Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The End of Year Feast
Finals were over. Birds were chirping as they flittered from branch to branch. There was a light breeze that was a nice companion to the sunlight casting a comforting light over the grounds of Hogwarts. Many were taking advantage of the weather; exploring the grounds, mingling with friends, or joining games of tag and such. Even the teachers were turning a blind eye to any infractions, specifically dress code infractions, in light of the uplifting weather conditions. Besides, who wants to give a student detention on the last day of school? All in all, it was a wonderful day… That was doing absolutely nothing for me. "Adrian", I complained in a long whine; running a hand over my face as I let out an irritated groan. Instead of being outside, frolicking, and kicking up my heels like our peers, I found myself sitting in an empty classroom with Adrian sitting across from me. As had been our habit for many days now. Ever since he had dragged me out of Hogwarts' underground.
It was expected. No sane person could just take in every piece of information I had thrown at Adrian and just accept it and move on. And I had stopped my explanation at the Chamber of Secrets with the promise of information that may affect the next five years. But this ongoing conversation of ours had been an affair spanning days, weeks. It was to the point that meeting Adrian in this classroom was starting to feel like a rerun of a sitcom. No matter how many times you watch it, the jokes weren't going to change.
I mean, by Merlin! In the time that Adrian first started to ask me all his questions; allowing nothing to be left unsaid, Fred and George had yelled at me, covered me in a substance that made my skin spotted for a day or so, and forgave me for my trip through the plumbing… Mostly.
In that span of time, we had studied for and taken all our final exams. Adrian had revealed the entrance to Chamber by revealing to overlarge pipe under the destroyed sinks to Professor Snape; giving all credit of the find to the potions master. A team of Aurors and specialists had already been on a few expeditions through the school's plumbing. The door to the chamber with the intricate snake lock had been found on the second day of expeditions. They were still trying to figure out how to open it. We, being Adrian and me, had even found a way to suggest that the thing behind the petrifications was a basilisk without getting fingers pointed at us. All of this had also stirred the investigative board of governors into a frenzy, leading to an additional wave of interviews. And despite all those accomplishments, despite how much time had passed, we were still sitting in this classroom during any amount of free time available to us.
Ignoring my whiny complaint, Adrian restated his question, "What is the purpose of Dumbledore having a scar on his knee that is formed like a map of London's underground?"
Removing my hand from covering my face, I showed Adrian my bored expression. "It doesn't have a purpose. At least not in regards to the plot of the story". We could be outside right now. Taking a walk around the lake. Kissing under a tree. Promising to write to each other every day during the summer holiday. You know, normal couple things. But no. We had to do this.
Adrian remained unswayed. "If it was included as a fact in these books you keep referring to then it must have some relevance".
I choked back a swear before it could be breathed into the light of day. Why had I even brought up that little detail about Dumbledore's knee? "You haven't read many works of fiction, have you?" I asked rhetorically. This would surely teach me not to show off. "Adrian, Rowling wasn't Herman Melville. The Harry Potter series wasn't an allegory". I think. "Not every detail was plot-critical".
Pursing his lips Adrian stared down at the parchment he was using to take notes. At the start of this endless conversation, I had protested him writing down anything. This wasn't the type of info you wanted someone to just stumble upon. That'd be like the boy from the NeverEnding Story reading about himself in the magic storybook he came across. But Adrian had insisted. Trust me, he had said. I can charm it to be unreadable, he had promised. "But it isn't fiction", Adrian argued. "Not if you're basing life decisions off its contents".
"It is fiction", I remained strong. "Maybe it wasn't at the beginning, but it became fictional as soon as Fred, George, and I started to change things". Of course, that first change might have been my birth. There was no Holly Weasley in the books after all. Hell, the first change might actually be Adrian's birth. Because while Adrian Pucey did exist in the books, there was no mention of him being the reincarnation of Regulus Black. It was undeterminable when our order of things started to warp from the order of events in the books.
Choosing not to engage me in an argument, Adrian said instead, "I would like to read these books for myself".
Taking a much need breath, I slumped in my chair and stared up at the stone ceiling. That wasn't a bad idea. "We'd have to take a trip to a muggle bookstore", I agreed. Probably the biggest thing that had been hard to talk about was the existence of these books, mostly because I didn't understand it myself. How could these books still exist in the same world that we did? Prior to that time, I had shown Dad how to use a computer at the library, I had believed that Jessie and Holly existed in separate worlds; unable to ever interact with each other. But then I had typed Jessie's alma mater into a search engine and had seen that picture of one of her professors and…. Well, it was food for thought. Maybe it did make more sense that I was in the same world as my first life instead of a parallel one. Adrian had been reborn into the same world, after all. I think. "But I don't know how many books have been published yet", I tacked on as the thought occurred to me. "I don't even know if the first one has been written yet". Never one to remember dates, Jessie had no memory of publication years. But surely, by the 2000s, there would be Harry Potter books for sale in bookstores. Assuming that they would be written in this timeline.
Adrian hummed to himself as he digested my words. "We should still check", he said before looking up from his notes. His grey met my brown. "We can plan a trip this summer. Meet in Diagon Alley and travel through the Leaky Cauldron".
I raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. That, Mr. Pucey sounded an awful lot like a date. But… "We might have to wait until the winter holidays next year", I said. Adrian started asking why with his eyes before I even finished talking. "There's a chance that I might be spending the summer in Egypt", I explained. No letter from home announcing vacation plans or Dad's bout of luck had arrived. And I didn't know when Dad would get his lucky streak or when we'd leave on the trip. But now that Adrian wasn't in the dark, there was no point in not having clear communication. "We may be coming into some money", I continued to explain as Adrian continued to stare at me. "My dad might win the lottery". If something hasn't changed that would affect my dad's choices or the lottery itself.
Adrian squinted his eyes. "You're not…" He started to ask slowly. "Telling your dad what numbers to pick, right?"
It was a struggle to keep my expression unamused. "No", I answered honestly. "Lottery numbers are also not plot-critical. They weren't in the third book. There was just a mention that my dad played and won. Do you will think I would cheat?"
The look Adrian gave me in response wasn't encouraging.
The great hall was filled with good spirits as light-hearted chatter could be heard from every corner of the room. The mandrake restorative draught had been finished. And Collin Creevey had made his first appearance after a very long time. The poor boy who hadn't been on anyone's radar prior to his attack was shocked when he was greeted by many pats on the back. Just about everyone at Gryffindor table wanted to shake his hand. As the only student who had been petrified, Collin's popularity had skyrocketed quite a bit.
Even Mr. Filch seemed to be swept up in tonight's mood as he stood by the doors; holding and stroking an awake and purring Mrs. Norris. The only ones who seemed unaffected by the good nature of the end-of-year feast were the faculty; who sat stiffly and glumly at the teacher's table on the raised dais. They picked at their food; lamb shanks with mint jelly and sides of roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes. Though that might be due to the extra guests this year. E. G. the board that were still haunting Hogwarts halls.
"You want more potatoes?" Lee asked Angelina. "Let me get that for you", he exclaimed before he reached across the table for the serving bowl. Angelina's forgiveness was still a work in progress. Through she had managed to work out most of her frustrations with Fred and George on the quidditch pitch. And our shared dorm no longer felt like hostile ground whenever I was in there with her. Angelina was still speaking to us with short and pointed words, but I think it helped that we were taking it with no snark of our own; only ever responding with 'I'm sorry'. Because our game had hurt her feelings and her anger was deserved.
I think Angelina also forgave me faster than she would have if we had attempted the Angelina competition any other year. It was challenging to stay mad at your friend after she fell victim to a deranged professor. And I was not above using that to my advantage to escape Angelina's justifiable ire.
Lee's road to forgiveness was probably the longest of all. Not because his mistakes were worse than ours, but because he kept making a big show of it. After Angelina had a fresh scoop of mashed potatoes on her plate, Lee proceeded to refill her goblet and compliment her hair, and comment on her wonderful table manners. Lee was willing to do anything under the sun to earn Angelina's pardon and Angelina was smart enough to milk his willingness for everything that it was worth.
"Just look at what you're missing out on", Fred said from my left, referring to the pampering Lee was bestowing upon Angelina.
"Dump Pucey, and put in the time with Lee and that could be all yours", George said from my right.
Rolling my eyes, I took a sip from my goblet before answering. One of these days, they would have to give it a rest. "The fact that you think any girl would enjoy that kind of attention in the long term is concerning".
"We'd prefer Lee over Pucey", George continued.
"If you had to share family secrets, Lee would be our first choice", Fred elaborated around a mouthful of lamb.
Glancing over at Slytherin table, where Adrian appeared to be enthralled in a conversation with Flint, I found my words quickly. "Except it isn't a family secret. It's my secret that I chose to share with you. That I later chose to share with Adrian".
As always, my fellow triplets could be trusted to sniff out the line of fault in my reasoning. "Only you hadn't meant to tell him". Fred said after he had swallowed. "You were forced to tell him".
"When he found you underground with- what was it, Fred?", George asked as I shoved asparagus in my mouth to keep myself from scoffing. George knew very well what Adrian had found me with. Him asking Fred was just his way to irritate me. And he knew it.
"A rubber chicken", Fred supplied far too casually for it to be genuine.
"A rubber chicken", George repeated with a pointed look in my direction. I frowned at George but kept my mouth shut. Yes, yes. Everyone knows that you and Fred are the smarter of us triplets. "And now Pucey knows everything we know and everything we've done".
"What's more, Pucey now wants to be the one to call the shots", Fred added.
Oh, this song and dance was getting old. "Both of you wanted to take a step back. Adrian wants to take a step forward. Maybe this is for the best", I tried to reason. But we weren't there yet.
"You were supposed to take a step back with us", George said.
"Not ditch us to charge ahead with Pucey", Fred finished.
A part of me wanted to just scream that the whole reason I was doing any of this was to make sure a Weasley didn't die. That I was doing the best I could. But I didn't. Partially because it would be bad form to do so during the end-of-year feast, but also because I didn't believe they would believe me. Not when I had been willing to die in the Chamber of Secrets in order to take out the Basilisk.
It wasn't long before dinner cleared and in its place were berry tarts and house-elf-made ice cream. The smells alone were enough to soothe any discomfort. Kind of like how Mum would make an apple crumble on a rainy day when we were all stuck inside, stepping on each other's toes. Maybe that's why it had been served.
Once everyone had time to grab a serving, Dumbledore stood up from his chair. He took his time as he walked around the teacher's table to reach the podium. The same podium that was used whenever he needed to address the whole school. The slow pace allowed for people's attention to be directed to the headmaster without being asked. Something about Dumbledore's posture was solemn and wrong. Not at all fitting to what we had come to expect with the end-of-year feast. But standing behind his podium, Dumbledore started as he always did. "Another year, gone". Silence fell across the great hall. "And what a year it has been. As always, my dear students, you have honored me with your tenacious endeavors and youthful attitudes. Especially as you took on this turbulent year".
Despite bickering only moments before, Fred, George, and I all shared a concerned look. This… wasn't how the end-of-year speech was supposed to go. It had always been more along the lines of congratulating us for surviving final exams and informing us which house had won the cup. So, what was all this sentiment about?
Dumbledore paused to look around the room. His blue eyes were not twinkling. "I will carry the memories of our time together for as long as I am able. I will carry all the memories I have of my time as an educator and headmaster of Hogwarts". That statement sent waves of confused murmurs through the student body. But it sent dread to sinking into the pit of my stomach. Uh-oh. Dumbledore remained calm as he continued speaking. "The board of governors, after having conducted a thorough investigation, have reached their conclusion".
Like many, Dumbledore's words had me directing my eyes over to the guests seated at the teacher's table. Lord Flint wasn't amongst them, but from the faces that I recognized, Umbridge and Malfoy Sr. were looking far too pleased with themselves. "With the best interest of the school and its students in mind, I've been asked to step down as Hogwarts' headmaster".
The murmuring became louder; swapping confusion for disagreement. Well… except at the Slytherin table. One student, either brave or just didn't realize how loud he was talking, blurted out, "It's all Lockhart's fault!"
I bit my lip. Yeah… sure… Let's keep the blame on Lockhart. I thought as guilt bubbled in my gut. I must have made a face, because despite not being terribly pleased with me, Fred swung an arm over my shoulders and tucked me into his side. Down the way, the golden trio had their heads bent together; turning over this new information along with everyone else.
Dumbledore gave us a moment to process; a glum smile on his face. But when everyone had settled a little, he continued. "While I am sad to be leaving you, I am pleased to announce the promotion of my esteemed colleague and long-time friend. Professor Minerva McGonagall has agreed to take on the mantle and become Hogwarts' Headmistress".
Another wave of conversation broke out. But this time Dumbledore didn't give us a minute to recover. He raised his hands; silencing the hall. "As such, I feel that now is the best time to pass the torch by sharing in a Hogwarts tradition". Dumbledore turned so he was half facing his deputy head. "Professor McGonagall, please join me and present the winners of the house-cup".
It was a woeful affair to watch McGonagall rise and move to stand aside Dumbledore. The other members of staff, baring Snape, were alternating from expressions of congratulations for McGonagall, and mourning frowns for Dumbledore.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore", McGonagall said; her voice as stern as ever, but it held a soft edge to it. She had her lips pressed together as she turned to face the student body. "In fourth place, Gryffindor house with 375 points". There was barely a reaction. Not even a disappointed one as McGonagall revealed the results of the house cup to us. Nothing was going to upstage Dumbledore being sacked. "In third place, Hufflepuff house with 400 points". The students seated at Hufflepuff table politely clapped, but there was no heart in the action.
Dumbledore placed a hand on McGonagall's shoulder. He gave it a small squeeze, before retreating and starting a lonely trek down from the dais. He walked between the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw table, heading for the doors. Heads swiveled in his direction to watch as Dumbledore passed by. "In second place", McGonagall had to pause when her voice started to waver in an uncharacteristic fashion. "Ravenclaw house with 430 points".
When Dumbledore walked past myself and my fellow triplets, I reacted like everyone else. My head turned to watch the wizard go. Fred's arm fell from my shoulders; feeling just as off as most people were by this announcement. Compelled by something I couldn't label, I stood up. Neither Fred nor George tried to stop me as McGonagall continued, "Congratulations to Slytherin house for finishing in first place with 435 points".
The celebration was lackluster as McGonagall waved her wand, causing the decorations in the hall to change to green and silver. I barely noticed them at all as I chased after Dumbledore. Reaching the doors a moment after he had slipped through them.
Pursuing further, I managed to catch him in the entrance hall. Right in front of the grand staircase. 'Sir, please wait", I called.
Dumbledore turned with his hands clasped together behind his back. His eyes were still void of their usual sparkle, but he didn't look surprised to see me.
About three feet away from him, I stopped walking. It was unclear to me why I had followed him. But now that I was here… "I'm sorry", I said; staring at my feet. "I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen".
"Miss Weasley", Dumbledore started. His grandfatherly voice washed over me, pulling my attention away from my shoes. "I hold no blame against you. As I believe I've stated before, I trust things to turn out as they are meant to be regardless of what you choose to do".
My nose scrunched up. What… But that didn't… What? "Sir, you're not meant to leave Hogwarts". Emotion crept into my voice making it go up an octave. At least, Dumbledore wasn't meant to leave Hogwarts until the end of Ron's sixth year. "I-I got you fired. Please have the decency to be mad at me! Even if it's just a little". My hands balled into fists at my sides. This would be so much easier if Dumbledore was angry. At least, I would know what to do with anger.
But all Dumbledore did was take a step back as he turned his head; taking in the architect of the entrance hall. "There are many different paths a person can take to end up at their final destination. I thank you for helping me find a different way".
After hearing more cryptic words, I was forced to accept defeat. Sighing, I flattened out my hands and used one of them to rub the skin under my left eyebrow. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. "What will you do?" I asked.
Dumbledore took his time answering as he looked around the entrance hall with fondness. A fondness that was breaking my heart. "It's been a while since I've been afforded the chance to travel. And I've heard that Albania is nice this time of year".
Not Albania. Why is it always Albania? I opened my mouth to warn Dumbledore of just that. But at the last second, I decided not to. What would be the point? The last time I had exchanged words with Dumbledore, he hadn't been moved to make any changes. So instead, I said, "Sir, one day you're going to hunt down a ring. Please. Don't put it on".
At my warning, Dumbledore's eyes regained their twinkle. Which was a weird time for that to happen. He didn't offer me a yes or a no. He didn't ask any questions or repeat his old advice of guarding my knowledge. Instead, Dumbledore reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a single scarlet and gold feather. "A gift", Dumbledore declared as he held out the feather to me; holding it by its quill between his thumb and index finger. Not sure where this was going, I accept the feather very slowly. Dumbledore waited until I was pinching the feather between my fingers and was staring at it intensely before continuing. "From one phoenix to another".
I tilted my head to the side in confusion as I continued to start at the feather. What was I supposed to do with a feather? I mean, it was a pretty feather. It would make a pretty hair decoration. But why would Fawkes give me a feather? That question led to the perplexing thought of a phoenix gifting anyone a present. Let along through a proxy. The more logical question was why Dumbledore would give me one of Fawkes' feathers. And then there was what he had said. One phoenix to another…. When I pulled myself from my thoughts and was able to look away from the feather, Dumbledore was gone.