Chapter Ten: Invocation

When I'm asked which is the most successful Beltane I've ever witnessed, I am hard put to answer. What makes it perfect? I once participated in a ceremony in which not a word was out of place, not a dance step wrong. Every part of it ran like a military operation. It was the driest, most boring afternoon I've ever spent. Didn't even get my leg over. Perfect, when it comes to Beltane, is in the eye of the beholder.

~Chapter Ten: Don't Panic, It Can't Possibly Be That Bad – The Witch Hiker's Guide To Beltane

~o0o~

"The sun and moon are your eyes, and your mouth is fire; your radiance warms the cosmos. You lap the worlds into your burning mouths and swallow them. Filled with your terrible radiance...the whole of creation bursts into flames. Tell me who you are, O Lord of terrible form..." ~The Bhagavad Gita

The chime rang, and Minerva called, "Come."

Filius' head appeared in the doorway. "All ready to go, Mistress of Revels?"

The laughter left her lips before she could rein it in. "That has got to be the most lurid robe I have ever seen, Filius Flitwick, and I worked with Albus Dumbledore for forty years!"

Swanning into the study, Filius swept about, almost dancing around the room, showing off the robe's kaleidoscopic patterns of red, purple, green, yellow and black. "I know, and isn't it wonderful? I feel like a gaudily-plumed bird." He gave her one of his beaming great smiles. "You look radiant yourself, Minerva. Like a phoenix in human form."

She adjusted her red, orange and yellow robes. "Thank you, Filius. Let's hope that's a good omen."

"Absolutely! The Wizarding world, rising from the ashes. That's what we're doing tonight...showing the world that the traditions are as natural and necessary as the cycle of life...and just as beautiful."

She was calmed by his cheerful and insightful soul. "You're a fine wizard and a great man, Filius."

Abashed, he blushed. "And you are a great woman and a formidable witch, Minerva. And long may it be so!" He offered her his arm. "Harry's on the pitch, as ready as he'll ever be. The rest of the staff has gathered on the front steps, ready to go. They look incredible. And they're well up for it; I've not seen them so excited since...well, since I don't know when."

"Severus and Hermione?"

Filius looked up to the heavens in gratitude. "They look amazing. I'm glad we had them practice on their own. Everyone is agog. You can't take your eyes off them. They're going to steal the show!"

Minerva released the breath she had not realised she'd been holding. "Then lead on, Master of Revels."

She and Filius reached the group waiting on the stairs, and she stopped in her tracks. Her staff was talking in animated, excited tones. Every bright colour of the rainbow was well represented; they looked like so many raucous parrots. Just beyond them, standing apart, were Severus and Hermione, chatting desultorily with Magister Honeyclutch. "You weren't exaggerating, Filius," Minerva breathed, marveling.

Hermione and Severus hadn't yet noticed Minerva, so she took the opportunity to have a long look at them. Curling in long, ribbon-like spirals of honey-coloured curls and interwoven with small flowers in every colour of the rainbow, Hermione's hair was a feat of magical engineering. Her gown was a Grecian style, soft and flowing in shades of copper, amber and jade. Her waist was girdled in a wide band of gold overlapping ovals, which were overlayed with bright green cloisonné. She looked as fresh and wholesome as spring, and her skin glowed with the excitement and health of youth.

The Magister made an amusing comment, and she threw back her head and laughed, her eyes sparkling. Severus ducked his head and laughed shortly, his eyes fixed on her with quiet, fond appreciation. Minerva had been jesting when she had teased Hermione about giving her a run for her money, but seeing Severus Snape like this was serious incentive to consider it. Cornelius was right, Minerva thought. Severus is everything this ritual is about.

He looked like a textbook illustration of Merlin come to life. He was resplendent in green and brown, with a magnificent robe trimmed in fur. The antler crown sat atop his glistening hair as if it grew from his head, and the golden torc at his throat gleamed dully, reflecting against his marble-pale skin. He held a long staff in one hand, and Hermione's hand in the other.

"Was I right, or was I right?" Filius asked, brimming with satisfaction.

"Have the press seen them?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied conspiratorially. "I thought it best to stay out of sight as much as possible until we make our grand entrance."

Minerva nodded. "Let's make it, then. It's almost time." She called out, "Everyone! Your attention please. As the Muggles say, 'It's Showtime'!"

As they waited at the entrance into the pitch, Severus felt that strange, disjointed, not-quite-himself feeling again. It was there and gone in a quick, jolting instant, but instead of making him feel dizzy or absent, it filled him with a sudden, racing excitement. He turned to the headmistress. "Let's do this, Minerva. Hermione?"

He turned to the beautiful witch who had kept her hand clasped in his all the way from the castle to the pitch. She looked up at him with affection and excitement sparkling in her warm eyes. "I can't wait...let's do it," she declared, her smile brilliant and more importantly, just for him.

Everything was going to be perfect.

They walked through the cornfield to the sound of pounding, insistent drums, trilling flutes and the silver ring of tambourines beating out a rhythm. As Minerva appeared in the center of the circle, the spectators' excited babble increased to a roar. It sounded like a Quidditch crowd, loud and happy and ready for something good.

The stands had been magically raised, so the spectators could see down into the circle, and yet have a good vantage point of the surrounding cornfield and one another. The stands were full of witches and wizards all dressed in bright, flashy colours. Many were waving pennants flashing "I heart Beltane" and "Beltane me, baby", alternately. Many were dressed like Cernunnos, with antler crowns; just as many were dressed like the goddess, in her gown of green, copper and amber. There were dozens of maypoles dotted around the perimeter of the pitch, and children danced around them, weaving them with brightly coloured streamers. Flowers were everywhere, making the pitch look like a cornfield surrounded by a garden. He counted at least five weddings being officiated.

Overhead, Severus saw several unmanned brooms swooping across the sky. They were the famous Wizarding Wide Web broom-cams that would broadcast the ritual live all over their world. He turned to Hermione, who was watching a bride toss her bouquet toward the stands. "That could have been you, Granger," he said, whispering in her ear. "I'm surprised Weasley hasn't decided this would be a perfect time...

"Don't even say it, Snape!" she declared. The look she gave him was part amused and part horrified.

He watched as the broom-cam director got them all in place, and yelled, "Okay, we are going live in five... four... three..." He mouthed 'two, one,' and pointed to Hermione.

Hermione raised her hands, and in a Sonorus-enhanced voice, she cried, "Wizarding Britain! Blessed Be!"

Severus took a deep breath, and mimicked her gesture. "Blessed Be!"

The crowd leapt to their feet, and "Blessed Be!" rang from thousands of throats in the stands, in Wizarding Britain, and all over the world. The words washed over Severus, and he swallowed hard. The electric excitement of the moment was a collective feeling that spread throughout the crowd like wildfire, and it was hard not to get caught up in it.

Severus blinked and continued, "Turn to thy friend and spin deosil round, that the gods may bless your communion with us tonight."

He took Hermione's hand and kissed it, spinning her clockwise. She laughed delightedly. Caught up in the emotion of the moment, his heart swelled with the realisation that he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. It might have been a long time coming, but it was right on time.

He actually opened his mouth to tell her, but before he could confess, she was spinning away toward Magister Honeyclutch, and Severus was moving toward Minerva.

"Blessed Be, Severus," Minerva said, as he spun her in his arms, and he kissed her weathered cheek. She looked up at him with fondness. "You look absolutely splendid. I'm so proud of you! Thank you for being our High Priest."

"Thank you," he replied, truly humbled, and she gave him a kiss in return. Each witch of his 'Coven' was spun in turn, and kissed, and they told him how beautiful he was, and how lucky they were. It was enough to turn a wizard's head, but by the time they were done he'd spun around so many times he had to whisper a quiet self...Equilibrius to keep from staggering all over the pitch.

Finally, all the greetings were made, and the crowd quieted. Hermione held aloft the Sword of Gryffindor, and turned slowly in the middle of the circle, chanting, "Ye Lords of the Watchtowers of the East, West, North and South, we ask that you join us in this most sacred Beltane!"

Magic swirled around them, kicking up dust devils inside the circle. Severus could see the corona of light as it blazed over Hermione's body, and it took his breath away.

She continued, "The old way has been ever thus: whenever we have need of anything, then shall we assemble in some secret place.

"We who are fain to learn all wizardry, yet have not won its deepest secrets; to these will the god and goddess teach things that are yet unknown. The dark and the light in succession, these are opposites each unto each other."

She turned to Severus, and in a clear, strong voice full of conviction, she recited, "And we shall be free from slavery; the god and goddess do not demand sacrifice. As a sign that we are really free, we shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in the praise of the god and goddess of Beltane. For behold he is the Father of all living things. She is the Mother of all living things. Together they become the soul of nature, who gives life to the universe.

"Enter with me into this rite of Beltane, my friends. For this is the only commandment: If It Harms None, Do What Thou Will. This shall be the challenge: So be it in love that harms none, by magic of old, be it done!"

At the last word the large circle began to glow with golden light, and the crowd cheered as if their home team had just scored a Double Quaffle Turnback in the final seconds before the snitch went to ground.

Hermione turned back to Severus, and placed the sword in his hands. The crowd calmed a little, and he could almost feel them leaning forward. His voice sounded musical to his own ears:

"For in old time, Woman was the altar. Therefore should we adore it; therefore, whom we adore we also invoke."

He closed his eyes, and blocked out everything but the magic, and the incantation. "I conjure thee, O Circle of Power! Thou art a meeting place of love and joy and truth; a shield against all wickedness and evil; in the names of Cernunnos and Aradia!"

He knelt at Hermione's feet and allowed the emotion to colour his voice. For once, he didn't care who was there who might mock, or scorn, or condemn him. He spoke only for the witch before him, the woman he loved. "O Circle of Stars, marvel beyond imagination, soul of infinite space, before whom time is ashamed, the mind bewildered, and the understanding dark, not unto thee may we attain unless thine image be love."

A silver circle entwined with the gold, and the Hogwarts Coven was enclosed in shining, pulsating light. Severus rose, and together, they recited: "For thou art the point within the Circle, which we adore. The point of life, without which we would not be. To the wonder and glory of all men."

The drums started a slow, steady beat, and the Coven backed out of the circle together, until only Severus and Hermione remained. A soft rush rose from the stands; a low, collective voice, chanting in time with the drums. He looked at Hermione in puzzlement, but she merely smiled back at him.

Suddenly, Magister Honeyclutch bellowed in a ringing voice, "Now it is time for the Oak King to claim Our Lady goddess. For only then can life return to the earth; for only then can darkness return to the light. No longer will she be the Virgin Huntress and Maiden. She is now to be Hecate, the Queen of Elphame. But first, he must catch her!"

The crowd roared like a mighty animal, and Severus understood at last what they were saying. They were chanting, "Horned Stag, run through the wood, the wood of gold and green, Lead us down the ancient path to mysteries unseen..."

With a wink, Hermione ran from the circle. Severus threw his large over-robe onto the ground, cancelled his Sonorus, and gave chase. The crowd went wild.

When he and Hermione had made their first incredible run through the cornfield, culminating in the best sex he'd ever had (well, up to that point), it had been pitch dark. Even though Severus had made a snide comment about not wanting to trip over and breaking something, he had in fact not given a toss about anything but snatching those poxy scarves away from Hermione and getting to the last one. Now, running by her side, he could feel that same sweet madness buzzing inside his head, that same wild desire to chase her down and take her like a rutting buck.

Of course, he couldn't. Not with the entire Wizarding world watching. They had already enacted the rite; now they were just acting out the symbolism of it.

Two broom-cams flew over their heads, tracking their every movement. Oh, they made it look good, feinting and teasing one another. Twice he almost caught her as she quickly doubled back and taunted him. Each time she slipped through his fingers with a scream of delight, the crowd roared, cheering them on: "Horned stag, run through the wood, the wood both new and old, Teach us of the ancient ways, your wisdom to unfold..."

Finally, she shouted, "Do you think this is enough?" She was panting. "My feet hurt!"

Severus laughed aloud. "Nothing to do with being caught on the WWW broom-cams, eh?"

She turned around and headed straight toward him. "It's more a case that sooner you catch me, the sooner we can be done and get back to shagging in the privacy of our own rooms."

"Good point." He grabbed her as she ran past, and swung her up into his arms while the crowd cheered.

"I yield, my priest!" she exclaimed, and he carried her into the clearing, presenting her to the cheering and bawdy crowd, who were making suggestive gestures and pulling their own women into their arms. He roared, "Cunning and art he did not lack, but aye her whistle would fetch him back!"

The crowd gave a victorious shout, cheering and stamping their feet. Witches in the stands were whistling...they were actually wolf whistling at him. Stunned, Severus looked out into the vast assemblage, trying to believe his eyes and ears. They were cheering him.

"They like us!" Hermione said, marveling. She waved and blew a kiss to the crowd, and they lapped it up like cream.

"I feel like I've just caught the Snitch," Severus quipped, as he carried Hermione around the perimeter of the circle.

"I'm starting to get a better appreciation of Quidditch," she replied, with a laugh. "Now, let's get this business over with so we can get drunk and dance around the fire."

"Impatient, my goddess?" he asked, and she kissed his cheek.

"For you? Yes, actually. Now, don't forget to make sure my dress is covering all my pertinent bits. And remember to wake me up," she added impishly, and he chuckled.

"You really are a bit of a sauce box, Granger. Remind me to give you a damn good seeing to when I get you back into my bed."

Severus waited until Minerva and the rest of the staff returned to the inner circle. He turned to Magister Honeyclutch, who conjured the formal, funeral bier. The noise of the crowd died off almost immediately, and Severus could almost feel their apprehension. He realised they were totally caught up in the ceremony, hanging on to every word, every symbolic gesture.

With great ceremony, Severus gently laid Hermione onto the platform. "Have a lovely nap, my Sleeping Beauty," he whispered.

She smiled at him, and whispered back, "I will. I want to be nice and rested for all that shagging, Cernunnos."

This time he did laugh. "Witch, you'll be the death of me." He raised his wand. Drawing a complicated symbol over her outstretched body, he whispered, "Soporbilatus."

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, and he waited, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. They had practiced before, of course, but it was a daunting thing, knowing nothing and no one would awaken her until he uttered the counterspell. He kissed her forehead and recited:

"They told me she'd been a prisoner, trapped in a mountain, taken by the Queen of Winter,

at last Summer's end. How could I live, when my Queen lay in Winter's frozen slumber?"

He backed away; there wasn't a sound to be heard. It was as if everything had disappeared. Only he and Hermione remained, and a crazy, sweet wish rose in his heart that they were the only ones left on earth. His sleeping beauty, awaiting him to be reborn, that summer could return. He could be content with that.

It didn't make walking away from her any easier. For some silly, stupid reason, tears welled in his eyes, and he allowed them to fall. It felt as if he was walking away from his heart. Don't be stupid, Severus. It's a bloody dumbshow.

He turned to the hushed congregation, and opened his arms. His voice was thick with tears, but he didn't care. "How can I live, when my Queen lies in Winter's frozen slumber?" He dropped his arms, and lowered his head. Grief racked his heart, and he let it go. Beltane, Hermione had explained the night before, was a time for beginning and ending relationships. He had understood she was trying to tell him that she was ready for him. He had not been able to admit that he was ready for her, and she had left his bed with her question unanswered.

Well, here is your answer, witch. Lily is gone; she is nothing but my lost childhood. You, Hermione Crazymaker Granger, you...I want you in my future. I want you to be my future. Now if I can only find the juice to say those things to your face when you wake up.

Severus turned and walked away from the bier. It felt as if a little more of his grief dropped with each tear, until he felt light, and free, and suddenly he couldn't wait to wake her, take her in his arms, and tell her how he felt. Gods, he was turning into a Hufflepuff.

He backed into the darkness, and as he moved farther and farther from Hermione's still form, the Magister continued, his strong voice sounding sad and forlorn: "The Oak King is dead. He has died of his love for the Lady that the Earth may live. So has it been for year after year, since time began. But the Oak King, the God of the Waxing year, must live so the crops in the Earth can come forth.

"Kindle the Beltane fire! May the Oak King live again. May the Earth bring forth her fruits, may the animals bear their young, and the land be fruitful again!"

The drums began to beat in a slow, steady rhythm, and the Coven began to chant, "Kindle the Beltane fire... Kindle the Beltane fire... Kindle the Beltane fire..."

Wiping his eyes, Severus watched intently from the darkness just outside the circle. The spectators in the stands joined the Coven, droning the slow, insistent chant. He allowed himself to relax a little; it would be a few moments before his cue to return. He stretched his neck, and it creaked like an old man's. The crown was heavy; he'd probably need a muscle warming potion later.

As he waited, he felt the sudden, split-second disorientation again, only this time it was followed by a needle-sharp pain in his temple. The pinprick erupted in his head with a blinding white flash of agony. He tried to call a name, but his world went black...

Minerva chanted with the rest, feeling the growing excitement in the crowd. Folks, in the immortal words of that Muggle Al Something-or-other, you ain't seen nothing yet.

The crowd's chanting faltered as a slender figure entered the circle, walking purposefully toward the centre. An excited rush of sound filled the air as Harry Potter, in blood-red robes, reached the middle of the circle. He leaned over the recumbent figure on the bier, and kissed her forehead just as Severus had done.

He turned to the crowd, and with the charisma and confidence of a star Quidditch player and politician-in-the-making, he announced, "I am the Firebringer, the Living Phoenix. I am the keeper of the Fire that banishes the darkness. I am the Light that welcomes the return of the Oak King!"

"Light the Beltane fire... Light the Beltane fire..." the voices rose again, as if by their very words the deed would be done.

Harry faced the North, and sketched a jagged symbol in the air with his wand, exclaiming, "Exuro mi! A red-gold trail of fire hovered in the air, in the shape of the symbol. He turned doesil toward the East, and repeated the symbol and the incantation. He did this at all the points of the compass. Finally, he drew the symbol over his head until he was surrounded by all sides and above by this fiery sigil. Minerva's heart was pounding as the chant grew in volume and speed: "Light the Beltane fire! Light the Beltane fire!"

Suddenly, Harry shouted, "Incendaddo Beltane! Victusphenice! "

With a loud, booming, crackling sound, Harry's body burst into flame. The crowd gasped. Minerva felt Cornelius' hand on her shoulder. "See? What did I tell you? He's magnificent!" he crowed.

Harry opened his arms, and the fire opened around him, glowing like a thousand flames, as if he was encased in a suit of blazing armour. Then the fire pushed away from him, and encircled him, lighting up the sky. Inside this circle of intense heat, he stood, his arms raised, controlling the fire with his will.

"The fire will be him," Cornelius had explained when he suggested Harry Potter perform this part of the ritual. "This is great and powerful magic, hard to control and beautiful to behold. When the Oak King returns, he will deliver Harry from the flame and together they will awaken the goddess! Oh, it's a beautiful thing when it's done right! Of course, it's dangerous, but that's what gives the ceremony its spice!"

It had not been hard to convince Harry to do it. He was one of those completely typical adrenaline-junkie Aurors that loved this sort of madness. It was all Minerva could do not to dance a jig on the spot. All the secrets, all the security, all Harry's months of practice and endurance training had paid off in spades.

Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding world, had become the incarnation of the Firebringer.

Minerva could see the broom-cams swooping around like mad, recording the moment for posterity. She stepped close to the fire, which was hotter than any bonfire she had ever felt, and held up her hands for quiet. As young and strong as he was, even Harry's magic couldn't last long. The spell was a magical syphon, and it was draining him faster than she wanted to let on.

She raised her hands and cried out, "The Firebringer has purified us from the ashes of the old darkness. Come back to us, Oak King, that the land may be fruitful! Renew your consort and bring life back to your people in the new light!"

The silence stretched out. Nothing.

Nothing.

She glanced outside the circle, where she knew Severus was waiting for his cue, but in the glare of the blaze she couldn't see him. Within, she could see Harry, breathing hard, his face strained with the effort to keep the flame in control.

Raising her arms again, Minerva shouted, "Come back to us, Oak King, that the land..."

From the clearing, Severus strode into the circle, his face stamped with fury and something she could not define. When he reached her, he grabbed her arm and threw her aside like a rag doll. "Severus?" she cried, horrified at the unholy rage contorting his face. "What are you..."

He laughed then, an ugly, obscene sound. In a strange, unnatural voice, he announced, "The Oak King is back, and he has come to take what is rightfully his!" With another hideous laugh, he aimed his wand straight at the heart of Harry Potter, and shouted, "MORSMORDRE!"

There was a hideous noise, like a great "FLOOMP!" A vacuum of air sucked all the air from the circle, and Harry's head snapped back as if struck by an invisible hand, knocking him unconscious. The red flame imploded into a noxious green, and from the green flames rose the awful Dark Mark. It ascended into the sky, hovering over the Pitch like malignant, poisonous gas.

People in the stands began to scream, and some ran in panic. "Everyone, please sit down!" cried the placating, amplified voice of Magister Honeyclutch. "It's all part of the show!"

Severus turned to him. "Oh, I'll give you a show, old man!"

Minerva recoiled at the hideous, warped joy on Severus face. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she shouted. He turned on her, wand out. "And I'll thank you to put that away," she warned.

Severus' Sonorus-enhanced voice bellowed over the pitch. "You stupid hag! You must have been mad to think I would squander this opportunity to bring about the return of the Dark Lord!"