- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger Viktor Krum
- Genres:
- General Romance
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/09/2003Updated: 11/20/2003Words: 224,686Chapters: 100Hits: 71,003
Past Present
Miss Yetigoosecreature
- Story Summary:
- Hermione, Harry, and Ron visit Viktor Krum in Bulgaria and discover there's a lot more to Viktor's past than they could have imagined.
Chapter 95
- Chapter Summary:
- Dumbledore gives some more answers, what it means to be equals, a bit of kismet, and find out what prompts Ron to say "Myth, my Aunt Fanny!"
- Posted:
- 10/21/2003
- Hits:
- 606
- Author's Note:
- As always, Croft gets a mention for being a wonderful beta. And putting up with my rapidly multiplying plot bunnies. Plot bunnies on steroids. And hormone treatments. Listening to Barry White.
"Years ago, when I was interviewing Sibyll Trelawney for the position of Divination instructor, she had a vision. Much like you experienced when she foretold Wormtail's return to Voldemort two years ago, Harry. She foretold that the one who could defeat the Dark Lord would be born as the seventh month dies. Born to those who had thrice defied him. That's all his spy heard. Eavesdropping at the Hog's Head is woefully easy, but he was luckily thrown out before he could hear the rest. Sibyll was staying there, and I agreed to go there for the interview. The rest of the prophecy said that Voldemort would mark this one as his equal. And that one would have to destroy the other This child would have power that the Dark Lord did not know," Dumbledore said.
"So... that's why he tried to kill me as a baby?" Harry asked.
"Yes. You see, Harry, he thought he could kill the child in the prophecy, and thus keep this child from defeating him in the future. Without the rest of the prophecy, there was no way he could know there was danger in attacking you. That he risked transferring power to you. That scar is the mark he gave you, as his equal," Dumbledore replied.
"I've been stuck as the one to defeat Voldemort because of some prophecy?" Harry stammered.
"Not entirely. You see, Harry, the prophecy could have referred to either of two wizard boys born at the end of July. The other was a pure-blood. Voldemort may just as well have chosen Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore stated, studying Harry through his glasses.
"So... Neville could really be the one who's supposed to defeat Voldemort, not me!" Harry protested.
"No. I'm afraid there's no doubt now as to who the prophecy refers to. Sixteen years ago, it could have been either of you. Two boys, born at the end of July, both with parents in the Order, parents who narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. After he attacked, it was you. Harry, he picked you. He marked you as an equal. When he gave you that scar. He picked the child he identified with most. The one he saw himself in. The half-blood. The scar sealed it. You are the one who has the power to defeat him. It's happened at least once before," Dumbledore finished. "Near as I can determine, Khan Krum, Stoykos, Gustav and Gryndel banded together when they saw the threat coming. It was just kismet that they also happened to be complements. Wizards who proved to be particularly compatible. Able to tap into one another's talents. Talents that multiplied when they were together. I've long had hopes that Harry would also have complements. Someone who could help him defeat Voldemort. Wishful thinking, as much as anything, I suppose. It's rare. Only a couple of dozen very probable cases in all of recorded history, really. Complements who are truly capable of making such a demonstrated use of their powers, rarer still. Most just drew on one another somewhat when necessary... And not all of them allies. There's a story about four who all managed to destroy one another because of a dispute... but no matter. Not important. Krum and Gryndel were already acquainted, and they saw one particular dark wizard as a mutual threat," Dumbledore said softly, adjusting the glasses perched on his crooked nose.
"That would be Nikephoros?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore nodded. "Nikephoros. Seems he had something in common with Voldemort. He was a halfblood as well. And he marked himself an equal."
"You are my equal and therefore my enemy," Viktor murmured.
"What?" Ron squeaked.
"It is what Nikephoros supposedly said to the Khan the first time they met on the battlefield. They fought, hand to hand, face to face, and it remained a draw. You are my equal and therefore my enemy. Before the Khan ever fought with Gryndel and his band. That is why Khan Krum had to be the one who killed him, was it not? And it is why he said what he said. Must be true, then. That legend. The Khan, when he left Prishta, he told his army, 'My enemy is my equal in all. My equal is my enemy.' He came back holding the head of Nikephoros. Nikephoros. The name means 'victory bearer'. They marked each other as equals. Equals cancel each other out. They could haff spent years fighting and neither one winning. In fact, they did," Viktor added.
"But the complements... they tipped the scale... they made it possible..." Hermione mused.
"They made it possible to corner Nikephoros. To take his army down. To overpower him. But Krum had to kill him," Viktor countered.
"So Harry's been fighting Voldemort essentially to a draw, these last few years. Will do, most likely, until he's of age. But... we still don't know how this complements thing works, do we?" Hermione asked, cocking her head curiously at Dumbledore. He merely shook his head in the negative. "Well... let's look at this logically then. All the rest of the prophecy, or whatever you want to call it, is fairly literal. I mean, the Guardian said exactly what he meant, it's just that all the words had double meanings, and we were looking at them the wrong way. Elements of the solution... how they need to be put together... solution... like a math problem..." Hermione said, pursing her lips.
"Put together properly... solution... added together...well, that would just suggest... there's no special incantation... just combining... combining... us... our Patronuses?" Viktor mused, arching an eyebrow.
"Have we ever all four of us cast our Patronuses together?" Hermione asked, perking up and looking around the table. Ron and Harry looked at one another, then gave a slow shake of the head.
"One way to find out if it works... Simultaneous, or just... together, do you think?" Viktor asked Hermione, raising his wand.
"Simultaneous is too hard to pull off. Don't you think just putting them all together in one room would be enough?" she asked hesitantly.
Viktor gave a subtle shrug. "Harry, you first. Cast your Patronus, keep it in the room," Viktor requested. Harry lifted his wand, spoke the incantation, and his stag trotted out and around the kitchen. "Hermione," Viktor nodded in her direction. She lifted her wand and soon, her otter was frolicking along the countertops. "Expecto Patronum," Viktor said in a low voice, and the hawk glided around the perimeter of the ceiling silently. "Ron," Viktor prompted. Ron lifted his wand, wet his lips, and spoke the incantation, and his salamander wriggled from the end of his wand. For a moment, it looked as though all the silvery shapes would continue to bound about aimlessly until they evaporated, but then, as though in response to a silent cue, the stag, otter and salamander gathered motionless in the middle of the room. Waiting.
The hawk suddenly folded its wings against its body and began a steep, rapid plummet straight into the midst of the other three. At first, the four Patronuses seemed to disperse, to dissolve into a foggy mist, shapeless and fading. Then, the rolling billows grew whiter, thicker, drew together, growing, doubling, then growing exponentially. In a rush of air and noise, the mist gathered, forming a large shape. First a scaly, dragonlike snout poked its way out of the middle of the formation, followed by a mouth full of razor sharp, uneven teeth, framed by thick, rubbery lips, pulled back in a grimace. Rushing behind, a long, scaly body, sleek and muscular, shoulders graced with leathery wings spread wide. Folded, Harry could see, they would tuck beneath the scaly, armored plates on the back. Would probably be invisible there. Below hung webbed feet tipped with vicious looking claws.
"Dragon..." Harry breathed.
"No..." Viktor said, with a shake of his head.
"Guardian," Ron stammered, open mouthed. And sure enough, when the head twisted their way, there was a third eye, between the scaly brows, in the center of the forehead. The head cocked quizzically on the end of the long, flexible neck, nostrils flaring, long tail curled beneath as it hovered there over the spot where it had formed. The head shot forward, the jaws opening wide, and a blast of hot air and smoke in the shape of flame whipped back the hair of the people at the table.
The roar was deafening, seemingly interminable, it seemed to shake the very foundations of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry's glasses were fogging, and his ears were ringing by the time the mouth closed, the wispier-looking representation of the Guardian emitted a somewhat self-satisfied snort, and dissolved in a puff of weak mist. The pans hanging on the pot rack were still clattering together, as though they had been in an earthquake when Sirius said in an awed tone, "If you four can do that now... what are you going to be able to do when all four of you are of age?"
"Glory be," Mrs. Weasley muttered, clutching the edges of her dressing gown together anxiously.
"Nastoinik..." Viktor murmured, open mouthed.
Lupin blinked, looking stunned. "I trust that answers all of the questions you four had?" he asked weakly, "I don't think I can take any more revelations."
Viktor turned to face Hermione. "Inclined to relegate them to the status of mere myth, indeed!"
"Myth, my Aunt Fanny!" Ron burst out.
"On that note, we've a meeting to attend. And you've a briefing to give," Dumbledore said, laying a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "You four had better not be late," Dumbledore said with mock sternness. "Drawing room. Ten minutes," he advised as he was rising. Harry took a quick peek out the windows. The moon was shockingly bright for three in the morning.