The Osiris Song

"I must find zis map."

Hermione managed not to splash hot tea on her hand, but the biscuits were a wash. Cursing under her breath, she swept the soggy cookies into the trash bin as she responded. "Fleur, whatever this map is that Voldemort is after, we don’t want to help him find it." She carried the tray - minus the cookies but with some good slices of bread and butter - to the table, where Fleur was seated between Harry and Ron at the round kitchen table. The two young men looked a little nervous to be seated so close to her - they were obviously afraid she was going to stun them and run out the door in search of vengeance, much as she had done to Hermione at Gringotts. Hermione wanted to smack the pair of them.

"Yeah, Fleur," Ron agreed. "Whatever this Osiris Song is, if You-Know-Who wants it so badly, the last thing we need to be doing is finding it for him."

Fleur looked pale and shaky, and her eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, but the deadly cold that had haunted her face when Hermione saw her in Gringotts was gone, replaced with a weariness that made Hermione's own bones feel heavy. The veela had described Pettigrew's memories to them, but the young witch knew HEARING the memories and actually SEEING them could never compare. For a moment, her eyes strayed to Ron, and she imagined how she would feel seeing him murdered in her mind, over and over again. A sharp pain stabbed her in the stomach, and she reached under the table to take his hand and squeeze. He glanced at her, a little surprised, then smiled and squeezed back.

"You do not understand," Fleur said quietly, staring at the tabletop. "Zis song… I must find it." When she looked up, Hermione was struck by the desperation on her face. "Do you not know what it iz?"

All eyes turned to the young witch, and Hermione felt herself blush. "Honestly, you all were in school as well," she said, shifting in her seat. "You should know, too."

"That's what's so great about knowing you, Hermione," Ron said, grinning as he squeezed her hand again. "We don't need to know. All we have to do is ask you."

She glared at him, and was pleased to see him blush. "Well, since SOME of us were obviously too lazy to pay attention in History of Magic," she said through gritted teeth, "I'll remind you." She looked at each person in turn. "You all know the story of the resurrection of Osiris, correct?"

Fleur nodded, but Harry and Ron both looked like beached fish, searching for sanctuary. "Erm… Why don't you pretend that we DON'T, Hermione," Harry said. "Just… give us a quick overview."

She arched an eyebrow. "Fine." She sat back and began to tell the tale.

"Osiris was a god of ancient Egypt. He is best known as God of the Underworld, though he began life as a fertility god. He was well-liked by the people of Ancient Egypt, and myth states that his brother, Seth, became extremely jealous of his brother's popularity. Seth is generally considered a god of evil and confusion, so it's no wonder he decided to murder his brother out of envy. He was quite thorough, actually, and chopped Osiris into tiny bits, which he then scattered on the Nile, where they would - presumably - be lost forever."

"Bloody hell," Ron said, making a face.

"Yes, well, that's not where it ends." She took a sip of tea and continued. "Osiris was married to Isis, goddess of love and nurturing. When Isis learned of her husband's murder, she scoured the Nile for his body, and eventually found every piece. Well… Okay, ALMOST every piece. One… vitally important piece was missing, but she fixed that, so it hardly matters."

"Which piece?" Harry asked, thoroughly enthralled by the story.

Hermione blushed. "I told you, it's not important."

"Then why're you blushing?" Ron asked, grinning.

She gave him an evil look. "It was a vitally important piece of his anatomy. His MALE anatomy. There you go, I've told you now, and if you don't stop harping on it, you'll be praying to Isis to replace that same piece of YOUR anatomy, Ronald Weasley." She dug her nails lightly into his palm to prove she meant it.

He swallowed and stayed quiet.

Satisfied, Hermione turned back to the others. "Once she had him reassembled, she was able to raise him from the dead with the help of Anubis, and they conceived a son, Horus. Horus is the god most closely associated with the pharaoh - the living god, so to speak. Through him, his father's power was seen to be reborn, and while Osiris went to rule the Netherworld, Horus ruled on Earth."

There was silence around the table.

"Um…," Harry finally said. "So… What does this have to do with anything?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Osiris Song is, supposedly, the song Isis sang to guide Osiris' spirit back from the dead.* After all, you can piece a body back together, but without a soul, it's nothing more than an empty husk." She sighed and nibbled on a piece of buttered bread. "Of course, it's all nonsense. Nothing but a story."

"Voldemort does not believe zat."

The three friends looked at the veela, who had remained very quiet during the telling of the story. Fleur had raised her head, and her bloodshot blue eyes were remarkably clear. "Voldemort, 'e believes ze Osiris Song, it iz real. 'E believes it zo strongly, 'e iz willing to kill for it. 'E was willing to torture mon cher for it." She looked to each face in turn. "My Bill, 'e killed 'imself zo Voldemort could not 'ave zis song. 'E did not need to die. It was not 'is time; zere were zo many zings left to do." Her voice went from wistful to steely in a heartbeat. "Voldemort, 'e stole mon coeur from me."

"Fleur," Hermione said gently. "Bill did what he had to do to KEEP the song - if it even exists - from Voldemort. Searching for it is only going to cheapen and nullify that sacrifice."

Fleur turned the full brunt of her blue eyes in Hermione's direction, and the witch felt a shiver work down her back. The cold had not returned, but there was a determination in the other woman's gaze that scared her. "Oui, I know zis, 'Ermione." She nodded faintly. "But I am still going to find zis song. I am going to find it, and I am going to deztroy it, and Voldemort can weep 'iz bloody tears all over zis Earth, becoz 'e will not 'ave it." Her eyes flashed. "But first, I am going to sing ze song and bring my Bill back to me."

Hermione shared a worried look with Ron and Harry. "Fleur," Harry said uncomfortably. "Hermione's right. This song… It's just a myth. If it were real, someone would have found it by now. Do you understand what it is? If this song exists, it would be the only known cure for Avada Kedavra…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes went distant for a moment.

Fleur caught onto the pause and turned to the young man. "Wouldn't you do it, 'Arry?" she murmured. "If it wuz in your 'ands, would you deztroy it, or would you sing it? Would you bring zem back, if you could?"

"That's enough," Hermione said firmly, determined to put a stop to the conversation. "Fleur, I know you're hurting. God knows we all are. But now you're hurting Harry, too. That's not like you; this obsession is killing you. You have to stop and move on." She steeled herself for what she was about to say, though she knew it had to be said. "Bill wouldn't like what you've become, Fleur. He wouldn't recognize his own wife. Is that really what you want?"

The silence that shrouded the table was like thick fog, obscuring all sound. Even their breathing seemed muffled.

"You may be right, 'Ermione," Fleur finally murmured, her pale hands clasped loosely on the table in front of her. Her voice was like a knife in the silence. "But I cannot stop. I cannot breathe wizout 'im." The tears had returned, and they flowed down the veela's white cheeks.

"I would rather be dead," she whispered hoarsely. "Death iz better zen zis agonie." She took a shuddering breath and looked up again. "But if zere is a chance - one chance - zen I must follow it. Don't you zee? 'E died for me. To protect ME. Mon ange, 'e should 'ave let zem kill me. 'E knew I could not live wizout 'im." She looked at Harry, and her face broke down completely. "'Arry… Mon Dieu, forgive me. I… I never meant to 'urt you. I am not as strong as you." She reached up a shaky hand to touch his cheek. "Your parents, zey zee you from where zey are, and zey are zo proud. Zey 'ave a son 'oo any muzzer would be blessed to 'ave." She swallowed and shook her head, speechless for a moment. "My Bill… What does 'e zee? Une femme fieble, lost wizout 'im." She sighed and looked away, out the window at the Egyptian sun. "I am going to do zis to prove to 'im zat I am NOT zat femme." She paused, then added, "And I am doing zis to steal Voldemort's fontaine de la jeunesse." Her jaw hardened as she said it. "I 'ope I make 'im zo angry, 'e comes for me in ze night. I will show 'im ze TRUE power of ze veela." Her knuckles cracked as she tightened her fist.

Hermione was about to protest, but Harry broke in first. "Fleur," he said quietly, "you're wrong."

The veela looked at him, obviously surprised by his statement. "Ce qui?"

"I said you're wrong," he repeated. "When Bill sees you - and he DOES see you - he doesn't see a weak woman. He sees his wife, and he sees that she's hurting. But he doesn't think you're weak, and he certainly doesn't want you to go baiting Voldemort like this. Especially not for such a futile cause."

Then Fleur did something none of them expected.

She smiled.

"You are sweet, 'Arry," she said gently, touching his hand on the table. "But you do not understand. Zis is not futile."

"You're chasing a myth, Fleur," Ron reminded her. "I'd say that about defines futility."

She shook her head and turned her smile in his direction. "Non," she replied.

"I don’t see what makes you so sure," Hermione interjected. "After all, if this song existed, someone would have found it by now."

At this, Fleur's smile widened. "Zat is jus' it, 'Ermione," she said. "I zink I know where it iz."

There was dead silence at the table for a very long minute.

"Well why the hell didn't you say that in the bloody first place!" Ron exclaimed.

TBC…