, Teal’c broaches the upsetting subject again, by asking me if I would like to examine the larva Goa’uld that he has nesting in his belly.
I instead ask him about why he has a larva Goa’uld in his belly, if it hurts him, if he can be taken over by the Goa’uld whether now or when the larva has matured, why he looks and reads as mostly human…. And he answers them all, patiently, like Bill – like a big brother would, judging from the comparison.
By the time we have descended far enough from our resting place to see Black Lodge from amidst the trunks of the pine trees, I feel settled enough to gratefully accept his offer and resume my questions about the Goa’uld.
My. What a clever fellow, indeed. He managed to steer me out of my funk so smoothly that I didn’t realise it until it’s too late.
Dangerous, too. No wonder he is the leader of some armed forces under a blogue whose control spans a galaxy.
But honorable, in his own stoic way, because he willingly returns us to the original topic himself.
If only Dumbledore had been like that….