Disclaimer:
I do not pretend to own the Harry Potter world or any character within it: that right belongs to the eminent J. K. Rowling, to whom I most respectfully yield.
Neither do I pretend to be an expert on the early legends of King Arthur and the fabled Isle of Avalon. They belong to posterity and my imagination.
If, in writing, I offend someone, I apologize, but stand by my opinions.
I write this solely for my own amusement and for the appreciation of my audience. NO monetary gain whatsoever is intended.
I have no money, don't sue me, I'm not worth it, and there are bigger fish to fry.
Chapter Thirteen
"Knight to E-6" Ron called out, from his squashy chair in the living room.
He was facing Harry, who was seated on the sofa, pillowing Anna's head as she slept. It was New Years Eve, just past midnight, they were celebrating the New Year quietly so not to disturb her.
Anna had, fortunately, woken up, of her own free will, that morning. She was still inclined to be groggy and slept most of the day away, waking only to eat and chat a little before going back under morpheus's spell.
The good news was that the Unicorn blood, given to Mrs Weasley by two gaunt Druids, lat unused, as she'd woken with enough time to preclude that final, drastic, step. Anna was woozy, but alive, and alive was what counted.
Harry sat, pondering his next move on the chessboard; his two bishops and his queen side castle were trapped by an enthusiastic knight and several very violent pawns. Then, unexpectedly, one arm clad in a red Weasley Christmas jumper, snaked out and snared Harry's bishop. It squiggled, not anticipating being lifted off his feet.
"Check" Anna muttered, yawning, and shifting on Harry's legs. The bishop snarled at being unexpectedly usurped, but happy at his windfall.
"Hey, didn't know you were awake," Harry grinned, "Though, you do realise that I really was going to do that"
"Right," said Ron sarcastically, "I think that's illegal, helping him."
"Oh let it go, Ron, honestly, you win half the time anyhow" Hermione, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. She had Anna's legs propping up her book, and shared her lap with Crookshanks.
"How are you doing?" she asked Anna.
"Alive," Anna grunted, "Doesn't hurt, thank the Goddess. I'm good."
Harry curled a finger around one of Anna's curls, they were like a blanket, crisping around her shoulders and settling right around her waist. They were silky, very fine, and clouded around her head like a halo. Her eyebrows were the same fine silky hair, but thicker, almost connecting. From underneath them clear blue eyes focused on his own green ones, and he blushed, embarrassed to get caught staring.
She said nothing, tilting back her head, and closing her eyes again, exposing the thin line of fishes, inked magically onto her neck to protect her from overheating. They splashed and squirmed on their line. Like all things in the wizarding world, they moved independently of their owner's will.
"Oh good, you're awake," Mrs Granger burst, businesslike, into the living room where her only child was seated, reading.
She looked worriedly at Ron when Hermione wasn't paying attention. The relationship between him and Hermione had gotten much closer in the time between the beginning of term and Christmas and it showed.
Although both sets of parents seemingly took it in stride, there was still a certain amount of tension when the subject was raised. Or when someone walked in the room and they hastily parted out of a compromising position.
"Here's the next batch of the medication. Help her up Harry, there's a good man." She held out a goblet, full of an unappealing khaki coloured liquid.
Anna was still very weak, though lucky not to be dead, and needed every bit of help to attain a seated position. She took the goblet and smiled brilliantly at Mrs Granger, a trim, athletic woman who did not look the least bit like the mother of a sixteen-year-old daughter.
"Gahhgh" Anna gagged as the last bit went down, "Nasty stuff it is. If I didn't know better I'd say Rosie was trying to kill me, not heal me."
"Rosie?" asked Mrs Granger, unfamiliar with the wizarding world.
"Rosebriar, one of my…teachers." Anna replied, handing back the goblet. "This is her work, I could taste it."
"You take this that often, then?" asked Hermione.
"Unfortunately yes," said a melodious voice, from behind the sofa. Everyone but Anna jumped, not expecting anyone else to be in the house.
The Weasley's, all the grown ones anyway, were all meeting with Dumbledore and others to plan for Voldemort's next move. Even on the holiday they couldn't let down their guard.
Mr Granger had to return to his dental practice the next day, hence he left early in the morning to get there in good time. Fred, George, and Ginny had all gone to London to join an honorary party at Zonko's so it had been the four friends and Mrs Granger, alone in the house.
"Raven, stop that, really," Anna said admonishingly, "You know it scares them; they're not used to it. Or are you just trying to be mysterious?"
"Far be it for me to presume, Lady Morgan," Raven emphasised, reminding everyone that Anna was not yet a full priestess, and that she must mind her manners. For a woman of obvious age, Lady Raven seemed as untouched by time as her young apprentice, but for the slight salting of her coal black hair.
Anna leaned back, into Harry's shoulder; grunting a little at the effort it took her to stay upright. Raven walked around, and offered a hand to her apprentice, pulling her painfully to her feet.
"You're not recovering quickly enough," Raven muttered, absently, "It's usually only a day or so and you're back on your feet."
"They took considerably more than before," Anna said, through gritted teeth, walking out the pains, "and I held it for a longer period of time."
"Nevertheless," Raven said briskly, watching her, "It shouldn't take this long."
"Well maybe it's because you've been draining her dry every night for the last three months," Hermione glared, heedless of the danger of scolding a priestess of Avalon,
"No one else might notice, but I sleep in the same dormitory, she's never back until late and she sleeps like a dead woman afterwards. You can't keep doing this." She snapped her book shut, "You're going to kill her."
"You presume to lecture me on the making of a priestess?" Raven asked dryly, "And pray tell us from whom you've learnt your expertise, my child."
"I have the expertise to know that you're not going to have a Morgan much longer if you keep this up," Hermione continued, ignoring Raven's implied insult.
"Be that as it may," Anna acknowledged, wincing as blood flowed back into her legs, "As long as I am here, we needs have the advantage."
"That's barbaric," Mrs Granger interjected, looking shocked at her daughter's information "I may not be a witch, but I know the abuse of a child when I see it."
"Really?" Raven drawled, "What do you think I am some kind of monster? I raised Anna from the moment she came to Avalon, soothed her nightmares, and bandaged her split knees. Do you, a mother yourself, think I cannot care to see my child wasting away like this?"
Raven rounded on Mrs Granger, not shouting, but locking eyes, in a deadly serious tone, "There is more at stake here than the fate of one girl, however much we may love her. She's priestess born and trained, as am I, as is the Lady of the Lake. We know our duty, even if you never realise the effort it takes to keep this clot of mud from dissolving back into the ocean. We give our lives, if the Goddess demands it of us, and many have. So count your blessings, Muggle, that we will stand no matter if this world falls down around our ears."
"Raven" Anna chided, sounding more like a priestess than a 'child' "Remember yourself, and remember that I did not go into this unwillingly. I assume that the Mother has another need of me?"
"Aye," Raven said, gathering her dignity about her once again, "She wants ye back at Avalon, at least for a few days. If nothing else, it'll get the legs back under you."
"Very well," Anna replied, nonplussed, already standing straighter and more firmly, "but I'll not leave them undefended, the risk is too great."
"I'll stay, though a poor second," Raven offered, "nought will get through me."
"I thank you," Anna smiled, that same brilliant smile, "For everything."
"Go with the goddess, child, and have care." Raven pulled Anna into a close embrace, "I won't lose you now."
Anna nodded and disapperated out of sight, with a slight popping noise. Raven sat, lightly, on the sofa cushion Anna had vacated.
"I apologise, Madame Granger, it was unbecoming of me to take out my frustration in that manner." She sighed, deeply, "It has been a long and hard week, but that is no excuse."
"That's alright," Mrs Granger said solemnly, "I know what its like to have your daughter at the mercy of something you'll never understand."
Harry looked, more closely at the small woman who was seated next to him. Then he asked "What's really going on out there?"
"He wants you Potter," Raven said wearily, not needing to specify who 'he' might be "and he's expending a prodigious amount of strength to achieve that. If it wasn't for you being here for Midwinter, outside of your normal routine, he'd have you already."
"He must know that this is the only place Harry could go," Ron said quietly.
"Why hasn't he come here?" Hermione asked.
"Because the young woman you know as Anna, not as Morgan, is spending a ridiculous amount of her considerable strength keeping him away." she smoothed back her flyaway hair with an unconscious gesture, "At a hellish cost to herself."
"Can't you do something?" asked Mrs Granger.
"Nothing that we haven't already done," Raven replied, "It's a battle of sheer power at this point. Avalon will win, there can be no doubt of that, but he's resorting to methods even we hesitate to follow."
"What do you mean 'methods' ?" asked Harry, suddenly very frightened.
"Blood, sacrifice, torture, anything that will give him power. There is considerable power that comes from the spilling of blood, young Potter, and he has no scruple in exploiting it." She responded, absently plucking ginger cat hairs from her pristine white habit.
Raven looked him pointedly in the eye. "Even in Avalon, where we shun no path, however difficult, the Lady of the Lake will not ask a priestess to give the Final Gift. It is too much a burden to be borne unconsenting."
She raised her eyes to the ceiling, "Thank the Goddess that the last to…" she stopped, her voice thickening, "…the last to give the gift that can never be repaid was in the days of Lancelet and Galahad. It was the very Morgan for whom my Anna is named. The one of the old Pictish lineage, called 'the fey'."
"Morgan le Fey," Harmione whispered, awed, "King Arthur's sister."
"He who was crowned 'Arthur', whom you know as the High King of legend, we know by his given name, Gideon. But yes, they shared the same mother, Ygraine of Cornwall, who was Uther's Queen, and sister to the Lady of the Lake." Raven actually smiled, "You would like visiting Avalon, Miss Granger; the library of the Holy Isle is unparalleled."
"But first," Mrs Granger interrupted gently, "You need to get to bed, school's not that far off, and you need to rest."
"Will Anna be returning to Hogwarts?" asked Harry, anxiously.
"With any luck," Raven assured him, "If not, then, well…just pray, young Potter, that she has the wherewithal, its all that we can do at this point."