Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists
Disclaimer: I can only hope to attain the creative brilliance of J. K Rowling.
AN: This story is AU after OOTP.
Heart and Mind Sang On Together
"Wh - what?" Hermione stammered, frozen where she was seated on the bed, staring at Harry uncomprehendingly. She had felt his hands go limp around hers, and then he had just collapsed. Next, she had tearfully tried to rouse him for at least one heart-stopping minute, when he had suddenly revived, shrieking at her that someone was coming. "Who?" she asked, trying to gather her muddled thoughts into some kind of order.
"Slytherin," Harry said insistently. "He knew I was there. It - it - a snake, and the corridor - he's coming…" He was practically incoherent, but his green eyes were blazing, and Hermione felt his contagious panic seeping into her mind as well. She clasped her hands together to prevent their trembling.
"He - he can't - we're in Lord Gryffindor's house," she tried to say logically. "What could he do? He wouldn't get away with - " She stopped abruptly, as Harry turned, alert and cat-like toward the door. Every line of his body exuded tension, and Hermione suddenly had an image of hordes of angry, shouting men…with torches…. She shook away the ridiculous picture - whether it came from his imagination or hers, she did not know - and found Harry lunging toward her, pulling the beaded cap from her head, and tossing it carelessly across the room. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and she looked at him in bewilderment, sputtering confused protests.
"You're going to have to play along, Hermione," he muttered in a low voice, a twinkle managing to appear in his eyes, despite the precariousness of their situation. "How do you get this damned dress off?"
She stared at him for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening in disbelief, before she finally realized what he was doing. He nodded at her sudden cognition, and began to unlace the front of his tunic.
She quickly kicked off her soft shoes, and reached around behind her to pull at the tie of the dress. It gave, and she felt the material loosen around her considerably, sliding off of one shoulder. The flash in Harry's eyes as he noticed, made her stomach flip. She heard two muffled thumps on the floor, and realized that he must have shed his boots.
He scrambled back onto the bed then and reached for her, and something like uncertainty leapt into her eyes.
"Harry, I never - " she began, twiddling self-consciously with the loose neckline of her dress, unsure of how exactly she meant to complete that sentence.
"Follow my lead," he whispered, his mouth suddenly quite close to hers. She felt his breath hot on her cheek, and felt a thrill of anticipation thrum through her, which was suddenly amplified and returned.
You're enjoying this! She accused.
What's not to enjoy? He replied cheekily, and then kissed her suddenly, sweeping all other thoughts from her mind. He began to trail kisses down the side of her neck, to the new expanse exposed by her unlaced gown, and she struggled to keep her mind on their predicament, as she further unfastened the lacings on his shirt, and found her hand wandering to his waist to unfasten his pants.
Harry stopped what he was doing, and looked at her suddenly, his breath hitching unevenly in his chest.
"Just - just - you know, because they're coming. We should make it look real," she explained, blushing brilliantly.
"Right," he breathed abruptly, covering her mouth with his again, as he ran his hands over her sides, feeling the heat of her skin radiating through the soft linen of her dress. Outside, they could hear a clamor, though it sounded distant through the thick stone. There seemed to be an entire army mounting the wide stone stairs, and men's voices were raised in what sounded like angry protestations.
Someone beat on their door with such force that Hermione thought it would collapse in on its hinges.
"What in God's name!?" Harry said loudly, for the benefit of the listening ears outside, as he rose and made for the door. Hermione watched him admiringly, as he stalked to the door, with a wrath that was more than just put on, she was sure. He certainly made a picture, rumpled, half-dressed, with mussed hair and lips that looked like they had been thoroughly kissed - and recently so. He opened the door, and leaned between it and the jamb, blocking whoever had interrupted from her view. "I beg your pardon?" Harry said, in the most affronted tone he could manage.
"Where is she?" came the smooth, yet unmistakably angry tones of Salazar Slytherin. Harry shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot, and Hermione could just see the shoulder and sleeve of Slytherin's tunic.
"I beg your pardon," Harry repeated, his voice carrying a lower, much more dangerous tone the second time.
"Salazar, in the name of all that is decent - how can you have the effrontery to act in this manner in my house!?" came Gryffindor's voice from somewhere further away. He must have chased Slytherin to their room, when he realized what his business partner was going to attempt. There was a murmur of voices, unseen in the hall, that Hermione supposed must be some of Gryffindor's men.
"I will ask you again, sir, where is your wife?" Slytherin enunciated, his dark eyes flashing menacingly. Harry made no reply, but opened the door wider, enough to allow part of the tumbled bed, and his own sad state of dress to be seen. Hermione shrank toward the bed linen, unsure of how much the intruder could see.
"Where do you think she is?" he asked.
"Someone attempted to invade my mind as I was in conference with Lord Gryffindor. That manner of insult, I will not tolerate, especially from some foreign sorceress - for I believe it was she."
Hermione was startled by Harry's sudden laugh; it was jarring in the thick tension which permeated the room.
"We have been wed but three months, sir," Harry said. "And I can assure you that, at this moment, she has no interest in anyone's mind, most especially yours." Slytherin's lip curled slightly at the pointed insult, and Gryffindor finally muscled his way forward, having evidently hoped for a politic resolution, but seeing that it was unlikely.
"Salazar, you go too far! You have disturbed my guests, my family, and made scurrilous and unfounded accusations against a lady. If there were not - " Gryffindor stopped abruptly, and Harry wondered if he was thinking of Slytherin's knowledge of Aetheryd's genealogy. "You have worn out your welcome this night. You will apologize to Lord Potter, and quit this place at once."
Slytherin's eyes had lit unpleasantly, as Gryffindor spoke, and Harry had the uncomfortably feeling that he knew of their subterfuge, though he was not in a position to do anything about it presently.
"My apologies, sir. It appears that I acted hastily and under mistaken impression," Slytherin said, bowing slightly. "I ask pardon from your lovely wife, and will nowise further disturb your evening." His lips curled in a mirthless smile of obsequy, even as his eyes remained flat and fathomless with insincerity.
He must have disappeared from the doorway, for Hermione heard Gryffindor bark, "Escort him from the keep immediately." Harry then had a short, whispered conversation with someone, presumably his ancestor, and then, closing the door quietly, returned to the bed.
"He is an Occlumens," Harry said ruefully, as he sat back on the bed, gathering Hermione into his arms, almost absent-mindedly. "I felt him try - try to see into my mind. I don't think he succeeded." Hermione curled up next to him, with her head on his chest.
"He didn't." Harry chuckled softly.
"Of course, you were there," he said, with a smile in his voice that also sang through her mind. "You helped, didn't you?" he asked. Hermione shrugged in an off-handed way. "No, you did, didn't you?" Harry said, finding this line of questioning worth pursuing. "Did you hear me? I sounded like a - like a - " Harry was at a loss. "Well, I didn't sound like a normal bloke from the twentieth century!"
Hermione's eyes twinkled. "I told you I read a lot."
"No wonder he thinks it was you. He obviously thinks I don't have the mental capacity of a flobberworm," Harry said. Hermione looked at him with apology, but he smiled at her and took her hand, kissing it. "It's a good thing you're here," he said, enunciating every syllable and infusing his words with sincerity.
"He knows something," she said, presently, worry clouding her dark eyes again. "I can't think how, but I'm almost sure of it."
Harry nodded his agreement, kissing her temple. "When Gryffindor ordered him out, he looked at me, like - like he knew what I was doing, even though he couldn't do anything about it right then, like he was promising to finish this later." Hermione shook her head, deep in thought.
"It looks like Gryffindor's and Slytherin's relationship with each other wasn't very sound to begin with. If our coming here destroys that…" she trailed off, and Harry sighed.
"We've been over this, Hermione. We could have been sent here to do just that." She sighed against him.
"Maybe you're right," she finally admitted quietly, trying to imagine Hogwarts without the fourth school, if Slytherin left prematurely or never helped at all, or Hogwarts as something they would not even be able to recognize.
"I think this really embarrassed Gryffindor," Harry said, after a moment. "He was tripping over himself to apologize to me. He said that the practice of mind-invasion was Dark Magic, and that to accuse me of being a Dark Wizard openly was the highest degree of insult."
"Actually," Hermione countered in a prim voice, "I believe I was the one being accused of performing Dark Magic."
"That's right," Harry realized suddenly. "I guess being married to a Dark Witch would make me Dark by association."
"It's odd, though," Hermione mused, "how Legilimency isn't seen as Dark Magic anymore. I mean, in our time. I think that - " but she was interrupted by a particularly elaborate yawn from Harry, and she elbowed him in the ribs at his teasing.
Something flickered in his eyes as she fixed him with a mock glower, and he reached up to run his fingertips ever so slightly under the still-loosened neck of her gown. A tremor shivered involuntarily over her body in response.
"I want to finish what I started with my wife," he whispered, smiling over the last word, the desire in his barely audible voice rendering her weak in the knees.
"Harry, we're not really married," she reminded him weakly.
"But we are bonded," he countered, tugging at the gown playfully. "Avalon said so." Hermione swallowed, trying to think of a response, and wondering why she was arguing with him. "Besides, what if Slytherin came back?"
"He can't come back," Hermione answered, with a distinctly distracted air. "There are anti-Apparation wards up. Why do you think everyone ran up here, instead of just Apparating?" Her hands had penetrated his open tunic and were wandering lightly over the smooth planes of his chest.
"It's probably best to be sure, to be…safe…" was the last thing she heard him say before his lips crashed into hers. Material slid away, and the heat of his skin seared and delighted her.
The charm? She heard him ask quickly, as he fought for control.
I did it in the dressing room while I was changing for dinner, she admitted, flushing scarlet.
You little tramp! He grinned, and the transparent affection in his voice washed over her, warm and familiar, as he kissed her deeply yet again. She felt his rapture and his reverence, and he felt her anticipation and her pleasure. The awkwardness was minimal, since they could so clearly read and respond to each other's emotions and desires. She was able to wonder wildly why they hadn't done this before, and then she gave herself over to ecstasy.
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The four students remaining at Avalon walked slowly away from the studded, heavy door, as if they were uncertain what to do next, but had decided that this action would be as good as anything else. Ron and Ginny, in particular, looked dazed, and Draco appeared to wish that he was almost anywhere else. Luna was nearly floating down the hallway, an ethereal half-smile playing across her face, her eyes dreamy and distant.
Those eyes darkened and sharpened back into awareness when Ron yanked her into an alcove, his hand tightly gripping her upper arm.
"I want to know what is going on, and I want to know it now," he demanded, his face only centimeters from hers. Luna's eyes searched his face without fear, and she stepped back from his grasp, and said,
"What do you want to know?" Ron blinked at her, startled. He had been ready for a fight, for some kind of bizarre duel with words, and the ease with which she acceded to his request nonplussed him.
"Where do I start?" he asked sarcastically. "Where did Harry and Hermione go? Why wouldn't you let me follow? How did you know what's going to happen? Did you bring us here?" He paused. "D'you want me to keep going?"
Luna looked vaguely troubled, and she shrugged.
"You're not going to believe me. Nobody ever does." She said this without regret or despondency, but merely as if it were a slightly unpleasant, but inescapable reality. Ron leveled his blue gaze on her, with as much seriousness as she'd ever seen from him.
"Try me," was all he said.
"Three weeks ago, I had a dream," she began, stopping when Ron's eyes began to roll heavenward, almost of their own accord. Luna said nothing, but her face clearly said, See? I knew you wouldn't believe me.
"No, wait, Luna!" he said, catching her arm again - though more gently this time - as she made a move to leave. "Please! I'm sorry. Please tell me."
"I had a dream," she repeated. "Harry and Hermione were in it. At least, I think it was them. They were wearing odd clothes, and looked… different - more grown up somehow. Harry told me to make the portkeys - three of them - and when to do it. He told me how to set them to go to Avalon, said that I'd be able to do it, but he didn't say why or how he knew this. But when I tried, I was able to set them - I guess now because I'm descended from the Faerie. He told me that I'd need to go with them to Avalon, and that I should wait until the next day to let them into the locked room."
"So, you dreamed that Harry told you to do things, and you - you just said `okay', and went and did them?" Ron sounded flabbergasted.
"Wouldn't you have?" Luna asked serenely, sounding mildly surprised. Ron opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to formulate an answer. Harry's my best mate. Would I have accepted anything a dream-Harry told me, and followed its instructions? He shook his head. No sodding way!
"So how do we get them back?" he finally asked, trying to sound matter of fact.
"We don't," was Luna's chilling answer. "We wait for them to come back."
"Wait?" Ron gaped. "How long?"
Luna shrugged, as if the whole thing were no big deal. "Harry didn't tell me that."
"Harry didn't tell you - " Ron muttered to himself, and broke off abruptly, shaking his head. "Do you mean that there's nothing we can do?"
"We can go back to the library," Luna suggested mildly. "I think Hermione would like us to continue researching the Claviomnis."
"The Clavi - " Ron said, his mind groping desperately for what that was. They had just talked about it this morning. Some ruddy great rock, with powers...I think. "Why? What's that got to do with Harry and Hermione being lost?"
"They aren't lost," Luna corrected, and Ron watched her for a moment, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Then you know where they are," he said. It was not a question. "Where are they?"
"I already told you that they're in Avalon," she said, with maddening calm.
"They're not - I went up there - they - " he paused, deep in thought, the odd contraption in the tower room flitting through his mind. It looked sort of like a… "When are they?" he asked, finally putting all the pieces together.
"I don't know," she said, honestly. "But the Claviomnis has something to do with it."
"How do you know that?" Ron asked, desperation fraying the edges of his voice.
"Because, in my dream, Hermione was holding it."
"But - but that book Hermione was reading said - said it - "
"Disappeared a thousand years ago," Luna finished for him.
"D'you think they've gone back…" The redhead's eyes widened as the concept sank in, no longer doubtful of Luna's story.
"So, shall we go to the library?" Luna asked, as if she hadn't just told Ron that his two best friends had traveled a thousand years into the past. Ron swept her with a dazed glance, and moved back out into the corridor.
"Yeah…sure…" he said. As they walked in silence - Ron was still trying to process the information that Luna had given him - Ginny came careening suddenly around the corner.
"Where have you two been?" she said dramatically. "I look up, and suddenly I'm alone with the ferret? He's - " She noticed the look on Ron's face then, and paused. "What's going on?"
"That thing was a time turner," Ron said dully. "Harry and Hermione have gone back in time a thousand years. We have to wait for them to get back." He said this in the same way that one would say, "we have to pick them up at the airport."
Ginny's eyes flicked back and forth from Ron to Luna, as she too assessed the situation. She did not ask how Ron or Luna knew what they knew, but merely accepted it as a given.
"So what do we do to help them?" she asked, so matter of factly, that Ron had a sudden urge to hug her tightly.
"Luna thinks we should do more research on the Claviomnis," Ron said, clearing his throat as he tried to adopt a more business-like tone.
"I don't know where Malfoy's got to," Ginny grumped, as she fell into step with them. "We don't have to invite him to our party, do we?"
"Stupid git," was all the reply she got from Ron.
They reached the library, but Ginny had not yet touched the shiny, worn door handle, when a horrible, wailing scream wended its way to their ears, rising and falling like the shriek of some hideous siren. The three of them exchanged alert and frightened looks, and Luna's eyes looked suddenly ablaze.
"Malfoy?" Ginny wondered.
"Where the hell is he?" Ron asked. Luna's hair was blowing about her face again, and she seemed to quiver slightly, like the disturbed surface of a pond of water, in an unseen breeze.
"He's found the Oracle."
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Harry awakened slowly the next morning, a smile playing across his face before he was even conscious enough to remember why. Then he did recall, and the smile widened.
"You look like the cat that got the canary," Hermione said, her voice still rough from sleep.
"Got you….'sbetter," he mumbled, scrunching up and then stretching languorously, finally relaxing again with an audible groan. His eyes flickered open to find her watching him. She smiled at him, a lazy smile that did funny things to his heart…among other things. "Damn, Hermione," he finally said, making her laugh out loud.
She scooted over closer to him, and reveled in his warmth, as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Do you regret it?" she asked, her eyes looking simultaneously hopeful and uncertain.
Not for a second, came the unhesitating answer, resonating through her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her smile was watery, as she tried to blink them away.
I love you. It wafted through her thoughts like a gentle caress, and she closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation. When she opened them, he was still looking at her, and she leaned over and kissed him thoroughly.
"It feels early," Harry said. "But I'm hungry. Is there some kind of rope you pull to get breakfast around here?" Even as he completed his sentence, a house-elf suddenly appeared in the room with a slight crack. Hermione self-consciously pulled the coverlet higher up around her neck.
"Do the lord and lady desire food to be brought to their chambers, or will they break the fast with the Lord Gryffindor in the Dining Hall?" the elf asked, formally, his eyes fixed at some point to the left and above their heads.
"Is Lord Gryffindor eating now?" Hermione asked.
"It is the Lord Gryffindor's custom to have his morning meal an hour after sunup," the elf answered. "He is expected in the Dining Hall in a quarter-hour."
"Then we shall eat with him," she said, and the elf bowed and vanished. "What?" Hermione said, a little defensively, at Harry's questioning gaze. "I think there's a lot that needs to be discussed."
"Mm, I suppose," Harry said, somewhat noncommittally. "Why do you reckon Gryffindor has house-elves and regular servants?"
"He's a Muggle nobleman," Hermione said. "He probably has the servants for when the Muggles visit. But I bet the house-elves do the dirty work." Her brows lowered and her face puckered into a frown.
"They probably do," Harry answered. "Hermione, remember when we are." He was half-afraid that she'd start off on some elf crusade while they were there, and if she thought house-elf equality was an unwelcome subject in their day… he couldn't imagine how much worse it would be a thousand years earlier.
"I know," she replied, the dark look passing from her face. She sat up, still holding the sheet to her front. "Shall we get dressed?" she asked. He was looking at her lasciviously.
"I'd rather you didn't," he replied candidly. She colored, but smiled, and marched into the dressing room, as regally as a queen, even with the sheet wound round her body.
When she exited the dressing room, Harry had dressed as well, opting for clothes that looked more casual, at least to his admittedly inexpert eye. Hermione was wearing a light blue dress, with some kind of long sleeveless overdress on top of it, made of some kind of heavy brocade-like material. Her hair was pulled back in a long plait, and had ribbon woven in it.
Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw her, and Hermione laughed a most un-Hermione-like laugh.
"I love these clothes," she admitted girlishly.
"They suit you," Harry said warmly, his obvious regard for her nearly palpable in the room. Exchanging fond looks, they went down to breakfast.
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Gryffindor stood as they entered the room, obviously glad to have them down to break the fast with him. He did still look rather uneasy, because of the events of last night, Hermione supposed. She was proven right, when he determinedly approached her, took her hand, and kissed it.
"My lady, I beg your pardon for the intrusion to which you were subjected last night. That it happened in my own house is a perfidy from which I shall not soon recover. You have my humblest and most sincere apologies," he said, so eloquently that he rather annoyed Harry. Hermione felt his irritation and smiled cheekily at him.
"No offense is taken, my lord," she answered graciously, and he escorted her to her chair. The two men were then seated as well.
"Salazar has long had a suspicious and furtive mind," Gryffindor said, as he began to eat. "He supposes that since his own mind is worm-eaten with lies and calculations, then so must the minds of all others be as well."
"What has Slytherin against you?" Harry asked curiously. Gryffindor let out a short bark of mirthless laughter.
"I embody everything that he despises. And he likewise that which I despise," the lord replied. "He believes that bloodlines are paramount, that who one's ancestors were matters more than any intellect or wit or innate ability. He also believes in the usefulness of some forms of Dark Magic, and I believe he has been experimenting with them on the Mûr-gahl. There is rumored to be a curse he has developed, a curse that is said to kill without a wound, a curse which is impossible to block or defend."
"Avada Kedavra," Harry said quietly, without thinking, as Hermione flashed him a warning look. Gryffindor's lips thinned, but he spoke without anger.
"We do not speak the words that compose the curse," he said. "It saddens me much that you still know of this curse, even so far into the future."
"How can you let this happen?" Hermione burst out suddenly, ignoring Harry's quelling hand on hers under the table, and quite forgetting the warning that she had been the one to give him. "Why have you done nothing to stop him?" Gryffindor's eyes flashed defensively, and Hermione suddenly wished she had tempered her passionate words.
"It is not as simple as the lady believes," he said coolly. "Salazar Slytherin is a highly intelligent and cunning wizard. Wits and quick thinking are commendable traits, traits that should be cultivated in the next generation of young wizards…and witches," he added, nodding at Hermione. "His gold can bring much to the school that we wish to create, and his instruction likewise. He is also too dangerous to dismiss summarily. There is much that he knows, and would use destructively to his advantage, if he were pressed." Gryffindor's eyes suddenly appeared distant and troubled.
"Your son?" Harry asked, as if he had not witnessed their conversation the night before. The mighty lord nodded.
"You will understand," he said to Harry, "when you beget a child, how difficult it is to make wise decisions regarding their welfare. One constantly doubts oneself, wondering which decision would ease the path down which their child is destined to walk. Though the Mûr-gahl concern me as well, with regard to Lord Slytherin. I would not leave them to his perfidious devices. It may be better that he is kept on tight rein and watched closely, than cut off and so persuaded to perform evil at will."
"The most difficult choice to make, sir," Harry offered, "is between that which is right or that which is easy." Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, as he echoed their venerated Headmaster's words.
Gryffindor speared Harry with an inscrutable look, and rose abruptly, clattering his knife noisily on his plate.
"Come," he said in a friendly voice, though it was clearly not a suggestion. "You have not yet seen the Gryffindor treasury. Would that you would inherit some of these things, if the line were not to be lost. Still, there is much to admire." He stopped at the door, and turned, beckoning them to follow.
They proceeded down a meandering passageway, taking so many turnings that Hermione quite lost track of where exactly in the castle they were. Finally, Gryffindor stopped before a heavily barred door, with an armed guard standing before it. At the sight of Gryffindor, he stepped aside and bowed low. The lord of the castle placed his hand on a metal plate just above the doorknob, and, in response to his touch, the latch dislodged with an audible clank. Gryffindor stood to one side, enjoying their awe and wonder, as a parent would enjoy a child's.
The very air of the room seemed to shimmer metallically with the amount of gold that lined the walls. Brilliant swords with elaborate hilts leaned on the walls, next to shelves full of jewel-encrusted goblets. A beautifully wrought pensieve stood on a marble pedestal in one corner. There were also many trinkets of indeterminate origin, some of which were moving of their own accord. Harry noticed a large, ornate mirror standing in the corner opposite the pensieve, an odd language flowing around the top of its frame, and he caught his breath.
"Erised," he said, in a disbelieving whisper, wondering what it would show him if he were to look into it now. He also wondered how in the world Dumbledore had come by it, a thousand years hence.
He took an almost unwilling half-step toward the mirror, feeling the pull of it much as he had during his first year, but Hermione distracted him with a gasp of her own.
She pointed toward a large, many-faceted crystal on a smaller pedestal and pronged stand of its own, which seemed to pulsate with the reflection of all the flickering light and color in the room. Harry could feel the magical power emanating from it, much as they had with the Time Turner in the tower at Avalon.
He heard her voice in his mind, even before she spoke aloud.
It's the Claviomnis.
TBC
Finally! No more interruptions for our favorite couple. I hope you liked this chapter. I thought it was okay.
Thanks to all those who corrected me about the year of the Battle of Hastings being 1066, not 1055. I feel like a moron, especially since I was mainly using the year to make a point. Oh well.
I would really appreciate a review, after you read this chapter. The feedback is both really helpful and encouraging. I don't have a lot of time to reply to every review, but I try to answer any questions, if they don't require me to give away the plot in advance. So anyway…review as your conscience leads you, I guess!
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