An Opus Alchymicum Vol 4: The Dæmon's Crucible

A Stag and A Unicorn

Author Note: So after some early criticism of this Volume I have decided to revise it and take it at a slightly different angle. Let it never be said that I don't listen to feedback and review my mistakes. I am only human, and I occasionally err in my judgement. So I have tweaked Hermione's early arc in this instalment, as this drew the most negativity, though there is nothing I can do about my 'plodding plotting' I'm afraid. I'm sorry, but this is just how I write. If you are impatient for immediate resolution and payoff, read something else folks. But if you want to read this fic, scroll down to AOA 4, Version 2!

Peace!

***

At a flat in Central London, in the only room whose window faced out across the ever-flowing waters of the Thames, a young boy was staring, fixated, at the clock on his bedside table. The face and dials were in the traditional shape of the standard roundels of the London Underground, but instead of a red circle and blue line - to represent the Tube and Thames respectively - the whole thing was resplendent in gold and silver, recalling the colours of the unique Merlin Line, the very secretive route of the world's oldest subterranean transit system.

This detail was significant, as this particular Tube line only served the hidden Magical communities of London and outlying areas... and the boy in question was, himself, a wizard.

And Harry Potter was an impatient young wizard at that. The clock hands seemed to be stuck on 11.59 ... and Harry was quite sure it at been 11.59 for at least twelve minutes now. And the reasons for his impatience were taunting him from the shadows just behind his clock, and currently held under close guard by his beautiful snowy owl, Hedwig.

"Can I open them now?" Harry asked again, nodding towards the stack of birthday presents neatly wrapped in purple paper with gold bows on them, that Hedwig was merrily using as a makeshift perch.

Hedwig barked the negative. Harry just frowned at her.

"You only have to wait one more minute," Marici, Harry's golden lioness dæmon, told him. "Be patient, or open the gift from Hagrid if you really cant wait that long."

"I wonder what it is," Harry mused, picking up the heavy square gift that Hagrid had wrapped in thick brown parchment. "It weighs a ton."

Harry idly pulled back the wrapping to reveal the title of a rather bizarre book. It had an unusual cover, one that was made of thick felt or fur, and at the top of the spine of the book was an insignia of sorts, which looked curiously like a beady little eye.

"The Monster Book of Monsters," Harry read. "It's a thoughtful gift, Hagrid, but why would you ... oh wait, there's a note."

Harry picked it up and read.

"Happy birthday, Harry. I hope you like your prezzie. It will come in handy next year. Cant say no more just now, but it's gonna be a fun one.

Have a great day,

Hagrid

P. s. just tickle the spine to calm it down.

Harry scrunched his brow in confusion. "What do you think that means, Chi ... to calm it down? To calm what down?"

"I don't know, Harry," Marici replied in her rolling, purr-like voice. "He can't mean the book, can he?"

"I doubt it," Harry shrugged, lazily flicking open the heavy clasp on the cover ...

... and immediately unleashing mayhem on his bedroom.

The Monster book literally became a monster. Its page edges sharpened to nippy little teeth, which snapped furiously at Harry's fingers where he tried to turn them. Then the book snarled angrily at Harry, before flipping onto its side and scuttling away like a giant furry insect. It knocked over Harry's clock, trampled on the full-scale, matchstick model of Hogwarts that he had been working on all Summer, and ate one of his smelly socks, where Harry's aim for the linen basket had been wayward that morning.