“What is it Lady? Is it your time?” Theodora was instantly at her side, a sturdy arm around the Head Priestess’ waist.
Kalliope took several deep, steadying breaths as the pain faded away, “soon,” she replied, managing a small smile of reassurance for the priestesses and novices who had crowed around her.
“Perhaps we should head back to your room,” Theodora suggested, “we don’t want to take any chances.”
“I am fine, I think it will be better if I stay on my feet for as long as possible,” Kalliope tried to brush aside the concerned women. However, by the time the second contraction hit she was more than ready to go back to her room.
Nimue watched as the priestesses led Kalliope away. It didn’t take her long to decide where she was going. She turned and practically flew down the path towards the beach where the men were gathered. “Remus!” Several pairs of hands came out to catch her as she broke into the middle of crowd.
“Easy there girl,” Aias steadied her with a brotherly arm around her waist, “tell us what is wrong that has gotten you all riled up, one would think Dionysus had gotten hold of you.”
Priapos, the leader of the band of satyrs, was there as well, “tell us little maenad, are the warriors needed?”
Nimue breathed a sigh of relief as Remus made his way towards her, “its Kalliope…” she didn’t have to go any farther, Remus was already sprinting up the path towards the temple complex.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are there any questions over your reading assignment for today?” Harry asked his class of seventh years. He raised his eyebrows when the entire class just stared back at him silently. Considering the subject matter they were supposed to have covered he was surprised at the lack of vocalization coming from his seventh years. “Well?” he saw the uncertain expressions on their faces.
Serena tentatively raised her hand in the air, seeing that no one else was going to say what they were all thinking.
“Serena,” Harry acknowledged her, thankful that he wasn’t going to have to start picking on people.
“Professor… you see…” she looked around for support, “we were discussing this before class, and it just doesn’t seem like there’s any clear definition for ‘dark’ magic. Except for the unforgivables… who decides what is dark magic?”
“The Death Eaters decide,” a Hufflepuff suggested, “because if they use it…”
“A Death Eater can use Wingardium Leviosa just as well as you can,” Dierna snapped at him, “just because a Death Eater uses a spell doesn’t mean it should be classified as ‘dark’ or made illegal. The Ministry,” the words had the distinct taste of venom, “in all its blazing glory, decides.”
A heated debate instantly broke out. The students took sides as their voices increased in volume, except for the Slytherins. They noticeably maintained a stony silence.
“I don’t think any of us can deny that the vast majority of spells and other magic that have been outlawed by the Ministry have been practiced by Death Eaters,” a Ravenclaw voice cut above the rest, “but what is the mindset of the Death Eaters that they use magic like that?” There was instant silence, “what makes a Death Eater?” he quietly concluded.
Although Harry had stayed out of the debate, content to watch his students work out a problem on their own, he found that every single pair of eyes were now glued on him. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he confessed.
“There’s someone who does,” a Hufflepuff muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?” Serena half rose out of her chair to turn on the speaker, her teeth barred, “well? Do you want to repeat it?”
The Hufflepuff sank back in his chair, mouth firmly snapped shut. He didn’t dare open it again.
“Sit down Serena,” Harry said quietly, but firmly. He didn’t doubt that the Snape twins would start a fight, either physical or magical in nature, if this conversation tended too far into the personal. “Like I said, I don’t know why someone would choose to become a Death Eater, all I, or anyone else who has not made that decision, can do is theorize. It’s much the same with determining what makes magic “dark”. There are no clear answers.”
“But you can’t ban spells just because they can be used with malicious intent,” Mark said slowly, the first Slytherin to enter into the conversation. “And the Ministry can’t monitor the intent someone uses to cast a particular spell.”
“What about spells that are classified as dark magic,” Dierna looked up at Harry, he eyes wide as her question formed, “can they be justified? What if it’s a case of life or death? What,” she looked around at her classmates, “if they are the spells that may save us from the Death Eaters?”
“I think I’m going to have to do a bit of research myself so that we can continue this discussion next time,” Harry decided. He also had plans to that involved a certain Potions Master… if he survived the questioning process.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Remus paced back and forth in front of the temple with steadily increasing irritation. “Men aren’t allowed in…” he mumbled to himself, “it’s my child too, I have every right to…” he stopped, straining to hear something… anything.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Nimue asked as she wandered over. After she had sent Remus running up the hill she had taken her time in coming back up. As much trouble as her own mother had had with bearing children the whole process made her nervous.
“No! I think they’ve gone and put some sort of silencing spells around the room as well,” he sighed and slumped down onto a bench, head buried in his hands. “Wait a minute…” he looked up at Nimue. “I may not be allowed in, but you… they can’t keep a woman out.”
“I’m not sure if they really count me as a woman though…” Nimue tried to protest, tacking several small steps backward.
“You get in there right now and don’t come back without some news,” Remus pointed at the door to the small apartment that he kept with Kalliope, “now!”
Nimue sighed, but did as she was told. She was used to following orders, and as nervous as Remus was she figured it was the least she could do. Squaring her shoulders she boldly pushed her way through the door into the head priestess’ room. Not ten seconds later she was right back out.
“A birthing chamber is no place for a maiden,” Theodora scolded as she drove Nimue back out into the courtyard, one hand firmly gripping the girl’s ear, the other she applied to the girl’s backside to propel her forward. “Stay out here where you belong!”
“You’d think I was four, not fourteen the way I get treated sometimes,” Nimue muttered. “Don’t ask for any more favors,” she scowled at Remus.
“Sorry. Did you happen to see if anything…”
“No.” Nimue dropped down on the bench next to Remus. They sat there until the sun dropped low in the sky without hearing any news.
“Remus…” Theodora finally came out into the courtyard, her hair still tied back and sleeves rolled up.
Remus jumped to his feet, “well?!” He could feel his heart pounding, Theodora didn’t look as happy as he would like. It gave him the sinking feeling that something had gone wrong.
Theodora gave him a weak smile, “Kalliope is fine… we were just a little disappointed…” Remus was gone before she could finish.
“Kalliope,” it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.
“Remus…”
“The baby…”
“Come see your son. He’s perfect.”
Remus crossed the room in a daze and gazed down at Kalliope and the small blanket wrapped bundle in her arms.
“Sit down and hold him.”
Remus complied, taking his seat on the bed as gently as possible so as not to jar his wife and just as gently took the little bundle from her. He smiled down into the red squashed face. Kalliope was right, he was perfect.
“Remus?” Kalliope’s voice was concerned as she saw the tears on her husband’s face. She reached up to brush them away, “what is it?”
“I never thought I’d have a family, and now…” he wrapped one arm around Kalliope while he cradled their son in one arm. “I think he needs a name. Any suggestions?”
“I’ve put a little bit of thought into it…”
“I know you were hoping for a girl…”
“I wouldn’t trade our son, the son that you gave me, for a hundred girls all fit to follow me as high priestess,” Kalliope retorted. “Now then, I think he needs a name that represents his heritage.”
“Lukon?” Remus asked.
Kalliope took their son back from him and making sure the baby was safely in her arms pinched her husband soundly, “that is not funny.”
“Fine then, what do you have that’s better? Something Greek I’m assuming?”
“Angelos. I want his name to be Angelos John.”
“It’s perfect,” Remus didn’t care that there were tears in his eyes again. “Kalliope, I need to know… I know what your traditions are here concerning the raising of children…”
“That he would be mine until he was seven and then I would hand him over to you so that you could train him as a warrior,” Kalliope tried to imagine the tiny life cradled in her arms as a warrior. She couldn’t. She smiled as Remus reached over to brush at the little bit of black fuzz that was trying to be hair. “He is our child Remus, I want both of us to be there for him. I won’t let tradition keep you away from your son.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
