Foreseeing Fate
A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Moey

~*~

Author's Notes:  This story has taken a very different turn than what I had originally thought.  Thanks to Arabella for kixing my butt last night.  Maybe I'll finish before June 21st after all.  ;alskjdf;laskjl;asdjl;askdfj

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

~*~

Chapter Four: Should Have Seen It Coming

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott
~The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson

~*~

She really was the cleverest person he knew, but the more he thought about it, the more Ron wondered how she hadn't worked it out.  She saw him looking at his tea leaves every morning.  But in fairness, that was more of a habit really -  a habit developed purely to annoy her - they weren't reliable.  Although, sometimes they could tell you whether or not it would be a smart thing to go back to bed.  Ron laughed to himself.  He hardly needed tealeaves to tell him that on most days; it had been his experience that most days weren't worth the effort it took to get out of bed.

Of course sleeping alone didn't exactly give him a reason to stay in bed either. 

Ron shook his head to rid himself of the thought of Hermione asleep.  In his bed.  Without him. Damn.

Hermione.  She was hurt and angry that he hadn't confided in her.  But what was he supposed to do?  Put her in even more danger?  After almost nine years she was still a complete mystery at times.  He wondered why she'd never cottoned on and then settled for what he had always thought in the first place - Hermione hadn't really ever wanted to know.  Not since she left Trelawney's class in a huff during their third year.  He smiled at the memory of Hermione Granger walking out of a class - she had made him very proud that day.

But there were lots of reasons, a lot of strange instances that gave him away over the years. But the thing that really baffled him, the one thing he always thought should have put up some sort of warning flag for her was that he had showed up at her parents' house just before the group of Death Eaters had arrived to demolish it and do who knows what to her parents.

Come to think of it, these things didn't put him in the best light.  It was no wonder he had often been accused of being a Death Eater spy.

During their seventh year, Voldemort had caught on.  He had caught on to how hard Harry had taken the deaths, and sorted out who was the closest to him.  Still not able to get into Hogwarts, he went after those who weren't there.  Hermione's parents, being Muggles had been among his first targets.

Ron hadn't been looking into his teacup or a crystal ball when he saw it.  He rarely used those mediums, relying instead on his mind to be able to sort and shape the images.  The images that were always there.  You had to know how to tune them in, how to focus on the important ones. 

It wasn't that he saw the future exactly.  Actually, he saw several.  Seeing was the easy part; actually picking out the one that would happen - that was the trick.  The possibilities of what could happen were infinite.  It was hard as hell to sort out what you were seeing, let alone decide if what you were seeing was of any importance.  However, sometimes the important visions came to find you.

Ron had learnt quickly how to call up the visions as well as how to suppress them.  Knowing whether or not Snape would take ten points from Gryffindor or what they were having for lunch weren't very important.  He practiced with those sorts of things, but they never just popped into his head.  But when something was so close to you, or close to someone you loved, you just couldn't suppress it.  It smacked you in the head to get your attention.  That's what had happened that night.

Ron hadn't even been sure that he was right about Hermione's parents, but it wasn't worth the self-doubt.  That night, most of the Gryffindors were sitting in the common room doing homework.  Hermione and Harry had been in their usual spots by the fire.  Harry looking miserable and Hermione almost hidden behind a stack of books.  N.E.W.T.s are almost here!  I'm so behind!  Ron could still hear the panic in her voice.  He had been having a lie down in the dorm, something he usually did after his lessons with Trelawney.  Except that she was gone and he hadn't been practicing as much.  And since he hadn't been practicing it resulted in a spectacular headache and lying down was the only thing for it.  Just lie down and focus.  Neville had been in the dorm that night.  He wished he'd been nicer to him.  Ron winced at how he'd treated Neville - like the annoying younger brother he never had; the one he himself had been.  Ron just hoped that Neville realized how much he really cared.

Once Neville had left he'd been able to concentrate, to really see.  That's when he saw Hermione's parents.  He saw what could have happened to them - what would have happened.  He'd made it there just in time.  You couldn't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but some of the Chimneys were connected to the Floo Network and his father had connected the Grangers to the Network years ago.  His only problem had been getting the Floo powder. 

Then he remembered that Hermione had some…

They'd used it to see Sirius.  And to go to the Shrieking Shack.

Ron had run down the staircase through the common room and back up the girls' staircase.  Luckily, neither Parvati nor Lavender had been in the room at the time because he hadn't had much time, let alone the time to spare dealing with the uproar he would have got from them for barging in.

Ron sat back in his chair at his desk in the Ministry's main building; magical maps and reports hid the surface.  He had just returned from the field and should have been working on some of the reports, except…

Except he couldn't think or focus.  It was that bloody book.  It had everything all screwed up.  

There was nothing else for it; he'd have to listen to the book. The pull of some things was just too strong to ignore.  First checking that his office door was locked, Ron cleared a space off on his desk and reached down inside his satchel, pulling out the book.  The visions started almost at once, swimming past.  He concentrated hard to control them. 

It was the map.  He went through the book several times more and the map always called him back.  Glastonbury.  He'd been there before – on a family trip.  Growing up, his father had told them all the stories about King Arthur and his knights, and Ron still loved them.  Well not the romance part – that he'd never understood.  How could she be so wishy-washy?  And how could that nancy-boy Lancelot even think of taking his best mate's girl?  Rubbish.

The parts that had always intrigued him were the battles, in particular the final one where King Arthur had been killed by his own son, and then taken to the Isle of Avalon to await the day he would again be called to service.  The Once and Future King.  That's what he was called – in both the wizarding and the Muggle world. 

Hermione had once given him some Muggle books on the subject. Their myth was almost exactly the same as the wizard myth, the main difference being that the wizards emphasized that the wizards and witches on Avalon had chosen to hide themselves from the outside world.  Persecution from the church and the demise of Arthur, their one faithful supporter, as well as the disappearance of Merlin had sparked their decision.  It was said that they had taken a lot of the old magic with them that day, and that the wizarding world had lost a great deal.

The one thing that his brain kept telling him was that it was a myth.

The book, however, was telling him otherwise.

~*~

"But the Isle of Avalon is myth.  In the wizarding world and the Muggle world."  She knew he was going to be irritated, but she couldn't help it.  It was like she had to say things out loud so that they made sense to her.  Not because she thought he didn't know them.

"Well, could you let the book know, because it won't listen to me," Ron snapped.  "Look, sorry," he said in a more soothing tone, "just come over here.  There's a couple things I need to show you because I need help sorting out what they're telling me."

She took the seat next to him at the table, pushing the remaining supper dishes out of the way.  He placed the book between them and pointed to an old map – of what looked like Britain, but only larger. 

"This map, here.  This is what really wants something."

"What is it a map of?" she asked.

"It's Britain."

"Looks awfully large.  They really had it wrong, didn't they?"

"No, it's actually really on the mark for it's time.  You're just thinking of Muggle maps.  Remember they don't have the half of Great Britain mapped out since it's all hidden.  Er, was hidden." he continued, "What's really interesting about it though is here."  He pointed to an inset that gave a larger detail of a particular area on the map.

"Glastonbury," Hermione read.  "That's the famous cathedral where King Arthur is supposed to be buried.

"He isn't buried there," Ron added.

"Of course not, he's a myth," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No," Ron said, his tone a bit patronizing.  "Not because he's a myth.  It's because he's here."  He pointed to an area just next the Glastonbury Tor.  It read Avalon.

"Hermione, it's not a myth.  Look, you yourself said that this Joseph was a Muggle prophet, right?  He's was also supposedly a friend of Arthur's.  I can see it all when I concentrate."  Ron was getting more and more excited and Hermione decided to make a conscious effort not to interrupt him again.  She'd hold off her thoughts until he was through.

"But that isn't the important part right now.  What's important is that I can probably tell you the exact location of the Isle of Avalon."

But Hermione couldn't help herself.  This was too big.  "Are you serious?  Do you know what this could mean?  Ron, there are supposedly ancient secrets that left the wizarding world when those wizards disappeared!  They were known for their healing powers.  The implications on our world could be tremendous!  If it's true, that is." This time she stopped herself before she went any further.  However, her thoughts wouldn't stop.  Could they really work out where Avalon is?  Little had been written down before the coming of the church, and if there was someone there – even if all they had to go on was what had been passed down orally – it could still be preserved!  Her eyes finally focused back on the present and Ron.

"Sorry," she said, with what she knew was a guilty grin.  He was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.  She knew that he could tell that even though she was no longer talking, she was still talking.

"Are you sure you're done?" Ron asked, smiling.  Hermione looked from him to the book and noticed that he had turned the page.

"This is the other thing that I can't get away from," he continued.

Hermione pulled the book toward her and studied the picture drawn on the page.  It was of a, well she couldn't really tell.  But whatever it was, it was beautiful.  From the drawings it looked to be woven out metal – mostly gold – and encrusted with jewels that made out the form of a red dragon.

"It's King Arthur's Scabbard," said Ron.  "And according to legend, the person that carried it wouldn't shed any blood as long as he had this with him.  It didn't matter how badly wounded they were."  He bent his head close to Hermione's and looked closely at the picture.  "Supposedly it was made by the Lady of the Lake.  Some wicked protection spells must have been put on it if for a person not to shed any blood."

"But in the legends, Arthur dies," Hermione said, looking up from the book. 

"And guess what he didn't have with him that day?  But look," he continued, drawing her back to the book, "this is the last thing I want to show you."  He pointed to a phrase that was written under the drawing.

And the Guardians will receive the light and bear the one.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked. 

"I'm not sure.  It's a translation anyway.  The whole book is written in some ancient language and I had to do the Converterious spell.  But it's more what I see in it."  Ron gingerly touched the writing in the book.

"What do you see, Ron?"  She studied his face.  His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed.  He didn't look like he was in pain, but he also didn't look as if he was enjoying the experience.

"Well, there's a lot of knights, and battles," started, not opening his eyes, "and just a lot of other probably old, random residuals. But -" he paused for a moment and Hermione watched as the anxiety crept into his already tense face.  She waited for what he was going to tell her next.  Whatever it was, she was sure it was something big.

Ron opened his eyes and spoke.  "Well, there's you, and me, and Ginny, and-"

"Harry," she finished for him.

"Yeah, Harry."  And with that, Ron pushed the book away from him.  "And whatever it is we have to do, well, it's important and we have to do it.  We all have to do it." 

"How do you know?" she asked.  Ron's whole Inner Eye business was still so new and she wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Well, only really important things jump out at me."  She gave him a look that must have conveyed her confusion because he started again.  "Think of it this way - using your Inner Eye is like doing research.  You have to weed through all the rubbish to find the really important stuff.  But it differs in one big way."

"What's that?" 

"Well, most books don't come and find you." She opened her mouth to contradict him but he beat her to it.  "I said most.  Anyway, whatever it is, we all need to do it."  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.  "And in order to do it-"

"We need to find Harry," she finished.  Ron gave her a look that said it all.  They had no idea where Harry was and didn't even know where to start looking. 

"Can't you, oh, I don't know, grab some of his things and try and see if they tell you where he is?"  Hermione said motioning toward Harry's room.

"Don't you think I've already tried that?"  Ron said, continuing to rub his temples.  "Nothing in there is calling out to me.  And besides, if Potter's knickers wanted to talk, I'm not sure I'd be up for it."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little and Ron opened his eyes and sat up, obviously full of himself for getting her to crack.  Seeing this, Hermione immediately became very serious again.  She stood up and grabbed the book in one hand and Ron's hand in the other, pulling him up off the chair. "Come on."

"What?" he asked.  She stuffed the book into her bag and was putting on her cloak.  "No, come on Hermione. I'm tired.  I just want to rest." But he was already putting on his cloak and with a sigh he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To talk to Ginny."

"Why?"

"Because she knows more about where Harry is than she's saying."

"How do you know."

Hermione looked at Ron, tapped her forefinger to her forehead between her eyes and Disapparated.

~*~

The  Pensieve sat on the table.  Touching his wand to his temple, he pulled out a long silvery strand from his own head which he added to the wisps that circled the inside of the basin.  Then, leaning forward until his nose touched the contents, he allowed himself be pulled in.

She was leaning back on her elbows in the garden under the large willow tree with her legs outstretched.  She wasn't looking at anything in particular and by her expression it seemed that she was just enjoying sitting outside.  But he only had a few seconds to look at her like this because at almost the same instant that he had arrived, she sat up and turned her head.

"Harry?"

She said it softly, almost in a whisper.  He turned to see himself standing there looking dumbfounded.

"I know you're there."

But he didn't answer.  The words – if there even were any - were stuck in his throat.

She didn't speak again for some time, but when she finally did her voice was no longer soft and gentle.  As a matter of fact, it seemed to take on a very distinct tone.  One he hadn't heard since his second year when Ron had received a howler…

"Harry Potter, I've waited.  I've been patient.  I've given you time.  But if you think I or anyone else is going to wait any longer, think again.  I'm quite certain I know where you spend a great deal of your time and if you don't come back on your own, I'll send someone for you."  She was standing now with her arms crossed.  Looking directly at him.  And he was pretty certain she was looking at both of him this time.

"Stop being ridiculous and come home."

And just like the first time he left without saying a word.

Staring into the bowl, he watched as her red hair vanished into the swirling mists.  Tucking his wand back into his robes, he lifted the Pensieve into his satchel.  Harry put the satchel over his arm, looked around at had what once had probably been a home, and decided that it was probably time to actually go back to the only home he ever really knew.