Enchantments

"The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything."
-Albert Einstein

Guiomer woke up with the innate feeling that something was very wrong. It wasn't the tingling dread that went over him when his mother was bitten by a wolf in defense of his aunt. Neither was it the deep-rooted feeling of fear when his mother vanished while Rohan.

It was something else, something new and something probably worse. He also had the responsibility to find out what it was.

A quick glance at the window showed darkness, with only hints of moonlight. Cailyn's deep and rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room, calming down his slight panic.

A deep breath and then he casted a Patronus that took the shape of a stag to keep his wife company while he was away. Then he strode into his sons nursery and found Aedan wide awake, breathing harsh and panicked.

"Shh!" he whispered to the child. Aedan snuggled into his warmth, heartbeat trying to match his. Guiomer kissed him on the forehead and strode back into the bedroom, placing the baby with his sleeping wife. Aedan's green eyes, the exact same shade as his own, were wide with apprehension. It made him feel a bit helpless because that was something his son shouldn't feel while he was still alive. At least, not at that age.

"Watch over them, avus," he whispered to the stag.

He silently apparated to his family's home, and froze upon finding himself to be the receiving end of three wands.

"Whoa!" he cried out. "The peace of the Valar!"

His aunts and uncles all dropped their wands with various sighs and groans.

"Guiomer, sweetheart," Hermione sighed. "So you feel it too?"

Guiomer nodded. "Yes. Even Aedan isn't sleeping."

They all exchanged glances of alarm. Draco grumbled something about a 'Potter Curse'.

"It hasn't touched the wards yet," Luna murmured. "Circling and watching. It's malice is so great that we feel it even here."

"Well, we bloody well can't allow it to keep circling!" Hermione exclaimed, startling all of them. Hermione really didn't allow herself to curse often. It was practically an unsaid rule.

A muscle was jumping in Draco's jaw. "We don't even know what we're dealing with. if we overreach ourselves, then it won't end well. And if we cast spells at it, then they will know we can do magic," he growled out.

Guiomer chewed that for a moment and then he understood what his uncle meant. If they used magic, their advantage would be lost. But... "You can't leave whatever it is out there," he said reasonably. "It isn't healthy. They probably can't feel it now, but it eventually will hurt the people."

They went quiet and Guiomer could practically feel their minds working furiously fast. He thought of Aedan, trembling in his arms and his hands clenched convulsively. His hands were wrapped around the hilt of the sword of Gryffindor and his mind cleared.

He could remember, as clear as if it were an hour ago, his mother setting him down in his room and telling him the secrets of the gaudy weapon.

"It's not just a sword," she had told him solemnly. "It's your only friend in the battlefield. If you need speed, it gives you speed. If you lack strength, it becomes sharper. So long as you place your faith in it, this weapon will never break and never falter."

His heart had thudded erratically and he understood what she meant when he touched the rubies and felt the calm and serenity that washed over him, the certainty that he could do anything as long as the sword was with him.

That certainty hit him again and he started stripping his dragonhide gloves. The act caught their attention and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Guiomer, love, are you sure?" she asked.

He shot her a look. "Mater isn't here and we need to know what were dealing with. Just a request? Don't think of anything. It'll muddle up what I see and I'm not yet as good as Mater in sorting things out," he said.

He closed his eyes and remembered Aedan, eyes large in his face, a gentle "Pater" coming from his mouth in a high, lilting voice. He remembered Cailyn, her face gentle and relaxed in sleep and eyes smoky and coy with laughter. His resolve strengthened and he opened his gift to the possibilities.

Guiomer's gift wasn't as strong as his mothers, but it was strong enough. The weakness of it made it easier to manage because he could control when he would use it, unlike his mother. Like his mother, however, he had no control over what he saw. The elves' help only went as far as self-control was needed. In the other aspects, they were as helpless as anybody. Lord Elronds gift didn't even touch on how powerful theirs were.

As the images flooded his mind, he had to hold back a groan of pain. The images were disjointed and broken. It was fast and difficult as anything to read. And then it settled into what he wanted and he released a sigh.

"It's alone," he said, voice rough with pain. "It's just looking for something to feed on. If we attack it – " he winced at the brutality of the images – "It can't be with magic. It must be with weapons."

"It absorbs them?" Hermione asked.

Luna handed Guiomer a wet towel to press to his heated forehead. The coolness eased the pounding headache he had in his brain for a moment. The relief went away when he used his gift to answer his question.

"It absorbs emotions," he said flatly. "It incites despair and weakness of the soul. Spells are extensions of the wizard. Of course it will have a bit of our emotions."

That removed the thought of using patroni. The three of them devolved into a very fast whispered argument while Guiomer tried not to move his head too much. It felt like he head a concussion and a hangover at the same time. He wondered how his mother did it so frequently and so easily.

Guiomer eventually abandoned the wet towel to stare at the three of them and felt a bit off-balance. That was the effect of the missing piece. Each of them were capable and intimidating individuals in their own right but together, they were great. With Heather lacking, they still functioned well but not as well as could be.

"An enchanted thing!" Hermione's voice rose among all of the others. It triggered another vision and Guiomer suppressed a groan of pain as his migraine redoubled with another onslaught of visions.

"It'll work," he piped up, moderating his voice above a whisper even if it made him want to keel over. "Best to do it quick, that creature is getting restless. I don't want to get another vision of what will happen when it touches the wards."

That spurred them into action.

The four of them apparated to different points of the city.

For Draco, he arrived at the Statue of the Dancing Nymph that was modelled after his own mother. Quickly, he raised his wand (and didn't it feel brilliant to hold a wand again, no matter how proficient he got at using wandless magic) and did the incantation that Hermione had slapped into his open palm.

A quick incantation, a neat twitch of his wand and the Nymph lowered her foot that had been raised mid-movement. The stone did not grate, or break. It looked like she was a stone statue brought to life – except that she had no emotions or soul, which was why she would be perfect to fight a soul-sucking creature.

The enchantment worked perfectly for something that was the result of thirty minutes of Arithmetic calculation and Runic configuration.

The nymph was still there, standing and looking at him patiently. Waiting for orders. Well, he would oblige her.

"There is a creature outside the city that seeks to harm the people. Your order – your mandate is to protect the citizens and the people of this city for as long as this enchantment stands," Draco said. His voice was steady and strong.

The statue moved to leap away when a thought occurred to him. He stopped her movements with a hand and then created a staff with flowers on it. It was a temporary weapon that would disintegrate afterwards until he could find an appropriate weapon for the nymph.

She gave an experimental twirl of the staff and then leapt away, leaving no mark on the cobblestones despite how heavy she must have been. Truly a work of art, though he wouldn't tell Granger that because she would get so unbearably smug about it for months.

For Luna, she came to the statue of Fenny and gave an experimental twirl with the wand she had not held since the construction of the city. In response, the statue reacted like it was waiting for it. And then it peered down at her curiously, much like how the real Fenny would when Luna went to take him for a walk.

"Hello, Fenny," Luna whispered with fondness. In the darkness of the square, her whisper was loud and commanding. It made the statue cock its head adorably to the side. "Your orders are to protect the people and this city to the best of your ability. You will always stand guard and you will always watch."

Fenny the statue bowed one more time and then raced away, mouth open and filled with sharp fangs.

Hermione's statue was the Rearing horse, her symbol for freedom of oppression and nobility of spirit. With an expert flick, the enchantment settled and the horse settled own, blinking stony eyes at her and flicking its ears and tail. If it was capable of making a sound, it would have nickered at her.

"Your directive," Hermione ordered. "Is to trample to dust those that threaten the peace of this city. You will protect it for the rest of eternity."

The horse reared one more time and then it took off to the direction of the malice. Hermione sighed at its speed and perfection, and then smacked herself for being a sentimental idiot.

Guiomer's statue was the farthest from their modest home. It was the statue of the Mighty wizard, large knotted staff held by young hands that were raised to cast a spell. His clothes were foreign and flowing, hat tilted to obscure his young face.

Guiomer knew that it was modelled after a man his mother respected very much and a good friend of his uncle. His name was Blaise Zabini and he had been one of the first casualties of the war. In his childish fantasies, he'd imagine this man as his father because he hadn't understood the difference between admiration and love.

The holly wand that had belonged to his mother was warm in his hands as he casted the enchantment.

And then he blinked in surprise.

He knew that the spell was supposed to bring to life the statues but he hadn't expected the wizard to yawn widely and then use the impressive staff as a back scratcher. It was so lifelike that it was unnerving.

Guiomer cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he said with a bit of incredulity.

The statue stopped stretching and easing non-existent back pains and turned to look at Guiomer as though he had just noticed him. For a moment, the statue looked embarrassed and then he stood at attention, looking like a soldier and nothing at all like a statue that just woke up.

"There's an enemy waiting outside," he ordered softly. "Its continued existence is harmful to the citizens, so please deal with it. The very reason for your creation was guidance to the people. I will now add another order: You will always protect this city."

The wizard swept off its pointed hat from its head and raised it slightly. It showed the statues' exotically shaped eyes that blinked its understanding. And then it strode off purposefully, its strides long and quick.

They all met up at the highest point in the walls, wearing one of the glasses that Hermione had invented to increase eyesight and enabled seeing in the dark.

The creature did look eerily like a dementor, but it didn't move in that slow, gliding steps that the dementors were fabled for. It moved quickly when the nymph brought down its flowery staff and parried the expert movements of the wizard. The hooves of the horse caused a spark in the grass and the creature recoiled.

Hermione was quick to catch that, her eyes sharp and bright.

"Fire!" she breathed. "Of course! Fire purifies everything it touches. Something that angry will fear purity."

Draco looked impressed. "Damn!" he muttered. "Makes me wish I pestered my father to buy me a phoenix instead of those Abraxan horses when I was younger."

He gave a yelp when Luna hit him on the head.

Hermione ignored both of them and turned to Guiomer. "How good are you with arrows?" she asked.

Guiomer, whose headache had receded when he put on his dragonhide gloves, nearly chuckled. "Average, but I can hit what I want eight times out of ten," he said.

She nodded and conjured him a bow and several arrows. The tips were special and wrapped in several flammable ingredients. "Aim for the creature, I'll do the rest," she said.

Briefly, Guiomer allowed himself to feel overwhelmingly grateful that his mother wasn't in Haven because she really was terrible with bow and arrows. There was even a rumour that the elves themselves gave up on teaching her how to aim.

Then he took a breath and stretched. The arrow released into the air and Hermione set fire to it mid-arc. He took a moment to marvel at her spell accuracy and then he released the breath he had been holding when it hit the creature, who let out a high shriek.

The four of them didn't cheer when the creature finally fled, but they gave sighs of heartfelt relief.

"If I don't see that thing in this lifetime," Luna murmured as they tracked the progress of the statues as they returned to their pedestals. "It would be too soon."

Surprisingly, Draco snickered. "Which lifetime? You won't exactly get old."

Both of them started arguing and Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really are twins," she said. "Lucky we told Faramir to spend time with his brother for a week because I don't think I can do much teaching."

Nobody heard because Guiomer had already apparated back to his house and Luna and Draco were still arguing.

"Heather," Hermione sighed, feeling completely lonely all of a sudden. "Come home soon."

The effects of the malice showed when the people moved in a sluggish, sleepy manner. They recovered by noon but it still worried Hermione so much that she didn't even open the letter that came from Elladan, delivered by a very cranky Maethor. She shared her theories to those who attended their luncheon, who usually only involved the twins since Meiran and Felicia preferred to eat in their respective departments to save time.

To their utter surprise, Phobos brought up the matter first before anybody could say anything.

"What in Varda's name is going on?" he demanded. "I've had people coming in the hospital in droves, asking for check-ups because they're suddenly so tired. I know you've had something to do with that because you lot look an inch from sleeping on your chairs."

That passionate speech was something no one would have expected from Phobos nearly a year ago. But the Terrible Two had improved and strived to change themselves ever since Heather had returned with a wolf chewing her shoulder and Luna half-catatonic. Most citizens that were admitted into the hospital actually sought to talk to them at least once before being discharged instead of leaving before being examined by either of them. It was a brilliant and amazing change.

What made them all so proud, however, was the concern and protectiveness they could hear in his voice. It was a far cry from his old, emotionless apathy.

Hermione beamed at him. "Phobos, really! That's actually a bit of good news. It's good that the people are conscious of their health, enough that they voluntarily go to the hospital."

Deimos scowl could put Draco's to shame. "Don't do another one of your misdirecting things. If it's one of those secret things you have, say so," he said.

Luna gave a tinkling laugh. "He's got you caught, 'Mione!" she said. "And you can tell them. They have a right to know."

Looking rather aggrieved (though everyone knew she was just annoyed that everybody really knew how to deal with her misdirection's), Hermione told them the events form last night in a clinical and detached manner. Guiomer kept chiming in so as to dumb down the technical aspect of it.

"So basically," Deimos interrupted rudely. He may have been improving himself from being a surly bastard, but Deimos still held the title of a first class bastard to his friends. He was actually nice to the citizens and people he didn't know. "Basically, the city was under attack last night and no one noticed except you sensitive sort. And now, everyone is depressed and lazy from it."

They all gave various methods of assent and agreement.

The twins sighed in unison. "Brilliant really, the lot of you," Phobos said. "But slower than ants sometimes," Deimos continued.

"Why?" Cailyn had to ask because Guiomer was too busy smothering his laughter at the affront on Hermione's face and the twin looks of confusion on Luna's and Draco's faces.

"Plan a party," Phobos said, looking very put-upon. "To raise their spirits. I sure as hell do not wish to write to Lady Gryffon the rising statistics rate for suicide."

"We just recently managed to turn it to zero, after all," Deimos added helpfully.

It was actually a very good idea and the rest of the luncheon was spent planning it. Draco was actually impatient enough to send for several orphans, making Hermione very annoyed.

"What?" Draco asked defensively when Hermione shot him a harassed and irritated look. "This way, it'll go faster."

Parchment and ink were soon going everywhere and the orphaned children were kept busy running errands. Cailyn and Luna were watching this with wide eyes, having been pushed to the side when everybody started planning.

"This is going to be the best party in Arda," Luna commented. "Or the greatest disaster. It's Draco's impatience against how anal Hermione can get."

Cailyn agreed wholeheartedly as she watched Hermione's hair get curlier and curlier with her frustration and haste.

The party was a success. Really, Cailyn had to wonder how much of it was a miracle and which of it was good luck. The rest of it, she knew, was really plain coincidence.

What made it even better was that midway through the dancing, Lady Gryffon showed up. She was a little too pale and a little too thin but she took one look at the events and laughed. And suddenly, Haven felt better and brighter.

Nobody could explain, however, how the party came to be named the Festival of Innocence and Purity and how it became a National holiday.

DELETED SCENES: (Finally settled with that)

A moment with Prince Theodred

Theodred watched the maps laid in front of him and scowled. The Dunlendings that were assigned to follow him watched with caution as his irritation became real temper.

"These attacks have a pattern," he muttered. "And that's not good."

The Dunlendings were good with tactics but were terrible with strategy. As one, they gave him looks of confusion.

"It means that someone is testing the defences of Rohan. Someone is leading these orcs," he explained.

The enlightenment on their faces provided brief amusement, before he started going over his options. If it came to the worst of it, then he will have to ask for assistance from Lady Gryffon. For now, he will warn Haven regarding the person controlling the orcs.

I hate being a student. That's it, don't expect me to update on weekends...though I will try to make sure that I will update at least once a week. RL sucks...though not literally.

My brain juice is running dry. Need help, so suggestions are very welcome. I really do know how things go, the stuff that goes in-between is just greatest challenge. Worst things that'll happen, I might do another time-skip.

No significant questions. Please R&R.

~Hallen

P.S. Avus means grandfather in Latin