Hmm, the prompt is "Last Chance" and you were talking about being behind on comments yesterday... you're catching up on them all before the end of the month? :)
The taxman "I don't think I want anyone in my head," said Harry. He held his hands up in front of him as though to protect himself, and Ronnie tensed next to him, as though about to spring on anyone attacking his friend. Genius ignored them both: a side-effect of his protection of Harry from illegilimancy and other controlling spells was that he could practically cast any of them on Harry from anywhere and be guaranteed of success. Of course, it worked the other way round as well, but in his entire existence Genius has only encountered two protectees who'd figured that out, and only one had needed dealing with.
His fingers barely touched his wand, which he didn't even remove from his belt, and as he murmured the words of the spell Harry's mind opened up before him. Some minds opened like flowers; beautiful colours and shapes unfurling outwards into a world of texture, colour and delusion; thoughts flitting around like butterflies and memories sitting in opalascent pools of splendour. Some minds were more hostile and dark, like a threatening ancient jungle holding secrets, where stone temples with traps for the unwary protected deep thoughts and horrific memories. The mind of a taxman opened like a combination lock: precise, guarded, and methodical. Harry's mind was initially like a zen garden: a flat expanse of warm sand with light and a gentle heat from all around and nowhere in particular. Lines appeared in the sand as Genius looked at it, carefully spaced apart with harmony and rhythm, and a mandala seemed to flicker across the sky when he looked up. Then the sand collapsed inwards, rushing down a gigantic funnel and attempting to take Genius with it.
He hovered, holding himself aloft from the ravening, savage howls that were some kind of defensive madness that Harry had lying in wait for the unwary delving into his mind and then, as the sand was flung back out of the hole in a blinding, choking storm that circled and whirled about him, he saw a familiar object flicker in and out of sight at the bottom of the funnel. "The Loom of Doom," he said quietly, making sure that no-one could hear him. Though it felt like he was caught in the worst sandstorm in memory he knew that he was really still stood in the conference room of the Ramshackle in front of two curious, attentive boys. "Damn it, you've connected through to that thing?"
Moving in the storm was easy if you knew the trick of it, and impossible otherwise, and Genius guided himself gently through the abrasive sand and choking dust until he was close enough to see the softly pulsing green tunnel that connected Harry to the Loom of Doom. Threads of Loom-magic snaked through and attached to Harry, and Genius looked over them as carefully as a taxman, checking what order to cut them in. And then he paused, his hand already aloft ready to slice down, and checked again. There, at the core of the thread with the other threads twisted about it, was a jet black thread with hard edges and a way of drawing the eye in that felt uncomfortable and made him sweat.
"Ah," he said, taking a careful step back. "The Dark mark. You're tanglethread aren't you?" Harry's mind closed up away from him and he let himself return to the conference room.
"What?" said Harry, blinking as though nothing had happened. "What's a tanglethread?"
"It's enough to know that strange things will happen around you," said Genius with a sigh. "And that someone, and I think I can guess who, is in for a very nasty surprise if they try controlling you again."
Greg - it was the closest tag I could get to the prompt while also stressing over the online tax site I use not working the night before taxes were due.
Got 'em done eventually though!
Love the descriptions here. Your imagery of the various ways minds open is delightful.
And of course Harry's is not so straightforward as any of the others...
2 comments:
Hmm, the prompt is "Last Chance" and you were talking about being behind on comments yesterday... you're catching up on them all before the end of the month? :)
The taxman
"I don't think I want anyone in my head," said Harry. He held his hands up in front of him as though to protect himself, and Ronnie tensed next to him, as though about to spring on anyone attacking his friend. Genius ignored them both: a side-effect of his protection of Harry from illegilimancy and other controlling spells was that he could practically cast any of them on Harry from anywhere and be guaranteed of success. Of course, it worked the other way round as well, but in his entire existence Genius has only encountered two protectees who'd figured that out, and only one had needed dealing with.
His fingers barely touched his wand, which he didn't even remove from his belt, and as he murmured the words of the spell Harry's mind opened up before him. Some minds opened like flowers; beautiful colours and shapes unfurling outwards into a world of texture, colour and delusion; thoughts flitting around like butterflies and memories sitting in opalascent pools of splendour. Some minds were more hostile and dark, like a threatening ancient jungle holding secrets, where stone temples with traps for the unwary protected deep thoughts and horrific memories. The mind of a taxman opened like a combination lock: precise, guarded, and methodical. Harry's mind was initially like a zen garden: a flat expanse of warm sand with light and a gentle heat from all around and nowhere in particular. Lines appeared in the sand as Genius looked at it, carefully spaced apart with harmony and rhythm, and a mandala seemed to flicker across the sky when he looked up. Then the sand collapsed inwards, rushing down a gigantic funnel and attempting to take Genius with it.
He hovered, holding himself aloft from the ravening, savage howls that were some kind of defensive madness that Harry had lying in wait for the unwary delving into his mind and then, as the sand was flung back out of the hole in a blinding, choking storm that circled and whirled about him, he saw a familiar object flicker in and out of sight at the bottom of the funnel. "The Loom of Doom," he said quietly, making sure that no-one could hear him. Though it felt like he was caught in the worst sandstorm in memory he knew that he was really still stood in the conference room of the Ramshackle in front of two curious, attentive boys. "Damn it, you've connected through to that thing?"
Moving in the storm was easy if you knew the trick of it, and impossible otherwise, and Genius guided himself gently through the abrasive sand and choking dust until he was close enough to see the softly pulsing green tunnel that connected Harry to the Loom of Doom. Threads of Loom-magic snaked through and attached to Harry, and Genius looked over them as carefully as a taxman, checking what order to cut them in. And then he paused, his hand already aloft ready to slice down, and checked again. There, at the core of the thread with the other threads twisted about it, was a jet black thread with hard edges and a way of drawing the eye in that felt uncomfortable and made him sweat.
"Ah," he said, taking a careful step back. "The Dark mark. You're tanglethread aren't you?" Harry's mind closed up away from him and he let himself return to the conference room.
"What?" said Harry, blinking as though nothing had happened. "What's a tanglethread?"
"It's enough to know that strange things will happen around you," said Genius with a sigh. "And that someone, and I think I can guess who, is in for a very nasty surprise if they try controlling you again."
Greg - it was the closest tag I could get to the prompt while also stressing over the online tax site I use not working the night before taxes were due.
Got 'em done eventually though!
Love the descriptions here. Your imagery of the various ways minds open is delightful.
And of course Harry's is not so straightforward as any of the others...
Post a Comment