Chapter 61 - The Calling
Harry was already asleep by the time Hermione finished covering him with the cloak. Since he was still shivering rather violently, she cast a warming charm on the cloak, hoping it would mitigate the worst of his shakes. It was likely his body was in shock, but with all the other people needing serious medical attention he was unlikely to receive anything more valuable than sleep at the moment. Harry had always been resilient. He would recover from this as well.
Hermione crossed the room and sat down beside Ron. One of the house elves had brought up a tray of sandwiches as well as more tea for all them, and Ron handed her a cup prepared just the way she liked it - milk, no sugar. Nearby Charlie and Draco were cuddled together on a loveseat, and Ginny was sitting on the floor next to them, leaning up against her brother's leg. Like all of them, Ginny felt the need for comfort after all that had happened.
She found herself watching Draco thoughtfully. She wasn't entirely certain what to make of the Slytherin. His unexpected bravery out on the pitch had surprised all of them, and had permanently earned him the approval of the Weasley clan. She'd seen all the Weasleys, Ron included, pat him on the shoulder at some point in the last hour. Draco, for his part, didn't seem to know what to make of the situation either. It was obvious that he was just as bewildered by his behavior, and equally uncertain how to act in the face of such approval. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever received any sort of praise from his parents.
Now he sat huddled next to Charlie, leaning against his side, one of Charlie's arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. He did not seem inclined to move any time in the future, his face pale and thoughtful. But his eyes were sharp and focused, and she couldn't help but wonder what sorts of thoughts were racing through his mind. How would he see these events of this past hour? She herself didn't know what to make of them, and she certainly had a lot more experience in the unexpected, having been friends with Harry for so long.
"Do you think he understands?" Draco asked all of them suddenly, speaking low so as not to disturb Harry. As it was, Hermione suspected that Professor Snape's potion would keep him unaware of the world around him for some time.
"I'm not certain I understand," Charlie admitted.
Draco frowned and glanced over at Ron and Hermione instead. "I suppose this is all normal for the two of you?" he asked.
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. On one hand, Draco was right - but still, this passed even their expectation of things. For once Hermione decided to let Ron answer. She suspected her own understanding of things was badly colored by her Muggle upbringing, and she felt a bit awkward having that displayed so obviously in front of the Slytherin. All of them had talked about a children's story they all collectively knew - she had never heard of it. She doubted Harry had either.
"I wouldn't say normal," Ron informed the Slytherin. "Discovering that your best friend is. . . well, you know. . .is a bit strange no matter how you look at it."
That your best friend is….Hermione frowned. They meant 'king'. That had been mentioned repeatedly - even the Aurors had hinted at it. And certainly in that long walk from the Quidditch Pitch to the castle, the total strangers who had tried to touch or kiss Harry had said as much. Then there were the spells - her analytical, Muggle-raised mind had dismissed any suggestion that those spells she had researched were meant for someone special. When she, Ron and Harry had practiced them, she'd come to the conclusion that Harry had been the only one who could make them work because he was more powerful than the two of them. She had never even entertained the idea that it meant something more than that.
"What is this children's story you were all talking about?" she asked.
They were all more than eager to tell her the tale - even Draco - though they each had a slightly different version of the story to tell. Ron insisted that the king in the story was dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor, and Draco insisted he had worn the green and silver of Slytherin. Ginny had pointed out that the story predated the founding of Hogwarts by centuries and couldn't possibly have anything to do with either Gryffindor or Slytherin since the two Wizards in questions hadn't even been born then.
Regardless, they all agreed that the use of the spell, King's Banishment, had revealed the true identity of the Wizard in the story as the true King of the Wizard World. To those Wizard born, the story struck some archetypal belief inside all of them.
"The Wizarding World?" Hermione pressed. "This is a British story, right?"
But Draco shook his head. "No, I've heard the same story in France, Greece, and Spain."
"They tell the same story in Egypt and Romania," Charlie agreed. "Bill said the Egyptian version of the story actually goes back thousands of years. They all have subtle differences to them, but the main points of the story are all the same."
"But the mark that showed up on that scroll - the white stag and the triple crown - that's got to be British in origin," Hermione argued.
But Charlie shook his head at that. "The white stag shows up in numerous stories in cultures all over the world. There's a very prominent story of the white stag in Hungary. And Egypt had a triple crown as well as their standard double crown."
"So basically what you're saying is that it isn't just the locals who are going to go crazy over Harry," Hermione sighed, fearing that had been the case. "The rest of the world is going to go just as crazy."
"Poor Professor Snape," Draco remarked unexpectedly.
They all glanced at him in surprise at that. "Snape?" Ron asked bewildered. "Poor Harry you mean."
But Draco just shrugged. "Potter's used to this insanity," he pointed out to them - Hermione supposed from the Slytherin's perspective that might seem true, even though it was far from reality. Draco didn't know Harry well enough to understand that however. "But Professor Snape is now caught right the middle. I mean Potter was a hot commodity before this happened - now his value has gone up a thousand fold. Assassins will be lining up to take out Professor Snape."
"Assassins!" the four of them repeated in unison and then immediately glanced guiltily over at the sleeping Harry. He did not stir.
"Assassins?" Ron repeated at a much softer volume. "What in hell are you talking about?"
Draco just looked at them in disbelief as if the answer was obvious. "The chance to marry the Boy Who Lived," he replied. "Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the world right now."
"He's not a bachelor," Hermione pointed out firmly.
Draco nodded in confirmation. "Thus the need for assassins," he explained. "People have killed for far less."
"No one is going to kill Professor Snape," Charlie insisted.
Draco frowned at him. "Are you saying that because you believe in the inherent goodness of people, or because you believe in Professor Snape's ability to defend himself?"
Charlie appeared to think that over for a moment before finally answering, "Both."
Draco just shrugged. "I'll concede one point to you, but not the other."
"The inherent goodness of people?" Ginny asked hopefully from her seat on the floor.
But Draco just shook his head in denial. Trust a Slytherin to read the worst into the situation. The problem was, Hermione suspected, he was probably right. He did seem to have a different understanding of the world than the rest of them did - and she was beginning to realize that in many cases his view was more accurate. Gryffindors really did tend to live in a world all their own.
They all fell silent again, taking a few moments to eat some of the sandwiches and drink more tea. All of them were tired - that shielding spell had taken a lot out of them. And now that they had a moment to calm down, Hermione was finding herself thinking too hard about the events out on the pitch. She felt a bit numb when she thought about what she'd seen - what that creature had done.
"Do you suppose any of the students were killed?" Ginny asked suddenly, echoing thoughts they had likely all wondered. None of them knew the answer to that of course - they wouldn't know until they left Dumbledore's tower. But at the moment this was the best place for all of them. It was the most secure place in the entire castle, and there would be far too many people trying to get close to Harry.
"There might have been a few injuries," Charlie told her. "But I don't think there would have been any deaths. Their section of the stands wasn't touched."
"I wonder what my father's doing in the castle?" Draco remarked. At the looks they threw him, he just shrugged unapologetically. "I suppose we all assume that this was an attack from You-Know-Who. And yet. . ." he trailed off as if unwilling to finish the statement.
"And yet, none of the children of Death Eaters had been warned to stay away from the Pitch today," Hermione finished for him, guessing the direction his thoughts were going. As far as she knew none of the Slytherin children had been absent.
"My father is angry with me," Draco remarked. "But I'd like to think he'd still try to save me if he could." He sounded remarkably doubtful about that and Charlie hugged him closer. Draco just sighed and rested his head against Charlie's shoulder. "Maybe not," he conceded.
Hermione found herself shuddering at the thought, wondering what it must be like to believe such a thing of your own father. She actually felt sorry for the Slytherin. "Maybe they didn't know," she suggested, barely believing that she actually trying to make excuses for Lucius Malfoy. Surprisingly Ron took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly in approval.
Again they all fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. More than once, Hermione found herself glancing over at Harry, checking to see if he was sleeping soundly. Fawkes had landed on the back of Harry's couch and was still crooning softly to him, and it looked like Professor Snape's potion more than did the trick to keep his nightmares at bay. She couldn't help but think of how vulnerable he looked. He and Ron were the same age, and yet Harry still seemed so much younger physically. He would never have Ron's height or muscular build - thanks in part she suspected to his upbringing with the Dursleys. And while there were times when his eyes looked positively ancient, she also knew that Harry was still remarkably innocent about a lot of things. Even Ron, who should have seen Harry as an equal, thought of him as a little brother. She was guilty of the same.
A little brother who was about to be forced into the role of King of the Wizarding World, Hermione thought to herself. And all of them had dutifully fallen in line behind him, standing like his knight-protectors when he'd rushed off do what he likely considered his duty. How frustrating it was to keep Harry safe when he was always the first person to run headlong into danger.
"So… Lupin and Black," Draco said unexpectedly into the silence, startling them all. "When did that happen exactly? They're kind of hot!"
They all looked at Draco as if he'd lost his mind - Charlie had the added look of jealousy glinting in his eyes at the comment. It took a moment for Hermione to realize that while Draco might have heard rumors about the relationship between Remus and Sirius, this was the first time he'd actually seen Sirius Black in person.
"What?" the Slytherin asked with an innocent shrug. "I never get to hear any of the good gossip. You all stop talking whenever the evil Slytherin enters the room."
"You think they're hot?" Charlie demanded.
"Hell, yes," Draco smirked. "I was engaged to Black you know."
"I know," Charlie growled at him. Draco just grinned impishly up at him, seeming utterly unrepentant about his remarks. Charlie glanced at the others as he stood, pulling Draco with him. "Excuse us a moment," he informed them and then pulled the still grinning Draco toward the nearly hidden door behind Dumbledore's desk and up the stairs behind it.
Ginny was giggling behind her hand, and Hermione was hard pressed not to laugh out loud. Poor Charlie, she thought to herself. Draco was impossible! She was actually beginning to like the annoying Slytherin.
Ron on the other hand just buried his face in his hands and groaned in dismay. "Oh, my god! They're totally doing it in Dumbledore's bedroom - that's just wrong!"
There were days when Hermione wondered how she had managed to fall in love with the only prude in the entire Weasley clan - okay, Percy was probably just as bad. Still, it was bound to be interesting when Ron finally cracked. She was rather looking forward to it.
It was late when Harry awoke from his deep sleep on the couch in Dumbledore's office. The urgent tolling of that bell had grown louder, calling him back to the real world, and he shook of the linger traces of exhaustion and sat up. The windows were all dark, indicating that it was night, and a quick glance around the tower showed Ron and Hermione sleeping curled up on the couch nearest him. Draco and Charlie were sound asleep on another couch, and Ginny was curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the two of them. Even Fawkes was asleep on his perch, his head tucked neatly under one of his wings.
The tolling bell grew louder, and Harry found himself rising to his feet, knowing that he would need to answer that call. He still wasn't entirely certain what it was, but he felt no true sense of danger. Even the compulsion he felt did not alarm him - it seemed somehow fated.
Moving quietly so that he did not disturb the others, he made his way to the door, slipping through it and down the spiral stairs. He wondered where Severus and the others were - no doubt they were still helping with the recovery efforts despite the lateness of the hour. He'd been unconscious after the battle last year, but he'd been told that the recovery efforts had continued well into the next day, and that it had been nearly a week before the last of the wounded had been moved to St. Mungo's. This time they also had the destroyed stands to worry about - let alone all the wounded who would need tending.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs he was unsurprised to see Dumbledore approaching him from down the long narrow corridor that led toward the main part of the castle. The old man looked tired, but his eyes twinkled as he approached Harry, seeming unsurprised to see him as well.
"You know where to go?" Dumbledore asked - it was more a statement than a question, but Harry answered anyway.
"Stonehenge," he replied, though the location surprised him. "I thought you said Wizards from all over the world would be called. Why Stonehenge? Why something so British?"
"You're British, my boy," Dumbledore replied reasonably. "Where else would you be called?"
Harry fell into step beside Dumbledore as they proceeded down the corridor together. "You're excited," he remarked, catching a sense of Dumbledore's energy. Despite his obvious exhaustion, the old man practically vibrated with eagerness.
"This is the stuff of legends, my boy," Dumbledore admitted to him. "It's rather exciting to face something so new at such a time in my life."
"You know what to expect then?" Harry asked. He did not. He only knew that he had to go to Stonehenge - nothing else seemed clear.
Dumbledore shrugged at that. "You'll meet the others," he said simply. "You'll see all those who were called."
"You know them?" Harry wondered.
"Some of them," Dumbledore nodded. "Many will be members of the International Confederation of Wizards. But there will be new blood in the group as well. And those who are not inclined to join the rest of us - or any legitimate organization for that matter."
His words stopped Harry cold in his tracks. "Voldemort will be there."
Dumbledore stopped beside him and nodded gravely to him. "Yes, Harry," he agreed. "I imagine he was called as well. The only thing I can promise you is that you will be in no danger - not tonight. No one will raise a hand against you tonight, not even Voldemort. Remember that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone else says to you, tonight at least there will be no violence."
Only somewhat appeased, Harry nodded and continued walking, Dumbledore beside him. As they descended through the many staircases of Hogwarts, all shadowed now with only the occasional torch to light their path, he noticed numerous house elves lining the corridors, watching him eagerly with their strange eyes. They seemed to be waiting for something - an order perhaps, or the slightest hint that he might need something. He couldn't help but frown at such odd behavior - never in all his time at Hogwarts had he seen so many of them anywhere but the kitchens. Normally they did not appear in public, keeping well hidden unless summoned.
Dumbledore chuckled softly and patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, my boy," he assured him. "I was well into my forties before I could see them."
Startled, Harry looked up at the old man. "They're invisible?" he asked, almost dreading the answer.
Dumbledore nodded. "Wait until you start seeing what the ghosts really get up to when they believe no one can see them. I was well into my fifties before I could see through their invisibility - but I imagine you'll manage before too long."
Harry paled at the thought. It rather alarmed him that Dumbledore was so blithely accepting of such things. He didn't want to be as powerful as Dumbledore - it scared him. Dumbledore had decades of wisdom to back such power - Harry had nothing but a rather miserable childhood to guide his decisions. He wished suddenly that he could run down to his room in the dungeon and hide away from the world. The path of destiny stretched out in front of him, and he was terrified to walk it.
Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder again. "We can't escape our destiny, Harry," he said gently. "It's okay to be scared."
"Terrified," Harry corrected. How could he, the orphaned son of James and Lily Potter, whose only desire in life had been to be normal, have come to such a fate? It didn't seem fair, and a part of him wanted to rail at the world for such a burden. Deep in the earth the bell only tolled louder.
Dumbledore led Harry toward a side passage, and out one of the lesser-known castle exits as there were still people all over the castle and Aurors posted at the main gates. Dobby was waiting for them at the side exit, standing huddled against the stonewall of the castle, something dark clasped in his tiny hands. His ears perked up eagerly when he spotted Harry and he thrust the dark object into Harry's hands.
It was his coat, he realized - the Basilisk coat that Severus had given him. He smiled gratefully at the little house elf as he pulled on the garment, feeling strangely comforted to have Severus' gift around him. "Thank you, Dobby," he told the little creature.
Dobby just tugged at his ears and nodded happily. "Dobby is happy to be serving good Master Harry."
Nodding to Dumbledore, Harry followed the old man down a narrow path toward the lake. Though not full, the moon was bright in the sky, and there were no clouds. Both Wizards could see well enough to follow the path along the lakeshore, moving further away from the castle and outside the main bounds of the wards. Nothing stirred the surface of the lake, even the squid unusually silent this night. Once or twice Harry thought he saw Hedwig's white form flying overhead, and he wondered if his owl would follow them all the way to Stonehenge. He wished Ron and Hermione were with him.
And he couldn't help but wonder what Severus was doing? Would he go to the tower to check on him and worry when he did not find him there? Vaguely he remembered the man holding his hand earlier that day - and Severus had been there on the Quidditch field protecting him as he always did. He'd feel so much better if the man was there beside him now.
They passed through the wards of Hogwarts and Dumbledore looked expectantly down at Harry, waiting for him. He took a deep breath, uncertain how he'd find the fortitude to proceed. Everything was changing - had already changed. He felt as if he'd never truly be able to go back to where he belonged, despite Dumbledore's assurance that he still had some place in this world. He wasn't nearly so certain.
But then, he also knew he could not avoid the inevitable. The bell was relentless, tolling louder and louder, and the pull toward Stonehenge was growing stronger by the moment. He belonged there - or at least the World believed so - and who was he to defy the very will of the World?
He looked up at Dumbledore and nodded reluctantly. With a crack, they two of them disapparated away, heading across the land, south toward the Salisbury Plains and the ancient circle of stones that called to the king.