Chapter 38

Nearly two weeks had passed since Harry's return from the fae realm, and Slytherin Castle had slowly begun to settle down again. Harry was still confined mostly to bed, though he had been allowed to sit propped against pillows for short periods so long as he did not attempt anything "Potter-like," according to the senior healer. Harry had objected to the wording while actually pouting, which elicited a slight laugh from the Potion master.

The bruising had faded to ugly yellows and greens across his ribs and throat. Since the healers were treating him the Muggle way due to possible unknown raw magic interference, the healing process was expected to take several more weeks. Three at best. Six if Harry decided to be an idiot.

Severus had informed him that if he chose the latter, he would be personally tied to the bed. Harry had looked far too interested in that prospect. The senior healer had immediately added 'no unnecessary excitement' to the list of restrictions.

Down in the western gardens, Neville was cultivating a new generation of chomping cabbages. The first batch had proven so effective in discouraging unruly nobles that Neville had been asked, with complete seriousness, whether he could produce a smaller indoor variety suitable for council meetings. He had said he would try. This had thus resulted in him kneeling beside the castle pond that morning with his sleeves rolled up, a notebook open, and half a dozen young cabbages snapping lazily at the air.

"Now," Neville said gently to the nearest plant, "We do not bite allies. We bite people threatening the Crown, people trampling flower beds, understood?"

He was about to write something down when water from the pond shot upward in a column, soaking Neville from head to toe and sending three cabbages into defensive snapping fits. Neville yelped and looked to see a woman rising from the pond.

Neville stared, then he screamed while fumbling for his wand.

"Hello, plant boy," she greeted. "I am Nimue. I don't believe we have met." Neville blinked. He knew that name from when Harry had mentioned her offhandedly in the past.

"Nimue?"

"Unless you know another impossibly beautiful water fae who exits ponds with style," she quipped.

"I should take you to Harry," Neville mumbled while still stunned.

By the time Neville brought Nimue to the King's tower, several portraits were already whispering with gossip. They entered, and Harry, who propped up against a mountain of pillows, asked, "Nimue?"

She swept into the room and stopped at the foot of the bed, and looked him over. "You look better," she stated.

"And you look different." Harry arched a brow in response.

Nimue waved one hand. "Yeah, well. Stuff happened."

"What happened with Oberon?"

"Lovely weather for mortal Britain." Nimue immediately looked toward the window.

"Nimue."

"I should discuss the pond with Neville. Terrible algae balance,"

"Nimue," Harry repeated.

She sighed and then threw herself into the chair beside the bed. "Fine. Since you are so determined to ruin my mysterious entrance."

"Honestly, I've seen better deflection techniques from first-year Hufflepuffs," Severus grumbled while crossing his arms.

"You married a delightful menace," Nimue stated while looking at Harry.

"I know," Harry said faintly.

Nimue's expression changed. "It was ugly," she began.

Oberon fought with both frustration nd desperation. At first, Nimue enjoyed herself. It was like old times, kicking his butt.

He came at her with fire in both hands, and she answered with water pulled from the air, the roots, the stone, from every hidden vein beneath Hephaera's borderlands. Steam burst between them. His fire clashed against her water, and she reformed the steam into more ammunition.

"You are weaker than you pretend!" Oberon snarled while sending a whip of flame toward her face. Nimue ducked, spun, closed the distance, and drove her elbow into his ribs.

"And yet here you are, getting beaten by little 'ole me."

"You were always hiding behind Thalassaine's shadow!" He taunted. Nimue's smile faltered for the first time. Oberon saw it, and then he played dirty. The next burst of fire was not aimed at her. It was aimed at the trees and boulders surrounding her.

Nimue turned on instinct. Her water rose to shield her, but Oberon was on her before the spell settled. His hand closed around her throat, and he slammed her into the black stone hard enough to crack it.

Pain burst white behind her eyes.

"Sentimental," he hissed. "That has always been your flaw, Nimue. You treat these mortals as if they matter."

Nimue clawed at his wrists, but his grip tightened.

"I know where the crown is," Oberon snarled. "You dare hide it in my mother's palace. You knew why I wanted it. You let me chase ghosts for centuries! You kept my future from me!"

Nimue tried to laugh, but it came out choked.

Oberon smiled. "There," he whispered. "Not so clever now, are you?"

Nimue could taste blood. Then she smiled. "Oh, Oberon," she rasped. "You really are an idiot."

Nimue brought both knees up and kicked him squarely in the chest while his eyes had narrowed at her retort. Oberon flew backward, hit the ground, and rolled. Nimue dropped to one knee, coughing with one hand pressed to her bruised throat. Then she reached for the long necklace that was partially hidden in her bodice and yanked it off to enlarge it.

The crown came into her hand. It was a beautiful piece. Golden-hued and carved like coral with several obsidian stones inlaid.

Oberon froze, then his face changed. "No," he breathed. In disbelief.

Nimue stared at the crown and muttered, "Freaking Fate,"

The crown pulsed in her hands. Somewhere very far away in the Upper realms, Fate sported that infuriating little smile of hers.

"Fine. But if this comes with paperwork, I am blaming Morty." Nimue sighed. Then she placed the crown on her head.

The world seemed to stop as the water beneath the earth answered. Power rose through Nimue. It filled her bones, her blood, her breath. Her wings snapped open behind her, and then they started to change. She had six wing segments, denoting her power and rank. Light tore through them, until eight segmented wings unfurled behind her while Oberon stared in horror.

"NOOOOO! THOSE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MINE!" He actually wailed.

She touched the crown once, as though confirming it was truly there. Then she looked at Oberon.

You deceived me."

"Of course I deceived you," she replied.

"You had it all along!"

"Yes."

"You let me search! You let me humiliate myself before the royal courts!"

"You did most of that without assistance, honestly."

Oberon screamed in frustration, but Nimue's demeanor was serious right now. "You kidnapped Harry. You tortured him. You left dead mortals behind you like discarded toys. You threatened my friends." Her wings spread wider as her eyes glowed blue. "And worst of all, you interrupted what had been a very pleasant few centuries of avoiding responsibility."

A wall of water rose behind her. Oberon took one step back.

Nimue tilted her head. "Run."

Harry stared.

Severus stared.

Neville stared.

Nimue leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, that is why I am late. Hephaera was quite cross with me."

"You saw Hephaera?" Harry asked.

"Well, I did accidentally launch her son through her gates, across her courtyard, and into one of her fountains."

"I'm sorry, what?" Severus asked suddenly.

"My attack sent Oberon through the outer gates, two guard towers, three nearby houses, and finally into the central courtyard of Hephaera's domain, where he landed in the fountain, which broke and fell on him."

Harry looked at her.

"Fine. The third house was intentional. It had ugly windows," she confessed. Harry made a pained sound halfway between a laugh and a groan upon hearing that.

"Right, so, where was I. Oh, right, Hephaera appeared." Nimue explained. "She arrived in full primordial flame mode, which was very dramatic. Lovely robe, though. Terrible temper. She looked at Oberon, looked at the broken gates, looked at me. Then she dragged Oberon over her knee and gave him a spanking right there in the public square."

"That sounds like Mother."

Everyone turned.

Magdalena, now back in her human form, stood there with Hermione beside her, both having clearly arrived in time to hear the end of the tale. Hermione's eyes were wide while her mother's expression was caught somewhere between horror and resignation.

Nimue brightened. "Mags!"

Magdalena entered slowly, "You accepted it," she said softly.

"Yes."

Nimue looked at Magdalena, "It chose me long ago. I was simply stubborn."

"You? Stubborn? Never. Who would have thought?" Magdalena deadpanned.

Hermione stared between them. "I feel as though I need, possibly, a stiff drink to process all of this."

"That is a common reaction," Severus said while taking out a flask. "Some of the finest bourbon I won from Lucius."

Hermione stared at the flask. "You carry bourbon now?" she asked.

"I am married to Harry Potter," Severus replied. "Preparedness is essential."

Harry, still propped against the pillows, looked vaguely offended. "I am not that bad."

Everyone in the room looked at him and just... blinked.

Nimue rose from her chair. "I cannot stay long," she said. "Newly accepted primordial queens are apparently expected to do things."

"Terrible," Severus drawled.

"Awful," Nimue agreed. "There are councils. Oaths. The river nymphs in Wales tried to pledge fealty this morning. Very clingy lot."

"But you're all right?" Harry asked.

Nimue looked at him. Then she walked to the side of the bed and touched two fingers lightly to his forehead. Cool magic spread through the room, smelling of rain and deep lakes.

"I am," she said. "And so are you, little murder king. Eventually." Then she ruined it by flicking his forehead very gently.

"Ow."

"That was for getting kidnapped."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"You are Harry Potter. Trouble finds you, asks for directions, and then sweeps you along with it."

"Accurate," Severus muttered.