"Because it's no longer quite so dangerous."
"..."
After a few seconds of silence, Bernadette asked gravely: "Do you know where my father is now?"
"I do."
The priest shook his head. "But I can't tell you. Before you've advanced to Angel, setting foot on that primordial island would not only kill you — it could bring calamity to the outside world."
"So — advance to a higher Sequence as quickly as you can."
He looked at Bernadette — and yet seemed to be looking at something beyond her — before vanishing.
That single glance was enough for Vincent to be virtually certain: the Priest knew about his existence. But He hadn't called it out directly, leaving His intentions completely opaque.
And if the Priest knew, the Evernight Goddess absolutely knew as well. The question was — why hadn't She made a single move?
Bernadette stared at the little Wishing Lamp in her hand. After a brief hesitation, she gently rubbed the surface covered in arcane symbols. The wick ignited silently.
A few seconds later, it went out again.
No golden glow. No golden figure. No djinn.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, incredulous. The wick lit — and promptly died.
After several attempts, Bernadette was forced to conclude: this Grade 0 Sealed Artifact was very likely broken.
"The Wishing Lamp is broken?"
Vincent couldn't believe it. In his recollection, even true gods couldn't destroy this thing — because it had been created by the previous Lord of Mysteries. Its position was supposed to be above that of true deities.
If it really was broken, who had done it? And how?
More importantly — if the Wishing Lamp was broken, what about the djinn inside?
"Can this thing even be repaired?"
He asked, already knowing the answer.
Bernadette shook her head. "The Wishing Lamp is Sealed Artifact number 0-05. According to legend, even gods cannot destroy it. Now that it's damaged, even if it can be repaired, it would take someone on the level of the God of Steam and Machinery at the very least."
After a pause, she added: "Oh — I think I know who that priest was."
"Hm?"
"Father mentioned His name in his diary. Mentioned the organisation He founded. And specifically warned that His name must never be spoken aloud, or He'd notice."
Bernadette's voice dropped. "The legendary son of the Creator. Adam. A being whose power is only a hair's breadth from that of a true god."
"Didn't you just say you can't speak His name?"
"He only just left. Even if He notices, so what?"
"Fair point…"
She waved open a rift to the spirit world and stepped through. "Let's head back to the Dawn. Give the last Broker slot to Crunch, and then it's time to advance to Sequence 6."
"This late at night?"
"Tomorrow it'll be your turn. You can't wait another three days, can you?"
...
Harry Potter world.
When the ancient castle was once again blanketed in thick snow, the Christmas the children had been eagerly anticipating was right around the corner.
The little ones, bundled up until they resembled waddling penguins, tottered and tumbled across the snowy grounds — snowball fights, laughter, unbridled joy.
Most young witches and wizards would be heading home to spend the holiday with family. The castle would empty out and fall quiet.
Harry, naturally, wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys. Ron had stayed behind to keep him company.
First thing in the morning, Ron opened his eyes to find Harry carefully tying ribbons on three small gift boxes. "Ron — you're up."
Harry held out a present. "Happy Christmas."
Ron started, then quickly grabbed a palm-sized box from his own bed. "This is for you…"
He ducked his head, slightly sheepish. His pocket money barely covered his own needs, let alone saving for gifts. All he'd managed were some sweets.
"Oh, brilliant — I've been wanting to try this toffee!"
Harry opened the box, popped a piece in his mouth, and beamed.
Ron unwrapped Harry's present — also an assortment of sweets, though rather more of them. The fact that it was just candy actually made him feel better about his own gift.
"Who are those two for?"
He asked through a mouthful of sour plum candy.
"One for Mr. Moriarty, and one for Professor Snape."
The one for Mr. Moriarty was pet treats — Vincent had told Harry ahead of time. The one for Snape was a photograph of his parents — also at Vincent's suggestion.
They then opened their other presents: a flute from Hagrid, a coin from the Dursleys, a Dragon Quest game cartridge from Mr. Moriarty, and something silvery-grey that flowed like liquid.
"That's an Invisibility Cloak!"
Ron recognised it immediately as something extraordinarily valuable.
Harry picked up the note that had fallen from within: Your father left this in my care before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Merry Christmas to you.
But it wasn't signed. Harry scratched his head for quite a while, unable to work out who'd sent it.
"Could it be from Snape?" Ron guessed. "He's your godfather, and he was apparently close with your parents — so maybe your dad left the cloak with him."
Well…
Actually, Professor Snape and his father had been practically mortal enemies.
But Mr. Moriarty had mentioned that when his parents were killed by Voldemort, Snape had apparently been the first to arrive on the scene — so it wasn't impossible.
"I'll go ask," Harry said. "And bring him his present while I'm at it."
"Uh — you go ahead. I'd rather not get points docked again for no reason."
"Alright."
Despite Vincent's interference turning Snape into Harry's "godfather" — which had at least taken the edge off Harry's antagonism compared to canon — Harry had to admit: his godfather was, much of the time, genuinely insufferable.
Ten minutes later, Harry navigated the castle's maze-like staircases and arrived at Snape's office. He knocked gently. "Professor Snape? Are you there?"
No answer.
"Maybe he's gone home for the holidays?"
Harry waited a moment, then headed for Vincent's office. "Mr. Moriarty — are you in?"
The door opened. Harry immediately thrust out his gift. "Happy Christmas! Mr. Moriarty — and your kitty!"
"Happy Christmas."
Bernadette nodded. "Come in."
"Okay~"
Harry walked in and immediately spotted a dark, bat-like figure standing coldly in the room. Snape, upon Harry's entrance, drawled in his trademark sardonic tone: "Oh? Bright and early, coming to butter up Moriarty, are we, Mr. Saviour?"
"..."
Harry hadn't expected Snape to be here, but he quickly produced the gift box. "Happy Christmas, Professor Snape."
"..."
Snape's expression seized up. He fidgeted with his fingers, then coldly dug a small vial from his pocket and tossed it over. "Happy Christmas."
The vial was unassuming, but it contained Felix Felicis — an extremely rare and precious potion. Having given it away on impulse, Snape felt a twinge of regret.
So he turned to Bernadette and huffed: "And what gift will you be giving Potter, Professor Moriarty?"
"Mr. Moriarty already gave me mine," Harry said quickly.
Bernadette walked to her desk, opened a drawer, and took out a notebook. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
It was her recent notes and insights from studying Ancient Runes. She was quite confident that following them would make studying the subject far more efficient.
Snape had, in three sentences, manoeuvred things so that the gift she ended up giving was study material. Harry felt a pang of resignation — it was like a Chinese kid getting a set of exam prep books for New Year's.
To be continued…
Guys, do check out my friend's new fic titled as I, A Vitrumite, Have The World's Strongest Chatgroup...? It is really enjoyable!
Advance 100 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus