Serpent's Wing 18
More filler stuff, hints of EW approaching, Draco being educated. It's the little things that make life fun.
AC196 Nov-24
The youth’s mental checklist of the morning’s tasks was fifty percent completed by nine. The Weasley twins were proceeding well in their training and their basic fitness levels had increased enough that he was certain they had noticed the difference. It would explain their dedication to the youth’s lessons since they had resumed. The youth had asked, inconvenient as the need to even ask had been, and gained their advice and assistance for technical aides in tutoring Draco Malfoy. He had followed their instructions and, using his own resources when he began his weekly reconnection to the real world, had finalised his preparations for that evening’s tutorial.
All that remained now was his usual analysis of the previous week’s events, trends and communications, something that he would spend some more effort to do that much more thoroughly today. It was not that the youth had a reason to be concerned, as yet none of his flags had come up, but the dreams from the night before had roused more than a little of his old paranoia.
Chiron had had a close call but the design for Deathscythe’s stealth systems had performed satisfactorily, as was only to be expected. There was also an almost suspicious lack of noise from L1 recently. When he followed his hunch, he found the information that told him that Dekim Barton had been keeping an abnormally low profile of late. He instituted several more monitoring programs to focus on the general, specifically, and others to supervise the activities of those around him as well.
There seemed to be no other anomalies that his various watchdog programs had discovered and he decided to tighten his hacks in the event that it was not a lack of alarming events that was the cause of the quiet but rather the deficiency in the programs set to find them. It was while he was retrieving some stored data for the updates that he found the messages.
There were two of them, one from Quatre and one from Duo, unexpected because, aside from Duo’s one attempt at communication months earlier, none of his fellow pilots had done more than cursory searches for him in, what he surmised, was respect for his privacy. The youth opened Quatre’s first. The familiar face of the blond pilot appeared on the screen and began to speak in Arabian.
“Hello Heero, I hope this finds you well and content. We have missed you this past year but I understand your need to disappear into the world, I only ask that you not disappear permanently. I know for a fact that Duo misses you as much, if not more, than I do and that’s a great deal indeed. Trowa is not one for words but I feel that he, too, would be pleased to see you once again. I cannot speak for Wufei, I am afraid that he has followed your own example and disappeared some months back but I am certain that he would also wish you to remember that you are not alone.”
The youth disagreed with that. While he might perceive a rift between himself and his fellow pilots, it was one that he was working with all of his implacable effort to bridge. If the news of Wufei was accurate, and considering the source there was no reason it should not be, then it was obvious to the youth that the other pilot not only saw a great wall between himself and the rest of them, but would be shoring it up himself. The youth respected Wufei and his skills greatly but that did not mean that he did not think the pilot from L5 could not, at times, be even more socially inept than the youth himself.
“I have no doubt that you are monitoring this peace that we all worked so hard to see brought about with the same satisfaction that I feel. We succeeded, Heero. I never had the opportunity to discuss our success with you, vanishing after the final battle as you did, but I would like you to know that you have both my respect and my thanks. I and the entire world are in your debt for your actions. You saved the world, Heero. I hope that you realise this and that it has helped you to lay some of your old demons to rest.”
Quatre must have been talking to Trowa about the youth’s actions after recovering from his abortive attempt to self-destruct.
“We were all scarred by events, Heero. We have all done things both terrible and great. Together, we five changed the world. We used our strength and our dreams to bring about peace and then we stepped back to allow others to nurture the new world that we had created for them. I do not think we made a mistake by doing so. This new future needs individuals dedicated to peace, not soldiers still sworn to war.
“It does not need gundams.”
And so they came to the heart of it. The youth suspected that he already knew what his fellow pilot was going to ask of him and, of all of them, Quatre was perhaps the most perceptive in these regards. And, it was not that he disagreed with what he believed Quatre was about to propose to him.
He recalled the magnificent mecha he had stored away and allowed a stab of regret to pierce his icy control. There had never been any real doubt of what his answer would be in the event that this was requested of him but a part of him still hesitated, whether it was because he was attached to his gundam, which was not something he would deny, or because of lingering shreds of paranoid disbelief in the current piece. However, the attachment could not take precedence over the necessities of life and paranoia could not be allowed to interfere with what this peace required.
He had to have faith that it was strong enough. He did have faith in Relena and Une and her Preventers. And he had faith in the five of them. Even without their gundams, they would preserve the peace.
“Duo and I discussed it and we have arranged a transport that will send the Gundams into the sun, a fitting burial for them, I believe. Trowa has agreed, Heavyarms will join Sandrock and Deathscythe. All that remains is for you and Wufei to give me your answers.”
The cherubic face looked out of the monitor beseechingly. “Please, Heero, it is time. We cannot expect a peaceful future to prosper if we cannot let go of our bloody past.”
And when the lessons of the past were also forgotten? What then?
The more the youth considered it, the more he believed it was a bad idea, that it was not the time to destroy the gundams. He had, however, decided. He had faith.
“Contact me, Heero. To talk, or to even to argue if you desire. I look forward to hearing from you. Quatre Winner, pilot 04, out.”
The youth wondered at Quatre’s recklessness in sending this to him as it not only mentioned their identities, although only Quatre really had anything to loose should he need to abandon his, but it stated clearly that they each still possessed their gundams and that they were considering their destruction. It occurred to the youth that the world might yet benefit by believing that the pilots and their gundams were still out there, ready to act should the peace break down, whether or not it was the truth. At the very least, that belief might make potential dissenters think twice. Quatre was risking a lot with both his scheme and his communication.
The youth re-examined the security protocols encoding the message and had to admit that they were sufficiently tight for even his standard paranoia. Not, that he had expected anything less from Quatre with a message like this. He used the same protocols for his reply, with a couple of his personal modifications, to send a simple set of coordinates and a time.
Duo’s message was similarly secured but far less formal in an almost incoherent mixture of English and Japanese that only someone familiar with the speaker would be able to interpret with any ease.
“Hey Hee-chan!”
The youth found himself simultaneously wanting to touch that feckless face with affection and throttle its owner for his questionable choice of address.
“By now you’ll have heard from Q-ball and so you’ll know what we’re plannin’. I hope you’ll sign on for it, man, ‘cos I gotta say, it makes sense. It cuts me up to even think it, but my buddy ‘Scythe is only a threat to everything, now. There are a bunch of high-ranked dicks that have been mutterin’ about our gundanium friends recently and, despite their utter lack of brains and balls, even I have to admit that they make a couple of good points. We don’t need them any more and having them is just like puttin’ out a red flag to a bull or somethin’. I think you’ll agree with us, or I hope you will cos that’ll mean we’re probly right since you’re never wrong, so I’ve been helping Q and his merry band fix up a ship to carry our buddies to a fittin’ pier.
“We still haven’t been able to find Wu-bear, by the way, so if you know where he’s run off to, give me a hint, huh, cos I swear I can’t find him for the life of me.”
Wufei’s disappearance had been mentioned by both Quatre and Duo now and that raised mental alarms in the youth. While neither of his fellows seemed to find it odd, the youth knew that it was. He was not able to explain it at that moment, but he expected after a short time to mull over all the data, the reason would come to him. Until then, he’d trust his subconscious and send out some searches.
“I’ve been moonlightin’ with Hildie or with Howwie and the Sweepers, as the mood struck me but I think you already know about that, just a hunch, y’know, cos of the little traces I find on the net occasionally. Anyway, Hee-chan-my-man, watcha been up to, eh? It’s been nearly a year, y’know? It’d be nice to get some word from you and those frickin’ hacks you set up in Hildie’s comps don’t count. Real communication, dig it, Hee-man? Voice’n’face’n’the works! Mano-et-mano would be great, but there are vidcoms all over the Earthsphere, as we both should know ‘cos we’ve tapped or redirected enough of them, right?”
Duo’s electronic recording continued to ramble for another few minutes. The youth listened contentedly as his sometimes-partner talked without really saying anything. It was satisfying merely to listen to the animated voice, he had missed it more than he had realised.
The babble eventually wound down with, “Well, I guess I’ll leave it here and if I don’t hear from you within a week, count on me hacking your precious laptop, hear me Hee-chan? You think I can’t? Hah! You’re seriously underestimating the hacking skills of a righteous Shinigami! Don’t think that just ‘cos I haven’t gone further than this contact that I can’t. I’ve been waiting for you to make a move, buddy, but I’m sick of waiting. This is your final warning, Hee-chan. If you don’t get in touch with me, I will find you and then I’ll descend upon you like a plague of whoopee cushions and detonators! Ja ne!”
The youth had to chuckle. Perhaps it was time to open the lines of communication. He was still unskilled at interpersonal interaction but surely he could manage a correspondence that was not a mission report by now. He thought for a moment and sent a one word reply, ‘baka’.
That would likely provoke said baka, but the youth was confident that Duo would not find him as easily as the braided-one thought. Unless Duo happened to be another of the incredibly rare magic-using colonists, it was almost impossible that he would find the youth without enlisting outside help and that would not occur until the other pilot had exhausted all avenues that he could possibly search on his own. Then, no doubt, he would turn to Quatre and, then, the youth faced more probability of being located. Albeit a very small one, as it was still unlikely even Quatre would consider the possibility of the youth being a magic-user and one currently attending Hogwarts.
Besides which, they would no doubt have the opportunity to talk in seven days when the youth sent them Wing Zero. He would have to remote pilot the gundam into range for them to take control, which would undoubtedly mean a period of contact with their own systems. He may as well use that to renew those valued connections.
Until then, he had much planning to perform and enact. He would need to find a location from which to make the link to Wing Zero, a place that he could be certain would have a completely clear connection. He had better inform Gringotts of his plans and make arrangements for the concealment of the launch, if necessary. Not to mention that the time he had quickly calculated, decided because it was the most convenient taking into account the different time zones the three were in, was rather early in the morning and it would take over three hours for the exchange to be made. He was going to have to talk to the twins… He also had to make time to work with Malfoy. It was going to be a busy week.
Which would be a good thing, he decided after a little consideration. His nerves were still wound tight and his subconscious sending him mixed signals. Anxiety and conviction churned to inspire a small headache, no doubt occurring because of his already tired state.
By this time next week, he would no longer be in possession of a gundam to pilot.
He hoped it would be a good thing.
He truly did.
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AC196 Nov-27
Draco waited for Maxwell to show up with a respectable amount of forbearance, or so he thought. Not that the mudblood was really late, but any time that Draco found himself waiting for someone like Duo Maxwell was time that could have been better spent elsewhere. That was what he believed, anyway, but he was restraining those instincts. If he could only be certain that he felt that way and it not because of his wand…
Draco shook the incipient depression off before it took root. He could not continue to second guess every action like that, it would cripple him. If he did not, however, how could he discern whether or not he did have a problem? Bloody paradoxes…
Thinking of paradoxes, he deliberately recalled the mudblood that was the source of his. Maxwell had received an owl that morning. It was his first since term had started and Draco had to admit, to himself at least, that he was incredibly curious as to who was corresponding with the first year mudblood and what about. It had been an official looking letter. Draco hadn’t been able to see the seal on the parchment clearly but the glimpse he had caught had told him it was large and intricate. The eagleowl that had carried it had been a handsome bird, one that looked as though it was better trained than his father’s as it didn’t deviate from its target. It had landed on the mudblood’s offered wrist, which had carried it remarkably well for such a skinny brat, more proof of that hidden strength, and had offered its message to Maxwell, alone. Fletcher had attempted to snatch it away and the resultant fuss had resulted in Fletcher being sent to the hospital wing with a bleeding gouge from the vicious peck and Maxwell pocketing the parchment without anyone getting a good look at it.
Idiot, one simply didn’t do that while the post owl still had the letter, especially not if it was an eagleowl. Not if you valued your health, at any rate.
The mudblood in question chose that moment to appear from no where and Draco started. It was shameful that he could be caught so off-guard while the mudblood never was.
“Maxwell,” he greeted neutrally. This was their fourth tutorial, Draco wasn’t counting the first, abortive, one, and the practice meant that, while he didn’t sound welcoming, he was no longer so overtly hostile. Not that the mudblood would care if he was, but Draco did. He was not going to bugger this second chance up because the barmy codger in the tower decided to torture him with one of his least favourite people. Maxwell wasn’t Potter, so this humiliation could be borne if it kept him out of Azkaban.
Maxwell nodded abruptly at him and sat down opposite of Draco. His eyes lingered almost unnoticeably on the wand Draco had very deliberately placed at the centre of the desk, almost out of reach to him when he was sitting. All of Draco’s upbringing argued against that, everything that had ever been trained into him agreed that a wizard should always have his wand at hand, but Draco had decided before his second attempt at a tutorial that he would do this. It was proof to himself and the mudblood that he was not dependent on his wand. If only he could find a conclusive way to prove that he was not being manipulated by it, either.
Resolutely, Draco unrolled a parchment and displayed it for Maxwell to see. “This is the list of the terms I did not understand,” he told the other. Maxwell had made him listen to something that was supposed to be a recording of a muggle conversation and Draco hadn’t comprehended almost a third of it, and they had supposedly been speaking English! Maxwell reached across and took it from him. Blue eyes flicked over it so quickly that Draco was certain they could not have actually read it all. Maxwell proved him wrong.
The blue eyes met his own and held them intently. “Hn. Most of these relate to technology or phrase which, as you know them, would include specific references to magic.”
“You don’t say,” Draco retorted sarcastically. He hadn’t thought about that, though, and he should have. If muggles did not have magic, they certainly wouldn’t be using words and phrases that referred to it.
“Do you wish to discuss them?”
Annoyed, Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course I don’t,” he sneered, “But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t going to anyway.”
The other teen was unaffected by Draco’s impatience and Draco swallowed back a flash of irritation. Maxwell had been nothing but calm and reasonable since he had apologised and, to be honest, it was irking Draco far more than it should have. At least Maxwell’s previous subtle antagonism had shown that he was human. For all Draco could read from him now, he could have been a golem. Compared to now, Maxwell’s original stony façade was a feast of expressions and Draco did not like not knowing anything about what those near him were thinking.
“Hn. Then I shall begin. Television is a common household appliance made to receive signals that it’s designed to interpret and then display as images and sounds. Both entertainment and educational programs are available and most channels have at least one news program that reports on current affairs.”
“Wait,” Draco interrupted, “Program? Channel?”
“A program is a show…” Maxwell paused to consider for a second and then continued with a frown. “It may be easier for you to visualise a program as a pre-recorded play that can be broadcast over and over as often as desired. Channels are on distinctive frequencies and are owned and run by different organisations although one organisation can own more than one channel. What program a channel shows will depend upon the management of the organisation.”
Draco tried to picture what Maxwell was describing. “How many channels are there? How many programs do each have?”
“There are hundreds of channels across the world and each channel airs thousands of programs,” Maxwell told him frankly.
So many? Draco could not believe it. “There aren’t that many plays in the world!” he protested.
Maxwell didn’t back down. “You are incorrect,” he stated flatly, “There is a constant demand for them and so there are those that attempt to meet it. The quality of programs does vary greatly but the industry flourishes, especially now that the war is over.”
“There’s an entire industry for it?” Draco was incredulous. An entire industry was dedicated to acting? How could they fund it? Surely there couldn’t be many individuals that would waste their money on such foolishness.
“Aa. A very rich one.”
Rich?
Well that would explain why more than a small number of individuals would disgrace themselves and their families by becoming actors… “How rich?” he asked curiously.
“I do not know. I believe the more successful individuals have been counted amongst the top one hundred in the world.” Maxwell apparently didn’t care as his eyes showed a faint cast of disinterest.
Draco didn’t care if it was boring to the mudblood, he wanted to know how muggles could become rich by acting. “But who pays them…”
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AC196 Dec-01
“So yeah, that’s why our dad’s car is living wild in the Forbidden Forest,” George finished telling the youth his story.
The youth regarded him sceptically. “You are saying your car went feral…”
Fred shrugged. “Dad had been tinkering in it a lot, we never know exactly what he’s doing with his muggle gizmos so it might have been something that he’d done to it, an animation spell or something…”
“Like whatever’s on the sorting hat,” George suggested.
“Could be,” Fred agree with another shrug, “Doesn’t really matter now, does it, because the car’s gone and no one’s seen it since, have they?”
“Hn,” the youth grunted, considering what they’d told him. He believed that they thought they were telling the truth and, considering some of the other things he’d observed in the last few months, an inanimate object becoming self-aware was not that impossible. Even before he’d learned of magic, the youth had often had the impression that Wing had been more than just a machine and then, when Zero had been installed, he had no doubt. A ford anglia was hardly on the same level as a gundam but the youth supposed the same principles applied.
More importantly, perhaps, was the evidence that supported the youth’s private theories about the nature of magic in and around Hogwarts and its effects on the function of technology. His theories were not conclusively proved, of course. After all, the youth was more than scientist enough to believe that no theory could ever be conclusively proven, they could only not be disproved.
So, what could the youth do with this new information?
He watched the twins run through a kata as he thought about it. He was going to need some components.
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AC196 Dec-03
“That’s impossible,” Draco snapped unequivocally, “There’s no way that muggles could do that!”
“It is not impossible.” Maxwell was being his typically obstinate self. This time he was maintaining that muggles could use something called the inter-netting to find almost any kind of information within seconds. No books were needed, just one of those kom-pew-tir things and a connection. To what, Draco was still unclear on, but he thought he’d grasped the rest of it pretty well.
He glared his best glare at Maxwell and leaned back, folding his arms stubbornly as he did so. “If muggles could do that, there’d be no need for them to have libraries any more. They’d never need to pick up a book again! And I know for a fact that Granger still lives in the library. If that was possible, she’d have her own lapt-topt and would be even more of a know-it-all than she is already. She doesn’t and so it isn’t!” Granger was that anally retentive that Draco felt his reasoning was perfectly justified.
Maxwell snorted. “Your logic is flawed.”
“Oh?” Draco asked archly, “How?”
“Electronic appliances do not operate on Hogwarts grounds. Whether or not Granger possesses her own laptop is irrelevant, she could not make use of it here, anyway.”
“Oh,” Draco repeated, this time less confrontationally. “Why?”
An actual expression appeared on Maxwell’s stony face, one of thoughtfulness. “Magic interferes with electronics.”
“That’s just more proof that everything muggles do is outdone by wizards.” Draco smirked. The truth could not be denied.
“Iie,” Maxwell argued, “I believe that magic behaves similarly to magnetism in that magical fields, like magnet fields, interfere with electrical currents. Hogwarts is encased by a particularly strong field that acts as hindrance to any appliances within. I believe any devices that are sufficiently buffered from such environmental hazards, electrical appliances would work on school grounds. The problem, in that instance, would be were to get power from.”
Draco paused in thought for a second as his curiosity raised its head again. “What do muggles use for power?”
“Electricity.”
“Eleck-triss-ittie?” Draco repeated ignorantly. What, in Merlin’s name, kind of power was that?
The youth frowned at him and then used the rest of their tutorial to give Draco a lecture on what he termed basic physics.
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AC196 Dec-07
It was late but not yet past curfew. The youth would easily be able to make it back to the common room before eleven if he kept his current task brief. His fingers worked quickly, long since accustomed to this kind of work and it took him only a few more seconds to make the connection between his laptop and the nearest satellite… from the top of the astronomy tower.
The youth watched the data that scrolled down the small screen with satisfaction. He made a few minor adjustments, but that was just the fine tuning. With a few quick commands, he shut the computer down and packed it and the tiny satellite dish back into the carry case.
It had been difficult, but he had managed, with the help of two house-elves and some of Gringotts’ goblins, to retrieve the necessary components to make this work. He had most of what he had needed in his possession already, if not immediately at hand. He had needed to radiation-proof his laptop on occasion before, not least when working with it on the Peacemillion, and most of the equipment he had required had still been stored in his gundam, along with the security devices he was going to use and a few other items that he wished to salvage. It had taken little effort to have the goblins, at his request, allow two house-elves to retrieve the list of items he’d carefully described to them.
The satchel he usually carried the laptop in strained usually due to the extra equipment he’d had to attach but the extra weight was negligible to him. What that weight would allow him to accomplish with complete confidence in his precision and accuracy was not negligible. Although it was not the location he would actually use, he could, if he desired, remote pilot Wing Zero to her rendezvous with Duo and Quatre from the great hall… if he desired.
He thought he’d just do it from the Forbidden Forest instead.