Title: Yn Anfarwol
Chapter: A Grand Feast
Rating: Teen (PG-13)
Chapter Summary: Harry Potter's race against time to become immortal before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and the lot belong to J.K Rowling. The Sithen, Sidhe, and their customs belong to Ms. Hamilton, and Neo and all other original characters is mine.
(A/N) Sorry about the longer wait. I had a hard time trying to keep up with everything these past weeks and writing was one of the things I had to put on hold. My apologies to you all. Also, the titles are changing from Latin to English as one, it's a pain to translate to get them perfect, and two Harry's leaving the world of Latin-based spells.
A Grand Feast
Harry was still fretting over McGonagall's reaction as they walked from the room together. He was so deep in thought; he nearly walked straight into the guards in the corridor, which would certainly have been a mistake.
They stood like two knights on a chessboard. One was a solid black, like ebony given human form; the other was alabaster brought to life. Both had hair that fell to their ankles like curtains of silk. Their eyes were deep pools of darkness and light, and as Harry looked into them, he felt the strange sensation that he was falling. Each stared with the blank mask of a trained warrior, their hands touching the hilts of their weapons.
Professor McGonagall stared between them, her eyes darting from one to the other in quick motions, her lips pressed into a thin line and one of her hands still instinctively outreached to block Harry's passage, or to block their passage to Harry. It seems habits born of teaching him for seven years had not faded yet.
The ebony guard inclined his head and reached his hand up to press a fist against his chest in a salute. The marble one hesitated, and then did the same. Professor McGonagall responded only by lowering the hand held up before Harry.
"The Queen wishes you to join in the feast honouring the solstice."
Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry figured she couldn't really disagree with them, after all, they were in the Sidhe's world and had to play by rules he didn't understand.
The guards stepped to form a small space between them, the silent message for them to step into place. With a slight pause, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and Harry did the same, trusting in her judgment. They were escorted through the three-pronged hall into a hall that was double the size of the entrance. The stone was different too, black marble and, Harry shuddered, held a more sinister vibe, as if it was warning of the dark secrets beyond the large double doors at the end. Harry stepped closer to Professor McGonagall's side. Like with the door leading into the mound, Harry heard a faint noise, but instead of music, it was the low murmur of voices. The door was as elaborately carved, if not more so, then the entrance door. Roses and ravens entwined with strings of ivy on the dark wood. There were no knockers, and no hinges Harry could see.
Five yards from the door, were wild roses growing along the marble walls, branching out over the stone as an archway. Harry looked up to the roses on the ceiling and saw them quiver, like if they were alive and aware. At the door, the guards fell back in step and nodded for them to proceed on alone.
Professor McGonagall took the first steps forward again and with that movement the doors pushed back without a whisper of sound and opened onto a hushed throng room filled with Sidhe. A ripple ran through them, and a warm rush of magic rushed up to circle around Harry like a long-lost friend whispering an intimate hello. It coursed through his veins as he felt something respond to it, even his wand, hidden in his back pocket, gave off a pulse of magic. He shivered and took a glance to Professor McGonagall to see if it had affected her.
It had.
Professor McGonagall, as he knew her, was not standing there. Instead, a woman with all the grace of a predatory feline stood proudly, hair like a raven's wing piled up at her neck. Her skin, for lack of a better word, shimmered, and as she turned to face him, he saw that her irises had swirled into a triplet of grey circles. She gave him a small smile and murmured that she would explain once they had time. Harry made a mental note to hold her to that.
To a silent cue, she strode into the room and he followed in her wake, trying to keep his eyes focused straight ahead so he wouldn't get whiplash from looking at every corner of the room. Professor McGonagall stepped to the side and bowed low, dropping to a knee, and Harry no longer felt the need to stare everywhere. His eyes were locked on the dais, where the regal woman from the book sat in a throne and stared at him, her eyes even darker shadows then the picture. He sank to a knee as well, feeling a compelling urge to acknowledge this woman's power. She looked like Professor McGonagall now did, except primal, like she was the embodiment of darkness itself.
"You may rise Minerva, and young Harry." The woman's voice was sultry and smooth and rolled over his ears like a caress. They rose to their feet. She beckoned them to come closer, and they obeyed. The Queen stared at him for a heartbeat longer then what he was comfortable with and then nodded, a slow smile curling upon her lips. "You'll do. You'll do perfectly."
What? He wondered but was jarred from the thought when she waved a hand to a table to the right of the dais, gesturing for them to take the seats there. They did. As he settled into the chair, he leaned over to speak to Professor McGonagall. She was anticipating his question and started speaking before he could draw a breath.
"When I was younger, just before I took my post at Hogwarts, I had done several deeds better told with less people about," she said, "and for my reward the Queen granted me the boon of joining the Sidhe."
"So, you're not human anymore?"
She cocked her head and thought on her words before answering. "In a sense. I have all the abilities I had before, and the resistances as well. I am as much Sidhe as the UnSeelie will admit. The Seelie, on the other hand, well they're less progressive." Her lips quirked with wry amusement. "You, if the Queen deems you worthy, and I are in some ways more powerful then the Sidhe. Although we'll never receive a hand of power, or be able to call upon the shape shifting magic, we retain all ties to our own magical cores as well as our inability to be affected by iron."
"Why don't the Seelie acknowledge you?" Harry asked as another Sidhe entered and made his way towards the dais. This one was a soft butter-yellow and held a merry glint in his eyes.
"The Seelie are like the Malfoys, just without the dark taint. They want the Sidhe race to remain pure, untouched by the rest of Feydom, and as far from mortal blood as they can handle it. They prize themselves as the true Sidhe, even though their court is dying faster then this one."
"Dying?"
Professor McGonagall sighed and turned her look over the long tables. "Perhaps I'll share that tale another time, Mister Potter."
Harry nodded and looked to the door again, another ripple passing through the doorway. "What is that?"
Professor McGonagall watched the door and then smiled. "One of my deeds," she said. "It's a glamour spell, designed to reveal what every arrival hides. It would have sent a warm pulse through any wizard; it strips Sidhe of their glamour for the moment."
"Which is why you look the way you do now?"
"Exactly, Mister Potter. When I was younger, the court was washed with murder, assassinations, and back-alley attempts to seize power. With this, I gave the Queen the gift to have at least this throne room free of the tangles that come when politics and power mesh." She made to speak again, but the third opening of the door shushed her and she rose, along with almost the entirety of the hall, save for the Queen and a few Sidhe here and there. Harry stood as well and watched the spell ripple over the newcomer.
As the ripple faded, she stepped into view, her head held high and her steps assured. Wearing a long dress of jade, she swayed into the hall and captured its attention. Her hair was loose, and like the guard's, it fell in a scarlet wave to just above her ankles. As she neared, Harry noted that her eyes, though not like Professor McGonagall's smoky grey, or the Queen's shadowy black, were a silver sheen so bright it almost hurt to look into them. Like most of the Sidhe, her skin was a pale white.
"That would be Aithra," Professor McGonagall murmured, "the newest consort. And, as usual, she made an entrance."
That was the Aithra Novus had mentioned? Harry studied the woman as she stepped to the dais and dipped into a bow, shallower then anyone's before her. With a gesture from the Queen she went to take her seat at the smaller throne beside the Queen. Harry spied a silver circlet on her brow.
"She would be the one who suggested I bring you before the Queen tonight. I originally planned to have you meet Queen Andais under less activity."
"Do you know her?"
"She was one of my dorm mates for seven years, I gather I know her better then most here," Professor McGonagall quipped, her voice light with amusement.
"She went to Hogwarts?"
Professor McGonagall nodded as several Sidhe came in from side doors clad in heavy chain mail. They lined up before the dais and announced the first of several duels. "Aithra's a rarity of her race. Her father had been a Satyr visiting up from Greece who dallied with one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting; now he's a rather subdued noble. Aithra's the result of that union, and apparently, somewhere in her father's bloodline, is a witch. Now, in a bizarre twist of fate, Aithra gained some ability to call upon mortal magic, what you and I control Potter." Professor McGonagall paused as the duellists saluted the Queen and then each other. "She was sent to Hogwarts by her mother to see if she could up her daughter's place in the court. She went, made it through all seven years, then returned here. Her …quirk was kept secret and now, I see that her mother's plan worked. The Queen rarely takes consorts."
"Oh."
They fell silent and watched the mock-battle take place. The two sides clashed together with a roar, swords slashing wildly, shields slamming together. Harry watched, fascinated, as the field was whittled down to two knights, both with long swords, their shields tossed aside, ruined. They circled each other like wolves, their eyes locked, their hands deathly tight on their swords. At a silent urge they rushed at the other, their swords coming together with a loud ringing of metal. Side-steps, parries, thrusts, and a few body-hits, and soon one crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood seeping through the white of his tunic. Harry looked to Professor McGonagall for assurance that this was just for sport and saw her watching the duel with contempt, then he recalled her distaste for physical fighting and decided not to ask her after all.
After a minute, the fallen knight clambered to his feet and saluted his opponent and the Queen before limping off to a side.
"No matter how many I see, I will always prefer a wizard's duel over a sword-fight," Professor McGonagall stated as the next batch of knights walked to the center. They were never allowed to give a salute though, for the doors slammed open and a stronger pulse shuddered painfully through the crowd, the result leaving Harry feeling as if he'd just dived into a very hot bath.
A Sidhe ran in, his emerald hair matted with the dark stains of blood. He ran towards the dais, a parcel in his hands. His skin, where it was not covered with blood, was golden, opposite of what Harry thought the normal to be here. He flung himself into a kneeling position and slapped his hands onto the floor in a bow, his package skittering a few inches away.
"Queen Andais—"
The Queen rose and stepped down the several steps, her hands tucked behind her back and her posture wary. At the bottom she grabbed him by the neck and brought him to his feet.
"And what is a simpering Seelie doing here in the Court of Darkness?"
"The trods, King Taranis bade us to travel through the trods," he paused to allow her a chance to speak and when she didn't he hurried to finish telling his tale. "When we refused, he went into a rage, saying that the Dreaming was his to command, not some upstart exile."
At the word exile, the Queen dropped the man and turned to glance upward to where Aithra's unblinking gaze met hers. "Go on," she murmured.
"He sent three of us through. I, Lord Niall, and …" he reached for the package and offered it to her. Harry had the sudden impulse to look away as the paper was peeled from whatever was inside. He was glad he did when gasps of horror rang through the hall. "Prince Daibhidh."
At that the murmurs and whispers went silent. Dead silent. Noise left the throne room and it seemed that light followed for upon them Harry saw shadows encroaching, crawling over the walls, sliding on the ceiling. Even the air was thicker.
"The feast is concluded." The Queen's voice was ice, cold and firm. She had rewrapped the parcel and was striding to the doors. "Aithra, Lady McGonagall, young lord Harry, follow me."
Harry stood with Professor McGonagall and with a sideways glance to the Seelie messenger, followed the Queen of Air and Darkness into the depths of the Sithen.
Author's Note: Well, this was a longer process then I thought. I am sorry for the wait.
Thanks: Lady Urquentha: Don't worrry, Aithra's not Harry's next love interest, I can assure you :)
Crazy Young Fool: Oh shush. :) And I hope you liked Neo, I worked hard on her.
