Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists
Disclaimer: I can only hope to attain the creative brilliance of J. K Rowling.
AN: Please review. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so be kind.
AN2: This story is AU after OOTP.
Let's See What's Behind Door Number Three
Everybody gaped at the writing in the air, which faded and shimmered out of sight, leaving behind only letter-shaped traces of smoke that eventually wisped into nothingness.
Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Er…who were they talking about?" The other students looked at him as if it were extremely obvious.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Malfoy observed, rolling his eyes. "Hail, Scarhead, Heir of Gryffindor! Do you want me to kiss the hem of your robes?"
"But - but I - I'm not - " Harry stammered.
Does that make me your Chosen One? Hermione put in somewhat shyly, and her cheeks flushed prettily.
But wouldn't someone have told me if I was the heir of Gryffindor? And how would the island know that anyway?
We're dealing with very old, very strong magic, Harry. I don't think you'd be here if…someone didn't want you here.
And then, as if someone else was privy to their internal conversation, the fiery letters flared up in the room again.
The Castle of Avallach has been opened by the Faerie for the Heir. May the light of Myrddin shine upon your quest.
"Well, that certainly clears things up!" Ron quipped laconically. "What's Avallach?"
"It's another name for Avalon," Hermione supplied mechanically.
"How many names does this damn island have?" he retorted.
Harry noticed that Ginny looked pale, and he guessed that the writing in the air reminded her somewhat of bloody writing on a wall….Enemies of the Heir beware. He smiled sympathetically at her, and she flushed, embarrassed that she had been read so easily.
So, first I'm the Heir of Slytherin…now I'm the Heir of Gryffindor… Harry said jokingly. I'm sure Ron could make something really dirty out of that.
Harry! Hermione said in a scandalized tone, looking around like someone would materialize and take him to task for his blasphemy.
"So, you have another quest, Potter?" Malfoy spoke. "Who are you planning on getting killed during this one?" Harry flushed red, and Malfoy grinned, knowing he had hit a nerve.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron answered for Harry. "I've been wondering where to put your wand." Ron's withering stare made his implication unmistakable. Malfoy glowered at Ron, but there was enough sincerity in Ron's eyes to make Malfoy shut up.
"So, we're stuck here, right?" Hermione said, ticking off her points on her fingers. "We can't Apparate out, we have no portkeys, our map spells don't work, and we're in the middle of the ocean. And nobody could Apparate to us even without the wards, because they don't know where we are."
"There's my Little Miss Sunshine," Ron cracked, patting her on the head. "We don't know that anyone brought us here for something bad. Maybe we're here so Harry can learn how to defeat Voldemort." He gave Malfoy a dirty look as he said this.
"What makes you think that this had anything to do with me?" Harry protested weakly. Everyone gave him a "yeah, right" look.
"It always has to do with you, Harry," Ron answered, rolling his eyes.
"What about the writing?" Ginny said. "It talked about the Heir of Gryffindor, his Chosen One, and the Faerie. I guess it's pretty obvious that they mean Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor, but who are the other people?"
"Well…the Chosen One is…I guess it's Hermione," Ron said reluctantly, his eyes darting nervously to Malfoy, unsure of how much he should say in front of the Slytherin.
Malfoy coughed and sputtered, before beginning to laugh. "Granger? Granger is Potter's Chosen One? And I thought I was going to be sick before!"
"Just jealous because it isn't you, Malfoy?" Hermione asked sweetly, her face a mask of innocence. Ron and Harry looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and admiration.
"We could sit around and insult each other all day," Ginny's voice cut concisely through the heated attitudes rising in the room. "I think the ferret realizes that there are more of us than there are of him, and if he keeps being a prick, then we can just silencio him and lock him in a closet for the duration." She smiled sweetly at Malfoy, but there was danger in her gaze.
"Ginny!" Ron said, aghast at the crude language coming out of his baby sister's mouth.
"This castle probably has a dungeon," Luna said, adding barmily, "and if there are any Shrinking Fenkelrods, we could use them on him too." Malfoy's pallor became even more pronounced, and Harry thought to himself that he did not even want to know what exactly a Shrinking Fenkelrod did.
"We ought to take a look around," Harry said, drawing his words out slowly. "See what's here, where we're going to sleep…"
"Where the kitchens are," Ron put in energetically.
"Trust Ron to have his priorities in order," Ginny remarked sarcastically.
"Should we split up?" Hermione asked, looking to Harry. All eyes went to him, and Harry flushed uncomfortably at the leadership people seemed to always bestow upon him.
"Yeah, Ginny and Luna should go with Ron, and you and Malfoy can stay with me," Harry said, wanting either him or Ron to stay with the Slytherin.
Harry, I'll have you know… Hermione began, picking up on his thoughts, and instantly diagnosing them as sexist.
Aw, save it, Hermione! Harry complained, more sharply than he meant to. I just want someone watching him who is bigger than he is…is that okay?
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but appeared to accept his answer. If you feel that this chest-pounding, testosterone-laden competition is absolutely necessary, I'll go along with it.
The six of them walked to the entryway that they had come through earlier. Harry's group went right, and Ron's group headed to the left.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"What did you find?" Harry asked Ron, when they met back up in the large, empty room some time later. Ron shrugged noncommittally.
"Not much. A couple of rooms with old stuff in them. No kitchen," he added in disgust. "How about you?" he asked hopefully.
"There were several bedrooms - "
"-and a library - " Hermione interjectedly excitedly.
Harry rolled his eyes, "and a library," he echoed. "One door leading up to the turret was locked. We tried every spell we could think of, but couldn't get it open."
"No kitchen?" Ron asked, dismay evident in his voice. "I'm getting a little hungry!"
Before anyone could laugh at the idea of Ron being a "little" hungry, there was a flash of light and a sound similar to a thunderclap.
In the center of the room, sat a round burnished table, set for six, and laden with all manner of food. With one casual look, Harry could see a gigantic platter of roast pork sitting in the center of the table, adjacent to huge silver carafe of something that was steaming. Ron's eyes lit up excitedly, and he hurried to the table, sitting down so quickly that his chair clattered noisily across the marble floor.
"Ron!" Ginny shouted, as her brother began to dish food onto his plate. "Don't you remember anything from your second year? Never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain!"
"Such words of wisdom, Weaselina," Malfoy snarked. "And if it doesn't possess a brain at all…like your darling brother here?"
Ginny whirled on Malfoy, her high Weasley temper making her cheeks redden and her eyes flash. Ron stood to his feet, forgetting the food, in his ire.
"It's quite safe," Luna said, and that resonant tone was back in her voice again. The tips of her hair, glowing white-gold in the firelight, wafted slightly in a nonexistent breeze.
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, and took seats at the table.
If this is done by house elves… Hermione said forbodingly.
Hermione, somehow I don't think Avalon needs anybody to do things for it, Harry argued.
Now you sound like Luna, Hermione sniped, but without the normal conviction in her tone that was usually present when she talked about Luna.
They sat and ate in a somewhat strained silence. What could have been a jovial atmosphere was constrained by the mystery of their trip to Avalon and the presence of Draco Malfoy. Ron had quickly discovered that he had only to request a food or beverage, and it would appear before him with a small flash. Harry could see by his best mate's blissful face that he probably wouldn't mind if he had to stay on the island forever.
What if we really can't leave? Hermione asked, having been not so surreptitiously eavesdropping.
Then it'll be another item on the list of "Things That Are All Harry's Fault," Harry answered somewhat glumly. Hermione gave him a withering look, and ignored his last comment.
Well, there's got to be a reason that we're here, she said in a matter of fact way. It's either a good reason or a bad reason.
Thanks for clearing that up, he said sarcastically, and she rolled her eyes.
It was then that they both noticed Ron looking meaningfully at them, and flicking his head toward Malfoy, who was doing his best to ignore everyone else present.
Snape's words echoed in Harry's mind. A first year could tell you were reading each other's minds. He and Hermione exchanged sheepish glances.
We're going to have to work on that, he said needlessly.
Yeah…Hermione agreed.
When everyone had finished eating, everyone - except Malfoy, who Harry suspected was being contrary just for the sake of contrariness - decided to go on upstairs for the night. The long dim corridor was somewhat daunting, especially to the three that hadn't yet been up there. Malfoy trailed along behind, clearly trying to look casual, and not like he didn't want to be left downstairs by himself.
"Do you think we should all stay together?" Harry asked, looking at the uncertain faces of the others. Malfoy grimaced.
"As if I would share a room with any of you Gryffindor dung."
"I'm in Ravenclaw," Luna protested mildly. Malfoy made a whatever face, and strode confidently to the first door, wrenching it open. He was thrown backwards on his arse, before he could fully cross the threshold. Ron snorted and got choked.
"That's my room," Luna said, pounding Ron on the back as he doubled over, gasping.
"How do you know?" Malfoy said, getting up gingerly and rubbing his rear end. At his question, the same faint wind swirled through the hall. Realization dawned on Harry.
"You -" he began.
"Luna, you're the Faerie?" Hermione finished for him, causing Ron to roll his eyes. Luna smiled enigmatically, and suddenly looked wise beyond her years.
"I merely descend from her line…much as Harry descends from Arthur." All eyes turned back to Harry.
"But - but the - the…writing…downstairs said I was the Heir of Gryffindor," Harry protested, feeling quite confused.
"So you are," Luna said regally. "You descend from Godric Gryffindor, who descended from King Arthur himself."
Malfoy muttered something that sounded like "bollocks".
"Then who's the Faerie?" Ron asked.
"The Lady of the Lake," Luna said.
"Nimue," Hermione responded.
"Viviane," Ginny answered at the same time. Ron's eyes widened.
"Bloody hell! Did anybody just have one name?"
"Like you do…Ronald Bilius Weasley?" Ginny snorted.
"Wouldn't Harry be descended from Merlin…rather than Arthur?" Hermione asked, turning back to Luna.
"Magical blood also ran through King Arthur's veins," Luna said. "I think it has been mostly edited out of Muggle legend…but remember his sister."
"Morgan LeFay," Ginny whispered. "She was a witch."
"So that makes Granger…Guinevere?" Malfoy said, with a smirk, his glance roving around the circle. "And that makes Weaselby…"
Lancelot. The word was unspoken, yet seemed to resound loudly around the corridor.
"Don't even finish that sentence, Malfoy," Harry said. Hermione flushed crimson, and Ron looked embarrassed.
"The parallels simply are what they are. Some apply and some do not. Attaching too much meaning to them would be folly," Luna said, then added, "Just look at what happened to the Spark-winged Wood Nymphs."
Ron did a double take, and then laughed suddenly, looking relieved that Luna was once again making oddball statements. "This is all very interesting, but do you realize that we're just standing around out here? And why did Malfoy get thrown out of that room," he sniggered slightly, as if picturing again Malfoy flung backwards to the floor.
"I told you, it's my room," Luna explained patiently. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but the others appeared to take what she said at face value.
"Then, who's is that?" Ginny asked, pointing to the one across the hall. Luna opened it with a refined air.
"That's Ronald's."
"And that?" They moved on like that to the end of the hall, and almost everyone was presented with a room that did not throw them across the way.
"Where's mine?" Hermione asked quietly. Luna smiled at her, a little impishly.
"Your place is with the one who chose you," she said. Everyone froze. Ron wrinkled up his nose, and Malfoy was leering. Harry could feel the heat begin to emanate from his cheeks.
"I want a room," Hermione enunciated, a little stubbornly, her own face beginning to glow.
"There aren't any more," Malfoy grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfiture. "Unless you'd like to try one," he gestured toward his own room. "I wouldn't mind seeing you fall on your arse." Harry made an involuntary movement toward him, which Hermione checked with one upraised hand.
"Don't worry about it, Harry. I'll sleep downstairs."
"You most certainly will not!" Harry said hotly, before he thought, and danger flashed in Hermione's eyes. Ron had made a noise of protest as well, but subsided when he saw Hermione's anger.
"I most certainly will not?" she repeated, her tone politely disbelieving. Harry could feel her anger crackling toward him.
"Hermione…" Harry began, placatingly. "I'm not going to let -" he stopped to rephrase. "You shouldn't sleep downstairs alone in a strange castle, where magic is amplified. It's too dangerous."
"He's right, Hermione," Ginny said. To her chagrin, Hermione felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids.
This is so embarrassing, she admitted, giving Harry the real reason for her anger. They'll all be thinking…
When have you ever let what somebody thought bother you? Harry answered reasonably. Please…if you were downstairs alone, I wouldn't be able to stay up here, and they'd talk anyway.
"All right," she said softly. Harry stood to the side of his doorway, and gestured with one arm for her to enter. She stepped in, a little hesitantly, but nothing happened.
"See you all in the morning, then?" Harry said, trying to sound natural, daring anyone to say anything.
"Night-night, Potter. Sleep tight. Don't let the Mudbloods bite," Malfoy simpered, as the doors was shutting behind Harry. He turned back toward the door, but heard the sounds of a scuffle. Malfoy let out a cry of pain, and Harry heard him say,
"Weaselby, how about you control your sister?"
Harry grinned, but the smile faded from his face, when he saw Hermione standing uncomfortably in the center of the room, looking for all the world like she'd rather be anywhere else but there.
"Hermione?" he said, stepping uncertainly towards her.
"W - what?" she stammered. He held a hand up, as if to stroke her hair, but stopped short.
"What's wrong?"
"I - I don't - I don't know what's going on," she finally got out. "I don't like not knowing what's going on."
"We seem safe enough," Harry answered, his eyes roaming around the large chamber. A large stone fireplace was situated on the back wall, directly opposite a gigantic four-poster bed, completed with canopy and hangings. It was so high that there were two little stepstools on either side to use to climb in the bed. To one side, there was a door that Harry guessed let to a lavatory, in between two identical high, narrow windows, framed with heavy draperies. A large elaborate tapestry hung above the fireplace.
"That's not what I'm talking about," Hermione said evenly, wiping at her eyes with one sleeve. "I'm talking about this situation. What do they want of us? What are we supposed to do? What does being your Chosen One mean? Are they going to watch?"
"W - w - watch? Going to watch what?" Harry stuttered, and felt his throat close up.
"Us…" Hermione said, as if it were obvious, and then her mind picked up on where his mind was going, and her face flamed. "Honestly, Harry," she said, trying to sound normal. "Is that all you ever - ?"
"Yes," Harry finished for her, and her cheeks burned even more brightly, if that was possible.
He closed the remaining distance between them, and pulled her somewhat clumsily into his arms. She held herself stiffly, uncertainly, at first, but then allowed herself to relax against him. He breathed in the clean scent of her hair, and thought that there was nowhere else on the planet that he'd rather be.
Really? Hermione said wonderingly.
No contest at all, he answered. She looked up at him then, and their eyes locked. He felt his heartbeat accelerate, and saw her lips part in expectation.
"Harry, I - " she began, but was cut off as his lips met hers in a deep, plunging kiss. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, nearly lifting her off her feet, as he pulled her against him. She twined her arms around his neck, and grabbed onto his shirt, as if it were the only thing keeping her on her feet.
Desire flamed through him, and hers echoed back; the sensation magnified and amplified and looped back in on itself, until Harry no longer felt anything, tasted anything, wanted anything but her.
Sweet Merlin, somebody thought, and he wasn't sure who it was.
The fire flared up brightly in the fireplace, making a whooshing noise as the flame soared upward. The wood beneath splintered with a loud crack, and fell loudly onto the grate. The wind was back, and somewhere there was music, and …
Harry and Hermione broke apart with difficulty, both breathing heavily, and looked around bewildered.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, pressing her palms flush against her burning cheeks.
"The music?" Harry verified, thinking that he'd like nothing more than to throw her on the bed right that second, and…
"Harry!" Hermione said, and for an instant, Harry got the flicker of requited desire, before Hermione tamped it down. She had really gotten rather good at Occlumency. "Do you think someone is watching us?"
Harry looked around the room again, his eyes following the lines of the vaulted ceiling. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "The answer's got to be behind that door," he said, after a moment of thought.
"The door to the tower?" Hermione asked, dubiously. "Why?"
"Because it's locked," Harry said, shrugging. "Nothing else in the castle has been locked."
"Maybe Luna could open it," Hermione put in. "She opened the front door."
"She knew right where the castle was too," Harry interjected. "If the Faerie's …job…is to bring the Heir of Gryffindor to Avalon, maybe she was the one to bring us here."
"Well, why didn't she say so?" she protested, but Harry just lifted his shoulders in an I can't explain Luna Lovegood kind of way. "The magic it would take to do that…" she shook her head, and didn't complete her sentence. "How do we figure out how to get home?"
"Well, there's always the library…" Harry began.
"Hey, isn't that my line?" Hermione teased, nudging him in the ribs with one elbow. Even that casual, silly contact shot sparks through both of them. Harry took several steps away from her hastily.
"I think we ought to look at the similarities between Arthur and Gryffindor and … and …" me. It seemed so ridiculous to add himself to that distinguished list that he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Well, they both faced epic battles," Hermione began, in her best lecture voice. "Arthur against Mordred, and Gryffindor against Slytherin." She met his gaze, her eyes wide. "And you're the Heir of Gryffindor and Voldemort's the Heir of Slytherin…" She looked excited. "Oh, Harry, if we found -"
Harry smothered a smile at Hermione's ever-present thirst for knowledge. "We'll look in the morning. We ought to sleep right now." Her eyes flickered uncertainly to the bed, and then back to him.
"Okay," she agreed, rather bashfully.
They both found nightclothes inside a small cupboard in the lavatory, gender appropriate and the correct size. They exchanged glances, but no comment was made about how the castle or the island or whoever was in control knew who they were.
Harry let Hermione have the bathroom, while he changed out in the main room. He looked longingly at the bed, which was easily big enough for both of them to sprawl to their heart's content, and never touch each other at all. He grabbed an armful of the bed covers and one pillow, and began to spread them out in between the bed and the fireplace.
"What are you doing?" Hermione said huskily from behind him. He turned around, and dropped everything he was holding. She was wearing a long, white gown. It looked quite old-fashioned, but draped her body gracefully. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, and her cheeks flushed girlishly under his perusal.
"I was going to - sleep - " he said, stammering, and finally just gestured at the pile of bedding.
"You'll do no such thing, Harry Potter," Hermione said in her best no-nonsense voice. "That bed is huge. We could all six of us sleep in that bed." Harry winced.
"Mental pictures, Hermione!" He chastised her. She grinned, and clambered up into the bed, sitting up in the middle of it, and tucking her feet beneath her.
He watched her carefully, but remained where he was, standing in front of the fireplace.
I don't want to sleep on the floor. I want to sleep with you, he thought involuntarily.
I can read your thoughts, Harry, she reminded him.
Good, he said, and brought the full force of his blazing green gaze on her. A tremor shuddered through her frame.
"Harry…" she said hesitantly. "This - the way it - the way it feels when we…anything… is it - I mean, would you - " She dropped her eyes to the coverlet, and finished in an embarrassed mumble. "Would you like me anyway, even if we didn't have that link?" Her face burned brightly at the juvenile way her words sounded.
Harry was up on the bed with her in two strides, and he caught up both of her hands in his.
"Hermione," he said, his voice a protesting caress. She twisted her hands nervously, and tried to pull them out of his grasp, but his grip tightened. He closed his eyes, and she was able to briefly wonder what he was doing, before she felt the rush of his emotion.
He had swung open wide the doors of his mind and his heart to her, and she felt as if she'd been caught up in a tidal wave of feelings. It was heady and exhilarating, but comfortable and safe. It was the adrenaline rush of fear and giddiness; and it was being safe and warm, wrapped up in something comforting and cherished.
She felt his love for her, pure and undiluted. It surrounded her, it enveloped her, it surged through her, it became part of her. She felt like something that she hadn't even known was missing had just been replaced, and one part of her mind wondered what she could do in return.
Remembering her Occlumency lessons and the visualization of a wall, she instead pictured a large gate, which she then heaved open with all the force she could muster. She was distantly aware of Harry's hands trembling convulsively around hers, as their souls and minds merged, as their very essences danced together.
When they were once again aware of their surroundings, they were both breathing heavily and perspiring. Hermione's fingers ached from where Harry's hands had gripped hers. They looked at each other, starry-eyed and dazzled, unable to attach words to what they had just experienced.
"What…" Hermione finally gasped with effort, "was that?"
Harry was glancing around the room, as if he heard something that she did not. Sparks were spiraling brightly up into the fireplace flue. "The music…" he said softly. She strained her ears, but heard nothing. "A bond?" he asked, as if speaking to someone that she did not see.
Hermione lay back on the pillows, pulling Harry down alongside her. "What?"
"You didn't hear that?" She shook her head at him impatiently, and he pulled her up against him, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I could have sworn somebody said...we just bonded…"
"But we didn't - " Hermione faltered, confused. "Harry, who? Who said it?" she was looking at him anxiously, her brow creased. His green eyes looked vaguely troubled.
"I don't know…"
TBC
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