Chapter 354: Morgoth
Kael understood at once. His face darkened, and he glared at Saruman, killing intent in his eyes.
"You told Sauron about that sacrificial array?"
Saruman inclined his head, utterly unashamed. "I knew it was a ritual dedicated to Morgoth," he said. "Such arrays were wiped from Arda long ago. When Morgoth fell and was cast into the Void, the hosts of the Valar scoured away every trace of that magic. For some reason, one pattern remained, hidden in the Heiman Shrine.
"At first, I was only curious about what you had done there. When I used a Seeing‑stone to look back, I watched you destroy the array. I copied it down purely out of interest, for study.
"Later, when you shattered my body and my soul fled to Mordor, Sauron seized the chance to bind me as his servant. In the end, the pattern passed into his hands."
Elrond knew of that array as well. He had been the one who made Kael burn the copy he had drawn, for fear of what might follow if it survived.
Now, hearing Saruman's account, he frowned. "That array was made by Morgoth's worshippers," he said slowly, "to sacrifice lives to him. How can Sauron use it to regain his strength?"
Saruman answered at once. "Because the array opens a road to Morgoth. Even in exile beyond the walls of the world, in the Void outside Arda, he can be reached if enough is sacrificed. With a strong enough offering, Sauron could call to his former master and, through that link, draw on Morgoth's power to restore himself."
His mouth twisted in a thin, bitter smile. "There is only one problem. Once the array forges that link, Morgoth may be able to use it to fix his gaze on the world again. Given a true anchor, he might force his way back into Arda.
"And though Sauron once served him, a servant who has worn a crown has little wish to kneel again. That risk is why he has not chosen that path, dangerous as it is, to regain his strength."
He turned his eyes on Kael. "But now, Kael, your presence has upset all Sauron's designs. You have driven his power back into the far East. Mordor's strength is penned in and forced on the defensive.
"After my failure here, if he sees no hope of reclaiming the One Ring, he may decide to use the sacrificial array and reach out to Morgoth. Morgoth is far more terrible than Sauron. With Morgoth's aid, Sauron will grow strong indeed."
Silence fell. The air itself seemed to grow heavier.
Sauron had been bad enough. To add Morgoth to the board was another matter entirely.
Galadriel felt it keenest. She had lived through the age of Morgoth and taken part in the wars against him. The memory of that terror had never left her.
Besides the might of Morgoth, Sauron's power was almost small. However great Sauron became, he was still only a fallen Maia.
Morgoth had been the greatest of the Valar, defeated only when the rest of the Powers joined forces in the War of Wrath to cast him out into the Void.
And in that struggle, Middle-earth had been shattered again and again. Continents had cracked. Lands had sunk beneath the sea. The ruin had looked like the end of the world.
The Elves had paid dearly in those wars.
Gandalf and Elrond had not fought in that first war, but even they had heard the tales of Morgoth's strength.
Orcs, Trolls, Wargs, Dragons, and other foul creatures had all been wrought by his hand. The Balrogs, beings so dire that even Sauron treated them with care, had merely been among his mightier servants.
Kael listened in silence, then fixed his eyes on Saruman, his gaze hard and searching. "You are telling us all this," he said at last. "Why? Do you hope we will spare you?"
Saruman seemed unbothered by the suspicion. He laughed softly. "Perhaps it is a flicker of repentance at the end," he said. "Or perhaps I simply do not wish to see Sauron's road smooth before him."
His gaze drifted westward, as if the stone walls were no more than mist. In his eyes, there was longing and a deep, old sorrow.
"Perhaps I chose wrongly from the beginning," he murmured. "And now the road back is closed to me for good."
As he sighed the words, a breath of wind stirred out of nothing, blowing across the room from the West.
In Kael's astonished sight, Saruman's tattered spirit thinned and broke apart on that breeze, and was gone.
"What was that?" Kael turned quickly to the others.
The room was closed. No draught should have been able to enter, let alone one that passed through stone as if it were air and carried a soul away.
Elrond and Galadriel said nothing, lost in their own thoughts.
Gandalf answered instead, quietly and with certainty. "Saruman has gone where he was meant to go," he said. "Do not trouble yourself, Kael. He will not return."
Kael had his own guesses about the Western wind.
But since Gandalf had spoken so, he asked no more.
He did not mourn that Saruman had not been utterly destroyed. So long as the man would not trouble the world again, that was enough.
With the greatest danger dealt with, Kael turned his mind back to Edward.
Edward was moved to the hospital wing, where Madam Amanda tended him, with Elrond, the greatest healer in Middle-earth, at her side. It was not long before he woke.
The long possession had bruised his soul, and the Dwarf‑ring's corruption had left its mark. He would need time in bed and careful care before he was himself again.
From his account, they pieced together the rest.
Saruman had taken him almost as soon as the term began.
At first, the fallen wizard had possessed a second‑year boy from Isengard. At the opening feast, when he saw Kael, his old enemy, he had let a trace of hatred slip, and Kael had sensed it.
Feeling exposed, Saruman had meant to seize Arwen, or even the unborn child, to hold them over Kael's head and force him to surrender the One Ring and the Philosopher's Stone.
He had not expected Kael to act so swiftly, sending Arwen away to Rivendell to rest until the birth. That alone had ruined his plan.
After that, his eye had fallen on Edward. The steward was deputy headmaster, second only to Kael in authority, and Kael trusted him deeply. Within the castle, he held more freedom than anyone else.
So Saruman, still wearing a student's body, had gone to the Transfiguration office under the pretence of seeking help with his studies. When Edward was off guard, he had struck and taken him.
With Edward's body as his main vessel and the steward's access to Kael's private rooms, he had tried to learn where the One Ring and Philosopher's Stone were kept.
To keep his primary mask from drawing suspicion and to distract everyone's attention, he had sometimes slipped into the students and even other professors, using them to cause one "accident" after another.
From beginning to end, he had been cunning, his disguise flawless.
Kael, Gandalf, Galadriel, and the rest had never seen a crack in Edward's manner.
Without sheer luck and the revelations of the Marauder's Map, Saruman might well have succeeded.
At least, now, it was finally over.
The lockdown at the school was lifted. The air in the corridors grew light again.
The Quidditch matches that had been cancelled were rescheduled, and the pitch once more rang with cheers.
Only those students and staff who had been tainted by the Ring or the darkness were required to visit the hospital wing for regular check‑ups and treatment. The rest were free.
The shadow over Hogwarts slowly faded. Laughter and chatter once more echoed under its roofs.
Kael had Smaug deal with the Dwarf‑ring in the simplest way: the dragon swallowed it and turned his own fire upon it, melting and devouring it utterly.
As for the vial of Black Death Plague, Galadriel, Gandalf, and Elrond joined their power to cleanse and unmake it, leaving no trace behind.
Time slipped by. Before they quite realised it, the year had turned, and March was upon them.
By then, Kael had long since left the castle, leaving Edward in charge of day‑to‑day affairs. He had gone to Rivendell to stay by Arwen's side.
She had been with child for three full years now, and her time was very near.