I
The castle was cold and silent, with only the dim light ff the moon shining through the windows and the echo of her hushed footsteps hitting the grey stone. Her robe swished as she moved, announcing her presence to whoever cared to listen, but no one did. The young woman, a witch of only twenty-five years of age, eventually reached her destination, a door made of wood with intricate carvings on it, and protected by a big, austere lock. She stopped, letting the hood of her robe fall so that the light hit her face, and a few black strands of hair were seen. The woman searched one of her pockets, and soon after a long key emerged, which she inserted in the lock and turned three times before pushing the door and stepping inside.
The living room of her quarters was big, shaped as a pentagon, and as pureblood-oriented as was possible.
Kali Nott like the walls covered by bookshelves and tapestries, and she tolerated the much too high ceilings, but even after five years she could not get used to the constant darkness her husband insisted on keeping.
"Good evening, darling," the woman said, walking to him and kissing his cheek before slipping off her robe, revealing a sky-blue dress that reached her ankles, and that wrapped her slim figure like a package, full of lace and ribbons.
Her husband, Theodore Nott, a young man only a few months older than his wife, nodded stiffly and regarded her with dark, inquiring eyes. He took her robe, as required by their social status, and returned her greeting with a firm nod, but it was soon apparent that he was not interested in formalities.
"Kali. Where have you been?"
He followed as she circumnavigated the emerald chair, took a book from the mahogany shelf on the southern wall, and elegantly took a sit at the chaise lounge. She then looked at him sweetly, with only a faint accent of the derision that accompanied her every word.
"I was merely looking for you, my love," she told him, straightening her dress with her long hands. "I could not sleep, and missed you deeply, so I thought it would be a good idea to come see you at the Astronomy Tower. I took a side route so I wouldn't arrive in the middle of your lesson, but I must have miscalculated the distance, because you had already left when I got there."
"If there is anyone who could walk this castle with closed eyes it's you, Kali. You knew the exact amount of minutes it would take you from here to the tower," he retorted, albeit less aggressively they he was before.
Kali kept her smile, and softly turned her face to the noisy clock resting beside the black sideboard. "It's only four minutes past the ending time of your class, Theo. You finished early."
This seemed to both enrage him and satisfy him, and she watched curiously as he was caught between the two emotions, until at last the second one prevailed.
Theodore Nott sat down beside his wife, and looked at her with longing eyes.
Kali smiled again, maliciously this time, and kissed him, pulling away just when he was starting to moan. She slowly and teasingly removed her dress, her book long-forgotten on the floor, before pushing her husband down and allowing both of them to scream in pleasure.
Close to one hour later, Kali Nott dressed herself again, with night clothes this time, and went to lie down on her bed. With Theo still asleep in the living room, she could have a few moments to be her true self, letting her mask fall just a little. Kali Nott was her legal name, but she wasn't born with it. She had been Hermione Granger once, before her hair became black and her eyes grey, and before Dark Magic threatened to kill her. She had had to build a mask, a whole new person, to be safe. Safe, beloved and ready to avenge her lost innocence.
A small sigh escaped her lips as she pulled the soft linen on the bed above her shoulders, searching for more warmth. Tomorrow would be the big day. It was the day she had been planning for years, her obsession, and sole reason of living.
After years of being Kali Brentwood and then Kali Nott, she had gotten used to loving certain things and people that she once despised, not to mention all the habits and beliefs that she had had to take at heart. She hadn't managed completely, however. Deep inside, she was still the scared but eager muggleborn girl who had first come to Hogwarts in hopes of finding herself, and who had lost almost everything instead.
Only one thing remained of that girl, although hidden under a new identity and a complicated weaving of lies: the memory of what had been. Even after becoming Kali, Hermione had clung to those images, and not even time had been able to distort them. A long time ago, Professor McGonagall had told her that time would be her worst enemy, that it would consume her and make her feel lost as each year passed by and she still was trapped in a body that wasn't completely hers.
But she had been wrong. Kali wasn't Hermione anymore, and the ache of that painful realization was always there in the back of her mind, but Kali had something that Hermione lacked: the ability to survive on her own, and to plot things that were bigger than her own imagination even conceived, unbeknown to all.
She had been holding her mission a secret for a long time, and now it was time for it to be revealed. A mixture of excitement and anxiety lay in her heart and soul, originated by her eagerness to share an ever-growing burden and the terrifying fear of being betrayed by her confidant. She hadn't met him, not officially, not as Kali, but his name was known by everyone, not only in the English wizarding community, but in the rest of Europe as well. She had seen him form a distance many times, pensively walking the streets of Diagon Alley. He usually was alone, but sometimes his sister or one of his brothers kept him company, engaging him in superficial conversations and pointing out objects and people, hoping to raise a more cheerful reaction than just a nod, a half-smile or a one-word answer.
He was sad, Kali noted, all the time. It was dangerous to appear unhappy or dissatisfied, but somehow he was allowed to, perhaps because of his great success, or as an unspoken acknowledgment that he had already suffered enough.
Kali knew, though, that there was no limit to a person's inner pain, even after the damaging act itself had stopped. It still hurt to think about the people she had lost during the war, and very few things could make her feel better when she was overcome by melancholy. Her beloved books, for instance, were always good companions, and Theo's arms around her subdued the ache too. But it was her mission that truly helped her to go on. And now she was so close. Less than twenty-four hours; about fifteen to be exact, and then she would take the first step on the road to changing things.
Ronald B. Weasley considered himself a methodical and pragmatic person. He woke up every morning at seven, took a walk around the fields that surrounded his small house, and reached his mother's habitation one hour and fifteen minutes later, in time for breakfast. The meal was a quiet affair, only seldom interrupted by the arrival of one of his siblings. Ronald's mother was getting older, and she was worn out not only by the passing of time, but by the birth of seven children, two magical wars, both of which had been lost, and the death of a child and a husband. Ronald had made it his sole responsibility to check on her daily and supply her with what she needed, despite his siblings' offer to share the task.
The young man preferred to do things on his own. He had simply discovered that he could achieve more that way, undisturbed by another's presence. He liked to maintain his own pace in doing chores or projects, and it hadn't taken him much to realize that velocity wasn't all.
He was a great chess player, the best perhaps, and that had been the result of many years of patience, perseverance and dedication. Chess had not only taught him to think or make strategies, but he had learned to wait as well. All in all, if he truly thought about it, Ronald knew he had been waiting all of his life.
As a child, he had waited for his parents' attention to be diverted from his siblings and to him, and as a teenager he had waited for his mother's depression to fade, and for the hurt of their two losses to decrease. His sister and his four remaining brothers had moved on more easily than him. They had grown up and gotten married, and some of them had children as well. They were happy, or as happy as they could ever be. But Ronald was still waiting. For what exactly, he knew not. But it didn't matter. He had time. He had patience. He would wait, and one day the answer would come. One day, he would get all the pieces, and he would be able to make the final move. To call checkmate. Right now, he just had to arrange the chessboard.
That day, a sharp November morning, upon his return to his household he found a person waiting for him. She had let herself in, and was sitting in the kitchen, reading a paper that she held upside down.
"Luna," he greeted, a small portion of surprise emerging through his tone.
"Hi, Ron. Sorry about the intrusion, it was cold."
"It's alright," he assured her, going to boil some water for their tea.
"I spoke to some people," she continued, seeing no point in avoiding the purpose of her visit. "As I thought, it's not possible."
She watched sadly as his shoulders tensed and then fell with disappointment. She didn't fully understand why it meant so much to him, but she knew it did, and that was enough for her. Her empathy was always stronger around him.
"I'm sorry, Ron."
The young man shook his head vehemently. "It was expected. Luna… it's not that I don't love you."
"I know, Ron."
"It's just that it doesn't feel like we're supposed to belong together."
"I know, Ron."
They had had that conversations many times before. At first, she had been sad, then angry. Now she merely felt resigned. He had taken his decision, and Luna knew how stubborn her husband was. He could take days, maybe even months or years to decide something, but then it was final.
In a way, knowing that the law forbid them to separate warmed Luna inside. It meant she would still wake up next to him every morning, and watch him play chess every night.
Ronald stayed there and watched Luna. There were mixed feelings in his heart, and he waited to see which one would eventually reveal itself as the strongest.
He and Luna had simply gotten married too soon. They had been dating for only nine months when the law that forced all those below thirty-five years of age to marry was approved, but it had made the most sense to make their relationship official instead of being arranged with someone else. Ronald knew he loved Luna, but sometimes he wondered if it was just mere affection. Familiarity. Or worst, the need to be with someone who understood him. Luna had known him at Hogwarts. She had watched him grow up, she had been there as he withdrew himself inwards after the loss of his brother and father. And, above all the things that made him and Luna similar, was the fact that she knew loss too. Her mother had died when she was just a child, and her father, like his own family, and been relentlessly questioned by Ministry officials after the war. Moreover, both he and Luna were able – and even enjoyed – to be alone, giving to their partner some refreshing and much appreciated space. Yes, he admitted to himself and her, they did love each other, but they were not soul mates. They weren't meant to be together until death parted them, and they both knew it. They had, sadly, known it all along.
"Luna… we will go on. We will learn how to be us again."
"We will, Ron," the young witch repeated firmly, but with a certain hint of bittersweet melancholy.
They also knew, quite clearly, that at their young age they were not supposed to learn how to be together, or how to change a casual, take-it-day-to-day relationship into a solid, profound marriage.
"Why don't we have lunch together?" Ronald suggested, wishing to bring them back to a ground of non-awkwardness.
Luna gave him one of her deep, touching, apologetic looks. "I've already eaten. I saw your sister with the baby in Hogsmeade, and what was meant to be a quick chat turned into a nice lunch – which she insisted on paying. We should invite them over for dinner one of these days."
Ronald nodded, back to his usual pensive mood. "I will arrange it."
Silence settled around them, covering everything else. It fell from above like a soft but compact winter snow, or like wadding, and soon enough nothing else existed in the room but that growing silence. Even their breathing was low, lower than a whisper, as their thoughts raced through the lead-like atmosphere, pondering the consequences that their dialog entailed.
It was Luna who broke the silence in the end, feeling it was separating them further instead of helping them find a balance in the chaos inside them.
"I'm coming back home," she announced, and she was pleased to note that he didn't seem vexed by it. "Our cover-story can't hold forever, and I don't want to raise trouble for my father. So I'll sleep here tonight."
"How is your father?"
He was perhaps asking out of duty, but Luna saw it as an invitation to open up nonetheless. She had missed their intimacy the most, during Ronald's inner crisis.
"He looks old," she told him, "and weak. He doesn't have much time left. He hasn't mentioned the war once during the entire week, nor talked about revenge. It's almost over."
"Poor old guy," Ronald commented with sympathy in his voice, "he's waited all these years to call checkmate, but couldn't even get past the pawns."
It was later in the same day, and dusk had already come and passed. A cold wind was keeping most of the people inside, and Kali Nott's only encounter was with a perished tabby cat that tried to follow her, but was quickly discouraged by her harsh movements.
It was a starless night, and the small portion of moon that could be seen through the big black clouds was not enough to cats light on the small streets of Diagon Alley. The young witch kept a quick pace, reaching her destination without any trouble, unseen.
A kid of about eight or nine years of age was walking out of the building, and Kali waited until he was out of sight before pushing the door open.
She found herself in a big atrium with a reception desk and some chairs, most likely meant for waiting. There was a young woman, whom she thought she recognized from Hogwarts as Ravenclaw Sylvia Bell, who stopped in her tracks in the middle of putting her winter robe on, and looked at her with both surprise and worry. Kali hadn't expected Ronald Weasley's assistant to still be there.
"Excuse me, madam, but we're closing now. Master Weasley's last pupil has just left and he's reorganizing his chessboards for tomorrow. Can I help you in any way?"
"I need to speak to him of something of the utmost importance, immediately."
"I will inform him of your presence."
Kali waited, surveying the room with her curious eyes. She liked to see new places. The Chess Master's school was quite a simple building, apparently filled with sober yet austere wooden furniture and decorated with smooth curtains that fell on the large windows with complete elegance. Kali thought that the room mirrored Ronald Weasley's personality, if she considered what she knew about him. And she knew quite a lot.
"Yes?"
The male voice shook Kali from her considerations, and she straightened her back.
"Good evening, Master Weasley. I'm Kali Nott. May we speak privately?"
She pointedly glanced at his assistance, and the man followed her gaze inexpressively.
"Ms Bell, you can go. Thank you."
"Goodnight, sir."
The door was closed gently, but it clicked loudly when Kali cast a silent locking spell.
"Forgive the precaution, but this conversation truly must be kept between us."
The man regarded her with the most unreadable look, but when he spoke his voice was smooth and calm, far from what Kali expected. She found herself admiring his ability to self-control.
"Mrs. Nott, noting that we have never engaged in any conversation before this moment, I find it difficult to image what this could be about."
Kali smiled. She smiled broadly, fully. She had a speech ready, it was printed in her brain. She had been waiting so long for this.
"I know you, Mr. Weasley."
"Everybody knows me," he told her, and this time his right eyebrow was lifted.
"Wrong. Everybody knows Chess Master Ronald Weasley, but I know you."
She moved around the room as she spoke, savouring his curiosity, his longing to know what she meant. But she knew he could wait, just like she had been forced to.
"Should I clarify myself?"
"Well, you did go to the trouble of coming all the way here, in this cold weather and at what is considered dinner time, when you are most likely meant to be supervising your students, or expected to dine with your husband. You also locked my door, and while I could easily unlock it, I'm not expected anywhere anytime soon. So do talk, Mrs. Nott. What do you know about me?"
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, younger of six boys, with a younger sister as well. At Hogwarts, you were sorted into Gryffindor. You've always felt overshadowed by your siblings, always felt like you weren't doing enough, like you weren't enough."
He was tensing, darkening, but still he remained silent.
"Of course, everything changed when your brother Fred was accidentally killed at the Battle of Hogwarts at the end of your first year. Your family had to prove their loyalty to Voldemort, and you didn't have time to feel bad about yourself, constantly worried about your family and your future. Your father was sent to Azkaban and then executed, and your mother fell into a deep depression that hasn't left her since."
She stopped, and he looked at her again. His eyes were almost hateful now.
"All those things are well known by everybody, Mrs. Nott."
"They are. What they don't know is how your loyalty to Voldemort is non-existent, and how you've been planning to bring him down for all these years."
This time, he laughed. He laughed loudly and repeatedly, hiding his blinding terror under layers of amusement.
"And what, pray tell, makes you think that?"
"Because I want the same thing," she said simply, wiping the smile from his face.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Nott, but I do not believe you."
"Ron, my name is not Kali Nott." Her tone had become sweeter, warmer, barely above a whisper but still loud and echoing in the empty room. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?"