Chapter Eight:

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Chapter Eight: The Great Queen

The guests sat around at their tables chatting as they ordered their food from the menus at each of their places. Ginny had her father and her boyfriend either side and sitting across from her was Hermione and her brothers, except for Percy who was talking with her father. A few tables away sat Harry and the rest of the England team and their respective dates.

"In a few minutes he'll go and sit with Sirius and the others," said Charlie, seeing where she was looking and making her blush. "What'd say, Bill?"

"Definitely," said Bill. "Do you think the chicken looks good?"

"You're not having chicken are you?" asked Fred.

"There's enough for us all, Fred," said Angelina rolling her eyes.

"Yes, my dear, but I always have to be different, don'tcheknow."

Angelina sighed and returned to ordering her own meal. Ginny often wondered why Angelina had stayed with Fred, she was a beautiful woman and she had have had anyone she wanted. Hermione would say that "love was a strange thing" whenever she voiced her opinion on this, indeed it must be for an intelligent woman like Hermione to fall for Ron of all people.

Ginny had no other female friends besides Hermione though, she didn't seem able to get along with them. She was friends with lots of men, but when it came to women she tended to get their backs up. Hermione had assured her that it came from growing up with so many brothers and she just had a different out-look to women who had not had that experience.

"There he goes," said George, watching Harry walk across the hall and sit at his godfather's table.

"Well it's not surprising, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "He hardly ever gets to see Sirius and Medea because he's travelling so much all the time."

"Comes home every Christmas," pointed out Ron, his voice slightly muffled as he sipped from his glass.

"Drink it first, Ronald," chided Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll go over when the dinner's over," said Hermione. "I've been meaning to talk to Lyca, I haven't had half a chance yet."

"I always thought it was odd that Remus Lupin married an Auror, especially the chief Auror in Italy of all things, what him being a we –" started Percy.

"I don't think we should really go into that at the dinner table," said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

The dinner was quite nice and it 's pleasantness of only lessened when Percy was called upon to make a few rather pompous speeches as the Minster of Magic. Fred and George did lighten it up a lot with their commentary through-out, but Ginny got the impression that Jonathon didn't find it all funny.

After dessert and great stacks of biscuits and an assorted collection of cheeses appeared on everyone's table the guests began to dart between the tables talking to each other and exchanging news of what so and so had said to so and so during the meal. Fred and George were definitely having too much fun gossiping to the other guests, Jonathon was particularly disgusted that they were just making things up.

When Harry Potter strode over to their table, every single, female eye upon him Ginny quickly averted her attention to the piece of Stilton she had just cut for herself. "Justin, Elle, Sabine and me are going to go out to a bar – carrying on the party while those of lessened stamina toddle along home – want to come?"

"Sure," said George.

"Love to, my boy," said Fred, promptly turning to Angelina with a smile, "Of course I wouldn't dream of it –"

"What makes you think you're the only one going?" asked Angelina with a grin.

"Now that is why I married you," said Fred, kissing her.

"Count me in too, Harry," said Bill.

"Let's blow this conformist joint," said Charlie with a somewhat drunken snigger.

"Yeah, Harry," said Ron. "Love to."

"Don't mind me, Ron," said Hermione.

"There couldn't be a party without you, Hermione," said Harry, giving her a charming smile.

Hermione smiled at him, shaking her head as she laughed, "I would love to."

Harry turned to Ginny and Jonathon, his smile becoming somewhat fixed and obviously motivated by what he ought to do than what he wanted to do. "Are you to going to me coming?"

"Well –" began Ginny, not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable.

"We'd love to," interrupted Jonathon and Ginny surreptitiously glared at him.

"Great," said Harry. "We'll meet you all by the main doors when this do's over."

Ginny watched him walk back over to the other England players and her boyfriend eye him with awe. She sighed, fortunately unnoticed by her family, and dropped her chin into her palm as she awaited the Ball to end so she could be tortured for the rest of the night by Harry's absent words.

*****

Harry looked around the beautiful garden with wonder and awe. Beautiful trees surrounded him and they were filled with singing birds. Beautifully painted butterflies fluttered past him as he walked down the avenue of cherry trees, following the sound of music. Cherry blossom swirled around him as he stepped into the grove in the garden, in which a woman was playing a huge, Welsh harp.

"Hello?"

The woman ceased to play and looked up at him, "Yes?"

"Erm – who are you?" asked Harry carefully. "And how did I get her?"

"I should imagine you brought yourself here, Harry," she said and began to play once again.

Harry came forwards, "Excuse me," he said and she did not respond. "Excuse me!"

The woman once again stopped playing and looked at him, looking slightly exasperated, "What exactly do you wish to know?"

"How did I get her?"

"My boy, I have told you, you brought yourself here," she repeated.

"And who are you?"

"Rigantona," she said, beginning to play once more.

"Oh…" said Harry, giving up and looking around for a more talkative person who might help him.

He noticed a group of cages hung from the branches of a holly, little birds who flapping inelegantly around inside them. Harry walked up to them, across the grove, and peered at them through the gilded bars. He was shocked to realise that their beaks had been bound and they couldn't open them. Out of curiosity he reached forward to open one of the cages and – "STOP!"

Harry spun around to see Rigantona on her feet and advancing towards him, well at least he had got her to respond. She didn't look particularly angry at him, rather more upset and worried.

"Do not let those birds free, Harry," she warned him. "They are quite useful, but if you were to open their cages they would free and I would never see them again. Do not open their cages."

"Why are their beaks bound?" asked Harry.

"They will wake the dead with their song, Harry," she told him. "But here that is not necessarily a wise thing to do… There are a great many people who ought not to rise from the underworld. Do you understand."

"Yes, I understand," he said. "Will you tell me where I am now? One minute I was in my bedroom at Privet Drive, the next I was here."

"This could all be a dream you know," suggested Rigantona. "No? I suppose you know this place is real."

"What was it? A Portkey?"

"It's a bit like a Portkey," said Rigantona, walking back to her seat. "An in built Portkey, one that may take you home when you need to… You were wishing for you parents no doubt."

"I've wished for my parents before and nothing like this has happened," said Harry.

"You are older," said Rigantona. "Magic is quite like growing up – it grows while you are a child. The older you are the better at magic you are, the more stable your skills become… At least that is what I have heard, my skills are quite different to a witch's."

"You're not a witch?" asked Harry, coming forward.

"Goodness gracious no," laughed Rigantona. "What a dull little life I might lead! No, I am a Sidhe – you do know who they are don't you?"

Harry shook his head and felt like an apology was necessary, "I sor –"

"Don't be," said Rigantona quickly. "You have heard of Nymphs, Veela and House-Elves no?"

"Yeah – but you're none of those," said Harry.

"Of course not, Harry," said Rigantona. "But the Sidhe are a bit like those species, our magic is similar. We have taken it upon ourselves though to guide dead witches and wizards to their rightful place and do many other things, which are taken for granted. We have done these things for many thousands of years and now the Sidhe are nothing but a myth to both the Muggle and Magical world… That was our plan, you know, the Magical world was getting far too – far too violent! Prejudice was tearing the world apart and we chose to avoid if before it was aimed at us, as it was aimed at House-Elves and Nymphs and to a lesser extent Veela. Still we may not carry a wand – not that we need one of course, but it is not the point is it."

"So why did I come here when I was thinking about my parents?"

"This is Annwn, Harry," said Rigantona. "Your mother's father is from here – he is Beli, if I am not very much mistaken."

"Beli?"

"The lord of beyond," she replied. "You have quite a lineage you know, Harry. Descent from the great wizard Godric Gryffindor on your father's side, from Beli on your mother's… You would have lived here to if it were not for Dumbledore's insistence you grew up without knowledge of the Magical World. You were brought to us though, before you were taken to those – suburbs," said Rigantona, struggling with the unfamiliar word.

"So my mother was from here?" asked Harry.

"No – Bel left her mother, I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened. The silly man tried to get her back though, when she was older, but she was a clever little thing. She married her lad early and Beli had no rights, see. He had to give her up," said Rigantona with a laugh. "Ancient magic, oh she was a clever one. As I remember she wasn't at all keen on you knowing that you were descended from us either, wanted to keep you away from the more unsuitable elements in her family… Ha! Muggles on one side, Sidhe on the other! The poor girl!"

"So what am I doing here?" asked Harry. "Why would I come here when I was thinking about my parents."

"Ah! Come, Harry," said Rigantona.

She led him out of the grove and through a tunnel of honeysuckle, wet with early morning dew that dripped onto him as he walked through. The tunnel ended with a short flight of stairs onto what looked like a battlement. Rigantona led him up the stairs and when he reached the top he gaped with amazement.

Rigantona sat down in one of the crenels and invited him to do the same. Harry knelt down on the wall, keeping both hands on the merlons either side of him to stop himself from falling. He had a feeling that if he fell then he wasn't going to come back.

"Behold the underworld," whispered Rigantona in his ear.

Directly below him was a vast gulf, so deep that Harry could merely see blackness and indeed there was a blanket of clouds below him, the wall was obviously incredibly high. On the other side of this gulf into nothingness was a forest of grim, black poplars. From this altitude Harry could see beyond the forest though, there was a plain filled with spectres and ghosts, pale and colourless.

Beyond that ghostly plain was another castle, to one side a forest of white trees. Before it Harry could see three roads leading from the entrance, one to the plains before him and the other two lead in opposite directions.

"Where do those two roads lead?" asked Harry.

"It depends who you are, Harry," said Rigantona. "Both lead to judgement – the way you have lived your life is the judge."

"Er – what exactly would this involve?" asked Harry.

Rigantona smiled at him, "One must live a good life and be happy. To the right lie the Alisian meadows, only those who have lived the most wonderful and beautiful lives journey to the meadows. To the left are the lands that you will hopefully one day send your enemy, no-one wishes to go there when their time comes. And then there are the plains before you, where those who had lived unhappy lives dwell shortly before they return back to the Magical World to haunt the places where they fell."

Harry looked towards the bright meadows to the right, but the forest of white trees obscured most of the view. He almost fell off the battlement while he was trying to see the Alisian meadows beyond the white forest and Rigantona laughed.

"Your parents do not dwell on the plains, Harry, nor have their souls been judged ready for the bleak and barren lands to the left of the castle of Arawn… They lived happy lives and were died for a marvellous cause. I, indeed, cannot think of a more noble way to die, defending one's family from a murderer."

Harry looked over to Rigantona who was looking rather sad, "Did you – did you know my mother very well?"

She looked away from the plains and smiled sadly at him, "Oh yes. The fiery, red-headed child of Beli, you have his eyes."

Harry was rather surprised, no-one had ever said he had his grandfather's eyes before, just his mother's eyes. "It's probably worse to know that she's dead if you actually knew her – I don't remember a thing about her," he sighed.

Rigantona raised an eyebrow at him, "You are a Gryffindor no? Does not your daring allow you to traverse the underworld and will not your bravery hold you fast while walking through the throngs of spirits?… Arawn is a relation of yours, you know, he quite likes children too."

"Oh…"

Rigantona gave him another puzzled look, "Odd, you do not mind if I call you a child? Another might."

"I would like to be a child again," said Harry. "If I ever was, that is."

"Ah, things run deep in you, Harry," said Rigantona. "You will understand it all soon enough. But now, my boy, you must return to your home and remember that somewhere you have much nicer relatives, though Dumbledore would not like you to meet them."

"Why?" asked Harry.

But her answer was drowned in a swirl of wind and Harry's vision was blinded by a bright light as he felt the wind rush past him as he was pulled back to his bedroom in Privet Drive. For several minutes he lay on his bed silently, running through everything Rigantona had said to him through his head. But he had found out about the rest of his mother's family and part of him wondered if Aunt Petunia could possibly be at all related to that great queen he had met in the garden, surely not.

*****

Harry walked across the hall to sit at Celea Leone's table, she had managed to dismiss her underlings and all of the keen students of magic that usually attended her on these occasions. She was quietly sipping champagne and watching people mill to and fro around the room and between the tables.

"I thought you'd come by before you left," she said as Harry silently sat down.

"Sorry – I was going to come and say hello you know," Harry assured her.

"I am not a little girl, infatuated by your fame and looks, Harry," she told him with a smile. "I could not honestly care less if you came to see me or not, but it is nice to see you again, Harry."

"Any pearls of wisdom for me?" asked Harry, giving her a hopeful look.

"I think perhaps," said the Master, taking a sip of champagne, "it is time for you to understand, yourself and not simply learn from others and your mistakes."

"That's harder than it sounds," groaned Harry, pouring himself a glass of wine after conjuring up a glass.

"You could go and consult the Sidhe," offered the Master. "But I am afraid I do not think I ought to tell you anything… Except perhaps ask you to remember that power is over-rated."

Harry gave her an impassive look, "No, Celea – I gave up everything and I took away more of myself than I could have ever realised. I'm not whole and it's because of her."

The Master raised an eyebrow at him, "You gave it up voluntarily, Harry. Would you have preferred her to be dead right now? Certainly you gave up a lot, but you could have gained a lot more and even just one life is more important than power. If you had let the girl die when you could have saved her then you would have been as bad as Voldemort, Harry – just remember that before you do anything."

Harry gulped back the rest of his wine and went over to Sabine who was talking with her captain. Celea gave him a sad look as he left her table and took another sip of champagne. He joined the rest of the group headed for the bar and gave the Master one last look before heading out of the hall. As he watched Ginny with Jonathon he wondered if he should tell her what had happened and make her understand, but she wouldn't understand, no-one who hadn't lost the same thing he had would ever understand.

A/N: Before you say it, no the Sidhe are not gods. They just chose to guide spirits into the underworld, I'm not going to say why, consider it the equivalent of "something in the wood shed" – an unsolved mystery for those who haven't read Cold comfort Farm. Anyway only Arawn guides spirits into the underworld, Rigantona's castle in just on the edge of the gulf between the underworld and the otherworld, a pretty standard thing in any myth about the underworld.