Chapter 25 The Propecy of Gwenc'hlan



The kitchens of Montmuran were impressive. They had been preserved from those days, when the fortress hosted not only the family of the Dukes of Brittany but also their soldiery.



Montmuran had been a fully operational defense for almost a thousand years and only the coming of modern warfare with powerful weaponry to substitute for men, horses, archery, blank weapons, canons and siege engines had emptied the premises during the last quarter of the XIX.Century and after the Franco-German War of 1870/71. Since then the Dukes had it transformed into first, a large exploitation and finally the agriculture enterprise. This had been the work of Severus father, Aurelian.



Soldiery had been replaced with farm hands, agriculture engineers specialised in breeding of lifestock, mechanics, a small veterinarian clinic and artificial insemination station for the Holsteins and even an accountancy service of eight full time accountants and a lawyer for tax and investment issues. But these people, contrary to the traditions of the days of old mostly did not live on the grounds of the Fortress. Some of them effectively never ever had put foot into the Brocéliande Forest, prefering their airconditionned offices in Rennes' ‚Zone Industrielle' to cows, horses and huge muddy tractors.

The second economic outlet of Montmuran, a big ridding club and the studs had hotelry and even a restaurant. But neither was located in the fortress. They occupied an annexe property, about 1,5 km away from the fortress with own personel and separated by three meters of medieval stone walls. Aditionally it was the business of Severus' eldest sister Gwenael and her non-magic husband Michel Gurerard, a well-renowned French ‚Chef'(1). ‚La Domaine des Iffs' proudly displayed its two ‚Michelin Stars'(2).



Habitually Michel would rather enjoy the peaceful family diners in the Medieval Garden then to fumble around in the Montmuran kitchens himself, but today he was here at the special request of his mother-in-law Geneviève. Under the attentive eyes of the elves, his own wife Gwenael, Myriam, Geneviève and Delphine, he was engaged in building up a strange and very complicated cake. The thing had the form of a dragon, more precisely a Hungarian Horntail Dragon.



„Now quickly the ‚bisquite'", he motionned over to a house elf that stood by a large oven. The tiny little creature flipped the oven's door open and extracted with great delicacy a plate on which a fine, yellowish and airy consistency lay. It was exactly 1,5 cm high and warm.The little elf carried the oven form with the ‚bisquite' as if it where raw eggs.......and indeed for ‚the Chef' it was. Michel lifted the stuff with a fine wooden spatule and placed it delicately in the dragon form he had specially created for the event from marsipan.



„I always loved watching this part of the game!", Gwenael took a sip of Earl Grey tea, „That reminds me of a sculptor, creating a piece of art!"

„It is a piece of art, dear! And I ensure you, it's much tastier then bronze or marble.....", Michel looked up from his work for the quarter of a second. The tiny house elf watched with terror a small piece of bisquite slidding to the left, but before she could make the remark to the ‚Chef', his crafty, experienced fingers had it back in place.



„Will be fun to see young Harry's eyes when he finds the ‚beast' at midnight on the table in the garden.", sniggered Delphine. Although totally non-magic, the Horntail would spit fire for a short time. Michel Gurerard was reputed for deserts that suddenly ‚became alive',"Where is the young man, by the way. Neither he nor Morigan turned up in the stables and I did not see them at either breakfast or lunch!"



Gwenael turned to her sister and smirked.



„Oh, oh!", the younger women replied knowingly,"T'was about time for the two to solve that issue.When they disappeared yesterday after diner for a ‚walk in the forest', they already looked as guilty as the cat that stole the cream........" She gave a small glance to her wristwatch and realized that it was already early afternoon,"Obviously they have good fun......anyhow, by midnight we should have them back with us for the cake. They must get hungry and thirsty a moment or another! "



„I brought them a snack and drinks upstairs!", a tiny house elf in cute ‚Petit Bateau' childrens clothes - navy style cotton sweater and blue cotton skirt- sniggered.



„Will you manage with all those guests that will arrive tomorrow?", Michel casually asked his mother in law and ‚Pervenche' the chief house elf, who sat next to her mistress with a cup of cherry juice. Michel was to much in his ‚Hungarian Horntail' then to pay any attention to the kitchen rumors about Morigan's and Harry's ‚amourette'.



Genevieve looked at ‚Pervenche', who gave a reassuring nod. They had all guest rooms ready. Most of the food stuff was done and down in the dungeons in a very un-magic freezing chamber that worked on electricity. Although Pervenche mistrusted the cables and occasional sizzling of the installation when a heavy wave of magic shocked the electronic components of the thing, she had to admit it was practicall, when receiving loads and loads of guests.

She put her finger on her nose in thought for a moment:„Although we would not say no, if you could make ‚Mousse au Chocolate' and ‚Iles Flottantes'(3), Master Michel! Yours is simply tastier then ours. You must show us again that trick of yours with the adding the ‚Creme fraiche' and the chocolate nuggets....", the chief house elf replied dreamily.



They were all experienced elves, but to learn new receipts and tricks from one of France's best ‚Chefs' was something they really enjoyed, also Master Michel never allowed them to touch anything in his own kitchens. They were his sanctuary, his jewel and no one but him would create and cook there. But instead of doing the job themselves, they were allowed to watch the master and.......test his creations!



Pervenche put her cherry juice on the table, then stood up and went over to the ‚Horntail' with keen interest in her eyes. The ‚Mousse au Grand Marnier' waited to give the ‚bisquite' its fill. The colour was a light, delicate orange. It had been kept at a very precise temperature during the other preparations, so to be firm enough but not hard. Michel beamed with pride, when the body of that complicated form finaly stood firmly on four sturdy chocolate legs.



„How's Sev doing,", Geneviève lowered her voice, when adressing Myriam. The others did not listen. They were to much caught by the crafty work of Gwenael's husband and the ‚Horntail' who took more and more the appearance of the design that was scotched to a blackboard close to the working table.



„You know that I promised him never to try and read his mind!", Myriam gave a tiny sigh, "But from feeling him, I would say he is more or less ok. I woke a bit earlier then Severus and while sleeping, his aura was light grey. It had not darkened, but you must take into consideration that he was with me, someone he trusts. He felt perfectly secure. ................even during the worst moments after Voldemorts first fall, when he came out of this gruesome place Askaban, his aura turned from almost black instantly back to light grey when I was around. Geneviève, I may not be the best judge in Sev's case."



„Neither am I, child! None of the family is. When he is at Montmuran he's an ambulant cameleon, changing colours as soon as one of us comes into his view. The elves tell me also he's light grey as usual......", the elder woman said with a hint of sorrow in her voice. She knew the dark potential and powers of her son only too well. Merlin was the son of the Devil and each of the three heirs of the ‚Old One' had inherited the peculiar dark powers that came with the blood of the ‚Evil One they carried in their veines.

Severus two predecessors, Chyndonax(4) and Gilles de Laval(5) had shown their terrible magic in times of dire emergency and when their world had been in danger. They had called upon the elements to devour the enemies of their kings and people, they had waged destruction beyond the imaginable when no other way out was left.

Gilles, after the betrayal, process and execution on the stake of his pet witch Jeanne d'Arc had even never ever managed to get his light grey aura back. He'd ended almost a dark druid and only the fact that the King of France had him executed for a political pretext eleven years after the coronation of Reims had avoided larger problems and re-established the equilibrium. Geneviève was fully aware of the fact that Severus had prefered Gilles over Chyndonax, when he had been an apprentice at Avalon. Chyndonax had been more a philosopher and theologian skilled in the divine nature and able to communicate with the gods easily, while Gilles was clearly a warlord in the first place. That he also excelled as a seer, healer and alchimist was more the add-on than the principal.



Myriam put her arm gently around Genevièves shoulder:" Simply trust your son's judgement. If it needs rough methods to get rid of that demon Voldemort, he'll employ them, even at the risk of resorting to his dark side for a while, but he'll return. He has returned the last time, too! He knows that staying there for too long would break our bond and there would be no way back. Feeries do not make mates for dark druids, we never will......... "



„Bless you, child!" Geneviève murmered. She did not want the other members of the family and the house elves learn about her sorrow. As the situation presented itself today, it was perhaps better to trust Myriam's judgement of Severus'.



Around the working table of Michel Gurerard there were loud acclaims and some of the tiny house elves even clapped their hands. The Hungarian Horntail stood proudly on a huge silver plate. As a last finishing touch Michel deposited with great care a nest made of fine caramel strands between his frontlegs. Four chocolate eggs laid in the nest and the cake dragon guarded them with fierce red candy eyes.



„Now all we have to do is get young Harry out of our ways for a couple of hours tonight!" Delphine sniggered exitedly. She had grown very fond of the boy over the last months he'd spent with them. She also knew his ‚history' in each and every detail. One year after Harry's parents death and the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort , Severus had returned to Albus Dumbledore, her father's best friend and he had claimed the child, telling Albus that having been the bane of the Dark One, he must be brought to Myrrhidin and raised in the Kreeden Geltiek even if he was not of the blood. Severus had claimed Harry, because he had listened to the bards after he had given them his account of the fight against Voldemort. Her brother had been in a state of near despair in front of the ‚Great Gorseed', because he considered the fact that he had failed to destroy the dark wizard with his Death Curse a sign of Cernnunos (6)

the first-born of Nature -Anu the All-Mother- , a punishment for the countless other death spells he'd been obliged to cast against innocent magic and non-magic folks in order to keep up his cover inside the Death Eaters. Having potentially angered Cernnunos meant for Severus that he would not get his grey aura of equilibrium of the powers of nature back. He would be condemned by the gods; condemned to stay dark and to become a wanderer between the worlds after his death, a shadow, an outcast never to cross the limits back into Brocéliande! A Heir of the Old One who was refused his grave under ‚La Roche aux Fées' and even worse, who'd not be allowed to return to Avalon. An old bard had risen in trance in reply to his account and sang „Diougan Gwenc'hlan"(7). Sev considered this an extremly strong sign that in order to appease Cernnunos he must go and claim the boy for them. The ‚Diougan' stated clearly „Pa ne vin klasket, vin kavet, Ha pa 'z on klaket, ne z'on ket" - „If they shall try and find me, they will not, but if none looks after me, I will be found", but Dumbledore had refused stubbornly, declaring her brother's interpretation of the propecy exagerate („You are not in your habitual state of mind, Severus!") and his preoccupations with the anger of Cernnunos a stress syndrom after two years of deadly dangerous undercover activities and - including Askaban- four months of brutal physical and psychological abuse by those of his own side.

Sev had come back from Hogwarts like a beaten dog. For the fourtyeight months that followed this ‚No' of Dumbledore's he had factically gone into hidding, avoiding the stone rings, the power, the brethren and even the ‚Old One' from sheer fear that he carried his dark aura like a highly contagious disease.

He'd returned to Claude Fillon, traded alchimy for bio-chemistry and a scientist's job at the DGSE. The sole and single magic he did during this time was to apparate regularly to a house in England, whose adress was Privet Drive N°4. There he'd sit in his raven form on a tree for hours and hours, observing helplessly how those stupid non-magic relatives of Harry mistreated and abused the child.



„Well," Delphine said to herself,"at least now the kid is with us and if he wishes so, he'll never ever be obliged to return to his non-magic folks!"

1. ‚Chef' is the name given in France to a top class cook. It takes a very long apprenticeship with other chefs and rigid exams, before one is authorized to use this title.

2. Michelin is a French Gourmet Guide; restaurants rank from no star to three stars. Three stars are accorded to only a chosen few. The stars have to be earnded annualy from specialised journalists, who travel the country and test the food and wine.

3. Typically French deserts

4. Prince des Vacies Drvydes Celtiqves Düüonois and Archdruid.His tomb had been discovered near Dijon in 1621 by Guenebauld: The inscription, translated in French reads as follows:

"En ce tombeau, dans le sacréé boccage
Du Dieu Mithras, est contenu le corps
De Chyndonax grand Prestre; mechant hors,
Les Dieux Sanneurs le gardent de dommage."

5. Gilles de Laval, baron de Rais, was named as marshal of France on the occasion of the coronation of Reims (in July, 1429). This fourth office that was created specially for Gilles de Rais, because of its behavior in the defense of Orléans. Some claims that Jeanne d'Arc said to him on the day of the liberation of Orlééans: "My sweet Sire and so brave and so good companion, I have succeeded in this company because I must to you more than in quite other"! The bravery of the Baron de Rais, disputed by numerous authors, was to be darkened by his actions later in his life. He was condemned and put to death on October 27, 1440, for crimes of perfidy, murders, witchcraft, denial of the Faith and sodomy. Gilles de Laval was also a reputed alchimist, but this point did not play against him, when put on trial.........considering the long list of ‚crimes' he was already having, it was perhaps not that important that he stirred around in cauldrons, too.

6. Cernnunos, a nature and fertility god, has appeared in a multitude of forms and made himself known by many names to nearly every culture throughout time. He is perhaps best known to us now in his Celtic aspects of the untamed Horned God of the Animals and the leaf-covered Green Man, Guardian of the Green World, but He is much older. Cernnunos worked his magic when the first humans were becoming. Our prehistoric ancestors knew him as a shape-shifting, shamanic god of the Hunt. He is painted in caves and carved everywhere, on cliffs, stones, even in the Earth Herself. Humans sought to commune with Him and receive his power and that of his animal children by dressing themselves in skins and skulls, adorning themselves with feathers and bones, by dancing His dance.



In his Underworld aspect Cernnunos is The Dark Man, the god who dwells in the House Beneath the Hill, the Underworld. He is the one who comforts and sings the souls of the dead to their rest in the Summerlands of the Otherworld. Cernnunos, as Master of the Wild Hunt, who pursues the souls of evil doers, is not associated with a biblical or even modern morality, but with the protection and continuance of the Land and Nature and the spirits that dwell therein. He also has a darker, dangerous nature. The panic or terror often associated with him is not related to human violence, but to the Life and Death of the natural world. In modern times he is often called the God of the Witches and embodies uncorrupted masculine energy. A masculine energy that is fully-developed and in balance with the natural world

7. The Propecy of Gwenc'hlan is a very cryptic thing; it is kind of a vision: The wounded boar, representing the foreign (British Isles) prince is surrounded by other, smaller boars that beat him furiously, when from the sea rises a white horse with silver corne (representing the Breton prince; Breizha-Brittany is always associated with the sea). It strikes the smaller boars furiously and drowns them in a sea of blood, thus saving the wounded boar from his own kin.

For those interested, here's the full text in Breton:

Pa guzh an heol, pa goenv ar mor, Me oar kana war dreuz va dor. Pa oan yaouank me a gane;Pa 'z on deuet kozh, me gan ivez. Ma gan en noz, me gan en deizhHa me zo keuziet koulskoude. Mar d'eo ganin stouet va beg, Mar 'm euz keuz, n'eo ket heb abeg! Evid aon me n'am-euz ket; N'am-euz ket aon da voud lazhet! Evid aon me n'am-euz ket; Amzer awalc'h ez-on me bet! Pa ne vin klasket, vin kavet, Ha pa 'z on klaket, ne z'on ket. Na vern petra c'hoarvezo: Pez a zo dleet a vezo.Red eo d'an oll merbel teir gwech, Kent evit arzao en-divez. Me wel an hoc'h o tont diouz ar c'hoad, Hag en gwall-gamm, gwallet e droad; E beg digor ha leun a wad, Hag e reun louet gant an oad; Hag e voc'higoùù tro-war-dro,Gant an naon braz o soc'ho.Me well ar morvarc'h o eneb-tont,Ken a gren an aod gant ar spont. En ken gwenn evel an erc'h kann; En e benn kornioùù arc'hant. An dour dindannan o virvi,Gant an tan daran euz e fri; Morgezeg endro dezan ker stankHag ar geot war lez ar stank. -Dalc'hmad'ta, dalc'hmad'ta, morvarc"hDarc'h gant e benn; darc'h mad'ta, darc'h! Ken a risk er gwad an treid noaz
Gwasoc'h-was! darc'h-ta, gasoc'h-was! Me wel ar gwad evel eur waz!Darc'h mad'ta, darc'h-ta, gasoc'h-was! Me wel ar gwad hed penn he c'hlin!Me wel ar gwad evel eul linn! Gwasoc'h-was! darc'h-ta, gasoc'h-was!Arzaoi,a ri benn arc'hoaz!-Darc'hmad'ta, darc'hmad'ta, morvarc"hDarc'h gant e benn; darc'h mad'ta, darc'h! Pa oan em bez yen, hunet douz,leviz an erer o c'hervel en noz.E ererigoùù en a c'halve;Hag an oll evned euz an nenv;Ha lavare dre e c'hervel:-Savit prim war ho tiwaskel!
N'eo ket kig brein chas pe zenved,Kig kristen renkom da gavoud!-Morvran goz,klev; lavar din-me:
Petra a c'hoari ganit aze? Tal ar Penn-lu c'hoari ganin;E zaoulagad ruz a fell din. E zaoulagad a grapan net,Abeg d'az re e-deuz tennet. -Na te, louarn, lavar din-me,Petra a c'hoari ganit aze?- E galon a c'hoari ganin,Oa ken diwir ha va-hini, E-deus c'hoantaet da laza,E-deus da lazet, a-bell zo. Na te lavar din-me, touzeg,Petra a rez aze e korn e veg? Me a zo aman n'em laket,O c'hortoz e ene da zoned.
Ganin-me vo tra vin er bedEn damant glan oc'h e dorfed E-kever ar Barzh na jomm kenEtre Roc'h-Allaz ha Porz-Gwenn.

This form of the propecy - a poem- is attributed to Aneurin, Taliéésin et Llywarch-Hen, bardes that have been living between the VI.th and the XII.th century.