A/N: Apologies, all, for taking SO DAMN LONG to finish this story. I know. I know. But here it comes. I promise. It'll only be a few more chapters left, consisting of a bit of an epilogue, first jumping two years ahead, and then twenty years ahead. Then maybe a sequel, but perhaps I'm being too ambitious, given my track record...(we'll see...) As always, thank you so much for reading! You all have been so positive and encouraging in your reviews, which has been truly heartwarming. I am sincerely grateful for your thoughtful comments on this weird little story. Cheers ;)
XXXVII
Another Summer Sun
[London | May 1995]
It's utter mayhem at the Ministry of Magic. As the days wear on, the gossip in the lifts grows more and more colorful, and with so many rumors flying around (figuratively and literally), nobody's really sure what to believe. Kathleen Hannigan, Assistant Director of Magical Law Enforcement, hasn't seen the light of day in over a week, and that's a conservative estimate.
"I heard that you knew her." Cornelius Fudge says to her in the lift on the way down to the 9th floor.
"Who told you that?" Hannigan frowns.
"Barnaby did. He said back at Hogwarts…"
"Yes, we all knew questionable people while at Hogwarts. I'm sure you did as well." Hannigan says bitterly.
"Yes yes, very true, very true. It's just, hard to keep these rumors straight, you know. What's fact, and what's fiction. I swear, the whole country's got itself worked up into a frenzy. It's like we're all going mad together…" Fudge muses.
"So who's on trial?" Hannigan asks, unwilling to contribute more to the subject.
"What? Oh, some woman named Pembroke. Evidence turned up connecting her with the formation of the Death Eaters. Should be a quick trial, over before lunch I expect. Speaking of lunch…" But Hannigan could not think of lunch, or dinner, or any other future meal, because she just emptied the entire contents of her stomach onto the floor of the lift. Clutching her chest, she leans back against the wall, heaving. "Merlin's beard! Mrs. Hannigan, are you alright?"
"It's the…stress. It must be. I haven't been sleeping…" She says feebly. "I'm sorry, I think I need to lie down…"
"Yes yes of course. Take the rest of the day off. Go home and try to get some rest. We really do appreciate all your hard work." Fudge says as the lift opens onto the 8th floor. He steps gingerly around the vomit and hastens down the corridor towards the stairs descending to the 9th floor.
"And then I was floating, like in water, but I could breathe, and it was so dark, but I could still see myself…" Sirius says between bites of pot roast.
"That's it?" Fred says, disappointed. "No fire? No torture chambers?"
"No monstrous beasts ready to tear you limb from limb?" George adds, equally disappointed.
"No, none of that. Just…emptiness." Sirius says, shuddering. "It was actually pretty terrifying. Until she showed up."
"Please, Sirius, you know you're not supposed to…" Molly Weasley says as she passes behind him, setting another plate of rolls on the table. Within five seconds they're gone, and everyone's mouths are full of fluffy warm bread.
"But…what I don't understand is…what did she do?" Remus says, peering at his best friend, trying to discern any slight difference, any hint of dark magic about him.
"Remus, please." Molly whines, clanging a pan down on the stove.
"Nothing. She didn't do anything, Remus. She just took me out of there." Sirius says. "Listen, I know Dumbledore's been making you all paranoid, but I'm the same person. Believe me. You know me, Remus. Do I seem any different to you?"
"The only difference is that you used to hate her and now you only have nice things to say." Remus says.
"Well, wouldn't you have a change of heart if someone saved your life?" Sirius says. "Apparently she's saved mine twice. So, it's about time I came around. She's still terrifying though. Scares the shit out of me."
"Sirius, watch your language!" Molly orders.
"We're all adults here, Molly." Sirius growls, rolling his eyes.
"I wish you didn't have to go." Hermione says, embracing Harry.
"Yeah, me too." Harry says solemnly. "But Dumbledore says it's best. That I'll be safest with the Dursleys."
"You ever think he's off his rocker?" Ron asks, sitting on Harry's bed, kicking his legs back and forth.
"Ron!" Hermione scowls.
"Oh come on, Hermione. You saw him when she brought Sirius back. He went ballistic!" Ron stills his restless legs, and starts bouncing on the mattress.
"Yeah, and isn't it obvious why?" Hermione says. "Will you please sit still for once? You're such a child!" Ron and Harry exchange looks.
"Please don't go, Harry! How am I going to put up with this for an entire summer?" Ron begs. Harry laughs.
"Sirius doesn't seem strange to me." Harry shrugs. "Even Remus doesn't think he's different, although he's been so on edge about it…nervous there's something he's just not seeing…"
"We all need to be careful." Hermione says, looking from Harry to Ron, then back to Harry, folding her arms. "At least we can trust each other."
"Yeah." Harry says with a heavy sigh. "Don't forget to write, ok?"
"Of course." Hermione says.
"I'll keep you updated on the Chudley Cannons." Ron says.
"You know I don't care about the Cannons, Ron." Harry says.
"Yeah but you should." Ron says, smiling. "Here, I'll help you with that." He gets up and takes Hedwig's cage, carrying it down the stairs, Harry dragging his trunk behind. Dumbledore's waiting at the foot of the stairs.
In the gloomy kitchen of her basement apartment, Victoria Spektor is hunched over a bubbling cauldron, an array of odds and ends scattered across the table, an open book by her side, a quill resting in the spine, dripping little pools of ink on the table. A crash sounds behind her, and she cringes.
"Dark? What the hell? It's not that difficult to not break things." She yells, continuing to stir counter clockwise.
"My apologies, madame, but…if there wasn't so much broken glass on the floor…" A voice responds, bitterly.
"Sweep it up! That's what I'm paying you for!" She yells back. "You know, you should be thankful I gave you this job. If it wasn't for me…"
"Yes, I know. No need to remind me." Dark grumbles, entering the kitchen with a bleeding hand, and proceeding to run it under the tap. "Your husband doesn't come around much, does he?" He observes, wondering why he hasn't met the man yet.
"He's very busy." V says. "Bring that over here." She sets down the spoon, turns the flame low, and lets the cauldron simmer. Dark approaches with his bleeding hand, and she runs her finger gently over the laceration. His yellow eyes widen as the wound seals itself up.
"Amazing." He marvels, smiling warmly at her.
"Yes, I know." She says, turning her attention back to the potion. "Get back to work, and try not to disturb me. This is very delicate work I'm doing here."
"Yes, madame." He says, and returns to the living room, from which she soon hears the tinkling of broken glass being swept up.
