Minerva Gold and the Wand of Silver Pt. 06

"Who is he?" Minerva whispered to Selene.

"Oh," Selene said. "He's the Headmaster."

"Yes, but-" Minerva cut herself off, then realized with some relief that Gina had managed to squeak close to her and sat merely one seat away from her. Then that relief became mild mortification as the boy in that seat, frowning, was ousted from his chair by Gina, who beamed at Minerva as she claimed the seat.

"Hey!" she said, happily.

"Who is the headmaster!?" Minerva whispered.

"Oh him?" Gina asked, then laughed. "Right, I forgot, you don't know. He's Headmaster Merlin. Now! Let's dig in!"

The food was delicious, but the sight of the house fae bringing them in, not to mention knowing that her Trial was ahead of her, made Minerva feel as if every bite was like ashes. If she hadn't been so damn hungry, she might have nibbled, but instead, she managed to pack it away.

As she ate, conversation flew back and forth, with laughter and the occasional cry of 'hear hear' from every table. The only disturbance that drew her attention away from her plate was when a male voice, high and shrill, exclaimed.

"You take that back!"

"Oh, it was just a joke, Perkins."

The first male who had spoken was from the Purple and Gold clad Harrierette House table, and he was standing, glaring at his companion. He was thin, with a beaky nose and a nervous temperament. His opponent looked as powerfully built as someone who should step onto the gridiron, not sitting in house robes. He was rolling a scone back and forth across the dish, while everyone silenced and craned their heads. The teachers were frowning, but Merlin had lifted one hand - as if allowing this to continue for a moment.

"I've had enough of your...your...your intimations!" Perkins spluttered.

"I just said that if Bigsly here needed a loan..." The scone-man said, smirking cruelly.

Perkins' entire face went red as he realized just how much attention he was getting. "Lionel, I...I..."

"Yes, Perkins?" The more assured boy asked. "What is it, Perkins?"

"...nothing, I retract my statement," Perkins said, his voice stiff. Something that Minerva hadn't seen had passed between them. He took a seat.

"That's Perkin Cadfell-Mallard," Gina whispered to Minerva. "And I think that's Lionel Gawain."

"He seems like a bit of a prig," Minerva muttered. "What do you think he was needling Perkins about?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious," The boy that Gina had displaced asked. He was the same boy, Minerva noticed, that had retreated from Selene's oddness. "Perkin's family has taken on some poor buggers fleeing the continent, you see, Jewish wizards if you can believe it, and everyone suspects there's a family connection, right? Can someone pass the salt?"

"Oh!" Selene said, brightly. "Minerva's a Jew too!"

Everyone looked at her. Minerva, who was buttering her own bread, didn't change facial expressions at all. The awkward stillness continued for a beat, before the black haired boy coughed.

"N-Not that...well, there's nothing...I mean, you're also a Schross-Sableknight, right?" he asked. "I'm Sean, by the way."

"A pleasure," Minerva said, her voice dry.

The conversation seemed to have hit a rock at that point. Well, for everyone but Selene, who seemed to be utterly transfixed with regaling Minerva with everything she had ever learned about the mystical mutations that could be inflicted on someone for working in a factory. It was as if Selene had devoured book on book on book on the subject and found it all endlessly fascinating, and spoke about it with such frank and eager earnestness that Minerva felt rather like interrupting her would be akin to kicking a puppy. Gina did manage to find a place to say, in the edges: "Cor, and they made ladies do this?"

"Well, it was a war against the Germans," Selene said, cheerfully. "We had to...to..."

She frowned.

"Why did we fight the War of Shadows again?"

"W-Well, an Archduke of Austria was blown up by a Serb," Minerva said. "And we were allies with Belgium and, well, the Germans invaded France through Belgium."

"Yes, but why did we wizards get involved?" Selene asked, cocking her head to the side, her brow furrowing. "That was the part I never did understand, since my father died during the war."

"Oh...I'm sorry," Minerva said, quietly.

"It's okay," Selene said. "I was too young to remember it. Also, mother had to raise his shade to have me in the first place."

Gina choked on her wine. "Selene!" she exclaimed. "You can't talk about that kind of thing at the dinner table!"

After the meals were removed and everyone started to stand up, Gina whispered to Minerva. "Do you think that Selena's touched in the head because she's half a ghost?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"No..." Minerva said, firmly. "I've met girls just like her back in the mundane world. They're just..." She considered her options. "They're just like that."

***

Minerva was not the first called to the trials - she actually saw Katarina go ahead of her, the blond, buff girl flashing her a wicked grin, followed by a half-dozen other students. It seemed to take somewhere between a few minutes and, at one point, nearly half an hour, to process each one. But she was not the last.

"Minerva Schross-Sableknight," a school official who hadn't been on the table at the front of the feasthall called out over the waiting room where students whiled away their time before the test. It was a barren stone room with nothing but an out of place grandfather clock that ticked and tocked while men and women sat about, conversing quietly, and waiting for their name to be called by the same orderly.

Minerva stood, caught Gina's eye, and saw Gina giving her a cheerful smile and thumbs up. Next to her, Selene clapped her hands and smiled at her. It seemed she had well wishers at least. Minerva followed the orderly through a narrow corridor that grew increasingly cold and chilly. Minerva felt the cold seeping into her bones as the orderly reached a door that led into a stairwell that seemed to go straight into the earth.

"You will walk down to the Trial Temporalus," the orderly said. "In the antechamber, remove your clothing. Afterwards, you will be given something for modesty. Then, you will complete the trial before the professors. Remember everything, trust nothing and..." His lips quirked slightly. "Good luck."

Minerva gulped.

She started down the stairs. They curved sharply around a pillar in the center of the construction, with guttering, flickering torches in sconces. Each one she passed made her feel as if she was going deeper into some dark, forgotten past. The chill made her breath fog into the air and she continued down and down. She lost count of the steps she had made, and lost count of the flickering torches. She simply continued down, winding around and around and around...

After an eternity, she came to a roughly hewn corridor that seemed more natural than artificial, widening away from the final step and the final torch. Silvery light drew her forward. The air was so cold that she felt as if she could touch it with her fingers, feeling it tingle along her nose, her throat. Her fingers worked at the collar of her blouse as she came to the source of the light and saw that there was a vast, swirling pool of silvery liquid. Looking down at it, she saw glints. Flashes. She could see her own reflection in it...but in one second, her reflection was...

Well...

It changed.

The water rippled. There she was, her hair shorter and curlier, her lips skinned back in a cheerful smile, her teeth glittering with the awful dental contraption she had worn in her youth. Then, it rippled once more and now, she saw herself. She looked as she did now, her face smeared with black char. She held something in her hand and leaned against a wall. Something puffed from the wall, an explosion of plaster, and she jerked away from the impact, then stepped around, hefting the-

Ripple.

She saw herself, laying back in a bed, beaconing someone, something forward.

Ripple.

She saw a baby, squalling and screaming. Faintly, she heard a shushing voice. Soft. Feminine. "Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l'chayavim tovot she-g'malani kol tov..." Minerva frowned, the words...familiar. They were a prayer, but she hadn't heard it often. It sounded like someone calling out for good health - or thanking God for good health. Then, she heard a soft shshing. The baby quieted and the same voice murmured. "My little Minerva. Shh."

"M...Mama..." Minerva whispered.

She...

She couldn't remember her mother's voice.

The water rippled. An image of her, sitting bored in the underground.

Minerva squared her shoulders. She took hold of her blouse, then tugged it off her body. Her skirts followed. The cold bit even more. She shivered, breathed in, then leaped into the pool with a splash.

Warmth and silver light surrounded her.

***

In the silvery forest, Minerva ran. Her feet pounded as she sprinted, her red cape fluttering behind her. She thumped into a tree, clutched it, panting. Behind her, she could hear growling and snarling. Paws thumped along the ground and when she looked back, she saw the hounds. They were wrong shaped and when they spoke, they spoke in nonsense words - their elongated snouts opening and gnashing as they let rushed after her. They fanned out, and their collars glittered with red and black and gold.

Minerva had to keep running. Her cloak tore, leaving behind red ribbons. And still, the hounds chased.

She came into a clearing.

Tripped.

Skidded.

Then the hounds were on her, growling as they advanced, fanning outwards. One of them leaped - before a clawed hand lashed out of nowhere. Bitter black clawtips bit into the misshapen head and the hound had enough time to whine piteously before the palm bore down and the entire head burst into red ruin as the arm that came after the hand shoved. The figure that stepped between Minerva and the hounds stepped forward, snarling, growling.

"Away. She's mine."

Minerva's skin prickled and she scrambled backwards. The wolf...the woman that stood before her was impossibly large. Her shoulders seemed as broad as a house, her muscles strong. She was somewhere between man and beast, her snout long, her eyes golden. Fur bristled along her entire body, including her full bared breasts. Her nipples jutted, and her thighs showed a sheath and a bright red prick that thrust from it. Minerva whimpered and whispered. "I don't...I-"

The silvery paw that cupped her cheek was oh so gentle.

"But you do," the wolf-woman crooned. "Come." She cradled Minerva's head, then pushed her forward. Minerva's mouth opened and she tasted a feminine cock, thick, bestial and inhuman. Her tongue pressed against the thick glans that teased against her, then she leaned forward, unable to stop herself as the wolf-woman stood proudly before her. Her paw petted along Minerva's head as Minerva took more and more of her thick cock between her lips. Her hand reached up, finding the heavy balls of the wolf-woman. Furred and full of cum. Minerva's eyes half closed and the wolf-woman chuckled.

"Mine I said," she growled. "Mine I meant."

Her paws gripped to either side of Minerva's head and Minerva simply accepted what was going to come next.

The wolf-woman threw her head back, howling as with lustful need as she began to buck her hips, her cock thrusting down Minerva's throat again and again and again, making Minerva choke and tremble with pleasure. Her toes curled and her eyes rolled back as she was taken in this rough, fierce way, the woman panting and snarling as her heavy balls clapped against Minerva's chin again and again and again.

When she howled again, it was a higher note.

And Minerva drank.

And drank.

And drank.

When she drew her mouth back, she panted - and opened her eyes as she saw that she was no longer in the forest. Her arms were bound behind her back, tied fast by leather straps that glittered with gold buckles. Her mouth was closed, now, fastened shut by another binding around her mouth, around her throat. The leather bit gently, pleasantly. Her eyes fluttered shut as she wriggled, and felt that her thighs were bound as well, ankles together. She was entirely encased in leather straps, and each little wriggle and squirm she made made the bindings clink and jingle slightly.

Then...she felt something jerk upon her back. She swayed and weightlessness tore at her. Her eyes opened and she looked around wildly. Muffled cries came from her gagged mouth as she realized that her bindings had been hooked to iron chains. She hung in the air in a foundry of steel and heat. Flowing metal dribbled along lines while indistinct figures worked with immense hammers. The clang and clamor of the work filled her ears, while a crucible swayed by overhead.

It posed over her as she felt a finger of ice cold confidence crawl along her rump, teasing her through the leather. A crooning voice - as commanding as the wolf-woman's - purred to her. "Ah, my little silver one. What a mold you make. See?"

Fingers, firm and fierce, gripped her chin and jerked her head around. She saw the crucible pouring and the mold was filled. Steam hissed and the other hand - she could just barely catch the glimpse of golden fingers and an articulated, mechanical hand - plucked from the mold a book of leather binding and pages.

"Smell it."

The figure pressed the book to Minerva's nose, while her other hand held Minerva's head, forcing her to inhale it.

The smell of the book - the fresh paper, the ink, the leather - made Minerva...

Wet.

So fucking wet.

"Smell it, little slut," the golden woman crooned. "Fucking whore. You'll do anything for this, wouldn't you?"

Minerva, muffled, tried to say yes. Oh god yes. She would.

A golden finger undid a single binding and yanked. Her mouth opened and her tongue lolled out. She drooled, almost desperately, onto the book's cover. Her tongue flicked, but before she could taste the book, as she wanted, the golden hand withdrew it. "Say please, little whore. Little filthy witch whore."

"P-Please..." Minerva croaked.

"Please what?" The golden figure chuckled.

"Please let me...let me...let me lick it," Minerva panted.

The book opened. From her perspective, the pages were like a woman's thighs falling open. The words glowed with promise. Minerva whimpered. She leaned forward, craning her head, her tongue. The ache of effort in her jaw was intense. She licked and tasted the words and knew them. The knowledge was blindingly blissful. Then the book closed and the golden figure laughed.

"Beg more."

"Please! Pleeeeease!" Minerva writhed in the bindings and the restraints. "Please, I'll do-" She strained. "Anything!" She strained...and the leather straps broke. And she fell. Fell. Fell into the crucible, boiling and bubbling. The molten metal swept around her, warm and comforting. Minerva writhed, kicked, then swam upwards. Her head burst from warm water and she dragged herself onto a stone island that jutted in an underground cave. A fire burned before her.

Sitting within the fire was a woman. Her whole form was made of the parts of the fire. Wooden thighs. Charcoal breasts. Glittering sparks for eyes. Hair of flaming red, sparks weaving off of it. She giggled quietly. "Two for two, Minerva," she purred. "How predictable..." She crooked her finger. "Well, come on now."

Minerva, though, was feeling ragged and raw and tensed and eager and pushed. So.

She pushed back.

The fire woman squeaked as she was pinned onto her back, sparks flying as Minerva realized her hands had become silver and articulated, as if she was a doll made of pale machinery and glittering promise. Her fingers tightened and the fire girl gasped in shock...and eagerness. This time, it was Minerva who growled. Minerva who snarled. "Little fire bitch spread your fucking legs!" She took the fire woman roughly with her fingers, pressing her hands back above her head, the fire hot but not burning her. She knew she was wanted by the way wooden legs and coal-bright knees spread, how flaming ankles hooked almost behind her neck.

Oh how sweetly she moaned.

"Yes! Yes!" Her hips bucked as Minerva's fingers curved inside her, fierce. Hard. Feral. She growled and her claws dug into the fire woman's breast, drawing forth a glittering scatter of sparks that hissed and bounced off her. Smoke wreathed and she came, embers forming into stars that shone like gemstones overhead. She stood in an alleyway then, still nude and silver and with fire clinging to her hand. She panted as the stars became blotted out here and there by dark shapes.

Whistling screams split the air and a roar of fire and hate burst to her left. But she felt no fear. She walked forward and came to the middle of the city, where a throne on a plinth of glittering white skulls was surrounded by black faced mannequins. They carried rifles and bloodied bayonets. On the throne, a lounging figure sat. He was wreathed in silver and gold, richly decorated in gemstone necklaces. A cracked crown sat upon his head, and yet, he wore a pair of masks that seemed to neither suit his face. One was a stern, bearded man. The other, feminine and light, with warm lips.

With each step she took, Minerva saw the figure shift slightly - feminine curves appearing and vanishing.

"Well, then. This is what you wanted," the Two Faced King said, gesturing around himself. Bright lights stabbed upwards and dragons flew in the air above London. Screams whistled and roaring flashes came, thither and yon. Minerva lifted her hand. "This is what you always wanted, wasn't it? For us to fight?"

The dragons roared.

"Tell me, Minerva. Tell me what to do!" The Two Faced King stood. She...he...walked down the throne towards her, and with each step, they grew smaller and smaller. A scared child grabbed at her thighs, tugging at her, burying the two masks against her as they sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. "I don't know what to do! Tell me what to do!"

Minerva took the Two Faced King in her hands and lifted them up, whispering quietly. "You fight, King."

***

Minerva emerged from the silvery water. The room was warm. She felt at peace. Focused. She drew herself up and out and sighed as the silver dripped from her hard nipples and her fingertips. A house fae stood, quietly, to the side, with a towel and a white robe. He held the first to her, then the second once she had dried. Minerva gulped slightly as she started up the stairs - but rather than needing to climb the endless stairs, she simply found that the exit out of the silvery room was a door, which opened directly into an office with windows that clearly showed she was on one of the towers.

The impossibility she could ignore.

The desk across from her had the Headmaster and the head teachers at it. The Headmaster smiled. "Hello, Miss Sableknight," he said, spade-tipped tail twitching like a cat. "Welcome, come in. Your trial is over - you have been shown images of your fate. Or, at least, a spread of possibilities - some are contradictory, some are never to be, some are..." His lips quirked. "Merely metaphors."

He rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Take a seat and tell us what you've seen."