I want to share with my readers...my original novel, September Blue, is now available on Amazon and Kindle. The link is available on my profile page or by searching for "September Blue" by Cat Whitney on Amazon. :-)

So, I've been working on this behind the scenes for a bit, and I've decided to post it. I posted a couple of test chapters from this a while back, but now it's more fleshed out. Those chapters may or may not make the final cut. This is set post Battle of Hogwarts and I've incorporated a couple of characters from other "worlds." I'm using them like OCs. The idea is that all magical worlds, and therefore magical people, exist in Harry Potter's world. Mainly, I am pulling Elphaba from Wicked (orginally Wizard of Oz) and Mary, of Mary Poppins. I will also make other smaller references. As for plot, this is the story of the Wizarding World trying to put themselves back together after the war. I've imagined that the aftermath might be similiar to what happened after World War II, specifically with the Nuremberg Trials. I'm following three main stories, one for Draco, one for Severus Snape, and one for Mary and Minerva. The story will be set entirely in the world of Harry Potter. Please let me know your thoughts.

With that, we commence...


Chapter 1: Prologue

May 2nd, Just After the Battle of Hogwarts

"We can't just leave him there. We can't."

Professor McGonagall looked Harry over, noting the raw determination in his eyes. His dark hair was mussed, his glasses were bent, and his exposed skin was smeared with dirt-encrusted blood. His body looked weary but his eyes were bright and pleading. Minerva was more than surprised at his persistence. She knew all the students must be in a terrible state of shock. Children had seen things the night before that no one should see in their lifetime. The battle had been won, but at great cost. Many of Harry's classmates lay dead. So Minerva was surprised that this was Harry's first request. Surely Fred or Professor Lupin was more deserving of his intentions.

Softly, Minerva said, "We will take care of all the bodies in time. Paying respect to those who sacrificed so greatly is our first concern, after we've tended to the seriously wounded. But Professor Snape…"

She refused to call him Headmaster.

Harry worked his jaw and replied, "He's not what you think. He wasn't what you thought."

Hermione rubbed her eyes, the weariness finally showing in her own dirt-smeared face. Her hair was wild and hastily pulled back. She didn't look any more interested in trekking to the boathouse than Minerva. Carefully, Hermione said to Harry, "Professor McGonagall can send someone, can't you?"

Minerva started to answer.

"No!" Harry cut her off, "It needs to be us," he paused, "Dumbledore would want it to be us."

Minerva tilted her head, her eyes searching Harry's face. She recognized that there was something more to this than what the boy was saying. Her underlying feline instincts whispered as much.

After a quiet pause, he began again, saying, "I think the two of you need to come with me."

Harry started to walk away. Minerva watched him, a little put off that he was essentially demanding that she follow him. Hermione, however, seemed to understand that Harry was in a position to know when something was important. She gave Minerva a pleading look and then started to follow. Minerva gave a little sigh and swept after them.

Harry led the way through the castle, sidestepping piles of rubble and backtracking to find ways around passages that were blocked. They all averted their eyes from the pools of blood and bodies not yet claimed. Minerva cast silent charms over the dead so that those who were helping with the bodies would be alerted to their locations. It was the least she could do. Finally, when they turned down a familiar corridor, she realized Harry was heading toward the Headmaster's office. The last time she'd been in that room had been with Professor Snape and his lackeys as he had lashed her verbally for having an ounce of compassion. The memory made her angry, and she wondered what Harry could possibly have stored in the office that Snape had not already found and destroyed.

They stopped at the stairs, but the password was unnecessary as the battle had blown the doors open quite effectively. Harry led the way up, his face still etched with determination. Once inside the office, they looked around, noting that it was relatively intact. Minerva found just a hint of comfort in the fact that this room was spared. It was the center of power for Hogwarts, if only symbolically, but she would not underestimate the power of symbolism.

Crossing to the massive desk, Harry carefully pulled the ancient pensieve toward himself. Looking back at Hermione and then Minerva, he said, "I can't explain it. You have to see for yourselves."

Minerva stared at him, trying to understand what could be so important at this moment that they had to dive into memories. Hermione, however, crossed to where Harry stood immediately. They were used to trusting each other. The last year had taught them not to argue, but to trust. It made them appear so much older than seventeen. With one last glance at Harry, Hermione dipped her head into the silvery pensieve and her mind was gone.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione's expression was enough to convince Minerva to do the same. She fell into the memories and finally saw what Harry had seen - Severus as a child, Severus made bitter and distrustful, Severus struggling with his own pride, loneliness, and his fascination with the dark, Severus as she remembered him as a student, but through his eyes, and Severus with Lily. Always, his mind held Lily. She saw his conversations with Dumbledore, what was asked of him. Then there was the tower, and that awful night.

Avada Kedavra!

Minerva snapped back out of the pensieve, speechless. They all stood there for some time, silent.

Finally, Harry said, "Now, do you see?"

"Yes," Minerva whispered. Withdrawing her wand, she whispered a spell and pulled the memories from the pensieve. Hermione wordlessly handed her a vial and she stored them, silvery and silent. Stoppering the vial, Minerva remembered the last time she had seen Severus alive. He had faced off with Harry in the great hall, and she had been angry enough to hex him into dust. Now, however, she remembered the slight hesitation in him as she'd pushed Harry aside and raised her wand. She remembered how he had dropped his wand slightly, and how in his eyes there seemed to be a desperate need for it all to be over. She remembered, then, that his last act before flying out the window had been to take out Amycus and Alecto with a sweep of his wand.

Leveling Harry with a stern gaze, Minerva finally conceded, "You're right. He does deserve a proper burial. But so does everyone else, so we should do this quickly."

Harry needed no other encouragement. He started off toward the door.

Hermione's hesitation stopped him, however. She was staring across the room, her jaw working the way it did when she was solving an unsolvable problem.

"Come on Hermione," Harry encouraged, "We should hurry. I'm sure we'll be missed soon."

Her eyes met his, and he saw a familiar resolve, "No. You two go on. I remembered something I promised to do. I'll catch up."

Minerva saw Harry consider arguing, but fatigue settled in his shoulders. Instead, he simply nodded and led the way back out of the office. Minerva followed and, together, they made the trek to the boat house.

There were an interminable amount of stairs leading down to the lake, and Minerva usually made it a point not to take them unless absolutely necessary. She was too old for this, but then, she was probably too old for battle as well. Ignoring the ache in her bones, she descended the stairs until they reached the edge of the lake. Clacking their way across the wooden dock, they slowed their pace as they rounded the corner into the shadows of the boat house.

The sun was muted and reflected off the water, casting ripples of light all around them. The air was heavy and dank, with the hint of old wood and mildew. Harry continued to lead, but more slowly. When he reached the far end of the platform, he stopped and looked around, his eyes searching. Minerva took a few more steps forward, surveying the area herself.

"I don't understand," Harry whispered, "It was here. He was here."

Minerva looked more closely at their surroundings. Overall, the place looked no different than usual. However, at the far end of the room, where the wall was made of murky glass that filtered the brightening sun, there was blood. Smeared across the window and pooled beneath it was what could be nothing other than blood. Minerva crossed the space and waved her wand over it. Watching the way the swirls from her wand changed color over the sticky, red puddles, she determined it was human blood. Then, she looked around, very confused.

Harry was shaking his head as well, and said, "I don't understand. He was here. Someone else," his voice cracked with anger, "must've gotten here first."

Minerva looked around, furrowing her brow and trying to make sense of it, "It doesn't seem very likely," she mused, "The rest of the death eaters have fled and they're not particularly known for their loyalty to each other, or their need to…memorialize the dead."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and paced, obviously distressed, "I just feel very strongly that Dumbledore would want me to do this. He said he didn't understand why Snape," he paused, "Why Professor Snape would want to hide the best of himself. He wanted people to know what the man did. He would want it made right, in the end."

Minerva crossed the space and laid her hand on his arm, saying, "Albus would appreciate your effort. You know how much he valued intention, even if that intention didn't yield the perfect result."

"It's just," Harry struggled, "I see it now. I can't agree with everything Professor Snape said or did, but," he paused, "it must have taken an incredible amount of courage to…I mean, for all these years…"

Minerva placed her hand gently on his shoulder and said, "I think, for Albus, it would be enough that you know that. He wasn't one for great pomp and circumstance. And you don't need a body to make sure the wizarding world knows the truth about Severus."

Harry rubbed his face, looking altogether exhausted and much older than his years, and then he said softly, "I suppose you're right. But I wanted him to have a proper grave, to ensure that they all realize we were wrong. I want it in stone that we were wrong about Severus Snape."

Minerva looked back at the blood streaked glass and said, "I know, child. I know. But you and I know that what spreads by word of mouth is often far more powerful than what's put in stone."

She gave him a long, meaningful look.

They both turned back towards the exit just as Hermione came around the corner. She crossed the space and reacted much the same as they had done. Turning back around, she stated, "He's gone."

Starting back towards the exit again, Minerva said, "Come on, both of you. We're certainly missed by now and the living need us far more than the dead. I'll make some inquiries as soon as I can about Professor Snape's body. I give you my word."

Harry struggled, glancing back again at the blood-streaked windows.

Very softly, Hermione said, "Come on, Harry. He's gone. He was gone when we left him here the first time, and there was nothing you could do. Let's go put our world back together. For all of them."

She was always the voice of reason, and Minerva could see that Harry agreed with her. With a reluctant nod, he followed. Together, they all made their way back to the castle to face the morning.


A few hours later, Minerva found herself in her office. She was exhausted. Her bones ached from all she had endured in the past twenty-four hours. All she wanted was a change of clothes and a few hours sleep before another round of questions arose. The wizarding world's problems were not over with the death of Voldemort, and the happily-ever-after was already proving to be complicated. The magical community was now calling for rounding up all the Death Eaters who had fled, and the student body was in chaos. There was so much to do and so many great leaders were dead. Before she could so much as sit down, however, Minerva nearly jumped out of her skin as another witch apparated just feet from her.

Looking around, the woman stated, "Your wards must be terribly weakened. I didn't think that would work."

Minerva looked her over and asked unnecessarily, "Mary?"

The other woman raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, as if it were ludicrous that she could be anyone else.

Minerva sighed heavily and said, "I didn't expect to see you so soon. We have quite a mess, here."

The woman named Mary looked around the room, taking in the office around her. She was dressed smartly in a well-pressed black skirt with an expensive black overcoat. Her dark hair was upswept and brushed to a shine. Her boots were sensible, yet polished. She looked both old-fashioned and very modern at the same time. Her presence commanded attention, but her charms had little effect on Minerva.

Mary Poppins had been working as a liaison for Hogwarts since long before Minerva was a student. Although older than Minerva, Mary used some sort of complicated potion and charm combination to keep herself looking no more than thirty. To Minerva, it was useless vanity. Mary, very much like Hermione, had come from a Muggle family. Her parents didn't know what to do with her, as her magic came on early and strong. At age eleven, when her letter arrived, her parents were more glad to be rid of her than surprised. She was a top student at Hogwarts and had quickly proved excellent at Legilimency and wandless magic. Not wanting to be stuck at the Ministry, Mary had taken a position in the Muggle world. At the time of her appointing, integrating Muggle-borns into the magical community had been considered extremely important and valuable. The process of finding and collecting them for schooling was overhauled and touted as progressive. Mary was hand-picked to live among the Muggles, as a nanny, finding those who showed magical ability and making sure they received their letters. Were it not for her, and those like her, many Muggle-borns might have been overlooked. Not everyone was as important, and therefore as watched, as Harry Potter. She also made parents feel at ease with the whole thing. Mary, Minerva realized, had a particularly fine ability to put ideas into other people's heads. She was also prickly and self confident, with a wild streak that had never been tamed. Minerva had a difficult time saying anything against her, because Mary was also a proud Gryffindor. However, as hard-nosed as she was about following the rules in her work, Mary flouted all convention in her personal life. She did what she wanted, with whom she wanted, and refused to ever explain herself. Still, she loved the students and she was fiercely loyal to Hogwarts, so her expression today was deeply concerned.

Not quite sure what to say at this point, Minerva asked, "Perhaps you could come back? In the morning?"

Mary gave her a hard look and said, "I have parents demanding information about their children. Former clients have sought me out. They're not even being careful. I'd say if there's much more panic the Muggles will be very suspicious indeed."

Minerva dropped onto her settee, rubbing her forehead as she struggled with the decisions. She very much wanted to transfigure into her Animagus and disappear for a while, but Hogwarts needed her leadership. Someone had to steer this ship in the right direction.

With a heavy sigh, she said, "Tell them we'll have a list of all students and their…status, by sundown."

With a curt nod, Mary said, "Very well. And good luck."

Grasping her ever-present umbrella, which Minerva highly suspected disguised her wand - a trick Hagrid had stolen - Mary raised her chin and was gone with a crack.

I really must put the apparition wards back in place, Minerva told herself wearily.

Sleep, it seemed, would have to wait.


Miles away, across the vastness of an ocean and beyond beaches, plains and mountains, another witch was in quite the struggle. She shielded herself from her attackers, still not entirely sure what she'd done to her assailants. Certainly, she had done a lot of wrong things, but none that she could recall to this particular mob of people.

Clearly, she'd angered them somehow, because they were assaulting her with buckets of water and screaming, "Kill the witch!"

Just when she thought she could take it no more, as her mind cried out for someplace, any place, other than where she was, the assault stopped. Her attackers disappeared. The very scenery disappeared. Her screams died out and she registered quiet. She felt the coolness of outdoor air on her scorched skin. She squinted into bright light.

Elphaba, the wild and infamous Wicked Witch of the West, looked around. She was certainly not in Oz any more.