Chapter 43 - "But now is not the time to cry. Now's the time to find out why."

In the days after Cedric's death, Circe found it difficult to sleep. Every time she seemed to drift off, after sobbing into her bed and passing out with sheer exhaustion, she would see the gasping, leathery face of Barty Crouch Junior lunging at her. Dead eyed and empty.

Her and Severus had kept their distance from one another. He knew that Circe was hurt by what he'd said when he'd heard the screams of terror from the stadium. And on top of all of that, Cedric's death had confirmed in his mind just how deadly the mere association with him could be for her. So, he retreated into himself, and she did too. They hadn't spoken to one another for three days. Lost in the haze of grief and mourning that had settled over the castle like a black, damp mist. There was no laughter in those days, from staff or students. No warmth, no normality. Just sorrow and a confusion that no one seemed to have any answers for.

It was around three o'clock in the morning when Circe rose from her bed, unable to fall asleep with a loose end from her and Barty's conversation on her mind. She strode hurriedly down the empty Hogwarts corridors towards her classroom. Her feet only lingered when she passed the memorial to Cedric…

It had sprung up just outside the prefect's lounge. Just a picture of him to begin with, and then flowers, dozens and dozens of bouquets, were laid around the photograph, illuminated by a carpet of softly flickering candles. Then more pictures were left, some of Cedric with his friends, laughing, smiling, his arms around them, some of just himself. Fat teardrops littered the floor around Circe as she spotted a new picture of Cedric and Cho, taken that Christmas down in Hogsmeade, his arms enveloped around her as he drew her into a kiss on the cheek. Her heart ached for Cho, another victim somewhat forgotten in the aftermath of that terrible night in the maze. Circe found herself thinking on the cruelty of death, not on those it takes away, but on those it leaves behind. The memorial spanned almost the entire corridor now, and Circe had to tiptoe her way through the offerings and candles and flowers, wading through the epicenter of the school's grief. She shuddered as she tried to stifle the sobs in her chest, but all that rang in her ears were the agonised cries of Amos Diggory, wailing over the body of his only son. Taken by the very person whomst Circe too shrank back in fear from.

Her face was still wet when she reached her classroom and she wiped her face with a sleeve as she hurried to her desk. Circe opened the top draw and there, sitting on top of a pile of papers and useless knick-knacks, was the bundle of hair she had received from Moody.

Not, Moody. Barty Crouch Junior. She corrected herself.

She turned it over in her palm again, examining it by the silvery moonlight that illuminated her classroom. The strands of grey in it seemed to almost glow in the darkness.

Who do you belong to? Circe thought, not for the first time. And why did he want me to have you?

A whooshing, sweeping noise made Circe look up from her close inspection of the hair bundle and she saw a telltale black robe float past her classroom door. She tiptoed as quietly as she could over to the corridor, pushing the bundle of hair into her pocket. Her heart started hammering in her chest as she drew closer, unsure of who it was who stalked the shadows nearby. Was it another Death Eater? Was it the Dark Lord himself? She drew out her wand and readied herself to cast a nasty hex at the possible intruder. But when she peered into the gloom, standing stoically in the middle of the corridor, like a black-winged grim reaper, was Severus.

"So, are you ready?" he asked, his voice cold and unemotional.

"Ready?" Circe asked. She breathed a sigh of relief, but the icy atmosphere sitting in the space between them did little to calm her.

"To search Moody's office. I had to wait until you retrieved the hair. I did not wish to rifle through your belongings..."

"How many nights have you been waiting for me to turn up here, Severus?" she asked. He did not reply to her, merely turned on his heels, his long black cloak making it appear like he was floating on air, and walked away towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. Circe sighed and followed him.

They walked along together in utter silence. Each footstep that echoed off the floor was like the ring of a death knell. Neither of them knew how to bridge the gap that grief and jealousy had created between them and neither was in the mood for small talk.

As Severus pushed open the door to Moody's office, Circe couldn't help but flinch as she saw the vacant chair where Barty had sat as his soul was sucked from his body. She felt Severus's eyes upon her at her sudden, frightened movement, but she walked on into the room, keeping her eyes firmly before her. There was nothing in the office of Moody's anymore. All his belongings had been inspected and packed away by the Ministry's employees before being sent back to the real Alastor's home in Ireland. The only thing left that hadn't been posted back to him yet was the magical trunk.

God, would Moody even want that thing back given he was trapped in it for the best part of a year? Circe thought, grimacing as her eyes passed over the box.

"Well, Barty was clearly lying." Circe said, flapping her arms frustratedly. "There's nothing in here that the Ministry hasn't already been through. There can't have been anything else left to find."

"I know how to spot an unconvincing liar when I see one. Crouch Junior was not lying." Severus muttered, moving about the room, inspecting every little nook and cranny for anything that would reveal the "secret" the Death Eater had hinted at before.

Circe swallowed hard. "Is that supposed to be a dig at me, Severus?" she asked defensively. "Because of what I told Barty the other night?"

Severus straightened his back and looked at Circe with a glare that turned her blood cold. Here they were not ten minutes in each other's company and their conversation had already turned confrontational. Right to the bud of what sat sore and unspoken between them.

"All I have to say about that is that it was lucky Barty was given the Dementor's kiss that very night. If he'd have managed to escape back to the Dark Lord, neither of us would have lived to see next week."

"I still got information out of him before he figured it out though…" she responded haughtily.

"And you played fast and loose with both of our lives."

"Oh Severus, does it matter?! We still got what we wanted. A foot in the door of Voldemort's inner circle and answers to some of the questions we've been asking for months." Circe scoffed and looked around the empty room exasperatedly. "Jesus, Severus, it's like you've just realised exactly what game we're playing."

Severus growled. He thrashed out and kicked at the trunk with an animalistic roar as his temper flared.

"Do you not understand, you stupid girl?!" he hissed through his clenched teeth, standing mere inches from Circe's face. "Someone who was meant to be in our care, whom we were meant to protect, he was killed because of that "game"."

"You think I don't mourn Cedric's death too?" she snarled back at him. Severus had touched a nerve, voicing the very thing she had accused herself of over and over again, what every staff member of Hogwarts had accused themselves of since they first heard the agonised howls of Harry and Amos that awful night. "If I could lay down my life and have it guarantee that no more of our children die at His hands, I would do it, Severus." she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.

"Cedric died because I was distracted... Distracted by you." he uttered, his voice cracking as hot tears sprung up in his black eyes.

Circe gasped, looking at Severus with a pained, wounded look. "So this is all my fault?" she asked hoarsely.

"No… it's mine. It's my fault. When I was alone… I was vigilant, I was alert, I was miserable, but I still protected those who I was bound to."

"Lily's son still lives. You rushed to his side like a worker-ant when called." Circe said derisively, finally voicing the hurt she had felt since Severus had uttered those very words.

"Are you jealous of the boy?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes!" she shouted as a thick silence settled over them. Her answer had surprised even herself and she wiped the tears that had sprung up in her eyes away with a sleeve. "And of Lily. Of everything she meant to you and you still do in her name. I know you once told me to not compare myself to a dead woman, but I can't help but wonder if you ever brutalised yourself for loving her like you just did with me."

Severus blinked back tears. His throat too tight to even muster a reply.

"And if I was the reason for your "slip in vigilance" as you say, then…. Then…" Circe whimpered.

"Then what?" Severus asked

"Then perhaps I should have gone home at Christmas after all."

A loud thump emanated from the magic trunk and Severus and Circe both were ripped from their heated, emotional argument to stare at it.

"There's something in there..." Circe muttered.

"Impossible… Moody was the only thing stored in there. It should be empty now."

"Obviously not…" Circe walked over to the trunk and crouched down before it as Dumbledore had done. The keys still sat in the lock, in the position they had been left in when the real Alastor Moody had been dragged from its depths. Circe traced a finger over the iron keys, turned a quarter turn to the right and puzzled as she lifted the lid and peered into the gloom. She whispered the lumos spell and light shone into the cavernous depths of the trunk, all the way down to the empty floor. The walls were stained and the floor dirty, but there was nothing in it. She withdrew her head from its depths, frowning deeply.

"You heard that noise the same as I." she said to Severus, hovering over her left shoulder. She closed the trunk's lid and it clicked back into position. "There was definitely something that shifted or moved in this trunk."

Severus bent down beside her and ran his long fingers over the iron keys. He turned them back a quarter turn to the left, to their original locked position and he jiggled the trunk's lid, conforming that it was tight shut. He turned the keys back to the right and the lid opened once more to reveal the empty cavern of nothing. Circe puzzled and moved to grab at the keys herself. As her hand settled on them, however, her fingers collided with Severus's and he shrank back from her as if she were a venomous snake. Her heart ached at that, but she pressed on. She turned the keys left, locking the lid and then paused. Her intuitions were telling her to try something….After a tense moment of doubt she gave the keys an experimental twist to the left again, turning them in the opposite direction to the way Dumbledore had unlocked the trunk. But instead of sticking and refusing to budge, the keys turned a quarter turn to the left and Severus straightened up as the lid popped open again. Circe gasped, amazed that her instincts had been right and she threw back the lid of the trunk to reveal a completely different interior to the one they had seen before. However, her and Severus both were forced to shrink back from the trunk, gagging, as a putrid, rotting smell wafted up through the opened lid. She covered her mouth as her eyes watered from the awful stench within, stealing a cautious glance down the cavern of the magical trunk. There, sitting at the bottom of the pit, was a body.

"Oh God… Who is it?" Circe asked, feeling like she was going to vomit.

Severus leant forward and peered into the trunk too. "Barty Crouch… Senior."

"A dual chambered trunk…" Dumbledore muttered as he paced about his office. Circe sat in an almost comatose state in the chair opposite his desk, staring at lovely young Fawkes on his perch. "I must admit I am a little embarrassed that I did not discover it myself."

Once again, Circe found that she was lightly brushing her thumb against the bundle of hair in her pocket again. Barty Crouch Senior's hair. She sucked in her breath and withdrew her hand from her pocket, laying it resolutely on her lap. It had been a long while since she'd slept well, and she wondered when she would be able to get a truly peaceful night of rest next.

"Dumbledore, I want to be in The Order." she said firmly.

"Oh, I assumed as much after Severus told me of the revelations behind your dreams. And of course, what happened with Barty Crouch Junior the other night."

"He told you? He told you about my dreams? About us?" she asked meekly.

"Of course. It was a necessary confession. One that I must say brought me a small modicum of joy in these dark times." Dumbledore smiled to himself as he peered at Circe from over his glasses..

Circe blushed, but more from a rising sensation of anger rather than embarrassment. "So I can't tell my closest friends, my colleagues, my father… what Severus means to me. But you must know?"

"After it was made apparent that Voldemort has your number, if you'll pardon the turn of phrase, I'm afraid there really was no way of backing out for you. As the Head of The Order, I had to know why you had decided to join Severus in the Double Agent game. But no one else need know. Severus and I are both in agreement that it would be better that way."

"All these secrets, all this duplicity!" Circe muttered exasperatedly.

"If you are prepared to be a spy like you say you are, you must become accommodated to secrets and duplicity. And to undertake whatever may be necessary to win the trust of the Dark Lord."

"I am." she said stone-faced.

"And how can I be sure, my dear, that you will remain faithful to The Order? And not become tainted by His ways of thinking?" Dumbledore asked, the very slightest hint of menace in his voice.

"I'm afraid Voldemort didn't kill one of my sweethearts, Professor." she said, staring daggers at the old man. He knew instantly that she was referring to Snape's anchor of loyalty to the Order and he raised a surprised brow at her. "But a great many of my friends died in the wizarding war. The first wizarding war as it'll be called soon. I am an Ancient Studies Professor, I examine History for a living and I know how the eyes of time look upon people who think like He does, who believe what He believes, Headmaster... I suppose you will just have to trust me. The good old-fashioned way."

"And you will have Severus beside you to keep you on the straight and narrow." he replied with a glint of cheekiness in his eyes.

"I have my own moral compass without Severus's guiding example, thank you very much." she said haughtily, rising sharply to give Fawkes a scratch behind his ear. Dumbledore paused, sensing the tenderness around mentions of Severus.

"Of course, my apologies Professor." Albus said steadily.

Circe did not turn around to acknowledge his apology. Instead she kept her eyes firmly on Fawkes as he nuzzled into her hand. He blinked at her slowly, turning his beaky face to the side as he regarded her curiously. Circe smiled back at him sadly.

"I suppose we'll have to keep Barty's death a secret too." She eventually continued. Her voice weary and emotionless.

"Indeed. Voldemort obviously has some kind of task or purpose for you that is connected to Barty. And as his son went to great pains to hide his body, those plans probably all hinge on keeping knowledge of his death buried. So Barty, again if you'll pardon the turn of phrase, must remain un-buried."

"Otherwise I risk outing myself." Circe grumbled. "But what will He ask?!" Circe said aloud to the open air. She knew Dumbledore didn't have an answer for her, but nevertheless it felt good to vocalise her worries.

And if Voldemort does have my number, I wish he'd just hurry up and call…

Cedric's funeral had been looming on the horizon for a long and terrible time. And still Circe had been surprised when Minerva had emerged in their shared conservatory in a black dress. Somehow she'd managed to forget in the state her head was in that one traditionally wears black to a funeral... She rushed back into her room before Minerva could see her in her rather too colourful jumper, throwing off her clothes and re-dressing in the closest black dress she could lay her hands on: a simple, silky, strappy number that fell below her knees but left her shoulders bare. Circe grabbed an oversized black blazer to place over the top of it and re-pinned Minerva's amber brooch to the lapel as the only hint of colour anywhere on the outfit.

That could have been an embarrassing moment, considering everyone's going to be watching me. Circe thought to herself as she rolled up the blazer's sleeves.

Amos Diggory had personally written to her and asked Circe to play at Cedric's memorial service in the Great Hall. Circe had put down his letter soaked in tears as she read Amos's summation of Cedric's love for the MMAP and the special connection he felt to his fellow attendees because of the music they shared. Her tears sprang up anew as she remembered the happy times in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with Cedric and the others, wasting hour after joyous hour listening to CD's together. She recalled how Cedric had beguiled the girls and lightly bullied the boys until he had 'Definitely Maybe' on for the one hundredth time, how he'd smile that winning, golden smile, how he'd plucked experimentally at Circe's guitar... When Cedric hadn't been talking about Quidditch or his NEWTS or the Tri-Wizard tournament, he'd been talking about music. Specifically Oasis. Circe remembered the unease that she had felt at the Yule Ball towards performing in front of her students, but if she couldn't summon her bravery for Cedric's send off, she'd never forgive herself.

Circe picked up her acoustic guitar and sat on the edge of her bed, tuning the instrument again. She leaned over and spoke the song she had chosen to perform into the Cantuscope's cone, strumming along to the melody as she practised the chords a few more times. Her hands were already shaking with nerves and she was making stupid mistaks in her playing. She tried to swallow down the bile that rose up in her throat as she pictured the faces of all of her Hogwarts students staring up at her.

This might be my last hurrah for a while. She pondered, thinking that it was unlikely that spying would grant her much free time to gig with The Weird Sisters. Plus, it's not really responsible spying is it… One minute you're opening up covert documents from a huge brown envelope stamped with a big red "Classified", and the next you're treading the boards in the O2 Academy..?

Still, she found it hard to try to"enjoy" the idea of her upcoming performance. In a perfect world she would never, ever, have been performing today…

She swung her guitar over her shoulder and knocked politely at Minerva's door. The Gryffindor Head of House answered promptly, her eyes already red and puffy. Circe felt her own eyes clouding over again and before either of them had exchanged a word to one another, they were crying together in a tight hug. After a moment's sobbing, Minerva drew apart from Circe with primly pursed lips, clearing her throat as she delved in a pocket for a hankie.

"Look at the two of us…" she chided, dabbing at her eyes. "Balling before we've even got there." She handed another tissue to Circe and she blew her nose, gathering her composure together again. She found herself aching for Severus again, despite the painful stalemate that had settled between them. She wished that she had him to lean upon, to cry to at the end of it all, to lay on his chest whilst he stroked her hair and spoke gently to her in his wonderful, rich voice. Luckily, Minerva was the one there for her, with an extended arm and a small smile and Circe clamped on to her like a crutch.

"Come on. The sooner we get this awful, awful day started, the sooner we can be in the Three Broomsticks raising a toast."

By the time Circe and Minerva reached the Great Hall, the space was full with the already seated, waiting students. The Hall was a sea of black; even the Beauxbattons ladies had changed into a uniform that fit the dark colour palette and the Durmstrang boys wore their full traditional furs as a mark of respect. Their Headmaster was not amongst them. Karkaroff had not been seen since the night of Cedric's death and Circe secretly hoped that he was far away with his wife and his daughter, tucked away in some distant corner of the world. There were no tables laid out, just row upon row of benches, all facing the stage at the top of the Great Hall and as Circe drew nearer to the front, she saw the single photo of Cedric that sat mounted on an easel, placed for all to see. She wondered why the room felt so stark and empty, despite being full to capacity but she looked up and realised the roof of the Great Hall was bare and empty, uncharmed and naked. She took her seat with the other staff lined against the walls, overlooking the main body of students at the center of the Hall, propping her guitar up beside her and jittering her leg nervously as a low chatter buzzed around her.

"Circe, ma cherie, are you alright?" Maxime asked gently from beside her. Circe looked up sharply, almost unaware that she'd taken a seat beside the Beauxbattons Head.

"Just… a little nervous. Mr Diggory asked me to do a small something for the memorial service."

"My 'eart breaks for all you Hogwarts Professors." Maxime replied, giving Circe a pat on the shoulder. "If it had been Fleur… One of my own. Mon Dieu, I would have been inconsolable."

Circe did not have the words to reply to Maxime. Her throat closed as a bubble of emotion threatened to make her start crying again.

She looked out over the amassed students, some of them also red eyed and teary already. She spotted Cho, her little Quidditch star, held up by a few other fellow Ravenclaws as she openly wept, her pale face a mask of sorrow. She looked away from Cho, her heart threatening to tear in two at the sight of her, and that's when she found Severus's eyes. He stared at her from across the Great Hall, his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. For what seemed like an agonising age, he did not take his eyes off her and Circe felt like he was looking into her very soul, sifting through her every thought and sorrow and Circe too felt like she was the only person in the room that could feel his own sadness too. It was hidden, for sure, buried under his stoic outer shell but she could see it just sitting beneath the surface. If you ran a knife over Severus's skin, he would bleed misery.

"Still, in the midst of sorrow there can be joy…" Maxime continued, rousing Circe from her staring match with Severus and delving into her pocket. She placed a small fold of paper into Circe's palm which was sealed with a deep blue wax button. Circe let the surface of the wax seal play in the dim light, noting the ornate "OL" embossed into it.

"Wait… is this from-"

"Odette." Maxime chimed in before Circe could finish her sentence. "I'm afraid I wrote to Odette myself around Christmas time, asking if you'd made contact with her. When she wrote back and informed me you had not… I may have told her where she could find you instead."

Circe looked at Maxime, feeling like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. The paper in her hand now felt like it weighed a tonne and she buried it in her pocket to save it for later.

"Ah, of course you will want to read it in private, non?" Maxime said hurriedly. When Circe began jittering her leg again, staring at her feet, the French Headmistress frowned. "Did I do the right thing, ma cherie? Passing on your information to her?"

"Yes. Thank you, Olympe." Circe replied, doing her best to muster a small grin.

The whole room fell silent as Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, followed by Amos Diggory and a small, petite, blonde woman who Circe assumed was Cedric's mother. Dumbledore led the Diggorys down to the very front row of the benches, nodding deeply to them once they had taken their seats. As the Headmaster approached Cedric's photograph in the center of the stage, you could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

"Today, as our three schools look to part ways, we should have another seated amongst us…" Dumbledore began, gesturing to Cedric's picture. "Cedric Diggory was a student who embodied all of the finest qualities of Hufflepuff house. He was a hard worker, he valued fairness and truth and he was, above all else, a fierce friend.

The Ministry does not wish for you to be aware of the circumstances in which he died. But all of you have been affected by his death, whether you knew him well or not. Therefore I think you have a right to know exactly what happened that night."

A ripple of whispers ran through the crowd of students and Circe found herself locking eyes with Severus once more.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. There will be many people who do not believe this. Many who wish to think that the Dark Lord has not and will never return. But it would be an insult to Cedric's memory to pretend that his death was a mere accident or that he was somehow at fault.

The purpose of the Triwizard tournament was to further co-operation between magical communities across the world. And in the days that will follow, I hope that message of co-operation and understanding is as strong as ever. The bonds we have made this year are more important than ever before. In light of Voldemort's return we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. And in the face of the raging storm heading our way, we must endeavour to have those whom we are bonded to by love by our side, to keep us strong, to keep us united."

Circe looked to Severus and he back at her, the words of Dumbledore striking a chord within both their souls. Tears ran freely down her face and Severus too fought desperately to keep his stoic composure.

I love you, Severus. I love you. The thought circulated round Circe's mind on repeat, over and over again as she wept openly.

"But today, we are not here to preach a sermon on the future. We are here to remember a boy who was fair and true and brave. To celebrate his life and honour him for who he was and what he meant to us. And to commence, I would like to invite Professor Smith, who has been asked to perform something by Mr Diggory, to begin for us."

Circe wiped her face and gathered her scant courage. She walked slowly up to the stage, her feet almost dragging. She turned her head to the gathered mourners, all eight hundred of them pictures of absolute misery. She saw Harry, Ron and Hermione towards the back of the room, their eyes filled with tears. Potter looked fragile, like he was about to smash at any minute and the boy's horrific cries when he'd appeared back at the stadium, clutching Cedric's body, rang through her mind again.

I couldn't leave him! Not there...

The memory of the pure noise of grief he'd made tore at her soul. She felt her throat close up with emotion and she tried to swallow away her own sadness.

Every single adult, staff and visitor, were clad in black and they stood like chess pieces at the back and sides of the room, the guardians of death. Minerva's lip had been quivering throughout the memorial service and Circe had to fight her own tears as the Gryffindor Head of House nodded solemnly to her. The only person whose face was a mask of grim stoicism was Severus. He looked at his feet, only glancing up to Circe for the briefest of moments from through his parted black hair. But his eyes caught hers and a shock ran bodily through her.

She coughed awkwardly as she took her seat on the lone stool placed on the stage, positioning her guitar onto her lap. She took another sweeping look out over her children, their expectant faces looking to her for guidance and affirmation in their sorrow.

"I… uh -" she began awkwardly. "Cedric once told me in a MMAP meeting to listen to this particular band he liked. Little did he know that this year I've pretty much only listened to Oasis. And it was all his fault..."

A few of the MMAP members smiled in the crowd. Circe allowed herself a small smile too as she remembered the boy in their music sessions last year. Bright, wonderful, beguiling, so full of life. Her face fell back into a mournful mask.

"He… he asked me in one of our meetings if I could teach him to play one of their songs. And I never did…" The lump in her throat came back with avengence. From the corner of her eye she saw Severus shift ever so slightly in response to her. Circe looked at him from the stage, her vision cloudy. He lowered his hands to his sides and stared openly at her, his eyes deep wells of concern. She looked so small and alone on that stage. He longed to run to her side and fold her in his embrace, protect her from the sadness.

"So Cedric, this one I offer up for you. It's a fairly simple one, but then again all Oasis songs are. About eight different chords, watch out for the F with the added ninth… I'm sorry I never got round to teaching you, our kid."

Circe took a deep breath in and started strumming.

"Maybe I don't really wanna know

How your garden grows

'Cause I just wanna fly

Lately, did you ever feel the pain

In the morning rain

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly

Wanna live, I don't wanna die

Maybe I just wanna breathe.

Maybe I just don't believe.

Maybe you're the same as me

We see things they'll never see.

You and I are gonna live forever"

There was not a dry eye in the house as she sang. Even Severus's eyes grew moist as he heard her voice strain from emotion. But her hands were steady, playing the song with skill, keeping to the steady beat. As she continued on into the second verse, the tears began to roll down her nose and onto the guitar, but she kept her voice resolute and strong. She kept her eyes firmly on the instrument, afraid that she would completely falter if she saw her kid's faces again. Yet, she felt their hurt and their tears, some crying openly on each other's shoulders.

"Maybe I will never be

All the things that I wanna be…"

Circe raised her eyes steadily, finding comfort and message in the words she sang, and she prayed the students heard it too.

"But now is not the time to cry

Now's the time to find out why.

I think you're the same as me

We see things they'll never see

You and I are gonna live forever."

Her voice soared into the bare rafters of the Great Hall.

"We're gonna live forever…"

She raised her face to the light, and Severus saw the tear stains etched into her cheeks.

"We're gonna live forever…"

Harry watched, sharing his grief with everybody sat beside him. Hogwarts, Beauxbattons and Durmstrang. Together, as one.

"We're gonna live forever..."