Ragnarok Rising

Prologue

Pain. Pain in such magnanimous amounts that one could smell it, taste it, feel it in the air. The night was heavy with the suffering of innocents, dead before their times; murdered in cold blood.

The wind howled, as if sharing their agony, as it whistled through the rubble - all that remained of a vivacious and spirited neighbourhood. Reminders of the world that was no more lurked around every corner: the head of a doll, black with dust and grime, the chess piece, cracked and shattered to a point where it was unrecognisable, a baby blanket, poking out of a broken window.

The attack had been so brutal, so sudden and so unexpected that the inhabitants had not realised what was happening - even as they were tortured and killed without a trace of mercy. There were no survivors.

The wind whipped up a frenzied storm of dust that cloaked the ruins, hiding the site within a veil of black smog. Three figures emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, to stand there, surveying the destruction.

"It has begun." The voice was melodic; filled with profound grief and regret. The figure that had spoken turned to her two companions.

"Of course it has, Verdandi. It has been spun," the smallest of the three whispered, as if in consolation. Verdandi sighed, shaking her head in frustration.

"I realise that, Urda, but there is so much death...so much pain."

"There will be more, Verdandi, before all this is over - much, much more," murmured the only figure who had not spoken, placing a hand sympathetically in Verdandi's shoulder. "We must return and inform the others of our findings. Valhalla must be ready and the Valkyries prepared when the fighting truly begins."

"Of course, Skuld, you are right," Verdandi said heavily, "but I wish there was more that we could do! They are but mere mortals and yet our fate is sealed with theirs! In all our confusion, we have woven them a task that is next to impossible; but should they fail, Fenrir will escape from his bindings, Vithofnir will crow, Heimdall will blow his horn - and Ragnarok will begin."

"We have linked their destruction to our own," finished Urda gravely. "What a position we have managed to put ourselves in."

"Maybe there is still hope. The future is not as dark as it would be should the Custodiae Lucis be doomed to failure and the Mephis Feres destined to victory," Skuld reassured them, gesturing the need to leave to her companions. "Come. Let us return to Asgard."

Nodding resolutely, the Fates vanished, leaving behind no trace of their presence.

The air around the place crackled with innate magic, signalling the end of an era and the beginning of the time of change.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Godric's Hollow has been destroyed."

The Great Hall was completely silent. No one moved; no one even breathed. The Headmaster's words had opened their eyes and tugged them from their safe little fantasies, which they had built around themselves, so abruptly that not one of them knew how to react. They had believed that the war was still far away in the future. They had spent their time thinking that they would at least have graduated before joining the war effort. They had been so wrong.

"The time has now come," Dumbledore continued, "to choose your paths, to decide your destinies. But I urge you to consider your options carefully. Do not walk a path because it is expected of you; walk your path because you have chosen to walk that path." He threw a significant glance around the room, lingering on each of the house tables. "Take the path that you wish to take - regardless of what other people expect of you. Make the choice. This is the most important choice you will ever have to make."

No one missed the underlying meaning of the speech and everyone knew who the speech was aimed at: those with Death Eater parents.

'You do not have to become a Death Eater."

The phrase echoed around the Hall as if the words had been said. The time for masks and lies was gone - it was time for true allegiances to be revealed.

That day, and for years afterwards, the noise within Hogwarts was subdued. The students walked the halls of the school cautiously, their lively chatter dimmed to painful murmurs. Their time as children had been cut short.

Owls swarmed the Great Hall every morning; some bearing words of comfort, others demanding that the recipient return home for various reasons.

Dread and suspicion lingered in every room. Friends clung together closer than before, fearing the day when they would be ripped from one another - a day that could be closer than they imagined possible.

All students below Sixth Year were either sent home, if their parents wished for it, or to safe houses all over the world to wait out the War. The Sixth and Seventh Years were given the option to leave Hogwarts and return to their families or to go with the younger years, if they had no wish to be a part of the War. It was only fair: no one should have to witness the horrors that would come with War experience. However, most chose to remain and fight beside their friends.

The volunteers would soon be joined by other members of the Custodiae Lucis, the Guardians of the Light, whose key players were making their way to Hogwarts from all over the world.

Everyone would be trained in the arts of war - modern magic would no longer be enough.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It is done, my friends." Albus Dumbledore stood at the window of the Staff Common Room, looking out onto the vast grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school was under a temporary spell which would keep it from being found by the other side whilst they trained their forces, but the spell would not last forever: it was far too draining to keep up constantly, but, for now, the school could only be found by those who meant the inhabitants no harm.

The Headmaster sighed and moved to sit in one of the chairs, facing his colleagues.

"The Fates have chosen. The Treasures of Tuatha Dé Danann have reawakened, and the heirs of the Druids of Dana are coming to their powers." He shook his head. "We can only hope - pray - that they are on our side." He nodded resolutely, obviously determined not to give up hope. "We will pray that they have chosen well."

He gazed around at the shocked faces of the people around him.

"You mean..." Minerva trailed off, not knowing how to voice her question; but everyone knew what she wanted to ask - everyone wanted that same question answered.

"Yes, Minerva: Judgement Day is near; Ragnarok is on our doorstep.

To Be Continued...

A few things to note:

Urda, Verdandi and Skuld are the Fates (called Norns) from Norse Mythology. Urda is past, Verdandi is present and Skuld is future. Skuld, the youngest and most beautiful of the three, sometimes rides with the Valkyries.

Valkyries are the Choosers of the Slain. Skuld sometimes rides with the Valkyries who ride into the battles and lead the souls of dead warriors to Valhalla, the Hall of the Dead, to where the souls of dead warriors are guided.

'Fenrir will escape from his bindings, Vithofnir will crow, Heimdall will blow his horn...' These are all signs of Ragnarok's arrival.

Asgard is the home of the Gods.

Ragnarok is the end of the world and the doom of the Gods.

Custidiae Lucis translates roughly to Guards of Light (Latin). This is the name of the army of the 'Light Side' i.e. Dumbledore's army etc. I got bored with the clichéd names!

Mephis Feres translates to Haters if Light (not sure what language). This is the name of the army of the 'Dark Side' i.e. Voldemort's army.

The Treasure of Tuatha Dé Danann and the Druids of Dana will be explained at a later date. I've played around with this a little so it is not the same is it is in Celtic Mythology.