She only asks to lay her burden down,
That her glad arms that burden may resume;
And nature's sharpest pangs her wishes crown,
That free thee living from thy living tomb.
She longs to fold to her maternal breast
Part of herself, yet to herself unknown;
To see and to salute the stranger guest,
Fed with her life through many a tedious moon.
Come, reap thy rich inheritance of love!
Bask in the fondness of a Mother's eye!
Nor wit nor eloquence her heart shall move
Like the first accents of thy feeble cry.
-Anna Laetitia Barbauld, "To a Little Invisible Being Who is Expected Soon to Become Visible"
Complete silence reigned in the small chapel for a while. Draco and Sylvia sat on separate pews, thinking their separate thoughts.
Finally Sylvia said, "I wanted so badly during that ritual to turn around and see my mother. I didn't remember her face, though Ruth and Rahab had told me she was most beautiful. And then, to see them again…I remember their faces at death—old, lined with years. It had been so long since I had seen them young. Every time I look into that Pensieve, I can't help but look at my mother, and the other two, and want to ask them what it was like, to love someone truly and die."
"He died," Draco said coldly, as if he hadn't heard what she had said. "He died and you want me to do it too. I won't! I won't do it, Sylvia! "
"Draco, it was an aberration…simply because Swithulf died doesn't necessarily mean you will too."
"Well, thank you for that 'necessarily'. It comforts me tremendously," Draco said sarcastically, and stood up.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Away from you, Mother," he replied, saying the word mockingly. "I think you have a bad track record with your sons."
"Just…please…" she started to call, but he was already gone.
***
"So, you told Draco," Dumbledore stated with a finality that brooked no dissent. She had gone straight from Swithulf's chapel to the headmaster's office.
"Personally, I would have waited a bit longer to tell him that we want him to perform the ritual that killed my firstborn," she said, anger coursing through each word. "Especially as Rosamund is not here, and there's no way we can perform the ritual any time soon if she doesn't show up. But you and Remus left me no choice."
"Sylvia, it was time that the boy knew," Dumbledore replied. "Remus and I both agreed on that."
"And I believed that it was too early. Albus, you don't understand. Draco just found out that the people he believed to be his parents were not, and that is a big enough blow for a teenage boy to recover from. He didn't need to add this to his list."
"From what I know of him, Mr. Malfoy is quite resilient," Dumbledore said. "Don't coddle him, Sylvia."
Her eyes flashed. She was more than a little angry. "And how would you feel, Albus?"
"About what?" he asked mildly, ignoring her anger in a way she found maddening. Sometimes the Headmaster of Hogwarts could be annoying in his apparent perfection.
"If you learned that the people you believed were your parents were not," she answered.
"That's beside the point, Sylvia—"
"Is it, Albus?" she asked pointedly. "How do you know that your parents were your own? Fauna was a nice girl, and I am sure your father loved her in his way, but—"
"Sylvia, I demand to know what you imply," Dumbledore interrupted. She noted with pleasure that she had unnerved him, but she felt a twinge of regret.
"Now's not the time to tell you," she mumbled. "I must be going, Albus…"
"Sylvia! For Merlin's sake—just tell me you are not my mother!" The desperation in his voice was evident. It would be a little too Oedipal for him to have lusted after his mother.
She sighed. "You just thought you were well preserved, didn't you, Albus? And the way that you can sense the power of The Three…you think that came from something you read, something you learned?"
"SYLVIA!" He had raised his voice. She had never known Albus Dumbledore to raise his voice.
"No, I am not your mother," she said quietly. "Sophie is."
"Your joke is not funny, Dr.
Oliver," the old man said, his voice shaking.
"Albus, I wouldn't lie. She
didn't have the heart to tell you. Your father married Fauna after you were born, and they adopted you. We make
terrible mothers, you know? It must be very disconcerting to reach an age where
we look younger than you."
"Sylvia, please…it's not true," he answered.
"I delivered her of you," she replied. "I think I would know."
"I can't believe something like this. It's all too convenient for you."
"Very well," she said, and lifted her right hand, palm out, murmuring a few words. Dumbledore knew that she was summoning Sophie, in the language that The Three shared. She had tried it often enough in the past few months for Rosamund's sake, with no result.
"Why wouldn't she have told me?" he asked, and despite his age, he looked young and vulnerable.
"She knew how much you loved Fauna as a mother. She didn't want to break your heart. She's toyed with telling you these past few years, but after so long…Zeus, Albus, why do you think she spent so much time with you in your youth? She was always around, wasn't she?"
"No more than you were," he said quickly.
"We had to leave America because of the war," Sylvia replied. "And besides that, I felt a strong power in you. It made me curious. Sophie was also afraid to go alone. Fauna loathed her, you know."
"I didn't know," he murmured, lost in his thoughts. He was then interrupted by the pretty blond teenager that stood at the door.
"Sylvia, what did you want?" Sophie asked.
Sylvia looked down at the ground, apparently feeling guilty. "Sophie…I…I told him. I didn't mean to. It just slipped out."
"Told him what?" Sophie asked suspiciously.
"Erm…" Sylvia didn't finish the thought.
"Oh, Sylvia," Sophie replied, disappointment in her eyes.
"I'm sorry!" Sylvia cried, looking only partly remorseful. "I just couldn't stand keeping it from him anymore."
"We've kept it for a hundred and fifty years," Sophie answered, with a touch of anger.
"Sophia," Dumbledore said with formality. "Mother?"
"Look at the time!" Sylvia said hastily. "I told Severus I would meet him to go over Greek!" She slipped out quickly and literally ran down the hall, anxious to be away from the less than happy reunion.
***
Snape was waiting for her in his office, tapping his foot a little impatiently. "What took you so long?"
"Nice to see you too," she said cheerfully. "Severus, you won't believe the awful thing I just did."
"Try me." After she explained the snafu she had created, he laughed uproariously. "Sylvia, I had no idea that knowing about The Three was going to explain so many things."
"We're rad like that," she remarked dryly.
"How is Draco?" he asked, after his laughter had died down.
"Not good," she admitted. "He's mad at me, and scared, and so unsure. I knew it wasn't the right time to tell him, but I didn't want anyone other than me to do it. I could kill Remus…"
"Don't let me stop you," he remarked.
She giggled. "What have you been up to for the past few hours?"
"Grading Potions essays!" he said in a tone of mock-jubilation. "Miss Granger's is twice the required length, and not something that I cared to read. The best of the bunch is certainly Padma Patil's. Here, let me show you how she explained the infusion of acanthus and—"
"Oh!" Sylvia exclaimed, extending her right hand in a familiar gesture.
"What is it?" Severus asked anxiously.
"It's Sophie…she's trying to tell me something," she explained. After another moment, she stood up abruptly. "We have to go, Severus, come."
"What's happened?" he questioned.
"It's Rosamund. She's back."
@@@
What the #@%@#!? Rosamund's back? Where has she been this whole time? What has she been doing? Read our next chapter, and discover the answers you seek.