Thence come maidens
much knowing
three from the hall
which under that tree stands;
Urðr hight the one,
the second Verðandi,
on a tablet they graved,
Skuld the third;
Laws they established,
life allotted
to the sons of men,
destinies pronounced.
~ Völuspá (Prophecy of the Völva) from the Poetic Edda
It was quiet for all of two seconds before Victor exploded in Bulgarian. The two men battled back and forth for a moment in native tongues, Victor yelling and Dyre responding with a hint of iron. The Bulgarian suddenly pointed angrily at Hermione. Dyre gave him a hard look and said something that made Victor relax marginally, though he still was quite upset. He retook his seat, scowling.
Dyre turned back to the Englishmen, undaunted.
"The Norns are old goddesses, masters of the weaving. They will know which thread beget this tapestry and where it will lead."
"One does not just summon gods, Dyre," Dumbledore said.
"No," he agreed. "Particularly such gods at the Norns. I will not be using a standard summoning circle. I wish to express an invitation, one which they will be unlikely to refuse but not incapable."
"Because of your eye," Lily said, staring at him.
"Yes," he said simply.
Severus sniffed, rolling his eyes slightly.
"That's what you've been working on?" Draco said. "This invitation?"
"Sounds like you have to build ritual circle from scratch," Lucius said before he could answer.
"Don't envy you," Sirius muttered mirthlessly.
Dyre hummed. It would help if he could write his notes down, but without his glasses, he would have to pull the sheet all the way to his nose and squint to read it. Really, he'd just rather memorize everything.
With a huff, Victor nudged his side and gruffly extracted his glasses from his belt. Dyre stared blankly at them. He spoke again in Icelandic though they caught the name Karkaroff. Victor gave him an unimpressed stare, which made Dyre's eyes crinkle with a suppressed smile. He took them with a nod of thanks.
"I didn't know you wore glasses," Sirius said, making Severus scoff.
Dyre shrugged with only his head. He slipped the frames into the collar of his tunic and leaned forward.
"There are no existing circles for what I want."
"Why don't we work on it together?" Dumbledore suggested, transfiguring a quill and parchment.
Dyre made a disgruntled face but declined protest after a moment. Dumbledore laid the sheet over the coffee table and gave an encouraging smile. Dyre sighed and pulled out his glasses again. They were crude things, the frame made from wire, the right eye empty. Odd things on his severe face.
He dipped the quill in an inkwell and with careless calligraphy sketched the runes that he needed and the code horizontally in the margin. The group leaned over to examine it.
Dyre set it aside and pulled a few thinner scrolls out of his tunic. He unrolled them and dipped the quill in again. Quickly, he sketched two of his previous, discarded designs. The first was a nonagon, and Draco could see the problem. The sides connected, but it was horribly unsymmetrical and some of the points went unused. It looked crude and unstable even on paper. The second was a triangle, and it had the same problem.
"Have you thought of changing the code?" Remus said, studying the lines.
Dyre shook his head. "This is what we need. Anything else and they either disregard the message or it won't be strong enough to reach them."
"Does it have to be symmetrical?" Lily asked.
"It would be best," he said. "These are much too disorderly."
Lucius thumbed the edge of a line. "What if you were to make the perimeter a circle?"
Dyre nodded. "But what would be the base?"
"You should trash the nonagon," Severus said. Dyre looked up. "It's obviously screwing the rest of the lines. You don't have to have a point for every line. Just reuse some points and adjust the runes."
Dyre's eye flickered behind the spectacle. He pulled the first parchment to him. He hesitated only a moment before drawing the circle, amazingly symmetrical. Then, with much more care, he drew three acute triangles inside it, one pointing straight up and two other dissecting it from either side. He emphasized the points that each corner made.
"That's still a nonagon," Severus scoffed. "And an uneven one at that."
Dyre ignored him. With precision, he connected five of the points.
Hermione gasped and clapped her hands. "Brilliant!" she exclaimed.
"But those two points aren't even connected," Sirius said.
"And there is no center," Remus added.
"But that's the beauty of it!" Hermione declared. "It's a living circle! You're going to have it move aren't you?" she directed at Dyre.
Without waiting for an answer, she unearthed another quill and took a corner of the table. In one of the unmarked regions, she redrew the circle and the hexagon. This time, the points of the triangles rested on the unused points rather the base of the first triangle. The interlocking triangles formed another set of four smaller triangles and a diamond in the center.
"This is what you want, isn't it, Dyre? This is absolutely brilliant! It'll act just like a door. And the code fits perfectly! Now you just need the runes."
He shook his head. "I know the runes," he said. He stared down at the rough sketch as if he couldn't believe it had been that easy.
"It is amazing what you can achieve when you combine your efforts," Dumbledore said with a smile.
"You aren't doing this alone, are you?" Draco demanded.
Slowly, as if still half in shock, he shook his head. "I need you to stand at the points."
Draco smiled, pleased.
Victor released a gruff grunt. "Hermione'll not be in the ritual."
Before Hermione could protest, Dyre nodded. "I need only nine."
"But, Dyre, I want to see it work. A ritual like this has never happened before."
"Do not allow your desire for knowledge to cloud your judgment," he snapped suddenly. Hermione drew back, startled. Dyre gave her a grim glare, softening only slightly under her wounded expression. "This could not have been completed without you, my lady. You have great intellect, but you are inexperienced. You do not need to be there and anything else is vanity."
Hermione glanced down at her lap.
"Maybe you should tell us what will be expected," Lucius said.
Dyre nodded. "The Norns will offer three answers to three questions. No more. No less. And after, they will demand a price."
"What sort of price?" James asked guardedly.
Dyre gave another polite shrug. "The price of knowledge." He paused. "Sometimes, it is proper to acquire sacrifices, things of value or power to offer them." His brow drew down in thought, examining the circle.
"I don't think prepared items will work this time."
"Why not?" Sirius asked.
He thumbed the edge of the parchment. "I'm not asking them for an action. For something to be done. The summoning is a circle as well," he mused, though only Lucius and Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. "They will take from each point," he said, touching the tips of the nonagon so that names appeared beneath his fingers in gold print. "No one values the same thing. And I do not have the time to look for articles of power."
"You are not alone, Dyre," Dumbledore reminded him.
Dyre blinked and returned to the map. "Yes," he said slowly. "Knowledge is power," he softly said, "but the geometry is not symbolic of physical matter." He closed his eyes, thinking quietly and still. "No, they will ask for time."
When he didn't speak again, Severus sent him a disgusted glower. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Life," Dyre said, as if it were obvious. He pulled a face and said a word in Icelandic. Victor gave a small commiserating look but had no answer. "Time in a life," he said. "Everyone has a time to live. Life."
"Lifetime," Draco said.
"Yes." He gave an irritated look. "They will take this, cut the lifetime. I don't know how else to explain it."
"I think we understand," Lucius said.
"How much will they take?" James asked.
Dyre shook his head. "It's complicated. Only god-eyes see the length of threads."
"But you have a god-eye," Sirius interrupted.
Dyre stared at him. "You wish me to measure when you will die?"
Sirius grimaced and went still.
"Will they ask for all of it?" Lucius asked, abating the tense silence.
"Of all of us? I think it highly unlikely. There is no cunning in such murder." His expression turned frustrated and he moved his hands to cover his jaw.
Gods don't do anything directly. If the gods were involved, there was a story in this. If there wasn't, then he was just wasting his time. The circle would fail. But he was sure, so sure. The voice in the ley, the riddle it gave, where there were riddle there was a god.
It was strange, being bred for a story. He wasn't entirely sure that this tournament was part of the climax or a stepping stool. It had the rhyme of tapestry, but of everything he'd experienced here, he found it so hard to imagine himself the hero. He just wanted to be free. He wasn't fighting for some great cause, had no resolve but the very human desire to live. He wasn't winning kingdoms or claiming the fall of monsters. Even with his mysterious, unwanted god-eye, he was doing nothing of worth save holding Draco's hand, and he doubted the great weavers of the world would care much about that.
"Dyre?"
He shook himself, ridding such thoughts.
"They cannot ask for my lifetime. This is why I need you to stand at the foci."
"Why?" Remus was first to voice. "I mean, why can't they?"
"You need us to be your price?" Lucius added.
Dyre hesitated. Then, he sighed. "I am… not sure what my own lifetime looks like. I seem to be… mostly mortal," he said, staggering. "It is obvious I was born mortal," he continued in a rush. He touched his head. "But I've survived death and madness. Some I know was by the Maiden's grace, by my curse as well, but the mixing of immortality is not an easy thing. I am still limited by my own understanding."
"What does all that mean?" James asked.
Dyre shook his head helplessly. "It means that my lifetime might have already ended."
They paled. There was nothing Dyre could do. For a moment, he was sure they were going to argue with him but they didn't. He didn't know if that relieved or aggrieved him.
"We're in," James said suddenly.
"I cannot divide the points," he said. "There are nine foci. I must either have them all or none. The ritual will not work."
He actually found it rather amazing that the circle worked out like this. Nine spaces. Nine people. With him on the outside as castor. It made him more nervous than comforted.
"I'm in," Draco said.
"Count us both in," Sirius said for him and the wolf, who gave a firm nod, eyes bright with gold.
"Of course," Lily said passionately, her own eyes wet and fierce.
"I will gladly assist you, my dear boy," Dumbledore smiled.
"If my scion is determined to risk his life, then we have no choice but to follow," Lucius said briskly, though a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth conveyed his pride. Narcissa smirked beside him.
"You've all gone mad," Severus said bitterly.
Dumbledore patted his head. Severus snarled and batted his hand away.
Dyre stared at them all. So willing to give up their lives… He looked down at the sketch. It was perfect. Everything had fallen into place. Already, he was reconstructing the runes he needed, assigning the points along the compass and matching the directions to their magicks.
Skuld.
He was already beginning to regret this.
o.O.o
Dyre checked the measurements he had taken again, though he doubted that the level of anyone's magic had changed in the last three minutes. The room in the dungeons was dark, fouled by disuse. The dust had been cleared out, the rats scattered, and the small animal bones banished. He had scrubbed everything clean of any residual magic, natural or otherwise. The stones were stark and sturdy, perfect for what he needed.
With a measuring rod and a bottle of sulfur, he laid out the lines. The yellow powder looked strange on the stone. It smelled awful, but it was the least confining of the heavenly substances, the triad of ascension. In mercury, he drew the triple spiral in the center and laid the runes in salt. It was painstaking work, started in chalk and washed and redrawn whenever he missed more than half a degree.
But finally, the points crossed perfectly. The tip of the pentagon pointed north. Dumbledore, the most powerful of them, was to stand there atop pertho, the tipped cup. The other four points were assigned isa for stability. The rune was only a single line, the most malleable but also the strongest. He put Remus along the isa in the east, the transformation magic of the were combining with the birth magic of the rising sun. Lily would stand at the isa southeast, James along southwest and Sirius in the west, each couple on the opposite end of the other.
Lucius and Narcissa would occupy the two remaining end points of the triangles, Narcissa in the east since she was a mother. He scribed the rune of knowledge beneath them. Draco would take an eastern point as well, on either side of Remus and Lily. His youth would allow him the rejuvenation of the rising sun. Severus would stand at the other lonesome point, too Dark for anything other than west. Beneath both of them were eihwaz, the spinning Yggdrasil, the rune of wisdom, that which contained the mystery of life and death.
Dyre wasn't sure what the importance of that was yet. Only that the runes fit and that Draco and Severus were the only ones among them capable of taking root at the lonesome tips of where the triangles would move to. The bonding spells between the couples would otherwise interfere with the solidarity.
He remeasured everything then added the ansuz runes to the four triangles that the triangle bases created. That would change when the circle activated, adding two hollow triangles towards the center, but it was a small enough slight.
He shut the journal, reaching to take off his glasses. The candles would stay in the four corners of the room, each at a cardinal direction. Flames were probably a bad idea – too wild – but they needed to see anyway, and water would wash away the salt and sulfur. Though wood, he mused.
He nodded, making a note to ask Dumbledore for wooden stubs to replace the wax. He'd have to ask everyone to remove any spells on their robes. Protection spells, even a warming charm, could disrupt the balance of the circle. He opened the door and blinked when he saw all nine of them standing there with a conjured table, scones and playing cards.
"Finished?" James asked.
He gave a mental shake. "I need four wooden stubs. Preferably not from the Forest," he added, thinking of all the Dark magic lingering there, though all fairly natural. "A forest near a muggle village would be best."
Lily was the one who offered to go, taking a brisk walk to the Floo in her quarters.
"If any of you are under any spells or have any on your robes, you need to remove them."
The Malfoys, Severus, and Dumbledore knew well enough that the circle would react badly to foreign magicks and had dressed appropriately. Sirius grumbled, removing his cloak and rings and passing his wand over his shirt. Remus was fine, but James too had to remove his cloak, adding his insignia ring to the table.
"What?" Sirius teased Draco as he undressed. "No glamour charms, princess?"
"You might want to remove the extension charm in your trousers, uncle," he shot back.
"Oi! You little prat, I'll have you know that is purely natural. Right Remus," he leered.
"Leave me out of your perversions," the werewolf said lazily, adding a queen to his game of solitaire.
"Well that's no fun," he grinned then slipped off his shoes to remove his socks.
"You charm your socks," Lucius said, a brow tilted.
"They last three weeks longer without a wash," he said proudly.
They scrunched their noses.
"That is foul, Sirius," Narcissa said, glaring at him.
He shrugged nonchalantly. Remus shook his head, receiving several pitying glances. Sirius suddenly turned his attention to Dyre, giving him a suggestive leer.
"You just wanted to see me strip."
Dyre raised his brow in a slightly Malfoyish manner and did not respond, but his gaze slid to Draco, who struggled not to smile. Sirius let out a shit-eating grin. He spun around on his heel and deposited himself on Remus' lap, which scattered the cards and trapped his hands beneath his weight awkwardly.
"Well, at least Remus'll appreciate me."
"Get off."
Dyre ignored the animagus and removed his belt, which held his dirk and ritual dagger. He kept the switchblade in his boot. He'd played with the small, compatible blade a couple of time, not enough to feel satisfied but enough to know that it would not interfere with any of the magicks. It could not hurt to have it. Though attacking the Norns with a switchblade was ludicrous.
He looked to Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to leave your wand out here."
Dumbledore didn't look surprised, removing the wand from his sleeve. He set it beside Dyre's belt.
"What about ours?" Sirius asked curiously.
"I dare not leave you completely unarmed," he said a little sharper than he intended. "Though what good it would do is uncertain."
He stared as Severus' arm for a moment, his expression thoughtful.
"You know of the Mark," the man said. It wasn't a question, since this had been the second time his arm had caught the lad's attention.
His eyes narrowed a little. "It is familiar. Karkaroff bears the same magic as does the scar on my eye."
Severus' head snapped up with an audible pop. "Your eye?"
"Just the scar," he said, unperturbed. "I have wondered before if it is this which causes his control over me." It was said absent-mindedly, but he had their stanch attention.
"What about the crest?" Draco asked. "You know." He pointed awkwardly to his back, looking sheepish.
"Of course," Dyre said. "It was a passing thought. Coincidence."
Draco frowned. "I thought you said there was no such thing as coincidence. Only skuld."
Dyre gave a full-body shudder, like someone had walked over his grave.
"Well, that was ominous," Sirius said when it became silent.
"That was not good," Dyre said seriously. He looked at the door behind him, an uneasy look on his face.
"Superstition," Severus waved off with a sneer.
"This is an omen," Narcissa said, holding her elbow while she placed her finger on her lips.
"For what?" Sirius asked.
She grunted at him and sent him an irritated look. "I don't know, Sirius," she said waspishly.
He gave her an offended look, making a face. "Sor-ry."
Footsteps were heard down the hall, and Lily appeared with a bundle of sticks before the Blacks could get into a squabble.
"Sorry," she panted. "I didn't really know what you wanted. Will this do?"
"Certainly, my lady. My thanks," he said, taking the twigs from her.
She brushed off her blouse and skirt. "You can call me Lily," she said quietly.
Dyre gave her a slightly uncomfortable look but didn't reply. He went into the room, leaving the door open. They gathered at the threshold to peer inside.
"Woah," Sirius said. "This looks… complicated."
"Much too complicated for you, Black," Severus sneered. "I must admit that this is impressive work. And it will move?"
"Yes," Dyre answered simply, blowing out the northern candle and moving counterclockwise in lighting the brush.
It did not shed as much light, casting the room in long shadows that somehow mysteriously did not touch the circle, which remained visible as if the candles had not been extinguished. Dyre was sweating by the time he finished. He patted a cloth across his forehead, trying not to desecrate the floor.
Damn it, he probably should have bathed. They all should have bathed. Nevermind it, he decided. There was no way of reading the time down here, but it would be morning soon. That would be the best time to start. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.
"Headmaster, if you would stand right here," he directed, keeping everyone else past the door.
Dumbledore obeyed. He touched the man's arm and felt for the channel of his magic. He tied a strand to the base of the rune and felt it move across the lines, hitting four other points then another two. Dumbledore shivered.
"Are you alright, sir?" His eyes were intense on his face. Strong emotions might disrupt the summons.
"Rather startled but just fine, my boy."
He nodded. Odin, this had better work. He brought Severus in next, anchoring his magic – more gently – to one of the two points that Dumbledore's magic could not yet reach. He called Draco to occupy the other. One by one, he directed them to the runes and chained their magic. The sulfur began to glow faintly like saffron, clogging the air with a putrid stench. The salt's glow was slower, but soon a faint scent like ocean rode beneath the hellish flavor. The mercury shone wetly in the center, gleaming.
He'd warned them already to neither speak nor move. Power swarmed the air, sizzling. Magicks started to crack, Light and Dark rubbing against one another in nettlesome friction. Their hair stood on end. Dyre darted around the circle, sealing the last of their magicks together. The vibration started up in their bones, making their teeth ache. Dyre was suddenly very grateful for the fours, which kept them from exploding.
He had considered using incantations to invite them, but actions spoke so much louder than words. Bowing his head beneath the growing pressure in the room, which made his ears pop, he rose his hand. Like it was seizing around an imaginary block, his fingers tightened, the tendons in stark contrast. He closed his eyes and felt the circle, felt the lines, the conflicting magicks, the sun rising slowly like a pendulum in the east.
It was beautiful, this symmetry, the power coursing so superbly through the lines he had created. Like an art. He felt the strain, the way the world wasn't sure if it wanted to follow him. His muscles quivered, throbbing painfully, but he held onto the circle.
Don't force it, he heard the Maiden's voice. The Earth flows, Dyre. Do not seek to interrupt it. It cannot be controlled. Ride it. It wants you to accept it, to love it. Ride it.
He waited for the moment, the moment when a cock started to crow outside Hagrid's garden, when the sun peeked past the first of the many hills of Scotland, when the ripples of the Great Lake seemed to yawn. That moment when the world deemed the morning…
There!
He rode the power of the earth waking. His hand moved counterclockwise east to west. He could feel the lines of sulfur shifting, hear the drawl like whispers of sand and paper. The triangles turned like an hour hand, one to the west and one to east. Simultaneously, one landed at Draco and the other at Severus, both of whom ogled at the structure teeming beneath their feet. The diamond created by the triangle moved perfectly over the triple spiral, the three curved legs of the maiden, mother, and crone.
Dyre's left eye sparked to life. He felt it teeming with memory, glowing, and he allowed it. The air was heady with so much power it was painful, making his teeth and bones crack, his skull vibrate. He breathed in the salt, which somehow overrode the sulfur, allowing it to refresh him. The fires' crackle was the only warning he got before he suddenly knew.
They were here.