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Other useful AI Removal/Detection links

How to spot AI Hallucinations like a Reference Librarian (originally on Substack)

part twenty previous / next

part nineteen previous / next

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / (we are here)

part one beginning / next

Close up

Alfred: Yes, hello, Clockwork. I know it's been a while since we last spoke-

Clockwork: It's been fifty years, three months, five days, and four hours since our last conversation.

Alfred: Have you been counting?

Clockwork: *Hiding his time staff behind his back* No.

Alfred: Right, because that would be silly of you. We broke up ages ago.

Clockwork: Yes, quite silly. It's not like I broke a law of order to extend your lifetime or that I made it so age does not have a hold of you, allowing you to keep the mobile abilities of a twenty-seven year old.

Alfred: That's true. Most of my acquaintances near my age are always complaining of the aches in their bones. I appreciate it.

Clockwork: Of course. Anything for you.

Alfred: I still age though?

Clockwork: Yes but very slowly. You'll outlive Bruce Wayne.

Alfred: ....you made me immortal.

Clockwork: Yes! :D

Alfred: Can I trade my immortality to turn back time for twenty four hours?

Clockwork: What?

Alfred: The reason I called you was because my grandson Jason Todd died earlier today. I was hoping you would do me a favor and allow me to go back to yesterday and save the lad. I was going to offer my soul for this favor, but if I can trade my immortality, that would be fine too.

Clockwork: But - without a soul, you would suffer a punishment worse than death, and without your immortality, time would catch up to you, leaving you in extreme pain!

Alfred: I'm fine with that. All I want is to save my dear boy.

Clockwork: How....how about a counter offer!? I'll have one of my men save your boy by turning back time, and you won't have to give up either!

Alfred: What of the price? We both know that for all your power a price must be paid for alternating fate.

Clockwork: Don't worry about that. You see fate has already fortold this path. Remember I see all.

Alfred: *Smiling* Thank you

Clockwork: *Flustered* O-of course.

Two hours later

Danny: So I'm going back in time to save a boy from getting beaten to death by Joker

Clockwork: Yes.

Danny: Is he someone important?

Clockwork: Why yes, he is. Congratulations, you're engaged.

Danny: WHAT?!

Clockwork: Look Fate only allows for changes if it's in the name of true love.

Danny: True love!? I don't even know him?!

Clockwork: No, my true love.

Danny: Are you talking about the English Butler that dumped you!? He's never coming back Clockwork!

Clockwork: You don't know that!

Danny: I seriously do!

Clockwork: Just go save your fience! I have to pretty myself up when we deliver him to Alfred. I'm getting my man back.

They go through their days, and Harry is distracted by friends, loved ones, strangers on the street. Voldemort hates it. He hates their touches, their affection, hates the time that Harry spends, hates the attention that Harry grants them. He feels like one of the old gods, jealous and capricious, when the shriveled monstrosity of his heart dares to object. Intellectually, he knows that other people are necessary to keep the boy happy, but knowing is not the same as feeling and even then he hates that it is true.

Hate has been his bosom companion for over seventy years, and even now it curls like a viper at his left-hand side. Most days, there is little Voldemort does not hate.

How strange then, he thinks to himself, that he does not hate this.

There are no other people in the bedroom with them, no one to steal away Harry's attention, his countenance screwed up with focus that is for Voldemort alone. Harry, having shed his outer robes several hours ago and now donning a soft pair of long cotton sleep pants over his underclothes, finishes tying the knots on the silk rope that bind Voldemort's hands to the headboard. Harry isn't wearing a shirt, scar from the locket still emblazoned proudly on his chest, but he's still clothed in more than Voldemort who has long since been stripped down to nothing. Harry is too considerate a lover to permit Voldemort to catch a chill -- there are plenty of warming charms upon his person and the room at large -- but the exposure of his own alien form to the soft lamplight of their room makes him want to pull back, retreat from view.

inspired by these gorgeous works of art by @stolenviolet, although some liberties have been taken

First Duel

The first duel, also traditional (if only among those families called to the Dark), is next. Mrs Weasley had loudly protested its inclusion, relenting only when Harry told her he’d demanded it himself. He needs it, if he’s going to do this right, and he’s determined to do it right. Voldemort values him as he values any of his horcruxes. In making sure Harry understood what this meant, Snape was relentless. And what it means is this: Voldemort does not love him. Voldemort does not particularly want him, either. But Harry is going to make him.

The thing about dark magic is that it increases the frequency of nightmares. Some darks wizards might end up having them more often than not sure, but some people like Voldemort struggle to sleep at night because they are so intense.

Not just nightmares, oh no. His dreams leave him so terrified that he is certain that he has already been ensnared by the cold clutches of death and all his horcruxes have perished. He is less than a memory, and nothing he ever did mattered in the end.

When he wakes, it takes him at least an hour to shake off the terrors of his dreams before he is able to start the day.

That was until Harry "Has-a-saving-people-problem" Potter started showing up. Voldemort doesn't know why they are sharing dreams, but what he does know is that Harry Potter is a true Gryffindor through and through.

He can't help but save him each and every time even though he does it with a scowl on his face and hatred in his eyes. The problem now is that he is taking too long to do it. Harry, still ever a human, watches him suffer for a while before he moves into action.