Author Note: Wow, either the fandom is dying a slow death or people don't like this story very much. I would like to thank those of you who followed me or this story or both. I would also love to hear your opinion, so don't be shy with the Reviews. For any writer, the best you can provide is feedback. If you know a friend who reads fanfiction (you know who you are ;)) please share. (We're on Youtube now, yes.)
Now that that's out of the way, and without further ado, enjoy!
In Which Hermione Becomes the New High Priestess, Oh Boy...
The following couple of days reminded Hermione of the few weeks after the Tri-Wizards Tournament and Cedric's death. There was a brief period of respite when neither the Minister of Magic nor The Prophet knew quite how to react, before the slander campaign against Dumbledore and Harry, when rumors ran wild and people were waiting for the other shoe to drop. This time, however, it wasn't the threat of the Dark Lord which loomed overhead, but rather the threat of King Uther Pendragon, The Tyrant as he was known in some communities.
People walked huddled together, whispering, wondering and just desperate for information and a miracle solution. Mordred spent most of his free time next to Hermione, holding onto her hand if it was free or just standing close to her. Despite the Elder and Iseldir trying to keep an air of normalcy and routine, the children still felt the uneasy in the air and it made their learning harder. There were more instances of accidental magic now than any other time since Hermione arrived at the camp.
Surprisingly, Mordred seemed to succeed more than the other children in his meditation, and when Hermione asked him why, Mordred's answer baffled her.
"I'm going to become as good as you are, or even better, to protect you," Mordred declared, and Hermione's heart was gripped with fear. She didn't want Mordred to protect her. It was her job to protect him.
There was a bit of respite from the whole thing when Aida told Hermione that Alaric had asked her mother to court her. She said that of course Adeline had been suspicious because Alaric had just shown interest in Hermione, but that Alaric insisted they parted in friendly ways. Hermione assured Aida that it would never work out with Alaric and then went to reassure Adeline that no, they weren't courting anymore, and yes, it was Hermione who pushed Alaric to ask.
Hermione spent most of her time practicing all the healing spells she learned from Agrona since she started her apprenticeship, and Agrona was determined to teach her every other spell she knew. Even spells that didn't have anything to do with healing.
"The time is approaching when you might need them," was all Agrona said when Hermione asked.
Aside from that, Agrona had started teaching her on more complex potions to cure burns and a proto-Dittany in order to help wounds heal faster. These potions could be the difference between life and death, Agrona explained, and Hermione committed them to memory. When she could, she would sneak to the woods and attempt to use the other spells she knew from her time, especially the warding and protective spells that could keep her newfound family safe. She wasn't sure if it was the Latin, the lack of wand or the fact that magic seemed to be sentient in this era, but Hermione could not get them to work.
There was one druid tasked with transporting himself to their brethren camp in Camelot at least once a day to wait for news. The reports he brought back made the Elder pale and that frightened Hermione. She felt useless sitting around doing nothing, so in those times she would return to practicing spells and brewing potions.
Three days after the prince was bitten, Mordred was being particularly clingy.
"I'm scared," he confessed to her in a whisper, and Hermione hugged him close.
"It's going to be okay," she said, trying to be reassuring, "we'll be okay."
"I don't want you to die," he said then, and Hermione felt her heart pounding.
"I'm not going to die," Hermione replied, fiercely, trying to imbue as much determination as she could in her voice, and she felt Mordred minimally relax. He spent the rest of the day helping her with her potion making and meditating next to her.
Hermione also felt terribly puzzled by what she knew from the legends; even as her new life in the medieval era constantly proved the legends wrong, as it was her only source of knowledge, she still relied on it to some extent. This had never happened. Had she caused this event to happen when she traveled a thousand years into the future? Or maybe it did happen regardless of her intervention and the legends just latched onto the next person who was called Arthur and mashed them both together. She had no way of knowing, and that bothered her. What she wouldn't give to get her hands on a book...
That evening when their messenger returned from Camelot, he was smiling. Hermione rushed to hear the news, which had to be good or the messenger had lost his marbles, and invariably Mordred followed after her. The messenger was really talking to the Elder, but nearly everyone at the camp had gathered around them to hear.
"The prince lives!" he exclaimed, and there was a collective exhale or relief.
Hermione's legs gave out from under her and Mordred used the opportunity to pounce on her, clinging to her neck and crying. Hermione was crying too and held onto Mordred just as tightly. When they recovered, they walked around looking for Aida and Adeline, and they found them just outside their tent hugging each other and crying. When they saw Hermione and Mordred, they opened their arms and included them in their hug.
That night there was a huge, celebratory feast. The women brought out all the drums they had, and people who didn't have a drum used hollow logs or rocks to fashion themselves an instrument. People danced, clapped, sang and all their dread from the past couple of days turned into a merry time. They brought out the mead and the ale, which were reserved only for very special occasions, and instead of rabbit stew they had roasted pheasant.
As the night carried on and there was no sign of the people winding down, Hermione was enjoying her ale sitting at the log next to Agrona.
"What does this mean?" Hermione asked her, feeling her skin tingle. She chalked it up to the mead, relief and festive atmosphere.
"It means that there was a trade," Agrona answered.
"A trade?" Hermione asked, feeling a chill in her spine.
"The bite of the Questing Beast is always fatal unless someone makes a trade," Agrona said and the obvious answer fell on Hermione like a rock sinking to the bottom of a lake.
"A life for a life."
Agrona nodded.
"But I thought Uther Pendragon believes all magic is evil," Hermione argued, "he wouldn't have used it even if it killed him. Unless, of course, he is a massive hypocrite."
"I don't think it was Uther who traded Arthur's life for someone else's. He is evil, without a doubt, but he isn't knowledgeable on the arts of the Old Religion," Agrona countered.
Hermione's eyes widened as Merlin's face flashed in her mind, "Emrys."
"Precisely."
"But who's going to die instead of the prince, now?"
Agrona shrugged, "Whoever it is, they have saved a lot of lives with their sacrifice. I will pray for the safe passing of their soul."
A few moments later, Agrona said she'd better call it a night.
"Don't worry about working tomorrow," Agrona told Hermione right before she left, "you brewed enough potions to last us a couple of weeks. Sleep in, or spend some time with Mordred... or just rest."
Hermione wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and just nodded her head. She told Mordred that it was time for bed, and the boy, being a boy, whined all the way but complied. Hermione could see he was tired, and she was as well.
As she was readying for bed, she felt another chill run down her spine and goosebumps break on her skin despite the warm evening. As she contemplated what it could be, her chest tightened almost as if she'd been punched and she was assaulted by visions. She saw Merlin's face twist in an angry grimace. She saw a beautiful dark haired woman with a menacing smile and a dangerous glint to her eyes. She saw an island shrouded in mist from which the remains of a tower protruded like arrows towards the sky.
Her chest loosened and she could breathe again, though she felt light headed. She lied down on the blankets hoping that it would pass soon and unwittingly fell asleep.
The next morning Hermione woke up with a killer headache and confused. She didn't remember falling asleep, and she was very sure she didn't drink that much ale. She remembered the previous night and the visions which assaulted her. She assumed she passed out after that.
She exited the tent only to realize that most of the camp was already awake and she had slept in. Aida grinned at her from the other side of the camp, no doubt thinking Hermione drank too much, and Hermione found she didn't care enough about what Aida thought to correct her. It was a sunny day and the birds were chirping happily in the trees, and yet Hermione couldn't help the sense of foreboding that overcame her. Something was wrong.
She tried to put it in the back of her mind to do her chores, but Agrona noticed and sat her down.
"Something's wrong, but I can't explain what it is," Hermione tried to explain when the healer asked her about her distracted behavior.
"Are you sure you aren't a seer? You seem to be very perceptive to the magic around you," Agrona asked, placing a hand on Hermione's forehead.
"I'm sure I'm not a seer, but I did have a vision last night right before I slept," Hermione told her, hoping that Agrona would have some answers.
"What kind of visions?" Agrona followed up.
"I saw Emrys, and a woman, and I think they were fighting," that last bit came out as a question, but Agrona didn't point it out, "then I saw an island covered in mist that I've never seen before."
Agrona hummed, "You seem a little warm. Why don't you go back to your tent to rest? I'll soon send Mordred with a tonic and some food."
Hermione nodded and walked away, though she would later claim that she didn't remember doing so. She laid back down on the blankets and immediately felt her mind drift. She closed her eyes, and behind her eyelids she saw a mist covered lake, a lone, rickety looking boat, and the same island from the night before. The woman from last night's vision was there again with a mocking grin in her face. In her dream, it started to rain, and she was startled awake by a clap of thunder.
A hand pushed her back down gently, but firmly.
Hermione followed it up to find Mordred looking at her with concern. "It's just me. You have a fever," he said.
"Mordred," Hermione exhaled, "I need the Elder."
"You're sick, and it's pouring outside," Mordred replied.
"Well then, tell him to come. It's important," Hermione pleaded, and Mordred must have seen something in her eyes because he left. When he came back, however, Agrona was in tow instead of the elder.
"What's wrong child?" the old woman asked, placing a wet rag on her forehead.
"I had more visions," Hermione gasped, "the island. It's calling me."
"It was just a dream, dear," Agrona said.
"The woman from before was there too. She must be the High Priestess, right? I think something is going to happen... I need to go," Hermione tried to get up, but the healer pressed her back against the blankets.
"You are delirious, child," the healer said, and fed Hermione a tonic. Within a minute Hermione was back asleep.
Agrona sighed a weary, heavy sighed. She told Mordred to keep watch over Hermione as she went to see the Elder, who was already expecting her.
"Well?" the Elder asked as Agrona sat down.
"The Isle of the Blessed is calling her," Agrona said, "it might be the call of the High Priestess."
"Which means that Nimue will die soon."
"That's the way it seems," Agrona agreed.
The Elder contemplated his options in silence for a few minutes. Agrona waited.
"I don't believe Hermione realizes how powerful she is," the Elder finally said, "and she refuses to believe that her life has been taken out of her hands."
"Destiny is not set in stone," Agrona replied, "she is just a child."
"The prophecies have changed, Agrona, and it's because of her. I believe Destiny knew what it was doing when it sent her here."
Agrona didn't say anything for a few moments.
"What's going to happen now?"
"Tomorrow, you will inform her of what her visions mean. We are in the threshold of change. The life traded for that of Arthur Pendragon hasn't been taken yet, and the imbalance is palpable in the air to those who are sensible enough to feel it," the Elder ordered, "if Hermione is to become the next High Priestess, she must be aware of what it entails."
"What if she doesn't want to become the High Priestess?"
"She'll find that she has little choice in the matter. Destine has already chosen."
The next morning, Hermione woke up confused and drowsy. Part of it was that she slept too much. Part of it was the overwhelming sense of wrong that she could feel in the air, sticking to her skin like glue and made it hard to breathe. She remembered her visions from the night before, and she could feel the pull of her magic that drew her towards that place in her dreams.
She sat up in bed, feeling as if her head was stuffed with cotton, and her movement roused someone else too. Mordred shot up, and immediately placed a hand on Hermione's forehead even if he didn't quite know what he was looking for.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, and his eyes were shinning with concern.
"My head hurts," Hermione said, "do you have any water?"
Mordred passed her a skin with water and Hermione greedily drank. It made her feel marginally better.
"Were you here all night?" Hermione asked.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you go to sleep in your own tent? I'm sure Aida could have taken care of me just fine," Hermione said.
Hurt flashed in Mordred's eyes, "I tried, but I was so worried I couldn't sleep. Aida let me stay here with you... Does that bother you?"
Hermione smiled, "Of course not. I just thought you would have been more comfortable in your own tent."
Mordred didn't say anything to that, but he did take her hand in his. Hermione squeezed back and they sat together in silence for a few minutes.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine," Hermione reassured him.
"Aida took over some of your chores yesterday," Mordred then said, "she's probably going to ask you to take some of hers."
Hermione groaned, eliciting a giggle from Mordred.
"You think it's funny, don't you?" she said, and poked him a few times in his stomach, smiling when he came undone in a peel of laughter.
She got up and took care of her needs outside before shooing Mordred so that she could get dressed. She joined the camp for breakfast and everyone greeted her with a relieved smile. She felt, probably for the first time in her life, a real sense of belonging in these community of magical and non-magical people alike, where they accepted her for who she was, without conditions, without questions, and valued as her own person rather than what she could provide for them. It seemed to her that they had all been worried about her, and now that she felt better, she could see the relief in their faces.
She ate breakfast with abandon, not realizing how hungry she was until the food was in front of her. Then, she went to her apprenticeship with Agrona. It took her a while to convince Mordred that yes, she was okay, and no, she didn't need an escort. Mordred eventually left to his training and Hermione started preparing ingredients for the potion they would make today.
Agrona arrived a few minutes later and sat down on the log they used as a bench.
"Leave that, child and sit with me," Agrona said and Hermione did so, even if it surprised her, "how do you feel today? Be honest."
Hermione sighed. "I feel stuffy, like my head is too light or something. What I felt yesterday hasn't left either, that sense of wrongness. I don't want Mordred to worry, but I feel weird."
Agrona's eyes softened, "I spoke to the Elder about your visions. We agree that change is coming, and it is coming soon. The balance hasn't been restored yet, so that's why you feel that something's wrong."
"You mean the life traded for Prince Arthur's?"
"Yes."
"But why do I seem to be the only one to feel this?" Hermione asked.
"Because it seems the Old Religion has chosen you to become the next High Priestess."
Hermione, for once, didn't know what to say.
"What?" she squeaked.
"Usually, the High Priestess, or Priest, chooses the person who will become her successor. It is rare, but it does happen that Magic takes matters into its own hands and chooses who will be the next successor of the High Priestess. Yesterday you mentioned more than once that the Isle of the Blessed was calling you, and both the Elder and I believe that is what it means."
"But I'm not even supposed to be here," Hermione said.
"It seems that Destiny knew what it was doing when it sent you here," Agrona said, repeating the Elder's words from the night before, "nothing in this life is happenstance."
Hermione didn't quite know what to say to that. She was going to become the High Priestess? Why her? She wasn't religious. And what did it mean for her? Who was she praying to? She had never considered the question of a higher being controlling the world. What was she supposed to do now?
"What would it mean for me?" Hermione asked.
The healer shrugged, "I don't know. Every High Priestess I remember has been different. Some never married, but some did and had big magical families."
Hermione's eyes widened, "The sacred twenty-eight"
Agrona raised an eyebrow at her.
"Never mind. You were saying?"
"Most High Priests and Priestesses have generally looked after the preservation of magic. However, to some of them the ends justified the means and they used dark, dark rituals for the Samhain or Beltam ceremonies, or the Summer Equinox and Winter Solstice. It will depend on you how you commemorate our important festivities and what traditions you decide to honor."
Agrona then stood up and continued preparing the ingredients where Hermione left them off. She sensed that Hermione wanted some quiet to process this new information and she was right. Hermione let her hands go through the familiar motions as if in a trance while she tried to comprehend what this would mean for her.
What bothered her the most was that this was not her time. She was surprised that both the Elder and Agrona seemed to believe that it didn't matter because destiny had somehow chosen her, but the truth was that if she hadn't had the Time Turner on her, she would have probably died in the future and destiny be dammed. Then there was the Mordred issue. Wasn't it too much to ask already that she raise a boy to turn away from evil only to ask her to become the High Priestess? She was curious about who decided she would be good for this job, because she certainly didn't think so.
Her thoughts kept going in circles around the same vein and Hermione determined to keep herself busy the rest of the day by doing making more potions, practicing her spells and helping with the laundry. At supper she paid extra attention to what Mordred told her so as not to think, and at the end of the day she was so exhausted that she didn't even think about the issue before she fell asleep.
The next morning Hermione woke up to find she could barely breathe. Her skin was tingling with ambient magic, and she broke out in shivers and goosebumps. Her head was assaulted by vision of the Isle of the Blessed, the High Priestess and Merlin. There were new visions this time as well, of a woman covered in boils and shaking, clearly dying. The court physician of Camelot, Gaius her mind recalled, on the floor and seemingly dead. Hermione knew that magic's imbalance was reaching its peak, and that it would have dire consequences. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she was certain of that knowledge.
She staggered out of her tent and Mordred was the first to notice her. He rushed towards her and caught her when she stumbled, and his cry alerted a few people who crowded around her. She was barely aware of someone standing in front of her and yelling at them, before helping her walk towards a tent.
"What do you see, child?" a voice asked, and she couldn't for the life of her name the owner even though she recognized the voice.
"Magic... balance... Gaius... Merlin," Hermione said, as if unable to find her mouth and unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Mordred, go get Agrona," the voice then said and the name of the boy triggered another wave of visions. The Lady Morgana gasping for air. Merlin on top of her. Mordred as an adult kneeling in front of a deranged looking Lady Morgana. Her heart thumped.
"No... Mordred... Morgana," Hermione babbled, unsure who she was talking to.
Then, from the deepest part of her chest, her magical core, she felt a pull so strong she fell to the floor. She was uncertain of everything except that she needed to go to the Isle of the Blessed, and she needed to go now. She apparently spoke out loud because a voice asked her, "Go where, dear?"
Hermione couldn't answer as the pull became so strong, that the only thing she could do was apparate there.
She arrived with a pop that startled the two people doing battle against each other. One of them was Merlin, who tensed and stretched his hand towards her. His other hand was stretched towards a woman who Hermione instinctively knew to be the current High Priestess. She seemed puzzled.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Hermione herself was watching the events unfold from above, as if she was a bird flying above them. She saw herself answer, "Magic has chosen a new High Priestess. Nimue, you are no longer suitable to carry out that sacred role. You have been found guilty of altering the balance between life and death."
The High Priestess, Nimue, seemed to skeptical at first but then she caught Hermione's eyes glowing golden. And it wasn't just the irises which were glowing golden as when a sorcerer used magic, but the whole eye in a picture that would give Merlin nightmares for years to come. Then, her eyes widened and she paled.
"Everything I did, I did for the sake of magic," Numue said but her voice shook. Nimue then made two balls of fire appear in her hands. One she sent towards Merlin and the other towards Hermione. Because at the moment Hermione was possessed by a higher power, the ball of fire simmered before it reached her and disappeared. Merlin, too distracted to dodge, caught the ball of fire in the chest.
Nimue, thinking Merlin was out for the count, turned to Hermione ready to attack her with something more powerful. Merlin wasn't done yet, though, and he rose slowly. He stretched his hand out before him and let his magic out in the open. Black rain clouds that hadn't been there before gathered at his command and, looking towards the sky and back at Nimue, he called lightning to smite the High Priestess where she stood. The skies opened and it poured.
Nimue didn't even see it coming. She convulsed once, twice, three times, before she collapsed on the floor. She was dead before she hit the ground.
Hermione watched from her invisible perch how her body moved towards the dais, where a cup stood on top of an altar. She was then pulled back down into her body and she swayed, trying to reorient herself and get her bearings back. Merlin turned his outstretched hand towards her.
"Don't move," he warned.
"Or what?" she challenged, trying to look more put together than she felt. Her head was still spinning.
"Or I'll smite you where you stand," Merlin said.
Hermione couldn't help herself; she snorted. "You just saw magic itself possess my body. I don't think it will let you kill me."
Merlin's brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"
"Are you blind?" Hermione asked, already at the edge of her patient, "Or were you born stupid? Or perhaps Nimue hit you too hard on the head..."
"Then how do you explain that you arrived out of nowhere just as Nimue and I were about to fight," Merlin challenged.
"If you have an qualms about timing, take them up with magic," Hermione simply said, brushing him off, "I have been having visions for the last two days about this island. The Elder seems to think that magic chose me to be the next High Priestess and, while I had my doubts before, I don't think I have a choice now."
That said, Hermione walked up the dais and held the ancient looking chalice with both hands. It was engraved with symbols and words in a runic language she couldn't recognize, but it didn't even seem to be old English. She noticed that the rain water had filled the cup to the brim, and wondered what she had to do next.
Magic seemed to know, though, and Hermione felt it guiding her hands up above her head. Her irises flashed gold, and the words were pried out of her mouth.
"I, Hermione Jean Granger, henceforth accept the task of being the High Priestess of the Old Religion and the representative of Magic on Earth. I vow to safeguard magical creatures and to protect people with the gift of Magic and I will walk the path Destiny has set out for me forever more," she declared and drank all the contents of the chalice in one go.
Magic sang in her veins like it never had before. She gasped as her magical core expanded to make room for all the Magic pouring through her, and her vision swam. She fell to her knees in front of dais as she waited for the black spots in front of her eyes to disappear. When they cleared, she realized that Merlin was hovering right in the middle point between where she was and where he'd been standing. Their eyes locked.
"Are you okay?" Merlin finally asked.
"I'm okay... it was just... a lot," Hermione answered, and she noticed then someone's foot on the other side of the altar. She gasped, crawling around, too tired to even try to stand up.
"Don't touch him!" Merlin then yelled, his voice choked up. It was clear to her that the physician meant a lot to Merlin, so she turned to him. Again, she made sure to look him in the eye.
"I'll heal him," she said.
"He's dead," he replied.
"Let me check for a pulse then," Hermione countered, "if he's still alive, I can heal him."
Merlin wanted to refuse, but then he remembered the impressive feat of magic back in Ealdor when she put that woman's arm back together. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Hermione scooted closer to Gaius, and checked his neck for a pulse. She was relieved to find one, even if it was weak. She placed her hands on his chest and closed her eyes to feel for her magic. She focused on her intent, which was to heal Gaius. A flash of gold and the spell was flowing out of her mouth: Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!
Hermione felt the warmth but this time it was different. There was too much of it. Instead of being a warm fire, the fire threatened to burn her. She was burning. She screamed and passed out.
Hermione woke up in a cot feeling the way she imagined a rag felt after bring wrung. She could smell a fire, but it didn't feel like she was in the camp. No, it was warmer, and the sounds around her echoed as if she was indoors. That rang warning bells in her head because she was used to waking up to the fresh dewy air of the morning and the chirping birds. She opened her eyes and deduced Merlin must have brought her back to Camelot. She sat up and saw that, indeed, she was in the Court Physicians chambers. Gaius, the court physician, was moving around his workbench. Hermione cleared her throat and the man turned. He beamed at her, which caused her to be weary.
"Good morning," he chirped and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.
"Good morning," she said, wondering what to make of this man's mood.
"I don't know what you did in the Isle of the Blessed, but I feel twenty years younger," Gaius then said, moving to sit in a stool next to the cot, "my rheumatoid pains are gone, I can breathe more easily and I could even climb the stairs to the king's chambers without feeling like a ran a mile."
"You're welcome, I guess," Hermione said, a bit uncertainly. Just then the door banged open and in strode Merlin covered in filth. When he saw her awake, he closed the door and approached her with a frown. As he neared and the smell reached her, Hermione almost gagged.
"Feormian," she said after thinking of the scourgify spell and Merlin was clean.
It surprised him enough that he stopped his angry stomping, "How did you do that?"
Hermione made jazz hands, not that he would know what they are, and said, "Magic."
Gaius grinned, although he tried to hide it, and Merlin rolled his eyes.
"How did you know where to find us?"
Now Hermione rolled her eyes, "I told you already. I had visions of you in that place and Magic literally transported me there. Then it put the words in my mouth and voila! I'm the High Priestess."
Merlin frowned, "What's voila?"
"Never mind," Hermione said as if it wasn't a big deal, "if we're done here, I have to go back to my camp."
"Wait," Merlin exclaimed, a bit loudly, and then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "sorry. I just... I never thanked you for saving Gaius back there."
Hermione got whiplash, "What happened to your mistrust?"
"Oh, I still don't trust you, but you did save him and I'm not above being grateful," Merlin said. Hermione shrugged.
"It was the right thing to do."
"So what are you going to do now?" Merlin asked.
"What's it to you?" Hermione answered with a question.
Now, it was Merlin who shrugged, "The previous High Priestess tried to kill me and Arthur multiple times. I need to know if you're a threat."
"So that you can fry me like you did Nimue?" Hermione asked.
"So you did know her," Merlin countered.
"I didn't, but that's not the point, is it?"
"Are you going to attack Camelot?"
"How am I going to get it into your thick head that I'm not?"
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't trust my own shadow. So, are you?"
"No, Merlin, I will not. I don't have any plots to kill the king or the prince, for that matter. Oh, that reminds me, what do you know about the Druid prophecies?"
"Only that I'm Emrys? And that Arthur is the Once and Future King?"
"And you didn't think it was important to do a bit more research?" Hermione asked, feeling just as frustrated as when she tried to get Ron to do his own essays.
"I don't know if you've realized, but I am pretty busy," Merlin countered.
"You're busy because you are being reactive rather than proactive. I will try to bring you a book on the prophecies if I find it, but it is important you know this. Morgana is prophesied to kill King Arthur, and the prophecy concerning Mordred has changed," Hermione heard Gaius gasp and she turned on him, "whose fault do you think it is that Morgana is prophesied to turn evil?"
"That's precisely the reason why she shouldn't know," Gaius argued.
"That's just a recipe for disaster," Hermione countered, "her magic has been bottled up for, what, nineteen years? More? I had my first show of accidental magic when I was four, you do the math. Her magic is trying to keep her alive by hiding itself, but it will explode at the worst possible time at a moment of heightened emotions. You cannot suppress Magic if you're born with it, and you should have known better."
"I was trying to protect her," Gaius said.
"What you did will get her killed," Hermione exclaimed, "even worse, it might be exactly what turns her to the darkness. She is isolated, and when her Magic starts manifesting, she won't have anyone to turn to."
"But if she's prophesied to turn evil, then what can we do about it?" Merlin asked and Hermione wanted to bash her head against the wall.
"Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?" Merlin's blank look held the answer, "It is when you believe something will occur, and you do everything in your power to prevent it, but it ends up causing the thing you wanted to stop. For example, imagine an evil sorcerer who heard a prophecy that a baby born next month was going to kill him. What should the evil sorcerer do?"
"Well, the logical thing to would be to kill the baby while it's a baby, isn't it?" Gaius suggested.
"Wrong. Because when he goes to kill the baby, he didn't take into account that the mother had protective spells around him, and when the evil sorcerer attempted to kill the baby the curse rebounded and killed him instead," Hermione tried to explain what happened to Harry without actually having to share it as a personal experience.
"So if the evil wizard had ignored the prophecy..." Merlin started.
"It would have become void." Hermione finished.
"But how do you know the difference between them?" Gaius asked.
"You don't," Hermione said, "the best way to avoid a prophecy is by ignoring it. If it is meant to pass it will pass regardless of what you do or don't do, and if it has the qualities to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, by ignoring it, it will be nullified."
"Okay, I get that, but why do I have to know that?" Merlin asked, looking puzzled.
"Because, Merlin, knowledge is power. The more you know, the more you can protect yourself and those around you," Hermione answered.
"It sounds as if you speak from experience," Merlin noted.
Hermione's shoulders stiffened, "I do."
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed and then Hermione said, "Well, then... in that case..."
She was interrupted by the door banging open again.
"Merlin!" the prince bellowed, took in the scene in front of him, and pointed an accusing finger at Hermione, "It's you!"
Merlin, Godric, Rowena, please end her now, Hermione thought as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
Morgana didn't mean to eavesdrop, she really didn't, but she needed to ask Gaius for another draught for her nightmares and happened to have overhead Merlin and Gaius having a conversation with a woman. She would have just left it at that and walked away if she hadn't heard her name being mentioned.
"Whose fault do you think it is that Morgana is prophesied to turn evil?" the woman was saying, and Morgana realized that she recognized the voice. It belonged to Hermione, the girl from the woods who turned out to be a druid. Why was she here? More importantly, what did she say about a prophecy concerning her?
"That's precisely the reason why she shouldn't know," Gaius then said, and Morgana felt the sharp pang of betrayal pierce her chest. She'd come to Gaius before with her suspicions but he'd always turned her away with more tonics for her nightmares.
"That's just a recipe for disaster," Hermione countered, and it took Morgana a second to realize that Hermione was scolding Gaius. On her behalf.
"Her magic has been bottled up for, what, nineteen years? More? I had my first show of accidental magic when I was four, you do the math. Her magic is trying to keep her alive by hiding itself, but it will explode at the worst possible time at a moment of heightened emotions. You cannot suppress Magic if you're born with it, and you should have known better."
Morgana wished to know more, but footsteps down the corridor alerted her to someone approaching and she didn't to be caught here. She rushed back to her chambers and locked herself in. She checked the servant's quarters to make sure Gwen wasn't there, and much to her relief, she wasn't. She then closed the curtains and sat down in front of her vanity.
I have magic, she thought, and she waited for that thought to sink in. She should have been afraid, a part of her recognized, and she couldn't deny that part of her was. What if Uther caught her? She was his ward, surely he wouldn't burn her, would he? She realized that she couldn't say with certainty that he wouldn't, and it made her angry.
She saw her eyes glow gold in her reflection in the mirror and a bottle of perfume, which Uther had given her, exploded. Hermione said that her magic would come out in moments of heightened emotion, and now she knew what that meant. She would need to be careful not to be too emotive in public, then.
What she really needed, though, were answers. She had to talk to Hermione; she could help her. And she was a druid, so they were peaceful and wouldn't hurt her.
As Morgana stared at her reflection in the mirror she found herself smiling. She had magic. It was a death sentence in Camelot, but at least she knew for certain that she wasn't going crazy. That was a start.
Prince Arthur was confused, but he would never say that out loud. He could not even admit it to himself. Ever since he met Hermione, the laws by which he thought the world operated had been turned on their heads and Arthur didn't want to admit that he, or his father, could have been wrong. Just the possibility that the Great Purge had been a mass murder condoned by the royal family was enough to make Arthur feel sick, so he just didn't think about it.
Now, however, as he stood facing the very woman who made him question everything he thought he knew, all of his confusion came back and threatened to overwhelm him. Therefore, he got angry.
Gaius approached him with placating hands, "Sire, allow me to explain…"
Arthur yelled, "What is there to explain? She is a sorceress, and she…"
"She saved your life," Merlin then said, and Arthur could only stare slack jawed at his manservant. Gaius continued.
"The Questing Beast's is a magical injury that can only be healed through magical means. You can understand why I kept it a secret from your father, sire."
No, no, no... if that was true, then Hermione's count of times magic saved his life would go up to three and his vision of the world would be further upended. So of course, the most logical question he could think to ask was, "But what does she have to do with anything?"
"I'm the High Priestess of the Old Religion," Hermione answered and Arthur turned to glare at her, "I provided Merlin with the means to save you. I just came to see if it had worked, and it looks like it did."
Arthur felt his anger rise and he glared at Gaius, "What you did amounts to treason, Gaius."
"Let me explain something to you, your highness," Hermione interjected and took a step towards Arthur. Arthur would deny to the day he died that he backed away from a girl, even if she was a sorceress.
Hermione continued, unfazed, "An injury made by Magic can only be cured by Magic."
The woman then proceeded to lift her sleeve, showing Arthur, Gaius and Merlin, the bandage in her arm. She proceeded to peel it off slowly and showed them a recent-looking wound that was just closing. Arthur heard Gaius gasped and turned a puzzled look on him.
"I see you recognize this," Hermione said, directed at Gaius, before turning her attention back to the him, "I received this wound with a cursed blade six months ago, your highness. Magical healing only exacerbates the wound, so non-magical healing methods are the only way in which this will heal. And you see that it still isn't healed, even after half a year."
Arthur couldn't help but feel a bit vindicated, and he let it show, "Aha! Magic is evil, I knew it!"
"Did you pay attention to anything I just said?" Hermione asked, her eyes tight, "Magic is something you're born with, like the color of your eyes. It's not something you can one day decide to say, 'oh, well, it's been fun. I'll stop now', because that's not how it works."
Arthur felt himself deflate a bit as what Hermione said gradually sank in.
"That's not true," Arthur said, but even to his ears it sounded weak.
"Oh, so now the muggle is going to teach me how magic works? I'm a witch. I first used Magic when I was four years old to reach a toy. Are you going to burn four year old children at the stake, your highness?"
Arthur felt light headed, almost as if he had turned around too many times and couldn't tell which side was up. What she said had to be a lie, that was the only explanation. Sorcerers were evil, magic was evil, and she was trying to weaken him by making him question a very basic set of rules.
But if that were true, why hadn't she attacked him yet?
He bearly heard her when Hermione spoke again.
"If that's all, I'll take my leave then. It was good to see you're alive and well, your highness," Hermione said, turned on her heel, and just like that, she was gone.
Arthur was brought out of his confusion by the way she made his title, a title he was proud of, sound mocking and condescending. What did she know anyway? She was a sorceress, and they couldn't be trusted. He would just put this conversation and every other encounter they'd had up until this moment out of his mind. Of course, that's when Merlin started to talk.
"What just happened?" Merlin asked, turning around as if Hermione would suddenly appear behind him.
"She's gone," Arthur ground out through clenched teeth, "again."
Gaius replied, "Well, of course sire, you were not expecting a sorceress to remain in Camelot, were you?"
Arthur wasn't sure what made his anger boil over; the fact that Hermione was a sorceress, that she'd been in Camelot and she wasn't in the dungeons, or the flippant tone with which Gaius just said so. As if there were no consequences. As if the law was nothing but a cleaning rag to be discarded. He turned to Gaius, his fists shaking with rage.
"You should be hanged for this! Conniving with a sorceress... of all the things... "
Gaius just straightened his back, jutted out his chin, and said, "Just two days ago I went to the Isle of the Blessed willing to die to save your life, Arthur. If you must go to the king because that's your duty, I will walk to my execution with my head held high because I did mine."
That only served to aggravate Arthur further. Since when did Gaius become so defiant? He was his father's most trusted adviser, for goodness sake! Arthur trusted him! How could Gaius not see what the problem was?
"It's magic!" Arthur bellowed, feeling as if the world had gone crazy. Nothing made sense anymore.
"It saved your life, Arthur," Merlin said, his eyes wide and fearful, and Arthur turned to stare at him.
"What would you know about it? You're a peasant. You didn't even grow up in this kingdom," Arthur said, pointing an angry finger at Merlin. Merlin flushed and his eyes hardened. His mouth opened to say something but Gaius was faster.
"Sire, think about this through logic," Gaius said, "can you do that?"
Arthur could, but he didn't want to. Clearly, it was a rhetoric question though, because Gaius just carried on talking.
"People born with magic do exist. Are they born evil?"
Arthur closed his eyes, fighting an incoming headache, "People can't be born with magic, Gaius, don't be ridiculous."
"Where did you learn that information?" Merlin asked.
"My father hired the best tutors for me, Merlin," Arthur replied.
"Yes, Arthur, but you must remember that it was your father who started the Great Purge."
"What are you trying to say, Gaius?" Arthur asked, furrowing his brow.
"Everything he taught you is tinted by his past decisions. He could never teach you that sorcery is anything other than evil if he was also going to teach about the Great Purge."
"The Great Purge saved this country," Arthur argued.
"From who?" Gaius pressed, "If you go to the archives, you'll see that we had more crops, cleaner water, and the weather was less unpredictable before the Great Purge."
"You're talking treason, Gaius," Arthur said, avoiding the topic, "are you bewitched?"
"I can assure you, sire, that I am in control of my own mind," Gaius said.
"My father would never lie to me on this," Arthur said, intending to sound convincing but it came out more like a plead, "he wouldn't."
Gaius pursed his lips and stayed silent, seeing that Prince Arthur was overwhelmed. Merlin, too, for once, didn't say anything. Arthur almost wanted him to say something, if only to break the tension that could be cut with a knife.
Deciding he couldn't bear to be in their presence any longer, Arthur stormed out.
Merlin looked after him in dismay.
"Give him time," Gaius said, "we just told him everything he believes in is a lie. We also made strong accusations against the king."
A chill ran down Merlin's spine, "Do you think he'll have us killed?"
"Arthur isn't Uther. He wouldn't go to the king without proof we've done magic. Be careful not to give him any," Gaius warned.
Merlin scoffed, "He wouldn't see it if I made myself fly in his room. Did you hear what he said to me?"
"He doesn't know what you can do, my boy," Gaius patted Merlin on the back.
"Will I ever be able to tell him?" Merlin asked then.
"Perhaps, but not too soon I, I fear," Gaius answered, "now I need you to run some errands for me."
Merlin rolled his eyes and went to help Gaius.
Hermione apparated in the Druid camp with a pop and that had people turning their heads to look at the disturbance. When they realized that it was her, there was an uproar.
"She's back!" people yelled, and as Hermione walked further into the camp, everyone came to greet her. They looked relieved, for the most part, but also curious. Aida rushed towards and hugged her tight, and Hermione was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes.
"We were so worried," she explained, trying to wipe them away, "where were you?"
"It's a very long story," Hermione answered, trying to convey with her eyes that it was a conversation to have in private.
Just then, a human arrow parted the crowd and ran towards her, wrapping his arms around her middle and holding onto her like life itself depended on it. Mordred sobbed into her stomach, and Hermione felt guilt pierce her heart.
She leaned forward to bring her mouth close to his ear.
"I'm okay, Mordred," she whispered, "I'm here. I'm sorry I worried you."
Mordred only sobbed harder, inconsolable. He refused to let go of her and she had to take them both to her tent, where they lied down next to each other.
"I thought you were never going to come back," he said through his tears.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that," Hermione replied.
"I was so scared. And then you didn't come back for two days," Mordred continued.
"That long?"
"You didn't know?"
"I lost track of time, I guess," Hermione tried to excuse herself, but Mordred narrowed her eyes at her and she gave in, "I was unconscious for a good part of those two days, which is why I didn't come in sooner."
Mordred's eyes filled with concern, and of course, more tears, "What happened? Where did you go?"
"I went to the Isle of the Blessed," Hermione explained, "Mer-Emrys defeated the High Priestess and magic wanted me to take her place."
"Magic?" his eyes were wide.
"Yes. It showed me where it was and what was happening. That's why I had to go so abruptly," Hermione held Mordred tight, "it called me."
"But why were you unconscious?"
"I guess I overexerted my magic a bit," Hermione said.
"And you stayed all this time, unconscious, on the Isle of the Blessed?" Mordred asked, clearly upset.
"No, Emrys took me to Camelot. He took care of me," Hermione answered.
"But what if the king had caught you? You could have died!" Mordred exclaimed and Hermione saw for the first time anger simmering in those blue eyes.
"But I didn't," Hermione replied.
"But what if they hadn't waited for you to wake up? You would have died and we wouldn't have known," Mordred said, prying himself from her and standing up to pace, "you can't just rush into danger like that. So many things could have gone wrong. What would happen to me if you died?"
Hermione sat up and really looked at Mordred for the first time since she arrived. His hair was mused at impossible angles and and he had deep, dark bags under his eyes. He was glaring at her, but beneath the anger, she could see the deep seated fear that one day Hermione wouldn't come back and that he would be all alone. Suddenly, Hermione understood why Mrs. Weasly wasn't a field agent for the Order.
"I promise I will be more careful in the future," Hermione said, but Mordred only glared harder.
"Well, you clearly can't look after yourself, so you leave me no choice. I will protect you. I won't let you out of my sight," Mordred declared.
Hermione thought it was a promise made in the heat of the moment which would soon be forgotten as soon as Mordred calmed down. However, for Modred it equated to a vow. He would become Hermione's champion, and he would protect her from everyone who wanted to harm her. He would even protect her from herself. But he needed to finish his training so that he could fulfill this promise. Mordred vowed to never again sit idle while the people he loved die.
This chapter takes place at the end of season 1. It is uncertain how much time passes between Season 1 and 2, but I will assume that at least three months have passed. I will also explore the aftermath of the Questing Beast's bite. As I've read a lot on Arthurian lore lately, don't be surprised if I start adding part of the original myths to this story, like Lacelot's background for example.
Until we meet again,
Medieval Scribe