Chapter 54

Death comes for all.

As an unwelcome guest or a longed-for old friend, it comes. Sometimes it's kept at bay, but it cannot be avoided indefinitely. It comes for all. It bends for no one. You may hide from it, trick it, but in the end, it will find you. Ordinarily, no one knows when the silhouette of the Taker Of Life will be seen there in the doorway, with the darkness behind him. Death is a surprise for most. The bad omens exist and the future is skewed and unclear, but no one knows for sure. No one really knows when they are going to die.

Except for Lucinda Morgan.

She knew it the moment her eyes met the crystal, blue ones across the room. They looked back at her with a finality and a sadness in them. She saw the forming of an apology in their relaxed pupils. What was most alarming was the complete acceptance she saw in his gaze. He'd already known there was no hope the moment the room was destroyed. A man of constant thought and realizations, he'd already worked out her tragic end. But he didn't say anything. He spoke calmly to the man who worked desperately to save her. He would wait until she was gone. He would allow the Potions Master to believe that there was hope, until that hope had faded with the light in the girl's eyes.

So, now of course, Lucinda was gone; and it was as natural as anything that existed in this world. She'd been cursed at birth and perhaps long before that. She was of the few that had been hiding from Death for far longer than Fate had wanted her to and now they were just collecting on their debt: that she never should have existed in the first place. She'd escaped her fate several times (and more times than she even knew), but... you cannot hide from Death.

And Lucinda knew it the moment her heartbeat felt faint in her chest, that she was finally doing what was expected of her: to die.

It was alright, because he was there. She felt at peace, because there was trust and compassion in his gaze. He was there with her and if she was going to die, she was happy that it was going to be in his arms, as selfish as it was; because, even in that moment, if she was completely honest with herself... she knew he'd be alright. She'd die and he'd feel responsible, but there wouldn't be lasting damage. She wasn't that significant in his life. Not anymore... This was something he'd be able to move on from and she guessed that was also a comfort to her.

So, with that contentment, she was happy to fade away right there; while his soft touch was on her and he was full of concern and affection. She closed her eyes, a slight smile on her lips, her heart full. And Death did take her...

At least... she thought it had.

So, you can imagine her complete surprise at waking up in what appeared to be an ordinary bed. Not drifting between realms of limbo or the ethereal plains, but absolutely alive and staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, she couldn't tell if it was early dawn or the tail-end of some winter day, because the light was so dim. Before anything else, she had to get a hold of her reality again, because for the first moments she was conscious, she couldn't remember anything. She didn't know what had happened or why she was in a foreign place.

She blinked slowly, as her eyes adjusted, but she still had no idea where she was. The first thing her mind latched onto was sitting at dinner in the Great Hall with Rorie... Or was it breakfast? Had she gone to sleep that night? She imagined she had, but she couldn't recall for sure. Had she served her last detention? What had she done in that last hour?

Then the light in her subconscious blinked on and she felt her mind tugging towards potions. Something about that was important, but it was like it was on the edge of her vision, just out of reach. Her mind raced to find meaning, but at the sound of someone's sudden whisper, it started to come back to her.

"It's better today." Said a male voice to her left; Lucinda's heavy eyes shifted in that direction.

With a jolt in her stomach, there stood the white-haired Borealis boy. His back was leaned against a window, with early morning light pouring through. The right side of his face was lit in filtered dawn glimmers, as he held a tea cup to his lips. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his mouth held a gentle smile, as he stared at someone at the foot of her bed.

"Is that because you didn't make it?" Came the unmistakable voice of her mother. Lucinda's eyes shifted to the back of the woman. She was sitting on the left side of the bed, her own cup in her hand.

Then there was a gentle laugh from Clover. "Well, Mrs. Morgan, I see where Lucy gets her humor from."

"That would be her father, actually." Her mother said with her own soft laugh.

"Yes, no kidding." Her father's voice suddenly joined in and Lucinda could see just the top of his head peaking out from the other side of her mother. He was facing the girl, but he sat a few feet away from them—presumably in a chair near the far wall—and he couldn't see her face. "You're lucky she even cracks a smile now, my Judith. She was a right stick-in-the-mud at Hogwarts."

"Joseph—"

"Oh honey, it's true," Mr. Morgan whispered back incredulously. "It took me seven years to win you over!"

"So you guys met at Hogwarts?" Clover asked, taking a sip from his cup. The girl looked over at the boy again.

"Isn't that where everyone meets?" Lucinda's father pondered with a childlike innocence.

Clover just gave a small smile and returned the cup to his lips, blowing across the surface of the liquid distractedly.

"He was incredibly annoying, but also wonderfully charming," Mrs. Morgan reminisced quietly. "But I was so focused on my studies, that I couldn't be bothered with him for the longest time..."

Clover looked like he might want to offer the man an apologetic look, but Lucinda imagined her father was already staring over at his wife with unabashed affection in his eyes, based on his tone of voice. "No worries. I knew you'd come around eventually, my dear."

The woman paused to drink from her steaming cup and nodded a little. "Yes, well, I might have gave in a little sooner if others hadn't made it so impossible."

The boy by the window was grinning wide at their antics, but at the last statement his face fell subtly into a questioning stance. He opened his mouth to inquire further, but his eyes shifted to the girl in the bed and locked with hers. He froze, his cup halfway to his lips, and his gaze widened.

Lucinda wasn't sure she was even ready for what might happen next. There was a split second that she desperately wanted to share a wordless moment with the boy and somehow let him know she didn't want anyone realizing she was awake yet, but it was obviously too late. Her parents must have been completely on their guard, because even the tiniest hint of something changing in Clover's gaze sent them into instant attack-mode.

Mrs. Morgan whipped her head around to stare at the girl and Mr. Morgan shot up from his spot at the wall. Her parents stared long and hard at her, almost in disbelief that her eyes were open. Silence fell on the room as they all watched her and it wasn't until she cleared her throat and mumbled a nervous, "um—hi—" that they became mobile again with sudden cries of relief.

"Lucinda!" Mrs. Morgan let go of her cup of tea and it shattered on the floor, as she flung herself at her daughter. Her father was right behind the woman and for once Lucinda didn't see a smile on his face.

"You're awake." The man dropped to his knees at her bedside, cupping his hands beneath her jaw (Mrs. Morgan had her arms around the girl's neck, hugging her fiercely). "Oh, thank Merlin you're awake, Lucy Girl!"

A vision of cold, black eyes erupted in her memory; a merciless cackling filled her senses and she felt her mind detaching from reality. She felt his foot pressing down on her shin, sending streaks of pain up her leg. She felt her back pressed against him, his hand around her throat, the wands slicing so easily into her—

Lucinda let out a whimper and her parents instantly pulled away from the bed, afraid that they'd hurt her.

"Lucinda—" Her mother stared into her face, concern and panic overtaking her delicate features. "Are you alright?"

"Are you okay, Lucy?" Her father asked quickly, crouching down again to stare up at her. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?"

Lucinda had placed a hand to her forehead. "No..." she swallowed thickly and shook her head. "No-no, I'm alright. Just... just trying to... get my wits about me."

"I'm going to get the healers." Mrs. Morgan said instantly, wrapping her fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck (much like Lucinda would do in moments of distress). "Oh—right." She added with a nervous look at her daughter. "You must be terribly confused. You're at St. Mungo's Hospital, dear, understand? You're... you're alright. You're safe now. Joseph?" She looked at her husband, eyebrows knit together. "Please, come with me. I never understand what they're talking about. Help me speak with them."

The man looked up at her, hesitating only for a moment, a shadow of exasperation passing over his face, but it only lasted just the moment and it was gone; he nodded. Then he stood up, placing a hand on his daughter's cheek. "Be right back, sweetie," he said gently and kissed her forehead. "Everything's alright." He looked at her seriously, though there was obvious fear in his voice. "Everything is going to be alright. You're safe."

Then she watched her parents nearly run from the room, in search of the healers. When they'd gone, Lucinda finally returned her gaze to the boy who still stood motionless by the window. He'd not said a word, but he'd set his cup down on the windowsill. He now stood with his arms hugging his midsection lazily and a squinting smile on his face.

"Lucy, you bloody brilliant girl," he said with such tenderness in his golden eyes, that she had a hard time believing he was really saying it to her. Regardless, she couldn't help the tug at the corner of her lips at his blissful face. She had no idea why he was there, but his happiness made her calmer than she felt only seconds before.

"What do you mean?" She asked, slowly pushing herself up to a sitting position (she felt a dull ache in her abdomen and leg, but it wasn't terrible). "What—what happened?"

"You don't remember?" The boy's happy features shifted just slightly at her words. "About... about what happened at the apothecary?"

Lucinda faltered. Of course, she knew. She'd remembered everything once she'd heard Clover's voice. But what happened in that storeroom... It was not something to be happy about. Lucinda felt a sudden lurch in her stomach at the thought that Clover didn't know; that he was falsely believing that Gabe... that Gabe hadn't...

The girl found herself shaking her head slowly, brown eyes going slightly wider at the boy. "Clover..."

"What's wrong?" He pushed off from the window and took several steps towards her, silvery mohawk swaying at his movements. "You actually don't remember anything?"

She couldn't say it. How could she tell him? She thought he would have found out by now... But when was 'now', anyway? How long had she been out...?

"Clover, I have to tell you," she said and couldn't help but look away from his curious face. "Gabriel..." She said the boy's name and had to compose herself. "He... Tristin tried to attack me and Gabe—"

"Oh, goodness, you do remember." Clover cut her off with a sigh. He sunk down onto the side of the bed and looked at her with a nervous laugh. "I thought you'd lost your memory. I was afraid I was going to have to tell you everything that happened—and considering I wasn't there, I was probably going to mess up some of the details that Snape relayed."

"Snape?" Lucinda's thoughts of Gabe were momentarily pushed to the back burner. "You... You talked to Professor Snape?"

"Mhm," Clover nodded, eyebrows raised knowingly. "He got here not long after I arrived. I was in the visitors lounge, just sort of hanging around, because they wouldn't let me back with Gabby and here comes Professor Snape, bursting through the entrance doors, sopping wet with snow and holding you in his arms. I'm not gonna lie, I thought you were dead. Goodness, I thought you were dead at the apothecary, which led me to kind of tell everyone you were dead—what? What's wrong?" He paused at the look on her face.

"Gabriel..." Lucinda's voice shook, as she stared intensely at the boy. "Did you say... you were here with Gabriel?"

Clover's eyebrow rose up questioningly and then his mouth pulled to the side in a half-grin. "Yep." He said with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I brought Gabby here. He was barely breathing, but I got him here, oh yes."

A bud of hope blossomed in Lucinda's chest. She leaned forward and asked, "He's... He's alive?" She dared not even think it, but she couldn't help feeling her mood lightening at his face.

Clover grinned wider. "Thanks to you."

Now Lucinda was taken aback. She turned her head just slightly away from him, eyes searching his expression. "What?" She asked, genuinely confused. "No." She shook her head. "No, see, I put him in danger. I-I was the reason he became Tristin's 'collateral damage'. He shouldn't have been there—"

Clover shrugged her statements off and swatted a hand at her. "That wasn't your fault. Tristin turned out to be an absolute nutter. Everyone was in danger when it came to that guy. And Gabby turned out to be a lot more selfless than I thought possible for him, honestly." He leaned towards her and cupped a hand around his mouth, whispering, "Don't tell him I said this, but he's always been a bit selfish." Then he laughed lightly and straightened back up, regarding the girl with another satisfied look. "Who knew he'd take a bloody curse for you?"

Lucinda stared at the boy's happy face a moment longer. He seemed so absolutely sure of everything in that moment. Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself nodding in agreement. "Yeah..." she said faintly. "He was brilliant."

"Bloody brilliant." Clover nodded back, still smiling proudly and crossed his arms over his chest. "And you, as well, Lucy!" He said in joyous astonishment. "You brilliant girl, you saved his life, too!"

Lucinda spoke faintly again, "I... I did?"

"Well, of course!" Clover beamed and coincidentally a ray of sunshine spread over his face, as the rising sun shone through the window. "You put out the fire, Lucy. You used your impossible strength of magic and you saved Gabby."

She couldn't believe it. Gabe was alive. All along... All along she thought—

"I thought he was dead." Lucinda shook her head again and her eyes watered. "I thought it was too late. I thought..."

"I thought so, too." Clover's grinning mouth shrank down to a modest smile—a slightly sad one. "Believe me, I thought he was gone the moment I laid eyes on that horrible sight on the floor." He looked away from her, as his voice suddenly turned solemn and he stared straight out the window into the blinding sun. His irises sparkled and cast tiny prisms on the walls. "For a moment, my life was over. For a moment, I felt the weight of the world's anguish on my shoulders, as I thought of spending even one day without Gabby on this Earth... Snape must have felt the same."

"Huh?" The girl's face was back to confusion at the mention of her professor again. "Professor Snape?"

The Borealis boy sighed in thought and trailed his eyes down to stare at a spot on the floor. "Well, I'll be honest, I was a little preoccupied with Gabby and whether or not he was dead, but even I noticed how completely destroyed Professor Snape was over losing you."

Lucinda's head felt light with confusion and anxiety, and she gripped tightly onto the blankets over her legs. "What?" She muttered.

"Even after saving you, his mood hardly changed." The boy continued and folded one leg over the other, fingers lacing over his knee. "He still seemed so distraught. I've never seen him so morose before. Actually, I've never seen him sad, ever."

"He..." Lucinda's gaze wandered somewhere across the white room. "He was sad?"

"Well, of course he was." Clover scoffed good-naturedly. "You'd just died in his arms—well—" he squinted sideways at her and Lucinda was instantly reminded of Aurora— "Almost died. You're alive, obviously. But your brush with death really took that man down a few notches. He even told me about everything that happened in the apothecary before I got there. And we all know Snape is not one to share, let's be honest. He might have even let me delve a little deeper during our conversation, but by then your parents had arrived and your dad punched him in the face."

"What?!"

Clover frowned sideways at her this time. "Bollocks, maybe I should have led with that."

~

Lucinda and Clover's conversation was cut short when her parents came back in with the healers and then it was several hours before she could talk to him again. He left the room soon after one of the staff members began a long inquiry into how she was feeling and what she remembered. She stole glances at her dad every so often, trying to imagine the gentle man clocking her Professor. It seemed almost impossible, but Clover swore it happened.

"You were supposed to protect her!" Her father had apparently yelled over their teacher on the floor. "You bastard! You absolute bastard!"

Now her father stood at her bedside, eyes and smile gentle and happy; speaking excitedly with the healers at the news that she would not have any lasting damages from the unfortunate events. Her mother sat snuggled up next to her on the bed, hand running through her daughter's hair affectionately.

"But how did I survive?" Lucinda asked after she'd been given the run-down on her nearly-stable condition. "It... It really felt like I was going to die. It felt like I died." She ignored her mother's winces every time she mentioned her death and instead focused on what the healer said next.

"It was a blood replenisher." The man said matter-of-fact. "You had one in your robes. It kept you alive just long enough to get you here."

Lucinda thought back to the flask she'd put in her pocket upon her professor's request. She'd forgotten all about it. The man had been right, after all. He was right to be cautious and prepared for anything that might happen. What if he hadn't made them all brew defensive potions that day? What if she hadn't made that exact potion or agreed to take it with her?

No matter what way you looked at it or in which instance, he always saved her. When it came down to it, he was the reason she was alive.

"What..." Lucinda began, suddenly remembering a big part of the whole scene at Jasper's. "What happened to Tristin?"

Mrs. Morgan's hand stopped stroking her daughter's hair and she stiffened against her. "You don't need to worry about him anymore, Lucinda." She said a little angrily. "He's locked up in Azkaban."

"S-so, he's alive?" She said a little breathlessly and then added in a mumble, "thank goodness."

Her mother shot up from her lounging position to gaze incredulously at her. "Daughter of mine, do not tell me you actually still care about that—"

"Oh my god," Lucinda's hands snapped up to press into her temples. "Mother, of course not. I'm just relieved that Professor Snape didn't end up killing him."

"What would that matter?" Her father suddenly asked in a voice so unlike his own. She met his hardening gaze and felt a chill run up her spine.

"Well, if he'd killed him..." The girl spoke cautiously, but honestly. "He'd be in Azkaban, too."

She watched as her father's face sunk down into a glower. He didn't even look like himself. "So?" He said condescendingly.

Despite his frightening demeanor, Lucinda couldn't stop herself from defending her teacher. "What do you mean, 'so'? He doesn't deserve to go to Azkaban."

"Really." Mr. Morgan stated skeptically. "From what I've heard, Azkaban sounds like the perfect place for him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucinda snapped and she felt her mother's disapproving gaze on her.

Her father kept their eyes locked indefinitely. "He's a bloody bastard, is what it means." He growled.

~

Her professor wasn't brought up again. Lucinda was livid by the end of their conversation—if you could call it that—and she was more than happy to receive a dose of sleeping draught, because then she could get away from her father's wrath (which she had never had to deal with before). He hadn't even explained himself, either. She couldn't imagine why he'd be so angry at the man who saved her life. But that became apparent when she spoke with Clover again that night, after her parents had gone to bed in the visitor's lounge.

"Well, it's no secret that Samael's motives were because of his hatred for Professor Snape." The boy lay in her bed next to her, hands folded behind his head, as he stared up at the ceiling. "Everyone's heard about it by now. Well, I think Professor Dumbledore kept it under wraps when it came to the students, so they don't really know, but the teachers know a great deal and your parents..." He trailed off and glanced at her a little warily. "Well, your parents were made quite aware of some... details."

Lucinda's brain started firing off in different directions, automatically trying to decipher what that could possibly mean. She slowly shook her head at him and whispered, "Details? What kind of details?"

Clover still regarded her warily, as he said slowly, "Well... I thought it was... interesting that Professor Snape was so attached to you. There were plenty of times he didn't treat you like a student. There were times he acted so protective of you and it was sort of obvious that he hated seeing you with Samael..." He trailed off again, almost expectantly and Lucinda just stared back at him in astonishment.

"What?" She said quickly. "What are you getting at?"

Clover looked a little sheepish, as his eyes trailed down to the socks on his feet. "Well, who cries so despairingly over a mere student?" He whispered and his mouth curled up just slightly.

Lucinda re-positioned herself to stare directly at the boy, folding her legs under her as she sat facing him. "He cried?" She whispered back with surprise. "Professor Snape?"

Clover nodded with a knowing pout to his lips and then he looked at her again with raised brow. "So, even I had my suspicions..."

The girl swallowed and felt her stomach flip. "What do you mean?"

The boy glanced around the ceiling lazily, as if thinking about it, and then caught her eye again. "Weeell..." He said with a nervous smile. "Turns out your parents had more than suspicions. They had facts."

"Clover..." There was warning in Lucinda's voice.

Clover's nervous smile grew to an almost apologetic one. "You kissed her?" He said, strangely mimicking her father's voice. "You're her teacher and you fucking kissed her?"

Lucinda's whole body went cold like ice. Her brain didn't register what he'd said. Her voice shook as she spoke. "What?"

"Your dad said that right before he landed one right on our professor's cheek." Clover patted his own cheek and sighed. "It was like right out of daytime muggle television."

"Oh my god." Lucinda covered her face in embarrassment and horror. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD!"

"And Snape?" Clover continued easily. "He wasn't even mad. He didn't retaliate one bit. He just stayed there on the floor, groveling at your parents' feet, just apologizing over and over again."

"This can't be happening." Lucinda muttered into her hands, voice breathless. "There's no way this is happening."

"Your dad was furious, though. He didn't care that he'd saved your life. He had the hospital throw him out right then and there."

"They threw him out?" Lucinda suddenly felt her anger rear up, as she dropped her hands back down. "What the hell for?"

"He was your teacher, Lucy." Clover sat up and shrugged helplessly. "You can't blame them for losing their minds after finding out he'd been more than that."

"Oh, how does anyone even know any of that is true?!" She threw a hand in the air and growled, but her anger diminished just as quickly as it came, as she realized the full extent of what her friend had just said. "Wait, 'was'? What do you mean, he was my teacher?"

The boy's apologetic look stayed on his face as he grimaced at her. "Well, you couldn't really expect Dumbledore to keep him employed, could you?" He ruffled the top of his hair distractedly and chewed his lip. "Obviously, he was fired."

~

Lucinda spent the next few days finishing her recovery at the hospital. Apparently, she'd already been there for three days, though she'd been unconscious. Clover was still there, as well, because he was waiting for Gabe to make it through his own recovery—though the extent of his wounds was severe (enough so that he hadn't been conscious longer than a few minutes at a time) and it seemed as though he'd be in there for the long haul. Clover wasn't going back to school. He was staying right there with Gabriel.

"I don't need to go back, anyway." He told her, as he sat in her window and painted his nails blue. "It's our last year. It's not like I'm required to be there in order to graduate. My marks are good enough, as it is."

Lucinda didn't need to go back, either, but she absolutely wanted to. This was her only year at that school and she'd never be able to go back again. An entire week of classes had already passed while she'd been at St. Mungo's. She could hardly let her mind drift even a little bit in that direction, because all she could think about was the fact that her potions professor had been sacked...

He'd be gone by now, she imagined. His office would be empty. Maybe his classroom would even be closed, while they searched for his replacement. How was she going to go back there and pretend like everything was fine? Everything wasn't fine. She'd been kidnapped, assaulted and nearly murdered; she'd witnessed one of her friends burned alive; and now her parents knew she'd had more than a professional relationship with her teacher at one point or another. Did that also mean that others knew? Was she just setting herself up for inevitable gossip if she went back?

The thought of walking into Hogwarts and having everyone stare at her and whisper was such a possible outcome, that she almost wasn't even nervous about it. It was inevitable. She was sure they'd all heard everything by now; and if they hadn't, their imaginations would run wild and outlandish rumors would spread. They were going to talk. They were going to stare. They were going to think horrible things... But even so, she wanted to go back.

Her parents were against it, though. They looked close to exploding when she brought it up. They had just assumed she'd be going home with them and not back to the place that was nearly the death of her. She knew they were just scared, but honestly, wasn't the danger over? Hadn't they caught the bad guy? Tristin was in Azkaban. There was no one left that she feared...

"How many times must you come to the brink of death, before you finally realize that you shouldn't be in that place?" Her mother argued with her. "Once, Lucinda. It should only be once and you narrowly escaped death twice while there."

More than twice, actually, Lucinda thought shamefully. "Why did you let me go in the first place, then?" The girl asked. She'd asked this already (several times), but the subject was always changed.

Her mother pursed her lips, as she hooked an arm through the girl's elbow, helping her to stand. "You wanted to go, so we let you go."

The events of the last week had rendered Lucinda without filter or regret and she tried to pull her arm out of her mother's grasp. "You know, you get mad at me for keeping secrets, but you're just the same—" she glared at the side of her face— "You've kept secrets from me." She looked at her father, as he joined her other side, looping his arm through the crook of her elbow. "Both of you."

"We were never mad at you, Lucinda." Mr. Morgan said gently, ignoring the rest of her projections. "We were mad at your professor."

"Again, with this—" Lucinda growled and struggled to get out of their clutch. "He didn't do anything—"

"He absolutely did!" Her father became furious in an instant and pulled her arm so that she faced him. "He took advantage of you!"

"You act like I had no say in the matter!" Lucinda matched his angry expression, as she stared up at him and her mother clutched her arm silently. "I did it! It was me! I kissed him!"

"When?" Her father snapped.

Lucinda hardened her gaze. "Depends on which time." She snapped back.

He looked ready to have a brain aneurysm at her words. His face grew purple with fury and he abruptly turned on the spot, stomping angrily out of the hospital room.

Lucinda sunk back onto her bed again, breathing heavily (either from the situation or the weakness in her legs). Her mother sighed sadly at her and the girl stared back, unflinching.

"I'm going back." She said defiantly. "You cannot stop me."

Mrs. Morgan watched her daughter for a moment and then she shook her head in a dismissive manner. "I know that." There was the inclination that she was going to elaborate, but in the end she said nothing more. She just let out another troubled breath and stared out the window, as a few winter birds flew by.

~

Her discharge day came and she'd hardly spoken a word to her parents. She saw Clover one last time, before she left. She stood with him at her hospital room window, as they watched the afternoon sun making its descent to the horizon. Her mother and father collected aftercare paperwork and anesthetic tonics from the healers at the check-out desk.

"Still no definitive answers about Gabe's condition?" Lucinda asked quietly.

Clover leaned his forehead against the window and huffed a breath out that fogged the glass. "Not really. It wasn't normal fire. His wounds aren't healing like they should be."

Something in his voice made her worry. She glanced at him and saw his eyes lowered to his hands on the windowsill. She saw him swallow and her worry climbed just a little higher. "What is it?" She asked even quieter. "What are they saying?"

The boy's lips trembled for the smallest of seconds and then he straightened them into a sad smile, as he rolled his forehead away from the glass to look at her. "They say... that most likely... he isn't going to heal."

Lucinda's eyebrows came together and guilt filled every corner of her mind. "What?"

"At least, not in the usual sense." Clover sighed, almost as if he were frustrated more than anything. "If this was a muggle hospital, he'd be dead, so at least he's alive and he won't necessarily be in excruciating pain everyday or anything, but he... he will be in some pain. They don't think it'll ever completely go away. And his scars..."

Scars.

"Those will never go away, either."

The guilt was building into something more. It was drowning out anything else. She felt like she couldn't breathe. "But..." She tried speaking, but her throat was tight and it was hard to get the words out. "We have... magic." She said it so bewildered and confused that Clover gave her a sympathetic smile that she felt she really didn't deserve.

"I know." He said gently and then shook his head. "They've tried magic, Lucy. Of course, they've tried it. But the curse Samael used was... Well, no one recognizes it and it was obviously extremely dark magic."

"So, that's it?" Lucinda questioned, with her own shake of the head. "They can't do anything about his scars? H-How bad are they?"

Clover stared at her a moment, as if he was really thinking about it, and then he looked out the window again. "I don't know," he said softly, with a bitter scoff. "I haven't seen them. He's been bandaged up this whole time." She saw him swallow again. He opened his mouth, but then he swallowed two more times before he spoke again. "He's blind." He finally added in a shaky whisper.

Lucinda couldn't have responded to this even if they'd not been interrupted. Her mind reeled. Her self-loathing reached an all-time high. She'd ruined so many lives...

"Mr. Borealis..."

The boy looked over his shoulder and for a moment Lucinda just stared at his hands still on the windowsill.

"May I have a moment to speak with Miss Morgan alone?"

The girl slowly registered the voice and turned to look, as well.

"Professor Dumbledore," Clover said in surprise. "Hi. Yes, of-of course you can."

"Headmaster..." Lucinda gazed in astonishment at the white-bearded wizard standing in the doorway. She expected her parents to be standing just behind him, but they weren't. She could just make out their forms still lingering at the check-out desk, but they didn't seem to be talking with any of the staff. They stood and stared at each other. Their lips moved in quiet conversation, as her mother held the tonics to her chest and her father held the paperwork to his.

"I should get back to Gabby, anyway. Lucy..."

Lucinda tore her gaze from the doorway and looked at her friend.

"If I don't see you again before you leave..." Clover smiled affectionately at her. "Thank you again. I mean it. Don't punish yourself... See ya." He waved and then walked out of the room. Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder as he passed through the doorway and then the Headmaster fixed the girl still standing at the window with a careful gaze.

"Lucinda..." He said heavily (everything about him was always heavy; his entire presence made the room feel weighted down). "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." She said in a half committed way. Dumbledore could sense her feelings instantly, or more so he could plainly see them on her face and hear them in her voice. Perhaps he already knew she'd be feeling such a way... She sounded apologetic.

The Headmaster finished his slow, gliding steps into the room. When he reached the window, he gave her a small smile and then stared out at the surrounding landscape. "I've never liked hospitals," he admitted conversationally, after a moment passed between them in silence. "Been in them more than a few times in my life and they were never pleasant experiences..."

The girl didn't say anything. She stared half-confused, half-fascinated that the man was standing there having a pleasant chat with her, as if nothing had happened. She couldn't help what she said next, having lost her filter somewhere in her subconscious.

"Why are you here?"

The Headmaster's lips twitched to the side and he glanced down at her in his peripheral vision. "Well, I came to see how you were, of course, Miss Morgan."

Lucinda's eyes wandered away from his face and stared at the hands he had folded in front of him. "I'm... fine?" She said slowly, sounding much more as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact.

"Glad to hear it." He said with a genuine smile in his voice. "I expect you'll be heading back to school, then?"

Her heart thumped a bit faster as she thought about it. "Yes, if... if I'm allowed to?" She looked up at him questioningly.

"Well, of course, you're allowed to." He laughed and returned her gaze with another smile. "Why wouldn't you be allowed?"

She shrugged a little, feeling over-whelmed and intimidated by his presence. "Because of... things that happened."

Dumbledore frowned slightly in thought and raised a long-fingered hand to his chin. "Nothing that was your fault, though. Many things that were out of your control."

"Do you really believe that?" Lucinda whispered after a moment.

She watched the man's contemplative expression shift so slowly and subtly, that if she hadn't been right in front of him, she may have missed it. He pursed his lips ever so gently and sank his eyes down to stare at her. He had a mysterious glint in his piercing gaze. It was that mystery that made her ask the question that she was desperate to learn the answer to.

"Did you really fire him?"

The Headmaster's face turned fully to face her and she saw him give an unmistakable smirk. It was as if he was waiting for this precise shift in conversation. He seemed almost pleased. "Of course, I did." He said, face unchanging. "Wouldn't you?"

She opened her mouth to say 'no', but then closed it again. She would, wouldn't she? If she was in the Headmaster's position... She settled for another shrug, because she couldn't bring herself to actually say it.

"It wasn't without regret, though." Dumbledore continued honestly and kept her regard. "He's vital to the school. He's important beyond what he can even comprehend."

The amount of remorse soaking every ounce of her being was incredible. She wouldn't be able to look in the mirror for months. She grimaced slightly at the Headmaster. "If he's so important, then can't you just... not fire him?"

"I have considered letting him slide with his actions, based solely on the fact that I need him..." Dumbledore surprisingly admitted, almost as if this too was a line of questioning he expected. "But... Who's to say it won't happen again?"

Lucinda felt her face flush with embarrassment. "Um..." She mumbled, her throat going impossibly tight again. "What exactly—"

"I will not fire him." Dumbledore cut her off with a sudden firm proclamation.

She stared back with wider eyes. She felt the beginnings of relief that only lasted a moment.

"But, you must do something for me." He continued and any shadow of a smile was gone from his face. His eyes were the most intense she'd ever seen them. "Everything rests on this and I hope that you make the right decision."

~

They rode the train. Lucinda wasn't confident enough to apparate at the present moment and she really didn't want to fly on a broom all the way back to Hogwarts with the way her leg still ached if in one position too long. Her parents sat across from her, as they made their way to one of the train stations in Edinburgh, where they would part ways (her parents heading back home and she back to school). They didn't talk for most of the ride. Lucinda was still in a sense of shock, but she was slowly making her way to acceptance. It was just hard... because she'd never had to do something like this before. She wasn't sure she'd be able to. Her parents knew what was happening, but—although her mother was very gentle with her—her father still could not completely forgive what had happened. His angry demeanor was gone, but he was completely silent for nearly the entire ride to the station. Lucinda just stared out the window at the passing snow-covered hills and houses.

At one point, her father left to buy them dinner at the back of the train and then it was just her mother that sat staring worriedly at her.

"You can't blame him for being upset..." The woman said gently, as a way of opening up a line of communication with her daughter.

Lucinda kept her eyes on the blurred landscape. "I know." She said quietly. "I don't."

The conversation seemed to be closed the moment it opened. Judi Morgan wrung her hands in her lap, as she stared at the girl across from her. After a moment, she'd made a decision and she followed through with it before she could change her mind.

"Do you know why your father took my last name when we got married?"

That got Lucinda out of her thoughts just a little. She glanced quickly at her mother and then returned her gaze to the scene beyond the train window. "To stick it to his family?"

Mrs. Morgan smirked slightly and glanced at her lap. "Well, maybe in a way..." The woman mumbled and then looked up at her daughter again. "But it ran deeper than that. He wasn't just a rebellious child. I mean, you know that. There's a reason you've never met any of them. He didn't want anything to do with them."

Lucinda nodded. "I know."

"But he also didn't want them to have anything to do with you."

The girl finally looked at her mother and kept her gaze there. "Why? Just because they're a 'bunch of A-holes'?"

Judi wrung her hands again and glanced out the window for a moment. "If it was just bad attitudes, I could handle it..." She looked deep in thought and then returned her attention to the girl in front of her. "But they never wanted us to be together. It was bad enough that your father was placed into Hufflepuff. They were furious with that, alone. Imagine an eleven year old, made to feel like he was worthless, just because of the Hogwarts House he was placed in. That's Slytherin-loving, pure-bloods for you, right?"

Lucinda didn't respond. She just watched her mother with surprise and interest.

"And then he met me: a muggle-born Ravenclaw, without an ounce of magical blood in my heritage. Can you imagine it?"

Lucinda shook her head gently.

"That's why I didn't give in to him," Mrs. Morgan said a little sadly, thinking of it. "Blimey, I wanted to... He was so funny and so kind and... I didn't want to come between him and his family. I was frightened of them. There was so much hate in their eyes at the sight of me. It was the only time I met them. I'd finally agreed to give your father a chance and with his words of reassurance, we tried to meet them for dinner during Christmas break in our Seventh Year."

"What happened?" Lucinda asked when she paused.

Mrs. Morgan shrugged a little helplessly. "What do you think happened?" She sighed. "They wouldn't even let me in the front door. They said terrible things about me. They threatened to banish your father completely from the family and he didn't care, of course. Because at that point, they'd made me cry and I had never cried in front of him before. Not once. He was furious and it was the first time I'd seen him that way. He swore that he'd never return and he was going to remove any mark of their bloodline from his existence. Hence, why he took my name and why you've never met them."

The girl crossed a leg over the other and her arms over her chest. "I can't imagine my own family treating me that way. Dad was right to cut them off."

Judi nodded. "He was. And for a moment we were free to love each other." The woman paused and her chin trembled slightly.

Lucinda sat forward a little and stared carefully at her. "Mother?"

The woman composed herself, blinking rapidly, and took a deep breath. "There's a reason why we couldn't let you go to Hogwarts, Lucinda."

"What?" Lucinda questioned out of reflex. Her mind hadn't even been going in that direction.

"It's true that we never saw his family again, but that doesn't mean they were gone from our lives completely. They were—They are a dark family and they had dark things working behind the scenes. They were humiliated by your father and they were vengeful about it."

"Mother." Lucinda put a hand out in front of her, subconsciously trying to stop the direction the conversation was going. "What—what are you telling me?"

Mrs. Morgan squeezed her hands into fists and pressed them into the tops of her thighs, as her gaze lingered somewhere near the floor of their compartment. "We tried to have children for years and it never happened." Her voice turned uncertain and tentative. "I thought I was cursed. I went to a Seer for some insight into why I couldn't get pregnant, not really expecting any answers, because the fertility doctors could never give me any straight answers either. But the woman I saw took one look into my mind and found... blackness there. A black that wasn't there because of me."

Lucinda found herself leaning even further forward and her legs slowly slid back apart to sit side-by-side; she squeezed her thighs together, as she clutched at her midsection. "What was it?"

"Well, it was a curse, wasn't it?" Mrs. Morgan stared with knitted brow at her daughter. "I was right, after all. Someone cursed me. I guess the mere thought of your father tainting his bloodline with the likes of me, made them so furious that they hindered my ability to have children. We always call you our miracle baby, but... in truth, I took a potion from the Seer to help me counteract the curse. It would only work for a short period of time, long enough to possibly conceive a child, and then I would go back to being cursed again. She even advised against it. She didn't know what the curse would do to the baby even if I happened to get pregnant. But I... I wanted a child. I was selfish and I'm so sorry, Lucinda. Everything is my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Lucinda demanded, not unkindly. "Mother, I don't care that you took a risk and tried to have a child, anyway. Look, I'm here. It worked, didn't it?"

"Lucinda, you were born with an illness." Judi whispered deftly. "An illness that continues to run your life."

"Hey, I think I'm doing pretty well." Lucinda tried to smile reassuringly at her. "It doesn't run my life, anymore."

But her mother just shook her head slowly and stared at the floor again. "That isn't all."

Lucinda's smile faded and she swallowed nervously. "Well, what else, then?" She asked, tightening her fingers against her ribs. "What's the matter?"

"I continued to visit the Seer periodically as you grew, because I was so worried that something would happen to you. You were always so very accident prone..." she added with a nostalgic glance at the darkening sky out the window. "And on this one particular visit, just before we received your first Hogwarts letter... she gave a prophecy."

Lucinda held her breath. She'd heard word of this through the door of a broom cupboard, much earlier in the school year, but now she was finally going to hear it properly.

After another deep breath, her mother parted her lips and whispered:

"The child born within the curse,

Will go to school and have it worse.

She'll find, within, a lonely friend,

But foes will thwart her heart again.

Too trusting, alas, and without fear,

She'll perish in her starting year.

For, by the hands of those so dear,

She'll perish in her starting year."

Lucinda listened to her mother recite the prophecy, eyebrows rising up all the time in astonishment. Honestly, she thought she'd feel more afraid hearing such a thing, but that was before; not now. It was all over now.

"So, of course we couldn't let you go." Her mother continued, clasping her hands together at her breast. "How could I let you go after hearing that? I wasn't going to send you away, just to be killed, Lucinda."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" The girl asked after a moment.

Mrs. Morgan let out a dismissive breath and shook her head vigorously. "I couldn't tell a child—my child that there was a prophecy of her death. I could hardly deal with it myself. I wasn't going to do that to you. At least, not until you were older."

"If the prophecy was about my first year, then why didn't you just send me in my second?" Another honest question. Lucinda found it surprisingly easy discussing her death. It was almost elementary now, seeing as the prophecy was proved wrong.

Another shake of the head. "I was too afraid after that, especially since You-Know-Who was at the height of his following at that point. The world was crawling with Death Eaters, some of which I'm sure could have been at the school. It just seemed like such a dangerous time to send you out on your own. It would be like dangling you on a hook in a river full of piranhas."

Lucinda sat back again and rested against her seat, bringing her leg back up to cross it over her knee. She breathed steadily for several moments, thinking. Then she asked the question that she'd wanted answered the most.

"So, why send me this year?" Lucinda regarded her mother with a genuinely perplexed expression. "I mean, it was just one more year. I wasn't expecting to go. What changed—Oh!" The girl's eyes widened in realization. "The Dark Lord!"

Mrs. Morgan narrowed her eyes. "Daughter, I find it incredibly disturbing the amount of pleasant surprise you just exuded with the mention of that wizard."

"He fell from power last year," Lucinda continued, unfazed by her mother's comment. "That was it, wasn't it?"

The woman sighed heavily and gave up a small shrug. "With You-Know-Who gone, I did feel more comfortable letting you go. Plenty of Death Eaters had been captured and sent to Azkaban and goodness knows none of them would act without their king. I also just... wanted you to experience it. I felt terrible... taking those precious years away from you."

"Mother, it's alright—"

"But, see, I got it wrong, anyway." The woman gently cut her off and stared at her with sorrowful eyes. "The prophecy never said anything about your first year at Hogwarts. I only assumed that it was. But what it said was your starting year. Any year that I sent you would have been your starting year... This year was your starting year, Lucinda—" Mrs. Morgan broke off and shook her head vigorously again, trying to keep her tears from surfacing. "I'm so sorry—"

Lucinda instantly opened her mouth to dismiss her mother's apologies, but the compartment door slammed open and her father stalked in, carrying three trays of food in his arms.

"Three banquet tables filled to the brim with various delectables and I get stuck behind the bloke who can't make a decision to save his bloody life—" Upon looking over at the two women properly, Mr. Morgan stopped his mini-rant instantly. He quirked an eyebrow at their serious expressions and his wife's glistening eyes. "What the hell did I just walk in on?"

Lucinda felt a surge of love for her father, seeing him standing there so comically in his blue jumper, messed brown hair, and arms full of teetering platters. She abruptly flung herself from her seat and wrapped her arms around him. The trays of food toppled to the floor and Mr. Morgan sighed in exasperation. "Ah, Lucy, now I've got to stand in that line again!" He grumbled, but he put his arms around the girl just the same. She buried her face in his chest and breathed him in, feeling like a child again in his arms. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed them. Leave it to near-death experiences to truly make someone feel sentimental...