Sanctuary

Reading Time: 54 Minutes

Title: Sanctuary
Series: The Eternal Knight
Series Order: 3
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: Harry Potter
Relationship: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Razel Fireborn/Tyr Warhide
Genre:  Fantasy, Romance, Revenant AU
Warnings:  Character Bashing, Explicit Language, Discussion-Murder, Discussion-Potions Abuse, Discussion-Consent Issues, Discussion-Sexual Assault, Grammarly Beta, No Human Beta
Word Count: 13,292
Author Note: This is an alternate universe. It’s best not to assume all canon events happened in this universe the same way. If an event is pertinent to my story (as the original event or different), I will include it. Your non-consensual so-called “con-crit” will be considered an act of war.

Summary:  Esmeralda Ravenclaw seeks a new Anchor. Harry meets Tyr Warhide and Razel Fireborn’s daughter and makes an offer on behalf of Sir Gawain, son of Lot. Hermione makes a calculated decision.

* * * * *

Because she was curious and didn’t want to hurt either Harry or Sir Gawain, Hermione retreated to books to get answers to the questions she had about Esmeralda Ravenclaw. She’d lingered at Hogwarts for many years with her niece, Helena Ravenclaw, and many had assumed her to be a ghost. Even in Hogwarts, a history, her status as a Revenant had been discussed to the point of debate. Hermione wondered how Rowena had dealt with the fact that her younger sister and her daughter were both murdered. Though her sister had been murdered many years before her own death, it had to have been a lingering source of pain.

Esmeralda Ravenclaw had been a brilliant young scholar who had come to Hogwarts many years after the founding to teach transfiguration. She’d fallen in love with Godric Gryffindor and married in what some believed to be a scandalous amount of time. They were married just five years before she was murdered by Godric’s brother. She wondered how Gawain had processed that loss and if a Revenant experienced any sort of transference of feelings.

“Something concerns you?”

Hermione looked up and focused on Master Warhide, who had installed her in a small sitting room not far from his own office so that she could study and read in peace. “Do Revenants feel what their Anchors feel?”

He closed the door and walked across the room to sit down at the small table in front of her. “It’s subjective as there are essays on the subject across many generations. There are even stories of Revenants separating from an Anchor because they could not tolerate personal associations or even family members. Are you worried that Sir Gawain finds you intolerable?”

“No,” Hermione said, then frowned. “At least, I don’t think that’s a concern. He hasn’t spoken to me much directly, but when he has, the interaction was respectful and kind.”

“Then what concerns you?” Tyr questioned.

“If Esmeralda Ravenclaw manages to survive this situation and seeks a new Anchor….” Hermione took a deep breath. “She was Godric’s wife, and the integration of Sir Gawain and Godric Gryffindor surely means that there are feelings to consider. In the Muggle world, Revenants are encouraged to avoid such situations when they seek a new Anchor. It’s clearly not the case in the magical world.”

“No, there are incidents where Revenants have stayed with the same family for generations in some fashion or another,” Tyr said gently. “It can create complicated situations that are emotionally difficult for everyone involved. Sir Gawain is a generous and thoughtful soul who doesn’t appear to have ever forced his own emotions on his Anchors. There is a duality to consider, of course, but Lord Gryffindor is very enamored with you.”

Hermione felt her face heat in a blush, and she nodded. “Yes, I…. At one time, I thought to ignore it and hope that his infatuation would fade.”

“Why? It’s clear you return his affection.”

“I’m a Muggle-born.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Tyr said in amusement, then frowned. “Oh, lass, are you serious?”

“You cannot sit there and tell me it’s not an issue,” Hermione said hotly and crossed her arms when he glared at her. “It’s just…I’ve always known that things would be easier for Harry if he appeared to at least sort of conform to the expectations of others.”

“It’s logical,” Tyr allowed. “But disheartening.”

She nodded. “I feel selfish because no matter how I feel—a pureblood wife would be the better choice for Harry.”

“I don’t agree,” Tyr admitted. “In the end, the marriage would be empty and borderline emotionally abusive for everyone involved because he’s in love with you. Magical creatures fall in love in a very profound way, Hermione. I’m sure you feel it—the love magic—stirring in your core as you sit there. Precious little magic on this Earth is more powerful. He brims with it, personally, due to the sacrifice of his mother.”

Hermione frowned. “How would it have been abusive?”

“If you’d maneuvered him into the kind of marriage you think would’ve served his political agenda the best, he’d have had a loveless marriage, and the witch in question would’ve grown to resent him immensely for the fact that he’d never put her ahead of you,” Tyr said plainly. “You’re very good at considering the ramifications of your decisions in every other circumstance. Where is your disconnect?” He leaned forward a bit. “Hermione, what are your plans for the future?”

“I…I want to get my mastery in law. That’s always been my goal though I wasn’t sure which field I would settle on. Now, I know I don’t have to settle for just one.” She flushed. “And I appreciate your mentorship immensely.” He nodded. “I suppose I thought I would get married if I found a wizard who wouldn’t eventually get bent over my friendship with Harry.”

Tyr laughed a little and sat back in his seat. He unbuttoned his jacket and shook his head. “Hermione, there is no wizard alive who’d meet such a standard considering how magically invested the two of you are in each other.”

“They don’t really teach us much about that sort of thing at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “We read a lot about it in his family’s grimoire.”

“You read it together,” Tyr said, and she nodded. “I know, for a fact, that the Potter grimoire is entailed, Hermione. You’ve handled it? Opened it?”

“Yes,” she said and rummaged through her bag. She pulled the grimoire out. “Harry asked me to search for information on other Revenant Anchors in his line when I had time. I am a member of his magical house, so of course, I can open it.”

“That’s not…what that means,” Tyr said gently. “It is a legal standing, lass, not a magical one.” He stared for a moment. “I know you understand the difference.”

“I….” Hermione took a deep breath. “We’ve been close since the very beginning. The moment we met, it was like…I’d been looking all of my life for him, and I know that’s crazy since I was just eleven years old.” She paused. “Almost twelve.” She stared at the grimoire. “There wasn’t any information on entailment spells in any of the books I could get access to. I’ve never been allowed unsupervised access to the restricted section of the library.”

“Entailment spells are very dangerous,” Tyr said. “And they are punitive. If I tried to open that book, it would probably break my hand at the minimum.”

Hermione exhaled slowly. “Once, in our first year, we were taking flying lessons, and Ron was goofing off. It really irritated Harry because even after many lessons, the whole thing was really nerve-wracking for me, and Ron didn’t care. He bumped me, and I fell off. We must have been fifty meters up over the quidditch field. Harry apparated and caught me.” She paused. “Then he apparated again, and we tumbled to the ground without getting hurt.”

She focused on the dverger and found him staring at her in shock.

“They said it was accidental magic,” Hermione continued. “But he confessed to me the next day that he did it on purpose. The thing is that neither of us has been taught to apparate, and it didn’t feel like apparition based on the accounts that I’ve read.”

“What do you think he did?”

“At one time, I had no theory at all. But then Harry told me that he descends from Arthur Pendragon through his mother.”

“Ah,” Tyr said and nodded. “The dragonkin could teleport at will. But if he had any magical gifts regarding the bloodline, he would’ve been told during his medical assessment. History tells us that such magic is extinct.”

“Harry said he’s the first descendant of King Arthur with magic in a very long time,” Hermione said. “Maybe it’s not as extinct as anyone thinks. Regardless, the point of the story isn’t about the apparition/teleportation. Harry didn’t see me fall.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was on the opposite side of the pitch chasing the snitch with the chaser from Slytherin,” Hermione said. “The houses are bitter rivals, and so he was concentrating entirely on the exercise as he hates to give them an inch. He felt me fall. He said his magic pulled him to me.”

“And this was before the discretion ward and your agreement to join his house.”

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“Then we need to figure out just how deep your magical affinity with Lord Gryffindor goes,” Tyr said and stood. “It could have deadly consequences for one or both of you if mismanaged.”

“Should I go get him? He’d talked Master Sharprock into a sword lesson.”

“A what?” Tyr questioned, and Hermione winced at the tone. “For fuck’s sake.”

Hermione hesitated only briefly as her mentor stalked out of the room before she shot up out of her seat and followed. Her access to the bank wasn’t unfettered, but she and Harry could move around the areas that were considered public for the dverger who lived in the clan complex. Between Harry’s Anchor status and her mentor contract, their behavior was largely accounted for, and no one seemed to give them a second glance as they approached their second week as guests of the horde.

Unfortunately, they still hadn’t gotten to meet Razel Fireborn, as he’d gone into labor before they could get to dinner and was now sequestered. She’d expected Master Warhide to set her aside for the three-week confinement as well, but he appeared every single day to give her assignments and answer questions. After the fourth day, he confessed that Razel had lost his temper and thrown him out of their flat for hovering like an idiot, and he was required to be gone no less than three hours every single day.

They entered the arena, and Master Warhide stopped as if he’d suddenly realized she’d followed. He guided her toward the audience area, which was behind a protective ward as spells were flying madly across the arena. There were two dverger with Harry, and both seemed to be on the offensive. Hermione felt like that was for the best, as Harry worked best on the defense in any situation. He could certainly be the aggressor, but he clearly preferred for an enemy to come to him.

A third dverger joined them in the arena, and Tyr hissed a little under his breath. Briefly, she considered assuring her mentor that Harry wasn’t going to hurt anyone but then thought better of it.

“He’s too young for this shite,” Tyr muttered.

“Harry’s very talented magically,” Hermione said in his defense. “And has a far larger spell repertoire than anyone would expect.”

He spared her a single glance. “And he’s in the arena with three dverger with the combined magical experience of well over a thousand years.”

“Well, Harry has Sir Gawain,” Hermione pointed out, and Tyr grunted his agreement. “They’re testing him, right? For what purpose? He’s far too polarizing to stand as patron of the horde now that he’s anchoring an ancient Revenant. I think Neville Longbottom would probably be a great choice after he leaves Hogwarts.”

“We have, as a species, always chosen warriors to stand as the patron,” Tyr admitted roughly. “Men and women amongst your kind who believe deeply in fairness and do not allow themselves to be led astray are coveted in such agreements with magical creatures all over the world. The circumstances around the death of our last patron put us off seeking another. But now that you’ve proven that he couldn’t have been guilty of what he’d been accused of, many are looking at the Earl of Gryffindor and seeing a solution.”

“You want Sir Gawain to stand as your patron,” Hermione said shrewdly. “And if you pick him specifically, then the role would pass just as the title does to whomever he Anchors with.”

Tyr hummed under his breath and shrugged when she frowned.

“Harry doesn’t want it,” Hermione said.

“It’ll serve his agenda.”

She crossed her arms.

“And yours,” Tyr said wryly when she huffed loudly. “And we both know he’s going to strive to make you happy, even to the detriment of others.”

Hermione focused on Harry and took in a deep breath. He wasn’t watching his back, which was irritating. Harry shifted on his feet, turned, and caught his third opponent with a wandless spell that pushed the dverger back so hard he fell on his arse with a laugh. He was clearly holding back, and that was even more irritating.

Harry apparated suddenly and used his sword to cast a crowd control spell that pushed all three dverger halfway across the training floor. The display of magic caused Master Rhys Sharprock to respond in kind and quickly. All she could concentrate on was the clang of metal against metal. It was nerve-wracking, and her stomach quickly grew tight with worry. She pressed her hand against it and took a few measured breaths.

It wasn’t fair or reasonable to make Harry responsible for her anxiety, and he’d never been more prepared for the kind of exercise he was engaging in. Revenant energy was dancing around in the air around him, though she thought the light show was probably unnecessary, and Gawain merely used it to remind people that thanks to him that Harry was nothing to trifle with.

“Gawain’s influence is very clear,” Tyr murmured. “His form is already quite good, even without the muscle memory.”

“Muscle memory?”

“Fighting with a sword takes practice and skill. That skill builds muscle memory that serves you very well in combat,” her mentor explained. “Knowing how to do something intellectually and having the physical ability to do it is separate. Like handwriting.”

She nodded. “A Revenant can’t give an Anchor muscle memory, then.”

“I’m uncertain,” Tyr said. “But he certainly hasn’t so far. It might require more time as they settle into their duality. Or it might come with something like integration.”

* * * *

Harry held her hand as they exited the lift just behind Bill Weasley, who had retrieved them from the bank after they’d sent a letter asking for an update on Ron’s condition. As it turns out, the only one of them to actually be subjugated by the potion was Ron, as he’d received continuous dosages. There was evidence, per Bill, that all of them had been dosed at least once. He’d been very closed-lipped about his father’s condition, and Harry hadn’t felt like he could push.

They were led to a small room where Ron was sleeping on a cot. Bill had told him that they’d kept him entirely isolated since he was admitted, and he didn’t even know that his mother was currently sitting in a cell in Azkaban. He also didn’t know that Dumbledore was in Rome. Ron had never much cared for the old bastard, so Harry didn’t think he’d be all that fussed about that part.

“Ron?” Bill questioned. “Harry and Hermione have come to see you.”

Ron turned toward them and hugged the pillow. He was pale and looked so tired that it made Harry want to take a nap. “Hey.”

“Hey, mate,” Harry murmured as he sat down in the chair as Bill left them.

Hermione immediately perched on the side of the cot and took Ron’s hand. “How do you feel?”

“Sad,” Ron admitted. “Tired. My magic is okay, but my mood is really unstable.” He flushed and focused on Hermione’s hand. “Even a month ago, you holding my hand would’ve made my day.”

Hermione flushed. “Ron…I….”

“None of this is your fault, Hermione,” Ron said quietly. “I feel like my mum ruined me.”

“Well, you’ll be fine,” Hermione said immediately. “Mind healing is very advanced in the magical world, and there are spells.” She paused. “Can you take potions, or are they worried it might cause issues?”

“I can have them, but none they’ve tried have really helped me be less sad,” Ron said.

“Of course, they haven’t,” Harry said. “Your mum broke your heart, Ron. You’re…allowed to be sad about that as long as you want. You can be angry, too. You know that, right?”

Ron shrugged and bit down on his bottom lip. “The healers keep talking about personality disorders and behavior problems.”

Harry nodded. “Did you tell them you’ve always been a git?” He grinned when Hermione huffed, and Ron laughed. “Seriously, they should know.”

“Apparently, I eat my feelings,” Ron said and sighed when Hermione laughed. “I don’t know why it’s weird to really enjoy food. Everyone should like food. It’s necessary to live.”

Harry grinned at him. “You were definitely all in on food during first year.”

“How are you really?” Hermione questioned.

“Just sad,” Ron said and shrugged. “Mum hasn’t even come to see me and apologize.”

Harry exhaled in surprise and glanced around. Bill had left the room entirely, and he didn’t know what he should say. He knew, personally, what he would want if it were him. “Have you told Bill that you’re expecting her to visit?”

“No, he gets really mad whenever I mention her,” Ron said.

“Ron,” Hermione began, then took a deep breath.

Be honest, Gawain urged. Your friendship and loyalty is to him.

“Okay.” Harry exhaled slowly. “Ron, your mum is in jail. They’d never let her anywhere near you even if she were free because she abused you horribly. You probably won’t be allowed any contact with her until you’re an adult.”

Ron’s eyes widened with shock, and tears welled. “Mum should tell me she’s sorry, Harry. She can’t do that if no one lets her see me.”

“Ron,” Hermione said quietly and scooted closer to him. “I don’t think your mum is sorry for what she did. At most, she’s sorry she got caught. She’s a terrible bigot and believed she had the right to control all of her children and Harry, too.”

“Remember what she said in the kitchen?” Harry questioned, and Ron nodded, then tears fell. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ron said hoarsely and buried his face in his pillow briefly. “I’d still be thinking those awful things about you if you hadn’t found out about the potions.”

“What awful things?” Hermione questioned.

“The potion made me obsessed with you, Hermione,” Ron whispered. “And it was making me hate Harry. I was so confused and hurt all the time. Mum kept telling me that I should be with you because you’re smart and I’m useless. She said I’m going to need a smart wife to take care of me.”

“You are not useless,” Hermione exclaimed hotly. “I’m going to go Azkaban and curse your mother out!”

“Mum’s in Azkaban?” Ron asked in shock, and Harry winced. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, even as Hermione sent him a horrified look.

Ron started to laugh.

“Hmmm.” Harry looked around and wondered if he should go get a healer. “Mate, are you okay?”

Ron snorted and laughed some more. “She just…said all those awful things about Sirius being in Azkaban, and now she’s there.”

Hermione giggled briefly, then coughed to cover it up. She huffed at them as Harry laughed with Ron. “You probably do need a smart partner, though. One that can tolerate the fact that you’re a git.” Ron used the sleeve of his pajama top to wipe his nose. “With no manners at all.” She snagged a box of tissues from the nightstand and wiggled it in front of him.

Ron took several tissues and sighed. “So, what else has happened?”

“We told on Dumbledore for controlling the teachers,” Hermione blurted out. “And someone finally listened. He’s in Rome in prison, hopefully forever. But Professor McGonagall is very ill because of the magic he was using against her. The ministry is taking care of her.”

Ron huffed. “We can’t allow that, Hermione. Fudge is a dumbarse.”

“Oh, Fudge isn’t the minister anymore,” Hermione assured. “He’s probably going to prison, too.”

“I’ve barely been here a week,” Ron protested.

“Ron, it’s been fifteen days,” Harry said quietly. “You were asleep for a while. They had to do a lot of magic to you to get rid of the potion your mum was giving you.”

Ron groaned. “That means school starts even sooner than I thought.” He blew his nose in irritation, and Hermione frowned at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Hermione. Not everyone likes school.”

“Well, the food is better than what you’re probably getting here,” Hermione pointed out tartly, and Ron seemed to consider that seriously before he slowly nodded.

“Yeah, it is. Good point.”

* * * *

“Can we talk?”

Hermione closed her book and focused on Harry as he sat down next to her on the sofa in their common space. The suite was small, but they had individual bedrooms and a common area with a sofa, fireplace, and dining table. She shifted around and set the book on the coffee table.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Today, when I was in the arena, Gawain noticed something about my magic.”

Hermione reached out and took his hand. “Is something wrong? Should we go to the Healing Hall?”

“No, not wrong, per se,” Harry said and rubbed his free hand on his jeans nervously. “Hermione, he said that he could feel your influence and that we have some kind of magical connection.”

“Influence?”

“I knew the moment you entered the room,” Harry said. “It was hard to ignore you and focus on what I was doing. And I responded to your disapproval. I don’t know what you were thinking exactly, but it was clear you weren’t happy with how casually I was taking the exercise. Gawain isn’t super concerned, but he did think I should point out we have some kind of magical affinity.”

“Master Warhide called it a magical investment,” Hermione said and picked up the book. “I’ve been reading about it, so I could have a lot of information to give you when I mentioned it. You work best with new topics if I already have answers to your questions.” She flushed when he raised an eyebrow at her. “You do.”

“I’m sorry if that has caused you stress in the past,” Harry said and released her hand. “What have you learned so far?”

“There are different kinds of magical connections ranging from family bonds in ancient families, like the Weasleys, to marriage bonds that can spontaneously form during ritual marriages,” Hermione said and opened the book with a little frown. She would’ve preferred more time to think about the information before sharing it. “Then there’s this.”

She offered him the book.

On rare occasions, a bond between two magical people can be created due to like-trauma when combined with ongoing danger. The function of such a bond is to ensure survival. The dominant magic user in the pairing can develop preternatural instincts in regard to protecting both their partner and the bond itself. While proximity will certainly cause the bond to deepen, it is generally considered to be indestructible. Provoking individuals bonded through trauma can lead to catastrophic consequences and is best avoided if at all possible. Additionally, it should be said that threatening either partner in the bond is profoundly dangerous and should be avoided if one would like to live a long life.

Sir Gawain stirred inside him and appeared with a shimmer of magic. He made a show of sitting down on the coffee table in front of them. He stared for a long silent moment.

“What like-trauma do the two of you share?” Gawain questioned as he focused on her. “I’m familiar with the circumstances of Harry’s upbringing and his interactions with Tom Riddle. But I’ve been very careful not to intrude on memories of your friendship or anything that might look like an intimacy between the two of you.”

“We haven’t had any intimacy,” Hermione said. “I want a magical marriage.”

Gawain inclined his head. “In my time, Hermione, allowing him to hold your hand would be a profound intimacy. Even when the way you’re prone to hugging him would’ve been scandalous.”

“Oh.” She flushed and laughed. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended your sensibilities since you’ve anchored, then.”

“I’ve adjusted over the years,” Gawain said. “Don’t worry about that sort of thing. I’ve had many relationships since I became a Revenant. I chose to live a chaste life as a knight of King Arthur’s court, but it has been a long time since such a goal was part of my life. Now, stop distracting me and explain what this information means to you.”

“My parents aren’t kind,” Hermione admitted reluctantly. “They’re religious zealots and have taken my life as a witch as a profound affront to their beliefs. Last year, they threatened me with an exorcism. I packed up everything I owned and basically ran away. I haven’t been home since.” She flushed. “I stayed on Diagon Alley last summer, and this summer, I just went straight to the place where we were before we came here.”

“Harry’s Muggle relatives have struck him repeatedly over the years,” Gawain said. “Have your parents done that to you?”

“Yes, but not since….” She touched the pendant. Only she and Harry could see it. “The ward that Harry put on me was for more than one reason.” She flushed. “We’ve never told anyone about this, Sir Gawain.”

“Just Gawain,” the older man said quietly, and his energy darkened. “One part of the modern world that I greatly appreciate is how the rights of children have changed over the years. It’s considered inappropriate to hit your children, right?”

“Yes, but my parents only care about what people see,” Hermione said. “It was made clear to me as a child that I would do exactly what they want and say nothing to anyone. I never dared disobey them until I received my Hogwarts letter. There was a little pamphlet attached to it that only I could see that outlined my rights as a magical person, and I knew they couldn’t deny me a magical education. They resent it, of course, and I wasn’t all that surprised when they never contacted the authorities to tell anyone that I ran away.”

“Will this bond encourage us to have feelings for each other?” Harry questioned. “Is it influencing her? Because I’m not on board with that, Gawain.”

“Such bonds are influenced by the magic of those connected,” Gawain said. “So, no, it’s not making either of you feel something for each other. Your emotional attachment is all yours.” He waved a hand. “And not abnormal, in the least, for magicals your age. You’ll see, over time, that most of the romantic connections made at Hogwarts during your final years of schooling will result in marriages. Some of them are probably encouraging their parents to arrange contracts.”

“Did you want us to go visit Professor McGonagall again?” Hermione questioned.

Gawain averted his gaze.

“Hermione,” Harry said quietly and inclined his head.

She huffed. “Are the two of you just not dealing with this situation at all, then? Ignoring things that hurt isn’t healthy, Harry, and you know it.” She crossed her arms when they both frowned at her, and Gawain shimmered away with a swish of Revenant energy. “Sure, go hide.”

Harry laughed. “Projection can be taxing, Hermione. He’s not hiding. Gawain is always careful about managing our magical connection.” He focused on the book. “You’ll have to tell Master Warhide about our conclusions regarding the magical investment he’s already taken note of.”

“I….” Hermione flushed and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to have that conversation with adults, Harry.”

“I understand,” Harry murmured. “But he’s your mentor, and he should probably have a better understanding of you than other adults in our lives.” Her hand slid against his palm, and he just waited as she laced their fingers together. “Sometimes, I think we’ve existed in a vacuum all of these years—insulated from the horribleness by our plans.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “It’s hard to trust anyone else.” She cleared her throat. “But I’ll speak to Master Warhide about it. I don’t worry that he’ll be dismissive about it. He was very angry over your history with your Muggle relatives.”

“We haven’t heard anything about the professor,” Harry said. “Gawain isn’t going to ask or encourage me to investigate further. He doesn’t want to intrude on her and believes that Esme has avoided him for hundreds of years on purpose.” He paused. “Well, she certainly has avoided him on purpose for many hundreds of years, and he doesn’t know why.”

“Did they have a fractious relationship while she was alive?” Hermione questioned.

“No, in fact, it doesn’t seem so. The duality is hard to explain, Hermione, but I think that unless there are profound personality conflicts, a Revenant will certainly develop attachments with their Anchor.” Harry took a deep breath when she stared at him. “It would be very hard to stay anchored if he grew to dislike you, honestly. I couldn’t tolerate it, and I doubt he could, either. Fortunately, I feel like he and I are very compatible.”

“It’s certainly why he chose you,” Hermione said and stood. “I’m going to the Healing Hall to see if I can get an update regarding Professor McGonagall. Will you be up when I return?”

“I was thinking I’d laze about in the bathtub, then go to bed,” Harry admitted. “I’m exhausted.”

She made a face. “Make sure the safety charm is set, so you don’t fall asleep and drown.”

He grinned at her. “I’m not a toddler.”

“Honestly, you’re worse. A toddler would be much easier to manage.” She checked her watch. “Did Gawain teach you apparition? We need to get you a license from the ministry before we return to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, and I’ll speak with Master Warhide about it.” He cleared his throat. “And it is different than what I did before. I think I did do it once when I was a little kid. Regardless, I already have getting a license on my list to avoid legal issues.”

* * * *

Hermione refrained from chewing her thumbnail as she waited for Master Stoneheart. She hadn’t expected to get her attention personally, so it was a little worrisome. It was only worse when the door to the room she was in opened, and Armand Deering appeared. He motioned her to follow him, and Hermione stood up. He was tall, and she had to rush a bit to catch up. He slowed down gracefully so his pace was an easier match to her own.

“I was told Master Stoneheart would give me an update on the professor. May I know why you aren’t at the ministry?”

“We’ve moved Minerva to a ritual room, and it is the best, most powerful to be found in this world is in this bank. It was built by Ragnok himself and has no equal,” Armand explained. “I’ve been honored in the past with permission to work in it when the magical need was dire.”

“And it’s dire now?”

“Very,” Armand said. “Security also became an issue at the ministry as two healers from the ICW tried to confiscate her for study.”

“That can’t be legal,” Hermione said huffily.

“No, but if they could’ve gained custody of her—we’d have had a hell of a time getting her back while the courts made their decisions. Unfortunately for them, they picked a fight with a man so deeply in love that he might very well fade if Minerva McGonagall dies. McGregor nearly tore down the damn ministry in the fight that ensued. I portkeyed out of the situation with Master Stoneheart and Minerva.”

“When did this happen?”

“About two hours ago,” McGregor said. “Louis Bertrand, the Chief Justice of the World Court, arrested both healers. One was from the United States and the other from Bulgaria.”

“Traditionally speaking, the magical governments of those two countries aren’t considered friends.”

“No, but as it turns out, both healers were schooled together at Durmstrang,” Armand said. “They’re in the custody of the DMLE, and a pair of war mages from the Magical Protectorate arrived twenty minutes ago. There will be a lot of arguing about who gets to prosecute those two arseholes first.” He opened a pair of doors and motioned her into the critical care part of the Healing Hall. “We’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that Minerva and her Revenant must be parted. She’s awake and capable of a conversation. When I asked her if you could visit, she insisted that I bring you straight to her immediately.”

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip to keep her questions to herself. “I’ll do anything I can to help her.”

“Yes, I believe you will,” Armand said carefully. “But please, Miss Granger, take any decision asked of you tonight seriously. Sometimes, when we’re young, we make rash choices without considering the ramifications.”

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Hermione blurted out. He stopped and focused on her. “Ever.”

He stared for a moment, then nodded. “The Earl of Gryffindor is a very smart young man for his steadfast dedication to you, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, of course, he is. I can’t hardly tolerate an idiot,” Hermione said with a firm nod and got a startled bit of laughter out of the older man in return. “So, these last few years living in the magical world has really been trying my patience.”

He held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

“What?” Hermione questioned.

“Your hit list.”

She huffed. “Master Warhide has already confiscated it!” Not that she couldn’t duplicate it perfectly, because she could. Armand Deering continued to laugh as he guided her through the hall and straight into a ritual room.

Hermione had only ever seen artists’ drawings of such rooms, so it was fascinating. Magical picture-taking wasn’t allowed in such spaces as many believed such a thing would be very disrespectful. She took a deep breath when Master Deering took her arm gently and guided her across the room to the altar where Minerva McGonagall was ensconced in a series of magical shields.

“Professor.”

Minerva turned her head and focused on Hermione. “Miss Granger, are you well?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione assured. “Harry’s apparently going to indulge in a bubble bath shortly. I told him to put a safety charm on the tub so he doesn’t drown. You know he’s an accident waiting to happen. At any rate, he told me he’s not a toddler.”

“He’s very much like a toddler,” Minerva said. “Men remain that way well into their thirties, lass, so keep that in mind as you go forward.” She held out her hand. “Hermione, I would speak to you as just another woman. If you will agree?”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione carefully took the older woman’s hand in her own and stepped closer to the altar. “Everyone is working really hard to help you. So, you’re going to be just fine.”

She smiled then, and Revenant energy drifted over her skin. “I need to ask the unspeakable of you.” Minerva squeezed her hand gently. “Please listen entirely before you say anything.”

Hermione nodded.

“You’ve had a few days since the announcement, so I’m sure you’ve read all about my Revenant.” She took a deep breath. “Anchoring Esme has been my profound honor for many years, and the thought of parting with her so soon is agonizing.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione blurted out. “We should’ve made people listen to us sooner.”

“Oh, lass, the damage has been done for decades—long before you were ever born.” She took a deep breath. “Esme is powerful, brilliant, and traumatized both by her past and our enslavement. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I had any other choice. But she needs the shelter of a very powerful and intelligent witch. She also needs the direct protection of an ancient and noble magical house. You are already a protected member of the House of Potter and legally the Earl of Gryffindor’s ward.”

“Sir Gawain thinks she hates him,” Hermione blurted out. “Is that true? Because I can’t….” Her eyes brightened with tears. “Every single day, they seem to settle into one another. I think they’ve nearly achieved a dual state already, and that’s supposed to take a year or more. I can’t Anchor Esme if she hates Gawain. It would be too hard…too mean.”

“It wasn’t hatred that kept her from him,” Minerva said. “It was shame and heartbreak. That same shame is the reason why she interfered and protected me during my sixth year at Hogwarts. She couldn’t let what had happened to her happen to me.” She paused. “Do you see?”

“The books say Godric’s brother murdered her to prevent the title….” She took a deep breath. “He killed her because he raped her?”

“Yes,” Minerva said. “And did not believe his threats would be enough to prevent her from telling her husband. It took me many years, but Esme no longer blames herself for what happened to her. I’ve never known the explicit details of her experience, so you needn’t worry that she’ll share them with you. It is something she would consider an immense betrayal of the covenant that exists between Anchor and Revenant.

“Armand, tell her the rest.” Minerva took a deep breath. “I won’t resent you at all if the answer is eventually no, Hermione. Please believe that.”

“Okay,” Hermione said quietly and squeezed her hand gently. “I will make a careful and considered choice, Minerva.”

The older witch smiled at her then. “Yes, I agree that you will.”

She focused on Armand Deering, and the healing team moved back into place as he motioned her to follow him. Shortly she found herself sitting in an office with him and Omis Stoneheart. Hermione said nothing as tea was poured, and a mug of it was pressed into her hand.

“It is a difficult decision,” Armand began, and Hermione shook her head.

“It is,” Omis interjected before Hermione could speak. “Whomever Anchors Esmeralda Ravenclaw will be a target, perhaps all of her life. She can’t go unanchored due to the way she was subjugated for years. Revenants are not meant to be constrained and controlled. No one is, but the damage is significant.”

“We have a duty to help her if we can,” Hermione said quietly. “And who else, if not me?” She blushed and averted her gaze. “Harry will strive to protect her due to the changes in him that have come from Sir Gawain. He all but told the world he’d go to war for her. I can’t say I don’t feel the same. Esme is a member of our magical house, and I want…. I want to go to Rome and murder Albus Dumbledore for what he’s done to her and Professor McGonagall.”

“The list of people who want to kill that wizard grows daily,” Omis said wryly, and Hermione laughed a little. “Are you worried that your wizard might gravitate toward the new Anchor if it is not you?”

“No, Harry is loyal and wears his honor all over his face. He can barely tell a lie at all, and anchoring has only made that more of a problem. I used to get so irritated when he couldn’t lie to further our plans. I had to change goals repeatedly in our first year because he’s just unfailingly, disgustingly honest nearly all the bloody time.” She huffed when they both laughed at her. “At any rate, I don’t worry about his fidelity. I worry about his attention being split and someone getting hurt. If she were to Anchor with a witch outside of our house, protecting her would be a financial concern as well.”

She took a sip of tea as they both stared at her and considered other angles. “It would probably be an adult witch, and frankly, I’m not comfortable with an older woman having standing in the house of Potter above me. A mother-in-law would be one thing, but this wouldn’t be that. She’d probably try to boss me around, and that would be a complete mess due to Sir Gawain’s magical investment in Godric’s wife.” She paused. “I’d rather not have that fight on a daily basis. I don’t think Europe would survive it, honestly.”

“You are mercenary as fuck,” Omis said with a grin. “Tyr must be beside himself with glee over the knowledge.”

Armand laughed.

“He’s not mad,” Hermione said as she continued to weigh her options. “Anchors live longer than the average magical, and I’d rather Harry not live upwards of a hundred years or more without me. I like to think he’d consider the possibility equally appalling. I’m, of course, honored that both Professor McGonagall and Esme consider me the best choice.” She nodded. “I have to speak with Harry and Sir Gawain before I make my final decision.”

“He didn’t consult you before accepting Sir Gawain,” Armand pointed out.

“You must consider enablement a genuine hobby,” Hermione said with a smile, and the wizard laughed. “I’m not seeking permission, of course, but perspective.”

“Well, you have until tomorrow afternoon to decide,” Omis said. “We’re still preparing for the ritual separation.”

* * * *

Harry stared at the table, confused by the fact that a meal was already in place. Hermione hadn’t ordered a single meal since they’d retreated to the bank. Gawain stirred inside of him, and Harry realized he was actually getting anxious.

“Are you okay?” Hermione questioned. “Did I get something wrong?”

He looked up and found her standing by her chair, wringing her hands and looking over the table nervously. “No, love, of course not.”

“Then what?” Hermione prodded as her cheeks flushed pink.

“I just realized that I’ve got some…issues,” he admitted and laughed. He walked around the table and pulled out her chair. “I find a stupid amount of comfort in routine.”

Hermione sat and took a deep breath. “I just didn’t want to waste any time.”

“Something wrong?” Harry asked as he sat and lifted his fork. The preservation charm on the food ended with a little flash of magic. “Or are you gearing up for a trip to the bookstore?”

“Well, I’m always game to go the bookstore,” Hermione said firmly. “We can do that after lunch.” Harry laughed. “As you know, I went to visit Professor McGonagall last night, and…they’re going to have to separate her and Esme in ritual, Harry. She’ll have to immediately Anchor again due to how much she’s suffered because of Dumbledore’s manipulation.”

Harry took a deep breath as grief swelled in his chest. “What are the chances they’ll find someone to Anchor her in such a state? It would be magically difficult, right?”

“She’ll be weak but not a magical burden,” Hermione said. “And Professor McGonagall asked…me.”

Relief and horror flickered through him in equal measure. Not all of it was his own. “You want to Anchor with a thousand-year-old Revenant who…has actively avoided the Revenant I carry since she was murdered?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I’m not asking permission, Harry.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you were,” Harry retorted and frowned at his eggs. He stabbed at the yolk of his fried egg, and it ran in a pleasing fashion. He frowned before grabbing the salt. “She was beaten to death, Hermione.”

“Are you telling me that Gawain never had any sort of traumatic event in his history? Seriously?”

“He hasn’t shared any of those memories,” Harry said and relaxed a little as Gawain assured him that Esmeralda Ravenclaw had been kind in life and would never purposefully hurt another. “But he is worried about her being in our space, considering how she’s avoided him for over 950 years.”

“It wasn’t about Sir Gawain,” Hermione said. “I think I have to tell you both this, but it is very difficult and private information.”

Harry nodded.

“What did Sir Gawain tell you about Esme’s murder?”

“That Godric’s brother killed her because she was pregnant,” Harry said. “Because the baby gave Godric issue for the title.”

Hermione’s eyes closed briefly. “How pregnant?”

Gawain drifted on Harry’s skin and projected. “Does it matter?”

“I just…. Please?” Hermione said as she focused on Gawain. “Can you tell me the timeline?”

“Godric took a trip with several others—magical transportation was rare and expensive both financially and magically, as moderation hadn’t been a concern during the spell development regarding apparition. At any rate, Esme was four months pregnant as we’d conceived in ritual. The date of conception wasn’t in question, so we had a due date which was rare for the time as maternity magic was in its infancy.”

Harry noted that her shoulders relaxed slightly at that piece of information, which made him nervous. “Mi, just tell us.”

“So, you weren’t there when she was killed?” Hermione prodded.

“We’d just returned from the trip, things were hectic as it had been a big trading trip, and we had a lot of unpacking to do,” Gawain murmured. “I’d checked on Esme as I’d been told she was feeling ill. She wasn’t in bed, which surprised me. I promised her I’d be back to the school in time for dinner, and she just smiled at me and said—of course, we’ll be waiting on you.” He closed his eyes. “It’s the last thing she said to me while she was alive, and she rarely spoke at all after she transitioned into a Revenant. Tostig murdered her before I returned for dinner.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, but not for the title.”

“I don’t…understand,” Gawain said. “Then why?”

“He.” Hermione took a deep breath and pushed aside her plate. “He raped her while Godric was gone and was afraid that she would tell his brother. So, he killed her to keep it a secret.”

Gawain stared for a long moment, then slowly faded away. Fury surged inside him, and Harry pressed a hand against his chest. The lack of a target settled on him then, and he sat back in the chair. There was no one left to punish for what was done, and Tostig hadn’t survived a single day for his actions, but maybe death hadn’t been enough justice.

“It’s been a long time, and the professor assured me that I wouldn’t be exposed to any of those memories. Plus, Esme’s had a lot of time to process and come to terms with her trauma.”

“Except she didn’t Anchor for hundreds of years and only then to prevent…an assault, right?”

“Right,” Hermione agreed. “Harry.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Harry admitted, picked up his sausage with his fingers, and took an aggressive bite. “What are you thinking?”

“It feels like our duty to shelter Esmeralda Ravenclaw,” Hermione said quietly. “Our magical duty as the house of Potter.”

“Because I Anchored the Earl of Gryffindor,” Harry said and took a deep breath when Hermione just nodded. “Right.”

“Do you disagree?”

“No, and I’m sorry for it,” Harry said. “Are there any other options?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “But think about how that would go.”

Harry considered it and quickly stumbled over the first consequence. “Well, she’d probably be an adult, and I’ve already told the world that I consider the protection of Esme to be the duty of the Earl of Gryffindor to the end of time.”

He exhaled slowly and finished off his sausage. It was surprising not to get a lecture for using his fingers. Harry wiped his hands on a napkin and picked up his fork.

“And?”

“Nothing, it’s a lot to process,” Harry admitted. “In the end, it’s your body you’ll be sharing, and I’ll support whatever decision you want to make, Hermione. I do feel the same sense of duty that you do. Will you need to speak with Master Warhide?”

“No, but I’ll probably chat with him about it for added perspective,” Hermione said. “His authority only extends to my educational choices, and even those are limited until I leave Hogwarts. I’ll work for him for a decade after I graduate, and in return, he’ll prepare me for any mastery in law that I wish to undertake. It’s a salaried position after Hogwarts, and I’m paid by the hour for any research I do for him in the meantime. I don’t get paid to study, of course.”

Harry nodded. They’d already gone over the details once before, but Hermione tended to retreat to safe topics when she was worried.

“An adult witch in our house might assume some authority over us both,” Harry said as he continued to mull over the situation. “Which is a non-starter, honestly. I couldn’t bring her into my house as a protected member until we were both considered legal adults, which is just a couple of years. She also might presume herself above you in the hierarchy of my house, and that’s not something I could tolerate.”

Gawain prodded him gently about the gender issue.

“But Gawain says the new Anchor could easily be a man,” Harry said.

Hermione seemed to consider it. “Professor McGonagall spoke consistently of another female Anchor. And considering her history, she might find continued comfort in the form and life of a woman.” She flushed. “She’s clearly had exposure to a positive sexual relationship through her anchoring with Minerva. And I assume that her relationship with Godric was a loving one.”

Harry really didn’t want to discuss anyone’s sex life, but he’d gotten a lecture in the past about ignoring mature topics as it wasn’t good communication. Plus, as a girl’s bestfriend, he’d been required to wizard up ages ago regarding girls and their bodies. He knew way too much about Hermione’s cycle, but he was never going to admit thinking that. Gawain seemed to be reluctantly amused by his train of thought.

“What do you know about Esme?” Hermione questioned.

“She was serious, unconcerned with social politics, and arranged her own marriage. Godric was fifteen years older than her, and Rowena didn’t want the marriage for her,” Harry said as the information basically unfolded in his mind. Every day, the transfer of information seemed more seamless and gentle. “But Esme decided that she would be the Countess of Gryffindor, and she told Godric exactly that. Apparently, he just nodded and told her to go put on her best dress. They got married that afternoon.”

Hermione laughed.

“She wanted many children, but they failed to conceive naturally. After Godric became an Anchor, Esme suggested a ritual conception as it would allow the three of them to pool their magic to create a baby. Specifically, they sought a male child as there might only be one pregnancy. So, the baby was biologically Godric and Esme’s, but magically Gawain was the father as well.”

“Would he want us to do the same?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Let’s think about it and weigh out the pros and cons of that. Such a child would be very powerful, right? Especially if you Anchor as well.” He paused. “We can’t dismiss the Harry Potter Factor entirely on this subject.”

“Right! If we’re going to produce the second coming of Merlin, it’ll be on purpose,” Hermione said firmly and took a bite of her toast.

Harry laughed.

* * * *

Hermione was kind of flummoxed by the lack of surprise on Tyr Warhide’s face. Harry hadn’t seen the prospect coming, and she thought most people assumed that either Esme wouldn’t be able to Anchor again or she’d stay with Minerva McGonagall as long as she could due to the damage done to them both.

“What concerns you going into the process?”

“I’ll face a lot of scrutiny. I know that two healers from the ICW basically tried to kidnap her already for study,” Hermione said. “Some people are looking at her circumstances and wondering what aspects could be duplicated so they could exert control over the Revenant population. There was a time when magical people invested themselves in trying to capture Revenants, and we know they did experiment heavily, in the very distant past, on the non-magical Revenants in order to create magic to hide our communities from them.”

“There are a bevy of laws, both international and local, to protect Revenants, magical or not, in modern times,” Tyr said. “And your circumstances aren’t normal. You already enjoy more magical and legal protection than the average witch.” She nodded. “And, with Lord Gryffindor’s permission, we can add to the ward you already wear to protect you further. We can also make it an emergency portkey that will deliver you to the closest Gringotts’ branch in the event you are taken.”

Hermione nodded.

“And trust in the fact that I would ruin every single person involved in such a thing,” Tyr said mildly, and she smiled brightly at him. “Our apprentice contract will expire, but my status as your mentor will only end with your death, Hermione. I take such commitments very seriously, and I’ll outlive you by several hundred years.” He paused. “Even if you become an Anchor.” He checked his watch. “Razel wants to meet you and the earl, so you’ll be having lunch with us.”

“I’ll go get Harry,” Hermione said and hopped up because she was dying to see the baby.

* * * *

Absolutely no one told him he was going to be made to hold the baby. Harry was certain of that, but he accepted the tiny bundle of blankets when she was offered at Gawain’s rather urgent prompting. Apparently, refusing would’ve been a grave insult as dverger parents didn’t trust just anyone with their child. She was tiny, and he hadn’t expected that. Of course, he’d seen precious few infants in his life, but if she weighed two pounds, he’d be surprised.

“Why is she so small?” he asked and flushed at the looks he received.

“We’re small,” Razel Fireborn said in amusement. “The average dverger infant can weigh anywhere from one and a half to two pounds at birth. I think the record was only four pounds.”

She nearly fit in the palm of his hand.

“Her name is Norah,” Razel said. “And I’m sure she’s pleased to meet the Earl of Gryffindor.”

Harry laughed. “One day, she’ll have a lot to say about you speaking for her. Especially if she takes after your aunt in any fashion.”

“For the love of Mahal, lad, what a terrible thing to wish on us,” Razel said with a smile and sat comfortably back in the chair he’d not risen from upon their arrival.

“I can see why your children aren’t allowed to be in the public areas of the bank,” Harry said quietly as he let her rest carefully against his forearm. Hermione shifted closer to him on the sofa. “She’ll be small like this for a long time, right?”

“She’ll be twice that size in a year,” Tyr said. “And she’ll walk at two, barring any complications. The average four-year-old of our species stands between twelve and fourteen inches tall. As an adult, the average dwarrowdam will only stand around four feet. The tallest full-blooded dverger on record was five foot in his socked feet, and he was considered an oddity.”

“And Norah won’t be an adult until she’s fifty,” Harry said as he stared at the sweet face of Ragnok Windrider’s granddaughter. He understood the chieftain’s demanding and protective nature more than he ever had before.

“Legal maturity is at fifty, but magical maturity happens around seventy-five,” Razel said. “What concerns you?”

“It’s just….” Harry took a deep breath. “How many dverger children are there?”

“Under the age of fifty?” Tyr questioned, and Harry nodded. “Upwards of 10,000. I could provide you a specific number if I researched it. But why is the information important to you?”

“Wizards are terrible and cruel,” Harry said. “Their own children have precious few rights, and they afford no rights at all to any other magical creature unless they literally have no choice.”

Hermione pressed closer, and he could feel her body chilling as she pulled her magic close. They needed to work on that as it was an overt tell, and no one needed that window into her mind. Harry knew what it was like to be small and vulnerable. He could barely think about his Uncle Vernon without his bones starting to hurt, and that bastard had towered over him his entire life.

“Can Hermione hold her?”

“Yes, of course,” Tyr said.

Harry carefully transferred the baby to Hermione’s eager hands and cleared his throat. “Please tell the chieftain that Sir Gawain is willing to stand as the patron of the horde until he ceases to exist, and he will never go unanchored for more than a month again if he can help it.”

Razel nodded, clearly shocked by the offer.

“I want one,” Hermione said and huffed when they all looked at her. “What?”

Tyr cleared his throat and focused on Harry with a pointed look. “This is when you need to refrain from giving her whatever she wants when she wants, lad.”

Harry laughed even as Hermione blushed.

* * * *

“Do you feel manipulated?” Gawain questioned.

Harry looked up and focused on the Revenant as he appeared by the dresser. He’d gotten his laundry back, so he was sorting it to avoid getting a lecture about being a slob. Hermione was a very organized person and thrived on order. Harry had learned over the years that a neat environment actually relieved his stress.

“On which front?”

“The patron issue.”

“No, I doubt either Tyr Warhide or Razel Fireborn meant to do anything more than show off their beautiful child. They couldn’t have predicted that it would remind me of what it was like to have my uncle kick me around and punch me as a toddler. I don’t even know why I remember it.”

“The abuse resonates in your magic, and you remember it due to survival instinct,” Gawain said. “And we’re going to do something about those two awful Muggles, Harry. I won’t have them go unpunished for their disgusting behavior.”

Harry tucked his socks into the top drawer and reviewed what was left of the basket. Mostly boxers and undershirts. His wardrobe had taken a turn since Hermine had gotten free rein on the subject. He put the rest of the clothes away and returned the basket to the bathroom cabinet, where it would automatically collect any clothes he took off that needed to be cleaned.

“We can do whatever you want to Vernon and Petunia Dursley,” Harry said. “I have no love for them and don’t care what happens to them. My cousin is a bully and will probably end up in prison if he doesn’t figure himself out. So leaving him to his own devices without his parents to buy him out of trouble would be revenge enough.”

“I’m sure Hermione has a plan.”

“She’s been sending them cursed letters through the Muggle post for years,” Harry said in amusement. “She works on them all year, then sends them over the summer. The first one was designed to make them leave me alone, and they received it the day after we returned home after first year. It worked too well as they forgot I existed. I had to send Hedwig to Diagon Alley to get me food.”

Gawain laughed.

“Tell me how you really feel about this thing with Esme,” Harry said. “You’re clearly keeping a lot to yourself.”

“I want to have her as close as possible,” Gawain said. “But that’s not fair to you or Hermione. I would be relieved if Esme Anchored with Hermione because you clearly intend to marry her. But is that reasonable?”

“Is all the love you have for her Godric’s, or did you fall in love, too?” Harry questioned.

Gawain exhaled slowly. “Harry.”

“I need some honesty here,” Harry snapped. “Because it doesn’t feel like I even half the truth on this subject.”

“Godric adored Esme and indulged her every single whim,” Gawain said eventually. “And I fell utterly in love with her. He didn’t know it until after she was dead because I never wanted to intrude. Losing her was devastating for us both, and we never recovered. I think he sought integration with me so he wouldn’t have to face the afterlife without her.”

Harry nodded. “I used to worry that growing up the way I did would make it difficult for me to love anyone, you know.”

“Any sort of love requires trust, in my opinion. And betrayal can twist it up until it looks and feels like hatred,” Gawain said. “So, I understand how hard it might be for an abused child to imagine love.”

“Did Godric seek you out so you could provide his wife with the child he couldn’t?” Harry questioned, and Gawain’s eyes widened slightly. “You don’t know.”

“He did volunteer to Anchor me—along with over a hundred others. I chose him because I believed he lived a moral and honorable life. I wasn’t wrong about that, and if he’d told me he wanted my magical power to give his wife a child, I wouldn’t have resented him for it. His dedication to educating and protecting magical children was compelling. It was that influence that drew me to you when you were an infant. I should’ve searched for you after your mother was murdered. I could’ve protected you until you were old enough to defend yourself. I owed her that. The entire magical fucking world owed her that.”

“Well, that’s a debt I intend on collecting for her in some fashion or another until the day I die,” Harry said, and Gawain grinned.

A sharp knock on his bedroom door caught his attention then, so he went to answer it. Hermione crossed her arms as he opened the door.

“Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” she answered immediately, then frowned.

Hermione took his hand and pulled him out of the bedroom in adherence to the unspoken rule they’d sort of settled on about entering each other’s bedroom since retreating to the bank. There was no one around to be an adult for them, so they’d had to start managing that kind of thing on their own.

She pulled him all the way to the center of their common space and released his hand. “I need to ask you to do something that’s probably going to be disconcerting.”

“I’m listening,” Harry said and smiled when she huffed.

“I want to have a very private moment with you,” Hermione blurted out. “Just me and you.”

Gawain shifted with alarm inside of him. “Are you asking Sir Gawain to unmoor?”

“Merlin, no, of course not.” She huffed. “I’m not an idiot, Harry. Such a thing so new into your anchoring process would probably hurt a lot and damage your magic.”

Harry nodded. “Then what?”

“I just came from speaking with Master Deering. In an hour, I’m going to go to the ritual chamber and accept Esme,” Hermione blurted out. “So, it’s never, ever going to be just me and you again. I don’t consider it a sacrifice or a burden, though some people think I should. But before all that happens, I just need a moment with you. I think we owe this to each other, Harry.”

I can enter a state of profound rest that will be very much like sleep, Gawain communicated. You can wake me when you wish, or I’ll do it on my own in about an hour.

“Gawain says he can rest for about an hour, and it will seem like he’s asleep,” Harry explained. Hermione nodded quickly. The retreat was so swift and shocking that he actually felt cold. He shuddered and focused on Hermione, who was staring at him in alarm. “What?”

“It was just the retreat of Revenant energy was overtly visible,” Hermione said quietly. “I don’t think I realized how much impact he was having on your aura until just now.” She wet her lips. “Kiss me.”

“What?” Harry questioned.

“I’d like our first kiss to just be us with none of the history that our Revenants have intruding on it,” Hermione admitted, and Harry took a deep breath. “Is that offensive? Because I don’t mind sharing everything else with them going forward because that’s what it means to Anchor, and I understand that.”

“No, love, of course not,” Harry said and held out a hand which she took easily. He pulled her close slowly so that if she hesitated, he’d notice. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“No, I mean not unless you count Scotty Wilholm in the third grade, who practically tackled me and slobbered all over my cheek until I pulled his hair,” Hermione said tartly. “Then I gave him a blistering lecture about respect until the teacher got his hair out of my hand.”

“We can go kick his arse if you like.”

“He never lived it down anyways. I bet he was relieved when I went to private school,” Hermione said and tilted her chin up a little.

Harry let one hand settle on her hip as he brushed his mouth gently against hers. Magic shifted between them, and she pressed closer. He hoped that meant she wanted more because he really didn’t want to set off the ward. It wouldn’t kill him for a misstep, but the punitive magic was nothing to trifle with, and he wasn’t an exception in any single way. Her mouth was soft and sweet against his.

As she stepped back, he noted that her eyes were practically shining with magic. Harry took a deep breath. “Are you anchoring because you want it or because you’re worried that we might eventually want whomever Esme does end up with?”

“I want it, and it feels like my duty,” Hermione said but then frowned. “I don’t feel any ownership over you, Harry. If there ever comes a day when friendship is all you want from me, then I will understand.”

Harry nodded. “I feel the same—nothing we’ve planned for our future is contingent on a romantic or sexual relationship with you. I promised you the protection of my magical house, and there is no end to that agreement.” He paused. “But also, I’m totally all in on the promotion. I think we could make a good life together, and there’s no one I trust more.”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “Me, too.”

* * * *

“I am Lenore Feyborn.” The female dverger paused and inclined her head. “High Priestess of the Horde and wife of Ragnok Windrider.”

Hermione took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her stomach. She’d been given a ritual robe to wear and allowed no other clothing. It had made the fact that the chamber had been cleared of all males all the more relieving. She had been briefly put off by the fact that Harry wouldn’t be allowed to attend the ritual. Though, he’d seemed to already know that would be the case and was waiting in the Healing Hall.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Feyborn,” Hermione said.

“To facilitate this ritual, we have invited a coven of druids to moderate the power of the circle.”

Hermione glanced toward the group of witches, all dressed in pale green robes. They seemed to be clouded in shadow despite the brightness of the room. She’d never seen a druid, and very little was said about them in the books that she owned.

“The magic of a druid is nothing like you practice,” Lenore said. “And it is also very different from the magic I’ve carried within me all of my life. It will feel very strange to you, but we believe they will provide a much-needed buffer for Esmeralda Ravenclaw as she unmoors, which she desperately needs. She is vulnerable to magical influence currently.

“Coven magic is special, Hermione. It weaves into the fabric of the natural world governed by the mother, Gaia. These druids follow the mother faithfully. I realize such principals may have been introduced to you as mythology, but we ask that you trust us on this magical journey.”

Hermione nodded but couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her gaze went back to the druids, and she realized what she was seeing. The Daughters of Gaia had come to Britain. No one even knew where they came from or where their ritual circle was founded. They’d existed as a coven for many hundreds of years. Hermione wondered if one or more of them had offered themselves up to Esme as an Anchor.

“Minerva wants you to know that the outcome of the ritual is not dependent on you,” Lenore said and guided her gently to the second altar. “And if we fail to save them—you will not suffer for it.”

Hermione slid up onto the altar and took a deep breath before she lay down. She turned her head and focused on Minerva McGonagall, who was no longer being held in a medical stasis field. The altars were close enough that they could touch, and as if the thought echoed between them, Minerva reached out for her. Hermione took the older woman’s hand, and they laced their fingers together.

The dverger females created the inner circle, and Hermione could see the druids moving around the ritual circle in the growing darkness. Magic heaved around her then they all started to speak in a language she didn’t understand and maybe couldn’t be made to understand. In other circumstances, realizing such a thing would’ve frustrated her, but more and more, Hermione was starting to realize her path in the magical world needed a focus. Knowing everything was an unrealistic goal, and it didn’t allow for genuine mastery.

Minerva’s fingers chilled against hers, and she focused on the older witch. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, and horror swelled inside of her. Hermione tightened her grip on the older witch’s hand and jerked slightly. Minerva’s gaze met hers.

“Stay,” Hermione pleaded. “Please.”

Minerva wet her lips, and her chest heaved as Revenant energy swirled around them then. “Esme.”

“Minerva.” The Revenant appeared in the small space between the altars. “My darling, please don’t let Albus’ crimes against us be the end of you.”

“I’m so tired,” Minerva said.

“Then sleep but stay,” Esme said gently and kissed her forehead. “I still need you. Remember what we promised each other?”

“Yes,” Minerva said, and her eyes fluttered shut as she relaxed.

Hermione was relieved by the heat warming her professor’s fingers. “Don’t sleep long.” Minerva squeezed gently and released her hand.

Esme focused on her then. “I’m sorry we could not speak before this moment, Hermione. I’ve watched you since you were sorted. Minerva and I decided near the end of your first year that one day we would ask you if you would Anchor me. I hoped we would have many years to get to know each other.”

“I’ve learned already that no plan goes exactly how you wish it,” Hermione said. “We’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can,” Esme said. “But you’ll only be my second Anchor, and I didn’t give Minerva a choice, so I don’t have a lot of experience with this.”

“What?” Hermione questioned in shock.

“She’d been knocked unconscious,” Esme said. “I had to protect her from what he planned to do. I offered to leave her later, not knowing we’d already been trapped together by Dumbledore, but she declined. She found safety in our duality. I hope you will as well.”

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath to relax as Esme touched her for the first time. Her magic shifted, and the voices rose again. The language still didn’t make any sense. If she could’ve cared about that, she’d have at least felt normal. Her magic shifted, and her core seemed to swell in a way she’d never expected possible.

A hand settled on her arm, and Hermione focused on Omis Stoneheart. She found words beyond her, so she just nodded when the dverger inclined her head. Omis lifted her hand away with a quick smile, and Hermione let exhaustion claim her.

* * * *

Harry shot up out of his seat as soon as the doors opened. The man he knew to be Thaddeus Banner was carrying Hermione.

“What’s happened?”

“The ritual was successful,” Banner said quietly as he placed Hermione on an infirmary cot in the room. “She’s magically exhausted but has no core fractures.”

“And Professor McGonagall?” Harry questioned because he knew Hermione would want to know.

“Also exhausted but alive from all reports. She was gone from the ritual chamber when I was summoned and asked to bring Miss Granger here,” Banner said and stepped back as Harry arranged a blanket over Hermione.

“She gets cold,” Harry said, and the older man just nodded. “Were there any complications? She’ll want to know.”

“Master Stoneheart will be here shortly to discuss the ritual. The Glain Neidr was not allowed in the room during the ritual itself, as our magic is not compatible with the workings of a coven. I do know, only because I saw them briefly, that the Daughters of Gaia were here.”

“Pardon me, Master Banner,” Harry said roughly. “If I find no comfort in the idea that a thousand-year-old druid sect came here for the ritual. I read in my magical theory text that they only participate in our rituals when things are epically fucked up.”

Banner offered him a quick grin. “Things were epically fucked up, Lord Gryffindor. The potential destruction of a Revenant is a nightmare. I’ve heard, but wasn’t able to confirm, that Dumbledore has been made to make an unbreakable vow to never discuss how he did it.”

“How’d they make him do that?” Harry questioned.

“Rumor has it that the World Court of Magic gave a war mage from the Magical Protectorate explicit permission to force the vow by any means necessary,” a female voice said, and Harry focused on Omis as she came to stand near the head of the cot. “An unbreakable vow can be made under duress—physical or mental. It’s normally considered a grave crime. But it can be done legally, in special circumstances, if the person in question is capable of doing something that endangers society at large. Your kind rarely imposes capital punishment internationally.”

Harry sat down in the chair next to the cot as Banner left them and focused on Hermione. Gawain was silent and seemingly content in their duality. That the ritual had gone well seemed to be all that the Revenant needed to know.

“How has the anchoring impacted her magic?” Harry questioned as he focused on Omis. “Master Banner said there were no core fractures.”

“She’ll sleep as much as ten hours,” Omis said. “Her exhaustion is both physical and magical. Her magic easily accepted the Revenant elements, and Esmeralda Ravenclaw spoke with her before the anchoring began.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“She’ll recover slowly without magical interference, and that’s my preference. Forcing her magic to replenish shouldn’t be done as a matter of course though I know that is common for your kind.”

“Hermione thinks that humans, especially adults, think they’re fundamentally safe because they have magic. When they’re magically exhausted, it’s mentally so disconcerting that they don’t even question a restorative potion even if it hurts.” He paused. “And I admit, I’d be inclined to force a replenishment in nearly any situation where I only had myself to depend on a defensive level. Or, if I felt responsible for other people and required magic to see my duty done to them.”

“Which is exactly why such potions exist,” Omis said. “As sometimes the needs of those around us outweigh any sacrifice we must make.” She sat down in the chair beside him. “I was told that you were quite upset to meet Norah.”

Harry didn’t think the word upset really covered it. “I…she’s very small.”

“Yes, but strong in her own way. Our children are very hearty. They have to be,” Omis said. “Not invulnerable, of course. As parents, my species is militant in the protection of our young. Why does it concern you, Lord Gryffindor?”

“You can call me Harry,” he said quietly. “My Muggle uncle is three times my size, even at my current size, and it was like living with a giant when I was very little. He often hit me with his fist or whatever object he found nearby. I know what it’s like to be vulnerable and at the mercy of someone significantly larger than myself. I don’t know why I’m so fixated on the size of your children except to say that I’ve always felt small and unsafe. Anchoring with Sir Gawain was the most security I’ve ever known in my entire life.” He focused on her then and found her staring at him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry to upset you.”

“I’m furious.” Her aura flared. “How often did that bastard hit you?”

“Well, he’s responsible for most of the childhood injuries you and Madam Pomfrey discussed in my records. He also made sure his wife didn’t feed me more than she absolutely had to,” Harry said. “My aunt is no innocent in that, though. She hates me for being magical and hated my mother for the very same reason. She’s cruel, self-centered, and very invested in her reputation in an odd way.”

“What do you mean by odd?” Omis questioned.

“She…didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of her regarding how she treated me. I was dressed in clothes that were too big for me nearly always. I was made to do chores outside, no matter how hot it was. I was clearly underweight, and no one seemed to care or comment on it. Hermione and I thought she might be magically influenced because it seems like she’d be embarrassed by how she allowed me to be treated.

“But we had a house elf check for us last year, and the only magic on my Muggle family is the remnants of Hermione’s little cursed letters. She likes to send them a letter or two every year to make them treat me well or ignore me. It worked. Also, she punishes them in a casual way. I always thought if she has an animagus form, then it is probably a cat of some sort.”

“I should ask her what she used last; there’s no use in doubling up and killing them before we’re ready,” Omis said darkly and stood. “You can stay for a few hours, but then you’re going to bed whether you like it or not.”

Harry pulled his chair closer to the cot and focused on Hermione’s face. She looked pale but not sick. He wondered what Esme looked like, and immediately a memory of dancing with her filled his mind. Harry was surprised as Gawain didn’t often share memories directly without serious prompting on his part. She was startlingly beautiful, with a sweet smile and eyes that practically danced with magic.

“Harry.”

The memory faded quickly away, and Harry reached out to take the hand Hermione was offering. “We’re here.” He shifted forward and pressed a kiss to her hand as he took a deep breath. “You’re going to be fine. Everything went well, and Professor McGonagall is recovering, too.”

“Stay until we go to sleep.” Her fingers tightened in against his.

“Of course.”

The End

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