3

Epilogue

Albus and Madam Pomfrey visited the week following Severus' departure. Severus had contacted them upon his return to England, conveyed the news, and then departed for places unknown. We figured that he needed time to digest the events of the past few weeks and come to terms with what had happened. Albus was concerned that he may seek revenge quickly, thus causing problems for the Order's future plans, but I reminded him that Severus was a Slytherin; there would be no quick revenge. It would be slowly plotted for maximum damage. Albus nodded in silent agreement and continued, explaining that he had suggested that when Severus returned, he consider "applying" for a position at the school. After all, Voldemort wanted someone in Hogwarts, didn't he?

Then, the two of them could decide what needed to be done.

Albus had his hands full with other matters as well. The Death Eaters were gaining power, and Voldemort had targeted James Potter as one of his biggest menaces. The Potter family had been forced into hiding. No one knew where they were, and it seemed that no one was safe.

Albus and Madam Pomfrey stayed only for the afternoon, and I felt comforted by their presence. As the friendly mediwitch drew me into a consoling hug, I could feel my strength renew. I had a job to do. This evil bastard had taken away everything that I ever cared about: my parents, my child, my home, and my husband. I'd be damned if I was going to let him get away with it.

As the couple prepared to leave, Albus drew the Camptas aside then thanked them for taking care of me so well, and with a slow movement of his hand, their memories were adjusted to know only that I had been visited by consoling friends.

As I wasn't sleeping much anyway, I rose early every morning to help Signore Campta in the bakery. Kneading the dough seemed to help alleviate some of the frustrations and helped to strengthen my muscles. Each afternoon, I would jog around the outskirts of the village, avoiding the west side that led to the cottage ruins and the area around the church. Although I had been to see Saxon's grave, I couldn't do it on a regular basis. It was far too painful. I spoke to him in the silence of my room at night and asked the Goddess to please keep a comforting watch over my little boy until he was ready to return.

Village gossip centred around what had caused the fire, how Saxon had died, and why Severus had left. Conversations would stop when I approached, and people would stare. Signora Campta would simply pat my arm and tell me to ignore it for in a small village there was nothing else for many people to do than watch the lives of others. Life was becoming uncomfortable, and I needed to release the pent up energy.

I refused to go to the meadow, so headed to an abandoned mine on the other side of the village. I spent the afternoon blasting rocks in the old quarry and returning them to their original state, only to blast them again. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. I needed a change. I needed to focus on something else.

At the end of July, while preparing for bed, I was startled by a shriek that sent me scrambling for my wand. Banging and screaming from the sitting room below had me racing for the stairs, descending rapidly, and landing at the bottom ready for battle. Signore Campta, who had been cleaning the kitchen, raced from the other direction toward the noise as well. In the sitting room, Signora Campta was screaming, wielding a broom in the air at an unseen assailant.

"Fuori! Fuori!" she screamed over and over.

Signore Campta and I stopped at the door, afraid to get in her way. We, both, watched as a speckled brown owl rested on the top of the old curio cabinet on the far side of the room.

"Don't just stand there," the Signora called to her husband. "Help me get this thing outside. That's the third owl in the neighbourhood in the past month. They never come into the village!" she cried.

Signore Campta stepped into the sitting room and took the broom from his wife. As he raised it, ready to gently scoop the offending aviary from the house, it took flight and circled over their heads.

"Look, it's carrying something," the Signore said, ducking the diving bird.

I tucked my wand into the folds of my nightdress and entered the room, holding out my arm. The owl flew to me, and upon landing, extended its leg. The envelope appeared quite large and would have been difficult to carry in its beak. I'm surprised it didn't through it off balance. Untying the letter, I quickly thought of an excuse as the Camptas watched in astonishment.

"A friend of mine in Rome trains owls the way one would train carrier pigeons. He finds them cleaner and more reliable, plus they can carry large loads," I explained matter-of-factly.

It seemed to work for they sat together on the sofa watching me deal with the bird. Sitting in the armchair by the hallway, I opened the large envelope to find another one inside. The one inside was addressed to the Minister of Magic, but the name had an ink slash through it, and my name written underneath. Inside the second envelope, the parchments were written in black script and referred to the next envelope. The third was addressed to Mr. Castwell. Mister? I thought, mystified. Opening the final envelope, I found several pieces of paper, not parchment, and they were typed, not in script. Scanning them quickly, then flipping back and reading them more carefully, I was stunned.

"Well?" Signora Campta asked curiously.

I scanned all of the pieces of paper and parchment, once more.

"They've accepted it," was my astonished reply. Rereading the first letter and flipping to the second, I looked up to face my inquisitive friends. "They acknowledged my former education and work history. I've been accepted."

"Been accepted where, cara? Where are you going?" asked a concerned Signore Campta.

"I'm going to Oxford," I replied. "Medical science. Graduate studies. Classes begin at the end of August."

"You're leaving?" Signora Campta sniffed.

"Yes. I think it's time for me to go." I felt a surge of strength and determination as well as sadness as I watched the elderly couple sitting across from me. I had spent three years here, and so much had happened. The waiting was over. It was time to move on, time to create another chapter in my life. Time to leave these memories.

"I'm going to Oxford," I repeated as the reality of it finally setting in. "I'm going to Oxford!"