A/N 2: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Holly Evans and the Spiral Path" by wordhammer. This is the longest, most detailed, and certainly darkest FemHarry story out there. I can't really say much without giving away too much about the plot. It's a good, strong story, but it's not for the faint of heart.

Chapter 26 - Rhiannon

Tuesday, November 2, 1995, Morning.

The entire Great Hall was buzzing over the headline in the Daily Prophet:

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT!

"I'm surprised they were willing to print that story," Hannah said to Susan. "Even before this past summer, they were never too keen on publishing anything that might make the Ministry look bad. But recently..."

"True," Susan agreed, "but this story was way too big to ignore. And too many people were at the trial. Word would have gotten out, and the paper would have looked bad for suppressing this. I know my auntie has been trying to arrange for this trial for a while now."

"Still no trouble with letters going back and forth?" Hannah asked.

"Nope," Susan said as she shook her head. "So far the Ministry spells she put on our owls are preventing any Ministry employees from interfering. Don't know how long that will last, but I intend to take advantage of it while I can."

Hannah nodded as she kept reading. "Hey," she suddenly said, "look at this — it says that Sirius Black is Jasmine's godfather!"

"Let me see," Susan replied, pulling the paper closer so they could both read it. "You're right, he is."

"I wonder why she never said anything," Hannah remarked with a frown.

"I'm not surprised," Susan said as she looked over to where Jasmine, Hermione, and their fellow Gryffindors were happily reading the same story. "I mean, it was pretty explosive information, and I'm sure she didn't want anyone suspecting that she might know where he was."

"I'll bet she did!" Hannah said excitedly. "Do you think maybe she helped him?"

Susan shrugged. "Maybe. If so, that's even more reason not to tell anyone — especially me, given who my auntie is. Some secrets you can't trust with anyone, no matter how good of a friend they are."

"I don't know," Hannah said slowly. "I'll bet Hermione knew. Ron might have as well, but I'm sure Hermione did. I don't think they keep anything from each other."

Susan looked more closely at the interaction between Jasmine and Hermione and gave some thought to their behavior over the past few years.

Tuesday, November 2, 1995, Evening.

It was obvious that the witches in the study group had been on edge throughout the Tuesday evening training session. Even Neville and Blaise could see that something had them distracted, though they had no idea what it was. Jasmine and Hermione finally decided to finish up early so they could be sure to get the coming conversation over with before curfew.

"Alright," Jasmine said once the witches were alone, "let's have it."

"What happened Sunday night?" Padma demanded. "I've never heard of anything remotely like that, and I've tried to read a lot on magical rituals. Samhain was one of the few that I actually found decent information on."

"Your eyes were glowing!" Susan said. "Glowing! They weren't doing that on the Autumnal Equinox or on Midsummer's Eve, were they?"

"No, definitely no glowing eyes," Tracey chimed in. "But let's not forget, oh, the massive amounts of magical power swirling around us? Standing at the base of a giant bloody tornado of magic?"

"OK, settle down," Hermione called out as she raised her hands. "There are some things we can say and other things we can't. Some things are... well, a bit too personal." When she saw the looks they were giving her, she added, "It's not that we don't trust you, but... well, they're things we've only told a couple of people. When we do decide to tell others, you'll be among the first."

"Do any of you know Occlumency?" Jasmine asked.

"I've gotten some training in it," Susan replied, "but I don't get a lot of practice except with Hannah."

"Same here," Daphne said. Tracey and Padma nodded as well.

"We know for a fact that there are at least two teachers in the castle that know Legilimency and at least sometimes use it on students: Snape and Dumbledore," Hermione said, getting gasps of shock from the others. "It will be easier for us to tell you more if you get better with Occlumency — at least to the point where you can detect someone trying to enter your mind so you can break eye contact. We should have thought to bring this up before. There are enough of us here that we should be able to get in lots of practice with each other." All of the girls looked troubled but were more than willing to get the extra help.

"As far as Samhain goes," Jasmine said, "the short answer is: we don't know for sure. No one knows for sure, in fact. There is, however, a theory. Something similar happened back at Bel... aw, sod it — Beltane. We went to Beltane, OK? Anyway, something similar happened then, and it surprised the veela who were there. It was big because they expected something better than what they usually experience, but it went way beyond anything they'd ever even heard of."

"Of course they tried to figure out why," Hermione continued. "You already know that the veela believe that the goddesses they honor during a ritual will, if they are pleased with the ritual, bless it by enhancing and multiplying the magic which the participants put into it. Some of the veela have come to the conclusion that instead of the goddesses merely blessing the magic of others, they somehow joined with me and Jasmine, contributing their magic, power, and intent to the ritual directly."

"We weren't possessed," Jasmine hastened to add. "We just had... well, passengers for a little while. Or at least that's what some of the veela believe."

"And what do you believe?" Susan asked with some trepidation.

Jasmine sighed. "I honestly don't know. I mean, before our first ritual a little over a year ago, I'd never heard of anyone today still believing in these ancient goddesses. And apparently while some veela believe these goddesses exist as independent entities, others believe that they are all aspects of a single goddess. And I suppose either situation is compatible with what Hermione and I experienced. But is that what happened?"

"There are a few things which lend a bit of credence to that theory," Hermione added. "No proof, which the veela freely admit, but I don't want you to think that they came up with that explanation out of nowhere."

All of the Hogwarts witches started arguing and debating the issue at that point. None of them found the described theory credible and were trying to come up with alternatives.

"I believe," came a soft voice that managed to cut through the din. Everyone looked over to where Gabrielle was sitting. "I believe," she repeated as she looked around at the skeptical expressions of the other girls.

"I believe in Hermione, a witch who has dedicated herself to helping others learn. How much time has she invested in discovering what's true and what's a lie? How much time has she spent helping all of you learn something you had trouble with?" As she spoke, more than one of the others looked a little embarrassed at having that pointed out. "And of course, she has spent ze most time trying to help Jasmine learn, for example to learn new spells so she could survive in zat tournament last year."

"I believe in Jasmine, a witch who has done more to save others than any other witch I know. She saved me, as you must remember. I was bound and drowning at the bottom of ze Black Lake, when a savior with fiery red hair appeared before me. She gave me air to breathe, and when my captors attacked, she didn't hesitate to fight to defend me. After she was victorious, she saved me. She brought me out of ze cold and ze dark, up into ze light."

Everyone was listening closely now, and Gabrielle focused on the ginger Gryffindor witch. "Did Jasmine not do ze same for you, Ginny? Did she not save you from ze cold and ze dark, slaying zose who wanted to harm you, then bringing you back up into ze light?" Ginny blushed and looked away, not wanting to talk about that particular experience.

"And you, Hermione?" Gabrielle went on. "In your third year, did she not save you from ze cold and ze dark when she drove off all of zose foul Dementors zat wanted to suck out your souls? Did she not lead you back up into ze light when you rode ze hippogriff?" Hermione gaped at the younger veela, never having thought about things in quite those terms.

Gabrielle gazed around at everyone, all of whom looked more thoughtful than skeptical now. "I believe in zem both, and I believe zat zey will save us all." She raised a hand to stop Jasmine's inevitable protest. "Of course zey will need help. No heroine achieves victory without help. But while zey will need zeir friends, zey will still be ze ones to do what ze rest of us cannot. And zey will do it because zey have been touched by ze goddesses. Zey will do it because zey have been chosen by ze goddesses to fix what has been broken, and we will help because zey have chosen us... because we have been found most worthy to help zem fulfill a sacred destiny."

Once Gabrielle was done, she looked defiantly at the others, silently daring them to question or deny anything she'd said. None of them did, though. They didn't quite believe her, but what she'd said had touched them in a way that prevented them from being quite so skeptical, either.

Thursday, November 4, 1994, Very Early Morning.

Albus Dumbledore was surprised to see Professor McGonagall come marching into the hospital wing so early in the morning. The reason became apparent, however, when she reversed the disillusionment charm she'd placed on the stretcher floating behind her.

"It finally happened, then?" he asked.

"Within the past few hours," she responded. "One of the house elves assigned to check on him notified me."

Dumbledore gingerly rose from his bed and approached the stretcher as Madam Pomfrey began casting her diagnostic spells. It had only been a couple of days, but Cornelius Fudge looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't shaved, his hair was a mess, he looked rather gaunt, and... "Oh, my," Dumbledore said as he held his nose. "He didn't bother bathing, I take it?"

"He didn't even bother with cleaning charms, it seems," Pomfrey replied.

"That's why I levitated him behind me instead of in front of me," McGonagall said grimly, "and I still had to cast a numbing charm on my nose."

"He'll be alright, at least," Pomfrey finally said. "For the most part, he's only suffering from exhaustion. Some food and rest are all he needs."

"How long until he's on his feet?" McGonagall asked.

"A day at least," Pomfrey answered. "But a good Healer would try to keep him in bed until the weekend."

"Which means he'll be back at work on Monday at the latest, but possibly as early as tomorrow," Dumbledore said. "I feel quite awful having done this to him. Looking at him now, it makes me wonder if we did the right thing."

"That's not something you need to worry about," McGonagall replied. "Remus ensured that this would be more his fault than ours."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely intrigued. He'd not had a chance to find out what exactly had been done.

"According to Remus," McGonagall explained, "if you or I had tried reading those papers, we would have soon become bored and given up. It was only because Fudge was so incredibly paranoid and suspicious that he kept at them until he collapsed."

"Charmed with a self-reinforcing intent loop?" Dumbledore asked.

"Exactly," McGonagall said. "What's more, he won't be able to remember any of it. Oh, he'll remember spending a lot of time digging through her notes and being frustrated at not finding anything, but that's it. In the end, he'll be annoyed at her for wasting his time and allowing Sirius to go to trial, but he won't be suspicious of anyone having deliberately delayed him.

"Clever," Dumbledore replied. "I'm not sure I would have thought to use something like that — to use his own worst nature against him for our benefit." He looked down again at the man, then said, "I guess that alleviates some of my guilt, but not all of it. For all his faults, I cannot ignore our own part in this.

"His short-term suffering and inconvenience will hopefully be outweighed by the good which Madam Bones has been doing," McGonagall offered.

"At one time, that probably would have assuaged my conscience quite readily," Dumbledore said slowly. "Recently, however, it has been suggested that I may be too ready to allow others to suffer in pursuit of my goals, however important they may be."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at that, but the Headmaster simply shook his head, unwilling to go into greater detail. "I suppose I should send Madam Bones a message, at least."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "It's official procedure to notify the head of the DMLE when the Minister for Magic has been incapacitated for any reason. Do take your time, though, as the law in question doesn't specify a time frame."

He smiled as she headed for the hospital wing's fireplace instead of casting a patronus while he went back to his bed. It was taking him a long time to fully heal — apparently there had been a dark magical discharge from the explosion which had overwhelmed his shield and done something to him which was slowing his recovery. Fortunately for Umbridge, she hadn't been hit by any of it and was expected to be back at work by Friday — just in time for her office to be cleaned up properly.

Dumbledore had debated telling Madam Pomfrey about the true nature of the object which had exploded, just in case that information would help her treatment of him, but decided that it wasn't worth allowing more people to learn such a dangerous secret.

Friday, November 5, 1994, Late Afternoon.

Voldemort woke slowly. Due to a habit he'd developed while still living in the orphanage, he avoided giving any outward indication that he was awake. Instead, he allowed himself to gradually become alert, reaching out with his senses to learn where he was and what was going on around him. All he could remember from before losing consciousness was an incredible pain, and he immediately began to catalog the soreness he felt all over his body.

What train ran Us over? he wondered briefly before realizing that there was one other person in the room and that they were probably asleep. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, recognizing that he was in his bedroom, though it was dark. He then sat up and in the process discovered that all of the soreness he had when he first awoke seemed to fall away. He suddenly felt much better than he had in months. He flexed his fingers, rolled his head around his shoulders, and twisted his torso. Yes, We feel good.

He reached around behind him and took his wand, pleased to find it beside his bed where it was supposed to be. He silently cast Lumos, but was disappointed to find that his magic wasn't any better than it had been before.

Almost immediately, Severus Snape's gaunt face appeared out of the gloom as he knelt down next to the bed. "My Lord," he said.

"Explain, Severus," Voldemort commanded. "What happened?"

"I do not know the details, my Lord," Snape answered. "One of your servants heard screaming in your throne room when you were known to be alone. By the time he reached you, you were unconscious, so he immediately sent word to me. I came as quickly as I could."

"Who was that?"

"Marcus Flint, my Lord."

"He's to be given greater responsibilities from now on," Voldemort said. "How long were We unconscious this time?"

"It's been almost five full days, my Lord, the longest yet," Snape replied. "I've been working almost nonstop trying to find a way to revive you. My most recent potion—"

"Seems to have been a success," Voldemort interrupted. "Or a partial one, at least."

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

"We haven't felt this good in almost a year, Severus," Voldemort said. "There's no more pain, not even a little. It's been rare that We haven't had to deal with it, and any respite has never lasted long — nor has it ever been due to any action We have taken. If it lasts this time, you will be richly rewarded."

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape said quietly.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. After such a compliment, the man should have been positively giddy; instead, he seemed tense, which was unusual for him. "What are you not telling Us, Severus?"

Snape's jaw tightened, which only made Voldemort more suspicious. "My Lord, you weren't alone in your throne room when you were found unconscious. Your familiar was by your side, also unconscious."

"And what happened to her?" Voldemort asked dangerously.

"She still hasn't awakened, my Lord," Snape said. "My efforts haven't worked as well on her as they have with you. She injured herself before she lost consciousness, and I don't know how to heal her properly."

Voldemort launched himself out of bed. "Take Us to her. Now!"

Saturday, November 6, 1995, Afternoon.

Apolline felt a bit like a schoolgirl called before her headmistress as she and Adrienne sat before the Theledrion, preparing to answer questions about their report on the events of Samhain. Despite the fact that the entire operation had been approved by them, most of the witches sitting on the other side of the table looked uncomfortable with what they had read. The fact that Adrienne was next to her instead of on the other side of the table with her fellow council members both comforted and unsettled her.

"We've all read through your report several times," Margaux said, "and we have a number of concerns. The biggest is the one which divided us when we first debated your plan, namely that you may be interfering with prophecy by taking such large steps—"

"And as I argued in my original proposal," Apolline interrupted, "moving the ritual site around is a good idea regardless of what the prophecy does or does not say. Even the less powerful rituals produce significant magical benefits for all the land and creatures surrounding the site."

"And you don't think that deliberately encouraging such results will impact how the prophecy unfolds?" Celeste asked.

"Almost anything those two witches do might affect how prophecy unfolds," Apolline pointed out, "but once we got involved in holding rituals with Miss Potter and Miss Granger, we became committed to continuing down that path. We owe it to them and to ourselves to do our best with the rituals going forward, and I don't think we could possibly do any better than to spread the obvious benefits as widely as possible."

"The impact on the surrounding land is quite impressive," Anaïs said as she read from the report. "There's been a massive upswing in the fairy population, with new fairy mounds and fairy circles popping up all over. Almost every large body of water has an active kelpie population now, and there have been reports of numerous selkies along the coast. The wooded areas have experienced a growth in the pixie populations, too. And that's merely the magical creatures that the goblin scouts were able to spot. Both magical and mundane plant growth are way up, despite how late in the year it is, and magical plant growth is practically off the scale. Aside from that, the scouts report that the local ley lines all seem to have increased in power — and that the power growth hasn't stopped, either. All of the local magical sites, including other nearby ancient stone circles, are all registering more magical power than before, too."

Apolline was surprised when Adrienne decided to speak up. "I think that, regardless of whether you believe that the goddesses are using the Chosen Couple as vessels or not, the results of these rituals can only be happening with their blessings, correct? In that case, we should welcome and encourage these rituals, otherwise we'd be putting ourselves in the position of actively trying to avoid doing something we know the goddesses want." Members of the Theledrion looked back and forth at each other, murmuring.

"That would be hard to argue against," Margaux said slowly, "but what is your point?"

"We don't know the source of the prophecy, whether it was the goddesses or Magic itself," Adrienne admitted, "but either way, do any of you truly believe that the goddesses would seek to interfere with this prophecy?" Most of the other witches looked a bit surprised at that question, apparently not having thought to ask it before. "If for some reason they were trying to interfere, I'm sure they'd succeed without our help — not that I'd want to try stopping them. Would you?"

Apolline smiled at Adrienne, then noticed that several members of the Theledrion were smiling themselves. Not all, of course, but it was only a matter of time. She suspected that the more recalcitrant members had been having trouble reconciling their desire to encourage the rituals with their adherence to strict rules regarding the handling of prophecy. Now, though, Adrienne had handed them all an easy way out.

Margaux sighed heavily. "That argument occurred to me this morning as I was preparing for today's session." At Apolline's surprised expression, she said, "Don't look at me like that — you know how I am. Just because an easy answer presents itself doesn't mean I'm going to leap at it. We need to debate this, and some of us need to try to argue against what Adrienne has said, no matter how appealing it is. If it's the right answer, it will survive the criticism and possibly be stronger for it. If it's not the right answer, we'll find out and be able to move on without having made a serious mistake."

Thus began a long and spirited debate that lasted well into the night.

Saturday, November 6, 1995, Evening.

Voldemort sat beside Nagini, at a complete loss as to what to do. He could still feel the familiar bond with her, but it was weakening steadily, which told him that she was dying. He thought he should feel more of a connection to her because he'd made her a horcrux soon after he'd regained a body, but that was absent completely — probably because of how close her death was.

He gritted his teeth in barely suppressed rage. Losing a familiar was bad enough, but losing a horcrux was inconceivable — and given the problems he'd been having with his magic, he dared not try again. We probably shouldn't have done it so soon after regaining a body, and certainly not with her, he lamented. But We needed one more... and will again soon, probably, but that will have to wait.

As she took her final breaths, he stretched out a bone-white hand and stroked her head, wishing that there was something he could do. Death takes you, my dear, but I swear that it shall never take Lord Voldemort!

Sunday, November 7, 1995, Afternoon.

Professor McGonagall sighed as she poured tea for herself, then looked at Jasmine and Hermione. "Quite a lot has happened this past week," she said. "I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I've been incredibly busy. It took some effort to set aside time for this."

"Your being so busy," Hermione said, "is it related to what's been going on with Professor Dumbledore and Umbridge?"

Minerva's tea cup stopped just shy of her lips. "How did you know about that?" she asked.

"We didn't," Jasmine said with a grin. "Not until now, at least."

"We suspected, though," Hermione added quickly. "They've both been absent all week, and that's unusual."

Minerva pursed her lips in annoyance. "Well, since you've already figured so much out on your own... yes, it is related to them. And to your godfather. The Headmaster and Madam Umbridge were both injured in some sort of accident. We used that unfortunate event to our advantage and helped ensure that Sirius got his trial. Both the Headmaster and Umbridge are out of the hospital wing, though the Headmaster will need time to recover fully."

She held up her hand to stop the questions she could already see being formed. "No, that's all I'm going to tell you. You're lucky I told you that much — you don't need to know the details. Now, Miss Potter, have you heard from your godfather?"

Jasmine swallowed the dozen or so questions that had been on the tip of her tongue and said instead, "We've exchanged a couple of letters. Hermione and I weren't sure we'd be able to, what with Umbridge threatening to monitor the mail and Hedwig getting injured. But it turns out that Dobby and Winky can carry letters, so we use them."

Minerva nodded in approval. "That's good. It will take time for Sirius to recover from his experiences, but he's already doing remarkably well."

"He's also said that I can live with him now," Jasmine said. "Well, he already said that before, back at the end of third year in fact, and then he said it again this summer after he learned that I had been lucky enough to be kicked out by the Dursleys. But now that he's been declared innocent, it's official. And, you know, legal and all. We don't have to hide or anything. Well, except from Voldemort, but that goes without saying."

Hermione reached out and stroked Jasmine's arm, glad to see her so happy and excited about someone else wanting her in their life.

Minerva smiled, also pleased that this particular chapter of Jasmine's life was getting a happy ending. "Now then, we simply must talk about what happened at that ritual," she said next. "It was clear to me that quite a lot more was going on than occurred during any of the previous rituals I attended — yet at the same time, not everyone was surprised by this. The other students were, but not you and not any of the veela. I was a bit too shaken up at the time to ask, and then you left quickly, but I need to know what is going on. I cannot approve of the other students continuing to participate in these events otherwise."

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other in surprise, since neither had considered the possibility that their professor would see the unusual nature of the ritual as problematic.

"We're sorry you didn't know," Hermione started. "We only learned about the potential for something unusual occurring a few days before. It wasn't certain that it would happen, and even then it was expected to be like what happened on Beltane — a ritual that apparently created massive benefits for all involved. So it never occurred to us to warn anyone."

"Also, we were rather preoccupied," Jasmine said. "Aside from the extra visit to my parents graves, we had, uh, planned for that night to... um, well, finalize our bond."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Finalized? You've finalized your bond? That's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you two. I'm not surprised you were preoccupied! Do you feel any different?"

Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other again. "We feel... better," Hermione answered, groping for words. "It's as if we're more awake or something. More aware. Everything seems clearer, like it's in sharper focus. We're also more aware of each other — where the other is, what they are doing, etc."

"Anyway," Jasmine went on, "we may have an explanation for the extra power behind the rituals, but I'm not sure you're going to like it..." She then explained about the veela beliefs regarding the goddesses and their use of the two Gryffindor witches as "vessels" for more direct participation in the rituals.

By the end, Minerva could barely find words to express how shocked she was. "How certain are the veela about this?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "They admit that they don't have any proof. This is simply the best explanation their religious and political leaders could come up with. Some, though, believe strongly. Gabrielle, for example, is absolutely convinced."

"Enough of them are convinced to support moving the rituals around to new sites in the hope of recreating the effects in more places," Jasmine pointed out.

"Maybe, maybe not," Hermione responded. "Some may simply want to see the positive effects spread regardless of the exact reasons."

"I wish I knew whether you two were in any danger because of this," Minerva fretted.

"So far, it's all been positive," Jasmine reminded her. "Right now, there are plenty of other things that are more dangerous to me — like Umbridge, the Minister, the Ministry, Voldemort, Death Eaters..."

"Alright, alright, you've made your point," Minerva said. "Just... be careful. Keep me and Fleur apprised of what's going on with both of you, so if any problems develop we can get you help. Though... if what the veela say is correct, I'm not sure who we could possibly go to."

She sighed deeply, feeling very much out of her depth.

Sunday, November 7, 1995, Evening.

Apolline Delacour gazed in wonder at the contents of the large crate. "This is amazing!" exclaimed her niece Victoire.

"This is only the first crate," Apolline pointed out.

Victoire looked around the storage room in shock. "You mean these are all... I had no idea! How many are there?"

"Fifty, all told," Apolline answered. "They didn't use space expansion charms so as not to interfere with the natural magic of the items. They only used reinforcement charms on the outside in order to protect the crates themselves."

"And the contents are all the same?" Victoire asked.

"I'm not sure of the specifics," Apolline admitted, "but it's mostly hide, bones, fangs, and teeth. Oh, and some venom. Little of the soft tissue was salvageable."

"This is already worth a fortune," Victoire said. "And then once they are enchanted... you'll destroy the market for such products."

Apolline shook her head. "Unlikely, because I don't expect that a great deal will be sold on the open market. First choice for armor and weapons will go to the Chosen Couple and their coven. They owe a few pieces to whomever taught their elves how to harvest the basilisk parts, too. Much of the rest will probably be purchased by the Theledrion for the Amazzi elite. What's left won't be so much that the market will be affected, but that plus what's sold privately will fetch quite a bit of gold."

"Who's going to do the enchanting?" Victoire asked.

"With this much material to work with?" Apolline asked. "I've been in contact with all of the best houses, and every single one has cleared their schedule for the next several months. We've had to make excuses to the French government about why there would be delays on so many contracts."

Victoire grinned. "I'll bet that went over well."

"At least I didn't have to deal with it," Apolline said. "I'm surprised that some of the enchanters aren't camped out in front of my house waiting already. They all know they are not only getting something unique to enchant, but that the final products will be used by some important people, so they are looking forward to the chance to do some of the best enchanting they have ever performed... that has perhaps ever been performed by the veela."

Monday, November 8, 1995, Afternoon.

Lufestre Gydenna wasn't surprised to see Hellraiser II stay behind after the main Monday temple rituals were completed. The day before, she'd delivered the reports from Sharpaxe and herself about the Samhain ritual in England and had known that it would only be a matter of time before the queen sought her out to ask questions. Lufestre even had a good idea what some of those questions might be.

The problem was, Lufestre herself had far more questions about Samhain than she did answers.

Without the two of them having to speak a word, she led Hellraiser through the back of the temple, with the queen's personal guard keeping a respectful distance. Once they were alone in the private chambers of the High Priestess, Lufestre prepared some chojo while Hellraiser sat in one of the comfortable chairs. It had been clear to Lufestre since even before the Monday rituals started that the queen was concerned about something, and the queen's demeanor had only gotten worse as the morning wore on.

"What is it, Winny?" she asked, once she was also seated and they both had taken sips of their drinks. It had been a long, long time since she'd last used her queen's childhood nickname — short for Wynmaeg, her title before she become queen — but Lufestre thought it would get her attention and help her to focus on whatever it was that she needed.

The queen sighed. After a long moment, she said, "I was up half the night reading and rereading those reports. If it weren't for the fact that they both agreed completely on the factual details, I'd have thought... well, I'm not sure I'd have believed them."

Lufestre shook her head. "I was there and I still have trouble believing it. But it was real, as are the effects that Sharpaxe reports."

"The amount of magical power that was involved must have been staggering," Hellraiser said. "And it wasn't a one-time thing, either, since it must have been similar at Beltane. It... troubles me."

"Oh?"

"Did you sense any hostility from any of the witches, veela or human?" Hellraiser asked.

Lufestre frowned. Of all the things she thought she'd be asked about, this hadn't been one of them. "No, not at all. And from what Sharpaxe mentioned in passing, I think they were polite and respectful towards him." Hellraiser nodded silently, but when she didn't go on, Lufestre prompted, "Why?"

"It's just... I'm not used to being in a position like this," Hellraiser said heavily. "The amount of power that must have been involved is far beyond anything we can bring to bear. I have little doubt that with power like that, they could easily annihilate the Horde."

Lufestre's eyes widened at that unexpected comment. What in the name of the Great Goddess did Sharpaxe write? she wondered. Since when did this become a military issue?

"My Queen," Lufestre said, "do you think... I mean, is that really a concern? Don't we have a treaty with the veela? Have those two witches ever threatened us?"

"You don't understand!" Hellraiser said hotly. "Treaties can be broken — and they are all the time! Friends can turn to enemies at a moment's notice, and the veela aren't even friends right now. They're barely allies! With power like that at their beck and call, how could any hope to stand against them? What if the treaty is merely to lull us into a false sense of security? What if—"

"My Queen, please," Lufestre interrupted, hoping that she wasn't overstepping her bounds too much. "For one thing, I don't think that they have any such power 'at their beck and call,' as you put it. From what we can tell, that power only manifests at particular locations and particular times. I don't think they can call it down on a whim while standing on a street corner... or on a battlefield, for that matter."

Hellraiser opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it again, looking slightly mollified.

"Second," Lufestre continued, "at no point did that power manifest in what appeared to be a destructive form. Perhaps it could — I don't know for sure. Yet even as threatening as it looked, it did no more harm than knock over the witches participating in the ritual — and do note that it knocked them over. None of the goblins there felt anything more than a gentle breeze pass over us. From what we can tell, the impact of this power is all positive and creative, not destructive. Granted, we don't know that that can't change, but right now that isn't a cause for panic."

Hellraiser slumped a bit in her seat, suddenly looking far more tired than she had previously. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. It's just... every time I read the reports, I envision that vortex tearing through our Horde like a sword through parchment. We'd have no defense, especially if the power is truly from the goddesses like the veela say. I... I don't want to end up being known as the queen who ruled over the end of the goblin nation."

Lufestre reached out and took hold of her queen's hand. "I don't think that's something you need to fear, at least not right now. As a ruler and politician, it's right that you concern yourself with such scenarios; it's one more reason why I'm glad I never entered politics myself — I don't think I could handle it. But thus far everything we have asked for has been given, and everything we have been shown has been positive, has it not?" When Hellraiser nodded, Lufestre continued, "Then try to focus more on that. Speaking for myself, the power I felt on Samhain was similar to what I felt this morning while performing the rituals. They weren't identical, but they were similar. I think there's cause for optimism here."

Hellraiser smiled wanly, then took another sip of her chojo. After a long silence, she said. "Last night I had a dream. It was strange, because I don't normally remember dreams very well, but this one I remember rather clearly. It was about a goblin named Tigelwyrhte, who was favored by the Great Goddess and... and she did something, but I couldn't tell what. It was important, at any rate, and she kept looking at me, as if she expected something from me."

"Tigelwyrhte was an artisan who earned the favor of the Great Goddess through many trials and rituals," Lufestre said. "She went on to play a significant role in the formation of our temple structure and practices, but only after establishing one of the early goblin kingdoms."

Hellraiser frowned. "That sounds like an important bit of our history. Why don't I remember that?"

"Probably because you always fell asleep during ancient history class, remember?" Lufestre said with a smirk.

Hellraiser rolled her eyes. "As if anyone could stay awake in that class. Well, anyone but you." She poured herself some more chojo, then added. "If you know the story so well, why don't you refresh your queen's memory?"

"Very well," Lufestre responded. "Tigelwyrhte is said to have been an orphan who was raised in dreadful conditions. Despite the abuse she experienced at the hands of her guardians, she persevered in her studies and eventually..."

Monday, November 8, 1995, Evening.

Dumbledore had been prepared for McGonagall coming to meet with him. He'd even been prepared for her being upset. What he had not been prepared for, however, was her dumping the blasted remains of a horcrux all over his desk.

"This is what's left of whatever it was that exploded and nearly killed you, Albus," she said grimly. "I tried to get the house elves to collect them, but they refused. All but Pappy, that is, and even he only did so reluctantly, so I had to help him. It took a couple of hours, but he's sure that we managed to get everything. Even after the explosion, they fairly reek with dark magic, and I'm not surprised that the elves wouldn't go near them."

After the bits and pieces had been spread across his desk like confetti, she dropped the silk bag that had held them, leaned forward with both hands flat on his desk, and said, "What have you gotten yourself into, Albus? Why are you studying such dark magic, and why did it almost kill you?"

Dumbledore leaned back stiffly and took off his spectacles so he could rub the bridge of his nose. Perhaps I should tell someone, he thought. If something happens to me, only Sirius even knows of the horcruxes' existence... But no — I'm simply not ready to let anyone else in on some of these things, not even Minerva. The risk is too great.

After a long moment, he finally said, "Perhaps this is something I should tell you about, but the time isn't right for that." He held up a hand to stop her protest before she could say anything. "No, I understand you want to know, but there are some things I'm investigating which I simply cannot chance getting out. Suffice it to say that I'm working on something to stop Voldemort — stop him once and for all."

McGonagall stood up straight again and crossed her arms. "But you will tell me eventually, yes? Sooner rather than later?"

"Eventually, yes, if I can," Dumbledore responded. "Whether sooner or later I cannot say. I'm sorry, but to a certain degree I'm limited by how fast my own investigations go. And yes, I promise I'll be more careful in the future. I thought that the time of likely danger had passed when I received that object, but clearly I know even less than I thought I did. If it makes you feel any better, I expect there will be few chances of this happening again."

"Very well," McGonagall said, though her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn't the least bit placated. "I'll take my leave now because I know you need your rest. Do not think, however, that this conversation is completely done."

Once she was gone, Dumbledore slowly got up from behind his desk and started preparing for bed. He had hoped to track down one of the horcruxes before the holidays, but given how slow his recovery was going, he had to conclude that he wouldn't be able to do it until well afterwards.