Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power, Chapter 28

The Flight into Light

by Technomad

With an effort, Ron Weasley opened his gummy eyes. Although he was still racked with pain, something was different. For the first time in a long time, he was---he was cold, he realized. Bitterly cold. His head ached, and his mouth tasted indescribably foul, but something was different. The air itself was different---there was no reek of sulfur in it at all.

Peering around, he was startled to find himself high in the air, being carried along by what looked like a huge bird. To one side, he could see another bird, carrying Hermione; its wings flapped slowly as it soared over roiling clouds. On the bird's back, Ron could make out a familiar figure---it looked like Gandalf, but all in white.

So, this is death, Ron thought muzzily. It isn't so bad. Maybe I'll wake up again in Paradise---his eyelids were growing terribly heavy. His last thought before sliding back into unconsciousness was happiness that Hermione and he were still together.

*

At first, Hermione didn't know where she was. She felt as though she were floating---floating on her back, on a beautiful white cloud. Am I dead? she wondered. She realized that she could hear familiar voices...Professors Snape and Sprout, conferring about something.

"---Mr. Malfoy was in a very bad way, until the king came. I wouldn't have believed he could survive, Severus. I have got to get my hands on some of that 'athelas' and grow it myself."

"I know, Salvia. The short while we've been here has been an incredible education for me, too. But then, I've been able to show them a few things with potions and alchemy that they'd never heard of."

Then came Madam Pomfrey's familiar voice: "Well, the state they were in when they arrived, even without those dreadful wounds---I never saw the like in all my born days!" She clucked disapproval. "I mean to say---malnutrition, dehydration, general debility, and the state of their feet---I can't describe it! And their clothes were absolutely stiff with grime, and falling off their backs!"

Oh. I'm back at Hogwarts, in the hospital wing. Hermione wondered at what she remembered, when she cast her mind back. Dear gods, what dreams I've been having! She opened her eyes, to find herself staring into a familiar face. A face she had never expected to see again, this side of the grave.

"GANDALF!"

The next thing she knew, she was laughing and sobbing with sheer joy, hugging Gandalf so tightly that she later wondered where she had mustered up the strength. Burying her face in his chest, she let her emotions flow freely for the first time in what seemed like forever, feeling a huge weight that she hadn't even been conscious of after bearing it for so long roll off her shoulders and disappear. For a little while, she could be a little girl again, with her father's arms around her, feeling safe and secure from all threats.

After she regained some control of herself, she stared into Gandalf's face. Memories of an author she had loved stirred uneasily in the back of her mind. When she had been a bookish little girl trying to find clues to why she was different, why things happened around her, she had loved C.S. Lewis' Narnia series..."Does this mean that I'm dead?"

Of all the things she could have said, this had apparently been the last one Gandalf had expected. He sat her on his lap, looking deep into her eyes. "No, Miss Granger, you're not dead---and neither am I. You are in Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor, in the Houses of Healing. You all walked close to the shadow of death, and if the King hadn't been close to hand, with a supply of the herb athelas, or kingsfoil, the Black Breath would have been the death of all of you."

At that, memories rushed back into Hermione's mind---memories of their last fight, with the Ringwraith on the slopes of Mount Doom itself. She shuddered, burying her face in Gandalf's robes---his white robes. Looking up, her vision blurred with tears, she asked: "But---the Balrog---how did you live?" Her mouth twisted with remembered grief. "We---we saw you fall!"

At this, a shadow seemed to pass across Gandalf's face, before he smiled at her. "Your thirst for knowledge will make you---has made you---great." He seemed to look into the distance. "Yes, I fell. The Balrog and I struggled for days, through the waters below Khazad-dum, and up through the abandoned dwarven city, until on the uttermost spire of Zirak-Zigil, in the observatory of the dwarven kings, we brought things to an end. I threw him down, and smashed him against the mountain---and I passed beyond. Where I went, I cannot say---but I was sent back, until my task was done. Then, in Lorien, I met some people you may remember." At this, Gandalf spoke up: "You may enter."

Hermione had never been the fanciful type, but she had a hard time accepting what she was seeing. Filing into the room were Professors Dumbledore, Snape, Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey, all of them smiling at her. On Professor Snape, in particular, it looked almost out of place, particularly directed at her. He was looking at her as though she were his favorite, beloved daughter who had exceeded his highest expectations.

"You needn't be so surprised, Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore gently. "While the balance between continua required that you be sent back in a group of four, to balance the four hobbits who were pulled into our continuum by Lord Voldemort, there are other ways to travel between continua that do not require balance---they are one of the greatest secrets of the Department of Mysteries; one, I am happy to say, that Lord Voldemort has never so much as suspected."

"Yes, your teachers came in after you, as soon as they could do so," continued Gandalf. "You thought that they wouldn't?" At her expression, he raised an eyebrow. "So young, to be so cynical..." he muttered, more to himself than to anybody else. "In any case, they arrived just outside Lorien, not long before I got there. I apparently missed you by a few days---had you been more severely injured, I might have arrived in time."

"The Lady Galadriel's forgotten more about Healing than all the Healers I've ever known ever knew," Madam Pomfrey burst out. "I haven't been this excited since I was interning at St. Mungo's!"

"I had a plan---to contact Treebeard, the leader of the Ents of Fangorn Forest," continued Gandalf. "I'll explain what Ents are later---they're sort of tree-men, very long-lived and wise, who are shepherds to the forests. We needed aid against Saruman in Isengard, and I thought that since Saruman had been allowing his Orcs to cut down many of his trees, he might be willing to help. He was." Gandalf smiled a twinkly smile. "You should have seen it---the Ents and their trees, marching out to war! As it happened, most of Saruman's garrison was out at war, and we caught him unawares. When all the fighting was over---you'll hear all about it later---there was Saruman, cornered in the Tower of Orthnac with his tame traitor, Grima Wormtongue, from Rohan."

"I remember how it was, when we rode up through the wreckage of what had been the parks around Orthnac---Saruman had turned it all into workshops, and the Ents had torn down dams and sent the Isen River flowing through, drowning out most of the garrison that was still there," Professor Snape put in. "My colleagues and I were all a-horseback, with Gandalf and the King of Rohan---that's a kingdom not far away that had had a great deal of trouble with Saruman's ambitions."

"Do you remember how Saruman behaved?" chuckled Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape grinned a smug, pleased grin---it put Hermione in mind of a cat that had not only eaten the canary, but gotten it blamed on the dog. "At first, I thought he'd gone mad, or should I say, madder?"

"When he came out onto his balcony to speak to us, he first tried honeyed words. Then he saw young Professor Snape here, and went totally berserk. "Wormtongue, you've turned traitor!" he shrieked. "You were in with them all the time!" Then he turned, and there was Grima Wormtongue, looking right at him. At that sight, he lost control completely. He tried to curse us, but he'd lost all his power." Gandalf shook his head reminiscently.

Professor Dumbledore smiled mischievously. "Gandalf told him that his staff was broken---and it was! He finally gave up, and surrendered---I summoned some Aurors to take him into custody. He'll face judgement in Valinor."

"Grima Wormtongue was turned over to King Theoden, to face judgement at his hands," Gandalf continued. "Then we went to Minas Tirith---and found ourselves dealing with the father of our friend Boromir." He shook his head. "We ran into Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas on the way to Minas Tirith. After they---lost track of you, they decided that they could do the most good there. That was where we faced Sauron's onslaught, we and the men of Gondor and Rohan."

"We were literally fighting off the hordes of Sauron---the Witch-King of Angmar, the most powerful of the Nazgul, had been slain by Eowyn, a shield-maid of Rohan---when the Ring was destroyed. We saw, from Mordor, a huge shadow rising, shaped like a man, reaching out for us, and it dissipated in the wind from the West. Then Gandalf called for the Eagles, who had been fighting the Nazgul over Minas Tirith, and headed into Mordor to rescue you."

"Your friends are all in dreadful shape," Madam Pomfrey put in. "Apparently that awful thing, that Nazgul, gave them what they call 'Black Breath' here. On top of that, Mr. Malfoy was stabbed with a 'Morgul-knife,' which was sucking the life literally out of him. Professor Snape---he's a Healer himself, you know---and I worked day and night to save him. He's out of the worst danger now, but he---and your other friends---are still unconscious." She looked thoughtful. "You know, I wish I knew just what King Elessar did with that 'athelas.'"

"You should be asleep as well, Miss Granger," added Gandalf. "I'm delighted that you were so happy to see me, but truly, you should sleep now."

"Before I go back to bed," Hermione said, surprising herself by how husky her voice was---how long had she been out, anyway?---"I want to see my friends." She gave Gandalf a determined look. "I want to see that they're all right."

Gandalf and Professor Dumbledore exchanged glances, and Professor Dumbledore nodded almost imperceptibly. "Very well, Miss Granger. You have that right." With that, he helped her to her feet---and she was surprised at how very wobbly she was---and led her around a screen, to where Ron, Harry and Draco lay asleep, all of them looking terribly drawn and worn, pale beneath their tans and Ron's layer of sunburn. Ron's skin glistened with ointments, and Hermione caught a scent of aloe, which made her nod quietly in approval.

"Now that you've assured yourself that your friends are all right, may I please ask you to go back to sleep for a while?" Suddenly, that sounded absolutely wonderful, and Hermione allowed Gandalf to guide her back to her bed, where she fell into a deep, untroubled slumber almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. The last thing she perceived was Professor Dumbledore pulling the blankets up over her, tucking her in as though she were his own daughter. It was a good feeling.

When Hermione woke again, it felt like it was much later---the sun was in a different position, and things just felt different. This time, she mainly felt ravenously hungry. When she stirred, she heard Madam Pomfrey's voice---and smelled food!

She was always proud, later, of her self-control. She did not leap on Madam Pomfrey and wrest the tray of food out of her hands, but waited to be served. Of course, that could have been because when she sat up suddenly, the room began spinning around in a most diverting way. As she tried to get the spinning under control, Madam Pomfrey bustled over, setting up a bed-table and putting a big tray of delicious-smelling food in front of her. "Now, you eat hearty, Miss Granger. You never did have much spare flesh, and the state you were in when you arrived absolutely boggled my mind!" She shook her head as she sat down, watching Hermione carefully as she tore into the food. "At least, you weren't as starved as poor Mr. Potter---or Mr. Malfoy!"

A familiar voice came from around the screen: "Are you awake, Hermione?" Hermione's heart leaped with joy. Not only was she alive, but her friends were---and Ron was apparently awake, and asking after her! She bolted the rest of the food like a starving wolf, forgetting all semblance of good table manners, so that she could go to him. When she had finished licking the plates, she stumbled out of the bed---and how had she become so weak?---and scurried around to see her friends.

Ron was awake, and his face lit up like a jack-o-lantern at the sight of Hermione. She ran to him, and they hugged. Beside him, Harry and Draco slept on. When she could summon up the willpower to pry herself away from Ron, she looked carefully at Harry and Draco. Harry looked peaceful, more peaceful than she had seen him since before their terrible task had begun, but Draco looked bad. Under his tan, he looked paler than she had ever seen him. Oh, gods, don't let Draco die! Please, please let him live!

"Mr. Malfoy will live, Miss Granger, but he will always bear the mark---and the pain---of his wound," came a familiar voice, one Hermione hadn't heard since the dreadful day when the Fellowship had finally broken. Turning, she gasped at what she saw. Before her stood Aragorn, wearing elegant clothes not unlike what Boromir had worn at the council at Rivendell. On his forehead was a diadem with a strange jewel in it, and around his neck was an elven gemstone.

"I---I heard Madam Pomfrey say that if King Elessar---I don't know who he is, I don't remember reading about him---hadn't been handy with athelas, we might have all died." Hermione looked carefully at Aragorn, who blushed slightly under her scrutiny. "When I see this King, I want to thank him. To thank him for my life---and for the lives of my friends."

"You're most welcome, Miss Granger," said Aragorn, with a smile. "It was my pleasure. Don't you remember when I used athelas on you, after we escaped from the mines of Moria?" Hermione felt her eyes go very very wide, and her jaw dropped as she finally put the pieces together. "Yes, Hermione. I am now called Elessar, and I am the rightful king of Gondor and Arnor."

"Your---Your Ma-majesty! Forgive my ignorance!" Hermione swept a deep curtsy, and Ron, no less startled by this news, bowed his head in respect. At this, Aragorn---Elessar---gaped in shock.

"No! Please, do not do this! By rights it is I who should kneel to you!" he said, and he did so, his eyes now on a level with Hermione's. Gently, reverently, he reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Kneeling to such as you does not humble a man---or a king. Rather, it exalts him."

"Oh, please get up!" Hermione felt as though she would die of embarrassment. "We're old friends, old travelling companions---and I don't feel right, being knelt to." She gently urged Aragorn back to his feet. "And---we've been through so much together, I'd like to ask you a favor."

"Anything in my power, Miss Granger. Name it, and I'll grant it."

"Then---could you, and whoever else is left of our Fellowship, call me 'Hermione' from now on out?" Hermione wriggled with self-consciousness, as she tried to explain what she wanted. "Back when we first arrived, I told Nenandil, that to my friends, I'm 'Hermione.' And I'd like us to just be friends."

"That goes for me, too," said Ron, his voice hoarse with emotion. "My first name---the one my friends use---is 'Ron,' short for 'Ronald.'"

Aragorn bowed his head. "You---you do me too much honor---Hermione." Rising to his feet, he looked over at the bed. "I think that Mr. Potter will rise soon, but I still have work to do with Mr. Malfoy. How he survived, I'll never understand."

"It was because---because he was born to be hanged." This was from Harry, who had just opened his eyes. Hermione shrieked with delight and nearly jumped on him before remembering that they were all still convalescing. Harry held out his arms and Hermione ran into them, hugging him and Ron at once in a three-way hug.

Meanwhile, Aragorn, accompanied by Professor Snape, approached Draco, who tossed and turned, mumbling incoherent unpleasantries as he fought whatever demons populated his sleeping mind. Hermione saw this, and remembered what Draco had said to Ron once:

"Well, Weasel, it's like this: I lie there, caught up in the grip of a horrible nightmare. Then I awaken, and I remember who I am, and where I am, and what I am---and I wish I had the nightmare back." She shuddered, and felt a deep stab of pity for Draco. She also remembered the road south from the Black Gate to Ithilien, and how she had been the one to Ennervate Draco, because he trusted her. What would it be like, she wondered, to be Draco Malfoy---almost unable to trust even his friends? She figured that that one little datum told her all she needed to know about life in the Malfoy household.

Unheeding of this byplay, Aragorn produced a handful of a sweet-smelling herb, and crushed some of the leaves. "Awake, Mr. Malfoy! The Black Enemy has passed away!" He dropped the leaves into a pot of boiling water, and aromatic steam arose, which he directed to Draco's nostrils. To Hermione, the steam smelled wonderful, but she could never really describe it. Like mint, she thought sometimes; other times, it smelled like cinnamon. As Draco breathed the stuff in, he improved visibly---color came back to his cheeks, and his expression faded from the fearful rictus it had been to a relaxed smile.

Hermione, ever curious, was watching closely, hardly registering that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout had also entered the room, and were peering at the process themselves. "The hands of the King are the hands of a Healer," muttered Madam Pomfrey, in the tones of one quoting a proverb. "I was told that by Ioreth, one of the wise-women of this city. She said that being able to do that was one of the marks of the true King." She chuckled. "And to think I wasted all those years on study and interning!"

"This seems to go with the territory, Poppy," murmured Professor Sprout. "Even so, I'm taking some seeds and cuttings of that plant---and a lot of others---back to Hogwarts with me. The Journal of Herbology'll be getting some new articles, I think, once I learn all their properties."

Hermione paid little mind to the byplay; her attention was fixed on Aragorn and Draco. As Draco breathed the fragrant steam, he stirred, and then, his grey eyes opened. At first, they seemed to not be focussing. Then, Draco's mind appeared to return, and his eyes widened as he stared into Aragorn's face. "Aragorn?" asked Draco, his voice a husky croak. "How---where?"

"Drink this, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Snape, and he helped Draco sit up so that he could drink the infusion. As he swallowed, color came back to his cheeks, and he revived visibly. "You're in Minas Tirith, in the Houses of Healing." Hermione was touched to see Professor Snape holding Draco up, for all the world like a father helping a sick son.

Draco looked around, wary and watchful as always, and his eyes widened when he saw Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. As the infusion took effect, he smiled, and Hermione thought that if Draco hadn't been twisted and nearly ruined by his father, he'd have smiled like that more---and half the girls at Hogwarts would have been swooning over him. Then Draco saw her.

"Hermione! I never thought I'd see you again!" After a second, his face twisted in his old snarky grin. "I never thought I'd say this, but---gods, it's good to see you!" He turned, and saw Ron and Harry smiling at him. "And that goes for both of you too, Gryffindors though you are!"

Hermione hugged Draco, as Ron and Harry pounded him gently on the back. "And I can say the same thing for you, you Slytherin," she murmured into his ear. "If nothing else, if we'd left you to die, I imagine Professor Snape would make us wish we'd never been born magical!" Professor Snape caught her eye, and nodded agreement.

"Ah---motives I understand!" Having explained things to his own satisfaction, Draco leaned back in his bed. "Hey, Aragorn---what's with the fancy clothes? Not that you don't look really good, but to me, you don't look like the old Aragorn any more."

"In some ways, he isn't the old Aragorn any more," said Gandalf, as Draco's eyes went very wide at the sight of him. "Nor am I the old Gandalf. There's much you need to hear---you and the other two young men..."

As Gandalf began filling Draco, Harry and Ron in, with help from the Hogwarts professors, Hermione suffered herself to be led back around the screen to her bed. She felt drained, and thought that a nice nap would be just the thing. Madam Pomfrey and a local woman whose name seemed to be Ioreth tucked her back in, and she found herself drifting off.

*

Some days later, when they were more recovered from their ordeals in Mordor, Hermione was talking with the boys when Ioreth came in. "Miss Granger---could you come over here and get dressed? There's ever so many people here who want to meet you!"

Curious, but polite, Hermione let herself be led off, and she found the clothes she had worn into Mordor laid out for her. Although they were freshly laundered and sweet-smelling, they were still ragged, patched with duct tape and dreadfully worn. "Do I have to wear these?" asked Hermione. While she didn't think of herself as vain, she was still female enough to want to look her best.

"No robes of honor or kingly crown would be more honorable, Miss Granger," said a young woman Hermione hadn't met. At her raised eyebrow, she explained: "I am Eowyn---the niece of King Theoden of Rohan. At my hand, the Witch-King of Angmar met his doom. It had been given to him that no living man could slay him...but I am a woman, and was not covered by that prophecy." She smiled---she had a very nice smile, Hermione thought. "I was told of your response to Lord Boromir, back in Rivendell: 'Girls rule, boys drool,' and your demonstration that you were just as formidable as your friends. You were an inspiration to me in dark days, when all seemed lost."

Reassured on the clothes question, Hermione scrambled out of her nightgown and into her familiar clothes. When she was dressed, Gandalf came in, with her sword and sword-belt, and her pack with the book that the Lady of Lorien had given her. "Will you allow me to belt this sword on you, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione blushed. "Only if you call me 'Hermione' from now on out, Gandalf." Gandalf raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and knelt before Hermione, girding the Japanese short sword she had carried so far around her waist. Hermione felt hugely unworthy to be given such attention by anyone, and wished keenly that they'd just have let her get dressed in peace. When Gandalf was done with her, he went around the screen, and performed the same office for Harry and Draco---Ron's sword had been lost in the fight with Khamul the Ringwraith.

Once they were all arrayed in the clothes they had worn in Mordor, Hermione took Harry's arm, and Ron and Draco trailed along just behind them, and they were led out into a huge hall. When they arrived, a mighty cheer greeted them, and praise in many languages echoed off the curiously-carven roof. Smiling, the four advanced slowly down a carpet, while knights in mail bowed before them, and swords were raised in salute, to a dais where three high seats were, each with a banner behind it. In the midmost seat, before a banner with a white tree, sat Aragorn---King Elessar. To one side of the dais stood the remaining members of the Fellowship---Legolas and Gimli. To the other side, the contingent of Hogwarts faculty stood, eyes shining with pride and wonder. Hermione felt as though her heart would burst with happiness.

When they reached him, Aragorn stood, and took Harry and Hermione by the hands, turning them around to face the assemblage. "Behold, Free People! Behold Harry James Potter and Hermione Jessica Granger, Bearers of the Ring!" His voice rang out in the stillness. "Praise them with great praise!"

As the shout echoed, to be joined with a roar of approval that bid fair to shake the building, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and moved slightly to ensure that Ron and Draco were included. Hermione put her arm around Ron's shoulders, and Harry put his hand on Draco's shoulder, making it clear that they were to be praised, too. Hermione stole a glance at Ron---and saw that he was blissfully happy to not be overshadowed. We're a team, thought Hermione fiercely, and nobody had better forget it!

Then a minstrel came forward, bowed, and asked leave to sing. "Lords and knights, men of valor unashamed, kings and princes, men of fair Gondor, Riders of Rohan, sons of Elrond, Elf, Dwarf, and guests from the other world, listen to my lay! For I will now sing the lay of Harry Potter and the Ring of Doom!"

As the minstrel began, Hermione thought: So that's why they were so intent on getting our stories! Then she lost herself in the beauty of the man's voice---he made all the singers she had heard in her own world sound like asthmatic crows, and the intricacy of his verses was a splendor and delight in itself. I have got to get a copy of that, she decided.

When the minstrel had ended his song, and more shouts of praise for them had echoed off the walls, Hermione came back to herself and found that she was ravenously hungry. They went into pavilions, where a feast was waiting that made the best she'd ever seen at Hogwarts look like what gets thrown to pigs. She tucked into the food that was brought in, and as she ate, a thought occurred to her. There was someone---someone who hadn't received the glory that, at the last, he deserved.

When she whispered her thought to Harry, his green eyes widened behind his battered spectacles, before he nodded. Later, she saw him talking quietly to Gandalf and Gimli, and nodded to herself. Things were well in hand. With that thought, she went off to bed---she was still convalescing.