Chapter 34: En Memoriam
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story concerns Meli; therefore, what happened further in the dungeons is not covered here. If you are dying of curiosity, the only comfort I have to offer you is this: It will be discussed in some detail in Part II of my story, and Snarky Sneak will someday post her story, which contains a full description of the battle from Zarekael's point of view. Suffice it to say for now that it ended suddenly and spectacularly, and with lots of green fire—as every really cool battle (and Jack o' Lantern) should do.
After the battle's sudden, spectacular conclusion, the Aurors first secured Harry, then spread throughout the dungeons in search of stragglers and other Death Eaters that might have lingered. That was how the bodies of the last three Skulkers were found.
By luck or by a dark Divine design, Andrea Underhill and Kevin Lane were members of the party that stumbled over the remains of the skirmish. It was Andrea who first saw them, and what initially caught her eye was the face of her friend. Meli had fallen forward over one of the other two bodies, then she had been rolled over in such a way that her head was propped up on the second body. Her eyes were closed—not in pain, Andrea thought, but in savoring of triumph. More than that, her lips were forever parted in one of the maddest grins Andrea had encountered outside the realms of Lewis Carroll.
The Aurors had thoroughly investigated the scene, reconstructing events and forcing the two intact wands to show their previous spells. As they reassembled the scenario, Andrea could actually see Meli walking through those very actions.
One of the British Aurors, a whip of a woman who answered to the name Scatcherd, haughtily took command of the group and detailed aloud what had taken place, her tone and mannerisms making it clear that all present—the Americans and the dead, especially—should be awed at her superior intellect. Andrea, whose patience was already worn down to nothing, interjected as she pleased, determined to deny the other woman her airs.
"Somehow," Scatcherd lectured, "one of the Death Eaters found a way in behind our line—"
"His name was Dirk Pierce," Andrea informed her coldly. "And given that he was a prankster in his time as a student here, he probably used a little-known passageway that the defenders didn't seal."
Scatcherd glared at her, then resumed as if nothing had been said. "Ebony must have followed him with the intent of stopping him. Another, unidentified wizard—"
"Whom I believe you'll eventually identify as Collum Fell," Andrea broke in. It had been a nasty shock, uncovering that face and seeing him lying there dead, when by rights he should have been alive and well and enjoying an exile in Jamaica or some equally inclement place.
"—was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Pierce killed him with the Venarupturum. The other wizard hadn't made any successful strike against him, though he attempted a stupefication, as we know from his wand."
"Pierce's wand is entirely useless, seeing as how it's broken," Andrea interrupted, more for the sake of being contrary than because there was something to contradict. "Please enlighten us: how do you know the Venarupturum came from Pierce and not from someone else present?"
Scatcherd ignored her. "Then Ebony appeared on the scene and managed to break both Pierce's arm and his wand. Or perhaps this other wizard broke his arm . . ."
"Knowing Meli Ebony's temper and efficiency, I doubt it," Andrea remarked darkly.
"And we know that Pierce used the Venarupturum because Ebony's wand was last used to cast a Tu Quoque spell at him. It's not a particularly powerful spell, generally not powerful enough to duplicate a deadly curse, but"—Scatcherd tossed a superior smile at Andrea—"knowing Ebony's temper and efficiency, she was probably able to summon up the strength of will to make up the difference."
"Oh, and aren't you just the smartest little bag of hot air that ever walked the face of the earth?" Andrea muttered, not loud enough for anyone but Kevin to hear. He smiled, but seemed puzzled.
"I've never come across a Tu Quoque," he said under his breath. "Is this a British spell I don't know about?"
Andrea shook her head. "It's a duelist's gutter-tactic spell, Kevin—no reason civilized people should know about it," she replied. "Meli stumbled over it somewhere and told me about it. It's a last-ditch defensive hex. Say you're in a duel, and someone hits you with Jelly-Legs." She smirked half-heartedly. "To buy yourself time to recover, you hit your opponent with Tu Quoque. They might have defenses up against a hex coming from you . . . but Tu Quoque basically turns their spell back on them. Or more precisely, it duplicates their previous spell. You can't fully transfer something cast on someone else with a Tu Quoque, but you can make them wish they'd picked a more benevolent hex."
"And where would she have picked up something like that?"
Andrea shrugged. "She probably read an offhand reference to it somewhere, then looked it up and kept it in reserve for a rainy day."
"Well, it didn't save her life," Scatcherd sniffed at her elbow.
Only the truth of the statement kept Andrea from hexing the British Auror.
Scatcherd picked up her lecture where she'd left off a moment earlier. "Of course this unknown wizard—"
"Collum Fell," Andrea corrected.
"—would have been dead. Pierce, if not dead, was dying, and in any case, he couldn't have killed Ebony because his wand was broken and out of reach. We know Ebony didn't turn her wand on herself. Thus, there must have been a fourth party who survived the encounter and left without a trace—"
"Other than the bodies he left behind, of course," Kevin put in.
"That party," Scatcherd said through her teeth, glaring at this new interloper, "must have come in at the end and seen the finish of the face-off between Ebony and Pierce. He or she obviously did not see Ebony's face at the time; that explains why she was rolled over post mortem."
It also explains why she was killed in the first place, Andrea added silently.
"It is a foregone conclusion that the party in question was a Death Eater," Scatcherd finished. "Any speculation as to who it might have been?"
"Maybe the madman who charged us from behind just before Dumbledore's light show?" Kevin suggested sarcastically. "He likely came from this direction. Unless you, in your infinite wisdom, find something better, my money's on him."
Judging by the look on Scatcherd's face, she didn't appreciate such a stunning conclusion coming from an interfering Yank. Andrea smiled sweetly. "But that's exactly what you were going to say anyway, wasn't it, Scatcherd?" she added. "Ravenclaw might be in Britain, but there are Americans who could be Sorted into it, too."
The other Auror glared at her. "For your information," she snapped, "I was nearly Sorted into Gryffindor!"
"Oh." Andrea shrugged. "It shows." She let her tone frost over a bit. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with the task at hand."
"You're a cold one, you are," Scatcherd sneered. "Or didn't you notice that there are two good people dead here?"
She found herself suddenly pinned against the wall, Andrea's hands clenched around the lapels of her designer robe; the American was a great deal stronger, and angrier, than she looked.
"I've had about enough of you!" she shouted, the words echoing three and four times down the stone corridor. "Yes, I realize what happened here, you miserable Limey toad! Meli Ebony was one of my best friends, bitch, and I have been patient with you, putting up with your bullshit and horse puckey beyond the limits of my patience, for her sake. If there's anyone who doesn't understand what happened here, it's you, you pig! She gave her life in defense of what's right, and as an unfortunate side effect, she may have saved yours in the process. So if you can't appreciate that, do everyone here a favor and shut the fuck up!"
Kevin had to pry her hands loose and pull her physically away from Scatcherd. The two other Aurors in their group stood silently to the side, wisely choosing not to get involved.
Andrea, for her part, was entirely beside herself. Her analytic cool was gone, replaced with anger at the British in general and Scatcherd in particular, at Dark wizards in general and Voldemort in particular, and at friends who failed in general and herself in particular. She didn't know which she wanted to do more: fall to the floor sobbing, or kill someone very violently—preferably Scatcherd.
She was dimly aware that Kevin was hauling her away and out of the dungeons, but she had no notion of their destination until a harried-looking mediwitch showed her to a bed. She was unsure of the source of chaos she heard, if it was actual pandemonium in the wake of a costly battle, or if it was all in her head, a rushing in her ears. They gave her something to drink, and then she knew nothing except the thick, black realm of dreamless sleep.
No one felt much like celebrating the morning after the battle. The castle still stood, but sections of it were in ruins that even magic would be hard-pressed to repair. The defense measures set up by the teachers had worked as intended, and losses had been minimal . . . but Ebony's death was a hard loss for students and teachers alike. Many had feared her, but nearly all had at least respected her—and that she had died heroically at least partially redeemed her in their eyes.
Even before Dumbledore addressed the student body at breakfast, the story had spread throughout the school of how the Aurors had found Ebony dead and grinning like the Cheshire cat. Only a few confident Slytherins were visibly and vocally unaffected by the news; the Gryffindors, who acknowledged her as one of their own, had practically canonized her overnight. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws went the more moderate road of declaring her a hero. It was questionable that Meli Ebony would have appreciated any of these reactions; she had done her duty, nothing more. In fact, in killing Pierce, she may well have felt that she had gone too far. And as for the students' opinions, she would simply have snorted and observed that death more often than not is the greatest catalyst for improving the reputation of a disliked person.
Dumbledore stood, and immediately silence blanketed the Great Hall. No one moved even to set down a fork or a cup.
"Good morning," the headmaster said gravely. "By now you are all aware of the events of yesterday and their outcome. With the indispensable help of a number of the Aurors, we repelled an attack by the Death Eaters. They did not achieve their objective, and although we have suffered losses, theirs are more devastating by far." He paused, looking at each of the House tables before continuing. "You are also aware that our losses include Professor Ebony."
He paused again as murmurs and stirring rustled through the hall.
"Professor Ebony was a credit to both her family and to Gryffindor House," Dumbledore said. "She was loyal and courageous, and even in troubled times, she never chose the easy path over the right. She has spent her entire life opposing Lord Voldemort, and in her death, she harmed him more than even he perhaps suspects."
At this juncture, he was interrupted by an eruption of applause and cheers from the Gryffindor table. A few Gryffindors, Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys among them, held their silence; even Fred and George were uncharacteristically sober.
When the noise tapered off, Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Yes, there was some victory in Professor Ebony's death," he allowed. "But I believe, were she here, she would admonish you not to cheer. If you seek to honor her memory, pursue justice, not vengeance. Had she lived, she would have done the same."
With that last word, Dumbledore resumed his seat.
Fred turned to George. "So which do you think it is?" he asked in a low voice. "Justice, or vengeance?"
George looked thoughtful, then managed a smile. "He never did anything to us that we'd be getting even for," he replied. "I don't know if it's justice in the classical sense, but it definitely won't be revenge."
"What are you two going on about?" Ron asked glumly.
"Philosophy," George answered airily. He filled his glass with pumpkin juice, then raised it. "To Ebony and the Skulkers."
"Ebony and the Skulkers," Fred echoed, also raising his glass.
Andrea appeared at the Camerons' front gate, then slowly opened it and passed through. The house and yard looked as they always had, but somehow it seemed that the siding had faded to gray and the lawn to a dismal olive drab. Butch, Daniel's ordinarily hyperactive puppy, was oddly reserved; he barked once at Andrea's approach, then walked lethargically over to a tree, circled three times, and dropped, asleep before he hit the ground. In short, everything seemed to have picked up on the Auror's mood.
Scott's smile when he answered the door was a badly needed ray of sunshine, and Andrea was sorry to see it go as soon as he perceived that something was amiss. He let her in and showed her to the living room, where Daniel played Nintendo 64 with a friend and Scotty was engaged in a rousing game of wizard's chess with his grandmother. Andrea smiled in spite of herself at the strange juxtaposition of magical and Muggle in the same room.
"Has something happened?" Scott asked, drawing all eyes in the room to himself and the Auror.
Andrea glanced at Daniel's friend, recognized him as her second cousin once removed, and only then nodded. "I have some news that I'd like to repeat only once," she told him, and she could not even recognize her own voice beneath the trembling.
The neighbor boy stood. "I'll be across the street if you need me," he said in a low voice, then made a discreet exit.
Daniel had left silently, and now he returned, his mother and grandfather with him. Less than five minutes later, the Fells arrived, summoned either by Daniel's friend or by a phone call from one of the Camerons. Andrea smiled gratefully, but it was difficult to maintain it beyond a few seconds.
Everyone still standing instinctively and mechanically sat, except for Andrea. If she sat down, she feared she might not have the strength to get up again.
"I can't stay long," she said haltingly. "I'm needed elsewhere right away, but I begged for a few hours to come here." She swallowed. "I've just come from Hogwarts." They all tensed, even before she'd gotten anywhere near the point. For an Auror—especially an American Auror—to have been at Hogwarts, something big must have happened.
She took a deep breath. "There was a major raid at the school," she continued, with difficulty. "They had enough advance warning to call in help and to lay out some plans—that's how I ended up there."
"How's Aunt Meli?" Scotty burst out, worry and impatience chasing each other across his face. "Is she hurt?"
Andrea clenched her teeth until she could be sure no sound of tears would escape. At last she was able to continue. "Meli was doing reconnaissance. No one knows exactly what happened, but somehow a Death Eater slipped in behind the defensive lines. Meli followed and stopped him . . . she had to kill him to do it, and he'd already killed someone else." She broke off before her voice could shake itself apart, then met the eyes of Myrddin and Alexandra.
When dealing with such perceptive people, there could have been no greater giveaway than that look. Myrddin set his jaw, and Alexandra went pale, then whispered through an evident lump in her throat, "Was it . . . Collum?"
Andrea swallowed hard and nodded once. "I'm so sorry," she told them haltingly. "I wish—" She broke off, unable to fit everything she thought and felt into such inadequate containers as words. If she had found Pierce before this, she could have saved Collum, but instead she had failed them, leaving them with only Donald the Hufflepuff, who would not acknowledge them anyway. If she had found Pierce in time, Meli wouldn't have had to follow him down to the dungeons; she wouldn't have been followed herself, and she, too, would still be alive—
That thought recalled her; she hadn't yet told them everything.
"Another Death Eater had followed her down," she continued, her voice choked and her words halting. "It was very quick—she didn't feel any pain." She couldn't bring herself to tell them that Collum had, or that Meli had died smiling.
The news hit them like a bomb blast. They all fell back under its shock wave, the same stunned look repeated on all eight faces. Meli the Indestructible, Meli the Protector—Meli, who was under Voldemort's personal protection.
Meli, who was just too smart to get edged into a trap and killed, had done precisely that.
"She's . . . dead?" Scott whispered.
Andrea nodded, her own face contorting with grief. "She and Collum both died heroes," she said. "And Meli's killer died shortly afterward when he charged a group of Aurors." She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "She left a letter with Dumbledore, to be read in the event of her death. In it, she asked that a couple of things be taken from her apartment and brought to you."
She opened the bag that she carried with her, then closed the distance between herself and the Camerons. To Mrs. Cameron she handed a ring—Andrew's ring, immediately recognized by everyone present. The older woman accepted it with a shaking hand. To Mr. Cameron Andrea gave a terra cotta pot with seven forget-me-nots growing in it and a sealed envelope. The letter Meli had left with Dumbledore went to Scott.
"Professor Dumbledore thought you should read this for yourselves," she said.
To the Fells went a small green journal, in which Meli had carefully copied down every single butchered song re-write the Skulkers had ever perpetrated and performed. Alexandra accepted the volume with tear-brushed eyes; Myrddin mustered a smile for her, though it quickly faded.
Andrea forced another smile, then saw herself out, leaving them to grieve as a family.
Daniel's friend sat on a porch across the street. When he saw her leaving, he dashed across to stand almost toe-to-toe with her.
"Has another hero been made?" he asked, with a solemnity that belied his age.
"Heroes are made every day, Eddie," she answered. "Last night, though, a martyr was made. Two martyrs," she added, reminding herself that Collum, too, was a martyr, though he was less known.
He looked her in the eye, his own gaze possessing a shrewdness that marked him early as a candidate for Auror training should he show any wizarding talent at all. "Give 'em hell, Andrea."
Cold steel returned to her gaze and she knew that her smile was as deadly as a hunting predator's. "I fully intend to," she replied, then stepped to the side and disapparated, intent on doing precisely that.
Epilogue
As a tribute to Professor Ebony's memory, Fred and George Weasley, on the eve of their graduation, executed their best-planned and most sensational prank of all time. They captured Draco Malfoy, stripped him down to his smiley-face boxers, and tied him to one of the columns near the Great Hall, covering his mouth with duct tape to keep him from summoning Filch. To this they added the final touch of a sign, which read: "MALFOY IS AN UGLY GIT. LONG LIVE THE SKULKERS!"
The following morning, the rumor started that the ghosts of the Skulkers now haunted Hogwarts. Fred and George were too elated at being mistaken for the legendary pranksters to take offense at not receiving due credit for the stunt.
Unbeknownst to the twins, their nocturnal activities had been observed by Professor Severus Snape and by another person not yet important to this tale. The Potions master, perhaps giving into an uncharacteristic nostalgia, did not interfere, and instead silently added fifty points to Gryffindor's score. Since this action led to a tie for the House Cup between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses, it was also attributed to the Skulkers' ghosts, a misconception which Snape made no effort to refute—and neither did that other, not-yet-important person, who knew better than anyone the facts of the matter.
The story continues in "A Dream Within a Dream" . . .