CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Avrille
I sat slouched in a comfortable armchair, a little off to the side of the hearth in the Three Broomsticks' nicest upstairs room, checking my watch every thirty seconds. In between glances down at my wrist and sideways looks of appraisal at the crackling flames next to me, I watched distractedly as Char jumped back and forth between the previously neatly made bed and a second armchair I'd pushed next to it to serve as a launching pad. He'd napped long for me earlier. However, that only meant he was flush with well-rested energy instead of the manic overdrive that resulted from being overtired and cranky. No doubt he was also still feeding off of the contagious festivity we'd passed through in the main pub downstairs. It was still over six hours until midnight, but the pub was already packed with patrons getting a head-start on their New Year's Eve revelries. I'd given Madam Rosemerta an apologetic smile as she was pulled away from her barkeep duties to show Char and me up to this room. Hopefully the noise downstairs was masking the thumps and creaking of springs as Char leapt back and forth from one piece of furniture to the other. I probably should have reined him in, but I was too busy trying to calm my excited nerves.
I checked my watch obsessively again. Only just five-thirty. Severus could be joining us any minute, or in several hours. We'd left the castle all together a little while ago but had parted ways just outside the school gates. Char and I continued on our chilly walk to the tavern while Severus had Disapparated to Greyadder House with a large box tucked under his arm. Inside, each shrunk by a charm to the size of a matchbook, were hundreds of newspapers. They'd arrived that morning from the Daily Prophet's London headquarters. Severus had spent almost all day in his office, enlarging them to normal size and sorting through them in stacks so mountainous his desk was barely visible. When I'd asked what he could possibly want with a decade's worth of old news, Severus had explained Carrington's request for information he'd missed while being imprisoned.
However, instead of just handing the delivery straight over to the man currently re-imprisoned at Greyadder House, Severus had to be sure he wasn't giving the Death Eater any news he shouldn't discover. Severus had therefore pulled from the shipment the issues of the Sunday Prophet that held both our wedding and Char's birth announcements and burned them. To make the omission of these issues less obvious, Severus also removed random papers from other years, intending to tell Carrington the newspaper office hadn't been able to provide every single back-issue. I knew better by now than to think Severus was being paranoid.
Severus had already checked on Carrington once this week, the day after Christmas. Knowing there was a murderer currently holed up in my in-laws' abandoned property, who required my husband's constant care and supervision, put a slight damper on our holiday. We'd had a good time anyway. Char, at least, had made out like a Niffler. Along with the expected gifts from us and my family, he'd received presents from several of the Hogwarts staff, including a plush phoenix from Professor Dumbledore, a handsome, hand knit sweater from Molly Weasley, a box of sugar stars from "Baby Aurora" [thanks a lot, Lavinia], and—to my extreme surprise—a new set of toy soldiers from Narcissa Malfoy, similar to the type I'd glanced at in her parlour that been Draco's. Narcissa's gift had been by far Char's favourite, the soldiers able to line themselves up by a charm and march around the floor while playing various patriotic tunes on their tiny instruments. A note for me had accompanied the soldiers, apologising for both the toys, in case they made too much noise, and also for her lack of further communication following our one tea date. Narcissa hoped we would be able to get together again sometime after the holidays, mentioning she was unfortunately too busy at the present time. I suppose having to shelter your outlaw sister and brothers-in-law left little time for social engagements.
The other Death Eater in charge of Carrington, Selwyn, had apparently already checked in on the convict at Greyadder House yesterday, but Severus had wanted to stop in himself this evening to hand over the requested newspapers. He figured the quicker Carrington had something new to occupy his time, the less likely he was to wander around the property, intruding on places he shouldn't. He also wanted to make sure Carrington was set in all other ways. Severus would be back to teaching classes in a week, which meant Selwyn would be taking over the majority of the check-ins. I knew the idea of leaving Greyadder House at the mercy of two Death Eaters was really bothering Severus, even though he continued to insist he had little emotional attachment to the place.
Another check of my watch after a sharp word to Char to settle down; the last exuberant leap of his from the bed with a whoop had almost toppled the armchair over. Hopefully Severus would make it here for dinner. I couldn't imagine delivering a box of newspapers could take that long.
I tapped my foot impatiently on the worn rug but couldn't stop myself from smiling at Char, who'd discovered throwing himself face-down on the extra bouncy bed was even more fun than jumping off of it. I shifted my weight uncomfortably as I tucked a wave of hair behind my ear to get it out of my face. Yes, the well-worn cushions were starting to allow me to feel the metal mesh of springs beneath them, but I was also unnerved momentarily over how similar some of Char's shrieks of delight sounded to the joyful peals of laughter I'd heard in the night's air after Tommy's spirit had vanished. I still thought about that night constantly, wondering what exactly Tommy had meant when he said I'd have to wait and see what his gift to me was. What was it, and how long would it take to, I don't know, kick in?
The morning after I'd returned to the castle and had that horrible blow-up with Severus, I'd gone to tell Professor Dumbledore everything that had happened during my mission for him. He'd sat silently, tall and majestic, in his office chair while I'd recounted every single detail I could think of. I tried to remember my conversations with Tommy word for word. I also conjured Edith Kensington's hospital records from their hiding place in Hogsmeade and gave them to the headmaster. I thought maybe there would be some detail from my story or in the records that would mean more to Professor Dumbledore than it did to me. But if I'd been placing my hopes on the headmaster presenting me with some kind of grand revelation explaingin what the hell the point of the whole thing had been, I was pretty disappointed. He'd confided that, unfortunately, the mystery of Tommy stumped him almost as much as it did me. He'd been so convinced I would discover a physical object, not a spirit or a skeleton. His only explanation, that at least somewhat answered my question of why Tommy's ghost had been left in a place where it could be discovered and questioned, was that You-Know-Who had fully intended to leave this object there with Tommy as its guard. Perhaps he'd lost his powers before he was able to return to the site of the hospital and utilize it as a hiding place. Professor Dumbledore thanked me profusely for my investigation but politely declined to answer any more of my questions. I'd wanted to know if the fact the hiding place was empty except for Tommy meant that the object hadn't been created at all, or if it was simply stashed somewhere else. An enigmatic smile was all I received for a response.
With a small groan and a stretch of my arms up toward the dark rafters , I gave the clock over the mantle a read instead of my watch. Five thirty-five. Really, it should be any second now! As if reacting to my thoughts like a spell, the flames in the hearth suddenly flared higher and bright jade. I leapt to my feet with a grin and a heavy inhale of anticipation. Char had stopped bouncing momentarily to gaze at the glowing green with wide eyes.
"Here she comes!" I called excitedly over my shoulder to him. As the words left my mouth, a person suddenly appeared in the fireplace, spinning so fast it was impossible to discern anything about them except a wall of whirling blue. Gradually it slowed, and after a few more seconds, a figure stepped out onto the sooty hearthstones swathed in a navy cloak. A fur-trimmed hood was pulled back to reveal a chocolate-brown chignon and Char's eyes, different only by the gentle creases of laugh lines surrounding them.
"Mom!" I squealed and dove into her outstretched arms.
"Finally!" my mother proclaimed over my shoulder as she squeezed me tightly. "You would not believe the line I had to wait in at the Ministry before they'd let me take a Floo."
Ever since Cornelius Fudge began his crackdown on dissenters over the summer, entrance into "his" domain had become more and more complicated. Foreign visitors were now required to submit to an interview and inspection on arrival in Britain, instead of just quickly registering their presence in the country. The cordial relationship between the current Canadian Minister and Fudge had helped pave the way easily for my mom's visit, but she'd still had to wade through a fair amount of red tape in between arriving through the official Canadian Floo network and leaving for here through the British Ministry's.
Mom pushed me gently back to arm's length and looked me over.
"Well, you appear to be fine, so let's move on. Where is my grandson!?"
"Thanks, Mom," I said, with a good-natured roll of my eyes, and turned to call Char over. He was suddenly shy, not having seen his grandmother since this time last year. I was able to convince him to come over by carrying him in my arms. It only took a moment before he'd warmed up enough to let my mom hold him on her lap in the armchair I'd vacated.
"How can he be two already!? It doesn't seem possible," Mom said, her voice muffled with her lips pressed against Char's hair.
"He's still got a few hours before we officially enter the Terrible Two's. Let me enjoy what's left of them!" I laughed, pouring my mom a glass of Gillywater.
"Please, two is easy," she said, accepting the glass I offered with one hand as she held Char tightly clasped to her with the other. "You were still slightly malleable at two. Three, now … that's what you need to worry about."
"Don't tell me that," I moaned and collapsed on a footstool beside her. "Give me some hope that this will eventually get easier."
My mom looked thoughtfully off into the distance as she sipped her refreshment. Char busied himself fingering the blue and white crystal broach resting against the base of her neck, holding her cloak together.
"Sixteen," she said finally, with a decisive nod. "Sixteen is about when you got easier."
"Uh, that's when I left for school, Mom."
Her dark brown eyebrows knitted together.
"Oh, you're right."
I buried my face in my arms and groaned melodramatically into them. Turning my head and glancing up at her, I saw my mom shrug with an incredibly self-satisfied look on her face as she took another sip that seemed to say, "Well, what do you want from me?"
"Anyway," I said, slapping my knees with my hands and jumping to my feet once more. "I can send down for dinner if you're hungry. Severus should be here soon, I hope. He had something he had to finish up."
"That man never stops working, does he?" Mom asked with pretend exasperation, handing her empty glass to me so she could unfasten her cloak. Char fussed a little when she moved the broach out of reach behind her, but she pulled the hood around from her side so he could mush the soft fur between his fingers instead.
"Not if he can help it," I said, forcing a smile on my face. My mom had a vague idea of the troubles we were dealing with right now but knew none of the particulars. I'd managed to pass the word to her face-to-face through the Floo, before the Ministry started monitoring it, that You-Know-Who had truly returned, beyond any doubt. However, she had no clue what that truly meant for Severus and me. I'd never told her about Severus's past as a Death Eater and spy. It wasn't that I didn't trust her, or that Severus didn't, it was just safer to keep that bit of information confined to as few people as necessary. Being the amazing woman she is, Mom hasn't asked any questions when I told her over the summer we wouldn't be able to visit, and that we needed some time, given the current situation, to make sure things were safe before she came here to us. With You-Know-Who distracted with gathering information from the escaped Death Eaters, Severus decided there wasn't going to be a better time for my mom to come see Char and us.
"We should wait for Severus, if you and Char aren't too hungry," Mom said. "I didn't have breakfast too long ago, after all."
"We can wait a bit. Can I conjure your things for you?" I asked, pulling out my wand.
Mom paused bouncing Char on her knees for a moment to look long and hard at me. Her eyes looked slightly wet.
"That would be lovely. They're in the living room, near the piano. Two bags." By the living room, she meant, of course, our house in Nova Scotia. I'd told her when we made arrangements not to worry about trying to bring her things with her. It would only slow her up at the Ministry.
With a brisk wave of my wand over at the corner of the room, beneath a painting of a snow-covered cottage, two well-worn carpet bags appeared with a "pop." Mom wiped a definite tear away with the back of her hand as I stowed my wand back in a pocket.
"It's just conjuring, Mom," I said, a little embarrassed by her sudden emotion.
"Oh, 'just' conjuring, is it?" she replied with kind sarcasm. She allowed Char to slide off her lap so he could run over and inspect her bags for any signs of escaping presents. "Forgive me for not being completely over the fact yet that you can do magic at all, let alone work spells over such a distance I can't even begin to comprehend doing myself.
"And I consider you completely to blame!" my mom stated loudly over her shoulder at the door creaking open behind us. Severus stepped through, wrapped in his heavy wool cloak and with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
"What could I have possibly done now?" he asked as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them down on a three-legged table next to the door.
"Nothing, besides restoring my daughter's magic and confidence in a matter of months when so-called experts weren't able to accomplish anything remotely close to that in fifteen years," Mom said, standing up to meet him. "As well as helping to provide me with the most precious grandson in the entire world."
"On those charges, I declare myself unashamedly guilty," Severus said, crossing the room to kiss my mom on her offered cheek. "Dora. How are you?"
"Not bad," she replied, sitting back down. "Better now that I've seen all three of you."
I glanced at Severus surreptitiously while my mom was momentarily distracted by Char running back into her arms with a cry of, "Grammy!" Severus met my eye as he hung up his cloak with a tiny nod to convey everything was fine with our unwanted charge at Greyadder House.
"Dinner?" I asked around, with a concealed sigh of relief.
Even though she'd declared she was barely hungry, Mom managed to polish off a large slice of steak and kidney pie while recounting all the news of my relatives and friends back home in Nova Scotia. Severus kindly ensured more food ended up in Char's stomach than on his shirt, while interjecting polite inquiries once in a while as to the health of his various in-laws, allowing me to focus completely on my own meal and my mom's company. When we were finished eating, I apologized to her that she would have to spend most of the visit here at the inn. Obviously we couldn't put her up at our Hogsmeade house, like we had last year, and both Severus and I felt it was best to not to push Umbridge's current tolerance of us by trying to find her a room at the school. My mom brushed my apologies aside. She had a basic understanding of the situation at Hogwarts from the carefully worded letters I'd written her over the past six months. Declaring both the atmosphere and the food of the Three Broomsticks absolutely delightful, she insisted she would only complain if she saw Char for less than eight straight hours tomorrow.
After we adults indulged in a round of aperitifs, Char's bedtime arrived. Severus offered to bring him back to the castle so my mom and I could have a little time alone together to finish catching up. At first Char protested leaving his Grammy behind with a show of exhausted tears that left his face soggy and splotchy. Severus was finally able to bundle him up and get him out the door by reminding him he had to go to bed so he could wake up and have his birthday presents in the morning.
As soon as Severus had closed the door behind them, and we could hear his footsteps sounding down the stairs, my subtle mother blurted out, "So when are you two going to get to work making me another grandchild?"
"Mom!" I gasped, half-choking on a sip of wine but glad it hadn't shot out my nose. At least she'd waited until Severus had left. Although, seeing the mortified expression on his face would have been pretty damn funny …
"What?" Mom asked innocently, a perfectly plucked eyebrow arched coyly over the rim of her own glass half-filled with port.
"We … I mean, it's not a good time." I felt my cheeks colour slightly. Even though I was an adult, talking about such things with my mother was still fairly embarrassing.
"And the middle of your apprenticeship was a good time?" she asked teasingly, bringing my whole face to glow red. I must've inherited the annoying tendency to blush furiously when flustered from my dad; my mom barely ever batted an eyelash herself.
"Come on, you promised you wouldn't bring that up anymore. Anyway, you're the one who said I didn't need two degrees when I first applied, remember?"
"I know, I know. It's just too fun to tease you. You know how grateful I am to Severus, and how happy I was to find out about your engagement and pregnancy. Well, eventually."
I smiled at the memory. "Eventually" was really only about two hours. For someone who'd tried to counsel me against the double workload of two apprenticeships, my mother was surprisingly upset at me when I told her I'd had to abandon one of them after becoming, um, "involved" with my supervisor. But even her slight disappointment at how my career had been put on hold couldn't withstand the overwhelming joy of expecting a gurgling, cooing baby in several months' time.
"We would like to have another one," I finally confided, "just not right away. Besides, I can't even imagine being pregnant right now with Char running around the way he does."
"Avrille," Mom said, suddenly very solemn as she placed her empty glass down on the floor beside her, "even though I don't live here and am not party to all the information about what's going on in your life right now, I'm not wholly out of the loop. I started getting the Daily Prophet in June after you contacted me—"
I couldn't help interrupting her with an exasperated sigh and a roll of my eyes.
"—Now stop it," Mom interjected, holding up a hand. "Give me some credit! I know what a horrible, biased load of propaganda that rag has turned into lately. I simply read it to find out what they're being paid to say. The way that they're constantly tearing down Dumbledore makes it glaringly obvious how scared they are of him and what he's been trying to tell the world since the summer. What concerns me is that, while it's noble and brave of him, he's making himself a target, along with anyone who's a known ally of his. Severus does an excellent job of keeping his head down and himself out of the paper, but I can't help but be worried that the close relationship he and Dumbledore share is putting you all at risk."
I sighed again and bit my cheek. If she only knew the half of it. I flexed my fingers on the round wooden end of the armrest, wishing I could tell her everything. The lamplight glimmered off the diamond on my ring-finger with the movement, making the eternal spark that was sealed inside appear to burn even brighter for a moment.
"Mom, you know how hard it is for me to keep you in the dark," I began, but my mom cut me off again.
"I'm not asking you to tell me anything. I didn't mean it to sound like I wasn't respecting your wishes for secrecy. I understand completely why you and Severus have to keep things to yourselves right now. I just …"
She hesitated, gazing off to the side at the rather pedestrian painting over the mantle of a sunset over a lake. It wasn't like my mom not to instantly blurt out what was on her mind, but then again, it wasn't really like me to keep secrets from her. When she did finally continue, it burst from her lips in a rapid torrent as though rushing through it would hurt less, like ripping off a bandage.
"I just don't want you to regret anything if, God forbid, something happens to Severus."
When I simply continued to sit, staring at my rings, Mom took a shaky breath and added, "I'm not insinuating that I believe you haven't weighed the possibility with him. I just wanted to offer the first-hand perspective I have. If you don't feel like your family is complete with just Char, don't wait to add to it. You won't know when you've had your last chance until it's already gone."
"You're talking about Dad, right?" I asked quietly. "Are you saying you wish you'd tried to have another baby before … before he was gone?"
Mom's eyes glimmered in the firelight for a moment. I knew she detested crying. It reminded her too much of the period right after my dad's death. Looking at her, I finally put my finger on what it was about her that had changed slightly since we were last together; Mom had started colouring her hair. Without the intermittent wisps of grey I'd grown used to seeing as a teenager, Mom looked much more like the woman she'd been right when my father was murdered.
I stood and walked over to the sideboard to get her another glass of water. I busied myself there longer than I needed, picking up ice cubes by hand and dropping them one by one into the glass, to give her a moment. When she'd composed herself she said, as quietly as I had, "Before he was killed, no, I didn't want another baby. But afterwards, yes. As much as I love you, I wish so much that you hadn't grown up alone." Apparently this idea upset her even more. As I peeked at her out of the corner of my eye, I saw a single tear spill over to race down her cheek and drop off the end of her jaw before she could wipe it away self-consciously.
But while my back was turned to pour some water from the pitcher, I heard her say, even more gravely than before, "Avrille, there's something I've never told you."
I looked back over my shoulder at her. Shadows, that had nothing to do with those cast by the dancing flames, darkened her face, making her look significantly older despite her newly darkened locks. She was biting her lower lip, like she wanted to physically keep whatever secret she'd been harbouring safely inside her for just a little longer. I became suddenly hyperaware of the smallest details, like how a drip of water from the sweating glass in my hand was caught in between two of my fingers, the tips of which were almost numb from the cold of the ice. I felt like I was teetering tiptoe on the edge of a precipice. One word from me, and I could step back from it; Mom would take her secret with her to the grave. I was certain this moment would never come again.
I took the plunge.
"What is it?" I asked carefully. I crossed back toward her and offered the glass of water before I truly could no longer feel my fingers. She waved it away without breaking eye contact with me. I deposited the unwanted beverage on the mantle and took my seat once more.
"I should have told you long ago," she began. "I never meant to keep it from you, but there just was never a good time. Before your father was killed, we both agreed you were too young. Afterwards, you were so unstable for such a long time, I didn't want to heap any more burdens on you. I also still strongly believed your father wouldn't have wanted you to know until you were older. Then, before I knew it, you'd gone away to school. You seemed so happy finally, I didn't want to tell you anything that might bring you pain."
She abruptly stopped talking, perhaps to gather more strength to continue. Like a textbook picture of anxiety, I was sitting on the actual edge of my seat. Part of me wanted to yell, "Oh my God, spit it out already! You're torturing me!" but I knew whatever it was, it was incredibly important for Mom to tell it at her own pace.
Finally, when I really thought I wouldn't be able to take it much longer, Mom whispered, "You weren't our only child."
"What!?" I breathed in utter disbelief. Mom closed her eyes and dropped them to rest on her clasped hands.
"You had a brother. A twin."
I didn't know what to say. I dropped back against the chair-back, feeling like she'd just kicked me in the gut. Mom straightened up, but when she continued talking, it was directed at the floor in front of our feet.
"Your father and I were completely shocked when we found out we were having two babies. So far I'd had the easiest, most routine pregnancy; I didn't even have morning sickness. I delayed seeing the midwife in person for weeks because I simply had no complaints. I made sure to eat well and get plenty of gentle exercise and rest. When I finally did see her, she said she suspected immediately there were twins in there simply from how far ahead I was already measuring. A couple easy spells confirmed it. We were having a boy and a girl.
"Because things were progressing so well and easily for me, I scheduled another visit with the midwife in a few months. My family never believed in treating pregnancy like a disease, as some Healers are wont to do, and usually only saw a midwife once or twice before delivery unless there was a problem. So, it was a while until we knew there was a problem after all."
She paused here, and I waited patiently. Maybe she was finding talking to me face to face, even though we were avoiding eye contact, too difficult, for she suddenly stood and took a few sips of the water I'd brought her. When she spoke again, it was to the gilded frame of the mantle's painting.
"I hadn't suspected anything was wrong at all. You were so lively and active, even then, that I didn't notice any loss of movement. I felt like I was being kicked daily in the ribs by five babies." I could hear the bittersweet smile in her voice. I was able to catch a ghost of it as Mom turned her face slightly so she was in profile to me. With her next breath, any semblance of a nostalgic expression was erased by crushing pain.
"When I found out, I felt like I should have known. What was the matter with me? What mother doesn't know, doesn't instinctually feel, that one of her babies has died?"
I couldn't help but place a hand on my own stomach. Even though it'd been almost exactly two years ago, it was so easy for me to recall how Char had felt growing inside of me. From the first tiny punch, that felt like a kernel of corn popping, to his tiny somersaults, which made me secretly wonder if I'd somehow swallowed a goldfish whole by mistake … all the way to the real kicks that were so big Severus and I could actually see them from the outside … Remembering all that now, I couldn't imagine experiencing those sensations with the same joy and high hopes only to then be told the absolute worst news imaginable.
I had so many questions. Looking at Mom, who wasn't crying but was still gazing off vacantly like she was reliving that grief-stricken moment, I didn't know if it would be callous to ask them. However, she'd started this confession because she wanted me to know the truth. Maybe allowing me to know everything would help her come to terms with it finally herself more quickly.
"Were we born together?" I asked quietly.
Mom shook her head, rubbing her crossed arms like she was cold and not standing right in front of a fire.
"No, it was too early for you to be born when we found out. I had to undergo a procedure at the hospital for your brother to be delivered so you could continue growing healthily."
I swallowed hard, trying to imagine my parents going through that. I simply couldn't. It was too horrific.
So I asked instead, unable to shake the need to fulfill my morbid curiosity, "How long was he …" I couldn't even finish the sentence. Fortunately Mom knew what I was referring to.
"Before they knew and delivered him?"
I nodded, apologetically.
Mom sighed and finally dropped back down into her seat. "The Healers said they couldn't be sure. Long enough that we feared what effect it might have had on you, but obviously you ended up being fine. The autopsy spells were inconclusive as well. We never found out exactly what happened. He just stopped one day. He wasn't meant to be."
I could hear the stifled tears in her voice and see the tension in the lines around her eyes, but there was still one last thing I need to know.
"What was his name?"
Mom finally met my eyes. Our shared look and my question proved to be the final straw. Liquid sorrow pooled around her lashes before rushing free to fall like droplets of rain on her trembling hands.
"Aaron. Your brother's name was Aaron."
Mom's composure completely dissolved. She fell forward, head on her knees, with gasping sobs. I sprung from my chair to wrap my arms around her tightly as she rocked back and forth, shuddering almost uncontrollably. As I held her and shushed her gently as she had done for me innumerable times growing up, I think I finally understood without asking why I'd never grown up with a younger sibling. Seeing the depths of her pain now, nearly thirty years later, it was easy to guess that Mom, and probably Dad too, simply couldn't have survived the loss of another child.
"Oh, Darling, I'm so sorry."
I was lying in Severus's arms in bed, resting the back of my head on his chest after recounting my mom's divulgence. He must've been truly feeling my pain and sadness as his own; he almost never used terms of endearment with me.
I'd spent several more hours with my mom after that. Even though it'd been painful experience with her, after she was done temporarily grieving the loss of my brother, Mom had said it really had helped her to feel better. I assured her she'd done the right thing telling me. We'd managed to finally wrap up the evening on a more light-hearted note after Mom described in detail the latest of my youngest uncle's get-rich-quick schemes (so far all he'd gotten out of them was a relationship with his defense attorney bordering on intimate).
"I feel like I should suddenly be different, somehow," I said quietly. Char was fast asleep on his cot beside us, allowing us to actually stretch out and make full use of the bed space. The candlelight was dim. I could just barely make out my hands, worrying a section of forest green bedspread between them, and Severus's resting against my stomach. "My mom said she felt like she should've known, that she'd lost half of her pregnancy, and I feel like growing up, I should've known something was missing from my life."
I paused and reached deep down into my heart. Severus sat motionless. So far he'd let me talk with almost no interruption for forty-five minutes.
"Maybe I did know," I said finally. "I do recall often feeling a sense of loss, like I'd forgotten something important. I always assumed that stemmed from losing my father when I was still so little, and also from the memory loss that happened around that time. But now if I really stop and think about it, I remember feeling that way even before he died, sometimes.
I felt Severus nod behind me and hold me a little tighter. When I stayed silent with my thoughts for a few minutes, he said, "After hearing all of this, it finally makes sense to me."
"What makes sense?" I asked, turning my head to look up at him.
"You," he said simply. When I furrowed my eyebrows at him, he elaborated. "Your powers. Why you possess such strong magic innately. I always thought it was simply some strange genetic anomaly, perhaps just the right two recessive genes coming together, but this is a much more likely explanation. It's so obvious to me with hindsight, now, but I suppose I shouldn't judge my oversight too harshly since I wasn't apprised of the exact circumstances."
"Are you going to explain yourself sometime tonight, or should I wait until you can pull some notes together for a morning lecture?" I asked sarcastically. Severus removed his arms from me and pushed himself slightly more upright against the wall of pillows at our backs. I shifted as well onto my side, waving a couple more candles to life since it seemed we weren't actually going to bed just yet. The slight increase in light illuminated Severus's face more clearly. On it was an expression I was very familiar with from working with him; a mixture of exhilaration from solving a problem and exasperation that it had taken him so long.
"When I was at the Academia, I took a course on Dark magic through history. Obviously it wasn't meant to teach us how to do anything unsavoury, more to give those of us who were concentrating in Dark Magic Studies a comprehensive picture of how much more dangerous the world was before all of the international statutes banning most Dark practices. One obscure branch we touched on, something that hasn't been actively practiced in over a millennium because it was recognised to be inherently evil even back then, was Necrokleptemancy. Have you heard of it?"
I shook my head, but the Greek roots gave me a basic idea.
"The magic of stealing from the dead?" I guessed.
"Yes, but more specifically, the 'art' of stealing magic from the dead, or soon to be dead. Magic-users back then believed, perhaps correctly, that magic was more than some arbitrary force. It could be manifested as pseudo-physical energy that could be given at will or taken by force. A benign example of this, that we still do today, is the laying on of hands to heal another's wound. By directing our own magic to pass through us into another person to correct an injury, we're giving them a piece of our magic, if only temporarily. Another example is a Death Wish, like the one my 'beloved' father placed on me. Even though he was dead, a piece of his twisted magic remained within me for over ten years until the parameters of the curse were fulfilled.
"The problem that arose with the discovery of this phenomenon, thousands of years ago when magic was almost synonymous with religion, was that very quickly those with no scruples discovered they could perform rituals to forcibly steal the magical powers of others. Usually, it was accomplished by the victim's murder through human sacrifice. And it wasn't always just one person trying to set themselves up as a Dark Lord. Whole tribes would engage in the practice together, sacrificing of their own shamans to improve everyone else's chances of survival, such as to make it rain during a drought or to stave off a host of invaders."
"I've obviously heard of human sacrifice before, but I always assumed it was just a bunch of neolithic superstition," I said.
"Some of it was, especially the rituals performed by ancient Muggles who didn't understand it was more than just the act of killing that was giving other, magical tribes an edge over them. Throughout time, the rituals became so precise and so effective that anyone even suspected of Necrokleptemancy in the Middle Ages was, ironically, put to death. There were entire orders of Paladins devoted to the 'Art's' eradication. Their diligence proved successful, for there is no one alive today who knows exactly how the process works anymore. Thank God, or else the Dark Lord would surely have had the entire world under his thumb by now. The subject is completely taboo and not taught in any regular school, except ones such as mine that allow for a purely academic exploration."
"As interesting, and morbid, as this topic is," I broke in, getting slightly impatient, "I don't understand what it has to do with me."
"Forgive me." Severus smiled. "You know I lapse into the unconscious habit of teaching sometimes. I wanted to explain the history of the idea of magical power being transferred, permanently, from one person to another because that's what I firmly believed happened to you, while you were still in the womb."
"You think … when my brother died … his power …" I said, incredibly haltingly. The idea Severus was suggesting was so sad and discomforting that I couldn't even voice it in a flowing sentence.
Severus nodded and pulled me closer against him again. I buried the look of aversion on my face into the nape of his neck.
"I think you absorbed it. Even more than absorbed it, incubated and grew it inside you like your organs and bones that were still developing. I know it isn't something that sounds pleasant at first, but try to frame it differently in your mind. A part of your brother still lives on, in you. He was never able to draw breath and experience a life of his own, but he gave you, unintentionally, an extraordinary gift. A gift that I'm personally very grateful for, since it's likely it helped save my life three years ago. Which, actually, brings me to the other explanation I'm fairly certain about."
"What's that?" I asked, raising my head so our faces were only inches apart. Severus's dark eyes were full of sadness, as I'm sure mine were, but there was also a sense of peace about his countenance.
"I think it very likely your brother's passing is why you dream visions of the future."
"How do you figure that?"
"You said your mother confided there was a period of time between your brother's passing and the termination of that pregnancy. It's obviously an incredibly horrible idea to take in, that for a while you were sharing your mother's womb with, forgive the lack of a kinder word, a cadaver. However during that time, you were closer than probably any other living person to the veil we all pass through on our way into and out of this world. While you were sharing your mother's body with your brother's remains, it's possible a sort of wrinkle existed between this world and the next until your mother's procedure was performed, and you were left to continue growing alone. When your powers began manifesting unconsciously, when you were around four- or five-years-old, if I remember correctly, that connection you shared with the spirit world snapped into place. That was around when you had your first vision, I believe?"
"It was," I said. I hadn't made the connection between the two before.
"It also makes sense that you see visions when you're asleep, instead of falling into a prophetic trance while conscious, because that's the time all of us are open ever so slightly to that other plane of existence."
"Wow," I said simply. "I mean, it makes sense, when you really think about it. I've definitely never been able to come up with any explanation on my own, since there's no record of any Seers in my family history."
Severus shrugged as if the brilliant conclusions he'd drawn could've been reached by anyone.
After that, I really didn't feel like talking anymore. I felt like I'd been inundated over the course of the evening with enough information to keep my mind spinning through the entire new year, which had begun less than an hour ago. The official start of Char's birthday would arrive in a couple more hours' time, but I had neither the pain of contractions from two years ago nor the wistful sentimentality of last year to keep me awake until then. Therefore, after giving Severus a long kiss to make up for the one we missed at midnight due to our engrossing conversation, I settled down in bed to sleep.
Wakefulness held me hostage long after Severus's breathing slowed to match the tiny snores emanating from the cot beside our bed. I tossed and turned, occasionally beating my pillow into a new shape with frustration. The shadow of Aaron wouldn't lift from me. I couldn't help but obsess over the fact that if he'd survived, not only would I've had a sibling to grow up with, and a twin at that, but also it was likely my dad would also still be alive today. He'd only been murdered when news of my extraordinary, burgeoning powers were leaked to the wrong people. If Aaron had been born, we would've been simply two normal magical children with no special abilities, attracting no unwanted attention.
But it was also safe to assume that had all that happened instead, I never would've met Severus and fallen in love with him. My entire life would've followed a different course, and his as well. There would be no little Char snoozing in the dungeons, dreaming of all the cake he'd be stuffing into his mouth the next day. Considering what I would've lost in exchange for the family back home I might have gained made me feel a little more at peace with how the course of things had run. Finally, after making myself spend several minutes running through my nightly Occlumency exercises to both quiet my mind and ward off any unwanted visions, I drifted off into a deep sleep.
Swirling charcoal-grey fog and a jumble of gurgled voices, like the sound of a conversation overheard while underwater. The unintelligible voices are raised in anger, but the sound of them ebbs and flows like a tide. Slowly, like I am truly walking through a mist that disperses slightly ahead of me, a scene comes into view: the top of a stone tower, bathed in an otherworldly green light that isn't coming from the white twinkles of stars surrounding it. I know it's Hogwarts somehow. I can't tell exactly which tower, the picture is still too murky, but the view of the forest far below to the right makes me guess it's either the Astronomy Tower or North Tower. The laws of physics not applying to me, my eyes float closer to the masonry until it feels like I'm standing on the tower's interior with my back to the crenulations. A cluster of five figures stand to my right, the smallest of them positioned slightly out in front. Though the shadows ringing my vision have fallen away, these people remain shrouded in gloom. Try as I might, I can't make out any distinguishing features. To my disquiet, I look in the direction they are all facing to see Professor Dumbledore against the far side of the tower to my left. He's slouched against the stones, apparently unable to stand. His face is ashen and crumpled with exhaustion, or pain. A loud bang startles me. Severus strides into view, his robes billowing for a moment behind him before settling, like he'd run onto the scene.
Professor Dumbledore lifts his drooping chin a few inches when he sees Severus and murmurs his name. Severus stands as still as if the headmaster has muttered a body-bind curse instead. Then he steps into the middle of the tower, shoving the foremost mystery person roughly out of his way. The eerie green light filtering down from somewhere above gives Severus's pallid skin a bilious tint. An expression of sheer anger and self-loathing hardens his face, though the depths of his eyes seem to be screaming out in pain. Professor Dumbledore meets Severus's gaze, his own eyes surprisingly kind.
"Severus … please …" he begs quietly.
Severus raises his wand to point directly at his mentor's chest, which is still gently heaving with increasingly laboured breaths.
With a deep inhale of his own, Severus roars, "Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding flash of emerald light shoots from the wand and hits the headmaster with such force, his body is blasted up off the ground. As it falls from view behind the tower walls, I start screaming.
"Avrille! Avrille!"
I felt hands on me, shaking me roughly. I fought back for a moment until my mind woke up enough to realize it was just Severus jostling my shoulder, not some faceless attacker.
"What!? What's going on?" I gasped. My throat felt raw, and my heart hammered so fiercely I wondered if that was what a coronary felt like.
"You were screaming," Severus whispered. He kept glancing down at the other side of the bed. I heard a few quiet whimpers from where Char lay, but within a moment they quieted. Fortunately I didn't seem to have woken him up completely.
"Ugh, I'm sorry," I moaned, pressing a palm against my forehead. Both my hands and hairline were damp with cold sweat.
"Are you alright?"
Severus had lit a few candles before waking me. With their comforting light, I was able to see my husband's face was heavy with concern. Such a different expression from the one of hatred he'd just worn in my nightmare. I wiped my palm off on the crumpled sheets before touching his cheek lightly.
"No, I mean, yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Just a bad dream."
Severus continued to stare at me with worry, though now a shadow of suspicion had fallen over his features.
"Avrille …" he reproved gently, "if you think you might have just seen something—"
"No, really, it was nothing like that," I said immediately. Granted the dream had been weird enough to be a vision, but I was convinced it was simply a nightmare. Besides the utter insanity of the notion of Severus murdering Professor Dumbledore, my visions always came true the following day. Though I hadn't been able to tell for sure, I had the gut feeling the other people in the dream were supposed to be Death Eaters. There was simply no way a bunch of Death Eaters could break break into Hogwarts, and on New Year's Day! The nightmare was upsetting but completely ridiculous. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to have a bad dream after all the upsetting things my mom and Severus told me the night before.
"I promise, Severus, it was just a dream," I insisted when my husband continued to appear unconvinced.
"If you're sure …"
"I am. Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I freaked you out."
A glance at the clock told me it was just after three-thirty in the morning. I hadn't been asleep for long, but at least that left plenty of time for both of us to get some rest before the birthday boy forced us out of bed. Severus seemed to drop off almost instantly. I snuggled up close against his back, pressing my cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, and wrapped my top arm under his and around him. Forcing my breath to fall into the gentle cadence of his, I also quickly fell back asleep. If I dreamt anything else that night, I didn't remember it in the morning.
Author's Note: Though you probably recognized the source yourself, I wish to be clear that the general scene set-up and dialogue of Avrille's dream is taken directly from the end of the chapter "The Lightning-Struck Tower" inHarry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. No copyright infringement is intended.