A whisper, like leaves caught in a night wind grew louder as they walked and a gentle forest scent wrapped around Harry's senses. Finally, Merlin stopped before a pair of carved doors that would have towered over Hagrid and made Harry feel very small indeed. He looked quizzically at Merlin. Only magic could open the massive doors, but the ancient wizard hadn't drawn his wand.
"Is this . . ."
"No," Merlin told him gently. "My grotto workshop is deep in the bowels of the castle. Beyond these doors is the very heart of CaerMyrddin." He reached out a bare hand and the doors obediently swung open, revealing the room beyond. Harry felt his eyes widen and his jaw loosen at the sight before him.
"What . . ."
"We simply call it 'the Tree'." Merlin folded his hands into his robe's sleeves and entered the room, obviously trusting the younger wizard to follow him.
Harry remained rooted to the spot for a very long time and decided that there was nothing simple about 'the Tree'. It was gigantic. Its graceful branches shadowed an area that would take several minutes just to walk midway through and Harry thought that even a dragon could walk beneath it without brushing its head against the lowest branches.
A small pools of clear water stood scattered about its base, some standing alone in stone basins, and some forming cascades amidst the roots themselves.
Merlin halted and turned back to him, an amused smile crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. "Harry," he called gently causing Harry to shake himself out of his amazed stupor and hurry to catch up. The 'floor' was thick, springy moss with tiny white flowers that lent their delicate scent to the atmosphere of profound peace surrounding the Tree.
The closer they came to the gnarled trunk of the gargantuan Tree. Harry could literally feel his exhaustion and fears drain away, replaced by the feeling of pure magic that seemed to fill the air, amplified by the soft sigh of the wind and the whisper of the water. Voldemort and his Death Eaters, while still vividly present in his mind, seemed a distant threat, now. It was something like listening to phoenix song, Harry decided.
Merlin's chuckle broke Harry out of his reverie. "You will do, Harry Potter. You will do quite well, I think." Harry blinked in confusion as Merlin settled himself on the moss within touching distance of the Tree's massive trunk. "You can feel the soul of this place. You can already sense the Tree."
"Who couldn't?" Harry exclaimed, shocked at the idea that anyone couldn't feel it even as he found a comfortable hollow beside an unearthed root.
"Ones like your Muggle relatives would see only a very large tree, or nothing at all," Merlin told him. "Creatures steeped in dark magic would become violently ill. A vile thing like Voldemort," Merlin's eyes hardened. "Voldemort I truly think it would destroy. It does not like dark magic of any sort, and Voldemort is one of the more vile slaves of the dark arts that I or it has ever seen."
"A tree can kill?" Harry tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice, but had a feeling he was failing miserably. Trees, in his experience, didn't kill unless they fell on people or people fell out of them. He couldn't imagine a tree, even one as magical as the behemoth he was sitting beside, being able to take on any wizard.
"It is not, precisely, a tree, Harry. And certainly not just a tree," Merlin corrected, laying one hand on the rough bark of the tree. He seemed to be listening to something and slightly distracted as he continued. "It is an Immortal Ash and it was ancient long before I was born."
"And it doesn't like Voldemort?" Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around a tree hating a human.
"Nor do I, for that matter. I would gladly rip out his soul for what that creature has done. Especially to Rowan," Merlin stated grimly. "Morgaine and Ger have suffered as well, but Rowan's pain has been horrible beyond reason."
"She told me some of it," Harry said, reaching down to pull one of the small white flowers from the moss and examining its star-like petals. He twirled it in his fingers, thinking he should bring one back for Hermione and Ginny. "Voldemort killed a lot of people, didn't he?"
Merlin nodded, his eyes sad. "What you've seen these last few months is not what I saw when first she freed me. Remus tells me she is becoming something like her old self now. She is finally healing, in great thanks to your freeing of your godfather." Harry felt a rush of pride at the compliment. "If I was to sum up the girl I saw twelve years ago I would have to say haunted, broken and lost. A ruin of her former self all the more pitiful because her real personality had obviously been glorious. And she was not the worst casualty of that war. She lived and was able to salvage some of her former life from the wreckage left by Peter Pettigrew's cowardice and Voldemort's lust for power."
Harry felt a surge of white-hot hate and looked down to see the tiny flower he'd held in his fingers shredded mercilessly.
"I did not see his first reign of terror before he attempted to kill you, Harry. But during my life before I was sealed, I went to great lengths to protect my family. The Amulet of Achidnae and the creatures surrounding this castle, the wards, charms and other enchantments. Everything that could be done, I did in an effort to protect those children I had sired and would be targeted because of their association with me, my halfling blood, and Arthur's inevitable legacy. That is precisely why Voldemort later destroyed them: he feared the power they could conceivable bring against him in his twisted obsession to dominate. I take their deaths quite personally."
"Does Voldemort know?" Harry asked suddenly. "About you, I mean. Does he know you're still alive?"
Merlin stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That, Mr Potter, I cannot tell you. From what Morgaine has seen, and our spies have reported, he does not. In all likely-hood, Voldemort believes 'Merlin' to be dead or still sealed away. And, in all honesty," he continued, turning to look up through the leaves at the night sky above, "I prefer it that way. My reputation causes trouble for those around me. It is better that few know of my existence."
"Why? Between you and Dumbledore, you could stop him!"
"Albus is a formidable wizard," Merlin agreed, nodding. "And I dare say I am one as well, but there is no doomsday spell that can be cast to eradicate all evil from this world. Nor would we use it if there was one."
"Why not!" Harry cried. He could understand Merlin not wishing to be gawked at or fawned over everywhere he went. Harry himself wished this often enough, but this logic escaped him.
"Because the price we would have to pay for such a spell could very well be worse than Voldemort himself."
Worse than a dark wizard hell-bent on wiping out a good share of the population just for being of the wrong bloodline? Harry tried to understand, but couldn't manage to wrap his tired mind around the idea that anything could be worse than Voldemort controlling the world.
Merlin noticed Harry's confusion, apparently, because he explained further. "I lived during the time of Vortigern, Uther and other so-called kings and lords that would sacrifice anything and anyone to their mad lust for power. Even Arthur wasn't immune to that lust and I've seen the damage it can inflict. Lord Voldemort is really nothing more than a megalomaniac fiend that has managed to terrify people thoroughly. A millennia ago, spells were not divided so carefully as they are now into Light Arts and Dark Arts. It was the intent they were used in that mattered." He held up a hand, stalling Harry as he started to ask about the Unforgivables. "Yes, I have killed, Harry. Britain was a war-torn land and war truly is a shadow of Hell. You may have noticed that the Amulet of Achidnae uses a modification of the Imperius Curse. Which is one reason I have considered destroying it."
"But, it only works on creatures, right? So you're not forcing people into anything. Just things like dragons," Harry reasoned. He started, a sudden thought coming to him. "But you don't want to use it against Voldemort."
Merlin frowned. "Firstly, those creatures have a will of their own and I would not have it taken from them unless absolutely necessary. Secondly, it is not a weapon and was never intended as one." Harry blinked in surprise at this. He couldn't see another reason for the Amulet. "I created it to protect my family from the magical beasts that prowled the land fifteen hundred years ago. There were fewer people then and things like dragons, ghost lanterns, and the Wild Hunt roamed the land more freely than they do now. I and Rowan have some control over magical creatures, like you, Harry, do with serpents, but that doesn't always help our friends and I was away much of the time. Rather than return home to find it ravaged by a passing dragon, I created the Amulet of Achidnae, giving my wife and children some measure of protection and laid a blood curse on it to protect it from greedy men."
"Like Voldemort," Harry concluded.
"Among others," Merlin acknowledged.
~*~ Sirius was surprised to find that the castle hadn't changed a great deal since his last visit. He had changed so much during the intervening years that it seemed somehow wrong for this place that was so ingrained in his youthful memories to seem so frozen in time.
"I'll be back in just a moment," Rowan said, ruefully examining the water-stained and generally ratty look of her once pristine robes as he entered the room she'd led him to. He nodded and she disappeared through another door on the other side of the room. Sirius silently wondered what had happened, thinking back to the others that had been with Rowan and Harry. They all looked like they had been mauled by a large cat!
Setting that thought aside, Sirius turned his attention to the room and stared. He remembered it, of course. It was the sitting room of Rowan's chambers. Several doors, he remembered, led into other rooms of the small suite, including her workshop, garden and bedroom. However, there was a completely new element he'd never seen before. Very little of the room now looked European! Several Tatami mats sat on the floor surrounding a table that was surely too low for anyone taller than Professor Flitwick. Tall, delicately-carved screens sectioned off other parts of the room and part of the wall actually slid aside, opening onto the walled garden beyond. There were also several more normal-looking pieces of furniture set around the room, a large bookcase and a small hearth with a merrily burning fire in it warming everything that provided a an anchor. Otherwise, Sirius would have started looking for the Portkey that had spirited them away.
A pleased laugh drew Sirius's attention to Rowan as she reentered the room – her tattered white robes now replaced with a striking set in deepest crimson and bound around her waist with a wide sash of white silk – settled happily into a squashy armchair and leaned her chin against one hand to regard the room. "I sometimes wonder just how much that old dragon really sees or if he's just a meddling old coot with too much time on his hands."
Sirius stared at her for a moment then said, "You just called the wizard Merlin a 'meddling old coot'?"
"Well, he is," Rowan shrugged without concern. "And he's not just Merlin, Sirius, he's also my grandfather. He puts his glasses down and can't forget where he put them five minutes later, has an enormous fondness for Bavarian chocolate and baklava – and will not leave my stash alone – and was fascinated by the plumbing when I first released him. He's human, love, not some untouchable demigod. And he'll expect you to call him 'Grandfather'. Only Dumbledore calls him 'Merlin'."
"He's still Merlin, and calling him 'Grandfather' is going to take a bit of adjustment," Sirius pointed out.
"It didn't bother you sixteen years ago."
Sirius gave her a flat look. "Sixteen years ago I didn't have to look him in the eye. Knowing my fiancée was a descendent of Merlin and sharing tea in the evenings with the man that is enjoying his second millennia, can tell me what the latest gossip was in Camelot from personal experience, and is, very possibly, better well-known than Lord Voldemort are different things." Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "He's half demon, Rowan. He's not even close to human."
Rowan suddenly quieted and turned away from him, staring at the flames in the hearth. "Is that a bad thing?"
Sirius frowned at her abrupt change from mischievous to . . .haunted. He reached out one hand to brush her arm, trying to draw her attention away from whatever thoughts were bothering her and back to him.
She flinched away from his touch and stood, walking a few steps away to pick up a small dragon carved from jade. The sleeves of her robe slipped down and Sirius sucked in a hissed breath. A silvery mark in the shape of a tree, on the inside of her right wrist, stood out prominently. Too prominently.
"Rowan?" he asked quietly. "Why . . ."
"Is it a bad thing?" she asked again.
Sirius hesitated answering, not quite sure what she was getting at and disturbed that her Mark was all but glowing. Her Mark named her Merlin's Heir, but it normally stayed hidden; nothing more than a slight blemish on her skin. Finally, he settled on the least risky answer, and hoped for a better clue. "No?"
"Sirius . . ." she warned.
He spread his hands disarmingly. He wasn't trying to patronize her, but he was quickly getting confused. "Rowan, is what a bad thing? Your grandfather being a half demon?"
"Me being a half demon," she told him flatly.
Sirius blinked. Where had that come from?
"Just answer the question," she snapped moodily. Sirius winced. He hadn't meant to voice that comment, but she didn't normally play mind games with him. And certainly not after the harrowing night they'd both had.
"You haven't answered any of mine." Sirius sighed and willed his temper down. Not only would it not help matters, he knew better. "Rowan . . ."
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into!" she cut him off. "And you might not want . . ."
Sirius gave a short bark of laughter. "I asked you, Rowan Myfanwy, to marry me! Which I did once before over fifteen years ago! I think I've had enough time to think it through, love."
Without answering, Rowan put the figuring aside and negligently waved a hand through the air. "Nox." The fire, and every light in the room went out, extinguished by the spell.
In the darkness, Rowan spoke again. "Lacanem Inflamare," and a bluebell fire flickered to life over her hand and sat there, burning merrily only inches above bare skin, now the only light in the room. Sirius just stared and tried to resolve what he was seeing with years of training that said that it simply couldn't be done.
"Rowan," Sirius carefully moved his eyes from the flickering bit of fire to his fiancée's eyes, "Where is your wand?"
Rowan didn't answer for a long moment, choosing to toss the little flame she'd been holding into the fireplace and relight it. Then she watched him, and he could tell she was keeping her emotions firmly beneath an aristocratic mask as she awaited his reaction. "Now do you think you've thought this through, Sirius?"
Sirius took a deep breath and tamped down the shock that ran through his system before speaking. "I think you'd better tell me exactly what happened tonight, love."
Rowan sank back into the armchair and leaned forward to rub the bridge of her nose tiredly. "The short of it is that Harry Potter has the preservation sense of a bloody goat." Sirius stifled a smile. He was sure she wouldn't appreciate it. A slight, amused smile touched her lips. "I suppose that comes with the territory of being a Gryffindor. Harry used the Amulet to summon the sea serpent that lives in the lake. He was trying to stop Voldemort – who was waiting for us, by the way."
Sirius felt the blood drain from his face in a rush and began swearing. "That was about my reaction too," Rowan commented wryly, "Once I shook off Malfoy's Imperius Curse, that is." She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully and corrected herself. "On second thought, my reaction was quite a bit worse."
Sirius stopped swearing and looked at her. "So, let me understand this, you can do wandless magic, and Harry's going to die."
"I can do wandless magic, yes, but Harry is not going to die." Rowan allowed herself a small smile. "On the whole, not a bad night's work."
Sirius started, a tiny flicker of hope appearing before him. "Can the Amulet's curse be broken then?"
"No," Rowan spread her hands helplessly, "but it can be placated."
"Placated?" Sirius blinked. Then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Would you explain and quit hinting, Rowan? When did you learn all this? You always told us that the Curse couldn't be broken or stopped. Voldemort thinks that too, apparently, or he wouldn't be trying to capture you along with it. He'd just bind the thing to himself."
"I didn't know before!" she protested. "Grandfather knew all this and I've never asked before! He made the bloody thing, Sirius, he knows how it works better than I do! Yes, we can placate the curse by infusing Harry with a trace of demon blood. The curse won't see him as a threat any more and he'll be able to use the Amulet just like I can."
"Basically, you'll have to adopt him." Sirius shook his head. "Harry really stepped in it this time, Rowan. James was bad enough and he went looking for trouble."
"Oh, don't you act innocent, Padfoot!" Rowan put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You egged Prongs on!" she grinned. "And were right there in the thick of things to take his back when you prats found it."
"Moony and Wormtail helped!" Sirius mock-protested, matching her grin and reaching out to pull her down on top of him. "And you weren't much better."
"I didn't get caught," she laughed, shifting into a better position and resting her head comfortably on his chest. They stayed that way, quiet and pensive, for a long moment.
"I'll have to teach him how to properly use it, of course," Rowan noted. "It took me several years to master; though he seems to have a knack with wild things. Summoning a creature like Jormangund wasn't bad for a first try."
"What happened?" Sirius asked, reaching up to stroke her hair. "You said Voldemort was waiting for you."
"I . . . I don't remember," she admitted. "Lucius Malfoy put me under the Imperius Curse the moment I stepped outside the gatehouse on the far shore. When the fog lifted from my mind I saw Harry holding the Amulet and sprinting for the forest with Ginny and Hermione. Malfoy was dead or dying – I couldn't quite tell – and the other Death Eaters were running from the serpent.
"I heard a woman's voice above the shouting and noise call out the Cruciatus curse and the pain blanked out my mind for a long moment."
"The woman, what did she sound like?" Sirius asked, hoping his guess wasn't right.
"Sound like?"
"Her voice. Did she have an accent? They were masked, so I assume you didn't see her."
"She had white hair," Rowan answered, clearly wondering why he was asking. "She didn't say enough for me to hear her accent, but she had white hair, and couldn't have been more than ten years older than us."
"So, the Lestranges didn't go completely mad in Azkaban," Sirius sighed, letting his own memories surface. "I thought they had. They lasted longer than most, but . . ."
"Sirius? Padfoot, what are you talking about?"
"Azkaban," he answered. "My cell wasn't too far away from theirs and . . . well, there wasn't exactly a lot to do. They hated me, and I hated them, but at least they could carry on a conversation. It took a long time before they both lapsed into gibbering madness. Or, at least I thought they had. That's how I know she was the only woman in Voldemort's inner circle. She was proud of the fact."
"They knew you were innocent," Rowan gasped.
He snorted. "Of course they knew. That, and being able to turn into Padfoot, was the only thing keeping me sane. But if they know about Padfoot, they know about it from Wormtail. Death Eaters like the Lestranges saw being imprisoned for their Lord as an honor. And they wanted Wormtail's blood as much as I did."
"Why didn't they tell anyone?"
"Tell who, the Dementors? Or perhaps Minister Fudge during one of his inspections? What good would that have done? Even if we had and by some miracle they believed us, Fudge wouldn't have released me. Locking up innocent men in that hell wouldn't have been good for public opinion." Sirius shook himself slightly and steered the conversation away from memories he didn't want taking any firmer root in his mind. "Being hit with the Cruciatus Curse doesn't explain your new parlor trick, Rowan."
She tensed in his arms and took a steadying breath. Sirius wondered if she was fighting her own memories or if she was worried about his reaction. "Grandfather thinks it was a defense mechanism that allowed my demon blood to fully surface. I don't know what happened. All I know is that I was helpless and I wanted nothing more than to stop everything. The Death Eater torturing me finally released the curse long for me to get my bearings.
"I reached out and found a length of wood near my hand. I thought it was the wand of one of the Death Eaters and I brought it up to block the Full Body Bind she hurled at me. It worked and I knelt there for a long moment, shaking from the pain, but free and letting my mind clear."
"You used a wand that didn't belong to you, then?" Sirius asked. It was unusual, since she'd obviously made it work quite well, but hardly earth-shattering.
She shook her head. "No. I looked down and the stick I was clutching was just that: a stick. It didn't even really feel like a wand, but I hadn't noticed that before. I had just blocked a spell without using a wand. Then I felt something inside of me . . . shatter and I welcomed the power. If I had been in my right mind I wouldn't have embraced that darkness. Right then, I was angry enough I didn't care. I let my demon blood overcome my humanity." Sirius held her a bit closer. He could tell she felt sickened by her reaction and, coupled with her earlier reaction to his comment about half-demons, he assumed she'd lost at least a bit of her human blood. "Grandfather found all of us not long after and I assume Ger found you," Rowan finished. Sirius frowned and looked down and the woman tucked in his arms. She was hiding details, but suspected she'd tell him the rest after she'd come to terms with it herself.
"We were locked in a room several levels down." He made a mental note to ask her later about werewolves. Specifically if part demon ones could transform if sufficiently scared or angry. Right then, however, he wanted an answer to another question. One he'd asked twice before now. "Rowan?"
"Hm?" she answered absently. Sirius blinked down at her, startled. He'd heard that sound before. She'd done that before: the little noncommital hmm that told him she was listening, but a bit distracted. He'd been holding her, letting her fold herself into his arms because she was upset. This time, however, he wasn't concealing an engagement ring in his robe pocket.
~~Would you change your name if you could?~~
"Will you marry me?"
~~Sirius, love, I am a Myfanwy. I don't see any way to become something else. You can't alter a person's blood. Even by magic. Why? What were you considering?~~
Rowan leaned back as far as his arms would allow. "I'm not human."
~~"I was thinking of asking you to change your surname to 'Black'."~~
"You're you," he chuckled and leaned forward to brush his lips against her forehead. "Thank god."
