Chapter 2: A New Beginning

"Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?"
Rose Kennedy
US wife of Joseph Patrick Kennedy Sr. (1890 - 1995)

Katia was yet again in the Three Broomsticks. It had been such a long time. How many years had it been? How many years since her letter had come? She decided that it didn't matter, so she pushed away her sentimental nostalgia. She really had to get a grip.

She swirled her index finger around in her Butterbeer listlessly. She was to be at the front gates in an hour and she wasn't sure if she could take it. Being back here was so foreign and familiar simultaneously.

Enrique would be attending, which made things difficult. Sighing, she left when the time was near, apparating to the gates. It wasn't long before a figure could be seen trundling towards the gates. It turned out to be a giant man in a moleskin coat. His hair and beard were black wires sprouting out of his flesh and his eyes were like pieces of coal.

"You all righ' there, Professor?"
Already her new title had emerged.
This was Hagrid, the groundskeeper. He had shown her around the previous week-not that she really needed a tour. She remembered every rock and blade of grass, every hallway and tapestry. How would he know that, though?

He smiled at her as he let her in, bidding her good morning. He prattled on about this and that, which was fine with her. His voice was comforting and the grounds were immense. When the great oak doors came into view, his gait slowed.
"You'll be all right from here?" he asked her gruffly.
"Yes, thank you, Hagrid."
She smiled at him kindly. Katia continued on, stepping up the stone stairs. The doors were unlocked and swung open easily.

Her footsteps echoed faintly in the deserted Entrance Hall. Katia ascended the Grand Staircase with quick, precise steps. Dumbledore would surely be in his office. Breakfast had been long ago, and lunchtime had yet to arrive. Just as she reached the stone gargoyle, it sprang aside and a pale man with greasy black hair wearing flowing black robes stepped off of the spiraling stone stairwell.

He eyed her critically, eyebrow raised. Instead of speaking, he brushed past her. It was his left arm that made the contact, and she shuddered involuntarily and gasped inaudibly. He didn't seem to notice as he continued to glide down the corridor and out of sight.

Katia frowned thoughtfully, pulling on her top lip in contemplation out of habit. Huffing, she muttered the password, Everlasting Jawbreakers, and began the climb. The knocker came into view, but before she could lift it to knock, the door opened, and Dumbledore appeared. He smiled down at her. Her mouth felt limp-she could neither smile nor scowl. It had been years, and the pain had been buried deep. Now as she looked into his old face, and his clever eyes, she didn't know what to make of him, nor he of her. She knew he had to know what she'd done, and he had discovered what she was years ago.

"Albus," she offered experimentally. He paused only a moment, although not out of hesitation. He looked down his crooked nose at her. They shared a long look, a searching look. Her head jerked and he nodded, both having come to some secret understanding.
"Katia," he carefully greeted, moving aside and opening the door.

She came into the room and glanced around the office. It was much the same as it had been the night she fled Europe so many years ago after her "episode". She remembered how he had frowned at the sight of her dress and robes torn into barely decent rags and bloodied beyond color recognition. He had awoken to sounds in his office, and came down the stairs from the Headmaster's Keep. She had Shadow Stepped, or Nation Walked, and came straight into his office. By the time he was at the bottom of the stairs, she had collapsed into an unconscious heap onto the carpet, breathing raggedly, hair plastered to her sweat-soaked flesh.

He had cleaned her as best he could without being intrusive, and then called Minerva and Poppy. She hadn't remembered much the next mooring, except blacking out after falling into a terrible rage. She went home the next night, and not returned. Until now, that is.

She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, holding one arm by the elbow, licking her lips and letting her eyes rove around curiously. There were a few new silver instruments, and the Portraits were all awake, or pretending to be nodded off, the former looming directly at her, almost expectantly.

She cleared her throat nervously. Dumbledore moved to sit behind his desk, motioning for her to sit across from him. She complied, arranging the folds of her clothes neatly on her legs, crossing them at the ankles. He set his chin on his hands contemplatively. "You've been managing well, I presume?" he asked softly, the lines of his face crinkling tenderly. She nodded, not looking at him, mussing her curls, which immediately fell back into place perfectly. Her fists clenched in her lap and she wrung her hands spasmodically.
"Yes," she replied sotto voce, barely above a whisper. Her hands moved to a locket around her neck and a ring on the middle finger of her left hand.

"Have you moved on?"
She didn't answer, choosing to twiddle with her two items. He leaned forward on his desk, propped up by his elbows. "Have you moved on?"

Her dark eyes flitted up to meet his. "I can't forget them."
His gaze brushed over her sad form.
"I'm not asking you to forget," he whispered, tears forming into his eyes. "Just to live."
Katia exhaled loudly. "I don't know if I can."
"You'll never know if you don't try," he encouraged, and when she tilted her face up to look at him, her jaw clenched.
"Sometimes, I honestly don't know if I want to. Sometimes, Albus, it hardly seems worth it."

***

Katia was hesitating outside of the doors to the Great Hall. She wasn't sure about meeting the rest of the staff. It wasn't that she didn't know if she'd fit in-it was the fact that only Albus knew her secret, and she still looked the same as she had all those years before. No one really knew how old she was. They assumed she was in her thirties, that she had adopted the children between eighteen and twenty one years of age, raised them, lost them, and then held good those last ten years.

Taking a relaxing breath, she pushed the door open and entered the warmth, chatter, and low clatter.
At the end of the table nearest the doors sat Hagrid. His black eyes glinted in the candle light. He was having a friendly conversation with a tiny little old wizard on his right. On the tiny wizard's other side sat a stout grey haired witch. On that professor's right was a professor who looked absurdly like a large glittering, dragonfly; her glasses magnified her eyes until they were the size of dinner plates. She had a beaded shawl and scarf wrapped around her thin shoulders and neck. She was in a deep conversation with a kindly looking blonde-haired, blue-eyed witch. A tall, pale, imposing witch with dark hair and dark eyes occupied the chair on her right. The chair beside her was occupied by a stern looking, bespectacled witch whose dark hair was twisted severely into a bun, and Dumbledore sat on the other. On Dumbledore's other side sat the strange man from yesterday. Further along sat a witch with spiky grey hair and yellow eyes. Beside her was an ancient wizard who was conversing with a young witch with a black bob and purple eyes.

She was between the ancient professor and a small, thin, aged witch with a beaky nose and silver curls. At the other end sat a dignified black woman even taller and imposing than the pale witch by the vacant seat. The only vacancy was beside the man all in black.

At first no one noticed her presence, but Dumbledore glanced up, smiling when he saw her and waved for her to sit near him. The quiet chatting stopped as she sat down.
"Guess I'm a party killer," she remarked lightly.
"Not at all, not at all," the tiny little man reassured her, waving away her concern. He was Filius Flitwick, the Charms Professor. Katia observed the rest of the table. All were introduced: Pomona Sprout, Sybill Trelawney, Charity Burbage, Septima Vector, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Yolanda Hooch, Silvanus Kettleburn, Nellie Sedgewick, Bathsheda Babbling and Aurora Sinistra.

Severus Snape...hadn't she heard that name before? She smiled politely and called out a soft greeting to Hagrid. He smiled hugely, swigging from his enormous mug of October Ale.

The others were nice enough, she mused. They didn't corner her and interrogate her. They welcomed her. All except for the scowling Severus Snape seated beside Dumbledore.

There was a pop and a more attractive than normal house elf appeared. Katia stood immediately, a knot of dread in her stomach, nearly knocking over her sparkling water.
"SeƱora!" Columbine shrilled distraughtly. "It's happened!"
Katia straightened and gazed around the table, determined yet apologetic. "If you'll excuse me, I have personal matters to attend to."
She focused on Albus. "I'll explain later."
Then she briskly swept over to the elf, taking her hand and vanishing with a crack.

She just hoped she could get there fast enough and not kill when she did.

***

Reality burst in around them in a rush of color and muted sound. She didn't wait for her eyes or ears to adjust, and dammit, her lungs would have to wait too. As soon as she was stable, she broke away from Columbine, leaving the elf to tremble by the front door. Shouts could be herd coming from the grand house she entered, obviously belonging to a wealthy family. The lock was easy; she waved her hand and the talon inside sprang out of her way, seemingly sensing her wrath. "Mierda," she muttered, using her wand to blast random items and furniture out of the way. The voices could be heard even more clearly. One was older but not elderly, masculine, and clearly furious. The other was feminine. The remaining two were younger sounding. One, she knew, was her twin brother, Fabio, and the other was his boyfriend, Jasper.
"-will not have one in my house-"
"-no son of mine-"
Katia hissed and walked faster, ruining the hardwood finish and the door in front of her.
"Oops," she said carelessly, stepping over the half-incinerated melted blob that remained, "how thoughtless of me to use that good of a hex on your shitty, fucking door."
Four pairs of eyes turned toward her, one pleading, one terrified, and two outraged.
"Fabio, get in the hallway and stay outside until I come to get you. Jasper, go pack your crap."
They scurried from the room as quickly as they could. Jasper's father was an unpleasant, portly man with a bulbous nose and a toupee. (She called it a head doily). The wife was average looking, with beady eyes, gaudy jewelry and bloody red lips.
"You have no right-"
"Shut up you stupid bloody tosser," Katia growled, the old slang flying to her lips effortlessly. The wife gasped, her little beady eyes glaring maliciously.
"How dare you, you filthy little-"
"I believe," Katia cut in icily, "that I was talking. And if anyone is pulling out guilt factors, it's going to be me. For one, no one yells at my brother. Two, what kind of sick, cruel, heartless bitch of a mother casts out her only child for who he is, or worse yet, for a man who won't let her think for herself? All of this fucking tartuffery is making me want to vomit. That's not love, it's hate in its most basic forms, and one of the only things to rightfully fear besides fear itself, and true evil. You should be ashamed of yourselves. What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm utterly disgusted by you. I want you to know that Jasper is family, and from now on he'll be living with Fabio and I, people who love and appreciate him and his unique persona."
The husband began to splutter. "You can't-"
"Oh," she said, leveling her wand at his Adam's apple, "I think I can. You don't seem to be in any position to make a deal, Philip," she hissed, hacking his name out. "You think you're better because you feel so pure. It kills you to have to think of magical relatives, but it kills you more to think your son might be happy. Well let me tell you something. Suck it up. Suck it up and shit it put and die for all I care."

She stepped back, not lowering her wand until she was back in the hallway, melding into the shadows. She glanced at Fabio and Jasper, disheveled and clutching various packs and suitcases hastily shoved full.
"Don't forget to close your suck-arse door when we leave," she called. "I mean, what were you, raised in a barn?"

***

Lunch was ending by the time they arrived. She left Fabio and Jasper in the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff had yet to rise when she threw the doors open, still apparently radiating fury.
"Katia, what-"
"Headmaster, I need to speak with you."
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble," a voice sneered, "but we were about to have a meeting. Private matters are to be discussed latter."
Katia didn't need to turn. Her eyes landed on Severus Snape, whose scowl seemed to have deepened. His eyebrows rose. "That is, of course, unless your problems are more important?"
"Fine then," she said, quite calmly for her state. She bit back the retort forming and worked on curbing her anger. "This is a housing issue. I trust that has enough merit?"
Her eyes never left him, and he in turn continued to survey her.
"Well, Severus?" Albus questioned diplomatically, touching his fingertips together.
"Headmaster, can it not wait? Surely there are more pressing-"
"I'm sure Katia has a reasonable explanation."
"I do: I request quarters for family."
Dumbledore leaned forward, a light frown dancing across his forehead.
"I was under the impression that the child-"
"It's not the child. I need emergency housing for family until such a time that I may contact other relatives for assistance. As of now, I have two homeless people in the Entrance Hall. My sister is on a ninety day cruise trip. She is our family. Our father is estranged and our mother is long deceased. My half brothers and sister would have no qualms but they don't know about certain specific details..."
Snape cut in. "And your house? It cannot be used?"
She struggled to keep from glowering at him.
"No, my house is unavailable because of the same reasons they cannot stay with our other relatives."
"Permission granted."
"But Headmaster...surely-" he protested.
"Now that that's out of the way, what other orders of business must be put to rest?"
"Headmaster, if you could excuse me for a moment?"
"Of course. Now as I was saying..."

Gradually, everyone turned to the meeting. The last pair of eyes watched her slip through the double doors and walk out of sight, a pair of more-interested-than-usual black eyes. The ears that accompanied the vigil listened to the last strain of her voice until it, too, faded.

***

Katia returned a few minutes later after safely delivering Jasper and Fabio to a Hogwarts Elf. She soundlessly slid into the seat she had been in before and tried not to show that her hands were still trembling.

The meeting soon adjourned and chairs scraped across the stone floor as the departing company murmured farewells. Katia remained seated. She kept waiting for Snape to leave so she could talk to Albus and perhaps walk him to his office. Instead, he continued to sit with the two of them for a moment longer. He looked at her, narrowing his eyes.
"Aren't you finished yet?" he snapped.
"What is it, Katia?" Dumbledore inquired softly. She stood, that same wavery expression between a smile and a scowl in place, and went to embrace him.
He seemed surprised at first.
"Desde entonces, solo quisiera que todo quedaba el igual."
He sighed and gently placed an arm around her.
"Don't we all?" he murmured. Snape had yet to move. They were standing, and there he sat, at a loss after seeing their tender moment of grief. She straightened without a tear and swept quietly out.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at Snape.
"She can't move on."
"Well, Headmaster, she's not the only one."
He got up and left Dumbledore to his thoughts.
"Indeed," he breathed to himself and the empty chamber.

***

Of course Fabio and Jasper could have stayed at her house. The thought came to her as she sat at her worktable in her study. She tugged at a strand of curly hair in frustration. If she was honest with herself, she was the one who needed Fabio close by after what happened, and Hogwarts was the safest place he could be; and of course she was sure the others wouldn't be quite as unreceptive. They'd all gotten into...things...before...

She got up and poured herself some butterbeer. The sweetness was almost unwelcome. Gagging, she set her glass down, tracing the rim with her pinky, and stared out across the grounds through her open window.

A knock sounded at her door. She shuffled to it, the old wood creaking lowly. A pair of red rimmed eyes blinked at her as Fabio cleared his throat. She silently let him in and shut the door. For a half hour she let her twin cry on her shoulder. Then she laid down in her own bed after he left and held herself.