An Opus Alchymicum Vol 4: The Dæmon's Crucible

Home Schooling

Lyra ploughed her way through the heavy snow drifts to reach the peak of the ridge and looked back at the valley below. A forest of silver pine encircled the dark waters of Lake Enara and the flickering torchlight of the two-dozen, randomly arranged log cabins competed with the twinkling stars in a fierce battle to shine the brightest. Lyra smiled at the beauty of the world this night, then looked down at her apprentice, who was trying to decipher how it all worked.

"How are you getting on?" Lyra asked, pleasantly.

She carefully handed Hermione a thermal mug, containing hot tea of an earthly blend, one that the Witches of Lake Enara cultivated themselves, using some process of magic that made a mockery of the cold-weather conditions up here. Neither Lyra nor Hermione had been particularly fond of the tea to begin with, but after a month of forcing it down to stay warm, and with no better brews to be had, they were slowly training their taste buds to not reject the heathery liquid on first contact.

"I think I've found a pattern," Hermione replied, brightly. She showed Lyra the chart of celestial observations that she had been making. "The gold sweeps of the aurora seem to pulse brighter every twelve seconds or so. I don't know what that means, or how it might be important, but it seems fairly regular."

"The number Twelve is of considerable cosmic importance," Lyra replied, sitting next to Hermione on the snow and watching the Northern Lights blaze bright and fierce above them. "It recurs in nature and also in human culture and mysticism. Nobody is quite sure why, but twelve does seem to play a key part in the code of the universe."

Hermione nodded loftily, pretending to understand, when in fact she had no more idea about importance of twelve than of any other number. She imagined all the numbers of the counting system arguing haughtily about which one was the best, though why twelve should be selected above all others was something she could not conceive.

Hermione and Lyra were sat out here on the snow for more than just to find a chilly way to pass the time. Lyra had decided that, since Hermione was a whole world away from school, it might be prudent to restart a course of education that they had only scratched the surface of, at the very start of their acquaintance. Lyra had taken Hermione on as her apprentice, but as yet she hadn't shared very much of her vast knowledge at all.

So that's what they were doing, dipping their toes back into the world of Lyra's expertise.

"So, have the last three years given you any greater insight into Experimental Theology?" Lyra asked, as Hermione made another mark on her celestial chart. "What have your experiences taught you?"

Hermione cocked her head as she considered her answer. "Mainly, I suppose, that Experimental Theology is known as physics in Harry's world."

Harry didn't own that world, of course, but it made for easier conversation for Hermione to refer to it as if he did. In any case, she liked saying his name. It made her warmer and cosier than the acrid tea of Lake Enara.

"But there's a big difference between Physics and Experimental Theology, I think," Hermione went on. "Or maybe it's more that they ignore a big part of it in Harry's world."

"And what do they ignore?" Lyra pressed.

"Well, it's all about fundamental forces, isn't it?" Hermione asked, turning fully to face Lyra. "It's how the universe works. Atomcraft and anbaricity, the building blocks of energy and the universe. Only, it's not just that. Here, we think about life energies, too ... consciousness and spirit and how they connect people ... but I suppose that's because we have dæmons, isn't it? We'd be a bit silly to ignore it when it's slapping us right in the face."

"Quite," Lyra agreed, watching as Hermione tenderly stroked Papageno, whose head was visible beneath Hermione's jacket.

"But then there's Dust as well, which is a whole other confusing thing," Hermione frowned. "It is not from here, but has always been with us. It is omnipotent, yet obedient; conscious, yet the provider of consciousness; it knows the future, but doesn't tell you how to get there, or even if you should. The paradoxes are confusing."