Tears of a Basilisk

Journal entry the ninth


I think I've managed to build up a resistance to Pepper-Up potions. It's probably only my sheer stubborn will keeping me vertical, but in a cruel twist of fate I have to expend what physical energy I have left to build up my magical stores. These late nights are starting to catch up with me, but without the collected energy I wouldn't be able to perform a simple levitation charm. Let's see, in the previous entry I addressed my beginning, in all of its convoluted glory. In the interest of balance, let's skip ahead and tackle my present. I'm sure that there has been someone studying the tree non-stop since it was revealed, but even the legible parts must seem extremely confusing, especially when referencing the various blood gifts. I will clarify yet another one for you, my dear reader, one that I know for a fact was lost to history. I am, of course, referencing to the gift entitled “Bardic Voice”, which appears less than ten times on the entire tree. In both lives, I possessed the Voice, and I am perhaps the only member of the family to realize its full potential.


Think about music, for a second, my dear reader. I am certain that there are some songs that have a profound emotional impact on you. Nowadays music is just a form of entertainment, but in the glory days of the Bards songs took on whole new meanings and dimensions. Imagine a song as a spell, of sorts. Instead of relying on flicking a silly stick around and spouting regurgitated latin, you take the spell and channel it through yourself. Spells set to songs are powerful, and less dependent on key words as long as the caster's intent is there.


I know, disbelief might be setting in, what can a song really do in practical terms. Well, a properly trained battle wizard can take down, what, maybe a dozen of their opponents with, say, slashing hexes for example. That seems like a good ratio, each wizard taking twelve of their opponents with them, and most war leaders would be happy with those numbers. In my day, using my bardic skills, I could take that slashing hex and broadcast it through a song. Instead of taking down a dozen of my opponents, I could take down hundreds in minutes with the same hex.


Bardic talents not only tap into the power of the caster, but it resonates through the target as well. The best feature about using bardic talent to cast spells is that you aren't limited by range, or even effects of the spell. Anything you can envision, with the right talent and song, can be cast by a true Bard. I have turned soldiers away from fighting to hold a huge orgy in the middle of the battlefield. Likewise, well-sung songs have helped turn potential enemies into potential allies. Bards, which came mostly from Druid stock, were often in demand at court for such purposes only, the ultimate diplomats. One lesser known ability of the Voice is the ability to siphon energy from your audience. The key to this is to sing a song designed to raise a strong emotion in your audience, be it adoration, lust, fear, envy, any emotion will do ultimately. Strong emotions make people radiate excess energy, which is why crowds tend to have the same mentality in a given situation. A true Bard can take this energy produced from the emotions and absorb it, adding it to their magical reserve. It's a handy skill in a pinch, if you exhaust yourself it's fairly easy to find a power source.


What relevance has this to my recent life, you might wonder? Well, after finishing what I need for my rite most nights I head out to a mostly muggle part of London, where I have a standing gig in this one nightclub. It's easy enough to go incognito, all I have to do is drop the glamours that resemble the BWL and walk in my touched-up true form. I'm apparently one of the most popular acts to come along in a while, every night I show up ends up being a sell-out. It's not only muggles that attend, I spot a fair number of young wizards, even some of my own classmates on a fairly regular basis. In other words, I'm a rock star. With touch-ups, I'm apparently not bad to look at, and even without the bardic talent my voice is decent. I sing mostly covers, and it's easy enough to whip the crowd into enough of a frenzy that I can refill my magical reserves quickly. It's utterly exhausting physically, but that's an easier affliction to counter. Not like I expect to live much longer anyway.


Hmm, maybe I should check some of the wizarding papers, I know I saw Luna there the other night. Even in a different setting, role, and form I can't stay out of the papers. I know the muggle papers have covered my shows, they keep pestering my voice mail for interviews. You'd think they would get the clue after telling each one how many ways they could bugger the rest of their family, past, present, and future, but noooo.


I don't think I'll attend classes so regularly anymore. It's not like they have anything to offer me, and there are other aspects of my life that need more of my time and resources. Besides, the late nights are wearing me out. I might make token appearances, to keep the coot staying the course he is. I can ill afford too many variables to change anymore, I've invested so much of myself already for the future of Hogwarts. If I pull this off, never again will someone the likes of Dumbledore be allowed to have any power over the school. The slate will be wiped clean, and once more, as in the beginning, Hogwarts would be devoted to providing a safe place for young people with magical talent to become functioning, productive members of society.


Aha, that brings me to another issue I meant to address some time ago, regarding my current reputation as a Founder. Everyone believes that I was a spiteful, pure-blood elitist with an active hatred for muggles and muggleborns. Of all the lies, this is the farthest from the truth. Hell, Godric had more of a bias than I. I could honestly care less about the origins of magical children, and I have actively defended children of the muggle variety. They are all humans, after all. Children are children, and are a sacred trust placed in the hands of adults. And honestly, only a moron would truly believe in that pure-blooded nonsense. It's a given that only by diversifying the bloodline can any species remain strong. Wizards make up such a small percentage of the population that it wouldn't take long before inbreeding would be rampant, usually making each generation weaker and sicker. Pure blood nonsense is detrimental to any species, but especially one as complex as humans, where any number of things can go wrong with the genome. It can be impressive sounding dogma for a dictator, as evidenced by Hitler, but is based entirely in weird science. How this label got stuck to me I'll never know, but perhaps after my death things will clear up somewhat. I did say that I plan to go out in style, after all.


Before I address this entry, I must amend my earlier commentary. I was wrong to doubt him, if anything he sugar-coated the facts somewhat. The level of manipulation and memory-altering spells we found in every last one of us drove the point in further, and ultimately verified his version of events as the correct one. I could see Albus getting his fingers into most everyone else's heads, but I was already a skilled Occulmens at the time. I should have been able to sense something, despite the teenage hormones coursing through my veins. Then again, I doubt anyone would have believed me, and I would have been shipped to St. Mungo's most likely.


When I try to picture Harry Potter as a muggle rock star, my eyes start to cross. I just can't reconcile that fact with the physical image I know. He certainly does have the rebel attitude most rockers try to affect, but I just can't picture it. I'd have better luck imagining Lucius dressed as C3-P0, as Harry mentioned a couple entries ago. I agree with him heartily, it's a shame that most wizards want nothing to do with muggle culture. It's a guilty pleasure of mine to go out to the movies fairly often, so I think he'd be pleased that someone is indeed appreciating his references. Lucius as C3-P0, that would raise spirits throughout the castle somewhat. I think it's time to enlist the aid of the notorious Weasley twins. Maybe the Creevy boy as well, I'm sure he could get a fair sum for pictures.


I personally never thought I'd see the day when the most commonly believed, supposedly most accurate fact about Salazar Slytherin would be so dramatically blown out of the water. When I opened the journal to this entry, several loose papers came tumbling out. Examining them, I decided that they should be sent away and published as essays against pure-blood supremacy. He certainly seemed to write them with that purpose in mind, and each one was signed as Slytherin. Maybe this is one of the steps he mentioned.


On a side note, either the whiskey or this damned book might be making me excessively paranoid. Recently, I have felt a presence watching me, but no matter what I do I can't figure out what it is, if anything. I could be jumping at air, living a life as a spy only reinforces constant paranoia and hyper-awareness of one's surroundings, but it somehow feels like I'm missing something. One time near the Quidditch pitch, I turned around immediately, wand ready, when I sensed a presence, and caught a brief glimpse of black feathers that quickly vanished from sight. If this continues much longer, I might develop a serious nervous twitch. Any and all spells I use to detect the intruder, as well as letting down my Occulmency shields briefly, has resulted in nothing. Either there's something out there that's toying with us, or I am just a paranoid old ex-spy with too much time on my hands. With my luck, it's most likely the latter. Well, nothing to do but wait and see, I suppose.