#bartprompts20

“How?!” Bartimaeus and Nathaniel exclaimed in unison, matching looks of horror on their faces.

“Hold on, hold on!” Kitty exclaimed, frantically flipping through the massive stack of notes in her lap. She sat cross-legged in one of the summoning circles, occasionally shooting a worried glance at the pair in the adjacent set of runes.

“You’d better fix this stat, kid,” said Nathaniel’s body, though the voice that came out of it was distinctly not his. Kitty paused her wild search to shoot a scathing look across the room.

“If you’d like to do this for me, be my guest!” she snapped, and the boy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He made a move as if to rise into the air but only succeeded on tripping over his own feet and falling hard onto his knees. He let out a shriek of pain and cursed in a language a thousand years forgotten.

“Hey! Watch what you’re doing with my body!” the djinni by his side exclaimed, floating a little too high. Still grumbling, Nathaniel’s body righted itself on shaky legs, then quickly grabbed the djinni’s foot and pulled him towards the floor.

“And watch what you’re doing with mine, you idiot! Do you want to phase through the ceiling?!”  

“Will you two shut up?!” Kitty yelled, and the pair froze to look at her. She sighed and went back to the notes. “I must’ve misread something, or spoke the wrong syllable somewhere… Sorry, I’ll fix it in a moment!”

Bartimaeus and Nathaniel looked at each other, and then the floating djinni’s shoulders sagged.

“We know, Kitty, no need to apologize; we're sorry for being so difficult,” he said quietly, and the boy holding his foot widened his eyes as if he’d just heard someone confess to a murder.

“Wow, Nat, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Bartimaeus commented.

“Oh, be quiet,” Nathaniel snapped. “And stop smirking like that; it makes me look demented!”

“What, like this?”

“Ugh, yes! Stop!”

Harry kept staring at the kid who had just called him ‘Potter’. «I was supposed to talk with the Muggle Prime Minister».

«Mr Deveraux is busy» Mandrake replied. «Besides, I’ll ask you to not use that term».

«Look who’s talking» commented the dark boy behind his back. Mandrake scowled at him; the boy grinned back at him.

«I was saying, Mr Potter, we’d rather call… not gifted people, well, commoners. We are magicians, like you, even if I think you use another term».

«Are you really a minister?» Harry blurted out, having listened to a word, more or less. Look at that…

Mandrake stiffened; the half-dressed kid started laughing openly.

«Bartimaeus, shut up» Mandrake hissed. «Yes, Mr Potter, I am really a minister. And it seems hypocritical to me that you should criticize my age, seen your record».

Harry raised an eyebrow. «What do you know about me?»

«Oh, I’ve been gathering information» the other one, seemingly Bartimaeus, coughed excessively. Mandrake sighed. «My servant here had been gathering information» he corrected wearily. «It seems you have done nothing but saving the world since you were one year old, Mr Potter».

Harry looked that pompous boy more carefully. What the hell did he mean with ‘servant’? They were more or less the same age…

«I understand, Mr Potter, that your magic works in an innate way, more or less like the magic of dem… of spirits».

«Yes» said Harry, wondering what spirits were, or even better, what Mandrake meant with spirits. «We are born with magic. Or we’re not. And we use wands to control it». He pulled out his. Mandrake’s eyes turned round as marbles, and even Bartimaeus seemed interested.

«May I?»

After all, why not? Harry gave it to him. The boy, intrigued, turned the wand over in his pale fingers, then he tried to wave it. Nothing happened.

«Hey, Mandrake! What’ll happen if I try, in your opinion?»

Mandrake looked at Bartimaeus: he seemed conflicted, then, clearly, curiosity won. The dark-skinned boy took the wand and waved it: a ball of fire bolted out from it and went and set fire to the curtains.

Harry sprang up, tore the wand away from Bartimaeus’ grip and extinguished the fire quickly. Then he turned around to look at them, shocked.

Mandrake coughed. «I think djinn have too much magic for it to be channelled».

I pressed more my back against Queezle’s. Ptolemy wasn’t much tall for a fourteen-year-old, so the maiden surpassed me by all the head.

«Well, it’s not very different. Just… a lot of scuffles, all of them together». Blond hair tickled my shoulders. «Are you worried?»

She made a very unladylike snort. «Please. I’m perfectly capable to look after myself».

I made an even louder snort. «Oh, you are but a newbie!»

She shoved me with her shoulder and turned to watch me surly. I grinned at her.

«Have I to remember you who took care of that bunch of spies while you were too busy telling our master about his poor physical shape? And then taking your punishment?»[1]

I raised my hands. «No need to dig past pain up! And actually, you were laughing too».

She rolled her eyes. «Of course».

The silence that fell was pleasant, soft. It wasn’t bad having someone which you could talk intelligently with, since most of our colleagues was made of idiot foliots. Queezle was a breath of fresh air in that gloomy castle.[2]

«May I confess you something?»

I made magnanimous gesture. «Of course».

«Sometimes, I miss all of this while I’m in the Other Place. Not the slavery, of course, but… Earth. It’s so… fascinating».

«It has its merits» I agreed, swinging my legs down the balustrade.

«I envy you».

I turned around. The maiden looked at me with her head tilted, blond locks hiding her face. «You’ve seen so much, done so much…»

«I wouldn’t recommend it» I muttered. «It’s… hard».

«But it’s worth it».

I didn’t answer. Was it really worth it? Suffering, crawling, stealing, passing from one master to another, from one war to another for… seeing the starry sky now and then? Being carried away by the wind and the sun?

Queezle pressed her shoulder against mine. «Now don’t make the old grumpy face».

«Do I look old to you?» I replied, peeved.

She stared at me. «You do, when you frown and mutter like that. You’re old, all right, but there’s no reason to show it so».

I flailed, insulted. «I won’t accept this kind of offenses from who has never fought a real battle».

«It’s not fair!»

She shoved me so hard that she tossed me down the edge. I let myself fall for a moment, then I sprouted a pair of wings and flitted up again.

«Queezle! You could have killed me. Ah, there’s no respect for elders anymore».

She giggled, her green eyes bright, and she pulled me to sit near her again. «You’re too hard to kill. And actually, I’d rather wait for the battle. I’d rather have someone trusted in the melee with me». She leaned on me.

She was so… young, sometime.

«I agree wholeheartedly» I whispered.

[1] It was absolutely worth it.