A/N: For reasons that shall become clear eventually, it seemed best to post this chapter with the last. Many thanks to Melenka and Machshefa. The title translates to "From [Out of] Winter" ~ Ari
37: Ex Hiberna
Alone in perfect whole of gently waving white feathers, the original seed blushed red.
In the pale light of the assembled ghosts, it was exactly the color of Darkness.
Of all of those assembled in the late Horace Slughorn's chambers, Billings was the first to notice that the seed had changed. "Merlin…" he breathed.
The little ghost drew in a startled breath, and reached for Neville.
Before anyone had a chance to react, she had grasped the flower stem and she, Neville, and the dragon were gone, passing through Billings as he stood gaping in the doorway.
A cry from Poppy caught everyone's attention.
Shriver's hand had flashed out and caught her wrist, twisting her arm around behind her. Even now, she was struggling to keep her hold on her wand.
"Sir!" Billings' voice rang with authority. "Stop!"
As quickly as he'd grabbed her, Shriver stopped. "My apologies," he muttered blandly. "I forgot myself."
The young Auror's eyes narrowed. "Sir. What's happened here?"
Shriver adjusted his robes. His efforts to collect his wits read too clearly, and Severus' lips curled into an involuntary sneer. "Nothing," Shriver said finally. "Nothing you need to know about."
Billings looked doubtful. "Excuse me, sir, but this entire situation is beyond my authority, and your move there with the Healer defies procedure." He looked to Poppy. "Are you all right, Madam Pomfrey?"
"Physically I'm quite well, Billings," Poppy huffed, still bristling from Shriver's manhandling. "But this man seems unstable. I suggest," she began, glancing to Severus as if for permission.
Severus nodded slightly.
"I suggest that you have this man evaluated. I quite doubt whether he can be trusted to perform his professional duties. We had to disarm him lest he harm the Professor."
Billings glanced at Hermione, who was standing quietly at Severus' side.
"And her?"
Shriver started to speak, but Billings interrupted him. "I'm sorry, sir; I need to ask you to say nothing further here." Billings looked from Poppy to Severus as if uncertain to whom to address himself. "There's something not right about any of this; I need to report back for orders." He shuddered. "Bleeding ghosts aren't my department."
"Do that," Hermione said quietly. "And make sure you direct that inquiry to the Minister of Magic."
Billings blinked. "Uh… I'll have to speak to my immediate superiors, Professor. Only Department Heads or the Headmaster of Hogwarts can initiate an inquiry at that level."
Poppy reached into her pocket. "If you could perhaps wait a moment, young man. The castle's been making its choice known for the last hour." She drew out Minerva's ring, relighting the lamps.
The ring gleamed softly, its ruby stone glinting deeply in the suddenly warm light. The ghosts hovered at a respectful distance.
"When the ring is in the presence of the castle's choice, it sparks a bit, grows warm, that sort of thing." She looked almost apologetically at Severus. "I'm not certain, Severus, but it seems…"
He swore softly. Over his own voice, he heard Hermione's voice rising in sympathy: "Oh, no."
He looked at her.
"You hate teaching, Severus," she murmured.
"Indeed," he muttered, feeling an echo of an old emptiness growing in his soul.
"You can always say no," Hermione said, and Poppy clucked, "True enough, he can. Minerva did say that if, for whatever reason, the castle's choice didn't wish to serve, a spoken rejection was sufficient. We tried to remember if we'd heard of that happening." The Healer smiled wistfully. "We couldn't. But that doesn't mean anything."
Severus stood silently, his eyes searching Hermione's face. Finally he nodded once. Angrily. "Let's discover the truth of it, then." He reached his hand out for the ring.
He closed his fist around it, and felt it shooting sparks of energy onto his skin, felt the heaviness of its heat in his palm. Blast, he thought, jamming it onto his finger.
It stretched around his finger, having to grow as he slipped it on.
He didn't know what he was expecting, but as the ring settled loosely at the base of his finger, he felt nothing.
---
"Where are we going?" Neville inquired softly, flying after the little ghost as she darted upwards through an arched ceiling.
She flashed a glowing smile over her shoulder and zoomed through a column only to angle outwards toward the large stones marking the castle's giant foundations.
Neville heard the dragon cheeping plaintively far behind them, following them as best as it could on its own more mundane path through the castle.
The tiny ghost slipped through a particularly large stone, and Neville followed.
---
Severus understood the theory behind the ring's connection to the castle – its memories, its secrets, its alignment beneath the stars of the Scottish skies.
He waited to feel something, some corner of his mind alert with curiosity as to what form the sensations of that connection might take.
---
Emerging from the base of the castle into the quiet night, Neville drifted to a halt.
The little ghost was sifting through the snow at the base of Hermione's tower.
In her hands, almost invisible in the moonlight, tiny fragments of blue glass sparkled like bits of fallen sky.
As Neville watched, her small hands scooped a hole in the snow next to the strong vertical stones of the castle. She sprinkled the glass into the hole and, very carefully, she plucked the red seed from the flower stem.
Neville smiled and shook his head. He had no idea what she was on about, but stood bearing mute witness as she planted the red seed in the snow.
A few short moments later and she had refilled the hole and was gently smoothing the snow where the seed lay sleeping.
She carefully backed away, allowing the moonlight to fall full on the seed-bed.
A few moments later, a small tendril emerged from the snow.
Neville felt a small, cool hand slip into his.
He smiled. He didn't know what to believe any more, and found he didn't really mind.
---
What he was feeling, Severus realised, was nothing.
The ring was just a hair too big – too big by the most invisible of margins.
He felt a tightness release from his chest.
Not him, after all.
He eyed Shriver speculatively, allowing a hint of triumph into his voice as he smiled a stark smile.
"The new Head will indeed contact the Minister," he said smoothly.
Billings nodded. "I'll just take Mr Shriver to the Ministry and await further instructions, then." He turned to escort the Unspeakable from the castle.
"A moment, Billings," Severus said, and the younger man turned, instinctively obeying the note of command in his voice. "Do collect your colleagues from the Head's office," Severus continued. "It's traditional for a new Head to discuss the state of the school with the portraits, and such conversations are confidential." He smiled. "Procedure. You understand, I'm sure."
Billings nodded sharply. "Of course." He took Shriver from the room.
Hermione waited for the door to close before turning to Severus with skeptical eyes.
Before she could speak, Poppy spoke briskly. "Whatever's between you two, settle it out of my sickroom. I have arrangements to make for poor Horace, and this is still – at last – a place of rest. We in the Healing profession have our own protocols, and his respects have been delayed long enough. Baron, if you'll assist me…"
Severus offered Hermione his arm, keeping the ring on his finger with his thumb.
---
As Neville and the tiny ghost watched, the tendril reached for the moonlit sky.
Leaves unfurled.
The tendril waved lightly in a gentle swirl of snow, a slow bud forming at the tip of the stem.
Neville glanced at the smaller ghost. Her eyes were shining in the moonlight, and her smile warmed his soul.
---
The gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the spiraling staircase regarded Severus and Hermione speculatively, eyeing the ring on Severus' hand curiously.
"Paradox," Severus suggested to it, and it rustled its wings, considering. Finally, it nodded, moving aside to reveal the entrance to the stair.
Hermione watched Severus out of the corner of her eye.
His face revealed nothing, but his eyes were determined.
---
A single flower bloomed in the snow.
Its petals were exactly the color of moonlight.
At its center, a single, faint blush of pink.
"Wild," Neville breathed.
The wee ghost squeezed his hand, giggling silently.
Her hand within his was the only part of her that did not blur.
---
They entered the Head's office to the echoes of the stone gargoyle grinding closed on the floor below them.
"Ah, Severus," Minerva said. "I see you've succeeded." She smiled at Hermione. "I'm sorry, dear." Hecate jumped up onto her lap and started kneading at her robes.
Hermione looked at her former headmistress' portrait.
Hecate blinked at her and yawned, butting her head into Minerva's hand.
"I don't really know what to say, Minerva," Hermione said quietly. "I assume you know what really happened in Godric's Hollow?"
"Yes, dear. Severus explained how your research had cued him to the possibility that things did not go quite as we'd all believed, and your… hm… condition, I suppose…" Minerva looked at the younger woman, and resettled herself in her chair.
Hecate glared at her mistress, keeping purchase with her claws.
"But there will be plenty of time to discuss that later. For now, know that I'm sorry – we didn't know, dear – and allow me to thank you. It was a marvelous thing you did, child."
"I echo Minerva's thanks," said a quite voice, a rasp of old parchment from farther up the wall.
Hermione's eyes sought Dumbledore's portrait, and she felt Severus tense beside her.
"But –"
"Hush, Albus," Minerva snapped.
"But I maintain…"
"Albus." Minerva glared upward as if in silent threat.
"I maintain that Harry must never know."
Minerva turned in her chair, dislodging Hecate, who stalked off. "The child is old enough to make her own decisions, Albus, without further meddling from you."
"Heeding the wisdom of those who have gone before," Albus intoned, "is a humility many of us learned too late."
"And she learned it far too soon," Severus countered, his voice laced with a hint of danger.
"If you would all stop speaking of me as though I'm not present," Hermione said, "Severus, I believe you have something that belongs to me?"
Albus' mouth snapped shut, and Minerva's eyes sparkled.
Hermione extended her hand calmly.
Severus looked at her seriously. "You knew?"
"Of course. You didn't quite lie – but close enough. Slytherins do that, you know. You develop an ear for it after a while; after that, it's obvious. It's not you; it's not Poppy. It must be me."
Severus eased the ring off his finger then hesitated. "May I?"
She nodded, swallowing hard.
He slipped the ring onto her finger, and it shrank snugly, nestling home.
A sigh rose from the depths of the castle.
Its long wait was over.
For the first time since the rise of Voldemort, the Sorting Hat relaxed.