Year Seven: The Will

"That's all, then, is it?" asked Hermione, making to raise herself off the sofa.

"Not quite," said Scrimgeour. "Miss Potter, Dumbledore left you his wand."

Alex looked dumbfounded. "Is he bloody mental?"

Scrimgeour looked grim. "His will states him to be of sound mind. Nonetheless, here you go." He handed the wand towards her.

Alex took the wand with an almost revered air, staring at it with complete shock. "He actually did it," she whispered. "Albus came through…" She grasped it firmly, and flicked it once. Its tip began to glow softly. Lines of white ran down towards the handle, across her hand. She closed her eyes. The white ran across her every bone, highlighting them with a soft blue glow. Within moments, she seemed to take on the appearance of a skeleton, hints of wings in the air all around… Countless and multiple, with an almost crystalline air altogether…

And just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Harry blinked. "What. Was that."

"What was what?"

Harry sighed. "You know what I- wait." He eyed the asker. "Hermione? Didn't you see-" He trailed off. A suspicious feeling took hold.

"See what?"

"Sorry," he said, eyeing his 'sister' accusingly. "I must have imagined it."

Alex had the grace to look slightly sheepish. Scrimgeour rose. "Well, now that that's over with, I really need to leave."

The girl ran a hand through her hair, smiling in a very Luna-like manner. "What about the Sword of Gryffindor?"

The Minister looked startled. "What? How did you- Never mind. The Sword is an ancient relic, and as such, not Dumbledore's to give."

As Hermione objected, Harry cast another suspicious glance at his sister. What the hell was she up to?