Growing up Pureblooded

Arvek, not Urvak

     Back in the Chamber, Sirius was trying all manner of spells on the door of the shrine, without any luck. Mopsy had gone to fetch reinforcements, and Remus was attempting to translate the inscriptions on the walls.

     "Come here, Padfoot," the werewolf called out. "My runes are a bit rusty." Sirius headed over to where his friend was standing. "I doubt mine are any better." "Well, maybe we're at least not rusty in the same places," Remus replied with a smirk. He ran his finger along one inscription. "Here Slytherin is saying that this tower is the source of his power, the hiding place of his three greatest treasures."

     Sirius nodded, following along. "The Puddle of Likelihoods, the Cooking Pot of Perplexity and the Rosebush of Snakes that guards them both." "Padfoot, I think that last one says arvek, not urvak," Remus pointed out, trying not to laugh.

     "Sorry," Sirius mumbled. "So that's the Duke of Snakes, then." "Or perhaps the King of Serpents?" Remus suggested wryly. "Shut up, Moony." Remus laughed. "How did you ever manage to get an O on your Ancient Runes O.W.L.?" he teased. "The translations are supposed to be idiomatic."

     "Considering my O.W.L. was the last time I looked at a bloody rune, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well," Sirius growled back. Remus shook his head, laughing. "So we've got the Puddle of Likelihoods, the Cooking Pot of Perplexity and the Duke of Snakes – or, translated somewhat more poetically: the Pond of Possibilities, the Cauldron of Confusion and the King of Serpents."

     "You know, Moony," Sirius said dryly, "if you don't want my help, I can leave you to translate the wall by yourself, Mr I-barely-scraped-a-pass-on-my-Runes-O.W.L.-because-my-oh-so-poetically-idiomatic-translations-were-oh-so-very-wrong."

     "Pure-blooded ponce," Remus mumbled, resorting to a favourite insult from school days. "Half-witted half-breed," Sirius shot back automatically. And they went back to translating the inscription.