Quoth the Raven, Nevermore

Disclaimer: See chapter 1. If you don't recognize the character, chances are they are original, created by Frau and myself to promote the story. Again special thanks to Phil for his editing skills.

A/N: The history of the Tower of London is well known and well documented. We found several official sites as well as some not so official for our information.

Frau and I, in no way, wish to disrespect such a world-class historical landmark. However, this is the world of fan fiction and Harry Potter, so when two old ladies decide to ask 'what if. . . ?' anything can happen.

Chapter 2: Volume of Forgotten Lore

The Tower of London was built in the mid to late 11th century by William the Conqueror, as one massive tower with four turrets. It was added to by following monarchs until it evolved into the complex we know today. The tower's history is interspersed with vignettes of the lives and deaths of monarchs, nobles and commoners alike.

Henry the Eighth added the royal residential buildings while his daughter, Elizabeth the First, continued his use of the Tower itself as a prison and a place of execution.

The square White Tower got its name from the white stone used in its construction. Four turrets, one set on each corner, add to the cold, imposing exterior. The Tower is surrounded by a grassy park known as 'The Tower Green' which is itself ringed by two walls, both with battlements and garrets. What was once a moat is now a grassy sward encompassing the outer walls.

A heavy wrought iron gate, known as the Traitor's Gate, spans a small stream which flows into the River Thames. A walkway has since been built across the top of the gate for tourists to access the Tower complex proper.

The once mighty fortress is more like a city within a city and is a favored tourist attraction. Many myths and legends cling to the Tower, some true, some fictitious, but each undeniably adds to the fascination of the place.

Surprisingly, to those not aware of the rich history of the Tower complex, it is a place with a very brutal, gory past and the ghosts of the Tower serve as haunting proof. Over 200 departed souls call the Tower home, including a two queens, a pair of young princes and a proven wizard or two. There have even been reports of a bear spirit that escaped the menagerie the Tower once sported.

0O0o0o0

The night was clear and crisp for a spring evening as a full moon rose over the Tower, bathing it's white walls in eerie luminescence. Only a few brave guards patrolled the grounds, checking to see that all the locks were in place. A guard had to be careful, as from time to time, they would be surprised by one of the ghostly denizens that haunt the Tower.

However, tonight they didn't need to worry. Several silvery mists consolidated inside the Chapel Royal of St. Peter ad Vincula located on the green. Many prominent members of the nobility and more than a few ignobles have taken their final rest within the chapel's stone walls and floors. Tonight, it seemed they were restless.

One ghostly figure came into full corporeal presence where the priest or chaplain would stand to give an eulogy. She was dressed in an ornate 16 century gown of velvet and silk marred by glittering silver stains. She carefully set her separated head on her slender neck as she stepped to the lectern. From her regal bearing to her manner of dress, she looked much like she had when she was alive. Queen Ann Boleyn, one of the most famous of Henry the Eighth's wives, waited for those gathered to still.

The rest of the ghosts, ghouls and spirits that haunt the Tower filled the many pews and perching spots around the raised pulpit.

Two small boys took form in front of her, dressed in white sleeping gowns, clutching each other. Even in death they refused to be parted. These were the two boy princes that had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the throne of England open for Richard the Third to claim.

Both smiled up at the ghostly queen, giggling as if they had a secret to tell.

"What is it, Prince Edward?" the spirit of Anne Boleyn asked kindly of the taller of the pair. "Why have you summoned us?"

"There is a new raven in the Tower, if it please your Majesty," commented the little prince who was meant to be king. "It's very hurt. 'Tis only a babe. The Yeoman Warders are not certain 'twill live."

"If it please your Majesty?" came the cultured voice of another spirit, as he stepped forward, going down on one knee.

"Yes, my friend? Oh, do rise Sir Walter!" Queen Anne commanded with an elegant flick of her wrist as she smiled regally at the spirit. "We know the dampness bothers your knees."

"I believe this little one was brought to us for a reason, Your Majesty." interjected Sir Walter.

"How so?" Her majesty turned back to Prince Edward.

"There is a strangeness about him we cannot place." announced Edward, looking to his brother for agreement. He continued at his sibling's nod, "Mayhap we should seek the wisdom of the Goddess?"

"My thought exactly Majesty." said another spirit coming forward. He was dressed in a scholarly robe and wearing a pointy wizard's hat. "The wards around the Tower are pulsating. They sense something is amiss. It is worrying."

The other ghosts and spirits nodded in agreement, looking to their queen for answers.

"Very well," Queen Anne conceded as she faded from view. "We shall call upon the Dark Lady." Turning to the little princes, she smiled. "Pray, keep us informed."

0o0o0o0

As dawn broke, the fledgling stirred carefully. To Ben's eyes he looked like a different bird. There was the beginning of a spark in the black eyes and his body no longer shivered from cold and shock. The first night had been stressful, but the bird had survived.

Because of his job as caretaker of the ravens at the Tower, Ben was the best man to care for an injured bird. In this case, it was an injured fledgling. Whenever there was a sick raven Ben was relieved of his other duties until either the raven would recover, or it didn't need his services any longer.

The simple fact of the matter was the fledgling needed to be fed medicine and food every two hours because of its young age and fragile condition. Ravens were normally hardy birds, but even they could succumb to disease and injury and they were especially vulnerable to the cold at this age.

The ravens of the Tower had a special duty to perform, for it was prophesied that if they left the Tower, the monarchy would fall. For this reason, the raven masters' sole purpose was to care for their feathered charges.

Ben thanked the Goddess that Maggie's 'special tonic' seemed to be working. Most of the scratches were healed. The broken wing was also on the mend. He hoped that the little scrapper would be able to fly when it came time.

Ben sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. Not for the first time he wished he had her talents, but for a strange quirk of fate, he to might have shared her gifts. That didn't mean he resented her abilities. He thought the world of her and never once in their long life together had he envied her talents.

His gaze turned to the changing colors outside the window signaling that dawn was near. He prayed that the fledgling would continue to improve now that they were over the first hurdle.

0o0o0o0

He was warm and the pain wasn't as overwhelming as before. Hunger, a constant in his young life up to this point, was slowly making itself known once more. He distinctly remembered his tummy felt full last night. How did that happen?

Suddenly he was lifted out of the warmth. 'Wait! Put me back! Put me back!' Fear made him struggle weakly.

A voice low, and deep, spoke to him, urging him to do something. Hands, huge but kind, ran softly over his body checking him over. He didn't think it was his uncle. His uncle's hands were never gentle or warm. They were hard and rough and caused a lot of pain. No, these hands cupped him protectively, and for some reason he felt safe in them.

What happened to him? The last thing he remembered was running away from his cousin and wishing that he could just fly away. He remembered hearing a woman's voice telling him to, ". . . fly away little raven, fly away." He'd fluttered as far as his small wings could take him, then pain, lots of pain. He remembered being hit and tossed around and scratched, then being wrapped in a strange cloth and being tightly enclosed in a stuffy place. A lot of noise and smells. He hadn't liked it.

Now he felt safe and warm. He didn't hurt anymore. Would he be fed again? He wasn't used to being fed so often. He wished he could see who was taking care of him. He wanted to thank them.

Something round and hard was thrust into his gaping mouth. He tried to fight it at first. He didn't like it until warm goodness oozed out, filling him with more warmth. It tasted wonderful! Is this what food is supposed to taste like? He liked it! He protested when whatever it was, was taken away from him. His head wobbled back and forth, seeking the source of food again.

A low rumble sounded above him as a gentle hand ran over his body. For some reason it reassured him. " There's no reason ta fret, you'll not go hungry here."

He drifted back to sleep. Yes, he liked it here. The huge hands lowered him back into warm, soft, darkness.

0o0o0o0

"How is he, Ben, dear?" Maggie asked, as Ben covered the fledgling after giving him a morning feed.

"He made it through the night," he assured her as he plopped back into the over stuffed chair. "He's quite a little scrapper and I owe it all to you, Maggie, my love."

She blushed as she peeked into the make-shift nest. "Ravens are Her Avatars, and She would be displeased to see any fall." She straightened, readjusting her dressing gown. "Do you want breakfast now? Or do you want a bit of a rest?"

He smiled tiredly as he pulled her into his lap. "I miss cuddling up to you, Maggie, my love."

She slapped his chest playfully, blushing. "Get on with ye, Ben McIntyre! Ye would think you never cuddled up afore!"

She chastened him fondly, slipping playfully into his soft brogue.

Ben hugged her. Looking over at the nest, his face turned serious. "The little princes peeked in last night." Both knew that the ghosts don't bother the warders quarters often. They stay around the White Tower and chapel for the most part.

"Oh dear," Maggie straightened. "Do I need to strengthen the wards again?"

He shook his head. "No. They were curious for the most part. They felt a disturbance in the wards and came looking. They said they had to report it?"

Maggie frowned. "So do we need to expect a visit from Her Majesty?"

"Not yet. According to the pair, she's taken a wait and see attitude." Ben let out a huge jaw popping yawn. "Sorry."

"Why don't you get a bit of rest, Ben, dear? I'll make some coffee and breakfast."

As Maggie moved to the kitchenette for breakfast, the little fledgling slept on.

0o0o0o0

It is interesting what you can find on the 'Net about Ghosts and the Tower. Frau and I will try to stay as true to both canons but please remember this is fan fiction. We are firm believers in artistic license.

Thanks for the reviews. We will try to answer your questions either at the end of a chapter or private means. We are getting most of our facts from the Internet and from Phil, who is doing a great job of helping us Yank Ladies not to make too many faux pas in British-isms.

Until next time. - GF and the Frau.