Oh coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! -Richard III V.3.198
"So she's not in Hogwarts, and she's not with Aberforth Dumbledore."
"That pretty much sums it up," Apollo agreed. "Any more plans, Pollux?"
The Parselmouth shook his head. It was easy to believe, looking at his haggard, exhausted face, that he had the memories of a sixty-plus-year-old man. It was harder to believe that behind the Fae glamor, he himself was but twelve years old. "Sisith has volunteered to follow Dumbledore invisibly, but snakes can't Apparate. Wizards can. And yes, Pallas, I know that you can't Apparate into or out of Hogwarts, but there are other methods of magical transportation that Sisith can't use either. Floo Powder, broomsticks, Portkeys…." He rubbed his temples.
"Perhaps an exchange of hostages?" suggested Bianca.
"I don't think he's close enough to Aberforth that he'd exchange Saysa for him."
The blond woman hesitated. "But there are people essential to Dumbledore's plans. If we targeted one of them, he would be forced to give her back to us."
"But who's important to him?" Sirius wondered. "We know who's important to the Wizarding world- the Minister, his support staff, the Department Heads, members of the Wizengamot- but how do we know if those people matter to Dumbledore?"
Bianca did not move her gaze from the worn figure of Pollux. "There is one person who I know is essential to whatever he has planned."
Pallas took the bait. "Who?"
The other woman grimaced. "I know that you won't approve, Pollux, but it's not like we would be harming him. He would just be Stunned for an inordinate length of time. He would be much safer with us than Saysa is with Dumbledore."
Thunderclouds gathered on the Parslemouth's brow. He suspected what she was getting at, but had to know for sure. "Who, Bianca?"
"Mark Potter."
The tension in the room became almost palpable. Even those who didn't know Pollux's true identity could see in his stance that Bianca had crossed a line.
"No," the Lightning Speaker growled. "We are not involving him in this."
Tyr arched a brow. "Why, because he's too young?"
Dudley began scooting surreptitiously towards the door. He'd never seen Pollux that angry before. It wasn't a calming sight.
"It… might work," Apollo noted hesitantly. "No, Pollux, hear me out. We don't even know what Dumbledore has planned. We can guess, but the only thing we know for sure is that it involves Mark Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived is too good a pawn to pass up."
"But that's awful!" cried Pallas. "We can't just go around kidnapping people, or we'll be no better than they are!"
"I don't like it either," Bianca hissed, "but do you have any better ideas? Mark Potter wouldn't be in danger. Saysa is."
"We have to draw the line somewhere," he retorted. "I've already Obliviated Aberforth. That was bad enough, but it was necessary. I had no other option. Now, though, we have a choice. There has to be some way to rescue Saysa without nabbing Mark." The skin of his knuckles was white with strain. "There has to be."
"But is there?" Bianca demanded. "And if there is, can we find it in time? Or perhaps, once we find it, we discover that it is even more reprehensible. What then?"
Pollux's entire body drained. He looked old, ancient even.
"At the very least consider it." The blonde's was soft, gentle, regretful, she didn't like this either. "Saysa's life is on the line. I know that you don't want to involve Mark. I know that you want to keep him safe and happy. But I also know that Saysa is in more danger than she has ever been. We are the only ones who could save her. Please, Pollux, at least think about my plan."
"I don't think it would work," Alexander volunteered shyly. Everyone in the room turned to him. "What if kidnapping Mark made Dumbledore come after us? He might have tracking charms on him, or some other way of finding him. Then Dumbledore would find the Isle and Padfoot and Tyr and the Chalice. What I'm saying is, we don't want to provoke him until we know we can win."
"Unless we have no choice," Bianca retorted.
"But we do have a choice. Either we focus on finding Saysa and rescuing her ourselves, or we find some way to make Dumbledore hand her over. Personally, I think that the first option is less…."
"Less what?"
"Less like what he would do," Alexander finished, flinching away.
"And how, pray tell, do you intend to find her?" Bianca demanded. "She could be anywhere in the British Isles. For all we know, Dumbledore has some secret hideaway in France!"
"I don't know!" he cried. "But I think we can figure it out. Pollux, do you know any tracking spells?"
"If I did, I'd have used them already."
The Gryffindor's shoulders slumped. "Good point. I didn't think of that."
"But his point is still valid," Pallas pointed out. "We don't want to provoke Dumbledore. The second we go too far, he will turn against us. I don't know what he can do, but I don't want to find out."
"So we actually have three options," Apollo mused. "We either provoke Dumbledore now, gather up our strength and provoke him then, or find Saysa ourselves."
"The second option would take too long," Tyr announced, "so it's not an option at all."
"I vote for option C," Sirius decided. "It's the least risky, I think."
"C," Alexander agreed. Pallas nodded her agreement.
Pollux met Bianca's gaze. "C," he growled, daring her to challenge him.
Tyr looked at the two disguised Slytherins: one dark and defiant, the other pale and icily enraged. "C," he decided, "at least for now."
The Daughter of Frost knew that she was outnumbered. "Very well," she acquiesced. "How should we carry this out?"
No one answered.
"I could go through his old hidey-holes," Sirius finally volunteered. "I know where quite a few of them are. Or maybe I could send the house-elves to them- only if they wanted to, of course," he hastened to add, noticing Pallas's thunderous expression.
Bianca took in her fellow witch's basilisk gaze. Her eyes went wide. "How many of the dragons can access the serpent sight?"
Pollux's head snapped around. He saw what she was getting at. "About twenty of them."
"They could scan the countryside," she breathed, "searching for any pattern that might be Saysa. Dumbledore doesn't know about the serpent sight- he won't have warded against it- and the dragons will be happy to serve a Queen of Serpents."
"Norberta especially," Apollo agreed.
The dragons' wrath had been terrible to behold. Their souls were fiery as their breaths, and they were all loyal to Saysa. They would gladly scour the countryside for her. The only difficulty would be persuading them not to attack until the humans had rescued Saysa. It had been hard enough to persuade them not to raze Hogwarts to the ground.
Norberta in particular had been hard to restrain. Saysa was her foster-mother, the only family she had ever known. To her, the basilisk was more than just a respected Queen of Serpents. She was kin.
"What are we waiting for?" Sirius demanded. "The dragons are usually on the south side of the Isle this time of day. Let's go tell them."
Padfoot was right. Almost two dozen dragons, Norberta among them, lay basking in the spring sun. The Ridgeback was the first to react to the humans' presence. "Did you find her yet?" she demanded.
"No," Pollux replied, "but we have more ideas for where to search."
"Tell me," the dragoness demanded.
The Parselmouth summarized parts of their conversation, leaving out Bianca's suggestion that they abduct Mark. He knew exactly how she would react if she thought that taking his brother would help her mother: she would fly to Hogwarts herself and snatch him out of Quidditch practice. Entertaining as Dumbledore's reaction to that would be, it would probably traumatize poor Mark for life.
"I can track down those of us who can use that sight," volunteered a Hebridean Black.
"How long will it take?" Pollux asked.
"Perhaps a day."
"Good. We'll need that long to map your route, make sure there's no overlap."
The dragon nodded his vast head before unfolding his wings and soaring off.
Norberta did not share Pollux's approval. "Good?" she echoed. "It's not good at all. Every second you delay is another second for him to kill my mother, and you want to wait a DAY?"
"Do you have any better ideas?" her friend demanded. "Because I'm open to suggestion. We all are." Oh yes, just as long as that suggestion didn't involve kidnapping Mark.
Slowly, very slowly, Norberta sank to her haunches. She hung her head until it nearly touched the sand. "No. Not about how to find her. But can't you hurry up with mapping our routes?" She lifted her head until it was level with Pollux's face. Their eyes were less than half a foot away. He could feel the heat of her breath. "I'm ready to leave now. Tell me where to go, and I'll be there by sunrise."
"That's the point, Norberta," he tried to explain. "We don't know where to send you yet."
She leaned closer. Her fangs were less than an inch from his face. "Figure it out. Make one route now, and add the others later. Give me something in southern England or Cornwall- something far away."
There was no arguing with a determined dragon. It simply didn't work. Grimacing, Pollux summoned a map of the British Isles, a quill, and ink.
Norberta watched closely as the human marked off a section of southeastern England. He labeled it Section 1- there was no time to be creative with naming. "Pallas, do you think that this is a reasonable amount of land for Norberta to search?"
The Indian witch leaned over his shoulder. "That looks about right, I think. It's large, but dragons are fast."
"Good." Pollux switched to Parseltongue, relating the landmarks and roads that Norberta would encounter. "When you're finished, come back here. Don't waste any time in another dragon's territory."
"Just Disillusion me already."
"All right, all right." He pulled out his wand and cast the spell. The dragon's wings snapped open, and off she flew.
"Do you think she'll find her?" whispered Alexander.
Pollux stared off after the invisible dragoness. "Merlin, I hope so."
That night, the moon rose fat and full, casting its spell on the werewolves in the Concentration Camp. They huddled together miserably in the containment chamber, stripped of their clothes and wands, waiting tensely for the transformation.
For the first time in his life, Remus Lupin looked forward to the full moon. The Chalice hadn't been at its full power, but it had done something. His senses were sharper than they'd ever been, especially smell. He felt stronger, less tired, less old.
What would happen tonight, when the moon's magic was even stronger?
The moment arrived. The werewolves collapsed, writhing in pain as their limbs twisted and fur sprouted from their bodies.
Remus fell with them. Whatever else the enchanted cup it had done, it hadn't destroyed his pain.
He expected the wolf to envelop him, and it did. But tonight, instead of losing all awareness until moonset, his mind entered a dreamlike state. He couldn't control his body, but he was aware of what it was doing. It was a dull awareness, apathetic, but it was far more than the coma to which he usually descended.
The wolf was in pain. Oh, Merlin, the pain! It was less than normal, for his human had drunk of the Blessed Waters, but it still burned in his bones. His blood was like acid, his skin like fire.
Around him, his brethren whined and cried and howled. They scratched at themselves, bit, tore, trying to alleviate the desperate pressure within them. A few attacked other members of the pack, their frustration taking over.
The wolf which shared Remus's mind curled up in a corner, tossing and turning, trying to sleep. He and the human were closer-to-same, so he felt no urge to attack his own body.
He watched the other werewolves throughout the night as they whined and bled. Fur and blood coated the floor, mingling with old fur and dried blood from other full moons.
Then the moon set, and the wolf retreated to the depths of Remus's mind. The human took over, eyes wide in wonder. He stared at his unmarked body in disbelief. No injuries. No blood. For the first time since he had been bitten, he had escaped the full moon unscathed.
And next month (his breath caught), the others would too.
"Is this the place, Daphne?"
The Slytherin nodded. Both she and Hermione were in their natural forms. They stood at the crest of an Irish hill, watching the sun set. "Are you certain you want to see this?" the younger witch asked. "Last time you witnessed a rath being restored, your serpent sight went berserk."
Hermione nodded, jaw set. "I'm positive. We need to open as many raths as possible, and that means I need to control the sight."
Not even Harry had any idea how the rath-opening ritual would affect her. It was possible that she hadn't used the spell enough during the last month to be forcibly shoved into the world of auras and not-scents. On the other hand, it was also entirely possible that the magic would affect her worse than ever.
So instead of having her perform the ritual herself- who knew what harm the sight could do if it surged at the climax of the spell?- the prophesied five had decided that Hermione should tag along with one of them. If she lost control of the magic, she wouldn't be allowed to restore a rath next month. If, however, the sight remained dormant, she would risk casting the spell at the next full moon.
That was why she was here with Daphne instead of safe and snug in her bed.
"Time to start," the younger witch murmured.
The two friends darted down the hillside. They paused at its foot. Daphne strung her bow, nocked an arrow, aimed. She drew the string as far back as she could and fired.
Had she been aiming at an actual target, she would have missed. The Slytherin girl was worse than all of them at archery, possibly because she'd had the least practice. But the ritual did not require perfect aim; all it needed was enough force for the arrow to clear the mound.
Daphne repeated her actions twice more: nock, draw, fire.
The sky grew darker, but the young witch ignored it. She set off to circle the hill. She clutched a vial, filled with something like water but very different, in her hand. As she walked, she poured the crystalline liquid into her footsteps. It glowed like captive starlight.
Hermione waited, occasionally glancing at the fading sun. The serpent sight hadn't done anything yet, but she knew better than to let her guard down. The ritual wasn't done yet.
Daphne reappeared. She trotted to the place where her walk had begun. She was chanting softly, Gaelic words of power. The hairs on Hermione's neck tingled.
The witch grimaced, unsheathed an ornate silver dagger. Forcing out the chant through gritted teeth, she slashed the knife across her palm. Blood splashed onto the ground, followed shortly by the knife itself.
Hermione's entire body tensed.
Light that was not light flamed, searing her eyes. The taste of something ancient and wild coated her tongue. She staggered, fell to her knees. A door slammed open, and magic entered the world.
Hermione gasped, choked. A vortex opened underneath her feet. She teetered on its brink. Otherworldly music played on the edge of her hearing.
And then the knight was there, an orange-eyed man on a white horse. He grabbed her by the hand, pulled her onto his horse. And they were off.
Daphne stared after them. Her jaw hung open in a rare loss of composure. First Saysa, now Hermione?
The Ravenclaw clung to the knight's back. Beneath them, the strong muscles of his horse bunched and expanded as he galloped through the air. The witch's eyes squeezed shut. The serpent sight was still there, and the things she could see with it made her dizzy. That, and she was terrified of heights.
Fear not, Messenger of Truth. I shall not let you fall.
The steed slowed, halted. Hermione peeked one eye open. Her heart rate slowed.
The horse stood on the shore. Waves crashed against the stony ground, steady as the beat of a drum.
"Why did you bring me here?" Hermione whispered. She remembered all the stories, both Wizarding and Muggle, about the fate of those who rode with the Fae. She didn't think that the knight would do anything to her- his queens needed Harry's help to restore the raths, and he wouldn't do anything if Hermione had been taken- but one never knew with the Sidhe.
Orange eyes laughed at her. For the joy of the ride. She shuddered. Those eyes… her serpent sight was still active, and those eyes burned like twin suns. She couldn't look at them.
The horse leapt into the air. It ran more slowly this time, lower, close enough to the ocean that its legs grew damp with sea spray.
Hermione looked down, careful to avoid the faerie knight's candle-like gaze, and gasped. Magic rippled across the sea, a stream of light. It was thin now, barely a trickle, but it grew stronger and wider and faster before her very eyes.
Do you hear the singing?
She did. On the very edge of her hearing, a chorus of angelic voices crooned their song. If she strained, she could almost make out the words. Smiling, all fear forgotten, Hermione looked once more into the creature's eyes. For a single moment she met his gaze- and then she remembered the effects it had on her.
Memory spawned reality. The orange warmth strengthened beyond mortal ken. Nausea bubbled in her stomach. The serpent sight lurched, crawling back inside her. The singing fell silent.
Disappointment shone in that fiery gaze. Think, but think not. Feel. Only then will you solve the riddle.
Her breath caught. She choked, forced down bile. "W-what do you mean?"
The stallion turned, rose. They galloped through the darkening sky, leaving a thin trail of starlight behind them. Hermione shut her eyes once more, terrified that her serpent sight would flare again and make her vomit.
Then the horse dove. Its human rider screamed, grabbed the knight in a desperate embrace. Their mount stopped.
"Hermione!" yelled Daphne, running towards them. Her call was spoken aloud, a human voice instead of the faerie knight's inhuman telepathy. "Are you all right?" A warm hand- human flesh- gripped hers.
"I'm fine," she whispered. Not daring to open her eyes, she dismounted.
The stallion whinnied as it turned toward the now-open rath. Its rider raised an arm in salute, though only Daphne saw. She saluted back, not knowing what else to do.
Think, but think not. Feel. Only then will you solve the riddle.
And he was gone.
...I don't think that Hermione will be allowed to play with the Fae anymore. Just saying.
Reminder: the poll about Blaise's Animagus form is still up on my profile. Also, a couple new chapters have been added to Behind and Between.
-Antares