TITLE: Of Raven and Ram's Horn

AUTHOR: Scorpio

FANDOMS: Harry Potter, Hercules/Xena

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter series of books, the television shows Hercules:tLJ or Xena:WP, nor do I own any of the myths about the Gods of Olympus or the Tuatha Dé Danann. This is a work of love, not profit.

SUMMARY: Forces long unseen or felt begin to stir in response to a Prophecy set down by the Norns…and the fate of one young child is forever changed.

Of Raven and Ram's Horn

Prologue

Ares stood on the western battlements of his Citadel and watched the sun slowly sink down below the range of mountains that guarded his border. He brooded silently as he watched the end of another empty day in the midst of a series of millions of empty days.

A pinpoint of black moved against the backdrop of swirling magentas and golds. Without concern or curiosity, Ares' haunted dark eyes followed that moving slash of darkness as it shifted in the air currents and grew closer. Finally identifying it as a raven, the bird's feathers sparkled like tiny rainbows in the waning light.

Lifting one heavily muscled arm aloft, the raven wheeled in the air as it turned sharply on a wingtip and then coasted down to perch upon his curled fist. Pulling his fist with the raven perched on it closer to his body, Ares studied it with only the mildest curiosity.

"Well, little one." His smoky seductive voice was as dark as his eyes, "what brings you to my Citadel?"

The raven called out a single sharp note, but while his ears heard "cawww", his mind heard "The Morrigan".

Ares' eyes left the raven and drifted off to gaze toward the north and the lands that the goddess Morrigan once ruled before the Twilight had ripped the various Pantheons' ties with the mortal realm asunder. Sighing softly, Ares tilted his head to regard the raven once more.

"Well, little messenger, what does your mistress wish of me?"

Once again his ears heard the sounds of a simple raven "cawww caawwww", but his godly mind heard the words, "blood and water, bound in silver".

It was a simple enough spell and one he had used often to communicate with his own family that was trapped in Olympus. A silver bowl filled with water for scrying, a drop of godly blood to provide enough power to breach the barriers between the mortal and godly realms and a token of the being you wish to contact. He had tokens for nearly all the Olympians and the Asphodelians. Rarely did he communicate with those from other Pantheons.

Finally he nodded. "Very well, little messenger. We can contact your mistress from my study."

The raven merely tilted its head and was content to ride on Ares' fist. He wasn't surprised. Exhaustion radiated from the bird. It was a long journey from Ireland and an even longer one from the Land of Forever Young where Morrigan was living.

Turning on his heel, Ares strode across the battlements and over to a bit of wall that was really a door covered in an illusion. He went through the door without hesitation and strode through the stone corridors and down several stairs until he came to a heavy oak door bound in iron. It swung open at his approach and he walked through it.

His study was a large room with a huge fireplace on one side with two chairs and a small table facing it. On the other side was a heavy oak desk with floor to ceiling cabinets behind it. The remaining walls were lined with bookshelves and pigeonholes. A few paintings and tapestries interspersed with sharp weapons decorated the walls.

The overall atmosphere was one of wealth and strength. It was dark and warm and masculine. It was also obvious that this was a room that was used for its intended purpose; its master did not use it as a showroom.

Ares didn't hesitate to walk over to his desk. A quick glance at the papers and books strewn over its surface had them leap up into the air, shuffle themselves into some sort of order and then float across the room to settle delicately on top of a nearby bookshelf.

His work surface clear, Ares opened one of the glass fronted cabinet doors and gazed among his possessions. Directly in front was a beautifully styled and delicately decorated silver bowl. It had been crafted thousands of years ago by his brother Hephaestus; a priceless artifact of beauty and function. Now, it was his only link to his family trapped upon Olympus by the Twilight.

Behind the bowl were several dozen tokens, each linked to a different godly being. Each token was carefully sheltered and protected in individual boxes and cases. A long slim box contained a wing feather from his son Cupid and another smaller slim box contained a wing feather from his grandson Bliss. Another small box held a blonde lock of hair bound in pink ribbon that he had shorn from Aphrodite's fancy hairdo one night.

Behind those three there were more tokens. Some were weapons, or bits of clothing, or an object, or a lock of hair. Each was a priceless treasure that Ares would gleefully commit mass genocide to protect.

Ares took out the silver bowl and turned to set it in the center of his desk.

"I hope you have a token from your mistress little messenger, for I have none."

"cawww" was the reply even as his mind heard "a feather".

"Very well."

Ares waved a hand over the bowl and it dutifully filled with water. The raven hopped from his fist down to the desk and tilted its head to the side watching. As soon as the water level reached its zenith, the bird twisted its head back and pulled a feather loose that had been tucked in amongst its own. Despite also being a rainbow kissed raven feather, Ares could instantly tell that this one was different. It radiated power on a godly level and must have come from Morrigan's own raven form.

Ares pulled a small sharp dagger from the air and nodded to the raven. Instantly complying, the bird twisted its head back around and neatly dropped the godly feather into the very center of the bowl. It floated lazily for a brief moment and then sunk down to rest upon the silver bottom.

Poking a fingertip with his dagger, Ares reached out and let one, two, three drops of bright red blood drop into the bowl over the feather. The blood and water swirled around and around clockwise until it was thoroughly mixed. Then the liquid pulsed twice with glowing power before it settled down into a pale glow with the image of Morrigan shining from its surface.

"Hail Ares," Morrigan's sultry voice echoed through the room, "Lost Son of Olympus."

Ares grimaced in distaste at that title. Thousands of years ago, just before the Twilight, he'd been involved in a huge dispute that ended with the death of Zeus. Hera had provided a false prophecy that had led Zeus to believe that his death would come at the hands of Ares granddaughter. Knowing the prophecy false, he'd sided with his daughter Xena and tried to protect his unborn granddaughter Livia. It was Hercules himself that had murdered their father. Yet, for his participation, Athena had stripped him of his godhood and bade him to live as a mortal for twenty years before ascending to Olympus again.

Thankfully, he'd still had family members loyal to him and his cause for they had helped him to reach the last remaining bit of ambrosia stored in the mortal world. That had made him an immortal and a god again, but without his sword he was a god without a sphere of influence. He merely had to wait for his ban from Olympus to be over and then he could reclaim his sword and title God of War. However, that was not to be as the Twilight hit long before his banishment was over and the portals between the godly realms and the mortal world were closed forever.

"Hail Morrigan," Ares replied in dark tones, "Danann Goddess of War and Battle."

There was a long pause during which Ares and Morrigan gazed at each other through the scrying portal. Finally Morrigan nodded and then sighed sadly.

"I would ask a boon of thee, Olympian."

"Oh?"

One of Ares' eyebrows went up in mild surprise. He and Morrigan had never been best of friends, confidants, or allies. Their past relationship could best be described as guarded, mutual respect for the other's power and skill. That was all.

"As you know well, none of the Tuatha Dé Danann were upon the mortal realm when the Twilight hit. All of us are trapped beyond the reach of those who were once our beloved followers."

Ares nodded. He had once, after the Twilight first hit, conceived the idea that all those godly beings that were trapped in the mortal realm should come together and form their own Pantheon in an effort to rule and guide the mortals, but that was impossible. There simply wasn't enough gods trapped outside of the godly realms. Olympus had the most of all; himself, Apollo, and Pan. There was also the Asphodelian Hecate who would have gladly helped.

Instead, they had followed Apollo's plan of carefully separating the normal mortals from those that had been touched by magic and the gods. It had been sadly necessary. With the loss of the gods, the mortals had been hysterical with grief and fear and they turned on those that were different than them.

It had taken the four divine beings centuries to complete their work. They had started in Greece and then moved onto Rome. From there they had moved through the lands that the Romans had conquered. Then they had moved east. And everywhere they went, they set wards and protections around hidden vales, cave systems, and tracts of forest. Wards that would protect magical and semi-divine humans and creatures from their completely normal and muggle counterparts.

"Recently, a child was born of a mortal daughter of mine. She hailed from a lost ancient bloodline of priestesses that have sworn themselves unto my cause. This daughter was the first in many generations to have that power blossom within her. She returned to the world of magic and power only to wed her renewed bloodline with that of another ancient bloodline, one of warriors also in my service."

Ares barely restrained from rolling his eyes. "I'm sure this is fascinating and I am happy for you…but what does this have to do with me?"

A look of dark anger flitted across Morrigan's face and Ares could see her power rolling around her in agitation.

"It's the child of my priestess and warrior. He has been orphaned by the madman that wished to challenge you, Ares of Olympus."

Ares smirked darkly.

Tom Riddle, who called himself Lord Voldemort, was the last scion of an ancient line that had destroyed itself with the ignorance and inherited insanity of its own members. Riddle had foolishly delved into the forbidden dark arts and somehow found a way to wrest himself from the mortal coil without dying. Either not knowing or not caring what he was doing, he'd corrupted an already foul ritual and cleaved his own shaky sanity apart with his cursed existence; an offence to all true immortals.

Several years later, after going far further into the dark then is ever advised, Riddle had come upon the ancient legends of Ares' own existence. He believed that if he bested Ares in combat that he would somehow become a god and that he could rule the world. When Riddle had managed to make his way partway across the Hidden Mountains, Ares had gone to confront the upstart only to find himself being challenged. He hadn't laughed that hard in centuries and had simply banished the little wizard back to England and thought of him no more.

"Ahhh…Riddle. What is that idiot up to now?"

Morrigan grit her teeth.

"After you banished him from your Citadel and returned him to England, the madman began a campaign to gather followers and demanded they worship him unto a god."

"Oh?" Ares' voice was dark with irritation. "I thought I told him he would never be a god and to put aside such…desires."

"Another sin upon his head to disobey the direct commands of a god, then. He called his priests Death Eaters and made war upon the magical beings of Britannia. My warrior and priestess were members of a militant coven that opposed that madman and his supposed rule." A flicker of sadness and grief washed over her features. "It was all for naught as he had all but won."

Ares narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Is that so? Maybe I should visit the Isle…it's been nearly a thousand years since my last stay."

Morrigan shook her head.

"Nay. The beast has been rendered noncorporeal and his armies scattered."

"How did that come about?"

"The child. The son of my priestess and warrior. His spirit was touched by the Norns 'ere his birth. When the madman turned his death magics on the babe, the spell was flung back into the beast's face and dissolved his physical body to ash."

Ares snorted, a dark amusement momentarily dancing in his eyes.

"Is it over then?"

"Nay. The madman shall eventually regain that which he lost and his anger shall fall upon the child without mercy or remorse. The Norns have decreed that it shall be this child who shall either fall to the pits or rid the world of the madman who would usurp your throne, Ares. This child, descendant of my children, shall be the one to gather the Deathly Hallows and defend your name and rule."

Ares clenched his jaws as he considered all this. He was regretting being so merciful when Riddle first confronted him. Thousands of years ago, he would have blasted the fool back to his component parts and been done with it. But that had been at the height of his power and with the Sword of War in his hands.

He had, since the last magical enclave had been blessed with his wards, lived separately from the world in a haze of apathetic brooding or blackest depression due to grief from the losses suffered by the Twilight. Riddle's ridiculous statement of impending godhood had been a source of dark mirth in an otherwise endless existence of torment and woe. Sparing his life had been a merciful boon granted in thanks for that brief bout of humor.

Ares would know better than to be so generous in the future.

"And the boon you would ask of me, Morrigan?"

"The child. Take him to your Citadel, Ares. Raise him to be a warrior, strong and true. Teach him that which he needs to know in order to fulfill his destiny."

"Does the child not have those to raise and tutor him?"

A pained look flickered over Morrigan's face for a brief instant.

"The leader that his parents followed has taken the orphaned babe to the sister of my priestess. She has not the power nor the temperament to be a priestess. In fact, she has disowned her own sister and turned from my teachings completely. She has had the child in her care for a fortnight and has heaped nothing but scorn and anger on the babe. In her care, the child would be hard pressed to survive, let alone fulfill his destiny."

Ares considered her words. If he left the child where he was, then it was most likely that the destruction of Riddle would fall to him. And after having his mercy spit back at him that was a great temptation. However, if he raised this child and taught him as Morrigan wished, then he would be able to fulfill his destiny. Which included becoming the true master of the Deathly Hallows.

Ares knew of these artifacts for they were of godly origin. The Eldar Wand was made from an eldar tree bathed in the Morrigan's own blood and held one of her raven feathers as its core. The Cloak of Invisibility was woven from the hair of the goddess Brigid and dyed with the blood of the god Ogma. Then there was the Resurrection Stone which was taken directly from the crown of the god Cernunnos. Each of these artifacts was a power in its own right, but together they would grant their master immortality.

Immortality. True immortality, not the false immortality that the madman Riddle had wrested with dark magic.

Could this child be someone that he could spend the endless eternity with?

"I shall take the child and make him my apprentice."

Morrigan smiled.

"Until the day he masters all three Hallows. On that day, I shall take him as my Consort."

Her smiled faded into one of suspicion.

"Why?"

Dark anger and pain filled his eyes and he snarled, "You would ask that? You who are surrounded by family and loved ones? I am alone!"

And to his horror Morrigan's features softened into one of deep sympathy.

"Do not pity me Raven! Apollo, Hecate, and Pan share this fate. Save your pity for Pan if any one of us. His existence is a torment to him since the destruction of the satyrs and nymphs."

And it was true. Apollo spent much of his time simply keeping the mad god from visiting destruction upon humans as he blamed them for the loss of his chosen people. Hecate had disappeared into the Americas centuries ago and had yet to reemerge. He was, utterly, alone.

"Granting this child the Hallows may be what is needed for him to destroy the madman Riddle, but he won't thank you for it. Eternity alone watching the mortals die one by one is a…terrible fate. It matters not if he comes to love me or hate me, my continued presence in his life throughout the endless millennia will become his most cherished possession."

After a long moment, Morrigan bowed her head in silent agreement.

"It shall be as you say then, Ares of Olympus. When the last Hallow recognizes him as its true master he shall be blessed as a son of Tuatha Dé Danann and be wed to you as your Concert for eternity."

Ares' expression settled into one of contentment and mild curiosity.

"My future Consort, where is he?"

"His name is Harry James Potter and he is currently in his aunt's home in Surrey England. They live in a village called Little Whining and are at #4 Privet Drive."

"I will retrieve him at midnight."