Saturday 26 February, 1994:
The headmaster's office was unusually silent. There were no mutterings from the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses; instead, they were all watching the incumbent and the young woman sitting opposite him, who were looking at each other just as soundlessly.
Lena was sitting very still, her black-veined hands folded in her lap. Dumbledore was leaning forward on his elbows, his bearded chin resting on top of his interlocked fingers. Their eyes were direct in their contact.
Then Dumbledore sighed, and leaned back into his chair. "There really is nothing more I can do for you, Lena."
Lena nodded. "I know," she said simply. She had made her choice.
As the water rushed into the common room, it parted around Lena, leaving a bubble of air around her. Everyone else was not so lucky.
There were screams as the water swept the other five Slytherins off their feet, and pulled them under. Lena could see them through the water, their eyes bulging, desperately trying to reach the surface but being weighed down by their water-logged robes. They were trying to scream, but no sound came out of their mouths, only bubbles.
In under thirty seconds, the water had reached the room's ceiling. Lena watched the students struggling, her face expressionless. Runcorn's eyes found her, and the drowning girl desperately mouthed something: 'We did it.'
Lena cocked her head as Runcorn mouthed the words over and over again. To Runcorn's left, Selwyn's thrashing was becoming slower, her eyes glazing over. She started clutching at her throat. It was clear that Warrington, Bulstrode and Murton were also running out of air.
If she sent the water back out now, and offered them the choice to confess to Dumbledore again, Lena was certain that they would take it over drowning. But she had given them a deadline for that option, and they had passed it. They had to face the consequences for that decision – Lena's consequences.
"If someone did what he did to somebody you cared about, you'd kill them."
Lena went still as Harry's words echoed in her head. "Perhaps I would," she had replied back then. Now, she was about to find out.
There would be consequences for her for killing these students. But the biggest consequence meant she wouldn't have to live with the rest of them for very long. No, she'd just die with the reputation of being a murderer. At least she wouldn't leave behind a legacy of weakness.
Runcorn was the last of the five to stop struggling. None were dead yet, but they would be in less than a minute. But now, Lena couldn't get Harry's face out of her mind.
"But I'm trying to be better now," she had told him when they spoke after the Chamber of Secrets." I promise."
Harry had believed her when she'd promised him. He hadn't needed to – nevertheless, he had. And Lena owed him for that.
Dying was no excuse for breaking a promise.
As quickly as the lake's water had flooded the room, it rushed back out. The glass from the wall reassembled itself, sealing off the common room. Five bedraggled bodies now lay on the ground. Turning to their sides, they coughed the water out of their lungs.
"I'll give you five minutes to recover," said Lena quietly, and five pairs of terrified eyes turned to her. "Once you can walk and talk, you will go straight to Dumbledore and tell him what role you played in the attack on Skelton."
There was no need for an 'or else'. She knew they would do it. She had done what had to be done.
Leaving her housemates still shivering and spluttering on the floor, Lena exited the common room, only just able to conceal the fact that now she could barely keep herself upright.
"Would you have killed them, if they hadn't confessed?"
Lena shrugged. "Honestly," she said, "I couldn't tell you."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Four voluntary withdrawals, and one expulsion," he commented. "I should really be adding one more name to that list."
Lena raised an eyebrow. "But you're not?"
"I don't think there would be much point to that." There was an uncharacteristic dryness to Dumbledore's voice. "We won't get the blood test results until tomorrow night at the earliest, but I can't imagine you have more than a month left – most likely not even that."
After Lena had passed out, Lupin had brought her straight up to Dumbledore's office. She'd been unconscious for about twelve hours, during which time Dumbledore had taken a blood sample and sent it off to the IHO. Not that it really mattered – the fact that the black veins had almost reached her jaw was enough of an indication of how much time she had left.
"Besides," Dumbledore added, "none of your housemates admitted to your... involvement in their decisions to come forward. According to them, their confessions were completely of their own volition." He raised his eyebrows. "Remarkably considerate of Tara Selwyn to snap her own wand in half, and save a Ministry official the bother."
"How long do you think her sentence will be?" asked Lena, mildly curious.
"Six months," replied Dumbledore, "going by previous similar instances."
"There's not going to be a lot of Seventh Year Slytherins left," remarked Lena.
"A smaller than usual group," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure Miss Skelton's absence over the next few weeks will be keenly felt too."
Lena looked down at her lap so that Dumbledore would not see the feelings of pain and guilt that had crossed her face. One of the first things that the headmaster had told her when she'd woken was that the St. Mungo's healers had said that Maggie would eventually make a full recovery, but would have to remain in the hospital for at least two more weeks.
'She wouldn't be there in the first place if I hadn't pushed her away,' thought Lena. It had been stupid of her to think she'd been protecting Maggie.
"And what will you do?"
Lena glanced up at Dumbledore. "Do?"
"Over these next few weeks," clarified Dumbledore, although his omission of the word 'last' hung uncomfortably in the air.
Lena considered this. "I think I'd like to go to the Lestrange Estate," she finally said. "The time I spent there as a child might not have been the happiest, but it is mine. I think it's the place to spend my remaining days."
"I see," replied Dumbledore. "When do you wish to leave?"
"Would tomorrow be all right?" asked Lena. "Or would you prefer me to go immediately?"
"I think we can delay your departure until tomorrow."
"Thank you, I appreciate it."
Dumbledore inclined his head. There was a pause, before he said, "There is something I would like to ask you. Yesterday, just before Professor McGonagall arrived, you appeared to come to some sort of realisation concerning Dementors and souls. What was it?"
Lena smiled bitterly. She hadn't forgotten her epiphany. How could she, now her death was so imminent? "I figured out from where Hecate's Orb gets its power," she explained quietly. "See, if the consumption of a soul strengthens a Dementor, and Dementors are creations of the Orb, then it stands to reason that's what the Orb does: when it kills a person, instead of the soul being able to move on, it's absorbed into it."
Dumbledore frowned. "But that means..." His eyes widened slightly.
"Yes," said Lena. "When the Orb's magic finally kills me, my soul won't move on. I won't even have the option of becoming a ghost. The Orb will take it, and there'll be nothing left of me."
"And even knowing that," said Dumbledore softly, "you still decided to use magic, and cut your life even shorter."
Lena didn't reply.
She had made her choice. The only thing left now was to make sure she didn't go back on it.
As Lena climbed the stairs to Lupin's office, she removed the scarf Dumbledore had given her to hide the black veins on her neck as she walked through the castle. She didn't need to conceal them from the Defence teacher.
Reaching his door, Lena paused before knocking on it, swallowing nervously. Her final memory before she had passed out yesterday was of Lupin rushing towards her, his face both angry and frightened. She wondered how much he now knew of what had happened in the common room.
Steeling herself, she knocked. There came a sound of hurried movement from within, and a few seconds later the door was pulled open, and Lena was greeted by the sight of a dishevelled Lupin. She couldn't be entirely sure, but he seemed to be wearing the same shirt and trousers as the previous day. He had, however, discarded his robe and tie, and his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, and he looked even more tired than usual, as if he hadn't slept at all last night.
"Hi," said Lena quietly.
About half a dozen different emotions passed over Lupin's face at once, too quickly for Lena to identify all of them. His right hand jerked, as if he was going to reach out and touch her, but then decided against it. At last, his expression settled, becoming surprisingly stony.
"You're not dead, then," he said, an unexpectedly cold indifference to his voice.
"Not yet," replied Lena, trying to hide her discomfort at the hard stare he was giving her.
"How long?" he asked after a short pause.
"Probably three weeks," answered Lena, struggling to maintain eye contact when all she wanted to do was look at anywhere but him. "Maybe four."
Lupin nodded jerkily. Then there was another painful silence.
After about ten seconds, Lena was unable to bear anymore, and broke it. "May I come in?" she asked cautiously.
A muscle twitched in Lupin's clenched jaw. It took a few seconds for him to reply, "Yeah, you might as well." Then he turned around and went over to his desk.
Hesitantly, Lena crossed the threshold and shut the door. She watched Lupin as he stood behind his desk, shuffling through a pile of papers and resolutely not looking at her. But the tension in his posture was evident.
Lena crossed her arms tightly, almost hugging herself. She felt confused; she didn't know what she had expected from Lupin, but whatever it'd been, it wasn't this.
"When did you wake up?" asked Lupin abruptly, his gaze still fixed on his desk.
Lena glanced at her watch. "Around two hours ago," she said. Feeling the need to elaborate, she added, "I came here as soon as I finished talking to Dumbledore."
Lupin acknowledged this with a "Hmm" noise, but still didn't look up at her.
There was yet another long, uncomfortable silence, before Lena said, "Aren't you going to ask me what happened yesterday?"
In response, she received an almost derisive snort from Lupin. "Why would I need to?" he asked tersely, picking up a quill to make a note on a piece of parchment. "It's fairly obvious what happened: you got mad about the attack on your friend and used magic to inflict some form of torture upon your housemates so they would confess. What else do I need to– bugger!" He had clenched the quill so tightly that it had snapped in two.
Lena watched, bewildered, as he threw the two halves of the quill into a bin with considerable force, then leant forward against the desk, his back to her. He was gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles were white. The indifference, it seemed, was a facade.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, incredulous.
Lupin went rigid. Then slowly, he turned around to face her.
"Mad at you?" he said quietly, staring at her with an unsettling intensity. Then he smiled bitterly. "Bloody hell, I want to be."
Lena was so disconcerted by his expression and tone that she almost took a step back. His whole demeanour was making him almost unrecognisable to her.
"But I'm not allowed to be," continued Lupin, turning around and snatching up another quill, "am I? Because I wasn't allowed to be mad at James and Lily for not accepting Dumbledore's offer to be their Secret Keeper, when that obviously would have been the safest choice." He finished writing his note and threw the quill back down on the desk. "I'm not allowed to be mad at Peter for being an idiot and getting himself blown up by Sirius." He turned back to Lena. "So why should this be any different?" he asked, clenching his fists. "I mean, you were just trying to get justice for your friend, right? So what right do I have to get angry at you for putting her life above your own? Why would I be allowed to be mad at you, when you're going to be dead in less than a month?"
The venom in his voice made Lena flinch. It was the first time he'd been angry at her since he'd found out about her history with Voldemort.
"You have to understand–" she began to say, but was cut off by Lupin.
"No, you have to understand," he said heatedly, taking a step closer to her. "When I was leaving Dumbledore's office, after taking you up there, I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. I thought maybe that was it, that you were gone." His face almost spasmed with conflicting emotions. "And I – I–Ugh!" he shouted in frustration, closing his eyes and clutching his temples.
Lena was so focused on Lupin's face that she barely noticed her hands were trembling. When she had made her decision to use magic, she had done so with the full knowledge of the consequences for her. She hadn't considered what effect it might have on anyone else.
Lupin's hands dropped back to his sides and he opened his eyes. His expression appeared to regain some of its former bitter calmness, and he moved back to his desk.
"I've known you for less than six months, Lena," he said, tidying up the stacks of parchment and putting the quill back in the pot that held his others. "Not even six months. And in that short time..." He paused, looking up at her. "You made me care about you," he finally said. "More than I've cared about anyone in a long time." He looked down at his feet and shook his head slightly, chuckling mirthlessly. Still staring down, he continued, "Because that's what you do, isn't it? You keep a wall up between yourself and everyone else, and then the moment you open up to one of us," his eyes flicked back up to her, "you suck us in."
A lump was forming in Lena's throat, making it hard to breathe. Her head was a whirlwind of emotions and confusion.
"We're like moths to a flame," said Lupin, sitting on the edge of the desk, and shoving his hands in his pockets, "not caring if we get burnt. Because to be worthy of Lena Lestrange's attention means that there has to be something special about us, right?" He laughed again, harsh and disbelieving. "I mean, fucking hell – you even made Lord Voldemort care about you!"
Unable to put a voice to anything she was feeling at that moment, Lena blurted out, "What happened to having boundaries?"
"What happened to eight or nine years?" responded Lupin coldly.
Lena recoiled. The way he was looking at her made her want to hide.
'No,' an indignant internal voice said, 'he doesn't get to make you feel bad about this. He has no idea what it's been like.'
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I'm sorry if this hurts you. I really am. And I wish that having people in my life that I care about was enough reason to keep going, to continue living for as long as I can." She smiled sadly. "But it isn't enough. Not for me. I realised that yesterday when faced with the choice of doing nothing for Maggie, or ensuring that her attackers were punished." She shrugged slightly. "I can't see the point in clinging onto a life where I'm useless."
Lupin frowned. "You're not useless, Lena."
"But I am," said Lena quickly. "Without magic, I am. Without magic, I'm not really me." She moved closer to Lupin. "I think the main reason I held on as long as I did was because of you. You made it bearable."
"Not bearable enough," muttered Lupin, looking down.
Without really thinking about it, Lena reached out and gently cupped his chin, tilting it back up. It was bristly, as he obviously hadn't shaved today. Lupin's eyes widened slightly at the intimacy of her gesture, causing Lena to quickly let go.
"If you knew what I felt every morning these past five months when I've woken up and remembered I can't use magic," she said, "you'd understand just how much your friendship has meant to me, Professor."
Lupin gazed at her intently, then quietly said, "You might as well call me Remus, seeing as it's been a couple of months since I actually taught you anything."
Lena gave him a small smile. "If you wish. Actually, as of tomorrow I'm no longer a student here, so I suppose that would be quite appropriate."
"What do you mean ?" asked Lupin concernedly, standing up. "Dumbledore expelled you?"
"No, I'm voluntarily leaving," explained Lena. "I've decided to spend my last few weeks at the Lestrange house."
Pain flickered across Lupin's face when she said 'last few weeks'. Then he bit his lip.
"It doesn't have to be, though, does it?" he said slowly. "If you contacted Valeriya , and asked her–"
"I'm not asking Valeriya to bring me the Orb," interrupted Lena.
"But Lena," he pleaded, grabbing her hands and holding them tightly, "you told me yourself, you've changed so much in the last six years. If you had it again now, things would be different–"
"No, they wouldn't," said Lena quietly. She sighed."Remus, I didn't need to threaten and hurt those students. If all I cared about was finding the truth, I could have just used Legilimency." She gazed into his eyes imploringly. "I hurt them because I wanted to. I enjoyed drowning them. I wanted to kill them. And I would have done, if it wasn't for the promise I made Harry."
"What promise?" asked Lupin – Remus.
"That I try to be a better person. And asking Valeriya for the Orb would be breaking that."
"But–"
"And I've told Dumbledore that in my last week, when I inevitably start asking for the Orb, that under no circumstance does he allow it to fall into my possession." She swallowed, trying to stop the lump forming in her throat again. "No matter how much I beg for it."
Remus stared back at her hopelessly. He opened his mouth, but it took a few attempts for any sound to come out. At last, he whispered, "But you'd be alive."
Lena felt a painful twinge in her heart, and this time, she didn't think it was because of the Orb's magic.
Sunday 27 February, 1994:
A cool, gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the Forbidden Forest. There was a chill in the air, but with the scarf around her neck, Lena barely noticed it. Her attention was fixed on the Thestrals milling around in front of her. She had decided to pay them one last visit before she left Hogwarts in less than a hour.
Mortimer was perched on her shoulder. He hadn't left her side since she'd returned to her dormitory the previous evening. Lena wasn't sure if he fully understood what was happening to her, but he was aware of enough to be worried.
She'd had an ulterior motive for coming down to the Forest that afternoon. It had been her plan to tell Mortimer to go off exploring, and then depart before he found her again. She didn't want the bowtruckle to have to watch her over the next few weeks as her life gradually ebbed away. But now, she didn't want to leave him. Mortimer had been her most constant companion over the last four years – saying goodbye to him was too painful. Which was why she had planned to sneak off without saying it, but it turned out just the act of leaving him behind was more unbearable than she'd imagined.
Lena had already said goodbye once today, even if Harry hadn't realised that was what she'd been doing. She had framed it more as 'au revoir'.
"You're leaving?" said Harry, dismayed.
"My health has worsened," Lena told him. "Considerably. I need to take some time away from Hogwarts."
They were in the secret semi-circle room at the top of the tower. Lena was perched on the arm of one of the chairs, and Harry was standing opposite her.
"But when will you be back?" he asked.
Lena did her best to keep her face neutral. "I don't know," she said, "but I suspect it won't be any time soon."
"Why aren't you going to St. Mungo's?"
"Nobody there has any experience with my... affliction," explained Lena.
Harry frowned. "But somebody does, right? And they're going to take fulltime care of you at your house?"
Lena nodded. "Dumbledore's arranged somebody to look after me." She didn't tell Harry that the somebody was just one of the Hogwarts' house-elves, and the care would be more palliative in nature than healing.
Biting his lip, Harry nodded. Unhappiness, however, was clearly written upon his face.
Lena sighed, and pulled off the gloves she'd been wearing to hide the black veins on her hands. Harry blanched at the sight of them, but before he could say anything, Lena said, "Come here," and gestured for him to move closer to her. He did so, and she reached out to take his hands in her own. Holding them firmly, she said softly, "I know this year has been difficult for you, Harry – the Dementors around Hogwarts, finding out the truth about Sirius Black. But I know you'll get through it all." She gave him a small smile. "Because you're brave. And..." She hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him what she wanted.
"What?" asked Harry, after a few seconds of silence.
Lena made up her mind. "Because I know," she said, earnestly looking into his eyes, "that when it comes down to it, you'll do the right thing. No matter what."
'Even when you find out you're a Horcrux,' she thought. 'You'll do the right thing, even then.'
Harry stared back at her for a few moments, then nodded slowly. "I'll try," he murmured.
"I know you will," whispered Lena. She held his hands a couple of seconds longer, then let go. "Right," she said briskly, "seeing as I'm not going to be able to check your homework any time soon, let's go over everything you've done so far this term, and what's likely to come up for the rest of the year. We'll start with Charms."
After they had finished their impromptu tutorial session, Harry had told Lena that he would write to her. She wondered how many letters she would get to read.
She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of footsteps behind her. Expecting it to be Hagrid, Lena turned around to promise him it would be the last time he would catch her out-of-bounds in the Forest, only to be shocked when she saw that it was in fact Rolf who was approaching.
He, however, didn't seem at all surprised to see her there. He came to a stop a couple of metres away from Lena. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and he was regarding her with an odd expression.
They hadn't spoken to each other in nearly five months, and for whatever reason Rolf had sought Lena out, he appeared to be struggling to put it into words. So for a short while, an awkward silence hung between them.
At last, Rolf broke it. "Hagrid told me you'd probably be in here."
Lena nodded uncertainly. "Right."
Rolf pursed his lips. After another pause, he said, "There's a story going around that you're the reason Selwyn and the others confessed to attacking Maggie."
Lena didn't reply.
"Is it true?" asked Rolf, when a response wasn't forthcoming.
"Why do you care?"
Rolf took a step forward. "Because that doesn't sound like the Lena Lestrange of the last five months. It sounds like the Lena who used to be one of my best friends. And I wasn't sure if she still existed." He crossed his arms, and raised his eyebrows. "So does she?"
Lena bit her lip, and pushed a loose strand of hair back up to where the rest of it was piled on top of her head."It's complicated," she said.
"Fuck you."
His sudden coarseness actually made Lena take a step back. "I'm sorry?"
"Fuck you, Lena," repeated Rolf, glaring at her. "'It's complicated' is a shit answer, and you know it. I deserve more than that."
Lena stared at him. She wasn't used to Rolf being so assertive – Maggie had normally been the one to call Lena out.
But Maggie wasn't here right now to do that – because Lena had pushed her away. So Lena made up her mind.
"I'm dying," she said bluntly.
Rolf's expression turned from angry to stunned in a heartbeat. "What?"
"I've been sick since September," said Lena, "and I thought I had years left, but now I've only got a few weeks."
Rolf looked at her in disbelief. "Since September?" His eyes widened in realisation. "That's why you ended things with us?"
"I thought everything would be simpler if you just hated me," explained Lena, shrugging. "Maybe it was arrogant of me, but I thought it would be unkind to let you watch me die." She pulled off her scarf, showing Rolf the black veins.
Rolf stared at her neck, aghast. "What happened?"
"To cut a long story short, I messed with a Dark artefact when I was eleven. It... infected me, but that infection remained dormant until last September, when it started to spread. The only way to slow it down was to not use my magic. But on Friday I did."
"For Maggie," muttered Rolf, his eyes still fixed on the veins.
"That was the motivating factor. But also..." Lena took a deep breath. "Also because I was sick of not living as a witch."
"Hang on," said Rolf, his gaze snapping back up to her face, "are you saying you haven't been using magic this entire year?"
"Pretty much."
"But how can we have not noticed?" Before Lena could respond, Rolf answered his own question. "Your private lessons with Dumbledore – that was to hide it!"
Lena nodded.
"So Dumbledore knows that you're–" Rolf abruptly stopped, his face paling. "Merlin," he croaked, "you're dying." It seemed the fact was only sinking in now.
"Yes," said Lena quietly.
Rolf's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Bloody hell, Lena. Why didn't you tell us?"
"As I said, I didn't want to cause you and Maggie any pain."
"But we're your friends!" cried Rolf, moving closer to her. "That's what friends are supposed to do – be there for each other, even when it's hard!"
Lena shrugged. "It just seemed selfish to me."
She froze as Rolf suddenly wrapped his arms around her in a hug.
"Asking people to care about you isn't selfish, Lena," he said. "It's... well, it's human."
"You sound like your grandfather," said Lena softly.
Rolf drew back slightly so he could look at her. "Good," he said matter-of-factly. "He's a very intelligent man."
"Yeah," whispered Lena. "He is." And unable to restrain herself, she threw her arms around Rolf's neck and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry," she apologised, her body beginning to tremble. "I'm so sorry for hurting you and Maggie, I thought it was the right thing to do, but it wasn't, and I'm sorry–" She broke off as a sob burst out.
She couldn't see Rolf's expression, but she could hear the surprise in his voice when he said, "Lena!"
"And – I'm – never – going – to – see – Maggie – again!" Lena choked out between sobs, tears streaming down her face. "I'm – going – to die – with her – hating me!"
"She won't hate you, Lena," said Rolf, rubbing her back. "I'll tell her what you did for her, why you pushed us away."
Lena couldn't formulate a reply; she was crying too much.
They stood there like that – the weeping Lena clinging to Rolf, who had also started to cry – until Lena had no more tears left. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from Rolf and checked her watch.
"I have to head back up to the castle now," she told him, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I'm supposed to be leaving in half an hour."
"Leaving?" asked Rolf, frowning. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"
"To the Lestrange Estate," said Lena, pulling the scarf out of her robe pocket. Mortimer, who had crawled into the pocket while she and Rolf had been hugging, was clinging to the scarf. Holding the bowtruckle in one hand, she put the scarf back on with the other. "I'm going to spend my last few weeks there."
"But there's so much you haven't told me–"
"I'll write a letter," promised Lena. "To explain everything I don't have time to now." She smiled sadly. "I owe you that"
Rolf nodded slowly, his expression miserable. "So this..." He trailed off as his eyes began to leak once more.
"This is goodbye," Lena finished for him gently. Looking at Mortimer in her hand, an idea struck her. "Rolf, will you do me a favour?"
"Anything."
Lena held out the hand holding Mortimer. "I need you to take Mortimer."
Mortimer's tiny eyes widened, and he started making frantic squeaking noises. He tried to climb back up her arm, but Lena grabbed him firmly with her other hand.
"He needs a human companion," continued Lena, "and you know how to take care of him." She tried to hand Mortimer to Rolf, but the small, green creature squealed and struggled desperately. Sighing, Lena raised him so their eyes were level. "You can't stay with me, Mortimer. You have to go with Rolf."
Mortimer shook his head wildly, clinging to Lena's hand.
"I'm going to be dead in a month's time," she said, trying to reason with him. A small, choking noise escaped Rolf, as he tried to hold back a sob. Lena did her best to ignore it. "Do you want to be on your own after I die?"
Mortimer hung his head, letting out a small defeated noise.
"I thought not," said Lena. She held him back out to Rolf, and this time Mortimer allowed himself to be taken, although his thin arms feebly reached out for Lena.
"I'll look after him, Lena," said Rolf earnestly. "I promise."
"I know you will." She took one last look back at the Thestrals, who had all been intently watching her conversation with Rolf. Then she turned back to her friend, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for everything," she whispered.
Rolf opened his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he, Mortimer and the Thestrals watched in silence as Lena left the Forbidden Forest for what she supposed would be the last time.
Thursday 10 March, 1994:
It was the third time Remus had been to the Lestrange Estate in the last two weeks, but as he walked down the path leading to the front door, it was still difficult not to be awestruck by Lena's ancestral home. He remembered being stunned by the size of James' parents' house when he was a teenager, but the Lestrange house was a whole other beast.
It was three storeys high, and almost five hundred feet in width, an enormous stone building that looked like something out of a gothic fairytale. It certainly looked the part of someone like Lena's home; yet it still perplexed Remus that she had decided to spend her last days in a place that held so many awful memories. Even he'd felt sickened the first time he'd entered the house, vividly recalling Lena's memory of her mother using the Cruciatus Curse on her.
'But it's also the site of her happiest memory,' he had remembered , which hadn't done anything to lessen the queasy feeling in his stomach. The first time he had visited Lena in her room, it had been impossible not to think about all the times Voldemort had been there – and how much Lena had looked forward to those visits.
After Remus had spoken with Lena the Saturday before the last, he had gone to see Dumbledore to request permission to leave the school grounds, if he had the spare time, to visit Lena at her home. Dumbledore had acquiesced without hesitation, not appearing to find his member-of-staff's desire to visit one of the students at her house at all strange or inappropriate. On the contrary, he seemed to regard the closeness that had developed between the werewolf professor and the dying Head Girl as quite natural.
Reaching the front door, he grasped the iron doorknocker, which was underneath a giant engraving of a raven, and banged it against the door three times.
After five seconds, the door was pulled open, to reveal a house-elf.
"Professor Lupin!" said Tizzy, with a big smile. "Tizzy is very glad you are here! Miss Lena has been very much looking forward to your visit today!"
"How is she?" asked Lupin, stepping inside. Tizzy held her hands up for Remus' robe, which he slipped off and gave to her. "Thank you."
Tizzy's smile had faltered slightly when Remus asked about Lena. "Miss Lena is..." She hesitated. "... Is in good spirits," she eventually said, throwing Remus' robe onto the coat rack.
"I see," said Remus, drawing his lips into a thin line. Although he had only seen her twice since she'd left Hogwarts, the deterioration of her health had been very obvious both times. The entire day he had been worrying about just how much worse she would be when he saw her that evening – a valid concern, apparently.
"Can Tizzy get Professor Lupin anything?" asked Tizzy, plastering the fake smile back on her face. "A cup of tea?"
"That would be lovely, thank you," said Remus distractedly, his mind preoccupied by Lena's rapidly deteriorating condition. "I'll head up to see her now."
"If Professor Lupin is sure he can find his way–"
"I am," interrupted Remus, walking further into the house. Worried he'd been a little too brusque with the house-elf, he looked back at Tizzy, whose ears had started to droop. "Thank you, Tizzy," he added, trying to give her a grateful smile.
Tizzy nodded, then disappeared with a pop, no doubt to the kitchen to make Remus his tea.
Navigating his way through the many corridors and staircases, Remus eventually found himself outside Lena's room. He took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
"Come in."
He opened the door to see Lena was sitting on her bed, leant up against a stack of pillows, a book in her hands. Her hair was in a loose plait that fell down in front of her shoulder. For as long as he had known her, she had always looked unhealthily thin. Now, she was practically skeletal.
She smiled at Remus. "Hey," she greeted him.
"Hi," replied Remus, with half-hearted attempt at returning the smile. He crossed over to Lena's bed.
Lena held up the book she was reading to show him the cover.
Remus raised his eyebrows. "Hamlet?"
"It's excellent," Lena told him. "Do you know anything about it?"
Remus took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It's one of Shakespeare's, isn't it?" he said, trying to remember his mother's collection of literature. "A tragedy?"
Lena nodded. "About a son seeking revenge for his father's murder. But so much more than that too."
"Yeah? How so?"
"Well, Hamlet's a bit of a philosopher," explained Lena, flicking back through the book. "There was this speech he gave about halfway through, and it was just so good. You've probably heard the opening line: 'To be or not to be'."
"This is what it's from?"
"Yeah," replied Lena, her eyes scanning the pages. "Here it is." She glanced up at Remus. "Just listen to this..." She cleared her throat, then began to read aloud: "To be, or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. To die – to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to." She paused, looking back up at Remus, smiling. "Brilliant, isn't it?"
As Lena had been reading, Remus' expression had slowly settled into a frown. "It sounds awfully like he's contemplating whether to kill himself or not."
"Exactly," said Lena. "He's debating whether it's better to live a life of suffering, or to end that life and move on to whatever might come next – even though we don't know if what awaits us is worse. It's about the certainty of pain versus the fear of the unknown. Here..." She began reading again. "To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life." Lena gazed at the page, shaking her head in amazement. "It's just incredible how he articulates it."
"Hamlet?"
Lena chuckled. "No, Shakespeare." She gestured to her bedside table, upon which sat a pile of books. "I've read eight of his plays so far – Hamlet's the ninth, and I'm almost done – and there's something just unbelievably good in all of them." She briefly grimaced. "Except The Taming of the Shrew. That's just dodgy. But–" She reached over and grabbed a piece of parchment lying next to the pile of books, "–listen to these."
"What is that?"
"Oh, I've been writing down all the really good lines," replied Lena casually. "I was hoping to find a good one to use as an epitaph on my gravestone."
Remus suddenly stood, clenching his fists. "Stop it," he snapped.
Lena arched an eyebrow. "Stop what?"
"Being so fucking flippant about it," hissed Remus. "It's not – not–"
"Not what?" asked Lena, her tone becoming colder. "Not fair on you?"
Remus sighed exasperatedly. "You know that's not what I meant."
"It's not what you intended to say," corrected Lena. "But I think it's exactly what you feel."
"Lena, I just–"
He was interrupted by Lena beginning to violently cough. Black liquid spattered her bed sheets, narrowly avoiding the parchment in her hand.
Remus quickly grabbed a handkerchief off her bedside table, sat down on the bed next to her, and held the handkerchief against her mouth.
The coughing fit lasted two minutes. When it had stopped, Remus removed the handkerchief, and Lena flopped back against the pile of pillows, breathing heavily.
There was a cup on the bedside table, but it was empty. Remus pulled out his wand. "Aguamenti," he muttered, and the cup filled with water. Putting his wand down on the table, he picked up the cup. As he placed his hand on the back of Lena's head and tilted it forward, he couldn't help but be reminded of Lena's memory of Voldemort doing the same thing for her after the Cruciatus Curse.
After Lena had taken a sip of water, she murmured, "Thanks."
"How many times a day is it happening now?" asked Remus quietly, putting the cup back on the table.
"Six, yesterday. That was the fourth time today." She smiled weakly. "But the night's still young."
"I'm sorry," said Remus, feeling awful, "I shouldn't have upset you–"
"Don't be an idiot," interrupted Lena, giving him a withering look. "The fits are going to happen regardless of your temperament." She pushed herself up so she was sitting again, and looked down at the parchment. "I just think it's remarkable," she said softly. "What this man, this Muggle, was able to create without magic." She looked up at Remus. "Do you think it holds us back, being wizards and witches?"
"From what?"
"From being great artists," clarified Lena. "Let's face it: the pinnacle of accomplishment in Wizarding literature is The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and even they don't match any of the Muggle greats. And it's not just stories, but music and art too." She cocked her head. "Maybe because of the things we can do with magic, we lack the imagination required to create something truly inspiring – a work of genius."
Remus stared at her. There was such a quiet passion in her eyes as she spoke, something he didn't think he had ever quite seen in them before.
"What?"
Remus blinked, snapped out of his trance. "Sorry?"
"You were looking at me strangely," said Lena, twirling the end of her plait around her fingers.
"Oh," said Remus, smiling nervously, "I was just wondering how long this had been on your mind."
Lena shrugged. "I've only really been thinking about it over the last couple of days. There hasn't exactly been a lot for me to do other than read and think."
Remus' jaw tightened, but he nodded. He tried to think of something helpful to say, but before he could, there was a pop, and Tizzy appeared in the centre of the room, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a small, chocolate cake. He looked at the cake, confused. He hadn't asked Tizzy for it.
"Happy birthday."
He looked at Lena, who was smiling softly.
"How did you know?" he asked, stunned.
Lena nodded at Tizzy. "House-elves are very good at finding these sort of things out." She crossed her legs, and patted the spot in front of her. "You can put it here, Tizzy," she told the elf.
As Tizzy complied, Lena gestured for Remus to sit opposite her. He did so, his mouth almost watering at the smell of the chocolate cake.
"Is there anything else I can get Miss Lena?" inquired Tizzy.
"That's all for now, Tizzy," answered Lena. "Thank you."
The house-elf nodded, and disappeared once again.
"Thirty-four years old, right?" said Lena.
"Yes," replied Remus, still astounded that she'd found out. He looked for a knife on the tray to cut the cake in two, but could only find a spoon. "Looks like Tizzy forgot a knife," he remarked, and stood up. "I'll just grab my wand to cut–"
"Oh, I can't have any," said Lena. "I haven't been able to keep any food down at all for the last three days. The whole cake's for you. I can't imagine you having any trouble getting through all of it."
Remus frowned, sitting back down. "You mean you haven't properly eaten anything for three days?"
"It's not so bad – with everything else that hurts, I can hardly feel the hunger."
"Then why would you give me this to eat in front of you?" asked Remus exasperatedly. "To make me feel like an utter twat?"
Lena's expression became slightly hurt. "I just wanted to celebrate your birthday with you," she said quietly. "There haven't been a lot of opportunities for me to do that in my life, and I wanted to do it one last time."
Now Remus did feel like an utter twat. "I'm sorry," he muttered, not able to meet her eyes.
"Apology accepted," said Lena lightly. "Now, eat the bloody cake."
Remus picked up the spoon and dug it into the cake. As he put it in his mouth, he closed his eyes, trying not to moan at how good it was. After he'd swallowed, he opened his eyes to see that Lena appeared to be struggling not to laugh.
She motioned to her upper-lip. "You've got a bit of..."
Remus hastily wiped his mouth. "Gone?"
Lena's lips twitched. "Not quite. Here, let me..." She reached over and rubbed the space between his upper-lip and nose with her thumb.
"That it?" he asked.
"Not yet," she murmured, then gently wiped the bottom lip with a finger.
A shiver ran down Remus' spine. Lena's eyes were firmly fixed on his lips, and her hand was lingering on his face. Almost imperceptibly, she began to lean forward. And for the second time within a month, the thought, 'She's going to kiss me,' ran through Remus' mind.
But just as he began to lean in as well, the sound of footsteps urgently coming down the hallway interrupted them. A few moments later, the surprise visitor entered Lena's room. It was Dumbledore.
"Headmaster," said Remus, hurriedly standing up. He knew that with Lena no longer a Hogwarts student, there was no rule against him kissing her, but he wasn't quite comfortable with Dumbledore knowing that was what he'd just intended to do.
But Dumbledore didn't acknowledge Remus; his attention was firmly upon Lena.
"I just received word from the IHO," he told her. "Lena, they think they have found a treatment."
Remus' heart skipped a beat. Was Dumbledore saying...
Lena had frozen. "A treatment?" she asked, staring at Dumbledore.
The old wizard nodded. "They believe they have a way to save your life."