Authors Note: It's funny, I'm about to reuse my author's note because it applies here too! - I've been meaning to get this out for a few days now. I just.. really needed to get it out. So I'm getting it out! Yay for doing what I wanted to do! E.e;
All characters are © their respective players. I do not own Harry Potter (though I wouldn't mind . ) nor do I own Albus Dumbledore (Thank God..), Hogwarts, or pretty much anything JK Rowling wrote. I do however own Calista, who in this Continuity was the Head Girl in Harry's 6th year, so if you even so much as –think- of stealing her.. I would be flattered. I will sue the pants off of you.. but I'd be flattered. Becca owns Gabe. Though.. Calista would like to think otherwise.
Sunset
Ch. 5
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Calista sat in that worn, plush chair, for days. There wasn't much to do, or say, really. Christmas came and went, and there would be no assignments until the end of the month. Jeremy had returned to Hogwarts, Terry and Chris had gone away to visit family, and that left..
"I made some tea. Do you want some?"
"No.. not really."
Brennan stalked out of the kitchen, wearing an apron with the words 'Kiss the Cook' stitched on the front. He rested his hands on his hips and tapped his foot impatiently, glaring down at her. He reminded her of her mother. As amusing as that thought was, she didn't smile.
"Listen, you. I just baked a batch of cookies for tea time, and damn if you're not going to eat some with tea. So don't tell me you don't want tea, because all you've been doing is moping around lately and.. well.. not drinking tea! And it's just not right Cap'n, it's just not-"
His words were cut short as a knock came on the door. Both of them turned to look at it, before Brennan moved to open the door. A man carrying a small bag slung over his shoulders handed him a plain white envelope with no return label, or address for that matter. Brennan took it, and lifted a finger up, his lips parting to question the man, but without a word, he had apparated away. Brennan looked back at the letter warily, before closing the door.
"Th' hell is this.. Who's going to hand deliver mail nowadays..?"
The same thought had obviously been running through Calista's mind, as Brennan turned to walk back and bumped straight into her. She didn't flinch, but instead snatched the envelope from his grasp, and returned to her seat. Brennan seemed only mildly insulted, and flopped down on the couch as the woman read the note within. Her eyes widened slightly, before she flickered her gaze up to Brennan and crumpled the paper up in her hand. She stood, ignored Brennan's expectant gaze, and headed into her bedroom. The sound of Brennan's delayed dissent was drowned out by the door slamming.
Once in her room, Calista had rested heavily on the door, her heartbeat thudding against her chest so hard she could feel the pain of each forceful impact. She closed her eyes if only to try and still her senses and regain some clarity in her thoughts, but every nerve in her body felt like it would come alive and aflame if brushed by the lightest touch.
It was here. It was all here in this note, this cherished little note sent by an anonymous benefactor who felt Calista worthy to know the truth. Dumbledore's secret.
How could I have been so stupid!, she thought to herself, balling her fists up so tightly that the note within tore under the pressure of her fingertips. How could I have missed something so obvious?! She laughed out loud, a bitter laugh that choked back a sob. That bastard was playing us for fools.. all along. He knew it was simple.. so simple, in fact, that no one would have guessed. So simple that it slipped right past us all. But now..
A second laugh filtered through closed lips. This one was darker, however.. no longer bitter, but smoky and downright evil. Her voice crackled like the sound of a dying fire, letting its last sparks of life out before it dies away and leaves its owner to die in the cold.
Dumbledore was right to keep his secret from us.
She lifted the note to her sight and unfolded it, flattening the massive wrinkles out with her palm, and piecing together the tears each of her fingertips had made. Reading it one last time and casting it's information to memory, she held it up just slightly farther from her face, and her lips parted one last time.
"Incendio."
The small paper burst into flames, an open fire that she simply let burn on the gentle caress of her skin, though it seemed to only barely singe it within the few seconds it took the fire to completely overtake it's fuel. When nothing was left but ashes, she rose her other hand, and blew the anonymous writer a kiss, one that blew the ashes of the paper out into the air of her bedroom.
This time, no one would stop her.
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As Brennan heard the door creak open, he sighed in relief.
"Finally, the tea was getting cold. I was worried you'd be in there.. all.."
His words slowed to a stop as he turned around, a cup of tea in his hands, blowing it gently to cool it despite what he'd said. He was lying through his teeth – he had kept it warm for as long as she'd needed, but now it seemed a waste. The woman stood before him fully dressed and packed, with all the necessities he knew well enough for an excavation trip. An excavation trip without him.
"I'll be back before summer break. If you wish to stay and take care of the house, you may. You don't have to. I shouldn't be gone too long."
He simply stared at her as she rattled on in a voice far too distant and businesslike, even for her. One thing he could never understand was how a woman so stern and capable was such a bad liar at times. She picked up the tightly wrapped bag and swung it around over her back, clipped the belt around her waist, and walked up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, her eyes looked into his in earnest, and their frankness, their sheer hopefulness, stunned him to silence. All other thoughts were lost by that one, beautiful look.
And then she smiled.
Brennan was sure she was saying something further, but he couldn't hear it. The blood rushing through his veins would drown out the dull roar of a steam engine, had there been one there at the time. Within moments, that smile was gone, and so was she. Only a minute after the door had slammed shut had he realized that he was left alone in this proud, empty castle, haunted by memories and former residents. He shuddered visibly, and took a deep breath – suddenly realizing he had forgotten to breathe until now.
But oh, that smile.
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She had taken the first train headed back toward England, where she would begin her journey. The note had told her only where she was to be, and when. Whoever had written her this note had depending on just how desperate she was to find her answer.
They were right.
She found herself in front of a very large library, where a book was waiting for her on reserve. She took it and left, fully intending on returning it to the library.
Someday.
For now, she walked out of the building and rounded it, finding herself in the deserted back alley that housed most of the garbage excreted daily through a trash shoot. There she found what she was looking for – a bright yellow child's rain boot. It was a portkey, leading to a destination she was unaware of. It was probably a trap. It was probably the stupidest, most rash and obviously dangerous mistakes she would ever allow herself to make. But her life was a small price to pay.
She picked up the boot and was pulled away from England with a sickening pop.
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End Note: Short, but important. There'll be more coming soon. And I actually foresee and end to the fanfic! Hooray!
Cami would like the world to know that she wins by default.