Hey Readers and Reviewers! (yes, you do deserve to be capitalized) Please,
don't kill me; I've just been swamped with school and other stuff. I'm glad
you liked that chapter, and I would like to say that Harry will be much
more important in the future, despite what has happened so far. Hermione's
new scar is not very visible because it's on her hairline, so she's not
going to take Harry's place or anything like that, just an odd little
coincidence. ; )
Useless Information: Well, there have been so many quotes, but I think this one is sufficient for this chapter. "Not all who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Disclaimer: Perhaps there will be a day when disclaimers are not needed. The calendar says today is not that day. Oh Well. Until then, all characters and settings are J.K. Rowling's and Marion Zimmer Bradley's, the measly plot that isn't even worthy to be stepped on my their feet is mine.
If Time is All We've Lost
Chapter 12 - Cobalt Motive
"And I carry it with me like my daddy did, But I'm living the dream, that he can't live."
- Jim Croche / "I Got a Name."
Hermione awoke, feeling very sore, but fine all the same. Lycoris tended to her for a couple days while she recovered and Tania even came over to give her a bouquet of wild flowers and told her about how Shardae and she had gone to the Tor.
"But it just wasn't the same without you, Her-mi-nee," Tania explained matter-of-factly, handing her the bunch of flowers.
"Well, thank you," Hermione said, a little flabbergasted, taking the flowers and smelling them. "Don't worry, I'll be up in a few days and then we can all go to the Tor together."
"Okay," Tania said, looking a little disappointed.
Shardae turned to Hermione. "I hope you feel better," Shardae said shortly.
"I feel better than yesterday," Hermione said truthfully, but a sudden pain in her head made her rub the place where the Faerie Queen had left the scar. "But it's my head that hurts right now."
"It's for the best, right?" Shardae said uncertainly, looking at the new scar, which seemed to be burning its imprint in her head. "I mean the Goddess does everything for a reason, so this can only be for her will."
"You're right," Hermione said, feeling a bit better. She hugged Shardae. "I'll be back soon, I promise." And Shardae and Tania left the house, Tania's figure bobbing enthusiastically as they walked through the threshold. The Merlin and Lady came in next.
"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry this had to happen while you are here-," Hermione began, but the Merlin cut her off.
"Do not say such things, Hermione," the Merlin said softly. "I am glad it has happened, but I must ask you some questions. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course it is," Hermione said, wondering what sort of question could be so terrible.
"What did the Faerie Queen say to you?" the Merlin fixated his light blue gaze on Hermione as he spoke. Hermione, on the other hand, was closing her eyes, straining to recover the memory, but wincing in a spasm of pain that shot across the place where the new scar lay.
"She told me that she had chosen me to mentor her daughter," Hermione said, still thinking hard. "She said I was a threat to You-Know-."
"Hermione," the Merlin said, still looking very kind and pensive. "I suggest that, if you are a threat to Lord Voldemort, that you do call him by his name. It will take some getting used to, but you will be better off in the long run."
"All right," Hermione said, a little shaken by the interruption. "Voldemort," oddly, it was hard for Hermione to start saying his name, "she says, is after me for that reason." Hermione stopped, pondering deeply once again.
Minerva tensed up, her fears again becoming more concrete each passing second. She rushed outside, but the Merlin didn't seem to notice. Hermione became more alarmed as Minerva left the house.
"She said that I was protected by the Faeries, and that I was well known there, just like Tania, a princess," Merlin continued to keep his interested gaze upon Hermione as she struggled. "Sheannon said the scar would protect me, and that's all I can recall."
"She was right," the Merlin's eyes slowly raised up and looked at the mark. "It looks like we've got two protected students at school; you and Harry are growing more alike, but we will have to conceal yours. Luckily for us, the placement of the scar is high on your forehead, no one will notice, and your bangs will also hide it." Merlin smiled a small smile. "That is only what we must expect from the Faeries; they work in mysterious ways, they do.
"I must tell you that you are the Gryffindor prefect." He smiled once again when he saw Hermione's face light up. "You are safe, Hermione, and you are well protected. Both the God and Goddess find favor with you; you work for their good and for the ultimate keeping of peace and they will not kill someone working for a cause so important to Them. I think I'll send Wendell in here to continue your lessons before we leave." Hermione's face lit up with that familiar glow and with that, the Merlin left the house. He approached the Lady, who was pacing silently nearby, in what the Merlin thought to be prayer.
"Minerva, please try to calm yourself," the Merlin said softly.
"Albus, it is my fault," Minerva said in a very distressed tone, yet it was almost a small cry. "If I had only accepted his mother,. but the Goddess gave me no inclination of any good coming from her."
"Minerva, listen to me," Albus said earnestly. "It is not your fault, the Goddess can only chose and his mother was not one of her chosen. The God and Goddess do everything for a reason, whether it is known to us or not, we must accept what they have said, and do our best to follow that through."
"Now, as soon as Hermione is well enough to walk, we must take her to her parents before she leaves for the Weasleys. She will have plenty to tell them, no doubt." The Merlin smiled, trying to raise the Lady's spirits.
"You are right, Albus, you are right," Minerva sighed, and they walked down the path, discussing the Midsummer Rites.
Helen and John had been very cooperative about Hermione, but perhaps it was because they lived so close, that Hermione could visit them at any time, unlike Lily and Narcissa. Hermione was one of the very few priestesses who still keep in contact with their parents, and on good terms with them.
Minerva helped Hermione to her parents' house the following morning because she was still a bit wobbly on her feet.
"Lady?" Hermione asked, trying desperately to keep her balance, which was becoming easier.
"Yes, dear," Minerva answered, but not really paying much attention, since she was lost in her own thoughts.
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said pensively. The Lady couldn't believe what she had heard. "I mean, about Voldemort's mother."
"How.How did you know," Minerva stuttered out, looking at Hermione incredulously.
"Wendell sang a song about it," Hermione admitted, and stared back consciously as the Lady looked defiantly at her, with a sense of defeat in her eyes. "And you haven't been yourself lately. Your eyes are usually filled with life and intrigue, but now they're dead, full of remorse. I can't stand to see you like this. Please don't blame yourself, I really need you now."
"What is it, child" Minerva said unbelievingly. It was extremely unlike Hermione to be acting this way. As far as she knew, there was nothing too burdensome in Hermione's life at the moment, but of course, she could be wrong. "What could be so painful?"
"You must remember that you are my faith," Hermione didn't meet the Lady's eyes, but instead focused on the ground. "Without you, Lady, I am nothing."
The last sentence fell heavily in Minerva's heart. There was really no other person that was a true model of Avalon and the Goddess in her life. If she slipped into what would be her death stupor, than all hope for a Renaissance would be demolished. They were both were helplessly lost in their melancholy thoughts the rest of the way to Hermione's house.
Eventually, Hermione and Minerva approached the Grangers' house. The Grangers embraced their daughter, and it was the eagle-eyed Helen who first caught the sight of the new scar on Hermione's forehead.
"My dear," Mrs. Granger said, almost frantic and Mr. Granger gaped as he too noticed the impression. "How did you get the curiously shaped scar on your forehead? Don't tell me you've already been initiated." It wouldn't have surprised either of the Grangers' to learn that their daughter had surpassed the usual age boundaries, they had grown accustomed to it. But even though Hermione was the perfect daughter, the perfect priestess, and the soon to be perfect prefect, she did hide quite a lot of pain and worry, which, as a priestess in training, she had learned to hide, even better than Lily had. She made sure that her eyes didn't give her emotions away.
There was Voldemort, whom had plagued her dreams and Sights for the past few days, and the secret of her priestess-hood that she kept from her two best friends and was only allowed to tell one of her peers. And there were other miscellaneous things hidden inside, problems and worries that no normal magical teenage girl had to deal with, as well as giving up all traces of a social life for her faith and her foretold destiny. She kept all this bottled inside, and put her focus on being the best at everything she tried, so that people wouldn't see her emotions, only her accomplishments.
"No, mum," Hermione said, smiling and running her hand over the scar. "It was a gift from the Faerie Queen." Minerva was glad that Hermione thought of her scar that way. Not many other people would perceive odd marks on their foreheads as such.
Helen and John fairly understood and continued to welcome their daughter home. Minerva left the happy home to go back to the Isle, her mind literally buzzing, and was notified the next day that Hermione had left with Mr. Weasley and Ginny in a ministry car.
It was a joyful reunion when Hermione finally arrived at the Burrow. There was a lot of hugging and shaking of hands, and Hermione, like Harry, wasn't too surprised when she learned what happened to Percy. Crookshanks again found himself at home in the burrow as well. They spent the remaining of the summer together, and it was on the last, rainy night, that Mr. Weasley kept his promise to Dumbledore.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley said as Harry climbed the stairs to go to bed.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" said Harry, turning slowly on the spot to gaze back down the stairs.
"I need to talk to you about something," Mr. Weasley muttered nervously. "Here, have a seat," Mr. Weasley pointed to the high-backed plum armchair, as he positioned himself across from Harry on the lumpy paisley sofa.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley started again, clearing his throat. "Professor Dumbledore and I thought it was time that you knew why You-Know-Who wanted to kill you."
Harry was overwhelmed by that sentence alone. Even though he had long expected the answer, it still seemed that he wasn't ready.
"You-Know-Who had a plan, and your mother was a part of it," Mr. Weasley had gotten up from his seat and started pacing in front of the slowly dying fire. "She was to be his wife, and to bear him the heir that was to be the ruler after him."
Harry felt very numb, like it couldn't be true, like it wasn't his very own mother. "But wouldn't Vol-, sorry, You-Know-Who, be after her, not me?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley tried to look very comforting, but his nervousness shined through his voice. "I, for one, do not question the way that You-Know-Who's mind works, nor do I think that I want to understand him completely, but still, You-Know-Who had nothing but hatred and abhorrence for Lily, but there was someone he disliked even more; James. If it hadn't been for your father, Lily would have already been He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Name's wife, because your father saved Lily from what You-Know-Who thought was an unbreakable plan. Then he learned to hate you, since you were a constant reminder of his lost heir. There was only one way to get proper revenge, to reclaim Lily for his own, and to destroy you and your father, but, again, both Lily and James won against him that night, even though they lost their lives, you lived on, and again you became that sickening constant model to You-Know-Who that he had failed, and the only way to make himself know that he is more powerful than you and your parents is to finally dispose of you, and their memory."
Harry just sat, mystified with what he had just learned. Why didn't anyone tell him that there was more behind Voldemort's motives than he knew? Mr. Weasley quickly noticed the glazed look in Harry's eyes.
"You are an emblem of failure to him, Harry, and he will not sleep soundly at night until he finally is victorious over you. With his return, you are under an even more precise form of surveillance and protected by a more powerful type of magic." Mr. Weasley saw Harry drop his head onto his chest. "Harry, this is to keep you safe."
"And whose life am I destroying by staying alive?" Harry burst out, finally voicing the painful emotion that had been building up inside him.
"Harry, please calm down," Harry saw Mr. Weasley's eyes shoot up towards the rest of the house, knowing that Mr. Weasley did not want to wake the rest of the house up this late. "You are protected by people who love you and are loyal to your parents, particularly those who knew them. They are by no means forced to do this; they want you to live the life that your parents never could."
Harry buried his face in his hands, his guilt rising onto his face. Mr. Weasley sighed to himself. "I believe that Dumbledore will be more of a help then I'll ever be in this situation, so I'll leave this to you. It's up to you whether you tell Ron or Hermione.Well, I'm going up to bed. Are you coming up, Harry?"
Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley's kind expression, and did his best to force a grin. "I think I'll stay here, you know, just to mull it all over." Harry's voice drifted off at the end of his sentence.
"Of course," Mr. Weasley said, sounding very concerned, and he didn't say anything else as he headed up the creaky, lopsided stairs.
Meanwhile, Hermione was tossing and turning unusually. She knew the Sight was coming, but it wasn't good right now, the night before the 5th year at Hogwarts started. She kept refusing it, and when it finally seemed to stop, something amazing happened.
"You cannot deny me, Hermione," a smooth, soft voice whispered into her ear, which caused her eyes to spring open in surprise. "I will simply not allow you to cascade past this delicate situation."
"My God," Hermione gasped in wonder, but she didn't move from her position. Was she truly talking to the Goddess? Or was it her mind?
"Hermione, your friend is in distress," there was a tone of urgency in the voice. "You must help him to understand, for only you can truly help."
"Who is this friend?" Hermione was suddenly awake, yelling into the darkness. "Where are they?"
"Calm down, dear child," the voice overpowered her helpless screams. "They are not far away, seek and you will find." The voice faded into the eerie sound of silence. It was then that she heard the unwavering echo of pacing footsteps downstairs. Not knowing who it was, Hermione slipped downstairs, not wanting to deny such a clear signal from the Goddess, but then again, no Goddess-fearing person in their right mind would deny that sign.
Harry was pacing uncontrollably, which is what he always seemed to do when he really wasn't that sure about something. But when he heard a noise that didn't seem to come from his own footsteps, and wasn't the constant purr that came from the sleeping Crookshanks, he turned anxiously on the spot. He really didn't want to discuss this new information with anyone, nor did he want to deal with anyone right at this moment.
"Who is it?" he called a little too loud than he had meant to, and then he remembered about the eight other people in the burrow who were trying desperately to sleep, and subsequently tried to lower his now hoarse voice in vain.
"Harry?" Hermione whispered, trying to focus properly on Harry's slender figure. "What's the matter? Why aren't you in bed?"
Harry was in no mood for this at all. "I should ask you the same thing, Miss Prefect!" Harry sounded extremely spiteful.
"Harry!" Hermione said, utterly shocked. She looked into his eyes; they looked hurt and betrayed. "I came down because I had the feeling that something was not right." She looked helplessly at him. "Why are you so mad?"
"Hermione, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself." He said, sitting once again on the paisley sofa and rubbing his temples with his fingers.
"Why?" Hermione asked, although she felt very stupid saying it, especially when Harry sighed heavily.
"I just learned why Voldemort is after me," He looked at Hermione, his eyes searching her face. Hermione raised her eyebrows in true surprise, for she thought that Dumbledore would have told Harry sooner. Lily's life was a legend on the Isles. "I'm mad at myself because there are so many lives that I've destroyed by staying alive."
"But Harry," she said reasonably. "Think of how many lives you've saved by being here, and all the lives you changed for the good. You've certainly changed mine; do you think I would be as brave as I am today if you weren't here?"
Finally, Harry cracked a smile, one that truly lit up his whole face. "You're right, Hermione," he stood up and hugged her. "I've got to get some sleep. Come on, Hermione!"
When they reached the forth flight of stairs, Hermione would turn to the left, while Harry's room was in the second door on the right. Just as Hermione was opening her door, she heard Harry faintly whispering to her.
"Sometimes, I think you know more about me than I know about myself," the grin reappeared, but this time it held a bit more boyish happiness.
"You never know," Hermione muttered under her breath, as she slipped into Ginny's pitch dark room.
It was a quite uneventful morning, but it was nonetheless hectic, as it usually was at the Weasley house. As soon as they had all piled their things into trunks, the six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all traveled to King's Cross by means of a portkey. The only problem was, Mr. Weasley, although trying to pick the safest spot to not be seen, picked a single stall in the station's women's water closets.
If truth be told, George narrowly missed being hurled into a toilet, while Crookshanks truly was thrown into it, the stall itself almost burst, and muggles stared in amazement as five men evidently preferred the woman's bathroom. All in all, it was an experience they would never forget.
As soon as they were all on platform 9-3/4, Mr. Weasley bid them farewell as the train pulled away from the station. Fred and George left to sit with their friends, which might have been a good thing, as the two were both too energetic for their own good.
Crookshanks once again found a comfortable corner in which to sleep, while even Pig seemed to calm down. Light, steady rain splattered the window. The old witch with the trolley came by, and when it had seemed hours since she had passed, the members of the compartment were growing weary of the trip, although the weather seemed to disagree. A storm had brewed, as it always seemed to do around the beginning of the year, and the lightning threatened to demolish their power sources. Hermione had had enough of it.
"I'm going to see what's going on," Hermione said, standing up. "We should be at the castle by now."
"You want me to come with you?" Ron said, standing up as well.
Hermione smiled to herself; Ron loved to be manly in her presence. "I'll be fine, Ron," she said sarcastically. "I'm only going a car over, I think I can take care of myself." She gave him a reassuring smile, with a bit of a sardonic twist.
Ron's ears went red, as his cheeks showed a pink tinge creeping upon them. "All right," he muttered, turning back around to sit down. Harry was bursting with laughter, and he gave Hermione a grin that showed slight reprove, but was jovial all the same.
She sidled her way out the compartment door and into the hall, where the lights were flickering, just as they were in the compartments. She made her way up to the conductor's seat to discover what was really going on.
Meanwhile, in a compartment not too far away, Draco was keen to complete his quest for Voldemort. Although his plans so far were primitive, and no where near what he expected of himself, seeing Granger walk alone into the conductor's seat, which was adjacent to his compartment, was a stroke of luck. If he kept his own identity concealed the whole time, then Ms. Granger need not know that she was giving away information that could lead to her own best friend's demise and, eventually, and hopefully, his death.
Draco was not in this alone though. Another of his friends, Adam Nott, was also a death-eater's son and was determined to be a better and more faithful death-eater than his father ever was, which was truly the goal for all death-eaters' sons.
"The door is sliding open again," said Adam, checking the hallway. "Are you sure you're going to be able to do that light thing?"
"Of course I am," Draco said pompously, straightening his robe sleeve for no apparent reason at all. "I'm telling you, I am the best priest that place has seen since Dumbledore himself started."
"You mean that old fool," laughed Adam, throwing back his dark brown hair and peeked outside again. "I can't believe you allow that muggle- loving idiot to have active part in your life."
"Yeah," Draco mumbled, suddenly becoming more interested in his cloak. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that Voldemort was his true role-model and that his position in life was to live his own life like his father's, but do it better, it didn't always work. He loved his mother too much, and he felt like becoming the Merlin was also his destiny. But how can one have two sure destinies that completely, in all ways possible, contradict each other?
Suddenly, Adam jerked back, leaving the door ajar. "She's coming!" he whispered urgently, his midnight blue eyes glinting maliciously. "Are you ready?" He looked, or rather, stared at Draco.
"Let's go," Draco said, and raised his hands to shoulder level, clenched his fists at his chest, and then swiftly pushed them apart. Then the whole train was thrown into complete darkness. Several screams echoed down the hall, but, to both Draco and Adam's surprise, none of the screams seemed to come from Hermione, who at that time was right outside the open door.
Feeling they were losing valuable time and allowing Hermione to recover from the distortion of being thrown in to utter disillusion, Draco stepped up and grabbed Hermione, making sure that one of his hands covered her mouth.
"Listen and do as I say or the price will be dear," Draco made sure that he spoke in a voice that was not his own, while Adam was shutting the door carefully. "You hold the secret of Harry Potter's downfall. Either you forfeit that information, or you will not leave this compartment with your life."
Hermione was crouched in shock and disarray, a stranger's hand stuffed in her mouth, and she felt the cold tip of a wand press against her neck, but she did not loose her intellect. Though she could not see her attackers, she knew that she could outsmart them. With one of her free hands, which the attacker carelessly forgot to secure, she forced the hand away. Working as quickly as possible, she whispered the only charm that could save her before a curse came from the figure's lips.
"Velaluz," As soon as the words had been said, a tiny tongue of fire hovered about an inch above the palm of her hand. Knowing what would happen if they were discovered, both Adam and Draco shrunk away from the brilliant glow, and apparated quickly before she could turn the train's lights back on. Genuinely spooked and a little uneasy, Hermione left the compartment, heading back to her friends', but not without running into the person she needed to talk to most at the moment.
Meanwhile, one other person on the train had a slight idea of what was going on, (we'll get to that later) but it wasn't Harry or Ron. Both were completely grateful when she reappeared safe and sound. All Hermione could do was roll her eyes, she knew that although they tried to act all big brother-ish, she knew that they had been petrified by the sudden collapse into darkness.
When the train slowed, Harry and Ron became Hermione's bodyguards, and, being Harry and Ron, shot Draco Malfoy an extremely infuriated look, which Malfoy returned with and equally malicious stare. Although Hermione knew that it was the most common assumption that Harry and Ron constantly made, she couldn't shake off the feeling that Malfoy did have some part in the events that Harry and Ron would never learn about, since she had saved herself by Avalon magic, a subject utterly forbidden while at Hogwarts, and since Harry and Ron knew that she hadn't taking her wand with her.
As Hermione walked along the cramped quarters, which was as congested as a nose with allergies, (what I feel like right now) she felt a warm hand press against her cold one. Knowing that it was not Harry or Ron, or even Ginny, who was close by, she turned to look around, and found her man; the Cheshire cat grin gave him away immediately. Galen Moon craved a word with her. (Shakespeare never gets old.;)
Galen seemed like the quiet type guy who had grown up in an ordinary family. But his life was just the exact opposite; his short life could not be anymore confusing and sad. Galen's life was directly related to Professor Trelawney, and why both Hermione and Minerva severely disliked Sybil Trelawney, and it wasn't because she was a kooky loon.
Galen's mother was Sybil's own daughter, Ramla, and she had extremely high expectations for her, and one of them was producing a child that would excel in Divination. Ramla deeply resented that her mother only saw her as a fertile servant, so she distance herself as far away from her as she could.
Eventually, Ramla found the man of her dreams, a muggle named Eshkol Moon, who was a wine connoisseur born in India, but raised in Italy. They were married a short time after they had met, and moved to a flat in Edinburgh. A few months later, Ramla found out she was pregnant, and vowed to never let her mother learn of her coming grandchild; if she was the prophetess she said she was, surely she would already know that her grandchild was on the way.
Ramla's birth didn't go according to anyone's plan, it seemed. Eshkol was away in Italy sampling the new season's wines when Ramla's water broke. So many complications arose during the birth, that it came to everyone's senses that the child was fine and healthy, but it would take the mother's life, inevitably, no matter if they were to kill the child or not.
Galen Faust Moon was born in the early hours of November 17th, 1987, and Ramla Moon died a few minutes after her son was born. Eshkol was on his way back to Edinburgh when he learned that his son was born, and that his beloved wife was dead. He caught the fastest subway he could at King's Cross Station to take him to the heart of Edinburgh, so that he could claim his new son.
Tragedy struck once more. Due to unknown circumstances, a blazing fire erupted in the subway car that Eshkol had just stepped into, killing him instantly. Little Galen was left with no parents, with only Sybil to take care of him.
When Galen grew up, Sybil constantly tested Galen to see if he had the divinational gift. When he was eight, and Sybil began to 'see' that Galen did not hold the talent that she so hoped her kin would have.
Minerva took pity on the child and raised him on Avalon, she taught him very little magic, not because he wasn't trustworthy, but because he knew that he had to find the place where his own heart was. He loved Delia, and usually helped her and Lycoris. Minerva made sure that he was happy, and enrolled him in Hogwarts when he was eleven, where he was sorted into the Ravenclaw house.
During this time, he and Hermione had built a tight, unusual bond, which was platonic, more of a brother/sister relationship than anything else. Galen was the only peer that knew that she was a priestess.
She stepped to the side to talk to Galen. "Are you okay?" he asked her, visibly worried. I saw the light coming from the compartment you were outside when the lights went off."
She looked at him intently. "Of course I'm fine," and she gave him a reassuring smile, although her head was swimming with the thought of who would have done that to her.
Author's Note: Not too much happening, but the next chapter will have a Quidditch game and perhaps why Galen seems to have such a traumatic childhood. Again I plead for your forgiveness, it's just that school is over working, but hopefully I'll release more during Christmas when I have TIME! Well, enjoy your holidays, whatever they may be, and please accept these gifts from me; Cherry Coke, Cheesecake, and a refreshing episode of Whose Line is it Anyway? Thank you so much for reviewing, I don't know what I would do without them. (Seriously)
Epequa
Useless Information: Well, there have been so many quotes, but I think this one is sufficient for this chapter. "Not all who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Disclaimer: Perhaps there will be a day when disclaimers are not needed. The calendar says today is not that day. Oh Well. Until then, all characters and settings are J.K. Rowling's and Marion Zimmer Bradley's, the measly plot that isn't even worthy to be stepped on my their feet is mine.
If Time is All We've Lost
Chapter 12 - Cobalt Motive
"And I carry it with me like my daddy did, But I'm living the dream, that he can't live."
- Jim Croche / "I Got a Name."
Hermione awoke, feeling very sore, but fine all the same. Lycoris tended to her for a couple days while she recovered and Tania even came over to give her a bouquet of wild flowers and told her about how Shardae and she had gone to the Tor.
"But it just wasn't the same without you, Her-mi-nee," Tania explained matter-of-factly, handing her the bunch of flowers.
"Well, thank you," Hermione said, a little flabbergasted, taking the flowers and smelling them. "Don't worry, I'll be up in a few days and then we can all go to the Tor together."
"Okay," Tania said, looking a little disappointed.
Shardae turned to Hermione. "I hope you feel better," Shardae said shortly.
"I feel better than yesterday," Hermione said truthfully, but a sudden pain in her head made her rub the place where the Faerie Queen had left the scar. "But it's my head that hurts right now."
"It's for the best, right?" Shardae said uncertainly, looking at the new scar, which seemed to be burning its imprint in her head. "I mean the Goddess does everything for a reason, so this can only be for her will."
"You're right," Hermione said, feeling a bit better. She hugged Shardae. "I'll be back soon, I promise." And Shardae and Tania left the house, Tania's figure bobbing enthusiastically as they walked through the threshold. The Merlin and Lady came in next.
"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry this had to happen while you are here-," Hermione began, but the Merlin cut her off.
"Do not say such things, Hermione," the Merlin said softly. "I am glad it has happened, but I must ask you some questions. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course it is," Hermione said, wondering what sort of question could be so terrible.
"What did the Faerie Queen say to you?" the Merlin fixated his light blue gaze on Hermione as he spoke. Hermione, on the other hand, was closing her eyes, straining to recover the memory, but wincing in a spasm of pain that shot across the place where the new scar lay.
"She told me that she had chosen me to mentor her daughter," Hermione said, still thinking hard. "She said I was a threat to You-Know-."
"Hermione," the Merlin said, still looking very kind and pensive. "I suggest that, if you are a threat to Lord Voldemort, that you do call him by his name. It will take some getting used to, but you will be better off in the long run."
"All right," Hermione said, a little shaken by the interruption. "Voldemort," oddly, it was hard for Hermione to start saying his name, "she says, is after me for that reason." Hermione stopped, pondering deeply once again.
Minerva tensed up, her fears again becoming more concrete each passing second. She rushed outside, but the Merlin didn't seem to notice. Hermione became more alarmed as Minerva left the house.
"She said that I was protected by the Faeries, and that I was well known there, just like Tania, a princess," Merlin continued to keep his interested gaze upon Hermione as she struggled. "Sheannon said the scar would protect me, and that's all I can recall."
"She was right," the Merlin's eyes slowly raised up and looked at the mark. "It looks like we've got two protected students at school; you and Harry are growing more alike, but we will have to conceal yours. Luckily for us, the placement of the scar is high on your forehead, no one will notice, and your bangs will also hide it." Merlin smiled a small smile. "That is only what we must expect from the Faeries; they work in mysterious ways, they do.
"I must tell you that you are the Gryffindor prefect." He smiled once again when he saw Hermione's face light up. "You are safe, Hermione, and you are well protected. Both the God and Goddess find favor with you; you work for their good and for the ultimate keeping of peace and they will not kill someone working for a cause so important to Them. I think I'll send Wendell in here to continue your lessons before we leave." Hermione's face lit up with that familiar glow and with that, the Merlin left the house. He approached the Lady, who was pacing silently nearby, in what the Merlin thought to be prayer.
"Minerva, please try to calm yourself," the Merlin said softly.
"Albus, it is my fault," Minerva said in a very distressed tone, yet it was almost a small cry. "If I had only accepted his mother,. but the Goddess gave me no inclination of any good coming from her."
"Minerva, listen to me," Albus said earnestly. "It is not your fault, the Goddess can only chose and his mother was not one of her chosen. The God and Goddess do everything for a reason, whether it is known to us or not, we must accept what they have said, and do our best to follow that through."
"Now, as soon as Hermione is well enough to walk, we must take her to her parents before she leaves for the Weasleys. She will have plenty to tell them, no doubt." The Merlin smiled, trying to raise the Lady's spirits.
"You are right, Albus, you are right," Minerva sighed, and they walked down the path, discussing the Midsummer Rites.
Helen and John had been very cooperative about Hermione, but perhaps it was because they lived so close, that Hermione could visit them at any time, unlike Lily and Narcissa. Hermione was one of the very few priestesses who still keep in contact with their parents, and on good terms with them.
Minerva helped Hermione to her parents' house the following morning because she was still a bit wobbly on her feet.
"Lady?" Hermione asked, trying desperately to keep her balance, which was becoming easier.
"Yes, dear," Minerva answered, but not really paying much attention, since she was lost in her own thoughts.
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said pensively. The Lady couldn't believe what she had heard. "I mean, about Voldemort's mother."
"How.How did you know," Minerva stuttered out, looking at Hermione incredulously.
"Wendell sang a song about it," Hermione admitted, and stared back consciously as the Lady looked defiantly at her, with a sense of defeat in her eyes. "And you haven't been yourself lately. Your eyes are usually filled with life and intrigue, but now they're dead, full of remorse. I can't stand to see you like this. Please don't blame yourself, I really need you now."
"What is it, child" Minerva said unbelievingly. It was extremely unlike Hermione to be acting this way. As far as she knew, there was nothing too burdensome in Hermione's life at the moment, but of course, she could be wrong. "What could be so painful?"
"You must remember that you are my faith," Hermione didn't meet the Lady's eyes, but instead focused on the ground. "Without you, Lady, I am nothing."
The last sentence fell heavily in Minerva's heart. There was really no other person that was a true model of Avalon and the Goddess in her life. If she slipped into what would be her death stupor, than all hope for a Renaissance would be demolished. They were both were helplessly lost in their melancholy thoughts the rest of the way to Hermione's house.
Eventually, Hermione and Minerva approached the Grangers' house. The Grangers embraced their daughter, and it was the eagle-eyed Helen who first caught the sight of the new scar on Hermione's forehead.
"My dear," Mrs. Granger said, almost frantic and Mr. Granger gaped as he too noticed the impression. "How did you get the curiously shaped scar on your forehead? Don't tell me you've already been initiated." It wouldn't have surprised either of the Grangers' to learn that their daughter had surpassed the usual age boundaries, they had grown accustomed to it. But even though Hermione was the perfect daughter, the perfect priestess, and the soon to be perfect prefect, she did hide quite a lot of pain and worry, which, as a priestess in training, she had learned to hide, even better than Lily had. She made sure that her eyes didn't give her emotions away.
There was Voldemort, whom had plagued her dreams and Sights for the past few days, and the secret of her priestess-hood that she kept from her two best friends and was only allowed to tell one of her peers. And there were other miscellaneous things hidden inside, problems and worries that no normal magical teenage girl had to deal with, as well as giving up all traces of a social life for her faith and her foretold destiny. She kept all this bottled inside, and put her focus on being the best at everything she tried, so that people wouldn't see her emotions, only her accomplishments.
"No, mum," Hermione said, smiling and running her hand over the scar. "It was a gift from the Faerie Queen." Minerva was glad that Hermione thought of her scar that way. Not many other people would perceive odd marks on their foreheads as such.
Helen and John fairly understood and continued to welcome their daughter home. Minerva left the happy home to go back to the Isle, her mind literally buzzing, and was notified the next day that Hermione had left with Mr. Weasley and Ginny in a ministry car.
It was a joyful reunion when Hermione finally arrived at the Burrow. There was a lot of hugging and shaking of hands, and Hermione, like Harry, wasn't too surprised when she learned what happened to Percy. Crookshanks again found himself at home in the burrow as well. They spent the remaining of the summer together, and it was on the last, rainy night, that Mr. Weasley kept his promise to Dumbledore.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley said as Harry climbed the stairs to go to bed.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" said Harry, turning slowly on the spot to gaze back down the stairs.
"I need to talk to you about something," Mr. Weasley muttered nervously. "Here, have a seat," Mr. Weasley pointed to the high-backed plum armchair, as he positioned himself across from Harry on the lumpy paisley sofa.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley started again, clearing his throat. "Professor Dumbledore and I thought it was time that you knew why You-Know-Who wanted to kill you."
Harry was overwhelmed by that sentence alone. Even though he had long expected the answer, it still seemed that he wasn't ready.
"You-Know-Who had a plan, and your mother was a part of it," Mr. Weasley had gotten up from his seat and started pacing in front of the slowly dying fire. "She was to be his wife, and to bear him the heir that was to be the ruler after him."
Harry felt very numb, like it couldn't be true, like it wasn't his very own mother. "But wouldn't Vol-, sorry, You-Know-Who, be after her, not me?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley tried to look very comforting, but his nervousness shined through his voice. "I, for one, do not question the way that You-Know-Who's mind works, nor do I think that I want to understand him completely, but still, You-Know-Who had nothing but hatred and abhorrence for Lily, but there was someone he disliked even more; James. If it hadn't been for your father, Lily would have already been He-Who-Must- Not-Be-Name's wife, because your father saved Lily from what You-Know-Who thought was an unbreakable plan. Then he learned to hate you, since you were a constant reminder of his lost heir. There was only one way to get proper revenge, to reclaim Lily for his own, and to destroy you and your father, but, again, both Lily and James won against him that night, even though they lost their lives, you lived on, and again you became that sickening constant model to You-Know-Who that he had failed, and the only way to make himself know that he is more powerful than you and your parents is to finally dispose of you, and their memory."
Harry just sat, mystified with what he had just learned. Why didn't anyone tell him that there was more behind Voldemort's motives than he knew? Mr. Weasley quickly noticed the glazed look in Harry's eyes.
"You are an emblem of failure to him, Harry, and he will not sleep soundly at night until he finally is victorious over you. With his return, you are under an even more precise form of surveillance and protected by a more powerful type of magic." Mr. Weasley saw Harry drop his head onto his chest. "Harry, this is to keep you safe."
"And whose life am I destroying by staying alive?" Harry burst out, finally voicing the painful emotion that had been building up inside him.
"Harry, please calm down," Harry saw Mr. Weasley's eyes shoot up towards the rest of the house, knowing that Mr. Weasley did not want to wake the rest of the house up this late. "You are protected by people who love you and are loyal to your parents, particularly those who knew them. They are by no means forced to do this; they want you to live the life that your parents never could."
Harry buried his face in his hands, his guilt rising onto his face. Mr. Weasley sighed to himself. "I believe that Dumbledore will be more of a help then I'll ever be in this situation, so I'll leave this to you. It's up to you whether you tell Ron or Hermione.Well, I'm going up to bed. Are you coming up, Harry?"
Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley's kind expression, and did his best to force a grin. "I think I'll stay here, you know, just to mull it all over." Harry's voice drifted off at the end of his sentence.
"Of course," Mr. Weasley said, sounding very concerned, and he didn't say anything else as he headed up the creaky, lopsided stairs.
Meanwhile, Hermione was tossing and turning unusually. She knew the Sight was coming, but it wasn't good right now, the night before the 5th year at Hogwarts started. She kept refusing it, and when it finally seemed to stop, something amazing happened.
"You cannot deny me, Hermione," a smooth, soft voice whispered into her ear, which caused her eyes to spring open in surprise. "I will simply not allow you to cascade past this delicate situation."
"My God," Hermione gasped in wonder, but she didn't move from her position. Was she truly talking to the Goddess? Or was it her mind?
"Hermione, your friend is in distress," there was a tone of urgency in the voice. "You must help him to understand, for only you can truly help."
"Who is this friend?" Hermione was suddenly awake, yelling into the darkness. "Where are they?"
"Calm down, dear child," the voice overpowered her helpless screams. "They are not far away, seek and you will find." The voice faded into the eerie sound of silence. It was then that she heard the unwavering echo of pacing footsteps downstairs. Not knowing who it was, Hermione slipped downstairs, not wanting to deny such a clear signal from the Goddess, but then again, no Goddess-fearing person in their right mind would deny that sign.
Harry was pacing uncontrollably, which is what he always seemed to do when he really wasn't that sure about something. But when he heard a noise that didn't seem to come from his own footsteps, and wasn't the constant purr that came from the sleeping Crookshanks, he turned anxiously on the spot. He really didn't want to discuss this new information with anyone, nor did he want to deal with anyone right at this moment.
"Who is it?" he called a little too loud than he had meant to, and then he remembered about the eight other people in the burrow who were trying desperately to sleep, and subsequently tried to lower his now hoarse voice in vain.
"Harry?" Hermione whispered, trying to focus properly on Harry's slender figure. "What's the matter? Why aren't you in bed?"
Harry was in no mood for this at all. "I should ask you the same thing, Miss Prefect!" Harry sounded extremely spiteful.
"Harry!" Hermione said, utterly shocked. She looked into his eyes; they looked hurt and betrayed. "I came down because I had the feeling that something was not right." She looked helplessly at him. "Why are you so mad?"
"Hermione, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself." He said, sitting once again on the paisley sofa and rubbing his temples with his fingers.
"Why?" Hermione asked, although she felt very stupid saying it, especially when Harry sighed heavily.
"I just learned why Voldemort is after me," He looked at Hermione, his eyes searching her face. Hermione raised her eyebrows in true surprise, for she thought that Dumbledore would have told Harry sooner. Lily's life was a legend on the Isles. "I'm mad at myself because there are so many lives that I've destroyed by staying alive."
"But Harry," she said reasonably. "Think of how many lives you've saved by being here, and all the lives you changed for the good. You've certainly changed mine; do you think I would be as brave as I am today if you weren't here?"
Finally, Harry cracked a smile, one that truly lit up his whole face. "You're right, Hermione," he stood up and hugged her. "I've got to get some sleep. Come on, Hermione!"
When they reached the forth flight of stairs, Hermione would turn to the left, while Harry's room was in the second door on the right. Just as Hermione was opening her door, she heard Harry faintly whispering to her.
"Sometimes, I think you know more about me than I know about myself," the grin reappeared, but this time it held a bit more boyish happiness.
"You never know," Hermione muttered under her breath, as she slipped into Ginny's pitch dark room.
It was a quite uneventful morning, but it was nonetheless hectic, as it usually was at the Weasley house. As soon as they had all piled their things into trunks, the six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all traveled to King's Cross by means of a portkey. The only problem was, Mr. Weasley, although trying to pick the safest spot to not be seen, picked a single stall in the station's women's water closets.
If truth be told, George narrowly missed being hurled into a toilet, while Crookshanks truly was thrown into it, the stall itself almost burst, and muggles stared in amazement as five men evidently preferred the woman's bathroom. All in all, it was an experience they would never forget.
As soon as they were all on platform 9-3/4, Mr. Weasley bid them farewell as the train pulled away from the station. Fred and George left to sit with their friends, which might have been a good thing, as the two were both too energetic for their own good.
Crookshanks once again found a comfortable corner in which to sleep, while even Pig seemed to calm down. Light, steady rain splattered the window. The old witch with the trolley came by, and when it had seemed hours since she had passed, the members of the compartment were growing weary of the trip, although the weather seemed to disagree. A storm had brewed, as it always seemed to do around the beginning of the year, and the lightning threatened to demolish their power sources. Hermione had had enough of it.
"I'm going to see what's going on," Hermione said, standing up. "We should be at the castle by now."
"You want me to come with you?" Ron said, standing up as well.
Hermione smiled to herself; Ron loved to be manly in her presence. "I'll be fine, Ron," she said sarcastically. "I'm only going a car over, I think I can take care of myself." She gave him a reassuring smile, with a bit of a sardonic twist.
Ron's ears went red, as his cheeks showed a pink tinge creeping upon them. "All right," he muttered, turning back around to sit down. Harry was bursting with laughter, and he gave Hermione a grin that showed slight reprove, but was jovial all the same.
She sidled her way out the compartment door and into the hall, where the lights were flickering, just as they were in the compartments. She made her way up to the conductor's seat to discover what was really going on.
Meanwhile, in a compartment not too far away, Draco was keen to complete his quest for Voldemort. Although his plans so far were primitive, and no where near what he expected of himself, seeing Granger walk alone into the conductor's seat, which was adjacent to his compartment, was a stroke of luck. If he kept his own identity concealed the whole time, then Ms. Granger need not know that she was giving away information that could lead to her own best friend's demise and, eventually, and hopefully, his death.
Draco was not in this alone though. Another of his friends, Adam Nott, was also a death-eater's son and was determined to be a better and more faithful death-eater than his father ever was, which was truly the goal for all death-eaters' sons.
"The door is sliding open again," said Adam, checking the hallway. "Are you sure you're going to be able to do that light thing?"
"Of course I am," Draco said pompously, straightening his robe sleeve for no apparent reason at all. "I'm telling you, I am the best priest that place has seen since Dumbledore himself started."
"You mean that old fool," laughed Adam, throwing back his dark brown hair and peeked outside again. "I can't believe you allow that muggle- loving idiot to have active part in your life."
"Yeah," Draco mumbled, suddenly becoming more interested in his cloak. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that Voldemort was his true role-model and that his position in life was to live his own life like his father's, but do it better, it didn't always work. He loved his mother too much, and he felt like becoming the Merlin was also his destiny. But how can one have two sure destinies that completely, in all ways possible, contradict each other?
Suddenly, Adam jerked back, leaving the door ajar. "She's coming!" he whispered urgently, his midnight blue eyes glinting maliciously. "Are you ready?" He looked, or rather, stared at Draco.
"Let's go," Draco said, and raised his hands to shoulder level, clenched his fists at his chest, and then swiftly pushed them apart. Then the whole train was thrown into complete darkness. Several screams echoed down the hall, but, to both Draco and Adam's surprise, none of the screams seemed to come from Hermione, who at that time was right outside the open door.
Feeling they were losing valuable time and allowing Hermione to recover from the distortion of being thrown in to utter disillusion, Draco stepped up and grabbed Hermione, making sure that one of his hands covered her mouth.
"Listen and do as I say or the price will be dear," Draco made sure that he spoke in a voice that was not his own, while Adam was shutting the door carefully. "You hold the secret of Harry Potter's downfall. Either you forfeit that information, or you will not leave this compartment with your life."
Hermione was crouched in shock and disarray, a stranger's hand stuffed in her mouth, and she felt the cold tip of a wand press against her neck, but she did not loose her intellect. Though she could not see her attackers, she knew that she could outsmart them. With one of her free hands, which the attacker carelessly forgot to secure, she forced the hand away. Working as quickly as possible, she whispered the only charm that could save her before a curse came from the figure's lips.
"Velaluz," As soon as the words had been said, a tiny tongue of fire hovered about an inch above the palm of her hand. Knowing what would happen if they were discovered, both Adam and Draco shrunk away from the brilliant glow, and apparated quickly before she could turn the train's lights back on. Genuinely spooked and a little uneasy, Hermione left the compartment, heading back to her friends', but not without running into the person she needed to talk to most at the moment.
Meanwhile, one other person on the train had a slight idea of what was going on, (we'll get to that later) but it wasn't Harry or Ron. Both were completely grateful when she reappeared safe and sound. All Hermione could do was roll her eyes, she knew that although they tried to act all big brother-ish, she knew that they had been petrified by the sudden collapse into darkness.
When the train slowed, Harry and Ron became Hermione's bodyguards, and, being Harry and Ron, shot Draco Malfoy an extremely infuriated look, which Malfoy returned with and equally malicious stare. Although Hermione knew that it was the most common assumption that Harry and Ron constantly made, she couldn't shake off the feeling that Malfoy did have some part in the events that Harry and Ron would never learn about, since she had saved herself by Avalon magic, a subject utterly forbidden while at Hogwarts, and since Harry and Ron knew that she hadn't taking her wand with her.
As Hermione walked along the cramped quarters, which was as congested as a nose with allergies, (what I feel like right now) she felt a warm hand press against her cold one. Knowing that it was not Harry or Ron, or even Ginny, who was close by, she turned to look around, and found her man; the Cheshire cat grin gave him away immediately. Galen Moon craved a word with her. (Shakespeare never gets old.;)
Galen seemed like the quiet type guy who had grown up in an ordinary family. But his life was just the exact opposite; his short life could not be anymore confusing and sad. Galen's life was directly related to Professor Trelawney, and why both Hermione and Minerva severely disliked Sybil Trelawney, and it wasn't because she was a kooky loon.
Galen's mother was Sybil's own daughter, Ramla, and she had extremely high expectations for her, and one of them was producing a child that would excel in Divination. Ramla deeply resented that her mother only saw her as a fertile servant, so she distance herself as far away from her as she could.
Eventually, Ramla found the man of her dreams, a muggle named Eshkol Moon, who was a wine connoisseur born in India, but raised in Italy. They were married a short time after they had met, and moved to a flat in Edinburgh. A few months later, Ramla found out she was pregnant, and vowed to never let her mother learn of her coming grandchild; if she was the prophetess she said she was, surely she would already know that her grandchild was on the way.
Ramla's birth didn't go according to anyone's plan, it seemed. Eshkol was away in Italy sampling the new season's wines when Ramla's water broke. So many complications arose during the birth, that it came to everyone's senses that the child was fine and healthy, but it would take the mother's life, inevitably, no matter if they were to kill the child or not.
Galen Faust Moon was born in the early hours of November 17th, 1987, and Ramla Moon died a few minutes after her son was born. Eshkol was on his way back to Edinburgh when he learned that his son was born, and that his beloved wife was dead. He caught the fastest subway he could at King's Cross Station to take him to the heart of Edinburgh, so that he could claim his new son.
Tragedy struck once more. Due to unknown circumstances, a blazing fire erupted in the subway car that Eshkol had just stepped into, killing him instantly. Little Galen was left with no parents, with only Sybil to take care of him.
When Galen grew up, Sybil constantly tested Galen to see if he had the divinational gift. When he was eight, and Sybil began to 'see' that Galen did not hold the talent that she so hoped her kin would have.
Minerva took pity on the child and raised him on Avalon, she taught him very little magic, not because he wasn't trustworthy, but because he knew that he had to find the place where his own heart was. He loved Delia, and usually helped her and Lycoris. Minerva made sure that he was happy, and enrolled him in Hogwarts when he was eleven, where he was sorted into the Ravenclaw house.
During this time, he and Hermione had built a tight, unusual bond, which was platonic, more of a brother/sister relationship than anything else. Galen was the only peer that knew that she was a priestess.
She stepped to the side to talk to Galen. "Are you okay?" he asked her, visibly worried. I saw the light coming from the compartment you were outside when the lights went off."
She looked at him intently. "Of course I'm fine," and she gave him a reassuring smile, although her head was swimming with the thought of who would have done that to her.
Author's Note: Not too much happening, but the next chapter will have a Quidditch game and perhaps why Galen seems to have such a traumatic childhood. Again I plead for your forgiveness, it's just that school is over working, but hopefully I'll release more during Christmas when I have TIME! Well, enjoy your holidays, whatever they may be, and please accept these gifts from me; Cherry Coke, Cheesecake, and a refreshing episode of Whose Line is it Anyway? Thank you so much for reviewing, I don't know what I would do without them. (Seriously)
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