Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Three: The Sovereign of Light
Author: KissThis
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Rating: R - if not now, then later. Just shut up and read it.
Pairing: I'm leaning a certain way...may change - who knows?
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
Summary: Hermione. Is. Dying. She doesn't know when, but it's a depressing inevitability. Can she summon the strength to tell her friends? And what of all the things she's never going to get to do? Can she get her life in order before it's over? You'll have to read, now won't you?
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Disclaimer: *throws a tantrum* I never get to own anything! It's not fair!
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A/N: Ok, I've seen other people doing this and it looked pretty cool. If you are the 34th reviewer, then I will dedicate the next chapter to you and if you suggest an object I will use it in the story. Any type of object or suggestion is welcome.
Woah! This chapter we are getting a serious plot line going! Yay me!
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WMWMWMWMW
Hermione dropped her keys onto the counter top with a clatter. Fumbling beneath one of her kitchen cabinets she flipped a switch and a pale fluorescent light flickered on, illuminating the small space around it. She reached over her head and pulled open one of the white wood cabinets.
It wasn't until a few moments later, when Hermione was popping some pills into her mouth and chasing them down with cold water, that she noticed the red light flashing on her answering machine. She lowered the glass and swiped her moistened lips with the back of her hand. Taking a moment to deliberate on the pros and cons of listening to the message she went over the possibilities in her head.
Con - It could be Harry...or Ron, or any one of her friends. They had to have noticed something wasn't right. Pro- It could be her aunt calling to check up on her. Con-
"Oh, screw it..." Hermione muttered and pressed the button.
"Hi, hunny - it's your Aunt Sarah."
Hermione grinned.
"I'm just calling to check up on you."
Her smile widened at her accurate prediction.
"It's only been a month since you've moved out, but I already miss you. The house seems so empty without you in it. I'd beg you to come back to stay, but I'm sure you finished unpacking ages ago."
Hermione glanced around sheepishly at her apartment. Half-filled boxes were littered everywhere. She looked back at the machine and reddened in embarrassment at the half-eaten box of pizza sitting beside it.
"Besides, you're going back to that Hogwarts school of yours tomorrow, aren't you? Well, I also wanted to tell you I love you. I know you've had a tough time since..."
There was a pause here, and Hermione could faintly hear the rustling of tissue as her aunt lost her composure.
"...since your parents died. And especially after the doctor's told you you had--"
A sickening explosion drowned out her aunt's words. Groaning in frustration, Hermione yanked open the microwave door and dumped the nuked t.v. dinner into the trash.
She set down the glass of water and was just starting to clean out the mash-potato-covered microwave when her machine beeped again.
"Hermione..."
She froze.
"It's Draco."
She dropped the rag. In a panicky way she leapt at the phone and tried to cut off the message before her could continue, but Draco was already going on.
"Dumbledore owled me this after informing me of the new prefects for this year."
She let out an audible sigh of relief. Something school-related. There was a tapping on her window and she opened it quickly. A tawny owl, she immediately recognized as being one of the school's, shot through it and landed easily beside her sink.
"I don't know if you've gotten an owl from him yet, but I wanted to congratulate you, all the same. The prefects are supposed to meet on the train. Some of the teachers will be there to talk with us. I'll see you tomorrow."
Hermione relieved the owl of its burden and it gave a small squawk before swooping back out the window. She tore the seal of wax imprinted with Hogwarts' emblem and opened the envelope, pulling out a letter decorated with Dumbledore's precise handwriting.
After hearing Draco's message Hermione only scanned the brief letter. She was going to be the Gryffindor prefect and Draco was to be Slytherin's. Padme and Hannah were the prefects for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively. When she was sure she had read everything of relevance Hermione set the letter down on the counter. Letting out a loud sigh she completely bypassed the rag and water and cleaned up the microwave using a simple cleaning spell. Once that task had been accomplished she set about packing her things for Hogwarts.
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A man stared down at a still pool of water at his feet. His robes were heavy and thick and the cowl of his cloak kept his face in complete shadow. He made no sound. He made no movement. But still his mere presence was oppressive. He smelled of death.
A whimper.
Another man was crouched in frightened reverence behind the robed figure. His pudgy cheeks were smudged with grime and greasy strands of dirty brown hair fell over his unclean face. Standing out against his dull brown robes was a dimly glowing silver hand that swirled and radiated with magic. He kept both of his hands wrapped about his knees, all the while glancing up at the motionless figure standing before him. He smelled of fear.
The shadowed figure took a step forward. Beneath the hood his eyes glowed the color of blood and the water below began to bubble. The cowering man whimpered in terror and shrunk away from the boiling pool of water.
"Silence Wormtail." The shadowed man hissed. His voice was grating, harsh and reptilian. Wormtail nodded violently and bit his lip to stay quiet as his master had ordered.
A scaled hand raised out of the expanse of robe and cloak. Instantly the water ceased its tumultuous actions and became calm once again. The blue pool flashed brilliant white and when it died down a picture was placed in the water.
A violent battle raged upon bloodstained hills before a stone fortress. Good versus Evil. The shadowed man watched as wave after wave of black robed witches and wizards crashed upon the "fighters of justice." Time and time again his warriors would beat back their enemies, but each time the forces of "good" would rally together and retaliate, pushing his followers back farther than they had been pushed.
He watched himself standing in the battlefield. A single flick of his wand and five more were dead. Dumbledore's perfect warriors fell at his feet and he crushed their bodies into the dust. All the death he caused had no effect on them. They surged forward and trampled down the front line of his army.
"Why do they continue to fight?" He hissed as he watched his perfect plans for taking over the world crumble before him. He couldn't let some snot-nosed kids still in school defeat the most powerful wizard of all time.
Water swirled upwards in a pillar beside the carnage-filled image. It flowed away revealing the water sprite of the pool at which he scryed. Only her waist on up was visible above the water -- she was made of the water that she guarded. Her bare body shifted and flowed like waves confusing the eyes that watched her. Her slender arms moved about her as if they had a mind of their own -- twisting and turning with hypnotic rhythm. The nymph's long and luxurious hair floated about her face as if under the water is was made of. A strand flowed past her face with empty, hollow eyes.
The shadowed man was unfazed. She had appeared to him before when he had used her pool for another such purpose.
"It is because of her." The nymph's words were slow and flowing like the element she commanded. She had a voice that was as alluring and hypnotic as the sultry motions of her arms and hands.
One of those such hands reached out and her long fingers grazed the water where the image of battle rested. The fighting rippled like the water around it and then things blurred and their vision was speeding backwards to the back line of Dumbledore's fighters. Their view crept up the gray stones of the fortress and when they broke the top of the castle they rested on a young woman.
"It is she that they fight for. The love for her is strong -- I can feel it." The nymph purred and stroked her own arms with grazing fingertips.
The shadowed man turned back to the young woman standing atop the battlements of the castle. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she stared out at the pain and suffering with angry defiance. Chestnut curls fluttered behind her as the wind blew it from her face, and amber eyes framed in ebony lashes gazed straight out across the battlefield. She wore a simple white, silk dress that seemed to be made of a single swatch of fabric. It flowed over her curves and her arms without a single knot or stitch.
"This girl is the reason they fight?"
The nymph shook her head slowly and cerulean tresses slid smoothly across her blank face, "Do not let simple appearances deceive you, my Lord Voldemort." She gestured at the woman again. "Such a pure heart housed in this beautiful body is what instills the love of millions and spurs them onward against unimaginable odds. It is she who is their pillar of strength."
She ran a hand across her chest. "Her purity and goodness..." She purred again in contentment and closed her hollow eyes, "It feels so warm--"
"That's enough, Postvorta."*
Her eyes snapped back open. Any other being would have recoiled in fear, but the nymphs of the water held no fear of the creatures that walked upon the land.
"So she is the reason that I will lose?" He hissed.
Postvorta narrowed her eyes at his clipped voice, "Yes." She replied in the same tone.
Red eyes narrowed, "You better not be lying to me, nymph."
An empty threat.
"You know as well as I that I am incapable of telling a lie." She reminded him. Her own hollow eyes flashed.
"That is why I have already set in motion her death."
Postvorta nodded her head, "Then I take my leave of you. But heed this ancient prophecy."
"I don't believe in the prophecies of babbling old Fates." Voldemort hissed.
The normally placid nymph snarled at his insolence showing just how much she wanted to be helping him, "The Fates had already begun to Be before you were even born, human. There hasn't been a single prophecy that has failed to Be." Her tone was icy, "Do not forget -- I only aid you because of my clan's debt to you. You hold no sway over the nymphs of the water. Your power and your magics do not frighten me."
She hissed at the man, baring pointed teeth that had before now been unseen and unknown. "Heed the prophecy the Fates have given me, human or this scrying pool will no longer be open to you..."
"The sands of time have begun to pour
And the final battle is drawing near
The ancient battle will be waged
Good and Dark; hope and fear
The Black will kill them all
So many minds It steals
Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies
'Till they no longer know what's real
But a tiny hope still burns
From love and strength and purity
The heart within the woman
Who leads them with true certainty
She loves them all with all her heart
She guides them to the light
She calms them and She soothes them
With words they know are right
He goads his fighters into rage
He drives them into pain
He mocks them and He does not care
That bodies fall like rain
He works them when they're weary
And He rebukes them when they fail
Cuts them to ribbons with his tongue
As they stand meek and pale
Kindness and compassion
Suffering and hate
Opposites like these--
Enemies by Fate.
The White will find them all
It will bring them to their knees
The light, the hope, the heart
It swallows all it sees
Amber eyes will burn him
They burn His evil core
The flames devour sins
The pain He can't ignore
The goddess and the devil
His body falls to red
The angel and the wizard
And the evil Lord is dead."
Her arms stopped their movement and she dove back into the pool, disrupting the water and dispelling the image on the surface. The ripples quickly ceased and the water became calm again.
"Insolent nymph."
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"As prefects you will be organizing the balls for Halloween, Christmas, New Year's, and Valentine's Day." McGonagall informed them.
Hermione grinned excitedly and glanced over to see Padme and Hannah wearing similar expressions of anticipation. Draco looked mildly interested as he poured himself a glass of water, which, when translated into normal facial expressions meant he was just as excited as the rest of them were.
Snape, who had taken up a scowling position in the corner of the abnormally large train compartment, stood up. Hermione watched as he crossed the room looking as though he really didn't want to be here. But ever since the students had insisted on joining the fight against Voldemort he had become less unresponsive and somber. It was only in the presence of his colleagues, the "Golden Trio", or Draco that he truly let his shields down.
Hermione studied him thoughtfully. He looked so...tired. The war against Voldemort had affected him more so than most of the people at the school. His cover as a spy had been blown when he had stepped in with Draco to kill Lucius and several other Death Eaters during one of their raids. She compulsively glanced down at his wrist. The thick, black robes that were his customary attire prevented her from seeing what she was looking for, but she knew without sight that the Dark Mark was still emblazoned on his forearm.
Her heart ached for him.
I bet it still hurts...
He was no longer the greasy Professor that made Potions the most dreaded class period throughout the entire school. He was just a man who had suffered more pain and seen more horrors that most couldn't even fathom.
"Being a school prefect isn't all fun and games," His voice was solemn. "--especially now. All the balls are to help provide the students with a distraction. In addition to organizing these events, the four of you and the Heads will be teaching the other students to fight and to defend themselves in battle. There's no telling when the final battle will begin."
"I know."
Hermione had only blinked in surprise and already Snape had his wand out and was moving into a position where he could better protect the prefects. McGonagall joined Snape's side and together the scanned the compartment for danger.
Dumbledore, predictably knowing something they did not, remained sitting in his seat and popped a Lemon Head into his mouth.
A giant jet of water burst out of the cup Draco was holding and he dropped it to the floor in surprise. The plume of water separated from the cup and circled around Draco's shoulders gradually taking the shape of a girl. Hermione watched as the water nymph easily pushed her way between her two teachers and flew straight at her. She pulled back in fear, but the girl came to a stop a few inches before the seat Hermione was sitting in.
"I am Postvorta -- the water nymph who guards the scrying pool to the north of this place."
Hermione bowed her head respectfully. The nymph was startled by the reverence the girl showed to her kind. Postvorta smiled.
"I'm Hermione Granger."
"I know."
Hermione looked at the nymph in surprise.
"It is you that I have come to speak with," Postvorta explained. "The fate of the world hinges on the purity you hold in your heart."
She placed a watery hand upon Hermione's breast; over her heart, but Hermione wasn't the least bit embarrassed or shocked at the touch. The nymph's desolate blue eyes bored into her amber ones as Hermione's chest began to tingle.
"You are the champion of this world."
The entire room was staring in rapt fascination and listening anxiously to the nymph's slow and precise flow of words. It was an odd picture. Hermione sat on her chair staring up in utter bewilderment at Postvorta with her hands clutching the sides of her seat. The nymph stood before the brunette with a hand upon the other girl's breast. Her body continued to shift and change its naked appearance, but her haunting eyes stayed locked on Hermione.
It was all Hermione could do to shake her head minutely in denial beneath the nymph's penetrating gaze.
"Harry Potter isn't strong enough to save this world. He was made to Be by the Fates so that time could be bought for you to grow stronger. All the events of the past are leading up to the moment when you harness your power and defeat Him."
"I don't have any power." Hermione insisted.
"It has been...hidden." Postvorta replied, "Until it is needed will it then reveal itself to you."
"I can't be a champion, no one--"
"In a mere matter of time, there will be no one that doesn't know your name. You will come to be called by many names: The Savior, The Messiah, The Sovereign of Light -- you will be the wielder of ultimate power."
"How do you know this?" Hermione whispered in disbelief.
"I am a nymph of prophecies...the Fates channel their powers through me so that I may help this mortal world." Postvorta removed her hand from Hermione's chest and immediately the pleasant tingling disappeared. Her robes were as dry as they'd ever been and there was no sign that a creature of water had touched her.
"Listen closely, Champion. No matter what you say or what you do there is nothing in this lifetime that you can do to dissuade Fate. The pureness of your heart shines like a beacon. The metaphysical creatures of the world can already feel it and they are flocking to your warmth and light. And when you reach your true power there is no one that will be able to hide from the love and hope inside you. Whether consciously or subconsciously there is not a single good being on this entire planet that does not love you."
Without giving her a chance to speak Postvorta went on, "It is because of this love that the forces of good will not stop until Voldemort is dead forever. It will fuel their passion, their desire, and their will. It won't be family or friends that they think of as they go into battle -- It will be you. You are the pillar of strength for the good beings in this world."
"There's one flaw in your belief. I'm d--" Hermione hesitated and looked around at the people staring fixedly at her. This wasn't how she wanted to tell everyone. It had to come out sooner or later. "I'm dying."
There was a sharp inhalation of breath around the room; even from Dumbledore. She felt Draco stiffen beside her. Seeking out his hand she grabbed a hold of it quickly and intertwined her fingers with his. She squeezed it to reassure herself that there was someone with her.
The nymph glanced at their joined hands before she shook her head and her silky tendrils of hair rippled behind her, "You cannot die -- you are the Sovereign of Light."
"I'm sorry, but--"
Hermione's protest was cut short by a water finger on her lips.
"I know of your sickness. Voldemort put it there."
"Voldemort? He did this to me?"
"Yes, he knows that you are the Sovereign of Light. He placed this disease upon your heart because if you die than Voldemort's plan of destruction will come to pass."
"How can it be stopped?" Draco asked evenly.
The nymph turned slowly to face him. Her head cocked to one side as she studied him. Finally she spoke, "His magics are too powerful and too complex. They have already woven a web of death around her heart. When her strength gives out it will wrap around her and her heart will cease to beat."
"There must be something we can do," Draco insisted. The teachers were looking at him in surprise while Padme and Hannah were still trying to sort through the nymph's words. "You said it yourself -- you said she couldn't die."
"Silence human," She hissed dangerously. "Do you not think that I would do anything that I could if it meant saving her?! Do you not think that I would lay my life down in an instant if that could keep her from death's grasp?!"
She turned her head to face him again, "You would do the same........I can see it in your eyes -- I can feel it in your heart." She said in a calmer voice.
"She is the only one who can save her now. The power of light that is inside her soul is the only thing strong enough to erase Voldemort's soiling touch upon her heart."
Postvorta turned back to Hermione who had been watching this exchange with mixed feelings. A creature she barely knew was willing to sacrifice her life for her. Draco...did his feelings for her go beyond friendship?
"I'm sorry that I have to drop this upon you and leave, but I must inform my clan of the plans being put into motion." Reaching into her chest Postvorta pulled out a silver jeweled necklace. Dangling on the end was small crystal teardrop filled with clear, blue waters.
"It is filled with a drop of water from the scrying pool that I guard. If you have need of me you need only to whisper my name to it and I will come."
Hermione nodded and fastened the necklace about her throat. "Travel safe, Postvorta."
"Safe journeys to you as well. Be careful Sovereign, the enemy has many spies...birds...beasts..."
Hermione nodded. Postvorta summoned herself together and hurled herself at Hermione's chest where she disappeared into the tiny crystalline holder of Hermione's necklace.
Hermione raised her amber gaze to find the room's occupants staring at her in a mix of shock, horror, and expectation.
"Oh dear."
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Wow! I was going to go in a totally different direction than this, but I just had this epiphany last night and it's gonna be frelling awesome!!!! Anyway...if you're confusedI'm sorry. I tried to make everything as clear as possible, but if you still don't get it hopefully it'll be cleared up in a future chapter.
REVIEW!!!
(I think it was just a great idea to make Hermione the hero for once...and I don't think anyone has thought of this plot line...not that I've read. And if they have - screw you 'cuz mine is gonna be better!!!)
*Postvorta -- she was a Camenae, one of the prophetic nymphs of Greek Mythology. She knew the future, while her sister Antevorta knew the past.
I think that clears everything up... and remember: If you are the 34th reviewer, then I will dedicate the next chapter to you and if you suggest an object I will use it in the story. Any type of object or suggestion is welcome.
KissThis