Backdated forever

[byrightsinhell]

Who: Lucius Malfoy and Sebastian LeMat
What: Well, not being friends, that's what.
Where: Hellsing Headquarters and thereabouts.
When: After the Bad Blood plot, before the Harvest Festival at some point.
Notes: They are big nerds, please ignore them.
Warnings:


After talking with Sol, Sebastian had spent some time on his own, working through and digesting what he’d been learning but now he feels that he needs to talk it over with someone from his own world. Ideally, somewhere with a stronger foundation in magical theory and that means tracking down Malfoy.

Malfoy is not hard to find, at least not at Hellsing headquarters. He’s not gone so much Narcissa could accuse him of neglecting her, but aside from that, he’s at work more than he isn’t. Partly because being at home won’t accomplish anything toward the goal of getting home; partly because the townhouse is hosting his alternate and several post-Azkaban Lestranges.

He’s taken a corner for himself, and is working out a modification that will let wards apply to objects, not just places.

Sebastian knocks against the doorframe gently to announce his presence without being too disruptive, "‘lo, Malfoy, have you done lunch yet? I need to borrow your mind for a bit."

He looks up and smiles a bit; the new arrivals have worn him some, but life has been mainly quiet for awhile. "I haven’t, and I could probably stand a bit of a break. Now?"

"If you’d care to." Velcro wuffles and trots over to help Malfoy get ready to go for lunch, where ‘help’ means snuffling at him and generally looking smug.

Lucius stands, placing his notes in order and then tucking him away on his person. (Muggle clothes proved to be a challenge to enchant properly, but he’s managed.) "Well. What can I help you with, then?" he asks, indicating he’s ready to go.

"I’ve been talking with Sol about how magic works on his world. You know he’s a mage?" It’s a bit strange to use other terminology for wizards, but Sebastian is nothing if not adaptable. "And I thought it might be wise to see what’s the same, what’s different, and, well, if what he does is innate or not."

Lucius nods. "I know he’s been trying to keep it from common knowledge, but yes. Considering his reticence, I didn’t want to press him." So they discussed young children and dogs instead.

Instead of the dining hall, Sebastian leads them toward the main doors and to a local cafe. It’s not that he doesn’t want Hellsing staff to overhear him, but that they’re less likely to be interrupted this way. "It’s strange. From what I was able to gather, his world is like ours, but moreso. Everything we do is just one branch of magic, and according to him the least effective or interesting," he says with a wry twist. Sebastian is pretty sure that the value judgement attached to verbal, latinate spellcasting is more Sol’s opinion and less universally known fact.

"I see." Lucius digests that. He has, on the whole, become a great deal more credulous recently; his alternate had sneered that it was remarkable what Lucius found himself adjusting to, but sarcasm aside, it was true. That doesn’t mean, though, that’s he’s not mildly insulted.

"Mmhmm." It’s one thing to rail against what annoys you in your own society, but it’s another all together less pleasant thing to have it pointed out. "At the same time, his world has odd limitations, a thing called ‘paradox’ which means if you perform magic publicly, in-front of muggles or ‘sleepers’, the universe or something like it, gets very unhappy and generally leaves you as a greasy smear or lesson to your betters."

"Well. That would make the magical secrecy laws easy to enforce," Lucius observes, mildly. He’s all for order, but that’s somewhat disturbing.

After finding a suitable table - out of the way enough to be ignored by patrons but not by staff, Sebastian continues, "That and education seems to work solely on a mentoring relationship. Mages are awakened as adults and usually find someone to apprentice to before striking out on their own."

"You mean all of them are raised as muggles?" That certainly gets Lucius’ attention.

"Every last one of them. They don’t form into magical communities until they’re adults." It’s strange, but Sebastian can see certain merits in the system.

Lucius looks disturbed by refrains from comment for the time being. After turning that over in his mind, he says, "If he doesn’t do our sort of magic, what sort does he do?"

"I’m not entirely sure, but from what I’ve seen, it’s earthy -- literally as well as figuratively." That is a very gentle, very polite description of Verbena magic and Lucius can probably pick-up up on that from his tone.

"Does he have much knowledge of theory, or is it mainly practical?" Lucius would never dream of badgering Sol, but that doesn’t mean he’s not curious.

"Both, I think. From what I’ve been able to piece together, magic realigns reality to match the concept of the magic-user and the different sorts of magic that are out there all do the same thing, just in different ways and with different costs." He pauses turning his waterglass back and forth in his hands for a moment while he tries to come up with a suitable analogy. "Like trying to open a locked door -- you could kick it in, pick the lock, ask a friend who might have a skeleton key, leave the door in place but remove the wall, or just walk through it."

"I suppose that makes a mad sort of sense," says the man whose alternate future self was rooting through his study without his permission very lately. "So for him, the theory is practical, so to speak."

"Yes, and a mage is someone who is able to see that reality can be altered, that there is a way to get through the locked door." Sebastian frowns and looks down to Velcro as if the dog might suddenly come up with an answer. "I think I’m doing his explanation a bit of a disservice, but does that make sense to you?"

"Somewhat. But does that imply, in his world, any muggle has the potential to become a mage, at any time?" Theoretically, any muggle child under 11 could turn out to be a wizard, too, much as Lucius didn’t dwell on that; but the idea that a man well into middle age could suddenly learn to do magic unsettles him.

"Usually it’s only adults because children innately know that they can change the world." It’s a slippery concept that keeps getting away from him, but Sebastian thinks he’s starting to get a feel for it. "I’ve sometimes wondered about that. In the muggle news, there are sometimes stories of tiny, ancient grandmothers lifting cars off trapped children and, I don’t know, what’s more plausible that they found the strength or...?"

Lucius tries to keep his skepticism in check. "So how do they find mentors, then?"

Sebastian is fairly sure that it’s all a crackpot idea, but he’s allowed a few vague, fluffy thoughts hovering about. "I don’t know, although I suspect that their ‘awakening’ is considerably more, ah, violent than an ten year old flying up to the roof of a building."

Lucius sips his water, turning that over. "I suppose it would be; they’d theoretically have a lot more potential capacity built up, if their power works anything like we think ours does." There is debate, even among theoretical wizards at home, about how age affects magic, but amplification is generally agreed upon.

"And, if it’s anything like what I’ve started to piece together from what I’ve found in the library, it’s usually something life-threatening or emotional that causes it." Lucius can probably guess that it’s not just curiosity that has prompted Sebastian to research, but that he wants to get his own magic back.

"Please tell me you’re not thinking of trapping your poor dog under a car," Lucius replies, mildly.

"No, I was thinking I could teach him to drive." Lucius, you’re a jerk.

Lucius laughs, quietly but genuinely enough. "Well. On the positive side, it seems Baedal will offer you ample opportunity for the ‘life-threatening’ portion."

"I don’t think that Sol’s sort of mage-awakening will work for me." Unless the fundamental rules of how magic works operates as a sort of blending of multiple universes, Sebastian has some rather profound doubts. "A wizard is born, a mage made, and I don’t think you can mix the two. What do you think about all this?"

"Well, I think your particular case is rather off the map. I’ve never heard of a wizard losing his magic the way you did, so it’s hard to judge what will or will not work." Lucius tilts his head at Sebastian. "Have you noticed any change in how you feel, since losing it originally? Can you describe the subjective experience of trying to do magic, if you have?"

"I feels like it’s been cut out. Not that there’s a block and not like I’ve over-worked myself and I’m tired; it’s just empty. I’m still...I can see thestrals and dementors, but other than casting a patronus, and mine is miserably weak at that, there’s nothing. A void," he finishes quietly, fussing with the coaster a bit, but not shying away from the issue.

Lucius nods, sympathetic but no longer horrified; he’s had time to get used to the idea. "And that’s been consistent; no variation?"

"None that I’ve noticed. Every so often, I check, and now that I’ve my wand back, I tried with that, but no effect." He hasn’t mentioned his wand before, but it’s what the city gave him when he arrived.

"Your wand - interesting." Lucius doesn’t press. "I think you’re likely right that the rules from Mr. Koenig’s world won’t directly apply to you. But that doesn’t mean the theory can’t be adapted. The problem is that, from how you’ve described, in his world it’s a matter of seeing. You can see fine; you already know the magical world exists, and your theoretical knowledge hasn’t vanished. But you seem to have lost the ability to practice it, to draw on whatever makes us different from muggles."

"I can observe, but not affect, or I’m some how cut off -- either from an external source or something internal? I know this is probably profoundly basic, but where does magic come from? It can’t be drawn entirely from the soul." Or Voldemort would’ve lost his magic as they went along destroying horcruxes.

"It’s fundamental, yes, but no one agrees." He cups his mug, letting the tea warm his hands. "It’s certainly tied to the personality, though not everyone goes as far as the soul; granted, soul-less people don’t do magic, but they don’t generally do anything. And while Azkaban has many side effects, paradoxically, it doesn’t seem to deprive people of their magical skill, from what you’ve described and from the little I’ve been able to observe. Some people think it’s completely external; that the ability to do spells is the ability to channel external power. But that seems contradicted, at least in part, by how personal certain spells can be, despite English magic’s devotion to order and uniformity. The patronus, of course, is the most evident example; maybe that’s why you can still produce one, but that’s entirely guesswork on my part."

"That makes sense. We never really asked details on how the spell to remove magic would work in practice; it was supposed to be a moot point, but that’s what I get for poor planning." Sebastian is sometimes surprised that it’s comparatively easy to talk about his past. "I’m not sure where to go from here. If you wouldn’t mind, at some point, I’d like to have to check my wand -- it might be ruined from the sea, but it might not."

"I’d be happy to, when you like. I’m not a wand expert, but I should at least be able to feel if it’s active." He resolutely doesn’t think that it’s almost certainly the wand that killed one of his alternates.

By that point in the war, both sides had gotten rather good at holding wizards in magic dampening cells, so Lucius need not fear that Sebastian used a wand to kill his alternate. "I think it is, but I’m not sure."

"That, at least, should be an easy question to answer. I’ll take a look whenever you like." Lucius can do that much.

"After lunch?" Best just get it done and over with for his own peace of mind.

"How...how is Mrs Malfoy?"

"Busy and the better for it. She’s taken to fundraising, have you heard?" He’s glad of Narcissa, though he feels they haven’t talked as much as they might in recent days.

"No, I hadn’t. If I can help, in any way, any quiet sort of way, let me know?" He’s serious. So long as it’s not likely to put him in the path of Baedal’s resident Death Eaters, he’d be quite pleased to do what he can.

"She’ll be pleased to have anyone put at her disposal, but I doubt you have much to fear. She mainly wants money or people good at convincing others to give money, for the moment." Lucius smiles, absently fond. "We are both so much better in motion, though - I think we’d invent problems to solve, if there weren’t sufficient."

"I’ve never had much talent for that," he says with a sheepish laugh. Years ago, he’d been trotted out for fundraising and loathed every minute of it. "It’s taken a lot of effort to learn to be still, not to always be rushing."

"Well, I do well enough in a set of formal robes, but I mostly let her do the steering and then just sign the checks. Or did, at home."

"You know, I don’t think I ever had a proper set of formal robes." He had a child’s set in fourth year, but beyond that it wasn’t ever anything he’d needed. "They always looked a bit strange to me."

"I always think muggle formal attire looks a bit strange myself. I feel strange, wearing it." Not that he was dressed formally, though more so than when he was Parks.

"I suppose that’s the point? To put on something that sets you apart, gives you that bit of confidence." Give him a battle, but spare him your formal galas.

"Something like," Lucius says with a wry smile. "I think the other Lucius suspects I’ve gone native."

Let is be known that at this point in time, Sebastian has an image of Malfoy in a grass skirt and a coconut bra, which makes excellent material for a Riddikulus charm, should he ever be able to cast again. "I wouldn’t say so, but I suppose I’ve gone over."

"You were given a bit less choice about it. I can’t say it’s what I’d do, but I understand not wanting to move through a world where you’re seen as disabled for the rest of your life."

"I want to go back. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday, I’d like to go back and … I don’t know from there." He’s not even sure he can or should go back to his London, but Baedal isn’t actually his home.

"I want to get home too. I know it might not look it from outside but... I haven’t given up on that, yet."

"We’ll find a way." There’s a quiet, confident strength to his words.

"You do seem to make a habit of proving things labeled ‘impossible’ quite the opposite." If you squint, that’s almost like a compliment! "At least I don’t feel like my own magic is wearing me away here." Bête Noire had some advantages, but it had made him profoundly uneasy even so.

"Living in a city with a name that roughly translates as ‘nightmare’ or ‘depression’ tends to be bad for morale," he deadpans. Sebastian caught the compliment (of sorts) and is pleased that Malfoy thinks well(ish) of him.

"So it does. Though at least we could access our world." A version of their world where he could wire money from Gringotts, at least, which was close enough for him.

Sebastian looks as if he’s about to say something, but he stops himself before the idea gets too far. "I was -- no, I don’t think that any of the others from our world will choose to use that connection to try and return."

"It does seem unlikely." It’s dry, but there is a sliver of sympathy beneath it; he can’t say he’s surprised at how Sebastian was treated, but he does think it’s shameful. He’d like to think that, even a few years back, he’d have behaved better to an adult Draco if he’d met one.

"I gave them all the information and told them how to access the banks, gave them whatever I had and said they could return home or come back with me, if their own time wasn’t an option." Where ‘an option’ means they were already dead in the timeline. "Do you know what they did with that knowledge?"

"I don’t." His tone implies this should be good, where good means depressing.

"They bought a house," he says in a plain, measured tone of voice. He almost sounds entirely reasonable. "Because returning to Britain would mean getting involved in the war and that wasn’t ‘pleasant’."

"I called them cowards and that was when Bete Noire tossed me back to London."

"Pleasant," Malfoy repeats, incredulously. "They said that to your face?"

He nods, somewhat pleased that he’s able to reign in his temper. "I told them that it would mean my young alternate’s death and the loss of the second war, but it didn’t matter because they were comfortable. That it was wrong of me to ask Sirius and Remus to suffer for a world and way of life they didn’t care about."

Lucius resists, barely, making a comment about Griffyndor courage.

"I am sorry. I suppose it’s best you left when you did."

Don’t worry, Lucius, Sebastian already made that comment (and more).

"Oh, definitely. And, well, it’s probably a false hope, but I’d like to delude myself just a bit and think that they were from worlds very unlike our own." They could be from the Mirrorverse, right?

"Possibly. My acquaintance with all of them except Sirius was brief." And mainly involved shooting curses at each other. "But I suppose it’s possible. I like to think that I’ll end up neither the Lucius from your world nor the one who’s arrived here." And that could also be delusion, he well knows.

"I should hope you’re a little more prepared than either of them." Having a knowledge, even a vague one, of the future might be enough. Sebastian hopes that what he’s been able to give Malfoy will be a better guide than prophecy.

"We can only hope," he says, a bit more subdued. Of course, if he forgets Sebastian’s advice, he’ll theoretically forget about the outcomes he’s trying to avoid, but he won’t think about that too intensely. There’s no reason to think he shouldn’t remember.

"On the brighter side of things, they did say that I really had taken over where Sirius failed and was a ‘proper’ Black." Enjoy Sebastian’s expression and concept of what the brighter side of life entails.

"They were alternates," Lucius says, charitably. "You can’t know what your versions would do in the same situation."

"That’s good of you to say and, well, it’s good," he says with a lopsided, sheepish sort of smile.

"It’s hard for me to gauge, but the Sirius there seemed even more of an ass than I remember," Lucius says, dry but helpful.

"He was kind, though." Comparatively speaking. "Well, at least he was kind to me and I hope he does well, pulls his head out of his ass, and thinks about what he’s doing. Never his strong suit, but I still feel like I owe him, or his alternate, or something like that."

"Well, it could be worse." He’s thinking of Rodolphus and Antonin, and seeing them after Azkaban had had its way with them for far too long.

"He’d always had a big heart." And was ruled by it. Rationally, Sebastian knows it’s a flaw but one he’s always found easy to understand and forgive. "Thanks, I needed to talk this through to get my head around it."

Lucius waves the thanks off. "I’ll be interested to hear if you make any progress with Koenig; I confess to be intrigued about mechanical differences between magic in different worlds." He may or may not secretly be a nerd.

Fear not, Lucius, Sebastian won’t rat you out for an unnatural love of books.

"I’ve skimmed through a few other books I’ve found at Hellsing and I think there’s a much variety among magical traditions as there are worlds out there. I’ve been grouping them into rough families of practice, but that’s more because I don’t even know where to start than a need to categorize."

"I’d be interested to see how far you’ve gotten, some time. I’ve had a look at their collection, but in fairness, I’m mostly too busy with practicalities to get as far as I’d like."

"You’re welcome to my notes, but my handwriting is a bit, ah, well, it’s a mess." Chicken-scratch would be a polite understatement. "It’s been suggested that I go talk to Martel about this, since it’s more his thing and he works for the university."

"I don’t suppose it can hurt," Lucius allows. "And I’ve a charm for deciphering old or bad handwriting, if you ever need it." Acquiring proper artwork and antique books for Malfoy Manor had meant having at least a bit of handy, passing knowledge in that area.

And so, their meal arrives, handwavery, small talk, Halloween plans (if any, etc.), all the way back to the Hellsing guild hall and out into the back forty. Sebastian is relatively sure Malfoy testing his wand won’t blow them both into small, messy pieces, but if it does, better to happen outside where the mess will be easier to clean up.

"I don’t expect your wand to like me very much," Lucius comments as they find an open space in which to test it. "But this should at least give you a sense of whether it’s still active." He didn’t think ocean water should have too much effect, but there were certain ways to break enchantments that had to do with running water, so he wasn’t certain.

As Sebastian hands over his wand, Velcro chuffs and, perhaps wisely, heads off across the field to either chase rabbits or just get a bit of distance. The wand itself is the same one he’s always had and used, but clearly spent some time at the bottom of the sea.

"The core’s phoenix feather and that tends to get along poorly with water."

"Have you cleaned it up at all, or is it just as it came back to you?" If it’s still live, there are probably some ways to preserve and clean it a bit more; it’ll never be like new, but it’ll be sturdier.

"It was dry when I arrived here, so I think it might’ve washed ashore somewhere, but I’ve done nothing to preserve it. It’s unsettling." He should get some sort of feedback from his wand and there’s nothing.

"Alright." He removed his own wand from his person, for safety’s sake, and put it a short way away. "Let’s start elementary. Do you remember what the very first spell you learned with this wand was?" If he’d gotten it later in life, it probably wouldn’t matter, but if it’s been his wand always, it could.

"A basic hover charm, wingardium leviosa," he says, wondering if he ought to mention part of the reason that it was this particular wand that worked for him when no others would. "...er, there’s one other thing you should know before you try to cast. When I bought it, that was the only wand that worked for me, I’ve always been absolute rubbish with all others. And it’s been twined."

"Oh?" Lucius raises the wand, but doesn’t cast yet.

"The core matches, matched, Voldemort’s. I don’t think that should cause you any trouble, but you should be aware." Trouble being some sort of interaction with the Mark.

"Well, that’s terribly reassuring." It’s not as if the Mark is on his wand arm. Oh wait.

Still, he removes a pen from his vest, sets it on the ground, and gamely gives the wand a try. "Wingardium Leviosa." Hermione would be unable to find fault with his pronunciation, it should be noted.

It’s a bit shaky, but the pen floats.

"...well, that’s a good sign." Velcro pops his head up from whatever he’d been snuffling at and trots over to better investigate the pen.

"It isn’t dead." Lucius frowns. "It feels a bit... loose, for me, but I don’t have a baseline to compare." He let’s the pen drop, then says "Lumos," experimentally.

Yet again, it does what it’s supposed to do and there’s a gently glowing ball of slightly off-colour light. "I’ve heard that before. Hermione tried it out once and said it was trying to fix a watch spring with a dead chicken. Ron said that a hammer would’ve been a better comparison, so she threw a lime-jelly chicken at him."

Lucius smiles, almost absently. "I don’t know if I’d go that far, but even so." He dismisses the light spell. "Accio pen," he tries, bringing it up from the ground.

And, ‘lo, the pen does accio with what is becoming a characteristic sort of wobble. "It was always a bit of a mess when I used anyone else’s wand." The emphasis on ‘mess’ implies that there may have been some minor explosions.

"I don’t think I ever seriously needed to try." He’d like to keep it that way, as well. "But at the very least, yours is still active and working. It hasn’t backfired on me, and it hasn’t spit out anything I don’t want."

"Which is all good, but Malfoy, what do you know about how the Ministry monitors underage wizards?" Non sequitor powers are a GO.

He looks at Sebastian with a raised eyebrow, then turns the wand to offer it back to its owner. "Not a great deal in the way of technical details. It acts something like a... well, this is a terribly gauche way of describing it, but like a net made of age lines. Any magic performed by someone under the legal age disturbs the net, so to speak, and they can trace it back to its source. A lot of the time, they don’t bother; anyone under 11, for example, is generally assumed to be doing it accidentally or under parental supervision."

Sebastian takes the wand back and tucks it into his back pocket. (One day, he’ll blow his own ass to pieces, but today is not that day.) "That makes sense. Looking at you work here, I got to thinking if it would be possible to build something similar that could check for magic, in general, and possibly differentiate between types of magic, different spells, even."

He and Raylan could talk sometime, considering the number of firearms stuck in the back of the marshal’s jeans.

Lucius looks surprised, then thoughtful. "It would take time, and I’d need other wizards to help me set it up; with that sort of scale, even if it’s just the city, I’d need years, and even then I couldn’t be sure of detecting magic other than our sort."

"I wouldn’t need the city, just a room. If I’m trying to find a way to jumpstart or reroute or whatever my own magic, I think we need a baseline." Sebastian knows it’s probably not a brilliant idea, but it might be worth exploring. "There’d probably be some cursebreaking spells we could adapt. The early warning sort to detect for magical build-up."

"That could work. We’d need something to anchor it to, since I can’t just teach you a spell once I’ve developed it." Wheels are clearly turning. "But we might be able to fine-tune it, somehow, so it could detect that level of detail."

Most of Sebastian’s ideas are a bit mad at the outset, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. "Right. We know I can use magical objects without any trouble, so running through what we’d need: it should be anchored, perhaps in a lightbulb or a compass, able to detect the use of magic, ideally, differentiate between a patronus and whatever else, and fairly sensitive. Does it seem possible?"

"Complicated," Lucius says after a moment, "but I don’t think it’s impossible. I’ll need to do some reading, and then need to make some tests - probably here, a house full of wizards would be a terrible place to get any sort of sensitivity tests done."

"Let me track down what I can on cursebreaking. That’s usually fussy work, but I’ve got a feeling it’s a good jumping off point." Sebastian grins at Malfoy. He’s happiest when there’s a direction for him to follow.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Narcissa had set you on keeping me busy," he says mildly, but he can’t completely hide his interest.

"It’s all a part of my clever ruse," he drawls before breaking the faux-seriousness with a laugh.

Lucius shakes his head, retrieving his own wand."If you weren’t so cunning, I’d suspect you were mad."