A/N: Hi, everybody! First and foremost, I'm sorry for being absent for so long. Second, thank you so incredibly much for all the lovely reviews and messages. A special shout out to Isa, who has sent me sweet messages along this time. It honestly makes me very happy to know that you are anxious for the continuation. I hope you like it. As you know, any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me.
Chapter Twenty-Six - The Guilt
I can't bite my tongue forever
While you try to play it cool
You can hide behind your stories
But don't take me for a fool*
In the end, we didn't have the smooth and discrete exit that we expected. The other portrait didn't take us back to Rakepick's office nor even to the Forbidden Forest like what happened to her. Instead, we fell heavily right in the middle of the Great Hall, amidst lunch, calling pounds of unnecessary attention to ourselves.
Professor Trelawney released a loud shriek and proceeded to hide underneath the table, whereas Professor Flitwick gasped and looked at us in a mixture of shock and surprise. Dumbledore, as I had imagined, portrayed little emotion, only lifting his brows at the sight of Jacob, but returned to his usual contained face shortly after. On the edge of the table, Professor Snape rose, eyeing me with concern and relief. His black irises asked a thousand silent questions, but the silence was filled with exasperated conversations coming from the four tables. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout and Professor Snape promptly left their table, escorting us out from the Great Hall and away from the hundreds of curious eyes.
Each Head of House took its pupils to their offices, though Merula was the only one to be excused from Professor Snape's interrogatory when Ben told him she had been exposed to the CruciatusCurse. Merula flashed him a burning violet stare as her cheeks got tremendously red, but she didn't fight back. Resigned, she followed Madam Pomfrey to the Hospital Wing.
Nevertheless, Jacob and I never got to follow Professor Flitwick into his office, for we were instantly invoked into Dumbledore's office where, in just a few minutes, my father and grandparents arrived as well. I don't think words are able to express their astonishment upon seeing Jacob there, looking safe and sound, still in his fifteen-year-old body. My brother cried upon the discovery of our mother's passing, but the many hands around him wiped his tears, professing words of love and joy.
Dumbledore, sitting by his desk, wasn't showing much love nor joy as he proceeded to fill what seemed to be a bunch of forms. Once the hugs were finished, he asked us to sit and began a long monologue about my inconsequent behaviour, reckless actions and clear despise for the school's rules.
Amid his words, I stood up. "Forgive me, Professor," I said calmly. "But my brother has been missing for five years and your so-called efforts to find him and end the Cursed Vaults have been, for the lack of a better word, useless. I don't despise the rules, but I despise inconsequence. Students have died and many have been injured. Beatrice Haywood has been trapped in a portrait for almost a year because the person you hired to break the curse was as useless as she was dangerous. Instead of proving yourself a caring and concerned Headmaster, you used me as a pawn, placing me among clues while turning my life harder. Betwixt everything, I still managed to succeed in my academical curriculum as well as in my extra-curricular activities. I'm not a troublemaker looking for chaos to wreak, but an applied student desperate to find her brother and free her friends from imminent danger. I wish I could thank you for anything, but I can't."
I sat down after, but before Dumbledore was able to profess any word, my grandfather spoke. "I agree with Athena, Dumbledore. She has done nothing wrong and has being doing the job that you were supposed to be doing. You shouldn't be hiring people that keep luring students into their malefic plans. Merlin knows what could have happened to Merula Snyde if Athena hadn't been prepared to fight Patricia Rakepick."
"Exactly," Dad says. "I don't want to withdraw them from this school or jeopardize your post as Headmaster, but I do want some commitment from now on. We can send this story to the press and you can lose the job you adore, Dumbledore, but I don't think this is what we want to do. Apparently, there's still one more curse to break. I strongly suggest that either you break it yourself or, if you can't, assist and protect my children instead of using them as pieces of a wicked chess game."
Grandma leaned towards Grandpa. "Why am I only hearing about these things now?" she whispered, exasperated. "I'm nearly having a stroke!"
He flashed her a soft grin while running his fingers along her hair. "For this exact reason, my love."
"I don't want to be protected from the happenings," Grandma said, firmly. "During the next school year, Dumbledore, I want weekly reports of everything that is happening with my grandkids. I mean it! I have been supplying this castle's hospital with special meds, but this provision might be stopped this instant if I'm not promised participation in their activities. And I want to come and watch Athena's every Quidditch match until she graduates."
Grandpa looked at her, amused. "That's all?"
She crossed her arms. "I suppose."
This time, Dumbledore didn't try to argue or reply to our considerations, sending me to detention or starting a long and uninteresting speech. Instead, he filed a form to accept Jacob back at Hogwarts, to begin his sixth year in September along with private lessons with every teacher to recover the lost time. Thankfully, I didn't get into trouble, but had to promise him that I'd help Jacob return smoothly to school and teach him everything I could.
By the end of the day, Jacob returned home with Dad and I received a long lecture from Grandma, who was outraged that I had confided everything to Grandpa, but not her. She made me promise to tell her everything during the summer, including the painful reason why Talbott wouldn't go there anymore.
After that, I visited Merula in the hospital, who was seemingly well and chatty, but got instantly flushed and bothered when Ben entered the room. He didn't try to kiss her again nor professed his love for her, but he did accompany her back to her common room, and she didn't complain.
Dinner tasted heavenly and magically fulfilling again. Even Talbott smiled at me from the corner of the table but didn't look at me again afterwards. I ate the roast dinner and the strawberry pie, wishing that Jacob were there to eat it too. While I was refilling my glass with more juice, Ismelda squeezed herself between Rowan and I, placing a folded square of parchment next to my plate.
"It's my address," she said. "Tell Jacob to write me."
When she left, Rowan burst into laughter, the juice even splashing from her nostrils. "Seems like Ismelda overcame her love for Barnaby. Who knew she'd become your sister-in-law, Athie."
I shrugged. "If she makes Jake happy, I don't see why not," I said. "Somehow, all our foes turned into friends. Though these five years have been a pain, the Vaults managed to get us even closer."
Rowan smiled, wrapping her arm around me. "I'm just thankful that Rakepick won't be around anymore."
The same applied for Professor Snape, who required a meeting after dinner. With the dangerous atmosphere gone, I felt unafraid of walking to the dungeons under the light of the torches, accompanied solely by my lonely footsteps.
I found him standing by his desk, his arms crossed and his expression serene. He didn't scold me nor lectured me for not ripping off the ribbon he had tied around my wrist for protection. Instead, he looked relieved that everything had turned out okay and that Rakepick had fled, hopefully far away from the castle. Though we'd both adore to see her behind bars or, who knows, even stepped on by a troll, the simple lack of her presence was enough to appease our souls.
Peace was restored, at last.
At least for now, obviously.
"It will not take long for her to reappear," he said. "She will never accept having lost for you."
"I know," I said. "Now I know that I can face her."
He nodded. "You have come a long way. I doubted you a lot when you arrived at this school. However, you managed to become an impressive witch."
"I still have two more years to go," I said. "You won't get rid of me this easily."
He smiled discretely, eyeing the door. "Though danger is gone, the least I can do is accompany you back to your tower. Just in case."
I nodded, walking beside him along corridors and staircases, until we arrived in front of the bronze eagle. I turned to him, feeling my heart rejoicing and the agony of missing Jacob completely gone. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him cheerfully.
"I'm sorry," I said, mid smile. "I know this is weird and uncomfortable. I'm just too happy to care."
He took a deep breath and then released a long and uncomfortable sigh, slowly lifting his arms to close them around me, one of his hands holding the back of my head. "I admit that… I am glad that you are safe. I was afraid that Rakepick might have killed you."
I chuckled against his chest, inhaling the scent of musk and moss. "Thank you," I said, emotional. "For everything."
Having this back to "normal" is, to say the very least, bizarre. It's odd not seeing Rakepick around, architecting her evil plans, and not having a random curse threatening our lives. Being able to walk around with no fear of being suddenly struck with a jinx or managing to go from class to class with nothing but lightness in the soul is something I'm not used to. The thought of having my brother back, after years and years of incessantly chasing his shadows and distance voice, fills my heart with such joy that I cannot help but to arbitrarily smile.
Joyful days turn into cheerful weeks, bringing the expectancy of the summer vacations, as well as the anticipation for the OWLS and the last Quidditch matches of the year.
As requested, Grandma is sitting on the bleachers when I enter the pitch for the last game of the year, the Silver Arrow that Grandpa and she gave me firmly in hand. From across the centre line, Charlie smiles at me, reaching out to shake my hand.
"Let's make this match memorable," he says, climbing on his broom as I nod, joyfully.
I take impulse, waiting in formation. As soon as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and launches the Quaffle into the air, our gladiator fight begins. Bludgers are thrown mercilessly, sending swooshing sounds by our ears, and I follow Charlie amusingly while we look for the Snitch. There is more laughter among the players than actual fire in our eyes. In the end of the day, we're just glad we're alive.
On the bleachers, I see my family cheering for me. Though Mum isn't physically there, standing among Dad, Jacob, Grandpa, Grandma and Holly, I know she's there watching over us. Jacob's smile, cheerful and encouraging, gives me the boost that I need to pirouette into the air, circling the pitch in profound happiness. Charlie accompanies me, mimicking my stunts and laughing as we escape Bludgers and racing players.
Gryffindor scores sixty points, but it doesn't concern me. Not that I think Charlie isn't capable of winning – and he has kicked me in the butt several times to prove otherwise -, but I'm just too happy to care about frivolities such as who wins and who loses. All that matters is that I got what I wanted and he's cheering with my family on the bleachers.
Jacob.
The skies are an immensity of blueness and frothy clouds of the purest white. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest is an outline of greens and browns against the blue. The sun, shining brightly and warm, shimmers softly upon the winged golden ball that is hovering the centre line of the pitch, just a few centimetres from the grass.
I lean forward, racing faster than my heart, as I spot Charlie doing the same, but coming from the other side, directly towards me. "You are not getting it before me, Weasley!" I shout, amusedly.
"Watch me, Lockhart!" he yells back with a smile, reaching out to wrap his hand around the Snitch.
With a final impulse, I thrust myself forward, feeling my fingers closing around the small and cold ball, just in time for Charlie to violently crash against me.
The impact hurts, taking all the air from my lungs and making us collapse on the grass under the surprised sounds of everyone on the bleachers. We take a few deep breaths before bursting into a pleased and loud laughter.
"Well done, Athena," he says, mid laugh.
"The same to you, Charlie."
And to end May in great style and in a delightful atmosphere, even after a tremendously difficult year, I get to hug my team and toast to Ravenclaw and to our new and acquired and very much deserved Quidditch Cup.
So far, the ending of the school year has brought only amazing fruits. Would everything taste sweeter if Rakepick was in Azkaban?
Of course.
But these small victories taste incredibly better.
For now, at least.
When June begins, the entire environment starts to change. Summer arrives, bringing the blossoming of yarrows, foxgloves and begonias, filling the air with bees and butterflies, as well as with the fragrant aromas of lilies, poppies and zinnias. It's the perfect landscape for the last month of the school year. Everything has a thousand different colours and even seems to glisten under the scorching sun.
The only thing capable of opening a tear in our canvas of plenitude, is the beginning of the exams dreaded by both the fifth and the seventh years. I even decide to postpone my birthday party to the end of the week, a few days after the correct date, because I know I couldn't be able to enjoy myself properly with the imminence of the OWLS hovering the horizon.
Every night is a constant and never-ending piece of stress that turns the Ravenclaw common room into another library, with books spread on the floor and Rowan and Tulip next to me, reading and collecting more information so desperately that they end with papercuts on their fingertips. We spend hours with our noses glued to the books and notes, trying to absorb more and more, though we know there's only so much that our brains can process.
The very first exam, to open the week in a beautiful cloud of desperation, is Potions. The confident feeling within me withers as soon as I enter the crowded room, finding my designated spot right behind James, who is holding the standard and very uncomfortable quill that was provided to us. I take a few deep breaths when the exams are handed and, when the bell rings, I flip the page.
What are the ten main uses for Moonstone powder?, I read in my mind, dipping the point of the quill inside the ink. Lists and more lists of interesting uses and important potions and concoctions that contain Moonstone crowd my mind and I have to take a few deep breaths in order to sort them out properly. In the end, I have to contain myself not to add an eleventh use.
What is expected if one adds an excessive amount of Porcupine Quills in the Elixir to Induce Euphoria? Another easy one. Countless things can go wrong when one doesn't pay attention to the proper amount or weight of ingredients or the correct count when mixing. The Elixir, though usually harmless, can cause severe burn if there's even a slight mistake during the procedure. Adding one extra Porcupine Quill, even though it sounds innocent, can cause terrible injuries.
What are main differences between the Erumpent Potion and the Strengthening Solution? Mainly? The volatility. The Erumpent Potion is far more dangerous and unstable than the Strengthening Solution, though, of course, incredibly more powerful.
And so on, the questions continue, each more challenging than the one before, and I write nervously and passionately until my inkpot is nearly empty. When I'm done, there are calluses on my fingers and my hand is terribly sore. However, as soon as I finish the exam, my mind is feeling lighter and accomplished.
Unfortunately, there isn't a well-deserved rest waiting for me, nor for Rowan, whose hand is numb after giving the run-around on question seven, writing almost eight paragraphs of nothing at all in a desperate attempt to gain Professor Snape's sympathy.
"I know it's no use," she says. "And I'd say it didn't hurt to try, but it did. I can't feel my hand now. How am I supposed to take Professor Binns test now?"
Fortunately, Penny has the response for that. Cautious, she had prepared a jar full of Restoring and Reinvigorating Hand Cream. The thick cream, that smells of coconut and sage, relaxes all our muscles and makes them feel just as new. Rowan then proceeds to crack her knuckles, looking fresh and prepared for another round of questions, this time about History of Magic.
And this is how the week continues. Test after test. Inkpot after inkpot. Pounds of Penny's amazing cream. Some sobbing in the girl's bathroom after Liz realized she had mistaken a Golden Snidget with a Glumbumble.
"They're not even remotely alike!" she gasped, sniffing on a piece of toilet paper. "I'm a failure! How do I expect to become a Magizoologist like this?"
Finally, when Friday arrives, bringing a thin rain and some freshness in the air, accompanied by the scent of peonies touched by raindrops, there's a feeling of restlessness. The last tests are on their way and, in just a few weeks, we'll be receiving our results, knowing if we're prepared enough to advance in our academic careers and to, hereafter, achieve our desired professions.
Our last exam is Astronomy, in the chilly night that smells of daisies and pine trees. Three at a time, we enter the tower, being provided with an empty sky chart and a telescope. Our assignment is to chart the entire night sky visible from the top of the tower, indicating planets, constellations and their connection with present and future events, relating them to the Centaur form of foreseeing the future. It isn't difficult, but after spying on the telescope for the tenth time, I feel that I'm getting cross-eyed.
It is only on the following day, with the exams distant in our memories, that we manage to relax enough to throw a party in Ravenclaw Tower, with plenty of Butterbeer and iced tea, in commemoration of my sixteenth birthday.
My plans were to celebrate it at home, alone with my family, but Rowan insisted that "a true Curse-Breaker should have a proper celebration" and proceeded to invite everyone, get supplies from the kitchens and fill hundreds of magical balloons that said "Rakepick stinks" every time they pop. A few of my Ravenclaw choir mates even join to sing an acapella version of Have an Enchanted Birthday, stealing cheerful tears from my eyes.
Calling me to a corner, Tonks and Tulip give me a narrow but long purple box with a huge yellow bow.
"I wanted to give you a supply of Dungbombs, but Tonks disagreed," Tulip says as I open the box. "We scrounged it from Rakepick's office after Flitwick and Sprout were done with the scolding. Fortunately, because shortly after a bunch of guys from the Ministry came, apprehending tons of dark artifacts from her collection."
I untie the bow, removing the lid. Inside the box, carefully placed over a bright pink tissue, lies the Marauder's Map. "Guys," I say, surprised. "Isn't this far more valuable to you than me?"
They shrug. "We know all these secret passages anyway," Tonks says. "And it's far more diverting to engage in mischievous acts if we don't know who's wandering around. We know you won't use it for mischief. We still have one more Vault to find. Maybe it will come in handy."
I wrap my arms around them. "Thank you, girls," I say. "You have been risking so much, accompanying me in these woeful adventures. I will never be able to pay you back."
They smirk. "Oh, but you already did," Tulip says. "That prank you helped with, in the Courtyard, will forever be a part of Hogwarts history."
"Rumours say that the slime and vomit are still ingrained in those trees," Tonks adds with a chuckle.
It is astonishing to see our common room filled with people from all four houses. Somehow, the Vaults, though woeful and frightening, managed to bring all of us together. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Gryffindors and Slytherins. Purebloods and Muggleborns. In another world, perhaps, Charlie wouldn't be discussing dragons with Barnaby and Liz. In another world, Ismelda wouldn't be drinking berry iced tea with Penny. In another world, Ben wouldn't be giving a fresh baby pink peony to an extremely flushed Merula.
I smile.
Life has a funny way of functioning.
"Athena," Bill says, walking to me with a mug full of Butterbeer. "So, Jacob is returning to Hogwarts in September."
I nod. "It was five against one," I say. "Dumbledore didn't want to accept him back, after what happened when he was in school, but the facts were undeniable."
"He spoke to me yesterday, after I finished the NEWTS. Dumbledore, I mean," he says. "Rakepick had recommended me to her superior in Gringotts. Given that she is now wanted for several crimes, I didn't expect him to write me. Dumbledore said that he sent a letter to Barrett Grim, who is the current chief of curse breaking, and told him about my exceptional abilities in working with the Cursed Vaults. I'll be starting my internship in August."
I open a broad smile. "Bill! Congratulations!" I say, hugging him. "You're going to be an excellent Curse-Breaker. Way more proficient than Rakepick."
"I wanted to thank you, Athena," he says.
"Why?" I ask, intrigued.
"For inviting me into your adventures four years ago," he explains. "Hadn't been for you and your quest, I wouldn't have got an amazing job and, perhaps, Charlie wouldn't have caught Rowan's attention."
"It was an honour having you fighting beside me, Bill," I say. "I admit that I'm going to miss you greatly."
"Well, we'll still have the graduation party to enjoy ourselves," he says. "Dumbledore promised the Weird Sisters are coming to perform."
"I think, at last, he finally decided to help instead of muddle," I laugh.
"You know how much he adores a good party," Bill adds, amused. "Anyway, I'm happy that you got your brother back and helped make this castle a safer place for everyone. Though there's still one more Vault to go, now I can sleep soundly, knowing that you'll be here to look after Perce and the twins when I'm gone."
I smile. "It will be a pleasure, Bill," I say.
"Just…" he says. "Don't let the twins near Tulip and Tonks for too long. They might get lured into their unhinged plans."
"Yeah, I know how Tulip and Tonks can be. I mean, you saw wh-"
He laughs. "No, I meant the other way around," he says. "If the girls find themselves wrapped around the twins' plans, they might as well get expelled. You have no idea the kind of chaos they unleash back home."
"I'll warn the girls," I say. "Though I think they'll be delighted to have some competition."
Later that night, lying on my bed with the Marauder's Map in my hands, I try to unfold it, revealing nothing but blank parchment.
How does it even work?
I'm no idea.
How is it going to be useful next year, when the next curse falls upon the castle?
I confess I don't even want to think about it.
I store it in a secret compartment in my trunk, though I know I should return it to Mr. Filch, just like he required. But how can I return something that is going to be so useful? He wouldn't understand why I'd keep a magical artifact to myself…
That's why, before going to sleep, I cast the Doubling Spell on another piece of parchment, creating an exact – though useless – replica of the Marauder's Map. He'll have to content himself with this one for now.
I'll return the original to him one day.
Or not…
* Your Love Is A Lie, by Simple Plan.
