FULL SUMMARY

It is ten years post-Hogwarts and Voldemort rules over a shattered Magical Britain where civil war is imminent, palace revolutions are brewing and Harry Potter leads a resistance based in the Muggle World. At the centre of all this is Hermione Granger, who is about to discover within herself an ancient power that may not only be the key to defeating Voldemort, but may also succeed in restoring to the Magical World that which faded into the mists with the death of a legendary king.


ANTI-LITIGATION CHARM

All recognizable characters and places related to the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers and Scholastic Publishing. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This story owes much to several facets of inspiration but, as they are much too numerous to name, I shall content myself with recounting those that are of perhaps the most import. The genesis is the result of Maenad's Challenge, however much it has veered away from the idea she set forth, and the idea of 'strega' created by Riley in Pawn to Queen even though I have not used her concept, history or terminology. Important literary inspirations and purloined ideas come from Marion Zimmer-Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, and readers Jacqueline Carey's novel Kushiel's Dart will no doubt find the Dark Court of Lord Voldemort a bit familiar. Dumbledore's line in the fifth prologue is courtesy of Mel Gibson's character, Benjamin Martin, from The Patriot. However, I wish to stress that this is NOT a crossover with any book or story in the traditional sense -- rather, assume that the events of The Mists of Avalon are a part of the history of the Harry Potter universe. Also, I believe Minerva McTabby created the character of Julius Marvolo that stars in her wonderful Two Worlds and In Between; I admit to liking the name Julius, but otherwise he bears no resemblance to her character.

I'm also twisting history a bit, especially the earlier dates. Unless otherwise noted, most information comes from A Short History of Western Civilization (8th edition; Sullivan, Sherman and Harrison). Most of my information on Hetairai (although I have greatly altered it for this story) comes from years of sitting in Classics courses, but for those interested in reading up on the subject try Goddesses, Whores, Wives, & Slaves by Sarah Pomeroy and/or Courtesans & Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of Classical Athens by James Davidson. Also, though it does not deal strictly with Hetairai, try The Book of the Courtesans: A Catalogue of Their Virtues by Susan Griffin.

This WILL be SS/HG, but there's a bit of ground to cover before we get there.

Also, please note that this series is a WIP and the rating will most likely go up (I believe I should mention here that I despise applying MPAA ratings to the written word). When that happens, I will post a new chapter page with the specific URL to that particular instalment; the full story is/will be available at [].

And last but never least, a special thank you goes to Enfleurage and Claire for the wonderful beta reading. Thanks again!

THE HAWKEFORTE LEGACY

By Nymue

There be none of England's daughters who can show a prouder presence …

-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

= = =

Prologue the First

England, 577 CE

= = =

Blood.

It was all and everything, Alwynn reflected as she sank to her knees amid a sea of scarlet; it formed life and death and its uses were too numerous and sacred to name. Surrounding her was blood, the blood of her family and kin and that of her enemies as the sounds of battle raged in her ears despite her attempts to drive it away as had her parents' loyal retainers. Her parents. Mother. Father.

Those whose blood ran in her veins.

And in whose blood she now knelt.

Nearby, her father lay dead on the field where he had fallen at the lake's edge and her mother was collapsed beside him, bleeding profusely from a wound garnered while trying to lift his body into the boat. Such an unlikely pair of lovers. Devoted, though, even to the end.

A watery rattle told her that Maeve still clung to her fleshly life, though likely not for much longer. "Daughter … "

Alwynn gripped her mother's hand. "Rest easy, Mother, please … "

A slight shake of the head followed by a grimace. "You … you know … what must be done."

"Mother -- "

"You will do … it is necessary, my daughter. Avalon calls for me, for you … "

It was true. Alwynn shuddered as the siren song of her home called to her once more, beckoning for the last time to those who belonged to the sacred isle. Though the lands of her father were hundreds of miles from Camelot, home of her cousin the High King, she knew Arthur had fallen … knew also that her aunts had passed on and that her dear cousin Morgaine would see their True Home but once more. Avalon had made its choice, as had many others of her family.

Now she must make hers.

"Alfred, your dagger," she requested softly, knowing without even turning her head or shifting eyes that her siblings had joined her. The ragged breathing of her oldest brother, now the Lord of the Fortress, was the only indication of his feelings; he well knew what was to come and what must be done. She knew he would not fail but she would not leave him and those yet unborn without protection, not if such a thing was in her power to grant. As the hilt slid into her hand the smooth silver of the blade glinted white under the first light of the moon and reflected the slithering runes that adorned her skin, Alwynn of the Hawke's Fortress, Priestess of Avalon, prepared to work magic the likes of which had not been seen or heard of in many a year. She straightened her back and tipped her head to the moon as she called on the magic -- that of blood, flesh, earth and spirit -- she had learned at the knee of the Lady of the Lake, magic she had hoped to never use.

"All life is a cycle," she intoned. "We are born, we live, we create, we die and are born anew. Tonight death surrounds our family and threatens to disrupt that cycle before it can continue to begin -- tonight death lingers longer than it should -- tonight the cycle must be restored and protected. May the Goddess understand my deeds," Alwynn whispered as she sank the dagger into her mother's breast.

Maeve's eyes shone with thanks before life faded from the soft green orbs, and a sharp cry escaped from one of the younger children as the truth of the situation was finally rendered clear to any who remained in doubt. Blood gushed as Alwynn withdrew the dagger and slashed open her arm and that of her brother, Alfred, and that of each of her siblings. Tears ran openly down her face though her voice never wavered, never cracked, as she wove magic into her words and bound their blood to the land. "This is our blood," she told them. "This is our life and the life of our future, we who are the scions of the Sacred Isle of Avalon and the Lords of the Hawke's Fortress. This place is the earthly domain of our line and will always remain so, unto the thousandth generation. Here will we be born, live and die and no one shall take it from our blood; nor will any enemy set foot upon the borders of our home, and those who do will face the burning wrath of the Daughters of the Blood."

Alwynn looked to her brothers. "I charge thee, Alfred, Lord of the Hawke's Fortress, and all others of the Line, to remember that the ways of the Fortress are the ways of Avalon. Even should the interlopers succeed in forcing the ways of Rome upon the whole of Britain, remember that True Power lies within the Daughters of the Blood. Honour your sisters and daughters as you shall your heir, for in the goodness of time they shall restore you to Avalon. Trust not the invaders from afar but remember that our allies are those closest at hand -- those of the bees, of the burrow, of the looms and of the crucibles."

Alfred bowed his head and clasped his fisted hand to his heart in acknowledgment and acquiescence.

"And Tamsyn," she whispered to the small girl clinging to her skirts. "My little sister … you have not yet seen five years of life and still I, like our Lady Mother, must leave you. My heart aches more for you than any other for you should have seen Avalon and now you shall not … the magic of Merlin is all you shall know, all any of you shall know, 'til a Daughter of the Blood embraces the gifts of Avalon. But know this -- the Goddess will always be here though Her form may change. Trust in Her and seek Her ways when you are able and one day, my darlings, Avalon will return to this world."

With this Alwynn stood and stepped from her family into the boat even as her brothers lifted the bodies of their parents and moved towards her as if to send them to their True Home. "No," she whispered and they stopped. "Our Mother has found Avalon in death and our Father's place was ever here … let their ashes mingle together here where they made their lives."

"If it is your will," Alfred responded, knowing without fail that even now his sister spoke for Avalon.

"It is. Farewell … "

Tamsyn watched through her tears as her sister's boat floated toward the eventide moon and vanished into the mists. A great rumbling echoed in her ears and sadness flooded her blood as she felt rather than heard Avalon disappear from the world of men and magic. Everything would change, she thought as one of her brothers lifted her into his arms. Everything had changed.

Avalon was no more.