Chapter
Sixteen : Avalon
She squints her dark eyes against the brightness of the fluorescent infirmary lights, and takes a deep breath before she tries to sit up in the firm bed, but finds herself unable to move. Her back hurts, that's the first thing she notices, and secondly is the burning sensation in her lower abdomen. She remembers that after she gave that last push, she had fainted. Either that, or the medicine that Madam Greingrass had given her to subdue the pain had put her to sleep shortly afterwards.
Her thoughts are floating around her mind like puzzle pieces that need to be connected to one another. She relaxes, and her eyes drift closed once more.
One piece of that puzzle has Lucius painted upon the cardboard, and Marie can't remember if he was present during the delivery. On an afterthought, she considers that he probably was. After all, the birth of his son is something that he wouldn't want to miss; it's what he's been looking forward to since Marie had told him of the child growing inside of her.
Another piece of the jigsaw that floats to her mind's eye has Draco sketched upon it. Silver hair and green Quidditch robes, he has the Golden Snitch, but his hands are decomposed. Leathery and rotting, she mentally watches as Draco turns to bone, and then to dust in her mind.
One night shortly after the fateful Quidditch game, Marie remembers that Lucius had told her that his son would never learn to fly. Would never play Quidditch. Not as Draco did.
Lucius has forbidden his unborn son to do many of the "dangerous activities" that Draco took part in and loved. The child will never touch a broomstick, and he will never travel down to the camps. There will be women who will wait on him, and house elves that will serve him. Now, he is Lucius's only son, and should be treated as such. Marie knows better than to argue with this. If it were her son who was killed, she believes she would be acting in a similar fashion.
Marie's first-born son was born one month premature. Many had worried that the child would be stillborn, but thankfully, that wasn't the case. He was born healthy, weighing six pounds and three ounces, and with a full head of hair contrasting white snow. His eyes were a piercing red colour, and black lines outlined them as eyeliner. They were a shade of red that was as dark and beautiful as newly spilt blood.
She can imagine that word will spread quickly among the Death Eaters about the "demon child" who would follow in his father's footsteps. Tonight, many toasts will be performed in the Death Eater castles and housings around Britain, and they'll all cheer the good name of Fyre Malfoy.
* * *
"How. could you send Sirius to Romania knowing perfectly well that you sent Karkaroff, Fleur, and myself there for the same reasons?" Severus bursts through the doors of the Delacour Library where the leader of the Last Alliance sits with a collection of books and parchment before him. The travellers four had just returned minutes before using a portkey that Sirius had set up. With them, they brought Merlin's Book of Shadows, and that's what Severus has in his hands, as well as his angry words on the tip of his tongue.
The commanding wizard looks up from his papers and drops his eagle quill. "What?" He furrows his eyebrows and stares at Severus with wide and confused azure eyes. He leans forward, clasping his hands together, and rests his elbows on the table. The robes he wears are grey polyester, same issue as the ones Severus changed into upon his return.
"You sent Sirius to Romania to recruit the help of the giants!" Severus growls lowly, throwing the heavy magick journal onto the table. It lands with a loud thud and the settling of dust.
A chuckle comes from the wizard before Severus as he picks up the journal and studies it. "I only sent Sirius to retrieve this book. I never told him anything about recruiting the giant's help. I knew that was your mission, I wouldn't disrespect you by giving it to someone else, Snape." He doesn't look at Severus as he speaks; instead, he taps three times on the book with his long wand. A golden spark flies from the wand, but nothing of relevance happens. He slouches his shoulders and pouts in mock frustration.
Severus doesn't say anything, realising angrily that Sirius purposely played him for his own selfish amusement. Just like Sirius, Severus considers as he shakes his head. Grumbling a few words about killing Sirius and burying the pieces around Marseilles, Severus stiffly turns to leave with his fists clenched at his side, ready to maim Sirius.
"Don't kill him, Snape." The voice comes amused.
"Why not?"
"Because," is only the reply the blue-eyed wizard gives, but he then decides that that probably isn't good enough for Severus to halt his actions. "We just may need his help in opening this book." He turns Merlin's journal over, running his middle finger along the engraved stars, moons and pentacles. There's a phrase also engraved around the outer edge of the leather, but the letters are not of the English language. In fact, he doesn't know of a language that those symbols belong to, and he himself is a talented linguist. A concerned "Hmmm . . ." comes from the commander as he realises that he just read the passage, when, obviously, he isn't supposed to be able to. "Did you notice--"
"What about Fleur or the other one?" Severus cuts off, not realising that the wizard is speaking.
The interruption doesn't matter to him; he can always get back to the passage later when he and Severus aren't having this discussion, which they've had a lot lately. " 'The other one' is resting. You should know that. And, Fleur requested some time to spend with Gabrielle, so I granted her a few days of R&R, effective once she returned from Romania."
"And you did this without consulting the rest of us?"
"There's nothing of importance happening. I saw no need to consult you and the others."
Severus sneers inwardly.
"Now, since we are on the subject of Romania and your travels, what did you hear from the good mystic?" He sets the Book of Shadows aside, mentally reminding himself to bring it up later. He is, after all, eager to hear what Severus, Fleur, and Karkaroff uncovered while they were away for these past few months.
Severus shrugs and gives the short version. "Peru-san spoke in riddles, but that should have been expected. The heir of Hufflepuff is what she was most helpful with. She described Gilderoy Lockhart perfectly. The heir of Ravenclaw, as the heir of Hufflepuff, was not sorted into his blood house, and he just may be a Death Eater."
An annoyed scowl comes from the commanding wizard as he remembers back to his second year at Hogwarts. Lockhart was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, taking after Quirrell. Such dreadful times his second year was, he doesn't really want to deal with that incompetent git Lockhart again. Unlike Lockhart though, he liked Quirrell. A different fellow, strange karma surrounded him. He also liked that Flitwick fellow, an eccentric old busy-body he was, and the head of Ravenclaw.
"If we are done with that business now, Snape, I believe I just may have noticed something that you'll want to see . . ." He leans for the book and passes it to Severus, his grey robes chafing against the pile of parchments, causing some to glide elegantly to the stone marble floor. "Can you read that passage?"
Severus reaches for the book and, raising an eyebrow, responds flatly that he cannot understand it. "How could anyone?" he adds. "It's in an ancient language of magick that has been lost to witches and wizards for thousands of years. I myself have studied it, but the knowledge surrounding it is very limited. No wizard alive can understand it, even if they studied it all their life."
The superior nods, "Yes, of course. Get Sirius in here now, please."
Severus raises his lip in suspicion, but doesn't ask questions. Spinning on his heels, he leaves with the skirts of his robes billowing behind him and footsteps sounding though the library. A few minutes later as the other wizard merely sat still and inspected the closed book, Severus returns with Sirius, who is adjusting the grey robes that he has just changed into.
"What's the problem, mate?" Sirius asks casually, cracking each of his knuckles separately before moving onto his neck, all the while keeping his violet eyes--a colour that has never been seen in any other human besides his mother, grandfather, and great grandfather--locked on the wizard who sits at the table.
"This book," is the response. "Can you read that passage?"
"No." Sirius shrugs, giving the book a moment's glance. "I can't imagine that anyone could."
"Really? Because I can."
"So what does it say?" Severus demands in an impatient tone, not grasping what that means immediately. Crossing his arms, he side steps away from Sirius who makes a move to punch him playfully on the arm.
" 'The power is my power, it is as energy. It hasn't decreased or increased, and you cannot make it. The one who controls it is the descendant of the heir. Excalibur's power shall be theirs to wield, and theirs alone. Avalon calls out to you from the five corners of the earth. Where must you find it to access the power of your birthright?' " A pause of mysterious realisation before, "It's a riddle. A protection device so only the true heir of Merlin can open this artefact. But this makes no sense. To find the power you must know where Avalon is, but it's as air. It goes where the wind blows it." And he suddenly realised what this means--he is one of the heirs that they've been seeking. He understands the passage, he knows where Avalon floats when it's a myth, and the book responds to him answering the riddle.
With those words spoken, a bright white light starts to glow from the centre star of the book. It starts out dim and gradually grows brighter, and all they do is watch, mesmerised. The book flips opens with a loud, shrill scream that resembles a battle cry, shaking the bookshelves and rattling the windows. Unknown winds flip the off-white pages of the book until it's open in the centre, where the ancient language appears magically. It's written with light, and turns black as it spells out another phrase:
" 'The world you live in has changed, it is not worthy of the magicks. Emotions are a weakness; the followers of the evil path are right with their thoughts. They now hold the true power because of the mistake of one man. Connected to the physical world he is now, he must forget about his cares and worries, for only then can he balance the scales that he seeks to balance. To Avalon you must fly, I sense that you are ready and time is of the essence. It is in your heart and souls; I can see it in your minds. You speaks no words, but I know you are willing to do anything to save your world. My master awaits your presence. Come with me now and be at peace.' "
He dictates the words to Severus and Sirius as they appear in the book. It ends with the symbol of a pentagram--a five pointed star, where each point represents a certain element--and another shrill, inhuman battle cry that echoes endlessly in the vast library. The winds pick up once more, chanting around them, although there are no windows open, and a silver fog descends from the ceiling and onto the three members of the Last Alliance. The mists begin to envelope them, and swallow them, coughing and hacking, to a distant land where no mortal man has set foot on for millennia.
* * *
The moon never sets here, and the sun never rises. Over the lush green forests and to the mountain's peaks, the water falls in streams and bathes in silver pools at our traveller's feet. Golden stepping stones lead to a castle of crystal, pure and clear. Knights in silver armour guard the secrets buried within, but physical possessions do not rest on this floating island. Stars twinkle in the heavens above, lighting separate paths for the travellers three. One is bathed in green and silver; his path has a ghost of black and white. The other is white and blue, and a mystic aura of silver covers him. The last is pure black, and ascends to the stars above, where his namesake constellation rests. They are Severus Snape, the leader of the alliance, who is also the heir of Merlin, and Sirius Black. They appear from nowhere, emerging from the mists. The grey robes that each wore have now been replaced in teleportation with navy blue ones with gold trimming. Noble colours. The symbol of royalty. For now they walk among legends based on fact.
"I welcome thee to Avalon. Stay thee well, good strangers, for your kind are always deemed welcome here." From the castle limps a lone figure, grey-haired and old. He wears drab brown robes with a leather belt tied around his thin waist. Attached to the belt are many pouches containing dried herbs and other spell components. His eerie eyes hold no colour, and he supports himself upon a staff encrusted with crystal green gems. The mage stands before them, his white eyes meeting with those azure eyes of the Alliance's leader. He bows immediately. "Welcome, descendant of Merlin. With your presence now here, I may rest. My master awaits your audience, for he has the information that you seek."
"And your master has a name, I presume?" Severus asks, stepping between the elderly mage and the young leader. He doesn't know why he was brought here, and he doesn't trust his surroundings. His mission at the moment is to protect one of his former students.
"My master's name is known to those who know of him and seek his guidance. For he is not of a concern to you, heir of Balthasar Slytherin. You serve a greater purpose in life, fallen angel. North is your star; you guide it with your heart and with your soul although your birthright you betrayed, knowing perfectly well the path you walked. There is a mark on your arm that is the symbol of Salazar, and of his blood you are not. Your eyes were clouded with crow's wings and serpent's skin, but falter not again, for this time you will not escape the ultimate evil."
Severus cringes, the dialogue hitting too close to home, but he soon takes the defence. "Who are you to speak those words? You don't understand how life is. You reside up here in a beautiful crystal utopia, and the maths of war never jade you. You who are to speak to us?"
The mage bows again. "Please, forgive me. I am known as Jasper. I studied under Merlin for years, but I betrayed our king. His blood stains my hands, and I was doomed to await your arrival, even if you never arrived. With you here now, I can finally rest." He stares them straight in the eyes, but looks right through them. It's noticeable that heavy bags rest from his eyes to his cheekbones, which are sunken. His skin is wrinkled and dry, and his fingers have been reduced to bone. The others back away from this mage.
"Take me to your master and retire to your bed." Merlin's heir speaks with controlled power in his voice.
"I sleep on a bed of bones covered in blood and guts. I will turn to dust, and I welcome my fate. I've paid for my mistake eons over, I grow weary of this body, and wish to leave it behind before I am taken to hell." Jasper leans heavily on his wooden staff, before coughing suddenly and doubling over from the violence of it all.
"I apologise for your fate."
"Don't. For remorse is something that is not suited to you. It is your flaw, you care too much. Bonded to the physical world you are, you should have given your life before you even knew what life was. The Merlin line was fated to end with you, and the scales would have been balanced forever. Now, the scales have begun to tilt. Evil triumphs over good. There are dark clouds coming over this earth, and it will devour us all," Jasper rasps, placing a hand over his belt. From the beauty of their surroundings, Jasper seems terribly out of place.
"I came here for answers, yet you are merely bringing forth more questions," Merlin's bloodline speaks, as his hands tug uncomfortably upon the robes they were materialised into. A weird fabric they are, he has never felt anything such as them before. Softer than silk, and lighter than cotton, it's a fabric that was worn only in the old days by the royalty of the most prosperous kingdoms.
"I know, but some questions I must bring before you are taken back to the land. Your presence here interrupts the scales and the magicks. Your fate was predetermined; your destiny was set in stone. Come with me now, for my master waits patiently in his last resting place." Jasper turns slowly, his staff clanking against the golden stones with each step.
Slowly, the others follow behind him.
As they enter the castle, which dwells in the centre of Avalon, they notice that the crystal is throughout the whole castle, not just encrusted on the outside. The permanent sunset outside shines rays of red, orange and light blue into the prisms, separating the colours around them. Severus comments sarcastically about walking into a rainbow, and a sharp look from his superior quiets him. They enter a room that has no doors, and volumes of old books line the walls, reaching to the ceiling. Titles such as "The Origin of Elves", "Dark Wizards", and "Egyptian Cats and Their Goddess" catch their eyes. Sirius reaches for the book about elves, but his hand is knocked away by Jasper.
"The elves left your world long ago, you need not concern yourself with them."
"But there are elves on our world," Sirius replies, utterly confused at Jasper's words. His hand lands on the shoulder of the Alliance leader, and halts him in his steps. He, like Severus, does not trust this man now, not when he speaks confusingly. He can smell danger, and it lurks all around them, but he doesn't know where is originates from, or if the evil is on Avalon. Better safe than sorry, Sirius thinks, though.
"Lowly, disgusting servants," Jasper spits, disgusted with the race that was once beautiful and pure. "Their fate, their de-evolution, was caused by the darkness in everyone's hearts and the actions of one evil wizard."
"Volde--"
"Grindelwald," Jasper corrects before Severus finishes the name. "The elves were not always your degrading slaves. They were once a beautiful race that lived in harmony in forests that paralleled their unwavering beauty. Then the world wars began, and Grindelwald began his rise to power before apprentice Albus Dumbledore defeated him in 1945. The elves were a powerful race, born with power that no man could ever dream of. Many people did not know them; Muggles considered them a myth, and eventually the tales died. Only a few wizards and witches scattered across the land knew of their existence. Grindelwald took advantage of them, replaced their pure hearts with darkness, and those who didn't escape your doomed world are now known as house elves."
"Why isn't any of this in the history books? Why didn't we learn about it in the History of Magic?"
"Because the history books are written by the good guys. Anything dark, or anything that they couldn't save, or anything that they are responsible for are, is not written. They try to cover up their mistakes, they try to prove that they are not human--they do not make errors. That is one of the flaws of the human race." Jasper pauses as they pass a closed steel door. "Step carefully now, the Knights of the Round Table are asleep, and the marauders have yet to call home."
Jovial laughter and the clanking of mugs can be heard from the inside of the chamber, but they keep walking.
"Sir Lancelot does not party with them," Jasper informs. "He sleeps six feet under with the king's wife."
Severus and Sirius, who are familiar with the legend that Jasper speaks of, nod their heads. The legend of Merlin, King Arthur, and Sir Lancelot has been passed down as a children's bedtime tale, based loosely on fact. It's hard to believe now that they walk on the sacred soil of Avalon, King Arthur's crypt. On the other hand, the other has not heard of this tale, but somehow he knows of it. It flows in his veins; he's known about it since as long as he can remember, but he does not know how.
Silence walks with them as they turn another corner and enter a vast garden. Fruit trees and evergreens surround them densely, purple and white flowers grow in the gardens, and vines wrap themselves around imaginary fences. Animals, such as white squirrels and black cats, live in the garden in peace, and stone gargoyles guard Avalon from this place. In the centre rests a marble slab, and upon that rock rests another stone, which is an unusual shade of violet. The magical currents flow deep around the stone that the Alliance leader somehow recognises as the Philosopher's Stone. But he heard that it was destroyed.
They pass though the garden quickly, and soon enter a chamber made of moonstone and quartz crystal. No light shines into this room, and it comes to a peak high in the sky. A stone crypt is built in the centre, and upon the smooth rock rests a sword. The sword glistens with an unknown light, and the handle is beautifully carved with expensive metalwork and gems.
"Please wait here, and my master will appear to you shortly." Jasper bows and backs away from the three. When they turn around, all that remains of the accursed mage is a pile of dust beneath dried herbs, which came from his many pouches. Shivers run down their spines as invisible winds blow the remains over the gardens, and the permanently setting sun disappears behind the castle's walls.
"I welcome thee to my dungeon and my home." A distinguished man appears from the gardens, guarded by tall creatures with wings sprouting from their backs on either of his sides. "Greetings. I am King Arthur, and these are my guardians and also friends, Diamond and Peridot."
Diamond is a smooth-skinned gargoyle; white hair cascades down his back. His eyes are large and silver, resembling a cat's. He wears white furs over his light grey skin, and diamond jewellery hangs from his pointy ears and long neck. Peridot, on the other hand, has army-green scales as his skin. He wears camouflage as his clothes, and has light green eyes identical in colour to his name. Both of the gargoyles have sharp features, pointy noses, and large mouths with very sharp teeth. They are ancient mythical creature, stone during the day and alive only at night.
The three bow before them in respect. "It's an honour to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," King Arthur replies. He is a tall man with broad shoulders and a defined chest. He wears robes of purple with silver trimming, and dark silver armour rests underneath the robes. His hair is tamed and dark red, and a golden crown with ruby gems rests slanted upon his head. His eyes are a deep sea-green colour, a colour that they have not seen in any other human, besides the one who drove the sword into his heart. Those eyes belonged to his son, the lover of Jasper's daughter.
"Your majesty, we've come from afar to seek your advice."
"Merlin's descendant, I've been waiting for your arrival for many years, although you should not be. You seek power and knowledge, but only one I can give, for they are the same. With knowledge comes power, and with power comes knowledge. You have the power already, but are too afraid to use it. You aim to gather the heirs and channel their energy, but you know not the consequences. You have half of your task complete, the heir of Hufflepuff and the heir of Slytherin. And you, you my young friend, are the heir to the most powerful wizard to have ever walked on your plane of existence.
"Do you know of your past? I can't imagine that you do. But wonder not now, for eventually it will open to you. You know what it is you must do, but you come for reassurance. You have the giants on your side, you have a few Death Eaters as your eyes, and you have Merlin's power flowing through your veins. My gargoyles are at your hand, but know that they can only leave Avalon one night every hundred years. Choose wisely, for if you make a mistake, there is no turning back."
The leader of the Last Alliance nods. "I understand, and I thank you. We don't know when we will make our first move, but it's apparent that we must liberate the camp where Gilderoy Lockhart is imprisoned. And that's when we will need help. We don't have enough power to take on thousands of Death Eaters."
"Then that is the night that the gargoyles will assist you. You will have the Death Eaters running in fear, but Malfoy will retaliate as best as he can. Your war will be a hard one to fight, and it may take years to reach your goal, but play your cards right and victory will be yours. You may choose one of these two gargoyles as your Hermes into Avalon, for I will bend the rules, and he will reside on Earth until you send word."
"Diamond will serve as our messenger."
Diamond steps forward proudly and stands next to the heir of Merlin.
"And he will be unable to help in battle. His time on the earth starts now." King Arthur walks over to the crypt, and gently picks up the sword. "This is my gift to you. Use it well, and once you pass onto the next world, it will return to me. Excalibur's power is now yours to wield. I wish you all luck on your journey."
Merlin's heir takes the true king's sword. "I--I thank you." Excalibur's power sends waves through his body, jolting him into a sense of vivacity he has not felt for as long as he can remember. "I have faith now, with the help of your many gargoyles, that we will be successful in liberating a camp. You have helped us more than I can even describe, your highness. I will forever be in your debt."
"You can thank me by rebalancing the scales on earth."
She squints her dark eyes against the brightness of the fluorescent infirmary lights, and takes a deep breath before she tries to sit up in the firm bed, but finds herself unable to move. Her back hurts, that's the first thing she notices, and secondly is the burning sensation in her lower abdomen. She remembers that after she gave that last push, she had fainted. Either that, or the medicine that Madam Greingrass had given her to subdue the pain had put her to sleep shortly afterwards.
Her thoughts are floating around her mind like puzzle pieces that need to be connected to one another. She relaxes, and her eyes drift closed once more.
One piece of that puzzle has Lucius painted upon the cardboard, and Marie can't remember if he was present during the delivery. On an afterthought, she considers that he probably was. After all, the birth of his son is something that he wouldn't want to miss; it's what he's been looking forward to since Marie had told him of the child growing inside of her.
Another piece of the jigsaw that floats to her mind's eye has Draco sketched upon it. Silver hair and green Quidditch robes, he has the Golden Snitch, but his hands are decomposed. Leathery and rotting, she mentally watches as Draco turns to bone, and then to dust in her mind.
One night shortly after the fateful Quidditch game, Marie remembers that Lucius had told her that his son would never learn to fly. Would never play Quidditch. Not as Draco did.
Lucius has forbidden his unborn son to do many of the "dangerous activities" that Draco took part in and loved. The child will never touch a broomstick, and he will never travel down to the camps. There will be women who will wait on him, and house elves that will serve him. Now, he is Lucius's only son, and should be treated as such. Marie knows better than to argue with this. If it were her son who was killed, she believes she would be acting in a similar fashion.
Marie's first-born son was born one month premature. Many had worried that the child would be stillborn, but thankfully, that wasn't the case. He was born healthy, weighing six pounds and three ounces, and with a full head of hair contrasting white snow. His eyes were a piercing red colour, and black lines outlined them as eyeliner. They were a shade of red that was as dark and beautiful as newly spilt blood.
She can imagine that word will spread quickly among the Death Eaters about the "demon child" who would follow in his father's footsteps. Tonight, many toasts will be performed in the Death Eater castles and housings around Britain, and they'll all cheer the good name of Fyre Malfoy.
* * *
"How. could you send Sirius to Romania knowing perfectly well that you sent Karkaroff, Fleur, and myself there for the same reasons?" Severus bursts through the doors of the Delacour Library where the leader of the Last Alliance sits with a collection of books and parchment before him. The travellers four had just returned minutes before using a portkey that Sirius had set up. With them, they brought Merlin's Book of Shadows, and that's what Severus has in his hands, as well as his angry words on the tip of his tongue.
The commanding wizard looks up from his papers and drops his eagle quill. "What?" He furrows his eyebrows and stares at Severus with wide and confused azure eyes. He leans forward, clasping his hands together, and rests his elbows on the table. The robes he wears are grey polyester, same issue as the ones Severus changed into upon his return.
"You sent Sirius to Romania to recruit the help of the giants!" Severus growls lowly, throwing the heavy magick journal onto the table. It lands with a loud thud and the settling of dust.
A chuckle comes from the wizard before Severus as he picks up the journal and studies it. "I only sent Sirius to retrieve this book. I never told him anything about recruiting the giant's help. I knew that was your mission, I wouldn't disrespect you by giving it to someone else, Snape." He doesn't look at Severus as he speaks; instead, he taps three times on the book with his long wand. A golden spark flies from the wand, but nothing of relevance happens. He slouches his shoulders and pouts in mock frustration.
Severus doesn't say anything, realising angrily that Sirius purposely played him for his own selfish amusement. Just like Sirius, Severus considers as he shakes his head. Grumbling a few words about killing Sirius and burying the pieces around Marseilles, Severus stiffly turns to leave with his fists clenched at his side, ready to maim Sirius.
"Don't kill him, Snape." The voice comes amused.
"Why not?"
"Because," is only the reply the blue-eyed wizard gives, but he then decides that that probably isn't good enough for Severus to halt his actions. "We just may need his help in opening this book." He turns Merlin's journal over, running his middle finger along the engraved stars, moons and pentacles. There's a phrase also engraved around the outer edge of the leather, but the letters are not of the English language. In fact, he doesn't know of a language that those symbols belong to, and he himself is a talented linguist. A concerned "Hmmm . . ." comes from the commander as he realises that he just read the passage, when, obviously, he isn't supposed to be able to. "Did you notice--"
"What about Fleur or the other one?" Severus cuts off, not realising that the wizard is speaking.
The interruption doesn't matter to him; he can always get back to the passage later when he and Severus aren't having this discussion, which they've had a lot lately. " 'The other one' is resting. You should know that. And, Fleur requested some time to spend with Gabrielle, so I granted her a few days of R&R, effective once she returned from Romania."
"And you did this without consulting the rest of us?"
"There's nothing of importance happening. I saw no need to consult you and the others."
Severus sneers inwardly.
"Now, since we are on the subject of Romania and your travels, what did you hear from the good mystic?" He sets the Book of Shadows aside, mentally reminding himself to bring it up later. He is, after all, eager to hear what Severus, Fleur, and Karkaroff uncovered while they were away for these past few months.
Severus shrugs and gives the short version. "Peru-san spoke in riddles, but that should have been expected. The heir of Hufflepuff is what she was most helpful with. She described Gilderoy Lockhart perfectly. The heir of Ravenclaw, as the heir of Hufflepuff, was not sorted into his blood house, and he just may be a Death Eater."
An annoyed scowl comes from the commanding wizard as he remembers back to his second year at Hogwarts. Lockhart was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, taking after Quirrell. Such dreadful times his second year was, he doesn't really want to deal with that incompetent git Lockhart again. Unlike Lockhart though, he liked Quirrell. A different fellow, strange karma surrounded him. He also liked that Flitwick fellow, an eccentric old busy-body he was, and the head of Ravenclaw.
"If we are done with that business now, Snape, I believe I just may have noticed something that you'll want to see . . ." He leans for the book and passes it to Severus, his grey robes chafing against the pile of parchments, causing some to glide elegantly to the stone marble floor. "Can you read that passage?"
Severus reaches for the book and, raising an eyebrow, responds flatly that he cannot understand it. "How could anyone?" he adds. "It's in an ancient language of magick that has been lost to witches and wizards for thousands of years. I myself have studied it, but the knowledge surrounding it is very limited. No wizard alive can understand it, even if they studied it all their life."
The superior nods, "Yes, of course. Get Sirius in here now, please."
Severus raises his lip in suspicion, but doesn't ask questions. Spinning on his heels, he leaves with the skirts of his robes billowing behind him and footsteps sounding though the library. A few minutes later as the other wizard merely sat still and inspected the closed book, Severus returns with Sirius, who is adjusting the grey robes that he has just changed into.
"What's the problem, mate?" Sirius asks casually, cracking each of his knuckles separately before moving onto his neck, all the while keeping his violet eyes--a colour that has never been seen in any other human besides his mother, grandfather, and great grandfather--locked on the wizard who sits at the table.
"This book," is the response. "Can you read that passage?"
"No." Sirius shrugs, giving the book a moment's glance. "I can't imagine that anyone could."
"Really? Because I can."
"So what does it say?" Severus demands in an impatient tone, not grasping what that means immediately. Crossing his arms, he side steps away from Sirius who makes a move to punch him playfully on the arm.
" 'The power is my power, it is as energy. It hasn't decreased or increased, and you cannot make it. The one who controls it is the descendant of the heir. Excalibur's power shall be theirs to wield, and theirs alone. Avalon calls out to you from the five corners of the earth. Where must you find it to access the power of your birthright?' " A pause of mysterious realisation before, "It's a riddle. A protection device so only the true heir of Merlin can open this artefact. But this makes no sense. To find the power you must know where Avalon is, but it's as air. It goes where the wind blows it." And he suddenly realised what this means--he is one of the heirs that they've been seeking. He understands the passage, he knows where Avalon floats when it's a myth, and the book responds to him answering the riddle.
With those words spoken, a bright white light starts to glow from the centre star of the book. It starts out dim and gradually grows brighter, and all they do is watch, mesmerised. The book flips opens with a loud, shrill scream that resembles a battle cry, shaking the bookshelves and rattling the windows. Unknown winds flip the off-white pages of the book until it's open in the centre, where the ancient language appears magically. It's written with light, and turns black as it spells out another phrase:
" 'The world you live in has changed, it is not worthy of the magicks. Emotions are a weakness; the followers of the evil path are right with their thoughts. They now hold the true power because of the mistake of one man. Connected to the physical world he is now, he must forget about his cares and worries, for only then can he balance the scales that he seeks to balance. To Avalon you must fly, I sense that you are ready and time is of the essence. It is in your heart and souls; I can see it in your minds. You speaks no words, but I know you are willing to do anything to save your world. My master awaits your presence. Come with me now and be at peace.' "
He dictates the words to Severus and Sirius as they appear in the book. It ends with the symbol of a pentagram--a five pointed star, where each point represents a certain element--and another shrill, inhuman battle cry that echoes endlessly in the vast library. The winds pick up once more, chanting around them, although there are no windows open, and a silver fog descends from the ceiling and onto the three members of the Last Alliance. The mists begin to envelope them, and swallow them, coughing and hacking, to a distant land where no mortal man has set foot on for millennia.
* * *
The moon never sets here, and the sun never rises. Over the lush green forests and to the mountain's peaks, the water falls in streams and bathes in silver pools at our traveller's feet. Golden stepping stones lead to a castle of crystal, pure and clear. Knights in silver armour guard the secrets buried within, but physical possessions do not rest on this floating island. Stars twinkle in the heavens above, lighting separate paths for the travellers three. One is bathed in green and silver; his path has a ghost of black and white. The other is white and blue, and a mystic aura of silver covers him. The last is pure black, and ascends to the stars above, where his namesake constellation rests. They are Severus Snape, the leader of the alliance, who is also the heir of Merlin, and Sirius Black. They appear from nowhere, emerging from the mists. The grey robes that each wore have now been replaced in teleportation with navy blue ones with gold trimming. Noble colours. The symbol of royalty. For now they walk among legends based on fact.
"I welcome thee to Avalon. Stay thee well, good strangers, for your kind are always deemed welcome here." From the castle limps a lone figure, grey-haired and old. He wears drab brown robes with a leather belt tied around his thin waist. Attached to the belt are many pouches containing dried herbs and other spell components. His eerie eyes hold no colour, and he supports himself upon a staff encrusted with crystal green gems. The mage stands before them, his white eyes meeting with those azure eyes of the Alliance's leader. He bows immediately. "Welcome, descendant of Merlin. With your presence now here, I may rest. My master awaits your audience, for he has the information that you seek."
"And your master has a name, I presume?" Severus asks, stepping between the elderly mage and the young leader. He doesn't know why he was brought here, and he doesn't trust his surroundings. His mission at the moment is to protect one of his former students.
"My master's name is known to those who know of him and seek his guidance. For he is not of a concern to you, heir of Balthasar Slytherin. You serve a greater purpose in life, fallen angel. North is your star; you guide it with your heart and with your soul although your birthright you betrayed, knowing perfectly well the path you walked. There is a mark on your arm that is the symbol of Salazar, and of his blood you are not. Your eyes were clouded with crow's wings and serpent's skin, but falter not again, for this time you will not escape the ultimate evil."
Severus cringes, the dialogue hitting too close to home, but he soon takes the defence. "Who are you to speak those words? You don't understand how life is. You reside up here in a beautiful crystal utopia, and the maths of war never jade you. You who are to speak to us?"
The mage bows again. "Please, forgive me. I am known as Jasper. I studied under Merlin for years, but I betrayed our king. His blood stains my hands, and I was doomed to await your arrival, even if you never arrived. With you here now, I can finally rest." He stares them straight in the eyes, but looks right through them. It's noticeable that heavy bags rest from his eyes to his cheekbones, which are sunken. His skin is wrinkled and dry, and his fingers have been reduced to bone. The others back away from this mage.
"Take me to your master and retire to your bed." Merlin's heir speaks with controlled power in his voice.
"I sleep on a bed of bones covered in blood and guts. I will turn to dust, and I welcome my fate. I've paid for my mistake eons over, I grow weary of this body, and wish to leave it behind before I am taken to hell." Jasper leans heavily on his wooden staff, before coughing suddenly and doubling over from the violence of it all.
"I apologise for your fate."
"Don't. For remorse is something that is not suited to you. It is your flaw, you care too much. Bonded to the physical world you are, you should have given your life before you even knew what life was. The Merlin line was fated to end with you, and the scales would have been balanced forever. Now, the scales have begun to tilt. Evil triumphs over good. There are dark clouds coming over this earth, and it will devour us all," Jasper rasps, placing a hand over his belt. From the beauty of their surroundings, Jasper seems terribly out of place.
"I came here for answers, yet you are merely bringing forth more questions," Merlin's bloodline speaks, as his hands tug uncomfortably upon the robes they were materialised into. A weird fabric they are, he has never felt anything such as them before. Softer than silk, and lighter than cotton, it's a fabric that was worn only in the old days by the royalty of the most prosperous kingdoms.
"I know, but some questions I must bring before you are taken back to the land. Your presence here interrupts the scales and the magicks. Your fate was predetermined; your destiny was set in stone. Come with me now, for my master waits patiently in his last resting place." Jasper turns slowly, his staff clanking against the golden stones with each step.
Slowly, the others follow behind him.
As they enter the castle, which dwells in the centre of Avalon, they notice that the crystal is throughout the whole castle, not just encrusted on the outside. The permanent sunset outside shines rays of red, orange and light blue into the prisms, separating the colours around them. Severus comments sarcastically about walking into a rainbow, and a sharp look from his superior quiets him. They enter a room that has no doors, and volumes of old books line the walls, reaching to the ceiling. Titles such as "The Origin of Elves", "Dark Wizards", and "Egyptian Cats and Their Goddess" catch their eyes. Sirius reaches for the book about elves, but his hand is knocked away by Jasper.
"The elves left your world long ago, you need not concern yourself with them."
"But there are elves on our world," Sirius replies, utterly confused at Jasper's words. His hand lands on the shoulder of the Alliance leader, and halts him in his steps. He, like Severus, does not trust this man now, not when he speaks confusingly. He can smell danger, and it lurks all around them, but he doesn't know where is originates from, or if the evil is on Avalon. Better safe than sorry, Sirius thinks, though.
"Lowly, disgusting servants," Jasper spits, disgusted with the race that was once beautiful and pure. "Their fate, their de-evolution, was caused by the darkness in everyone's hearts and the actions of one evil wizard."
"Volde--"
"Grindelwald," Jasper corrects before Severus finishes the name. "The elves were not always your degrading slaves. They were once a beautiful race that lived in harmony in forests that paralleled their unwavering beauty. Then the world wars began, and Grindelwald began his rise to power before apprentice Albus Dumbledore defeated him in 1945. The elves were a powerful race, born with power that no man could ever dream of. Many people did not know them; Muggles considered them a myth, and eventually the tales died. Only a few wizards and witches scattered across the land knew of their existence. Grindelwald took advantage of them, replaced their pure hearts with darkness, and those who didn't escape your doomed world are now known as house elves."
"Why isn't any of this in the history books? Why didn't we learn about it in the History of Magic?"
"Because the history books are written by the good guys. Anything dark, or anything that they couldn't save, or anything that they are responsible for are, is not written. They try to cover up their mistakes, they try to prove that they are not human--they do not make errors. That is one of the flaws of the human race." Jasper pauses as they pass a closed steel door. "Step carefully now, the Knights of the Round Table are asleep, and the marauders have yet to call home."
Jovial laughter and the clanking of mugs can be heard from the inside of the chamber, but they keep walking.
"Sir Lancelot does not party with them," Jasper informs. "He sleeps six feet under with the king's wife."
Severus and Sirius, who are familiar with the legend that Jasper speaks of, nod their heads. The legend of Merlin, King Arthur, and Sir Lancelot has been passed down as a children's bedtime tale, based loosely on fact. It's hard to believe now that they walk on the sacred soil of Avalon, King Arthur's crypt. On the other hand, the other has not heard of this tale, but somehow he knows of it. It flows in his veins; he's known about it since as long as he can remember, but he does not know how.
Silence walks with them as they turn another corner and enter a vast garden. Fruit trees and evergreens surround them densely, purple and white flowers grow in the gardens, and vines wrap themselves around imaginary fences. Animals, such as white squirrels and black cats, live in the garden in peace, and stone gargoyles guard Avalon from this place. In the centre rests a marble slab, and upon that rock rests another stone, which is an unusual shade of violet. The magical currents flow deep around the stone that the Alliance leader somehow recognises as the Philosopher's Stone. But he heard that it was destroyed.
They pass though the garden quickly, and soon enter a chamber made of moonstone and quartz crystal. No light shines into this room, and it comes to a peak high in the sky. A stone crypt is built in the centre, and upon the smooth rock rests a sword. The sword glistens with an unknown light, and the handle is beautifully carved with expensive metalwork and gems.
"Please wait here, and my master will appear to you shortly." Jasper bows and backs away from the three. When they turn around, all that remains of the accursed mage is a pile of dust beneath dried herbs, which came from his many pouches. Shivers run down their spines as invisible winds blow the remains over the gardens, and the permanently setting sun disappears behind the castle's walls.
"I welcome thee to my dungeon and my home." A distinguished man appears from the gardens, guarded by tall creatures with wings sprouting from their backs on either of his sides. "Greetings. I am King Arthur, and these are my guardians and also friends, Diamond and Peridot."
Diamond is a smooth-skinned gargoyle; white hair cascades down his back. His eyes are large and silver, resembling a cat's. He wears white furs over his light grey skin, and diamond jewellery hangs from his pointy ears and long neck. Peridot, on the other hand, has army-green scales as his skin. He wears camouflage as his clothes, and has light green eyes identical in colour to his name. Both of the gargoyles have sharp features, pointy noses, and large mouths with very sharp teeth. They are ancient mythical creature, stone during the day and alive only at night.
The three bow before them in respect. "It's an honour to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," King Arthur replies. He is a tall man with broad shoulders and a defined chest. He wears robes of purple with silver trimming, and dark silver armour rests underneath the robes. His hair is tamed and dark red, and a golden crown with ruby gems rests slanted upon his head. His eyes are a deep sea-green colour, a colour that they have not seen in any other human, besides the one who drove the sword into his heart. Those eyes belonged to his son, the lover of Jasper's daughter.
"Your majesty, we've come from afar to seek your advice."
"Merlin's descendant, I've been waiting for your arrival for many years, although you should not be. You seek power and knowledge, but only one I can give, for they are the same. With knowledge comes power, and with power comes knowledge. You have the power already, but are too afraid to use it. You aim to gather the heirs and channel their energy, but you know not the consequences. You have half of your task complete, the heir of Hufflepuff and the heir of Slytherin. And you, you my young friend, are the heir to the most powerful wizard to have ever walked on your plane of existence.
"Do you know of your past? I can't imagine that you do. But wonder not now, for eventually it will open to you. You know what it is you must do, but you come for reassurance. You have the giants on your side, you have a few Death Eaters as your eyes, and you have Merlin's power flowing through your veins. My gargoyles are at your hand, but know that they can only leave Avalon one night every hundred years. Choose wisely, for if you make a mistake, there is no turning back."
The leader of the Last Alliance nods. "I understand, and I thank you. We don't know when we will make our first move, but it's apparent that we must liberate the camp where Gilderoy Lockhart is imprisoned. And that's when we will need help. We don't have enough power to take on thousands of Death Eaters."
"Then that is the night that the gargoyles will assist you. You will have the Death Eaters running in fear, but Malfoy will retaliate as best as he can. Your war will be a hard one to fight, and it may take years to reach your goal, but play your cards right and victory will be yours. You may choose one of these two gargoyles as your Hermes into Avalon, for I will bend the rules, and he will reside on Earth until you send word."
"Diamond will serve as our messenger."
Diamond steps forward proudly and stands next to the heir of Merlin.
"And he will be unable to help in battle. His time on the earth starts now." King Arthur walks over to the crypt, and gently picks up the sword. "This is my gift to you. Use it well, and once you pass onto the next world, it will return to me. Excalibur's power is now yours to wield. I wish you all luck on your journey."
Merlin's heir takes the true king's sword. "I--I thank you." Excalibur's power sends waves through his body, jolting him into a sense of vivacity he has not felt for as long as he can remember. "I have faith now, with the help of your many gargoyles, that we will be successful in liberating a camp. You have helped us more than I can even describe, your highness. I will forever be in your debt."
"You can thank me by rebalancing the scales on earth."
