To Dance on the Stars

Chapter Three

A myth is a religion in which no one any longer believes.

    -- James Feibleman

    "So," Draco said, as the group began the long walk back up to the castle.

    Ron, who was still smarting from Draco's earlier comments, rose to the bait magnificently. "So? So *what*, Malfoy?"

    "I'm just commenting, *Weasley*. So. So little Miss Granger is in fact Athena, the goddess of wisdom. So I'm *apparently* meant to be one of her little servants. So. And so."

    Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, I won't compel you. You don't have to be a Bronze Knight if you don't want to."

    "Oh, how generous. My goddess, truly you're a paragon of mercy." The sting of the sarcasm laced into Draco's words was enough to make Hermione flinch and Harry wince in sympathy.

    "Malfoy!" Harry hissed. "Shut up!"

    "Of course *you're* sticking up for her, *Pegasus*," Draco said airily. "Not that She has ever noticed you *before* --"

    Hermione stopped, bringing the party to a halt. "Malfoy, what is your *problem*?" she demanded, in an exasperated tone. "I know we've never really gotten along before, but this is beyond it!"

    Draco stared at her incredulously. "'Never really gotten along'? Granger, at least give me the credit of hating your guts."

    "He's right, Hermione," Harry added. "Malfoy hates our guts."

    Draco rolled his eyes. "Why do I only get credit from my sworn adversary?"

    "You're not my sworn adversary," Harry pointed out mildly. "Voldemort is."

    Draco looked at him through a hooded gaze. "We have conflicted at every turn!" he announced dramatically.

    "Oh, for heavens' sake, Goyle and Crabbe aren't here right now, Malfoy," Hermione stated. "You can drop the theatrics. Preferably down a very deep well."

    Ron, who had been growing redder and redder throughout this exchange, lost it at this point. "WHAT D'Y'MEAN, *HE'S* YOUR SWORN ADVERSARY?! WHAT ABOUT ME?!?"

    "It isn't fair, I've not got enough and I want my share," Hermione muttered. Harry choked back a chuckle.

    *You*, Weasley," Draco sniffed, "are a sidekick. An excellent example of the stereotype, too." He shifted his glance to Harry and Hermione. "I, on the other hand, am *not* a sidekick."

    "No," Harry muttered, "you're a certified pain in the arse."

    "I heard that, Potter."

    "Maybe you were meant to, Malfoy."

    Ron had apparently decided against exploding in favour of watching Harry go in to bat on his behalf, and was watching with interest.

    Hermione sighed. "You haven't answered my question, Malfoy. What's wrong?"

    "What's wrong, she asks. What's wrong?" Draco closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were near-incandescent with impotent, caged fury. "Oh, I'm sure I have no idea. It certainly can't have anything to do with the fact that I just discovered I'm supposed to give up my future plans -- not that any of them concern *you*, of course -- and serve a know-it-all Mudblood whom I can't stand. It wouldn't be connected at all to the thought that I'll be subordinate for the rest of eternity to Saint Potter the Perfect who can do no wrong. It can have nothing to do with the idea that I'll be stuck with the Weasley here for the next ten thousand years."

    "Oh," Hermione said softly.

    "And, if you'll excuse me, I'm going up to the castle. The company here is a trifle insipid for my taste."

    The Trio watched as he stomped away.

*****

I have yet to see any problem, however complicated, which, when you looked at it in the right way, did not become still more complicated.

    -- Poul Anderson

    Ron kept his eye on Hermione as Harry trounced him at Wizard Chess for the first time ever. She sat in the deepest, most comfy armchair in 'their' corner of the Gryffindor common-room, and Ron was struck by the way the three of them had arranged themselves, without a word or exchanged glance -- Hermione in the best chair, against the wall in the most defensible position, Harry on a pouffe in front of her, shielding her from the rest of the room, and almost incidentally at her feet, and he off to one side, not as close to Hermione as Harry but with a near-complete view of the room and room to jump up and spring to an attack.

    What was perhaps more interesting was that this wasn't a new arrangement. This was the way they always sat.

    /Did we know?/ Ron wondered, absently sacrificing yet another pawn to Harry's ravening bishop. /Did we both know, somewhere deep inside, that She was our goddess and we Her servants? It would certainly explain why Harry was always paying attention to her, back when we weren't friends yet./

    "Check," Harry said suddenly, and Ron looked down to see a board where the surviving black chessmen were united in their disgust with their player.

    "I resign," Ron said.

    "Ron?" Hermione asked from the depths of her chair.

    "I think it's pretty clear," Ron said, "that my mind's not on the game."

    "What is it, Ron?" Harry asked. "You're not usually this quiet."

    Ron was suddenly struck with a memory. //Sitting on the steps below Her throne, playing sennet against Pegasus, while Athena hung over the arm, watching over Pegasus' shoulder as he thrashed his friend, and others talked in the background....//

    "The other Knights. The Gold and Silver Knights. Where are they?" Ron suddenly asked.

    "They are... where we left them. On Olympus." Hermione closed her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

    "Can we expect --"

    "*No*." Hermione looked sad. "They're not going to join us here."

    Harry turned around to look at her. "I didn't know you'd been in contact with them."

    "I haven't," Hermione said sadly. "They think I'm a fake."

    Ron looked taken aback. "What? How?"

    Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked away. "Do you remember Hades?" she asked.

    "Vaguely," Ron said. "He made Snape look like a good, upstanding individual, didn't he?"

    She chuckled hollowly. "Indeed. Well, He's convinced the gods of Olympus and Athena's Gold and Silver Knights that I'm an impostor who will come forward to claim Athena's power."

    "What does he get out of that?" Harry asked.

    "Time and opportunity," Hermione shrugged. "Hades is greedy. As He's the God of misers I don't think that's terribly surprising. He wants My power, especially as I am -- was -- one of the most powerful of the Olympian Gods. In this body, if I can't access all My power, then I'm not necessarily immortal. And if I can be killed... well. The power must go *somewhere*. As long as He can keep Me mortal, time is on His side, not Mine."

    "So your only defence is we Bronze Knights," Harry stated, looking as if the words were as sour as lemon juice upon his tongue.

    "And Hydra -- Malfoy -- just stalked off into the sunset," Ron joined in, sharing his brother knight's tone and expression.

    "He might come back," Hermione said. "He isn't a Death Eater...."

    "Yet," Ron qualified her statement gloomily.

*****

I don't care what is written about me so long as it isn't true.

    -- Dorothy Parker

    Over the years, many different people had used many different words to describe Luna Lovegood. It wasn't a coincidence that 'normal' had never been one of them.

    Luna had been an unusual child even before her mother's death. Between her mother's predilection for magical experimentation and her father's obsession with conspiracies, she had never been burdened with more than a cursory amount of parental attention or guidance. Untrammelled by rules or supervision, she had been left to more or less raise herself. Luna thought, when one took into consideration that she had been utterly untrained for the position, that she really hadn't done that bad a job.

    Other people's opinions didn't really matter much to her anyway. Life was a lot better that way, she'd found.

    Her interaction with the Dream Team of Gryffindor could be best described as 'interesting'. Luna liked interesting things. She tended to wander away from uninteresting things. These included random Slytherins, Herbology lessons, and battlements. She was now forbidden from visiting the top of Hogwarts Castle except during lessons, and even then Professor Sinistra did everything but sit on her.

    She had decided to make Hermione Granger one of her butterbeer cork necklaces, for no more reason than the fact that she wanted to.

    (Luna very rarely did anything she didn't want to do, which was yet another reason why the fifth-year Ravenclaws dreaded Astronomy. Fortunately for the House, Luna's yearmates regularly made up the five House points she chronically lost for undone homework.)

    Sorting the corks into sizes -- a very important part of the process -- Luna reflected on the burst of urgency that she had felt the day before. It had been a Hogsmeade weekend, and much of the school had been down in the village that Sunday. Luna had remained behind, because the Thestrals had been restless in their traces.

    Luna might be firmly convinced of the existence of certain things that the general wizarding population were less sure of, but she was also certain on matters that they agreed were real. One of those matters was the sensitivity of Thestrals. Things were not going to be good in Hogsmeade.

    So Luna stayed back.

    In the early afternoon, Luna had felt a demand inside her head, ::HELP ME!!::, and a tugging towards the village. She had run towards that side of the castle (her housemates dismissing it as Loony Lovegood again) but no sooner had she found herself at the Great Hall than the urgency dissipated.

    She had remained in the area, and had seen Draco Malfoy come charging up to the castle in a fine snit.

    Something had prompted her to say, "Hello, Malfoy."

    "Sod off, you... who are you?"

    "Luna Lovegood."

    "Sod off, Lovegood."

    On reflection, Luna felt that had really been uncalled-for.

    Shortly afterwards, she had seen Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter come walking up to the castle. Somehow, she felt relieved to see them.

    "Hello, Luna," Harry called. "Hello, Luna," Ron and Hermione chorused a beat afterwards, their 'hello' overlapping Harry's 'Luna' so the two words were slightly garbled.

    "Hello," she replied. "I'm glad to see you're all right."

    All three stiffened. "Why do you say that?" Ron asked, in a strange voice.

    So, something *did* happen.

    "The Thestrals were restless this morning. It's a sure sign of danger approaching."

    All three relaxed. "Well, yes, we're fine," Hermione said crisply. Luna blinked. She knew Hermione didn't have much patience with her. But then again, Hermione was so grounded you could use her as a rock.

    "Good," Luna nodded, and wandered back to Ravenclaw Tower. Whatever had happened, it wasn't any of her business, and she of all people knew the value of privacy and silence.

    But still, as she threaded the first cork onto the fishing line, she wondered.

*****

It matters not whether you win or lose; what matters is whether I win or lose.

    -- Darrin Weinberg

    "I did not send you out to receive this news."

    The black-cloaked man shivered in response to the coldness in the voice of his Master. "I am sorry, Lord -- the girl was protected! One moment she was alone, the next, three men whom we couldn't touch were sheltering her!"

    "/Crucio/," Voldemort said softly, and over the man's screams, turned to the next cowering victim. "Protected by three untouchable men?"

    The man nodded. "They wore bronze armour that seemed to reflect every spell we cast, and there was no gap through which to aim a curse at the girl, My Lord." He swallowed and said thickly, "We did try, my Lord...."

    "/Crucio/."

    The third man simply knelt.

    "You offer no excuses?" Voldemort's voice was amused.

    "There is no excuse to offer," the man said simply. "I was inadequate to the task."

    "I have no space for the incompetent in my ranks. /Avada Kedavra/."

    The corpse twitched once.

    "In fact," Voldemort continued, "I think I grow tired of hearing excuses. /Crucio/."

    The room was filled with screams.

    "You have your orders and I should think they are more than clear. Kill Hermione Granger, by any means possible. Now get out of my sight."

    After the flurry of footfalls died away, a voice said softly, "So, she has begun to discover the Bronze Knights."

    Voldemort turned to see Hades leaning against his throne, his inky hair and clothing and hair blending with the shadows till it was difficult to tell where the shadows ended and the god began.

    "The Bronze Knights?" Voldemort asked. "What are the Bronze Knights?" /And why did you not tell me about them?/ he thought, but did not voice.

    Hades shrugged. "I forgot about them. I always thought of them as an affectation of Hers, and singularly useless. However, it appears that they do have uses."

    "It is always a small shock to discover something unexpectedly," Voldemort politely agreed. /Such as the fact that there are defences in place I knew nothing about!/

    Hades smirked at him. "The Bronze Knights, since you asked, are the third rank of a God's personal guard, after the Gold and Silver Knights."

    "Ah," Voldemort said. "But then... if the Bronze Knights are the third rank, the first and second will be called upon?"

    "No," Hades said calmly. "I have dealt with them. They will not be a problem. You need only deal with the Bronze Knights."

    Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. "So, what are their strengths?"

    "I have utterly no idea."

    Voldemort drew in a deep breath. "*You*... have no idea?"

    Hades grinned nastily. "I never cared to discover anything about them. They are mortal, if that's any help." He cocked his head at Voldemort. "You want to be a Silver Knight, and mere Bronze knights are a challenge to you?"

    Looking at his putative God through narrowed eyes. "I may assume that this is a part of my test?"

    "You may indeed," Hades said smugly, and vanished.

    Voldemort muttered a foul word under his breath, and strode off to await word from his followers.

*****

A child becomes an adult when he realizes that he has a right not only to be right but also to be wrong.

    -- Thomas Szasz, The Second Sin (1973) Childhood"

    Draco Malfoy strode into his dormitory, thankfully deserted, and dramatically flung his cloak upon his green-curtained four-poster bed. He almost missed the letter sitting on the bedspread.

//My Dear Son,

    //I am hoping this finds you well as it leaves me. Your Head of House informs me you are performing acceptably in your studies, although there is room for improvement. I trust that I will see such an improvement shortly.

    //Our Master has recently decreed that a particular Muggleborn within your year, one Hermione Granger, shall be eliminated. This decree is proving rather challenging to accomplish. Therefore I require of you that you report all her movements to me, and alert me whenever she will be leaving Hogwarts Castle grounds.

    //Also, I require that you will report to me all information on any new persons entering Hogwarts other than the first years, particularly if they are male.

    //Should there be any such, I warn you not to grow to depend upon them. The Dark Lord has decreed that they will also be eliminated, and I know you will be delighted at the chance to assist him with this task.

    //Regards,

        //Your Father.//

    Draco read the letter over again, the import slowly sinking in. /Dead. If anybody finds out I'm the Hydra Knight, I'm dead./

    /And he's just assuming that I'm going to kill Pegasus and Cygnus./

    /Why *me*?/

*****

Author's Notes:

    1. Hermione's line, "It isn't fair, I've not got enough and I want my share", is from the song 'What About Me', by Paul Simon.

    2. Sennet is a game of strategy that was very popular in Ancient Egypt. The game was exported to the various civilizations the Egyptians came into contact with, including Ancient Greece. From Greece it went to Rome, and from there evolved further; its modern form, very different in several respects from its Egyptian ancestor, is called 'chess'.

    Sennet boards and counters have been found in several Egyptian tombs, and images of people playing the game have been featured in many tombs' frescoes.