Harry Potter and the Child of Tourach

the next morning, Harry’s apartment:

Ginny hated to get up early. She knew that she had to rise early to reach St. Mungos in time, but that didn’t make it more enjoyable. She snuggled into her wonderfully warm and soft bed and simply decided to stay there and to sleep forever. Unfortunately even the best laid plans can be thwarted. This morning Ginny worst opponent was Harry Potter.

Just as started to drift back to sleep, she felt someone, or to be more specific, a certain someone, starting to trail kisses down and up her neck, effectively dispelling all chances of going back to sleep. Ginny stirred, trying to shush away the intruder only to discover that he was lying on her back, pinning her beneath him. No matter how hard she tried, he simply wouldn’t budge.

“Okay, okay, bugger off, I’m standing up.”, she said, finally admitting defeat.
Immediately she was released and rolled on her back, directly looking in the beaming face of Harry Potter. He was sitting on the bed on her right, wearing blue jeans and black socks and holding a steaming mug in his hands.

“Morning Sleepyhead.” he replied cheekily, smiling his most cocky smile. “Here’s your daily dose of energy.”
He passed the mug to her and she was more than pleased to find it filled with steaming coffee, her big addiction.
“With cream and two lumps of sugar?” she asked, smiling.
“Of course.”

Ginny took a sip and immediately felt a little bit less tired. After two more sips, she focused her gaze back on her husband.
“Do you know that you are a god sometimes?”
“Hey, I’m your husband.” he replied grinning. “Isn’t it my job to fulfil all your wishes and desires?”

“Yeah, that’s your job.” she said, as her gaze settled on his bare chest. “Have I told you already that I love what auror training did to your body?”
“No, but I guessed you like it. Nevertheless I got to dash, the rookies are waiting. It’s half past seven by the way, you should get up now. I’ve prepared some breakfast for you.”

“Half past seven?” she shrieked, leaping out of the bed. “I’ve got to be at the hospital at eight o’clock. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
“Well, it’s not my fault that it takes you ages to wake up.” Harry replied, changing into his auror robes. “Don’t worry, you’ll arrive on time. See you this evening.”

He kissed her goodbye and left the flat, disapparating outside, due to the anti-apparation-wards he had planted in the apartment, leaving a slightly panic Ginny Potter behind.


* * * * *


a small room in the Ministry of Magic, half an hour later:

Sara Carter was bored and anxious at the same time. She was a pretty girl of eighteen, with a heart-shaped face, shoulder-length blonde hair, which she was wearing in a ponytail and deep blue eyes. She was sitting in a small, rectangular room, which was filled with about twenty desks and a teacher’s desk. The only sources of illumination were the sooting torches, which hung at the walls in regular intervals. All in all it reminded her very much of a classroom at Hogwarts.

Nineteen other auror apprentices were seated at the desks, many of them old members of her year at Hogwarts. She spotted one of her ex-fellow Ravenclaws, Sean White, at a table on the other side of the room. Sean was a tall boy, with very short black hair and grey eyes. He had a pleasant face which usually sported looks of either boredom or smug satisfaction. He had always been a bit arrogant and Sara was sure that this would cause some trouble during their training.

Her first day at a would-be-auror had started terrible. First of all she had to rise at the ungodly hour of half-past five, because she had to at the Ministry at seven o’clock and of course had to look half-way presentable. Of course she had overslept and had to skip breakfast to make it in time, only to get lectured by a withering, old fool about the great importance of the aurors to the society and what an honour it was to do this job. Then they had been ushered in this small room to wait for their instructor, who would coach them for the next few years.

By now her stomach was grumbling loudly and she made a mental note to grab a bite as soon as possible. They had been waiting for five minutes already; apparently their teacher was taking his time. Sara had a very vivid image of him in her mind. Of course it had to be a male, because the auror department was one of the most old-fashioned departments of the Ministry. While they had no problems of letting woman join the department, there hadn’t been a female instructor for the last 150 years.

Also he would be so old that he would barely been able to remember the last battle he fought and would be much too senile to remember their names, of course. Somehow they would cheat their ways through the practical exams and would finish their training without having really learned anything. Yeah, Sara Carter had a very detailed image of the next few years in her head.

How mistaken she was.

Suddenly the only door to the room opened and a young man entered the room, wearing auror robes. Auror robes look mostly like plain black wizard robes, only two differences are striking. First of all there are two coloured stripes on them, each of them starting at a shoulder and running down the complete body. Also a wand with sparks flying from it is embroidered on the front of the robes. Both the logo and the stripes come in different colours, determining the auror’s rank.

Normally they are white, trainees are sporting blue ones, high-aurors red ones. The man who had just entered the room was wearing the robes of a high-auror. He appeared to be in his early twenties, a handsome young man with a thin face, messy, charcoal hair and deep green eyes. He was broad shouldered and seemed to be in good physical shape, as far as the bulky auror robes permitted judgement about that.

The atmosphere in the room, which had tensed as the door opened, relaxed as soon as the students saw who had entered the room. Like Sara most of them expected an old instructor and thought they were looking at a young auror, probably still a trainee himself. Sara, however, knew that there was more about this man than what caught the eye. Trainees don’t waltz around in high-auror robes and she was determined to crack this little riddle, having the strange feeling of knowing that face.

The young man walked to the teacher’s desk in front of the room and stood behind it. Some of the students fell quiet but most remained talking to each other. The ‘trainee’ cleared his throat and finally the students feel quiet and focused their attention on the young man.

“Well finally.” he said in a deep, calming voice. “Welcome new students, eventful times lie ahead. My name is...”
“Are you the instructor’s assistant?” asked Sean, cutting of the young man right at the beginning of his speech.
The young auror’s brows furrowed at being interrupted and for the first time Sara realized that he was sporting a small, white scar on his left cheek. Obviously this man had some combat experience despite his young age.
“What do you mean?” he asked his voice still polite, but irritation sparkling in his eyes.

“Well you are much too young to be an instructor and still you’re here.” continued Sean. “The only explanation why you could be here and be wearing this robes is that your job is to assist the instructor and that they lent you this robes to stress your position.”

For a few seconds nothing happened, the young man simply blinking in disbelief at Sean. Suddenly he burst out laughing and had to grab the desk in support or he would have fallen at the floor. The students just stared at him in disbelief until he had regained enough composure to continue speaking.

“That’s a good one.” he said, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ever thought of becoming a comedian? Nevertheless I can assure you that I am not an apprentice to anyone, but your instructor and I’ve earned this robe by my work alone, thank you very much.”
“But that’s completely impossible.” said Sean, not buying a word from that. “Is this some kind of test? How old are you? Twenty-two, twenty-three? No one has ever become a high-auror at this age. So either you are an impostor or you are testing us. In each case I passed.”

“Ah yes, the old problem with my age. You, Sean, are not as smart as you think.” the young man answered, even though Sara was sure, that Sean hadn’t told him his name. “However your doubts will be dispelled and your questions answered soon, it’s all connected with my name. I’m …”

And suddenly everything clicked into place in Sara’s head. “You are Harry Potter.” she said in disbelief.


Deafening silence followed her words. Everyone remained frozen in his or her last movements, as though time had decided to stop for a moment. Finally Harry broke the silence. Smiling, he pushed back his fringe, revealing the tell-tale scar, which had been hid under it. “Yeah, I know I am.” he replied smiling, remembering a similar dialogue with Luna Lovegood in his fifth year.

“But, but, but Harry Potter hasn’t been seen for….” started Sean.
“About five years, the last time, as I showed up at my own funeral.” replied Harry. “I vanished from the public to live my own life for the first time ever. I had no desire to spend my days dodging the reporters, who would sell their souls for an interview. So I made sure that no one but a few friends could find me and settled down in a Muggle apartment.”

This was true; he had indeed moved out of the Burrow as fast as possible, craving for some privacy and made himself at home in a small flat at the outskirts of London, which Tonks had arranged for him.
He continued speaking, making a mental note of not mentioning that he was married, being more than able to imaging vividly the roman holiday ‘Witch Weekly’ would have with that information. He kicked himself for not taking off his ring, but it was impossible to take it off now without looking suspicious.

“I enrolled for auror training and the Ministry made sure that not the tiniest scrap of information about this reached the public. I was finished within a year and worked as an auror ever since. As your original instructor, auror Hartman, broached that he didn’t feel well enough to train you, I was asked to take over. And here I am.”

Harry knew that he had to act fast or the students would start to riddle him with questions about his past or about his personal life and he would like to avoid the topic. During his life he had grown to a very suspicious person and learned that it was wiser not to reveal too much information about oneself.

“I know that you are nearly bursting with all kind of questions about me or my life, but I’m not here to talk about myself, but to teach you. I’ve never enjoyed being a celebrity and I’m never going to.”

“We understand, Mr. Potter, Sir.” said a young, black man, with a sympathetic face and long, black dreadlocks, who was seated in the first row. Sara recognized him. His name was Booker Kane, one of the Gryffindors, who graduated with her. The only thing she knew about him was his reputation of a womanizer, which he had earned during his time at Hogwarts. She made a mental note of keeping a close eye on him.

Harry was startled at being addressed as ‘sir’ and he didn’t like it a bit.
“Please, call me Harry.” he said. “I’m young enough to be your older brother and all this sir-stuff is making me feel old.”
“You are young enough to be our boyfriend.” a female student called, causing the room to burst out laughing.
“Point taken.” replied Harry, smiling. “However, now it’s time to start. All of you want to be aurors as soon as possible. Before we start your training, there are several important things you have to know.”

“First of all your education consists of a theoretical and a practical part. You’ll spend your Thursdays and Fridays listening to some teachers lecturing you about magical law and the proper way to handle certain situations. This is boring as hell, but it’s necessary. The lectures are held in auditoriums here at the Ministry, you’ll receive a timetable today, which will help you to at the right place at the right time.”

“The rest of your week, you’ll be spending training with me. All of you are adept at Defence against the Dark Arts, but you wouldn’t last a minute in serious combat. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to teach you all the stuff you’ll need to stay alive until you are retiring. This includes all kind of combat spells, transfiguration, potion-making, duelling, tracking, interrogation and gathering information.”

“Also you have to be in good physical shape to become and auror. To pass the exam you have to run five miles in less then half an hour and I doubt that anyone of you could do this at the moment. I also will teach you some Muggle martial arts, which are highly useful, but not official part of the curriculum.”

“There is no fixed time when you have to take your exams; you just take them, when you feel ready. You’ll have a theoretical exam, a practical exam and a physical test and you are free to take them one at time or all at once. Theoretically you’ve got as much time as you want to finish you training, the average a three years, but I would consider choosing another career if you aren’t finished in five years. So far so good, any questions?”

Sean White raised his hand.

“Why do we have to learn martial arts?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “We are Wizards after all, why should we employ Muggle methods if it’s easier to use magic?”
Harry smiled at this question. Sean possessed an almost natural arrogance many Wizards sported regarding all things Muggles ever invented.

“You know Sean, I’m going to show you. All of you, follow me.” he replied and left the room. They walked for about two minutes, climbing down hidden stairs which lead deep into the Ministry. Finally they arrived in a vast hall, their boots echoing dully on the marble floor. Most of the hall was riddled with circular pits, each of them sixty feet in diameter. They could see a few aurors duelling in some of them, but most of the pits were empty.
“Welcome to the Arena, the primary training centre of aurors of all age.” said Harry. “You’ll spend a lot of time sweating in the pits so you should make yourself familiar with this place. You’ll be able to reach the Arena through many different ways; I doubt that anyone knows all of them.”

He was cut off, by someone slapping him on the shoulder. He wheeled around and came face to face with a beaming Tonks, who was sporting neon green hair today.
“Wotcher Harry.” she said. “What brings you down here?”
“Hi Tonks”, he replied, “You really have to work at your sneaking skills; I was able to hear you trampling in my direction. Folks, this is Nymphadora Tonks, one of the finest aurors around.”

Tonks slapped him playfully on the arm, for using her first name and for exaggerating.
“Don’t believe everything he says.” she said to the rookies. “He may be one of the strongest wizards in the world, but he really likes to pull your leg. Anyway Harry, what are you going to show the apprentices down here?”

“I’m here to demonstrate them how useful martial arts can be. By the way, how’s your old wolf of a husband?”
“He’s really fine.” replied Tonks grinning. “He still got some problems finding a job, but we can live comfortably on my salary. But I really shouldn’t keep you from teaching; show the rookies what you can do.”

“I’ll do my best.” said Harry, loosening the wand holster strapped to his wrist and giving it to Tonks. “I’m now going to demonstrate how to fight an enemy without a wand. As you’ve seen, I’ve given my wand away. Normally a wizard without a wand isn’t really a danger for an enemy with one, but with the correct technique you’ll be able to best them nevertheless.”

“I’m going to demonstrate this with Sean. Follow me to the pit over there and gather round; everyone should be able to see properly.”

They walked over the nearest pit and as they approached it a staircase appeared leading down into the small arena. Harry and Sean walked down in the pit and stood facing each other, five feet separating them, while the students and Tonks gathered round the pit. Suddenly a small ball of energy appeared over the pit, directly between the two men in the small arena.

“Okay Sean, here’s the plan.” Harry started, “You are going to try to incapacitate me, using whatever you feel appropriate, except for Unforgiveables, of course. I’m not going to use any magic, but trust me, I’ll be victorious. We will start as soon as the little sphere there bursts.”

“He can’t win this can he?” asked Booker as the two combatants got ready.
“Trust me, he can.” replied Tonks, smiling smugly, looking down at the two persons in the arena. Sean looked very nervous, but was grim faced and seemed to want to prove himself, while Harry was looking totally relaxed.

Precisely in this moment the sphere burst.

Sean immediately shot a stunner at Harry, which would have ended the fight if Harry had still been standing there. Immediately after the fight began, Harry had rolled left, effectively dodging the curse. Before Sean realized what happened, Harry was already in striking distance, hitting him directly in the solar plexus. The strike knocked all the wind out of Sean, who promptly fell on his knees, allowing Harry to disarm him, by administering a strike with the edge of his hand to Sean’s wrist. Suddenly Sean found himself face to face with his own wand, a grinning Harry looking down on him.

“You see?” he said. “That’s why we are learning martial arts.”


* * * * *


It was exactly five pm when Harry pushed open the door leading to John Wright’s office to start their daily debriefing. Since Harry had arrested the Death Eaters during his first year as an auror, Wright had considered him as his second-in-command and the two of them had started their tradition of a debriefing shortly after this incident. Also they had become good friends over the years.

Harry walked inside and found John sitting in his usual position behind his desk, which was always littered with so many reports, letters, memos etc. that it was impossible to see the desk itself. As always, the ascetic looking man had already uncorked a bottle of whiskey, plain Muggle bourbon, no firewiskey, and two empty shot glasses were placed in front of him, above the heap of paper on his desk.

Wright’s light-blue eyes locked with Harry’s emerald green ones and a smile appeared on his normally solemn face.
“You are not on duty, are you Harry?” he asked, lifting one of the glasses. “May I tempt you?”
“Technically I still am, but there aren’t any bad guys around at the moment so one or two drunken aurors won’t do any harm.”

“Yeah, chances of becoming an archauror are pretty bad at the moment, aren’t they?”
To become an archauror, the highest rank in the Department of Magical Law Enforce, a high-auror has to do something extremely valuable for the society, under jeopardy of his or her own life. The last know archauror was Sara Shacklebolt (one of Kingsley’s ancestors), who got promoted for killing a party of six liches, who wanted to rise an undead army to overthrow the Ministry, nearly one hundred fifty years ago.

Harry set down at the desk facing his superior, while Wright filled the glasses. Wright was wearing the robes of a high-auror, but as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement four golden stars had been embroidered in his collar.
“Here you are.” said Wright, “Your turn or mine?”
“Your.” replied Harry. This was an old game of them, on each day one of them had to invent a new toast, without repeating any old ones, of course. Usually this resulted in hilarious inventions.
“Okay, to the incredible pleasure of kicking a bad guys’ ass so hard that he won’t be able to sit for the next two years. Cheers!”

Both men drained their glasses of gold-brown liquid, feeling the warmth of the liquid spreading inside of them. They put their glasses down and returned to business.

“Right, how was your first day with the rookies?” asked Wright.
“Not bad, I spent most time testing the waters, like I suspected these kids are very good for Hogwarts’ standard, but they wouldn’t survive an encounter with a group of Death Eaters.”
“Ah yes. Harry, you’re probably one of the most paranoid guys in our profession, second only to good-old Mad-Eye.”, Wright replied smiling. “There aren’t any Death Eaters left to slaughter our newbies, you and the rest of the aurors took care of that. Well after everything you faced who could blame you and being prepared won’t do any harm if a real crisis occurs. Were there any problems during their first training session?”

“Nothing serious, they had some trouble believing me that I’m their instructor. Young age isn’t always an advantage you know? Oh, and the usual I’m-a-wizard-why-do-I-have-to-learn-Muggle-things-complex.”

“Ah yes, the old problem. It has been around, since you suggested training all aurors in Muggle martial arts. I’m tired of smoothing this discussion, you’re the instructor. You’ve got my permission to teach them everything you think appropriate.”

“What about elemental magic?”, interrupted Harry. Elemental magic was very old magic, which was used to control the four elements: earth, air, water and fire. Normally these spells were very hard to cast and even harder to control. Due to this, the old combat spells, which had used elemental magic, had been replaced over the years, by magic easier to cast. Out of pure boredom Harry had spent countless hours digging through ancient pieces of parchment during the last few years and he had succeeded in learning how to use this old magic.
While it was harder to use, it was also very effective and only very, very few Wizards were able to counter a magma jet flying at their head.

“I doubt that they’ll be able to cast these spells, but if you think it will help them go right ahead.” said Wright. “By the way, how’s Ginny? Do you to have any plans for the evening?”
“She’s fine, thank you. Today’s Friday so we’ll be going out, probably in a Muggle club or a restaurant. Wizard establishments are out of bounds, due to obvious reasons. Are you going to see any of your children this weekend?”

Wright had been married for three times and had four children, living with their mothers. Harry had never been able to remember which child he had with which wife or when he would be seeing whom.

“No, I’m free this weekend.” replied Wright, his face impassive. “I think I’m going to watch a few Quidditch matches or simply get myself wasted in a dungy bar; you’ve got to gather information after all and there’s no better way to get them, than talking to a few shady fellows in a bar. Well, there’s only one more thing, before we’re finished. The Minister wants one of his bureaucrats to supervise you training the recruits.”

Before Harry could object, Wright cut him off and continued.

“I know you wouldn’t like it and I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing we can do. Just try being civil to the supervisor, it’ll make things easier. He’s waiting outside the door at the moment; I think you’ve already met. Come in!”

The heavy, oaken door opened and Harry was startled to see Percy Weasley entering the office.


* * * * *


Harry was still fuming when he pushed open the door leading to his apartment. The mere fact that the Ministry was considering it necessary to supervise him was somewhere between ridiculous and downright insulting. Normally the instructor could teach whatever he or she thought appropriate if the superior agreed to it. That the minister himself sent one of his lapdogs to witness the training was extremely unusual. Harry was taxing his brain to find any reason for minister’s behaviour. Truth be told his relationship with Scrimgeour, who had claimed lot of the praise for rounding up the remaining Death Eaters, had been icy, since he had refused to be the ministry’s mascot on Christmas in his sixth year. During the last five years they had been avoiding each other as much as possible. The last time Harry had actually spoken to Scrimgeour during the last years, had been when he had received his Order of Merlin, First Class, in a private ceremony, shortly after his reappearance. The Order was currently oxidizing somewhere in his flat. Harry had never regarded it as something to be proud of.

He still distrusted every politician, the trouble with Umbridge during his fifth year had taught him never to trust a person working in this profession. In his opinion the ministry was in the bad need of a complete makeover, especially in their attitude towards werewolves and houseelves. He had no intention of going into politics, but he would be one of the first to support any revolutionary movements in the ministry. Suddenly he knew why Scrimgeour was watching him.

It was the same reason why Umbridge had refused them to do magic during their fifth year. Scrimgeour suspected him of training his own personal army! The thought was as ridiculous as it was logical. The minister knew his attitude towards the ministry and towards him as a person. Combined with Harry’s fame, fortune and powers, this became a potentially dangerous mixture. Therefore Scrimgeour had sent one of his most loyal lapdogs, Percy Weasley, who had proven his loyalty to the ministry for several times now.

That after everything he had done for the Wizarding World, after all the blood he had shed to protect the society, they still didn’t trust him. This thought immensely depressed Harry, it seemed as though he had merely been a tool, which could be discarded after having been used.

He entered his flat, in the desperate need of getting cheered up.


* * * * *


shortly before midnight, in a flat on the other side of London:

Hermione was snuggling deeper in the soft and warm covers of her bed, enjoying the feeling of the fabric on her nude body. Ron was still away drinking with the other members of the Chudley Cannons, as he did every Friday, and Hermione had spent the evening on her own. She had brooded over the arithmancy tables of an infravision spell; she was currently working on, searching for any flaws in it. Each spell was clearly defined by these columns of numbers, and experimental spells had to be checked for unwanted side effects for several times, before they were cast for the first time.

She had eaten dinner, which had magically cooked itself, after two hours of unproductive work and then decided to call it an evening. After taking a long, hot, steamy bath, she had brushed her teeth and went to bed around eleven o’clock. The last hour she had spent trying to get to sleep and right now she was in a state of half-wakefulness.

Her mind was too foggy with sleep to realize that the bedroom door had opened or to register the light footsteps of a shadow advancing towards the bed. She didn’t notice a thing until the person had reached the bed.
Suddenly Hermione felt the weight of another body directly next to her. She couldn’t see who it was because she was lying on her belly, but immediately turned her head and fumbled for her wand which was lying on her bedside table. However, before she could do anything, she felt lips crushing against hers and another body pressing against hers. After a split second of horror, she realized that it was Ron, who had come home from his bar-hopping with his fellow team members.

“Merlin, Ron, you startled me.” she said angrily, after she had clamed down enough to reply. “What were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
Ron didn’t even bother to reply, but simply kissed her again, his tongue brushing her lips, demanding entrance. All of Hermione’s anger evaporated, as his tongue entered her mouth and started to dance with her own. She savoured his taste, a spicy one of cinnamon and oranges, with a hint of Firewhiskey, today. Moaning in his mouth, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and was a bit disappointed to discover, that he still was completely dressed.

Ron abandoned her mouth only to trail kisses down her sensitive neck, granting special attention to her collarbone. Hermione was unwilling to waste any time, so she started to fumble for her wand again. Hungry to feel his burning lips on hers again, she pushed his head up with one of her hands and kissed him, while the other finally found her wand. Quickly, she vanished Ron’s clothes and the feeling of flesh pressing against flesh caused her to gasp. Ron broke their searing kiss and started to suck on her left nipple, enjoying himself immensely as Hermione called out his name.

One of his hands buried itself in her hair, while the other one snaked down her body until it found the centre of her womanhood. He started to stroke her clit, feeling her bucking under him. Suddenly Hermione’s vision exploded into many black dots, as her orgasm assaulted her brain. The sensation was so intense, that her eyes started watering and she wished that she could keep this feeling forever.

Ron patiently waited for her first orgasm to die down. After a short while, she simply nodded and he slipped inside, burying himself up to the hilt in her. Ron started slowly, but picked up speed quickly, knowing he wouldn’t last for a long time after all the Firewhiskey he had consumed. The sensation of making love to Hermione never ceased to amaze him, she was a flame he was drawn to, like a common moth.

Both of them were quick to reach their orgasms and spent a few moments just lying in each other’s arms, catching were breaths. Finally Ron broke the silence:

“How was you day?”


* * * * *


In the meantime, the east coast Great Britain:

Crosis was standing on a high cliff and waited impatiently for the others to arrive. He was already in a bad mood and their lateness didn’t help to improve it. Finally, already half an hour late, two spots appeared on the horizon, one east and one west.

“Finally”, barked Corsis as Anhur and Shai landed next to him. “I asked you to be here half-an-hour ago, why the hell are you late?”
“If you had chosen a more civil place, we would have made it earlier.” replied Shai in her cold, clear voice, similar to a glass bell ringing. She pushed her long, golden hair behind her ears and gestured at their surroundings. Only water and deserted, rocky landscape surrounded them, a spot Crosis had chosen for its solitude. “The next time it would be nice to set up a beacon instead of describing the way.”

Before Crosis could respond, Anhur interrupted him, his divided face sporting what appeared to be an angry scowl.
“Also, who made you our chief? It’s bad enough that I still have to put up with you two losers after more than 4000 years, so don’t taunt me Crosis. I’m the strongest of you and as soon as Tourach shows up, I’m going to crush you both!”

“That’s exactly why I have called you.” said Crosis, completely unimpressed by Anhur’s threats. “All of us have come to this country, beckoned by an aura very similar to Tourach’s, but he hasn’t show up yet. Also I haven’t been able to find him; his energy seems to be anywhere. I’ve got no idea what he’s playing at. Maybe he’s taking his time preparing himself, maybe he’s a bit rusted in after 4000 years, in each case we can’t start without him.

What confuses me even more is that we are speaking this strange language, instead of our own ancient tongue. We are bound to be able to communicate with Tourach, but why should he speak another language by now? Nothing of this is making sense and as far as I know our options are very limited. We either could wait for him to show up or we could motivate him to show himself.”

“What do you have in mind, Crosis?” asked Shai, her eyes narrowed. She had always regarded his ideas dangerous at best.
“Well, we could cause a bit of destruction. Tourach has always been protective for the persons not involved in our conflict; maybe this would lure him out of his hiding.”
“But this is going to enrage him and I don’t fancy being at the receiving end of his wrath.” replied Anhur. “This should be the last straw we use.”

“Hey that’s actually clever, Anhur, you’ve been practicing?” replied Crosis, in a voice filled with faked amazement. “Right, here’s my suggestion: We wait for two more weeks and if he hasn’t shown up then, we’ll carry out my plan, deal?”

“Deal.” replied the others.