Of Gods And Wizards

Chapter 1 - Never kick a poisonous snake just to see what happens.

"So, all is in motion."

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"I'm an omniscient being. All of my ideas are good ones."

"Pardon me for saying, but you aren't really omniscient."

"Yes, well. This wasn't my idea."

"Of course. Just out of curiosity, this twisting fate thing. Does it normally work out?"

"I wouldn't know. Wow, that feels great. Not knowing. You know, I've known everything about everything for quite some time now."

"How dull."

"You have no idea."

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Long ago, the two most powerful and naturally magical wizarding families resided in a city far, far to the north. It was a place as enchanting and mysterious as it was beautiful, a place of myths and legends, a place they called Asgard.

These families, both equal in magical ability and power, were known as the Vanir and the Aesir, and although they could have done much good had they combined forces, their greed and thirst for control over the city of Asgard blinded them and ensured that this alliance would never come to pass. They waged a constant war, wreaking havoc and terror throughout the lands. So great was the fear of the conflicting families, that all the people of the north fled from Asgard, leaving behind them the wrath of what were believed to be gods.

At one point in time, the families fought a war of such great magnitude that each side paid a heavy price and suffered terribly for its losses. It was then that the families agreed the war must finally end. They put aside their differences to make an oath of peace and bring relief to Asgard. To ensure this time of accord, each family sent members of high prestige and value to hold a place in the others' house.

In good faith, the Vanir sent their most renowned wizard and his two children. The Aesir, in return, sent a man of great form and appearance, who they claimed was fit to rule, along with their wisest wizard. Some time passed before the Vanir discovered that they had been cheated by the Aesir. Indeed, the handsome man was not fit to rule after all. The Aesir had sent a man who, although he appeared to be noble and esteemed, was not mentally able. The Vanir responded in a fit of rage, and ended the life of both impostors.

Fortunately, war did not break out once again. The Aesir knew they had done wrong, and did not want to suffer further if they could avoid it. Even so, a strong tension remained between the two families. Over the centuries the Aesir gathered more and more power in the far northern city of Asgard, while the Vanir slowly became forgotten. Though after many ages, both families were eventually reduced to an ancient myth of rivaling deities

The peoples of their land moved on, but always carried the stories of the fabled divinities with them. The stories melted into tales, the tales merged with legends, the legends became myths, and soon any reality in the story of the wizarding families Vanir and Aesir was lost. However, though much time had elapsed, the remaining descendants of the families still lived in Asgard, now merely a mythical city.

There was still a fragile peace between the two families, until a day in which the unforeseen and most unexpected thing happened. One of the most highly regarded members of the family of Aesir was found murdered, and the blame was placed on the Vanir before the possibility that it could have been anyone else was even explored. The remaining members of the Vanir house, now heavily outnumbered by the Aesir, were banished from the magical city where they had dwelled for so many years.

All hope of ever returning home and restoring peace to the city of Asgard was lost to the Vanir. So out of desperation they journeyed south, taking an extraordinary book to an extraordinary place, to solve a great mystery and return order to the beloved land of the north, and, undeniably, the rest of the world.

They went with a mission, a desperate prayer to six young heroes, to solve a puzzle of conflicting prophecies so that the world as we know it might escape a terrible fate...

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"Urgh." Harry made a face as an extremely friendly plant oozed purple onto his robes.

It was surprisingly warm in the greenhouse for December, and quiet too, with only the faint whir of falling snow, and the scuffling of students struggling to repot their latest Herbology assignment. Professor Sprout was busy assisting a couple of Hufflepuffs who had ended up in a skirmish with their plant that resulted in a bout of name-calling and dirt throwing.

Ron sniggered as Harry valiantly tried to fend off the flirtatious plant, "I think it likes you, Harry."

"No kidding, Ron? I thought it was just feeling me up for exercise." He scooted away, avoiding another swipe from the plant, and bumped into Hermione. She scowled, and mentioned something about poor study habits in the classroom. Harry grinned, and glanced at her. She was looking quite frustrated with her own plant, which kept walloping her in the face. Obviously, the plants were quite sexist.

"Now students, I want you to be extra careful when shuffling in the rest of the soil. These little fellows can get quite feisty if you plant them the wrong way." Professor Sprout was saying as she demonstrated the right way to plant a Kjonn Bush. They were rather spongy-looking and leafy, with a very large bud in the middle. Harry thought they rather resembled giant soggy cabbages.

"With Professor Sprout's worship for plants, who needs a love life?" joked Ron, as Hermione gave him a slightly exasperated look.

"Well, it could be worse. She could be in a relationship with Snape." Harry said, trying, and failing, to block the image out of his mind.

"Congratulations on supplying me with the most foul mental image ever. I mean, we use these tables to... pot plants, and, ugh. That's disgusting."

Hermione smiled. Clearly she enjoyed the look on Ron's face too much not to throw in a comment. "You know, I saw them cosying up in the corridor right before Potions the other day."

Ron gagged.

Most of the class was nearly finished shoveling the dirt around their ostentatious Kjonns, when a loud screech sounded from across the room. Harry turned around quickly to hear where the noise was coming from.

"Blimey! Neville's been eaten!" yelled Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff who was looking quite alarmed.

Justin was quite right, too. Neville Longbottom, an extremely accident prone Gryffindor, was being swallowed head first by the bud of his angry Herbology assignment. Harry couldn't help feeling that the plant probably had reason to eat Neville. Although Neville was a great friend, he wasn't the most scrupulous with his schoolwork. Professor Sprout hurried over, and whispered what must have been a soothing spell to the plant.

It was a comical sight, Harry mused, as Neville's legs flailed wildly about. But his grin quickly bubbled into hysterical laughter as the plant emitted a loud burp and spit Neville out with a wave of purple goop.

"Oi, Neville! Now you see what happens when you ask a plant to sleep with you, eh?" Ron was rolling with laughter as Neville whimpered and proceeded to wipe the slime from his eyes.

Just then, the door opened to expose a pale, blonde haired boy who sauntered into the room as if he owned it, though his facial expression made it appear as if he was repulsed to enter. Of course, he probably was. The boy, Harry knew too well, was none other than his Slytherin rival, Draco Malfoy.

Harry watched suspiciously as Draco reached Professor Sprout, and handed her a torn piece of parchment. He looked as though he'd rather have all of his internal organs pulled out through his ears than have Professor Sprout read it. This, of course, delighted Harry, who had rarely seen Draco so uncomfortable. A hushed silence suddenly came over the room, most likely due to the fact that Harry, along with his housemates, had a boiling hatred for Draco Malfoy.

Professor Sprout read the note to herself, and dusted some dirt off of her robes before speaking, "All right then, if I may have your attention," obviously unaware that everyone was already focused on her. "Mr. Malfoy requests--"

"Requests?" said Draco, glaring.

Professor Sprout continued without notice, "that the following students follow him up to the castle to--" she glanced back down at the parchment, as if to make sure she was reading correctly. "Await further instructions."

"Never knew Malfoy to request anything from anyone," whispered Ron, as Sprout called out Seamus Finnigan's name.

"Well, of course he didn't write the note. Take a look, you can sort of see through the parchment with the lighting, and the angle she's holding it up at," Hermione hissed, as Seamus, a broad-shouldered Gryffindor made his way to the door, looking rather bewildered. "Can you recognise the handwriting? Is it Dumbledore's?"

As Professor Sprout called out the name of Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff, Harry pointed to his glasses. "Glasses. Bad eyesight. Besides, how would I know if it was Dumbledore's, anyway?"

While the thin pale girl with black hair made her way across the classroom, Hermione eyed him expectantly.

Harry looked at her. "Hermione, I can't see it."

He turned back to glower at Malfoy just in time to see him flinch as Professor Sprout called out "Harry Potter."

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. What on earth, he thought, would Malfoy want with me? Warily, he made his way to the door as Ron whispered something to Hermione, who nodded in agreement.

The next thing he knew, he was standing knee-deep in the falling snow. A puzzled-looking Seamus shivered, and said, "Harry, do you have any idea what this is about?"

Before Harry could answer, Ron had exited the greenhouse. He looked fairly livid, and his red hair stood out brightly against the snowy background. "What has that sodding git done us in for now? I swear, the second he walks out that door, I'll--"

Hermione interrupted him, as she joined the odd group that was forming outside of the greenhouse. "No, you won't. Do you think, by the look on his face, that he wants us to be here? I mean, he wasn't smirking... or sneering, even."

"Ah, well. I'll try harder next time," scoffed Draco as he reluctantly joined them. Ron was about to remark, but Draco persisted. "And Weasley, sorry to let you down, but this was not an invitation by me, nor is it an offer for sex." Draco had left the greenhouse, and strutted ahead, managing to keep a little distance between himself and the rest of the group. He had obviously recovered from his acerbic mood (though truthfully, it was difficult to tell his acerbic mood from his regular one), and resorted to sexual references, which had been a bit of a newfound forte he'd picked up entering his teen years.

Harry ignored him; he was good at that. "Malfoy, enough. What is all this rubbish about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Oh wait. This is you we're talking about. No, it isn't. How about 'each man for himself', instead." Draco sneered. "I've just followed instructions. So would you shut your over-sized mouth and follow me?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply harshly, but Hermione elbowed him and he reluctantly closed it. The group quietly followed Draco's hooded figure, trudging through the snow, back up to the castle. The days were getting shorter the further they drew into December, and the sun was nearly set, casting great shadows over the castle.

"Since when do we follow Malfoy? This is ridiculous; we don't even know where he's taking us. What if he's leading us into a trap of some sort?" Ron said haughtily, betwixt Harry and Hermione.

"Oh yes, I'm sure a Professor gave him permission for that. Besides, we're going to see Dumbledore." Hermione replied, as if this was completely obvious.

Harry gaped at her. "What? How do you know?"

"Because of this," Hermione said, as she pulled a torn piece of parchment out of her pocket.

Harry read over it. It was exactly as Professor Sprout had translated it, with one adjustment. It was signed, Albus Dumbledore. "Wow, Hermione. You're brilliant. How on earth did you make off with it?"

"I asked Malfoy for it as I walked out of the room. Obviously he was quite shaken, or he never would have given it to me." Hermione beamed proudly.

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Draco was, suffice to say, very put out. He'd been enjoying his regular lie-down during Professor Binn's class when he was handed the instructions to go dig up a couple students from Herbology. That would have been enough to twist his knickers, but then he saw the list of the students he had to attain. It had taken a fair sum of will power to drag himself through the snow to the greenhouses, and a fair amount more to set foot in them.

Now, he was trouncing through the snow with people he'd sooner step on, than look at. It was not how he had wanted to spend his evening.

Draco ran over the list in his head again. Truth was, he had no idea what any of this was about, but was content with the fact that he, at any rate, knew more about what was going on than Harry Potter. He just knew his orders-- that these students were to report to the hall outside of Dumbledore's office.

And so he led them up the stairs, through the huge wooden doors of Hogwarts, down the twisting stone corridors, to a quiet hall in the company of a stone Gargoyle. Abruptly he stopped, kneeled down, and took a place on the floor next to the wall.

All of the others were staring at him expectantly. He could have told them his instructions, but decided against it. "Would you all stop leering at me? People are going to think I just broke up with one of you or something."

Everyone but Potter sat down. Of course Potter didn't sit down. Potter would ask questions. Draco hated answering questions, unless of course, he could think of a witty response. Which was often. But he still hated answering questions.

And sure enough, Potter started firing immediately. "Malfoy, what're you playing at? What's this all about?"

"Sit down Potter, before you give yourself a nose bleed." Draco said, smirking arrogantly.

"Is now really the time to smirk at me like you know something I don't, you pretentious bastard?" Potter said, bristling in an irritated manner.

"It's always time to smirk, and, surprise, I do know something you don't."

Obviously Potter was disconcerted by the remark, and its' subtle, annoying truth. Seething with fury, he clenched his fists in an agitated way. Draco's mood improved a great deal. He watched Potter mope back over to Weasley and Granger.

Suddenly Finnigan decided he needed to open his mouth. "Malfoy, is this about you trying to get us in trouble?"

"Yes. I got you in trouble, which is why I'm sitting here in a hall with people like you and Potter and Granger and Weasley, whom I hate with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, when I could easily be catching up on my beauty sleep. Don't you figure I might be in a much better mood if that were the case?" Draco retorted.

Hermione, looking offended, said, "We've never done anything to you."

"Did I say a thousand suns? Make that ten thousand."

They all sat wordlessly for a couple more minutes, and right in the middle of what seemed to be a vicious leering contest between Draco and Seamus, the gargoyle jumped to the side revealing a secret passage.

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Staring anxiously at the newly revealed passage, the group waited for something to happen. When nothing appeared to ensue, Harry stood up, and walked inside. After all, he did know the way, having been there on a fairly regular basis. Hermione and Ron got up and followed him, trailed apprehensively by the remaining three of the company.

As the six walked up the ascending spiral staircase, Harry led the way to Dumbledore's office. Once he reached the door, and the trailing company caught up, Harry did the only reasonable thing he could think of. He knocked.

The door opened to reveal an office where he had spent quite a lot of time, relative to the majority of the other Hogwarts students, who weren't normally invited in. Harry cautiously walked in, and saw not one, but three wizards. He recognised Albus Dumbledore immediately, with his half-moon spectacles and long silver beard. He looked frail and old sitting behind his great wooden desk, and the witch and wizard at either side reminded Harry of kingly advisors, dressed in regal robes of heavy white and gray. He had never met them before, and did not recognise them in the least. He thought they rather looked like brother and sister, both tall and thin with striking ice-blue eyes. The way they sat, so nobly and seriously, added to the air of solemnity that settled heavily in the room.

"Splendid. Now that we're all here, may I introduce some of my distant relatives, Freyr, and Freya," Dumbledore spoke jovially, but the merriment did not reach his eyes. He gestured to the two wizards next to him. "Why don't you take a seat," he continued, and six identical wooden chairs appeared magically in a row in front of them. Hesitantly, the group sat down. "I've invited you all to my office today to ask for a small favour."

Harry looked over suddenly as Malfoy made a choking noise. Apparently Malfoy was taking 'favour' in a different meaning than the rest of them. Harry thought to himself that Malfoy must be the only person who could make sexual references at a time like this. He then realised that he had made the same reference, and silently told himself to shut up.

Dumbledore continued. "I need to ask you to go on a little hike."

Malfoy looked at Dumbledore as if he had just sprouted an extra head. "A hike? You must be joking. That's it?"

"Aside from a few minor details, yes," Dumbledore's eye twinkled slightly.

Harry decided to chime in, "What minor details?"

Dumbledore mumbled something inaudible.

Hermione raised her hand, as if she was in class. Dumbledore looked to her, and she said. "Excuse me, can you repeat that?"

This time, the voice came from Freyr, the wizard sitting closest to Dumbledore. He snapped in a highly impatient manner. "Retrieve an ancient sword from the poisonous pits of a deadly river in order to activate an ancient relic that may or may not tell us why the universe has become distorted due to an unforeseen event!"

Dumbledore's smile twitched faintly as he turned slowly towards the wizard who had spoken out. For a moment Harry thought Dumbledore might be angry with the strange foreign wizard for joking like that, but the thought was immediately perished.

"I'm sorry," Freyr grumbled, his blue eyes flashing. "I just hate it when people need things spelled out for them."

"That could very well be the most idiotic thing I have ever heard." Malfoy stared at Dumbledore and the others. "I'm not going anywhere, especially with this lot. And especially not to fetch some stupid sword from a poisonous river! I'll have you know my father--"

"This is quite a serious matter, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid you don't have much choice. You are magically obligated to go." Dumbledore shook his head, as if he knew this could develop into quite an argument.

"I can't stand being in the same room with Malfoy, let alone the same castle! How am I supposed--" Harry began, but he was interrupted by the pale, quiet Hufflepuff, Susan Bones.

"Why us, Professor? Out of all the students at Hogwarts, what compelled you to choose the six of us?" She spoke with a soft firmness to her voice that surprised Harry, as he had completely forgotten she was there. He had never taken a notice to her before, anyway.

"That's an excellent question, Ms. Bones. One that I was just about to answer. But first, how about a little story?" Dumbledore smiled at the amount of jaws dropping in the room. Harry thought it was a rather odd time for a story, but over the years he had learned to trust Dumbledore's judgment. "You probably haven't heard it before, I doubt many stories revolve around the death of a god..."

"The death of a god?!" Ron's eyes grew big, and Hermione fidgeted excitedly in her seat. Harry sighed silently. This was just the thing to make his sixth year at Hogwarts complete.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes, this is a story about the death of a god."