Scourge of the Heathen- Chapter 19 (Patreon)

AN: Casting-

Rowena- Anna Belik

“While all magic has its intricacies, potions undoubtedly require the most meticulous detail when put into application.” Rowena explained from the front of the room to a dozen attentive ears.

They were in the newest addition to the keep atop the hill. While spells and incantations could easily be taught out in the open air of the forest, potions required a more controlled environment. A drop of dew from the leaves of a tree can be the difference between perfection and catastrophe.

“A wrong movement in the incantation of a spell results in failure, more often than not.” Occasionally there could be more adverse reactions, as Rorik learned just the day before when attempting a transfiguration that briefly left him with a rat’s nose.

“But making a mistake with potions can cost you your life.” Salazar warned. True to his word, the wand-for-hire remained with them in the Highlands and had taken to teaching the children right beside Harry and Rowena, “Masters of the craft take great care when attempting to develop something new.”

“That’s why it’s important that you not only follow the instructions but understand why certain ingredients behave the way they do.” Setting the fire beneath her cauldron, not with her wand but with a rune inscribed into the table, she gave them the first instruction, “Now, we begin by adding water to the cauldron halfway to the top and bringing to a boil.”

As their students began working, some with far more interest than others, Salazar and Harry walked among them, checking their work. Despite Snape’s opinions, Harry wasn’t completely helpless at potions when he was a student and was still more than capable of helping them along. Behind Euan, he noticed, “A bit more water there.”

“Next, we use a mortar and pestle to pulverize our bezoar.”  Mairi was watching with rapt attention, which seemed to be the case anytime Rowena was involved, “And a bezoar is?”

Mairi piped up immediately, “A stone from the stomach of a goat, with natural anti-poison properties.”

“Exactly,” She finished breaking down the stone and set it aside, “which makes it a necessary ingredient in a cure for common poisons.”

“It also works ingested whole, right?” Tadc asked.

“It does, yes. It’s perfectly effective in that form as well.” Rowena smiled, “Why would we make the potion instead?”

This time Adela answered, “Because a single stone can counteract only one case of poison, a potion made from the stone produces many doses.”

“Two dozen to be exact, yes. Now with the water boiling, lower the heat to a simmer.” Reaching for a small pouch, she opened the string, “You all have your mixtures prepared, yes?”

They’d taken the kids foraging for a collection of herbs, commonly referred to as standard mixture by the time he went to Hogwarts, and had them prepare their own for the class. As she saw their nods, she continued, “Two pinches, but do not stir.”

“Careful there, Esla.” Harry said gently to the youngest among. them She wouldn’t even be old enough to attend Hogwarts, but here she is. “You want to bring that heat just a bit lower.” She just nodded touching the rune, just below the center, just as they’d been instructed, and watched as the bubbles within subsided to a gentle simmer.

“As the herbs start to release their aromatics we add the pulverized bezoar, stirring counterclockwise exactly twenty-seven times for best results. You’ll notice a distinct change in color from the current dull brown to a more vivid orange.”

“What happens if we stir more than that?” Culen asked.

“Or less?”  Aelwyn added.

“Too many times and the potion can become unstable, resulting in a mixture that will melt your cauldron when we add later ingredients.” Salazar explained, “Too few is much preferred as you get a less potent, but still viable form, of the potion.”

“Now, we raise the temperature again, letting the potion bubble until the color darkens to a near crimson. In the meantime, we’ll clean off our mortar and pestles and begin pulverizing your unicorn horn.” Each of their students were given a small section of a single unicorn horn, “The horn was willingly given by a herd that migrates through the Dark Forest each year. If the horn were forcibly taken, it would have disastrous repercussions for any potion it was used in.”

The unicorn horn was harder than the bezoar, and more than one of the students struggled  grinding it down to the necessary consistency. I suppose there was a reason we used to get the horn powdered by the apothecary already. With bit of help from Harry and Salazar though, they were able to get the necessary result.

As their potions started to change color, Rowena instructed them, “Now, kill the fire entirely and add your powdered unicorn horn, stirring clockwise twenty-seven times. The potion will turn lilac before we add the final ingredient.”

A few minutes later, she gave them the final step, “Now, take two mistle berries and squeeze their juices into the potion, stirring counterclockwise eleven times.” As her potion finished, she quickly ladled it into a vial and presented it to their pupils. It was a deep purple, “This is the result you’re looking for. If you’re lagging behind a little, take your time, and one of us will come round to help you along.”

Whether it was because they were too afraid of stirring too much, or because they simply miscounted, Goode, Donal and Aelwyn’s potions were significantly paler than they should’ve been but were still passable for use. Fortunately, no one made the far more consequential mistake of overdoing it, so there were no melted cauldrons.

One by one, they bottled their cauldron’s contents and took them up for inspection, each of them pleased when Rowena informed them of the quality of their efforts and that they’d put them in storage for use. Once they were all back to their stations, equipment cleaned and ready for use again, Rowena dismissed them, “Well done, everyone, that’ll be all for now.”

“But be ready to learn more in the afternoon,” Salazar stopped them before they could run off, “I’ll be giving a lesson in transfiguration after you’ve eaten.”

The three of them lingered behind. Rowena looked over the potions one more time, smiling fondly at one in particular, “Mairi’s potion could pass for mine.”

“Well, she’s rather fond of you, my dear.” Salazar drawled, leaning against one of the tables, “Is it any surprise that she tries to impress.”

“She’s sharp, that one. A real pleasure to teach.”

“That much is undoubtedly true,” he agreed, “but I prefer someone like Tadc. Bright in his own way, but there’s cunning there as well. Just the other day he asked me if there were other uses to the levitation than mere utility. I appreciated his unconventional thinking.”

Harry just listened, hearing the very beginning of what would lead to the eventual creation of the Hogwarts Houses. Rowena values wit above all else. Salzar cunning and ambition. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. House pride, while understandable, and creating, at least in some cases, healthy competition, also lead to bitter rivalries that often got out of hand. And the House Slytherin of my time and Tom’s served as a breeding ground for pureblood ideology.

“I have to agree with you both.” Harry interjected, “At least to some extent.” At their inquisitive looks he expanded, “Mairi’s undoubtedly bright, but she’s also brave. Two days ago, she dived into the lake to smack away the grindylows when Adela went too deep while doing the washing. And Tadc… he’s unflinchingly loyal to his friends.”

The kids didn’t always get along, Rorik and Caerwyn had a tendency to butt heads, and Tadc was closer with the former… and had no qualms about defending his friend when necessary.

“And your point?” Salazar asked.

“Most people are far more complex than a single trait that you put value on. They’d be rather dull if they weren’t. That’s to say nothing of the fact that most of them are still children and have plenty of time to grow and change.”

Rowena’s blue eyes watched his face closely, and he just gave her a small smile, “True, though a sharp mind only dulls when not properly stimulated and challenged.”

Salazar hummed, “On that, we’re most certainly agreed. We are rather fortunate not to have any true dullards amongst our pupils.” It was true. Some of them thrived on certain subjects where others didn’t but none of them were poor students. He suspected it was at least partially thanks to the circumstances of how they found them. Magic is a tool. A tool that can help ensure their safety from those who’d seek to abuse them. And they all mean to ensure they’re never anyone’s captive again.

Pushing off the desk, Salazar clapped, “Now, not to change the subject, but has anyone seen Heiddi?” The eldest of their pupils hadn’t arrived for the lesson, something that was becoming increasingly common in recent weeks. They’d seen her in the morning, when everyone broke their fast, but not since then.

Hiding her amusement behind a cough, Rowena replied, “I can’t say for sure, but I can probably guess where she’s gone.”

“To Ragnall, on Mann.” Harry supplied at Salazar’s confused look. It was obvious that the girl was taken with the jarl, and given her age, they were in no position to impose their thoughts on the matter.

“Ah,” He snickered, “I won’t pry farther then.”

As if the discussion had summoned her up, the door opened and in stepped the Saxon girl, not hurried or frantic, but clearly determined. As she approached, Harry asked, “Heiddi, what brings you back so soon?”

“I have lessons to attend, don’t I?” She replied cheekily.

“That didn’t stop you from missing the morning.” Rowena pointed out.

She scoffed, “I’m a poor hand at potions. The priests made that clear enough. I have scars on my knuckles to prove it.” None of them were going to force the issue, she was old enough to decide what magic she wished to learn.

“But that’s not why you’ve returned, is it?” Salazar asked.

“No, it’s not.” She turned to Harry and Rowena, “Ragnall asks you to visit Mann at your earliest convenience. There’s a matter that he wishes to discuss with you.”

“Do you have any idea what?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but it’s not for me to say.”

As they shared a look, Salazar told them, “Go, both of you, I’m more than capable of managing the lot of them while you’re away.”

“I trust Harry to be our eyes and our ears,” Rowena responded, “No need to deprive our students of both of us.”

“If it even takes that long.” He turned to Heiddi, “Will it take long?”

She scrunched her face in thought, “Possibly, hard to say.”

“Oh, just go.” Rowena pushed at his shoulder, “If you’re back quickly, it just means you’ll have time to tell me what you discussed before we start their next lesson.”

With no reason to argue, he kissed her on the cheek before he headed toward the door, “Alright… I’ll be back.”

As he stepped into the warm, late-spring air, he disillusioned himself before apparating away. No need to frighten anyone with my sudden appearance. He arrived just behind Ragnall’s long hall and found himself alone.

Removing his own spell, he made his way around the front. As he neared the doors one of the sword warriors greeted him, “Lord… the jarl is expecting you.”

He’d given up correcting people about his title. He’d earned their respect with blood on the battlefield, and the only way to lose it was to shame himself, “Best not to keep him waiting then.”

The guard opened the door to let Harry through. There were men in the hall, drinking and eating their afternoon meal. At the head of the room, Ragnall sat in a high seat, tapping the arm of the chair, seemingly lost in thought.

Noticing his arrival, he stood from his seat. In his hand, he held a letter. The jarl opened his arms in greeting, “Thank you for your quick arrival. There are matters I’d discuss with you in private. Follow me.” Much like Aengus, and despite their young age, leading came naturally to the young Norsemen.

Together they made their way back through the long house, to Ragnall’s private rooms, where no one could overhear them. He gestured toward a seat in the corner, “Please sit.”

Taking the offer, Harry crossed his legs and asked, “So, what is this about? Heiddi wouldn’t say.”

The corner of his lips ticked up, “Because I asked her not to. There’s very little that could be done to force that woman to break confidence, whether on my behalf or yours.” He filled two glasses with mead and offered one to Harry, “You’ve been in the Highlands since Aengus’s crowning. What have you heard of the wider world?”

In the months since their victory, subsequent quarrel with the Wizard’s Council, and conversation with Freyja, they kept themselves informed of things, “Aengus subdued St. Andrews and they’ve recognized his dominion over Alba.” The priests that once served Bishop Cellach fled to Mercia, or Wessex, or across the sea to Frankia.

Ragnall nodded, “But do you remember what I said at the feast after his coronation?”

“That you were more concerned with the swords of Strathclyde than the priests of St. Andrews.”

“Yes,” He handed him the rolled-up parchment, “Dyfnwal, King of Strathclyde, is Causantin’s cousin, though distantly through his grandfather Cinaed. According to my own cousin in Jorvik, he means to seek retribution for Causantin’s defeat.”

“How do you know this?”

“Every lord has their spies, my friend.” He snickered, “You are likely the sole exception, though that is merely because you’ve yet to accept what you are.”

Ignoring the man’s counsel, as they had more pressing matters to focus on, he reasoned, “It’s more likely he wants the throne for himself, and all that goes along with it.” Harry rubbed his temple as he thought “And seeing as Aengus is young, he thinks there’s opportunity there.”

“There are more whispers, though,” He gestured to the parchment, “Read it.”

Scanning the words, he frowned, “Whispers in Mercia and Wessex?”

“More than whispers if rumors are believed.” Ragnall didn’t sound pleased, “Every day, there are more priests whispering about the rising wave of the pagan in the north.”

Harry handed the parchment back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. There was a part of him that couldn’t help but suspect this surge in propaganda was a result of his confrontation with Abbott Eadgar, “And are they listening? Do Aethelflaed and Edward intend to heed these warnings?”

“They are devout defenders of their faith, just as their father… but they don’t allow the whispering of priests decide matters of their kingdoms without reason to bolster the decision.” Whatever else Ragnall thought of them, it was obvious he respected the pair of rulers, “Though, if the fervor of their people becomes great enough, they may have no other choice.”

“Thankfully, most men whether pagan or Christian don’t want war. They want full bellies and a warm bed.” There were exceptions, true warriors who thrived on blood and steel, but no army was made of those men alone. He tapped his finger on his thigh, “It’s more likely that Mercia will aid Dyfnwal than, Wessex, yes?”

“Yes, but they would need to cross through Northumbria to do it.”

“Your cousin has terms with them, doesn’t he?”

“Peace has been made and broken dozens of times on both sides since Danes first arrived on Lindisfarne.” Ragnall gave him a thin smile, “After the success in Scotia, my cousin would join with us if needed.”

“You don’t sound as though you think it’s needed.” Harry could hear it in his voice. There was some other idea brewing in his head.

“From everything I’ve gathered, Dyfnwal doesn’t have strong support amongst the ealdorman for this war he envisions. There are a few cocksure fools who support him, but the bulk see it as foolish. After Causantin’s sound defeat, they believe that Aengus will once more be able to call upon the likes of myself, Jarl Ansbjorn, Jarl Thorfinn and you.” His spies had done thorough work, “They don’t believe it’s a war they could win without the full support of the southern kingdoms, and they know that Sigtryggr’s presence at Jorvik could leave them isolated from reinforcements.”

“They are men without a taste for war but that might be forced into one because of their king.”

“Precisely!” Even when raised, there was a softness to Ragnall’s voice, “Were Dyfnwal removed from the picture, the threat of war would die with him. Should his son continue to push for war, his ealdormen would have a far easier time removing him without consequence as he has no son of his own to rally his supporters.”

“Quite the favorable outcome from just the death of one man.” The same was true many times throughout history, but it was rare the means and resolve were there to see it through, “And you brought this idea of yours to me because…”

“Because while I don’t fully understand the nature of your abilities, I know you, or Rowena, are far better equipped for the task than anyone else I know.” He appreciated the blunt honesty.

“And should he have magicals of his own, capable of defending him and stopping me?” Harry asked. He believed, with near certainty, that the likes of Edward and Aethelflaed received protection of the magical variety from the zealots as a way to defend against such attempts.

“You can decide if those risks are worth taking.” He snorted out a laugh, “And should you fail, the only thing that changes is a battle with Strathclyde becomes inevitable rather than highly likely.”

He was right, the benefits outweighed the repercussions by his reckoning, “I’ll discuss it with Rowena and inform you of our decision.” But he didn’t make to stand, “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? Not long ago you mention other opportunities.”

“I have men working on my behalf, and I believe those opportunities will flourish soon. They’re not there yet though.” He paused and for the first time since he met the young jarl, he looked his age. He couldn’t quite meet his eye, as he admitted, “There is something else…”

“What else?”

Swallowing nervously, his hand drifted toward one of the bands on his arm, a testament to battles won and wealth gained, “I wished to discuss Heiddi with you…”

“What about her?” Harry forced down the urge to chuckle at his predicament. Somehow, he managed to maintain a stern demeanor as he stared intently at Ragnall.  

“We’ve spent a great deal of time together since we met at Varrich,” he found his voice then, meeting Harry’s eye with renewed confidence, “She’s brave, and bold, and brighter than any of the women I’ve met. I’m taken with her, and I’d make her my wife, if you’d allow it.”

It was a testament to his current time that such a young man was talking with such certainty and finality about an equally young woman, especially one that he’d only known for a few months. Not many sixteen-year-olds, even in the wizarding world, were discussing marriage. Though, my parents were only a few years older…  

“You mean to marry a Saxon?” He wouldn’t be the first Norsemen to do it and wouldn’t be the last.

Though there was a significant difference where Heiddi was concerned, “She’s pagan. She respects my gods, same as I do. There are Danes and Norse who can’t say the same.” He gave a half smile, “Does Aengus not intend to find himself a Norse girl of his own to help tie the people together? Why should I be any different?”

“Mann isn’t Scotia.” Harry pointed out.

“No, but she is the one that I want all the same.”

“And I’m not her father, to be giving her away.”  He was less than a decade older than her.

“No, but you care for her. You provide her with safety, shelter, and counsel. She’s made it clear that it’s you and Rowena that allowed her to flourish, which is what any good man does for a child.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his words, his mind no doubt drifting back to Gofraid. It seemed to Harry that Ragnall became the man he saw in front of him despite his father rather than because of him.  

“You’ve discussed this with her?” He received a nod in response, “And it’s what she wants as well?”

Ragnall swallowed, “That is what she says, yes.”

Harry had every intention of asking Heiddi just to be sure, but he was confident he wasn’t lying. With a nod, Harry stood, “Then, for what it’s worth, you have my blessing.”

“As her patron, if not her parent, we’ll have to discuss a bride price.” In his own time, there were traditional wizarding families that still practiced dowries, a price paid by the bride’s family to the groom’s. The bride price was effectively the opposite.

Either way, whether a practice of the time or not, Heiddi wasn’t something to be bartered and bought, “I want not one piece of gold from you, Ragnall. You’ll protect her in our stead… as often as she protects you, no doubt,” the jarl chuckled at that, only to stifle it at his final condition, “And you’ll do her no harm.”

“I wouldn’t.” He said firmly, not out of fear for what Harry, or even Heiddi, might do to him, but out of resolve, “Many times I saw my own father lay hands upon my mother. Not because of any quarrel or disrespect, but merely because the mood took him… And every time, it made me want to drive a knife through his heart. I refuse to be that man.” His jaw ticked at old memories.

Offering his hand, Ragnall grasped his forearm, “I knew that from the first moment I set eyes on you in this hall.” As he released him, Harry bid him farewell, “I’ll be off, my friend. Expect to hear word on our decision when next you see Heiddi.”

“I look forward to it.”

“For more than one reason, I’d guess.” Harry quipped. The last thing he saw before he popped away was Ragnall shaking his head in amusement.

Arriving back in the Highlands, from the look of things, they were just gathering the kids for their next lesson. He was unsurprised to find Rowena with Heiddi, down by the lake.

As he approached, he already knew the answer to his question before he asked it. He could see it in the eagerness in her eye, her cautious smile, “So, you spoke?”

“We did.” He stood beside the young woman, speaking softly, “It’s what you want?”

“Yes.” Heiddi affirmed without hesitation.

“Then I’m happy for you.”

“We’re happy for you.” Rowena corrected. At his raised eyebrow, she explained, “She told me of the personal matter Ragnall wished to discuss with you once you left.”

“Thank you.” She hugged them both before leaving to join the rest of their pupils.

Alone, Rowena asked, “What else did Ragnall wish to discuss?”

“The prospect of war and the way of averting it.”

Her eyebrows rose, “And, what needs to be done.”

“Simple.” he grinned, “We kill a king.”

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AN: Hope you enjoyed! After the first Wizard Council Arc finished up, it was time to set up another one.

If you haven't voted yet, head over to the poll as it's closing tomorrow. The winner will be the next thing I'm working on, followed by a new chapter of 'Unintended Consequences'

Until next time!