Iuga Sortis II

Five

To win the Battle of the Gods, give Set what he wants. To fight him will only cause death and destruction. Give him Isis. Then, and only then, will the Battle end.

The words of the first scroll tumbled in Dumbledore's head endlessly. They baffled him. How could giving Set what he wanted bode well for the side of good?

"Any thoughts?" Jamilah asked. She put down the papyrus sheet and leaned her arms on the table. They were downstairs in Jamilah's home in the secret room.

"I don't understand! I thought these scrolls were to help us!"

"There must be something we're missing . . . perhaps the second scroll will clarify the first?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That would be wonderful, only if we could open the second scroll . . ."

After numerous spells, charms, and Muggle methods, the scroll remained sealed and unread.

"There must be some way to open it," she mused as she glared at the elusive document.

"Yes, but it's obviously magic-sensitive. It will only open for the person with the right magical make up."

"That does us absolutely no good right now!"

"Be patient, love. What does it say about Thanatos?" Dumbledore asked.

Jamilah scanned the scroll quickly. "He will disappear the year before the Battle begins. The Sisters beware."

"I wish I learned to read hieroglyphics. As it was, I was entirely too busy learning other things . . ."

Jamilah shuddered at the hidden meaning. "Ugh, Granddad! I ain't need to hear that!"

"Well, it was during one of those lessons your mother was conceived, young lady!"

She snorted. "I'm hardly young."

"Compared to me, you're a toddler."

"Anyway . . . what does this mean?"

Dumbledore grew serious. "They will not attack Mr. Potter, directly anyway."

"Why?"

"They have a new target."

Jamilah gasped. "It's not--"

"No. It's not. They still don't know who she is yet, but we should all be wary. There is a chance they could discover her."

"How do you. . . never mind."

Dumbledore chuckled briefly. "You of all people should know better than to ask me such a question."

"Duly noted."

"I wish I knew another way to end this Battle before it even starts."

"You can. You'd just have to give him my granddaughter, and I'm afraid I won't let you," Jamilah said seriously.

"I wouldn't do that Jamilah. You should know that. I love that little girl."

"She's not little anymore."

"Yes, she's what? Thirteen now?"

"Thirteen and a fat thing, too."

"Jamilah!"

"What? I'm telling you the truth! All she did the entire summer was eat and watch TV, and it didn't help that the medicine she was taking for cramps increased her appetite."

"I think she was making up for lost time. Hogwarts doesn't have televisions."

"Such a shame," Jamilah said dryly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Besides, she'll probably lose it all playing Quidditch."

"Nia? Play Quidditch? You have a betta chance of gettin' Voldemort to surrender himself willingly than to get that girl in the air!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! Nia is scared of flying! You should've seen the tantrum she threw when she got on the plane last year."

"How did she get on it this year?"

"I had to use a Calming Charm on her. I didn't have enough time to do the intensive one, so I'm sure she was still slightly antsy. I don't get it; Isis herself loved the air . . ."

"Remember, Nia's a reincarnate. She has fears and hopes separate from Isis. But she'll have to learn to fly, Jamilah."

"I know this. I just pity the one who teaches her."

"Why?"

"That girl's stubborn as a mule with an attitude to boot. She'll be the one tellin' the teacher he's wrong! I don't know where she got it from."

"Neither do I," Dumbledore said sarcastically as he looked pointedly at her.

"I don't know what you talkin' 'bout, Granddad."

"You always have these memory lapses when I speak of a less than stellar attribute of yours, Jamilah."

"Again, I don't know what you talkin' 'bout."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's all right. I do know what I'm talking about; that's what's most important."

Jamilah sucked her teeth.

"Don't feel bad, love. Your mother was just as bad. But my Asenath--she was the worst!"

A small grin formed on Jamilah's face. "Grandma was stubborn?"

"Oh yes. I remember when she was pregnant with your mother, and she insisted on weeding the garden--without magic, mind you--we had to be very careful about using it. Set didn't know we were there, and any magic used would have alerted him to our presence."

"How far along was she?"

"Seven months. She was very round and very beautiful."

"You let her weed the garden that far along?"

"No, I didn't. But she wouldn't listen to me. Oh no, she thought she was right all the time. But then again, most of the time she was. But on this particular occasion, I was the one who was right, and yet, she still managed to prove me wrong . . .

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to do this. The doctor said you should take it easy! With your age--"

"What about my age, Albus?"

His wife stopped digging in the dirt and he saw her hand tense around her garden tool. He heard the warning in her voice and did not want to make her angrier.

"Dr. Paulsy said women who are pregnant shouldn't do strenuous work, love," he finished lamely.

She smirked at him. "Didn't it take someone's strenuous work to get me in the state, Albus?"

He grinned smugly. "I broke a sweat here and there . . ."

"I'm referring to you! All I had to do was lie there!"

Albus's mouth dropped open in shock. "Asenath Dumbledore! You take that back this instant! I remember many a night where you collapsed on top of me in exhaustion!" Though her back was to him and her skin was too dark to show it, Albus knew she was blushing.

"You are entirely too damn arrogant for your own good, Albus."

"And entirely right, I may add."

"Well, I guess that means I can't participate in any more of the strenuous work we did last night . . ."

The color drained from his face at her implication.

"Dear Merlin, no . . ."

"If I can't weed this garden, you can't plant any more seeds in mine . . ."

Albus cleared his throat nervously. "What does the good doctor know? He can't get pregnant!"

"So will you let me weed my garden?"

"As long as I can taste your fruit, I will."

"Fruit usually grow on trees, Albus."

"You always have to be right, don't you, love?"

"No. I don't have to be. It just usually turns out I am!"

"We'll see who's right this time."

"About what, darling?"

"You weeding this garden. You are heavy with my son, love! I don't want you hurting yourself!"

"I won't hurt myself, Albus. And the babe is a girl."

"Why do you keep saying that? It's a boy, dear."

"I think I would know what sex this child is, considering she's been growing inside me for the past seven months."

Albus said nothing. He went to her and began to help her weed.

"All right there, old man. Can't have you breaking a hip now!"

Albus glared at her. "I'm only sixty years old, Asenath."

"Yes. If you were Muggle, you'd be positively ancient!"

"Good thing I'm not a Muggle, isn't it?"

"A very good thing, or else I'd have to find a man my age who could keep up with me."

Asenath winked at him, and Albus frowned. "Even forty year old men couldn't keep up with you. You're a wild one, love."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm the only one man enough for you."

"Are you now?"

"You married me, didn't you?"

"Only in the tradition of my village. According to the laws here, it's illegal for us to wed."

Albus scowled. He'd almost hexed the man at the courthouse when he refused to give them a marriage license because of Asenath's color. If she hadn't been there, Albus would've been in jail for murder.

"That has to be among the most ridiculous laws I've ever heard."

"It's not different from the purebloods discriminating against half-bloods and Muggle-borns," Asenath reminded him.

"Doesn't make it any less ridiculous."

"But we're not wanting anything, are we, love? We have a nice house, a nice plot of land, and we're beginning to create a nice family. I am content."

Albus smiled lovingly at his wife. "So am I, love." He kissed her temple softly.

They worked in silence for a few moments when suddenly he heard her groan.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My back just went out. I can't get up, Albus!"

He would've laughed if he didn't hear the genuine fear and panic in her voice. He gathered her uprooted weeds with his and put them in his bag before lifting her in his arms. She hugged his neck tightly and moaned in pain as he walked to their bedroom. He pulled back the patchwork quilt and eased her gently onto the bed. He turned to leave.

"Albus, don't leave me!" she gasped.

"Never, love. I'm going to get the potion that you use on me. It will make the pain go away."

"Is it safe for the baby?"

"Do you trust me, love?"

"I trust you with my life!"

"I will be back shortly." He was lucky he brewed the potion earlier that week. His work at the lumber mill was backbreaking. Often Asenath would massage his tender muscles after a hard day's work. It was one of the most relaxing and serene feelings he'd ever have. Albus quickly located the vial and brought it to the room. Asenath had her eyes closed, and a wince marred her features. His heart broke at seeing her in so much pain.

"I'm here, darling. Take off your dress, so I can rub your back." Asenath gasped as she lifted her back from the bed. Albus placed the vial down and quickly went to her side. He helped her sit up and take off her clothes. Albus felt the familiar tightening in his groin at the sight of her naked form, but her distress cooled his ardor somewhat.

"Lay on your side, love, so I can get to your back."

She sucked in a breath of pain as she made the movement, and his heart cracked even more.

"You know I don't like to see you in pain, love." He poured the potion in his hand and began to rub it into her lower back gently.

She hissed in pain. "In two more months, I'm going to be in even more pain that this."

"I know. I'll be there for you then as I am now."

"I know, darling."

He continued to administer his ministrations as they drifted into silence. Her directions for his hands and the occasional sound of pain punctured it. When he felt her body relax, he knew her pain was gone, but he didn't stop his caresses.

"Do you regret this?"

"Regret what, dear?"

"Being pregnant? Having this baby?"

She made to roll onto her back, and he let her, lifting his hands long enough for her to complete the motion. He began to stroke her swollen belly.

"Dear Albus, of course not! We've been trying since we were married to have this babe. Now that she's here, I am so happy, love."

"But the doctor said it will be a complicated pregnancy and birth. You or the baby could die . . ."

"Like you said, the good doctor can't have babies. Personally I think we should've consulted the voodoo doctor but nooo. . . you wanted the Muggle doctor."

"The voodoo doctor doesn't make house calls, love. It's dangerous for you to leave the house. Those men with sheets could find where we live and hurt you. And besides, you're so beautiful you're bound to find a younger man and run off with him," he teased.

Asenath snorted. "Oh please! I can barely walk let alone run. Now if he puts me on a white horse, there's no stopping me . . ."

Albus tickled her sides, and she squealed with delight. His eyes drifted to her breasts as they jiggled with her movements.

His crotch reacted accordingly.

"Are you looking at my bosom, Albus?" There was a tease in her voice, and he grinned, his eyes never leaving her chest.

"Your breasts are lovely, dear, just like the rest of you. The very sweetest of bonbons, they are."

She snorted again. "I'm hardly lovely now, Albus. I'll wager you used an Expanding Charm to fit me in this cottage since I'm now as big as it is."

He shook his head and looked at her adoringly. "You're the most beautiful creature to walk this earth, especially so since you carry my child. My child . . ." His voice drifted into silence as he placed a tender kiss upon her protruding belly button. Her stomach dipped at the contact of his lips on her skin, and he heard her sigh.

"I feel his heart beating beneath your flesh. It's so surreal, love."

He felt her fingers comb through his hair.

"I wonder what she will look like?" she mused.

"Dark skin with a shock of bright red hair, after me, of course," he said on a laugh. Her stomach shook with her laughter, and he kissed it lovingly.

"Or maybe pale skin, my amber eyes, but with your twinkle in them?"

"I hope he looks like you. I wouldn't wish my child to come out as foul looking as I did."

"Shut your mouth, Albus Dumbledore. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen!"

"Oh stop . . ." he said exaggeratedly, looking at her with his chin on her belly. He batted his eyelashes coquettishly, and Asenath laughed.

"No, really! You don't look a day over thirty. I'm sure you have women throwing themselves at you every time you go to the lumber mill."

"Jealous, love?"

"It would be easier for you to go with them," she said sadly.

He picked up her hands and kissed the backs of them. "I don't want easy. I want you. I have you. And I aim to keep you--till I die, and even beyond." His hands caressed her abdomen in gentle strokes before his hands drifted higher to her chest. He cupped her breasts in his palms, testing the weight of them. They spilled out of his hands, having grown larger since they began to fill with milk. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, and she moaned.

"All-boos . . ." she groaned. He moved between her legs and drew himself over her body, allowing his tongue to flick her nipples briefly before getting face to face with her.

"I'm ready to plant my seed in your garden," he said seductively.

"Your last crop hasn't been harvested yet, love. I'm afraid you have two more months to wait."

"That didn't stop you from weeding the garden outside!"

"It was necessary if we wanted to eat that the garden be weeded, so the plants could grow properly."

"Fine. Can I do some weeding, then?"

"ALBUS!"

He gave a bark of laughter and kissed her soundly. It was a long, thorough kiss where both became lost in the other. He pulled away briefly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, slightly disappointed his mouth left hers.

He grinned. "Told you, you shouldn't do any weeding today."

"Poppycock."

"No! I was right! The doctor warned you, I warned you, and what happened? You hurt your back. Now you're probably bedridden for the next month."

Asenath frowned, but then a grin appeared. "But imagine, darling. If I didn't work on that garden, when would you have had the opportunity today to work on this one?"

There was a space of silence before he cackled madly. "Oh, you saucy woman! Come here, you!"

He suddenly became aware of the snapping fingers in front of his face, and he jerked with alertness.

"Hi, Grandpa! Nice to see you've rejoined the land of the living!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat as he turned his attention back on his granddaughter.

"Jamilah--"

"I get the feeling I really don't want to know where you were just then, so I ain't gonna ask," she interrupted.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Smart girl."

"Your blood does flow through me . . ."

He smiled gently at her and put his hand across the table. She grasped it and squeezed.

"You and Nia are the only people left to carry on my Asenath's dreams and legacy. We have to win. This was her dying wish to me, and I'll be dead in my grave before surrendering Asenath's heir!"

Jamilah covered his hand with hers. "We will find a way to do this without it coming to that. We have to. Nia's all I have left."

"You have me, also, love."

She gave a small smile. "Yes, I do. I just miss them, Grandpa. I miss Malika so much. It was so quiet in the house while Nia was at school."

"A little birdie told me a Mr. Wigam had been by to call on you many a time . . ."

Jamilah's eyes widened then narrowed. "Felicia talks too damn much," she muttered.

"Oh, come now, darling. It's been almost twenty years since Frank died. You have so much more of your life to live yet. Besides, you don't look a day over thirty-five. . ."

Jamilah snorted. "Grandpa, while I may live to be over a hundred, very few men around here could make the same claim . . ."

"You should move to England. The wizarding population is vast, and you're bound to find someone who's worthy of you."

"Sounds like you already have someone in mind," she said dryly.

"Well, Alastor has been asking much about you recently . . ."

Jamilah glared at him. "Will you ever quit? Mad Eye don't care 'bout nothin' but the Dark Arts."

"But you--"

"Don't go there, Granddad."

His twinkling eyes peered at her over his half-moon glasses in amusement. She sucked her teeth and crossed her arms at her chest.

"But seriously. Come to Hogwarts. Be the DADA professor."

She scoffed. "Ain't that job jinxed?"

"Jamilah!"

She snorted. "Oh no, Granddad. Malika never had the same DADA professor when she went there, and apparently that trend has stayed constant even till now. And you want me to go teach it? I'm liable not to come back . . ."

"The problem was we never had a competent professor in the position, or if we did, extenuating circumstances caused the person to leave."

"What if these extenuating circumstances occurred again this year, hmm? Nia needs someone she can trust. I'm all that girl's got right now."

"She has Severus, and Caleb, and Elle, and Angelina . . ."

"She hardly knows them--Severus included. Does she know he works for Voldemort?"

"Well, no . . ."

"And how do you think she'll react when she does? She's already suffered one of the greatest betrayals in her life; finding out about Severus' other job will not be a good thing."

"This is what I know. But you're very necessary to the Cause."

"But what about my house? Ain't nobody here but me!"

"I will place a charm on it. No one will be the wiser you're not here."

"I'm old, Granddad. I don't have the patience to be teachin' kids that age. I don't even know the curriculum!"

"That's a lie, and you know it. You all but home-schooled Nia from the age of nine till last year! She was practically doing fourth year level work in DADA."

"So?"

"So! You can do it."

"There are only two weeks left before the school year begins, Granddad."

"Crash course."

She was silent for a moment. "What is the real reason you want me there?"

"Remember what I said about the new target?"

"Yes, but you also said it's not Nia . . ."

"While that is true, your services will be needed."

Jamilah's eyes grew wide. "Those services? But those are for those with ancient magic, like Nia and Malika . . ."

He gazed at her, his blue eyes void of their familiar twinkle. "Miss Weasley has started to dream of her past life--her life as Nephthys. She is the Dark Lord's next target."