Chapter 2: The Called
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The ghostly owls not only flew across the skies of the UK and beyond, but into the Afterlife.
He had no frame-of-reference of, well, anything. He was suddenly wasn't, to being suddenly aware. He knew that wherever he had been, it had not been pleasant. There had been no Eternal Rest. There were no Elysian Fields. There was…nothing. A void. All he knew, for sure, was that he kept remembering Granger trying to save his life; wiping away blood and froth as his last breaths caused blood to foam through the gaping wounds of his horrifically torn neck. His last thought, was that someone so good should have been treated better in life…
In front of him, a tableau played out… Of a life ended much too soon, a life what met such an ending… A voice, one that he only heard in his mind, but never distinct words per se, will you avenge her?
Did he have it within him to accomplish such a task? He was certainly capable. He possessed a single-mindedness that rivalled few others. He was also circumspect enough to consider all other variables that would be in-play, as such an endeavor was underway.
Yes, he decided. For someone who should have accomplished more in her life than a tombstone in a cemetery,
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A ghostly owl alighted on the perch in Minerva McGonagall's receiving room. Flummoxed, she couldn't grasp how late the…owl?,,,must have been sent for it to have arrived a least two hours after the evening edition of the Daily Prophet!
Approaching with an air of impatience, she plucked the scroll from the owl's leg. Instantly, the owl disintegrated into smoke!
Hand to her heart, she read the single line of script: Will You Avenge Her?
Immediately, Minerva knew exactly whom this missive referred to. A young woman who was like a granddaughter to her.
"Aye. I will stand for her."
With that, Minerva McGonagall did what was supposed to be impossible: portkey out of Hogwarts Castle.
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In a greenhouse on the Hogwarts grounds, Neville Longbottom was prepping for tomorrow's third period class for the students' repotting project. To his astonishment, an owl flew through one of the glass panels and came to rest naught five feet from him.
In its talons was a scroll.
Approaching carefully, he separated the scroll from the bird. He jumped back when the animal dissolved!
He read the writing on the parchment.
Good. It was about time that someone had Summoned Olde Magicks.
"I will attend."
His students were going to be without one of their favorite professors the next day.
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In the ether, Remus Lupin's awareness had not been engaged. Now, his thoughts dwelled on a life of half-hearted attempts to connect to another witch, wizard, man, and woman that he'd interacted with during his not-quite forty years of life. Even his wife, who was nowhere near him, he had a level of disconnect. Hence the reason why he was able to consider leaving her, in her pregnant state, pregnant with his child, and having that decision sit well with him. Harry's scolding was the impetuous for him to return to Dora, but it was seeing the selflessness of Hermione Granger, as she interacted with Harry and Ron, always giving and never taking, that made his heart swell with a sense of duty. If an eighteen-year-old could have that much generosity of spirit, then her spirit deserved to live again.
In his mind, he saw her death. Nothing like that should NEVER have happened. If he had been around, he would have done everything he could do to prevent such an outcome.
Yes, he answered a question that he'd never heard asked: I will avenge her.
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Theo Nott looked around the Dell. It was one thing to instigate a Persephone's Table, but he had no idea who was going to answer the Call.
So far, Harry Potter had materialized, as had Minerva McGonagall in full tartan teaching robes and Neville Longbottom, stripped to his undershirt, fitted trousers, and Wellies.
A bolt of lightning split the air, seemingly renting the very air on the far side of the Table. Neat-as-a-pin, a disheveled man, with shoulder-length black hair and grey eyes, stepped seemingly out of the glare left in the lightening's wake. His stylishly bespoke suit was still fashionable, though clearly from an era twenty years ago…
He had no idea that the Magicks could Summon someone from the Afterlife, only that those Called could only be absolute in their resolve to do and accomplish true vengeance. It would stand to reason that Magic would on Call those who would be best served in this duty.
Harry Potter step-stumbled to where the man stood, he was completely thunderstruck to find himself in a Dell of Nine. Potter threw his arms around the man and proceeded to weep into the man's shoulder. For his part, the man clung to Potter and cradled the younger man's head.
Theo was dumbfounded to see that his former professors, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape, each clad in their funeral finery – thankfully not with robes split up the back – had emerged from the ether. He couldn't imagine how those two men slotted into the tapestry that was her life. For lack of any other place to stand, Theo drifted over to where the tall, dark-haired Potions professor stood eerily still.
From, ostensibly, thousands of miles away, Viktor Krum appeared, kitted-out in Quidditch practice gear. He was still on his broom, nearly a hundred feet up in the air, when Theo was given cause to look up, for the newest arrival. Apparently, the owl had found him while he had been in mid-flight on training maneuvers. Whatever had taken place in his life and her life, for Krum to be here, was between the man and Granger and the owl. All Theo knew, unequivocally, was that Krum's resolve was absolute. The man was a master strategist, in addition to the other attributes he would bring to their endeavor.
Four people, each with a scroll in their right hand, a blonde-haired beauty, and three redheads – most likely from the same family. He didn't know them, but he knew that they all shared and accepted the same mandate. The two of the three men were in various different robes based on their respective…professions?...with cravats untied and loose around their necks. The youngest red head was in his shirtsleeves, rolled up to his elbows and a stained apron around his neck. The woman wore a stylish modern pantsuit. Potter had recognized the four individuals and made had made his way over to greet them, while connected at the hand with the dark-haired fellow. The names Arthur, George, Bill, Fleur. and Sirius meant nothing to him. But, he would soon know them well. He appreciated that each of the four were grim-faced. Potter's exuberance was in stark contrast to the solemnness of the Dell. But, the rules were strict when it came to how and why one would Answer a Call. But, there were no such edicts on comportment between the participants. Of course, humans have every emotion available to them. It would stand that there would be some such…bonds…one-degree-of-separation…when there was such a noble reason for their assembly. The oldest man simply clasped Harry's hand and moved over to greet the dark-haired man and Lupin. The man even made his way to where he and Snape stood.
A big surprise was when Luna Lovegood neatly tipped over to the forest floor upon landing. He moved to her side immediately. He extended his arm and helped her regain her feet. Neville hurried to follow him as she found her balance. It was Longbottom who'd escorted her to the Table, and solicitously pulled out her chair for her. Her smile was genuine as she thanked him, neatly tucking her full-length tie-dyed skirt under her and brushing leaf litter from her sunshine yellow blouse.
One by one, the Twelve were now assembled. As if she were overseeing everyone, McGonagall was the last one to sit in her chair. Briefly, she saw a discomfited Snape startle when she gently placed her hand over his and gave him a solicitous nod.
As the one to send out the Messengers, it fell on Theo to coordinate from here.
"You will not be burned by the flames twining around the boughs of this Table. This was, in the most elegant of magical Callings, a true trial-by-fire. Each of you answered the question posed to you – "
"– I am ready." Krum's baritone rumbled across the length of the Table.
"– I've heard about this, but never actually seen one in person," Luna said dreamily. "Daddy should really write an article about this. Not today, mind you. And definitely not about this."
McGonagall clearly didn't recognize her surroundings – only the concept of why she was there. "I have no frame of reference for this. I grew up a half-blood and a minister's daughter…"
"This is Olde Magicks that you've invoked, Mr. Nott." Ever the educator, Snape – Severus, now – peered over the end of his hooked-nose as he gauged his former student.
Arthur leaned forward, with only the slightest of hesitations, rested his forearms on the table. With a nod to Remus, Sirius, and Snape, he became even more solemn. "It seems that you've found a path to Resurrect one who has died, though I don't know your name."
"My name is Theodore Nott. My father was Thoros Nott, a Death Eater. It was from my family's Grimoire, which came to me once my father was deposed as Head of House, that I learned of a Persephone's Table, what it did and how it was formed. I've spent the past two years organizing and finding twelve items connected to Hermione Granger, in order to Summon the Twelve who will Avenge her. My family has the nearby manor house, Quiverstone Chase, where anyone can be accommodated."
Harry's eyes were drinking in the fact that Sirius and Lupin were alive. He was still startled every time his gaze fell on Severus. Potter was beyond words, instead he just focused on the two men in way that was heart-wrenching.
Snape surreptitiously pulled at his collar, undoubtedly remembering the final moments of his previous life. "It seems as if Mr. Nott has proven his talent for ritualistic magics."
"High praise, indeed, Mr. Nott." McGonagall agreed.
"My grandmother was a Black, but from a cadet branch of Sirius' line. I grew-up with stories of these kinds of things whispered about… My sons, William and George and daughter-in-law Fleur are ready to do our parts." Arthur promised, from where he sat. "That girl was like a daughter to me. I would do this for any one of my children. It is the least that I can do for her."
"I was raised a Black, of the Family Black, but I…escaped… when I was sixteen. There are a lot of things I never learned from them or about them. Then, I was in a civil war. That is no time to do deep dives into lore."
Theo inhaled deeply, then spent his breath on an explanation of what was to come.
"We are far from done. Right now, we all share the same purpose. Now that you all are here, we need to identify The Three, the Four, and the Five. The Three will be a Witch's triumvirate, a Sacred Three of The Crone, The Mother, and The Maid. You will be arranged equidistant to each other, around the Table. The Four will be placed at the four cardinal points, North, South, East, West just beyond the Three. The Five refers to those that will make up the critical points of a five-pointed star, serving as protectors of the Three and the Four. Should any one-person falter, then the entire Ritual will fail. The Fires will burn the Woods, and we will not have a second chance to accomplish our united goal. The Twelve will magically identify the person/persons responsible for the death of Hermione Granger – however many or how few or many may have been involved. One thing we can be absolutely sure of is their culpability. ANYONE who was involved will be brought to bear our wrath. Once she has been Avenged, however that is best accomplished, the ones responsible for her death will be dealt with accordingly."
Potter, sufficiently sobered after a quietly whispered admonishment from Sirius, seemed astonishingly resolute. "Good. These people are breathing good air that she'll need later on in life."
"Well said, Harry." Equally resolute, Lupin concurred with Potter.
Bill, William, leaned back in his chair and brought his hand to his chin as he touched his gaze to each face seated at the Table. "Keep in mind that this is NOT about justice. Magic is as Magic does. This magic does vengeance."
"Witchcraft and Wizardry, working together, separate but equal. This is VERY Granger," George commented reverently.
McGonagall nodded at the youngest red head. "Well said, Mr. Weasley."
"We will begin." Theo intoned. Using his own seat as a means of stepping onto the table, he strode down to the center point. He raised his arms to the sky, murmured his invocation, and then repeated the same phrase three times. Then, he brought down his right arm and pointed to the three witches in-turn and they started to glow with a golden light.
The Crone – McGonagall.
The Mother – the blonde, Fleur.
The Maid – Luna.
Again, Theo brought up his arms. With a similar phrase, he used each arm to send Magic down the length of each side of the Persephone's Table. Immediately, Bill, Harry, Remus, and Neville emitted a silver-toned light.
"You, gentlemen, will be the Four." Theo decreed. "Harry, you will be North. Remus Lupin, you will be South. Bill Weasley, you will be West. Neville Longbottom, you will be East."
For a third time, Theo called down the Magicks. The final five persons lit with a warming blue illumination.
"Professor Snape, you will be the northern most point of the five-pointed star. Viktor Krum, you will be the western point. Arthur Weasley, your station will be the most eastern point. Sirius Black, you will be at the southwestern point. George Weasley, you will anchor the southeastern leg."
He closed the Magicks with a benediction.
"Magic will bless our unified purpose."
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