A/N Big thanks to Minerva Dumbledore1 for offering to Beta this chapter. She did a great job and any errors use still see where simply my interpretation of the way this narrator presents himself.
If you have a minute after reading this story and want a little chuckle check out my other story When Kneazles Attack http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1534554
It is incredibly short, nothing to do with this story, and literally won't take more than a minute to read and review.
More A/N with individual thanks and answers to people's questions about earlier chapters at the end of this chapter.
In the morning, before leaving his office and Hogwarts to apparate to the area around The Burrow, Dumbledore filled his Pensive with all the memories he believed to be relevant. That not all the memories were his own was, he believed a necessity if he wanted to make Harry fully understand why certain events had occurred and indeed were still occurring. Through the years, in his own attempts to better understand things that had come to pass, Albus Dumbledore had harvested the memories of a few others.
After making his way through the expanded wards around the Weasley home, Dumbledore quickly said his greetings to the others before requesting Harry to accompany him into the back garden. That Harry was willing to come at all, albeit was reluctantly, Dumbledore took as a good sign. Perhaps, at least Dumbledore hoped, having had a bit more time to think about what he had seen and heard, Harry had begun to realize that things are not always as clear cut as we would like them to be. And as Alastor Moody had so clearly stated twice in Harry's shared memory yesterday, Draco Malfoy's tongue was a dangerous thing and never to be fully trusted.
"Harry, I want to explain some things to you. I believe you left my office yesterday with some incorrect perceptions."
When Harry made no interruption and still would not meet his eyes, Dumbledore continued.
"I have entered into the Pensive a series of memories that I believe pertain to the question you asked last night. I did have occasion once in the past to use the Imperius curse on Professor McGonagall. But I think, after you have seen the events leading up to it, you will come to the conclusion that my intentions were not without honor."
Dumbledore gestured towards the Pensive, inviting Harry to enter. Harry paused for a moment, then met his gaze. Seeing only warmth and kindness, he nodded before entering.
Dumbledore wanting to give him the privacy needed to draw his own conclusions did not enter with Harry Potter. Instead he remained outside and merely observed. Truth be told, mused Albus Dumbledore, perhaps the true reason for not entering was because he himself wished to remember without the constant interruption of the questions he knew Harry would have asked had he been present.
And so standing outside, staring into the Pensive, Dumbledore too remembered the past events. Unlike the abbreviated memories Harry viewed, Dumbledore's version was fuller and contained some details he deemed too personal, for the sake of others, to have Harry view.
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Even Headmaster Dippet was surprised when Artemisia arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for dinner. A gifted Seer, Dippet was seldom surprised. But a Seer's Sight could often be distorted by the vision of one more powerful and even as a child Artemisia's Sight had always been without peer.
As the only survivor of the fire that had wiped out the Wizengamot Council and killed her mother, Mnemosyne, Armando Dippet had taken it upon himself to see to the girl's upbringing. Truth be told, given that Mnemosyne was the one who started the fire and sealed the chamber doors so that no one sitting in judgment of her could leave, it was not terribly surprising that no one else had been willing to claim the girl. It was only because of his animagus form, a salamander, that he had managed to survive. That he was never very gifted at Transfiguration and indeed had never attempted the animagus transformation before, nor since that day was knowledge that would not be entirely unexpected to those who knew him best.
Try as he had to bring peace and love or at least stability to the young girl's life upon acquiring her, Armando had always felt his influence was no match to that of the girl's late mother. The old adage 'the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world' does often hold true and being as she was of the House of Themis, no father had ever been present to temper the righteous anger and outrage of Mnemosyne.
Artemisia had remained with Dippet for eight long years. In that time, she walked the corridors and classrooms of Hogwarts unchallenged by faculty or student. Even the castle spirits did not molest her. Having once had the misfortune of walking through Artemisia, the Bloody Baron claimed to have received a chill from her. Upon reaching legal age and leaving, she had foretold only seeing Dippet again shortly before one of their deaths.
Being as she was thirty and he was beginning to seriously contemplate the possibility of a third century, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Armando Dippet greeted Artemisia when she suddenly appeared in his office. His Deputy Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Shackleton, was perhaps more startled. Looking into Artemisia's cold gray eyes, he dropped the stack of parchments in his hand and forgetting he was a wizard, kneeled to pick them up.
Armando was certain the evening of surprises had only just begun when the Minister of Magic arrived under the mistaken impression that Dippet had invited him for dinner.
Shortly after, when they sat down to dinner in the Great Hall, even with the added presence of Artemisia, Minister Asgard, and the young auror currently serving as his bodyguard, Alastor Moody, the faculty table looked deserted. Artemisia's reputation preceded her and only three professors choose to dine that evening. Transfiguration Master Albus Dumbledore, Care of Magical Creatures Master Sigurd and the Astronomy Mistress Brynhild were the only ones either brave enough or foolish enough to attend.
When all were seated, it was Minister Asgard who broke the silence.
"Dippet, if you didn't invite me here for dinner, would someone kindly explain what I am doing here?"
"I assure you Minister, it was not I who summoned you." Dippet replied calmly. Eyeing Artemisia, he tried without success to gage what her intentions were.
"Moody, you are the one that brought me here. Why did you tell me we were to have dinner with the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
The handsome young auror blushed furiously and shot a look at Artemisia, as if expecting her to respond for him. Artemisia for her part kept looking at the door expectantly. Giving up hope of her intervention, Moody stammered out a reply.
"Well, you see sir…It..It wasn't on your schedule, but Unspeakable Themis…Sir, she stopped by your office this afternoon to remind me. She said you were to have dinner at Hogwarts this evening with Headmaster Dippet."
Asgard only looked at Artemisia with great reluctance.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Artemisia fixed the Minister with a smile that never reached her eyes.
"I have been having a great many visions of Hogwarts recently. One of today's included all of us being here together at dinner. As you can see, my visions always come true."
Professor Brynhild, having never met Artemisia before, didn't know it was best not to respond.
"I really do not think someone showing up to dinner after you invite them counts as a successful prediction."
The expression of pure wrath Artemisia directed at the other woman was enough to make Dippet stand in anticipation.
The appearance of a house elf diverted her attentions, however. The house elf on standing orders from Dippet, began removing all the unnecessary place settings and chairs. Dippet found nothing as disturbing as empty settings at a table. The Seer in him always found the sight to be a harbinger of death and ill tidings. Truth be told, tonight the house elves need not have bothered. Artemisia herself was a more accurate omen of unpleasant things to come than even the Grim. Like a Dementor, happiness and any pleasant feelings could not abide in her presence.
"Leave one setting." Artemisia commanded. As an after thought she added, " And two chairs."
"Who else is coming?" Asked a disturbed Asgard .
Artemisia's lips curled into the closest approximation of a smile she could manage.
"Grindelwald."
Dippet noticed the shudder go through the Minister of Magic. It was well known, that Asgard was not fond of either of the Unspeakables who spent their days in the Department of Mysteries filling little glass orbs with predictions of the future. But then really was anyone fond of either of them?
Artemisia was cold and cruel. She made a point out of inflicting as much punishment as she could on anyone she came into contact with, and this habit extended to her predictions. Though never inaccurate, she had a disturbing way in which she phrased her predictions. If ever there was a way to take the happiest or most benign future and dement it, she found it. If it were an honest mistake it would be one thing, but Artemisia viewed the future clearly. She willingly chose to misrepresent things.
Grindelwald on the other hand was just disagreeable and barely competent. Oh, he did have the Sight certainly, but he was nearsighted enough that he might just as well have been blind. While Artemisia mangled prophecies to suit her own purposes, Grindelwald just mangled them. This lacking on Grindelwald's part, much like any weakness she found in others, was something Artemisia took great delight in pointing out at any opportunity.
"You invited him as well?"
"Not in so many words, but I did leave notice I would be here. And he will come."
"Why two chairs?" Asgard persisted.
"Because the first will soon be uninhabitable."
Not even Dippet could decipher what that meant. He gave up trying when shortly after the doors to the Great Hall flew open and in came the man in question. Grindelwald's robes billowed menacingly, which matched well with the expression of absolute fury that contorted his features.
As he approached the Head table, Artemisia rose to greet him. "What an unexpected surprise, Grindelwald."
In response, Grindelwald threw an orb past Artemisia where it shattered against the wall. The content of the prophecy within it was drowned out by the seething roar of the man who threw it.
"How dare you! How dare you alter one of my prophecies!"
Artemisia shrugged, enjoying the response she had elicited. "I merely corrected it for you. You should be grateful. It's not my fault your Vision is clouded."
Attempting to diffuse the situation, Dippet gestured to the unclaimed place setting. "As you are here anyway, join us for dinner, Grindelwald."
For a moment, it appeared that Grindelwald was planning to continue the conversation with Artemisia. But really, what could the man say in response to the truth? Instead, the man took the seat offered without waiting for Artemisia to be reseated.
For anyone else, this would have signified nothing. For Grindelwald however, it held a greater meaning. A firm conformer to the old rules of etiquette, Grindelwald never took a seat before it had been offered and never sat before all ladies present had been seated.
This did not pass Artemisia's notice. With a look of outrage she commented, "All the ladies have not yet been seated."
Pleased his slight had been noticed, Grindelwald responded. "I do not see any ladies standing."
"You will stand before me or you will writhe at my feet in agony."
When Grindelwald made no movement beyond a smirk in her direction, Artemisia drew her wand. All present with the exception of Grindelwald rose in alarm. Before anything could be done to stop her, Artemisia cast.
"Incendio!"
As his chair erupted in flames, Grindelwald by necessity rose as well. When Grindelwald bowed and chuckled in response before moving down the table to push in Artemisia's chair for her, Armando could not help but wonder exactly what went on between the two Unspeakables when they were alone back at the Department of Mysteries.
After the young auror extinguished the flames, everyone still rather disturbed settled back into their own chairs. Grindelwald made use of the second chair left for him.
As the first course appeared, Artemisia, never one to let something pass, again turned her attentions to the other lady present.
"Tell me Professor. What is it you teach here?"
"Astronomy," was the wary reply.
"That must be very interesting for you, I am sure."
Artemisia's wicked grin again appeared as she turned her attentions to the Headmaster. In a voice loud enough to reach back to Professor Brynhild, she asked a question of him.
"Tell me Armando, have you found a replacement for her yet? For next year, I mean."
Armando Dippet frowned, but expressed no denial as the table went quiet and Professor Brynhild dropped her spoon. Indeed, he had already begun making discreet inquiries.
"Must you always be so cruel, Artemisia?"
"I'm simply trying to make polite dinner conversation," responded Artemisia, in an anything but innocent tone. "Surely, you noticed by now she will not be…shall we say available to teach next year?"
Armando watched as with a look of horror, the Astronomy Mistress fled the room.
The Creature Master Sigurd had only one comment to share with Artemisia before following after to comfort his colleague.
"Go back to hell where you belong."
Artemisia chuckled in response.
"Yes, he will need to be replaced next year as well."
Turning her attentions now to the as yet quiet Transfiguration Master, Artemisia asked. "What say you Dumbledore? Do you think I belong in hell?"
Armando watched as risking her ire, Dumbledore responded without the slightest diffidence. "A great poet once said something to the effect of, 'Some people can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven'. I do believe you would fall into the latter category."
Armando noticed he was the only one who could bring himself to chuckle at the reply. Artemisia also seemed amused, but with her even that wasn't always enough.
"Let me offer you a few brief words of your future. 'Whom the gods love die young."
Armando was pleased to see that Dumbledore was not so easily distressed as some of his colleagues.
"Artemisia, I never knew you were fond of muggle poetry. While age wise, even I would hardly call myself young, I do believe the full passage you are referring to, by Margaret Bruner is
'Whom the gods love die young, I used to quote
Glibly, but in the rather thoughtless way,
One says a thing that he has learned by rote
Nor knows the meaning which the words convey.
For then I thought it meant they died when young
In years, and this no doubt is often true;
But now with time a clearer note has rung
New meaning to the words; there are a few
Whom time can never age-not even with years;
These keep a dream, nor let its flame burn low…
They look ahead, beyond regrets and tears-
Old age is something they can never know.'
So Artemisia, I will take your words as a compliment and leave it at that."
Again filling his spoon with consommé, the auburn haired man paused with it in the air looking slightly distressed for the first time. "Although, I do hope this does not mean you favor me. The name Artemisia is I believe a derivative of the goddess Artemis?"
With the closest thing to a real smile Dippet had even seen on her face, Artemisia responded.
"To answer your question, no, I do not offer favor to you. I leave your fate with a later goddess. Actually, I was named for the painter Artemisia. You may recall she was wronged by a man and unjustly put on trial after attempting to bring charges against him. My mother was also a Seer and knew her own fate. You could consider it her sense of humor."
Asgard had finally regained his tongue.
"Yes, your line has only turned out Seers for the many generations now. A pity really." Seeing Artemisia's glare, he quickly amended. "Not that it isn't a useful ability, but even you must admit some of the other abilities your line is said to carry are considerably more valuable."
Artemisia was not to be appeased so easily. "Pity your line has never managed to produce anything of worth."
During the next course, Artemisia again attempted to strike up her peculiar idea of conversation with the others.
"Tell me Armando, what say you of fate and destiny? Do you think what happens is predestined or is there some room for negotiation in it all?"
Disturbed at not knowing what it was she was getting at, Dippet responded truthfully.
"I believe people make their own choices. They decide who they want to be by their own actions. That they do not always get the outcome they intended is not to say it is the fault of fate."
Artemisia did not agree.
"I think everything is predestined. I don't believe any of us have a choice in what we do."
"I am not surprised you feel that way." Armando Dippet responded. "You must think it an apt excuse for the things you do."
Ignoring the slight, Artemisia added. "If we had a choice, if the future could be altered, why is it already set? My visions always remain constant."
The Minister of Magic wanted no further part of the conversation, nor did the young auror. Dumbledore began to offer his contribution, but Artemisia had no desire to hear from him.
"Nothing you could say is relevant yet, Dumbledore. What say you, Grindelwald?"
Having no opinion of his own on the matter or at least unwilling to share it, Grindelwald again expressed a sentiment stated earlier in the evening.
"Go back to hell where you belong, Artemisia."
"Only if I can take you with me."
Not content to let the matter drop, Artemisia continued the discussion by herself.
"The centaurs believe in predestination, even the unicorns do. When I was younger I used to wander the forests on these grounds. The centaurs say to slay a unicorn is a monstrous thing, but the unicorns don't seem to mind. The unicorns are so magical, so powerful, and yet for their own behalf, they will not intercede in the actions of other beings. The Herdmaster once told me that a piercing of any kind could kill a unicorn because the wound will not heal by itself. It just keeps bleeding. The way to heal a unicorn is to feed them the blood of another unicorn. The blood of a unicorn will keep a human from dying, no matter how close to death, but it will not restore them. But for another unicorn, it will restore them to full health. The unicorns know this and if they get hurt wandering through the forest, they seek out another of their kind. But the Herdmaster said if a person intentionally injures them they will not seek out assistance. They prefer to accept their lot. Admirable creatures really."
The rest of the meal passed without further incident. As the final course arrived, Artemisia suggested a tour of the school to the others. When Dippet pointed out that all present already knew the school quite well having either attended at one point or currently being employed there, Artemisia insisted he at least accompany her.
"I don't think you have ever quite experienced the school the way I have begun to lately."
With not a small amount of trepidation, Dippet acquiesced. When the last course was cleared, he rose expectantly. Artemisia, however made no such movement.
"Let the blind leave. Then we can begin here."
Gladly, the Minister and his escort departed. Dippet looked on as Dumbledore also excused himself. When only Artemisia, Grindelwald, and himself remained, Artemisia's lips twitched as she spoke again.
"Grindelwald, off with you. I said the blind could leave."
"Die witch."
Artemisia's mouth broke into a full grin. "Make me."
Seeing that he was not to be put off, Artemisia began.
"Do you see it, Armando? So much of it is in this very room."
Armando frowned. "I have seen it."
Not being able to see it, Grindelwald didn't frown as much as Armando.
"I think it is glorious. Magnificent, like a work of art."
"You would. You truly are soulless, Artemisia."
"That very well may be, Armando. But I never could accomplish this. You must admit it is quite an achievement."
"I would hardly call it an achievement. Somehow my idea of an achievement doesn't involve so much carnage. I cannot tell the why though. Do you see the why?"
Artemisia shrugged. "Yes, but I do not intend to tell you. After all does it matter? Does the why really matter? Isn't it enough that she does it?"
"I think it does matter."
Seeing Grindelwald's unalarmed expression, Artemisia laughed. "You truly are blind, Grindelwald. Come, let us wander the halls, there is much more to be seen."
Artemisia gave a chuckle whenever they passed a suit of armor. The banister of the first staircase she reached was caressed lovingly. "She will be rather clever, ingenious really. Some of the ways she kills them…I must say the greenhouse is my personal favorite. What is yours, Armando?"
Armando stopped his walking and put a hand on Artemisia's arm, making her turn to face him. "I don't understand the children. What is to become of the children? They are all there and then I simply can not see them anymore."
Artemisia again showed him her cruel smile. "Well, I should say the greenhouse is my favorite out of the ways she eliminates the adults. What she does to the little monstrosities running about, well, I would call it poetic really."
Turning to Grindelwald, she asked him.
"What is your opinion of what she does to the children?"
Not content to leave the taunt at that, Artemisia smiled seductively at Grindelwald before making an offer.
"Would you like to see, Grindelwald? I can show you."
"How?" asked Grindelwald.
Dippet could hold his tongue no longer.
"Do not listen to her. Do not take that which she offers you. You do not wish to see this."
Ignoring the man older and wiser than himself, Grindelwald again asked. "How?"
"Give me your hand." Artemisia commanded.
Dippet watched with sickening realization as Grindelwald gazed into Artemisia's cold gray eyes, attempting to penetrate their depths. He made a final effort to warn the man away.
"I give you my word, Grindelwald, once you see this future you will wish you never had. You will never again know peace of mind. Take what she offers and you will become a part of it."
Never one to admit he had betters, Grindelwald was not one to take their advice. He extended his hand. Armando Dippet bore witness to Artemisia slashing his palm and her own. Grindelwald, fool that he was, only looked on in surprise as Artemisia touched the palms together, mingling the bloods. As the last remnant of an ancient bloodline, Artemisia had no need to cast a spell or utter an incantation to produce a bond. The exchange of bloods was enough.
As the ancient marriage bond took hold, Artemisia again shared her cruel laugh with the world. The ancient bonds served many uses. Unlike the marriage ceremonies most commonly practiced today, they were irreversible, lasting until the death of one of the parties. The old ceremonies were used as a sort of restriction, providing if not fidelity between the parties, at least the assurance that any children conceived would have to be the work of both. Another use, the reason Grindelwald had agreed, was that the bond allowed for the pooling of certain powers, including the Sight.
Whether it was just that he was only seeing this future clearly for the first time, or it was the now sure knowledge that he would be the father of this future, either way, what was revealed to Grindelwald horrified him. Armando Dippet looked on as a stunned Grindelwald began to see the terrible images that so pleased Artemisia. Their raven haired, gray eyed daughter would someday come to wander these halls. During a party, which by the difference in her attire from the others, it appeared she had not been invited to, from room to room, all through the castle she would go, slaughtering every adult participant she found. And Gods, the children. What she did to the children, well, Armando tried not to think of such things.
Armando knew Grindelwald to be an unlikable man, but he also knew him not to be so irredeemable as Artemisia. And even if he hadn't known it before, he would know it now watching Grindelwald take Artemisia by the shoulders and shake her, trying to get the answer they both sought to rattle out. The bond did after all allow something for the sharing of power, but the sharing was not often equitable, and still Grindelwald could not see the future as well as Artemisia.
"Why? Why does she do this? Tell me the why! There has to be a reason. A cause. If you tell us the why maybe we can do something to prevent this. To stop her."
Artemisia, never one to be helpful only chuckled, amused.
"Why ever would we want to stop her?"
A/N Laura I absolutely love the way you do your reviews. Knowing exactly what managed to hit home with the reader is priceless. And as for your predictions- well I love them too. Its great to see people working to try to put together the clues and red herrings I dropped. And I do take heed of what you say. You actually provoked me to write a few more explicit love scene, which unfortunately you won't see for many chapters.
Mavidian I'm glad you appreciated the 'Afterwards, Harry liked to think' paragraph. I wanted to use it to build the suspense and to remind the reader that while the children were there, they are children and were just too shocked or too slow to respond to the very unexpected situation they found themselves in.
Diggory is not related to the Longbottoms, he is just slowly being consumed by his son's death. Lacking the ability to directly lash out at his son's murderer, he turns against a person it is known that at least in the past, Voldemort has….hmm wait never mind, can't give you too much information ;-
As for your other question about another of my stories, Midnight Wanderings it will actually eventually be absorbed as a chapter of this story and be continued in that way. In my mind, the majority of this story is already planned out and its not uncommon for me to get the uncontrollable urge to write a segment before I really need to in the chronology of this story. I just couldn't wait to share that chapter any longer, so I cleaned it up a bit and put it up as a stand alone/teaser for this story.
Thank you again for reviewing petriebird18, Dark Lulu, Minerva Dumbledore1, Redwoman06, LinZe, VoyICJ, Minerva Lea, Tabby Girl, Child-of-the -Dawn, and CEA.
If you have a minute after reading this story and want a little chuckle check out my other story When Kneazles Attack http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1534554
It is incredibly short, nothing to do with this story, and literally won't take more than a minute to read and review.
More A/N with individual thanks and answers to people's questions about earlier chapters at the end of this chapter.
In the morning, before leaving his office and Hogwarts to apparate to the area around The Burrow, Dumbledore filled his Pensive with all the memories he believed to be relevant. That not all the memories were his own was, he believed a necessity if he wanted to make Harry fully understand why certain events had occurred and indeed were still occurring. Through the years, in his own attempts to better understand things that had come to pass, Albus Dumbledore had harvested the memories of a few others.
After making his way through the expanded wards around the Weasley home, Dumbledore quickly said his greetings to the others before requesting Harry to accompany him into the back garden. That Harry was willing to come at all, albeit was reluctantly, Dumbledore took as a good sign. Perhaps, at least Dumbledore hoped, having had a bit more time to think about what he had seen and heard, Harry had begun to realize that things are not always as clear cut as we would like them to be. And as Alastor Moody had so clearly stated twice in Harry's shared memory yesterday, Draco Malfoy's tongue was a dangerous thing and never to be fully trusted.
"Harry, I want to explain some things to you. I believe you left my office yesterday with some incorrect perceptions."
When Harry made no interruption and still would not meet his eyes, Dumbledore continued.
"I have entered into the Pensive a series of memories that I believe pertain to the question you asked last night. I did have occasion once in the past to use the Imperius curse on Professor McGonagall. But I think, after you have seen the events leading up to it, you will come to the conclusion that my intentions were not without honor."
Dumbledore gestured towards the Pensive, inviting Harry to enter. Harry paused for a moment, then met his gaze. Seeing only warmth and kindness, he nodded before entering.
Dumbledore wanting to give him the privacy needed to draw his own conclusions did not enter with Harry Potter. Instead he remained outside and merely observed. Truth be told, mused Albus Dumbledore, perhaps the true reason for not entering was because he himself wished to remember without the constant interruption of the questions he knew Harry would have asked had he been present.
And so standing outside, staring into the Pensive, Dumbledore too remembered the past events. Unlike the abbreviated memories Harry viewed, Dumbledore's version was fuller and contained some details he deemed too personal, for the sake of others, to have Harry view.
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Even Headmaster Dippet was surprised when Artemisia arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for dinner. A gifted Seer, Dippet was seldom surprised. But a Seer's Sight could often be distorted by the vision of one more powerful and even as a child Artemisia's Sight had always been without peer.
As the only survivor of the fire that had wiped out the Wizengamot Council and killed her mother, Mnemosyne, Armando Dippet had taken it upon himself to see to the girl's upbringing. Truth be told, given that Mnemosyne was the one who started the fire and sealed the chamber doors so that no one sitting in judgment of her could leave, it was not terribly surprising that no one else had been willing to claim the girl. It was only because of his animagus form, a salamander, that he had managed to survive. That he was never very gifted at Transfiguration and indeed had never attempted the animagus transformation before, nor since that day was knowledge that would not be entirely unexpected to those who knew him best.
Try as he had to bring peace and love or at least stability to the young girl's life upon acquiring her, Armando had always felt his influence was no match to that of the girl's late mother. The old adage 'the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world' does often hold true and being as she was of the House of Themis, no father had ever been present to temper the righteous anger and outrage of Mnemosyne.
Artemisia had remained with Dippet for eight long years. In that time, she walked the corridors and classrooms of Hogwarts unchallenged by faculty or student. Even the castle spirits did not molest her. Having once had the misfortune of walking through Artemisia, the Bloody Baron claimed to have received a chill from her. Upon reaching legal age and leaving, she had foretold only seeing Dippet again shortly before one of their deaths.
Being as she was thirty and he was beginning to seriously contemplate the possibility of a third century, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Armando Dippet greeted Artemisia when she suddenly appeared in his office. His Deputy Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Shackleton, was perhaps more startled. Looking into Artemisia's cold gray eyes, he dropped the stack of parchments in his hand and forgetting he was a wizard, kneeled to pick them up.
Armando was certain the evening of surprises had only just begun when the Minister of Magic arrived under the mistaken impression that Dippet had invited him for dinner.
Shortly after, when they sat down to dinner in the Great Hall, even with the added presence of Artemisia, Minister Asgard, and the young auror currently serving as his bodyguard, Alastor Moody, the faculty table looked deserted. Artemisia's reputation preceded her and only three professors choose to dine that evening. Transfiguration Master Albus Dumbledore, Care of Magical Creatures Master Sigurd and the Astronomy Mistress Brynhild were the only ones either brave enough or foolish enough to attend.
When all were seated, it was Minister Asgard who broke the silence.
"Dippet, if you didn't invite me here for dinner, would someone kindly explain what I am doing here?"
"I assure you Minister, it was not I who summoned you." Dippet replied calmly. Eyeing Artemisia, he tried without success to gage what her intentions were.
"Moody, you are the one that brought me here. Why did you tell me we were to have dinner with the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
The handsome young auror blushed furiously and shot a look at Artemisia, as if expecting her to respond for him. Artemisia for her part kept looking at the door expectantly. Giving up hope of her intervention, Moody stammered out a reply.
"Well, you see sir…It..It wasn't on your schedule, but Unspeakable Themis…Sir, she stopped by your office this afternoon to remind me. She said you were to have dinner at Hogwarts this evening with Headmaster Dippet."
Asgard only looked at Artemisia with great reluctance.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Artemisia fixed the Minister with a smile that never reached her eyes.
"I have been having a great many visions of Hogwarts recently. One of today's included all of us being here together at dinner. As you can see, my visions always come true."
Professor Brynhild, having never met Artemisia before, didn't know it was best not to respond.
"I really do not think someone showing up to dinner after you invite them counts as a successful prediction."
The expression of pure wrath Artemisia directed at the other woman was enough to make Dippet stand in anticipation.
The appearance of a house elf diverted her attentions, however. The house elf on standing orders from Dippet, began removing all the unnecessary place settings and chairs. Dippet found nothing as disturbing as empty settings at a table. The Seer in him always found the sight to be a harbinger of death and ill tidings. Truth be told, tonight the house elves need not have bothered. Artemisia herself was a more accurate omen of unpleasant things to come than even the Grim. Like a Dementor, happiness and any pleasant feelings could not abide in her presence.
"Leave one setting." Artemisia commanded. As an after thought she added, " And two chairs."
"Who else is coming?" Asked a disturbed Asgard .
Artemisia's lips curled into the closest approximation of a smile she could manage.
"Grindelwald."
Dippet noticed the shudder go through the Minister of Magic. It was well known, that Asgard was not fond of either of the Unspeakables who spent their days in the Department of Mysteries filling little glass orbs with predictions of the future. But then really was anyone fond of either of them?
Artemisia was cold and cruel. She made a point out of inflicting as much punishment as she could on anyone she came into contact with, and this habit extended to her predictions. Though never inaccurate, she had a disturbing way in which she phrased her predictions. If ever there was a way to take the happiest or most benign future and dement it, she found it. If it were an honest mistake it would be one thing, but Artemisia viewed the future clearly. She willingly chose to misrepresent things.
Grindelwald on the other hand was just disagreeable and barely competent. Oh, he did have the Sight certainly, but he was nearsighted enough that he might just as well have been blind. While Artemisia mangled prophecies to suit her own purposes, Grindelwald just mangled them. This lacking on Grindelwald's part, much like any weakness she found in others, was something Artemisia took great delight in pointing out at any opportunity.
"You invited him as well?"
"Not in so many words, but I did leave notice I would be here. And he will come."
"Why two chairs?" Asgard persisted.
"Because the first will soon be uninhabitable."
Not even Dippet could decipher what that meant. He gave up trying when shortly after the doors to the Great Hall flew open and in came the man in question. Grindelwald's robes billowed menacingly, which matched well with the expression of absolute fury that contorted his features.
As he approached the Head table, Artemisia rose to greet him. "What an unexpected surprise, Grindelwald."
In response, Grindelwald threw an orb past Artemisia where it shattered against the wall. The content of the prophecy within it was drowned out by the seething roar of the man who threw it.
"How dare you! How dare you alter one of my prophecies!"
Artemisia shrugged, enjoying the response she had elicited. "I merely corrected it for you. You should be grateful. It's not my fault your Vision is clouded."
Attempting to diffuse the situation, Dippet gestured to the unclaimed place setting. "As you are here anyway, join us for dinner, Grindelwald."
For a moment, it appeared that Grindelwald was planning to continue the conversation with Artemisia. But really, what could the man say in response to the truth? Instead, the man took the seat offered without waiting for Artemisia to be reseated.
For anyone else, this would have signified nothing. For Grindelwald however, it held a greater meaning. A firm conformer to the old rules of etiquette, Grindelwald never took a seat before it had been offered and never sat before all ladies present had been seated.
This did not pass Artemisia's notice. With a look of outrage she commented, "All the ladies have not yet been seated."
Pleased his slight had been noticed, Grindelwald responded. "I do not see any ladies standing."
"You will stand before me or you will writhe at my feet in agony."
When Grindelwald made no movement beyond a smirk in her direction, Artemisia drew her wand. All present with the exception of Grindelwald rose in alarm. Before anything could be done to stop her, Artemisia cast.
"Incendio!"
As his chair erupted in flames, Grindelwald by necessity rose as well. When Grindelwald bowed and chuckled in response before moving down the table to push in Artemisia's chair for her, Armando could not help but wonder exactly what went on between the two Unspeakables when they were alone back at the Department of Mysteries.
After the young auror extinguished the flames, everyone still rather disturbed settled back into their own chairs. Grindelwald made use of the second chair left for him.
As the first course appeared, Artemisia, never one to let something pass, again turned her attentions to the other lady present.
"Tell me Professor. What is it you teach here?"
"Astronomy," was the wary reply.
"That must be very interesting for you, I am sure."
Artemisia's wicked grin again appeared as she turned her attentions to the Headmaster. In a voice loud enough to reach back to Professor Brynhild, she asked a question of him.
"Tell me Armando, have you found a replacement for her yet? For next year, I mean."
Armando Dippet frowned, but expressed no denial as the table went quiet and Professor Brynhild dropped her spoon. Indeed, he had already begun making discreet inquiries.
"Must you always be so cruel, Artemisia?"
"I'm simply trying to make polite dinner conversation," responded Artemisia, in an anything but innocent tone. "Surely, you noticed by now she will not be…shall we say available to teach next year?"
Armando watched as with a look of horror, the Astronomy Mistress fled the room.
The Creature Master Sigurd had only one comment to share with Artemisia before following after to comfort his colleague.
"Go back to hell where you belong."
Artemisia chuckled in response.
"Yes, he will need to be replaced next year as well."
Turning her attentions now to the as yet quiet Transfiguration Master, Artemisia asked. "What say you Dumbledore? Do you think I belong in hell?"
Armando watched as risking her ire, Dumbledore responded without the slightest diffidence. "A great poet once said something to the effect of, 'Some people can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven'. I do believe you would fall into the latter category."
Armando noticed he was the only one who could bring himself to chuckle at the reply. Artemisia also seemed amused, but with her even that wasn't always enough.
"Let me offer you a few brief words of your future. 'Whom the gods love die young."
Armando was pleased to see that Dumbledore was not so easily distressed as some of his colleagues.
"Artemisia, I never knew you were fond of muggle poetry. While age wise, even I would hardly call myself young, I do believe the full passage you are referring to, by Margaret Bruner is
'Whom the gods love die young, I used to quote
Glibly, but in the rather thoughtless way,
One says a thing that he has learned by rote
Nor knows the meaning which the words convey.
For then I thought it meant they died when young
In years, and this no doubt is often true;
But now with time a clearer note has rung
New meaning to the words; there are a few
Whom time can never age-not even with years;
These keep a dream, nor let its flame burn low…
They look ahead, beyond regrets and tears-
Old age is something they can never know.'
So Artemisia, I will take your words as a compliment and leave it at that."
Again filling his spoon with consommé, the auburn haired man paused with it in the air looking slightly distressed for the first time. "Although, I do hope this does not mean you favor me. The name Artemisia is I believe a derivative of the goddess Artemis?"
With the closest thing to a real smile Dippet had even seen on her face, Artemisia responded.
"To answer your question, no, I do not offer favor to you. I leave your fate with a later goddess. Actually, I was named for the painter Artemisia. You may recall she was wronged by a man and unjustly put on trial after attempting to bring charges against him. My mother was also a Seer and knew her own fate. You could consider it her sense of humor."
Asgard had finally regained his tongue.
"Yes, your line has only turned out Seers for the many generations now. A pity really." Seeing Artemisia's glare, he quickly amended. "Not that it isn't a useful ability, but even you must admit some of the other abilities your line is said to carry are considerably more valuable."
Artemisia was not to be appeased so easily. "Pity your line has never managed to produce anything of worth."
During the next course, Artemisia again attempted to strike up her peculiar idea of conversation with the others.
"Tell me Armando, what say you of fate and destiny? Do you think what happens is predestined or is there some room for negotiation in it all?"
Disturbed at not knowing what it was she was getting at, Dippet responded truthfully.
"I believe people make their own choices. They decide who they want to be by their own actions. That they do not always get the outcome they intended is not to say it is the fault of fate."
Artemisia did not agree.
"I think everything is predestined. I don't believe any of us have a choice in what we do."
"I am not surprised you feel that way." Armando Dippet responded. "You must think it an apt excuse for the things you do."
Ignoring the slight, Artemisia added. "If we had a choice, if the future could be altered, why is it already set? My visions always remain constant."
The Minister of Magic wanted no further part of the conversation, nor did the young auror. Dumbledore began to offer his contribution, but Artemisia had no desire to hear from him.
"Nothing you could say is relevant yet, Dumbledore. What say you, Grindelwald?"
Having no opinion of his own on the matter or at least unwilling to share it, Grindelwald again expressed a sentiment stated earlier in the evening.
"Go back to hell where you belong, Artemisia."
"Only if I can take you with me."
Not content to let the matter drop, Artemisia continued the discussion by herself.
"The centaurs believe in predestination, even the unicorns do. When I was younger I used to wander the forests on these grounds. The centaurs say to slay a unicorn is a monstrous thing, but the unicorns don't seem to mind. The unicorns are so magical, so powerful, and yet for their own behalf, they will not intercede in the actions of other beings. The Herdmaster once told me that a piercing of any kind could kill a unicorn because the wound will not heal by itself. It just keeps bleeding. The way to heal a unicorn is to feed them the blood of another unicorn. The blood of a unicorn will keep a human from dying, no matter how close to death, but it will not restore them. But for another unicorn, it will restore them to full health. The unicorns know this and if they get hurt wandering through the forest, they seek out another of their kind. But the Herdmaster said if a person intentionally injures them they will not seek out assistance. They prefer to accept their lot. Admirable creatures really."
The rest of the meal passed without further incident. As the final course arrived, Artemisia suggested a tour of the school to the others. When Dippet pointed out that all present already knew the school quite well having either attended at one point or currently being employed there, Artemisia insisted he at least accompany her.
"I don't think you have ever quite experienced the school the way I have begun to lately."
With not a small amount of trepidation, Dippet acquiesced. When the last course was cleared, he rose expectantly. Artemisia, however made no such movement.
"Let the blind leave. Then we can begin here."
Gladly, the Minister and his escort departed. Dippet looked on as Dumbledore also excused himself. When only Artemisia, Grindelwald, and himself remained, Artemisia's lips twitched as she spoke again.
"Grindelwald, off with you. I said the blind could leave."
"Die witch."
Artemisia's mouth broke into a full grin. "Make me."
Seeing that he was not to be put off, Artemisia began.
"Do you see it, Armando? So much of it is in this very room."
Armando frowned. "I have seen it."
Not being able to see it, Grindelwald didn't frown as much as Armando.
"I think it is glorious. Magnificent, like a work of art."
"You would. You truly are soulless, Artemisia."
"That very well may be, Armando. But I never could accomplish this. You must admit it is quite an achievement."
"I would hardly call it an achievement. Somehow my idea of an achievement doesn't involve so much carnage. I cannot tell the why though. Do you see the why?"
Artemisia shrugged. "Yes, but I do not intend to tell you. After all does it matter? Does the why really matter? Isn't it enough that she does it?"
"I think it does matter."
Seeing Grindelwald's unalarmed expression, Artemisia laughed. "You truly are blind, Grindelwald. Come, let us wander the halls, there is much more to be seen."
Artemisia gave a chuckle whenever they passed a suit of armor. The banister of the first staircase she reached was caressed lovingly. "She will be rather clever, ingenious really. Some of the ways she kills them…I must say the greenhouse is my personal favorite. What is yours, Armando?"
Armando stopped his walking and put a hand on Artemisia's arm, making her turn to face him. "I don't understand the children. What is to become of the children? They are all there and then I simply can not see them anymore."
Artemisia again showed him her cruel smile. "Well, I should say the greenhouse is my favorite out of the ways she eliminates the adults. What she does to the little monstrosities running about, well, I would call it poetic really."
Turning to Grindelwald, she asked him.
"What is your opinion of what she does to the children?"
Not content to leave the taunt at that, Artemisia smiled seductively at Grindelwald before making an offer.
"Would you like to see, Grindelwald? I can show you."
"How?" asked Grindelwald.
Dippet could hold his tongue no longer.
"Do not listen to her. Do not take that which she offers you. You do not wish to see this."
Ignoring the man older and wiser than himself, Grindelwald again asked. "How?"
"Give me your hand." Artemisia commanded.
Dippet watched with sickening realization as Grindelwald gazed into Artemisia's cold gray eyes, attempting to penetrate their depths. He made a final effort to warn the man away.
"I give you my word, Grindelwald, once you see this future you will wish you never had. You will never again know peace of mind. Take what she offers and you will become a part of it."
Never one to admit he had betters, Grindelwald was not one to take their advice. He extended his hand. Armando Dippet bore witness to Artemisia slashing his palm and her own. Grindelwald, fool that he was, only looked on in surprise as Artemisia touched the palms together, mingling the bloods. As the last remnant of an ancient bloodline, Artemisia had no need to cast a spell or utter an incantation to produce a bond. The exchange of bloods was enough.
As the ancient marriage bond took hold, Artemisia again shared her cruel laugh with the world. The ancient bonds served many uses. Unlike the marriage ceremonies most commonly practiced today, they were irreversible, lasting until the death of one of the parties. The old ceremonies were used as a sort of restriction, providing if not fidelity between the parties, at least the assurance that any children conceived would have to be the work of both. Another use, the reason Grindelwald had agreed, was that the bond allowed for the pooling of certain powers, including the Sight.
Whether it was just that he was only seeing this future clearly for the first time, or it was the now sure knowledge that he would be the father of this future, either way, what was revealed to Grindelwald horrified him. Armando Dippet looked on as a stunned Grindelwald began to see the terrible images that so pleased Artemisia. Their raven haired, gray eyed daughter would someday come to wander these halls. During a party, which by the difference in her attire from the others, it appeared she had not been invited to, from room to room, all through the castle she would go, slaughtering every adult participant she found. And Gods, the children. What she did to the children, well, Armando tried not to think of such things.
Armando knew Grindelwald to be an unlikable man, but he also knew him not to be so irredeemable as Artemisia. And even if he hadn't known it before, he would know it now watching Grindelwald take Artemisia by the shoulders and shake her, trying to get the answer they both sought to rattle out. The bond did after all allow something for the sharing of power, but the sharing was not often equitable, and still Grindelwald could not see the future as well as Artemisia.
"Why? Why does she do this? Tell me the why! There has to be a reason. A cause. If you tell us the why maybe we can do something to prevent this. To stop her."
Artemisia, never one to be helpful only chuckled, amused.
"Why ever would we want to stop her?"
A/N Laura I absolutely love the way you do your reviews. Knowing exactly what managed to hit home with the reader is priceless. And as for your predictions- well I love them too. Its great to see people working to try to put together the clues and red herrings I dropped. And I do take heed of what you say. You actually provoked me to write a few more explicit love scene, which unfortunately you won't see for many chapters.
Mavidian I'm glad you appreciated the 'Afterwards, Harry liked to think' paragraph. I wanted to use it to build the suspense and to remind the reader that while the children were there, they are children and were just too shocked or too slow to respond to the very unexpected situation they found themselves in.
Diggory is not related to the Longbottoms, he is just slowly being consumed by his son's death. Lacking the ability to directly lash out at his son's murderer, he turns against a person it is known that at least in the past, Voldemort has….hmm wait never mind, can't give you too much information ;-
As for your other question about another of my stories, Midnight Wanderings it will actually eventually be absorbed as a chapter of this story and be continued in that way. In my mind, the majority of this story is already planned out and its not uncommon for me to get the uncontrollable urge to write a segment before I really need to in the chronology of this story. I just couldn't wait to share that chapter any longer, so I cleaned it up a bit and put it up as a stand alone/teaser for this story.
Thank you again for reviewing petriebird18, Dark Lulu, Minerva Dumbledore1, Redwoman06, LinZe, VoyICJ, Minerva Lea, Tabby Girl, Child-of-the -Dawn, and CEA.