help_haiti, part one
Well, here's somewhere I haven't been in a while.
One of my help_haiti requests was for Harry Potter/Good Omens; this is the result.
Thwarted by a Metaphysic Puzzle
“So it seems we have... something of a problem.”
“Have we, my dear?” Aziraphale didn’t even look up from the recently acquired first edition he was patching up,* but at least he wasn’t commenting on the fact that Crowley had once again terrorised the door into forgetting it was supposed to be locked, and didn’t he have something else to be doing that was not here? Crowley sighed despite himself - though at least he was breathing at the moment, which somewhat justified it - and carried on.
“Yeah. It turns out a certain... Someone got rather more carried away with the idea of children than anyone thought - and I do mean anyone, or they probably would have given me both the little buggers to swap around.”
“Oh, my.” Aziraphale finally looked up from the book. “That is something of a problem. Do you know what happened to the... second child?”
“Got out somehow. I’m still trying to get all of this sorted out, so I don’t have the particulars. Found and adopted, from what I can tell, and... well, this is where things get complicated.”
“As though a second Antichrist running around Creation weren’t complicated enough?”
Crowley rolled his eyes, though only Aziraphale would be likely to see it behind his sunglasses. “The kid’s apparently got an overactive imagination. I’m inclined to say it comes with the territory, after Adam - but anyway. What this boils down to is, we’ve got mythical creatures appearing out of nowhere and running around Scotland, and I won’t be surprised if we’re expected to put a stop to it sooner or later. Or more likely, in my case, encourage the kid to do what Adam wouldn’t.”
Aziraphale sniffed (really, the angel was such a being of the Victorian era, sometimes). “Really, my dear, you can’t expect me to drop everything and go gallivanting across the countryside chasing after unicorns and whatnot.”
“From what I’ve gathered, it’s not the unicorns that are the problem, angel.”
*Oddly, the angel never seemed to consider using his innate ability to fix things for such a selfish purpose to be cheating. Crowley had considered pointing out the technicality before, but always ended up deciding against it; Aziraphale would likely keep doing it anyway.
***
Anathema hated doing the practical lessons, but all of Hogwarts seemed to expect that there would be at least a few of those. She was beginning to develop an extremely low opinion of her predecessor in the teaching post; really, had the woman done anything more than encourage impressionable children to look for doom and gloom around every corner? Agnes would have had words for the woman, to be sure.
She hadn’t intended to follow in her uncle’s footsteps, but fate (or possibly Agnes) had seemed determined to get her through the door to Hogwarts at some point in her life. It so happened that there was an opening, after they finished blowing each other to smithereens over some silly notion about bloodlines, and the new headmistress quite liked the sound of someone who specialised in the interpretation of prophecies much more than making them.
She’d lost a number of students in the first week, when they learned Divination wasn’t going to be an easy pass any longer, but that suited Anathema perfectly well; she preferred the students who were paying proper attention to the subject matter, and might learn something useful for the next time someone prophesied about the downfall of a Dark Lord or some such nonsense.
She didn’t expect anyone to see anything unusual in crystal balls; her family didn’t see the need for that sort of artifice, when it came to looking toward the future, one of several reasons the Devices often home-schooled rather than inflict Hogwarts upon their children. But one of them - a girl who seemed to be lost in the clouds on her better days - mentioned something about a large black automobile, and it gave Anathema pause, so she asked the girl to stay after class.
“Is something wrong, Professor?”
“Not as such, Miss Lovegood,” she said. “I was only wondering - that car you mentioned. Can you tell me anything else about it?”
“Well, it was a large black auto. It didn’t look like most of the ones you see in London these days, either. Why, do you know someone with an auto like that?”
“I... did, once. But I can’t think of what might bring them here.”
The girl - Luna - shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to see the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. I found one out near the forest the other day, you know. I don’t know that they entirely live up to my expectations, but it’s still quite nice to know I’m right.”
Anathema frowned; something about the girl’s speech had always sounded a little familiar, but she hadn’t been able to place it until now. “You wouldn’t happen to know an Adam Young, would you?”
“I don’t think so, no. There’s no one by that name here, in any case. Was that all, Professor?”
“I... rather think it is. You’re free to go, Miss Lovegood. I’ll see you next week.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Luna smiled and left the classroom - no longer the stuffy tower that Anathema’s predecessor had favored, but a far more sensible ground-floor classroom - and Anathema sighed. Of course, she had no way of fact-checking this for herself; she was sure the manuscript that Newt had burned wasn’t the only copy of the second book Agnes had written, but she had yet to come across another one.
But if Luna’s crystal ball were on to something, she might well have a couple of experts to consult on the situation here soon enough.
***
“Teaching? How absolutely lovely for you, my dear. I’m so glad you found a use for your particular talent.”
Anathema shrugged, and poured some tea, hoping the librarian didn’t catch them with a drink in the stacks; while she suspected that either of her guests would... take care of the problem in short order, she had no desire to hear the firestorm before they could.
“It passes the time,” she said, “and Newt’s capacity for technology doesn’t get in the way as much, out here. What brings the two of you to the area?”
The one with the sunglasses looked at his cup of tea for a moment, then smirked a little and picked it up. “We may have another... Adam-shaped problem. There’s certainly things running around up here that weren’t on-- well, that are unusual even by local standards.”
“Like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, for instance?”
The plump one frowned. “Is that what that was? Quite the unusual name, I must say.”
The one with the sunglasses glowered at his tea again. “I don’t care what’s crumpled, it better not go near my car again, or - anyway. Yes, exactly like that. And I don’t know whether anyone’s going to try to make her do... what Adam didn’t.”
“It won’t work,” Anathema said, eyeing the entrance to the Restricted Section. “Luna’s far too fascinated by the world to do any active harm to it. Besides, if she’d wanted to, I think she would have had the perfect opportunity last summer, from the sound of things.”
Both of her guests visibly relaxed, at that news, and not for the first time, Anathema wondered just whose side they were on. They stayed long enough to finish their tea, and then the one with the sunglasses got too worried about the possible condition of his car to stay indoors any longer. Anathema was frankly a bit surprised that they had managed to drive within a kilometer of the place, never mind close enough to encounter a manifestation of Luna’s wild imagination - but she’d seen stranger things happen, in her lifetime.
One of my help_haiti requests was for Harry Potter/Good Omens; this is the result.
Thwarted by a Metaphysic Puzzle
“So it seems we have... something of a problem.”
“Have we, my dear?” Aziraphale didn’t even look up from the recently acquired first edition he was patching up,* but at least he wasn’t commenting on the fact that Crowley had once again terrorised the door into forgetting it was supposed to be locked, and didn’t he have something else to be doing that was not here? Crowley sighed despite himself - though at least he was breathing at the moment, which somewhat justified it - and carried on.
“Yeah. It turns out a certain... Someone got rather more carried away with the idea of children than anyone thought - and I do mean anyone, or they probably would have given me both the little buggers to swap around.”
“Oh, my.” Aziraphale finally looked up from the book. “That is something of a problem. Do you know what happened to the... second child?”
“Got out somehow. I’m still trying to get all of this sorted out, so I don’t have the particulars. Found and adopted, from what I can tell, and... well, this is where things get complicated.”
“As though a second Antichrist running around Creation weren’t complicated enough?”
Crowley rolled his eyes, though only Aziraphale would be likely to see it behind his sunglasses. “The kid’s apparently got an overactive imagination. I’m inclined to say it comes with the territory, after Adam - but anyway. What this boils down to is, we’ve got mythical creatures appearing out of nowhere and running around Scotland, and I won’t be surprised if we’re expected to put a stop to it sooner or later. Or more likely, in my case, encourage the kid to do what Adam wouldn’t.”
Aziraphale sniffed (really, the angel was such a being of the Victorian era, sometimes). “Really, my dear, you can’t expect me to drop everything and go gallivanting across the countryside chasing after unicorns and whatnot.”
“From what I’ve gathered, it’s not the unicorns that are the problem, angel.”
*Oddly, the angel never seemed to consider using his innate ability to fix things for such a selfish purpose to be cheating. Crowley had considered pointing out the technicality before, but always ended up deciding against it; Aziraphale would likely keep doing it anyway.
***
Anathema hated doing the practical lessons, but all of Hogwarts seemed to expect that there would be at least a few of those. She was beginning to develop an extremely low opinion of her predecessor in the teaching post; really, had the woman done anything more than encourage impressionable children to look for doom and gloom around every corner? Agnes would have had words for the woman, to be sure.
She hadn’t intended to follow in her uncle’s footsteps, but fate (or possibly Agnes) had seemed determined to get her through the door to Hogwarts at some point in her life. It so happened that there was an opening, after they finished blowing each other to smithereens over some silly notion about bloodlines, and the new headmistress quite liked the sound of someone who specialised in the interpretation of prophecies much more than making them.
She’d lost a number of students in the first week, when they learned Divination wasn’t going to be an easy pass any longer, but that suited Anathema perfectly well; she preferred the students who were paying proper attention to the subject matter, and might learn something useful for the next time someone prophesied about the downfall of a Dark Lord or some such nonsense.
She didn’t expect anyone to see anything unusual in crystal balls; her family didn’t see the need for that sort of artifice, when it came to looking toward the future, one of several reasons the Devices often home-schooled rather than inflict Hogwarts upon their children. But one of them - a girl who seemed to be lost in the clouds on her better days - mentioned something about a large black automobile, and it gave Anathema pause, so she asked the girl to stay after class.
“Is something wrong, Professor?”
“Not as such, Miss Lovegood,” she said. “I was only wondering - that car you mentioned. Can you tell me anything else about it?”
“Well, it was a large black auto. It didn’t look like most of the ones you see in London these days, either. Why, do you know someone with an auto like that?”
“I... did, once. But I can’t think of what might bring them here.”
The girl - Luna - shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to see the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. I found one out near the forest the other day, you know. I don’t know that they entirely live up to my expectations, but it’s still quite nice to know I’m right.”
Anathema frowned; something about the girl’s speech had always sounded a little familiar, but she hadn’t been able to place it until now. “You wouldn’t happen to know an Adam Young, would you?”
“I don’t think so, no. There’s no one by that name here, in any case. Was that all, Professor?”
“I... rather think it is. You’re free to go, Miss Lovegood. I’ll see you next week.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Luna smiled and left the classroom - no longer the stuffy tower that Anathema’s predecessor had favored, but a far more sensible ground-floor classroom - and Anathema sighed. Of course, she had no way of fact-checking this for herself; she was sure the manuscript that Newt had burned wasn’t the only copy of the second book Agnes had written, but she had yet to come across another one.
But if Luna’s crystal ball were on to something, she might well have a couple of experts to consult on the situation here soon enough.
***
“Teaching? How absolutely lovely for you, my dear. I’m so glad you found a use for your particular talent.”
Anathema shrugged, and poured some tea, hoping the librarian didn’t catch them with a drink in the stacks; while she suspected that either of her guests would... take care of the problem in short order, she had no desire to hear the firestorm before they could.
“It passes the time,” she said, “and Newt’s capacity for technology doesn’t get in the way as much, out here. What brings the two of you to the area?”
The one with the sunglasses looked at his cup of tea for a moment, then smirked a little and picked it up. “We may have another... Adam-shaped problem. There’s certainly things running around up here that weren’t on-- well, that are unusual even by local standards.”
“Like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, for instance?”
The plump one frowned. “Is that what that was? Quite the unusual name, I must say.”
The one with the sunglasses glowered at his tea again. “I don’t care what’s crumpled, it better not go near my car again, or - anyway. Yes, exactly like that. And I don’t know whether anyone’s going to try to make her do... what Adam didn’t.”
“It won’t work,” Anathema said, eyeing the entrance to the Restricted Section. “Luna’s far too fascinated by the world to do any active harm to it. Besides, if she’d wanted to, I think she would have had the perfect opportunity last summer, from the sound of things.”
Both of her guests visibly relaxed, at that news, and not for the first time, Anathema wondered just whose side they were on. They stayed long enough to finish their tea, and then the one with the sunglasses got too worried about the possible condition of his car to stay indoors any longer. Anathema was frankly a bit surprised that they had managed to drive within a kilometer of the place, never mind close enough to encounter a manifestation of Luna’s wild imagination - but she’d seen stranger things happen, in her lifetime.