Author's Notes: This is it, the last chapter. Which ending did I go with?
Heh, read and see. I deliberately wrote the war as anticlimactic because
it really isn't the climax of this story. So, there was a reason for such
a short historical type description of the battle.
Disclaimers: Nothing from the book belongs to me. Oh cruel fate!
Chapter 30: Victory Dance.
The battle over, Voldemort defeated, a solemn hush came over the battlefield. The earth was scorched in several places; bodies of Death Eaters and alliance fighters alike littered the ground. The dead were brought together for burial, the wounded carried into the makeshift infirmary in the great hall. The survivors clustered together, still in shock from the violence and adrenaline rush of battle.
That evening, word spread quickly through the wizarding world regarding Voldemort's defeat. The celebrating began at sundown and lasted throughout the entire night. The sky was alight with colored sparks and flashes. Muggle scientists were at a loss to describe the display and explained it away as some form of exotic heat lightning brought about by the unusually temperate summer weather.
The celebratory mood was not shared by all however. Harry Potter was having a very hard time as the death of Voldemort affected him in a way that was not entirely unexpected. Ever since his encounter with the dark wizard as a baby, Harry had a sort of psychic bond to him that resulted in a traumatic reaction at the moment of Voldemort's death. Harry was stricken with a severe headache and nosebleed. He was treated by a medic and advised to take it easy for a few days, while the symptoms faded.
Dumbledore gave a brief speech and retired early, the stress of the battle wore heavily on both his body and mind. There would be much work to do in the coming months. Deciding on proper punishments for the captured Death Eaters, and helping the injured and those widowed or orphaned from the battle move forward with their lives. He would be called upon to lead the wizarding community in picking up the pieces. He needed his rest.
Professor Snape drifted uneasily on the fringes of the celebration, accepting a congratulatory goblet of cider, and a handshake here and there from those who had also been present at the final battle. He felt a sense of nagging unease. He knew in his rational mind that Voldemort was gone, and virtually all of the Death Eaters had been destroyed or captured. Those few remaining at large wouldn't even think of banding together. They would remain in hiding or start a new life for themselves elsewhere, in a place where they were not recognized as having had ties to the Dark Lord. The threat was over, but he found himself unable to relax and join the celebration. He quietly slipped away from the crowd, and went down to his chambers and sat up the rest of the night, rehashing the battle over and over again in his mind.
He finally drifted off to sleep shortly after dawn the next morning and slept through most of the day. Early that evening, he was awakened by a knock at his door. He opened it to find Dumbledore standing with a large black wooden box in his arms, a small velvet pouch sitting on top.
"I do believe it is time that we returned these things to their rightful owner, wouldn't you agree Severus?"
After a moment of confusion, the professor realized that the large box must contain the pensieve and the small pouch the amulet. He grabbed up his robe and hastily buttoned up as he followed the headmaster into the dark forest, just past the apparition barriers.
The two wizards apparated to the location given to Dumbledore by Mira's grandmother, earlier that day. They found themselves in a rose arbor beside a small country cottage near the sea in the Calais region of France. Dumbledore handed the box and pouch to Snape and led the way to the front door of the cottage and knocked. A plump old woman answered the door. "Aaah yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I have been expecting you. Won't you come in, I will fetch Mirabelle." The old woman disappeared into the back part of the house.
"Mirabelle. There is somebody here to see you, chere." Mira looked up from her book with a puzzled look.
"Who could be here to see me? Is it Susan and Tricia?"
"No, chere. It is somebody from the Wizarding School in England."
"The Wizarding School where I went after I got hurt?"
"Yes, chere. They need to talk to you, they have something you left behind at the school."
Wondering what she could have possibly left behind at the school, Mira followed her grandmother to the front of the house, where a very aged wizard with lots of white hair and wearing flashy robes was standing near the door. Behind him stood a much younger man, taller, with long black hair, wearing somber black robes. The younger man held a box and pouch, and something looked vaguely familiar about him.
The older man reached out for her hand. "Mirabelle. How nice to see you again. Do you remember me? My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England."
"Yes. Yes, I remember you now. You're the man who told me how I got to the school, and who arranged for my grandmother to come take me home. "
"Very good Mira, and do you remember my colleague here?"
"Um, I think so. Wait! Yes, I have met him before. I met him when the professors came to the tailor shop to order their robes. They did get their robes didn't they?" She looked at the man standing behind the headmaster, blushed slightly and looked away.
"Yes dear, they got their robes."
"I don't mean to be rude, but grand-mere says that you came to return something that I left at the school. But I don't remember leaving anything at the school. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
"No my dear, I am quite sure that these items belong to you."
Dumbledore turned around and took the pouch from off of the box and handed it to Mira. "This is a necklace that I believe has been passed down to you from generations of your family."
Mira opened the pouch and removed the amulet and a strange look came over her face.
"Headmaster, this is mine, but how did it wind up at the school? It's supposed to be hidden in the United States?"
"Mira dear, the contents of the box my colleague is holding will shed some light on that question and all the rest that you must be asking yourself right now. If you don't mind, there is a simple spell procedure that needs to be performed. Nothing serious mind you, just a routine diagnostic spell to make sure that your head has healed properly and has had no permanent damage."
"Okay, but I feel fine. Honestly."
"It's okay dear, it won't hurt and it'll only take a minute. Why don't you sit down and close your eyes."
Mira looked at her grandmother, who nodded in approval. She sat on a parlor chair in front of a large window that overlooked the rose garden beside the house. Dumbledore stood beside her and Snape set the box down on a small tea table next to the chair. The headmaster then pulled his wand out and performed a simple spell to render Mira in a dream like state for the memory transfer. He turned to the professor.
"Are you sure you can do it by yourself Severus?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure I can manage the transfer on my own."
"Very well then. I shall leave you to it."
Dumbledore turned towards Mira's grandmother and extended his hand. "Eloise, let us retire to your lovely garden and give my colleague room to do the procedure."
The old witch and much older wizard walked out to the garden, arm in arm, admiring the flowers before taking a seat on a garden bench. On the other side of the window, professor Snape had removed the pensieve basin from the black box, and placed it back on the tea table.
He took out his wand, and muttered a short incantation. He then began to swirl the tip of his wand in the liquid silver substance contained in the pensieve, creating a whirlpool. Once the liquid was swirling quickly, random images began to flash across it like motion pictures projected onto a screen. He raised his wand and a ribbon of the substance trailed behind from the bowl. He positioned his wand over Mira's head and swirled it around in the air until all the memories from the pensieve were twirling about above her head.
He recited an incantation and tapped his wand to the top of Mira's head. The memories spiraled down and back into her mind. She gasped from the shock held her hands against her eyes, as if trying to force a headache away. She felt a dizzying sensation and began to see random flashes of memories that weren't her own flashing inside her mind's eye.
The images slowed down and started to come together in sequential order. They played through in a loop, the first time quite fast, the second time much more slowly. She realized that the memories were her own, but were very confusing. Then it all started to come together.
Out in the garden, Eloise DelMare clutched the headmaster's hand and watched apprehensively through the window as the younger wizard performed the spell that would return her granddaughter's memories. Her conversations with the headmaster before taking Mira home the previous winter, and then again earlier that day made her nervous as to how Mira would react once her memories were back in place. Some of them were quite traumatic. But Dumbledore was a great man and she trusted him. And she also trusted his younger colleague, this man who had come to love her granddaughter during their adventures together.
Mira rubbed her eyes and looked up at the man standing before her. After a few seconds a look of recognition washed over her face and she leapt from her chair into his arms, crying. He held her tightly against his chest, eyes closed, with a faint smile working its way across his mouth.
Disclaimers: Nothing from the book belongs to me. Oh cruel fate!
Chapter 30: Victory Dance.
The battle over, Voldemort defeated, a solemn hush came over the battlefield. The earth was scorched in several places; bodies of Death Eaters and alliance fighters alike littered the ground. The dead were brought together for burial, the wounded carried into the makeshift infirmary in the great hall. The survivors clustered together, still in shock from the violence and adrenaline rush of battle.
That evening, word spread quickly through the wizarding world regarding Voldemort's defeat. The celebrating began at sundown and lasted throughout the entire night. The sky was alight with colored sparks and flashes. Muggle scientists were at a loss to describe the display and explained it away as some form of exotic heat lightning brought about by the unusually temperate summer weather.
The celebratory mood was not shared by all however. Harry Potter was having a very hard time as the death of Voldemort affected him in a way that was not entirely unexpected. Ever since his encounter with the dark wizard as a baby, Harry had a sort of psychic bond to him that resulted in a traumatic reaction at the moment of Voldemort's death. Harry was stricken with a severe headache and nosebleed. He was treated by a medic and advised to take it easy for a few days, while the symptoms faded.
Dumbledore gave a brief speech and retired early, the stress of the battle wore heavily on both his body and mind. There would be much work to do in the coming months. Deciding on proper punishments for the captured Death Eaters, and helping the injured and those widowed or orphaned from the battle move forward with their lives. He would be called upon to lead the wizarding community in picking up the pieces. He needed his rest.
Professor Snape drifted uneasily on the fringes of the celebration, accepting a congratulatory goblet of cider, and a handshake here and there from those who had also been present at the final battle. He felt a sense of nagging unease. He knew in his rational mind that Voldemort was gone, and virtually all of the Death Eaters had been destroyed or captured. Those few remaining at large wouldn't even think of banding together. They would remain in hiding or start a new life for themselves elsewhere, in a place where they were not recognized as having had ties to the Dark Lord. The threat was over, but he found himself unable to relax and join the celebration. He quietly slipped away from the crowd, and went down to his chambers and sat up the rest of the night, rehashing the battle over and over again in his mind.
He finally drifted off to sleep shortly after dawn the next morning and slept through most of the day. Early that evening, he was awakened by a knock at his door. He opened it to find Dumbledore standing with a large black wooden box in his arms, a small velvet pouch sitting on top.
"I do believe it is time that we returned these things to their rightful owner, wouldn't you agree Severus?"
After a moment of confusion, the professor realized that the large box must contain the pensieve and the small pouch the amulet. He grabbed up his robe and hastily buttoned up as he followed the headmaster into the dark forest, just past the apparition barriers.
The two wizards apparated to the location given to Dumbledore by Mira's grandmother, earlier that day. They found themselves in a rose arbor beside a small country cottage near the sea in the Calais region of France. Dumbledore handed the box and pouch to Snape and led the way to the front door of the cottage and knocked. A plump old woman answered the door. "Aaah yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I have been expecting you. Won't you come in, I will fetch Mirabelle." The old woman disappeared into the back part of the house.
"Mirabelle. There is somebody here to see you, chere." Mira looked up from her book with a puzzled look.
"Who could be here to see me? Is it Susan and Tricia?"
"No, chere. It is somebody from the Wizarding School in England."
"The Wizarding School where I went after I got hurt?"
"Yes, chere. They need to talk to you, they have something you left behind at the school."
Wondering what she could have possibly left behind at the school, Mira followed her grandmother to the front of the house, where a very aged wizard with lots of white hair and wearing flashy robes was standing near the door. Behind him stood a much younger man, taller, with long black hair, wearing somber black robes. The younger man held a box and pouch, and something looked vaguely familiar about him.
The older man reached out for her hand. "Mirabelle. How nice to see you again. Do you remember me? My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England."
"Yes. Yes, I remember you now. You're the man who told me how I got to the school, and who arranged for my grandmother to come take me home. "
"Very good Mira, and do you remember my colleague here?"
"Um, I think so. Wait! Yes, I have met him before. I met him when the professors came to the tailor shop to order their robes. They did get their robes didn't they?" She looked at the man standing behind the headmaster, blushed slightly and looked away.
"Yes dear, they got their robes."
"I don't mean to be rude, but grand-mere says that you came to return something that I left at the school. But I don't remember leaving anything at the school. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
"No my dear, I am quite sure that these items belong to you."
Dumbledore turned around and took the pouch from off of the box and handed it to Mira. "This is a necklace that I believe has been passed down to you from generations of your family."
Mira opened the pouch and removed the amulet and a strange look came over her face.
"Headmaster, this is mine, but how did it wind up at the school? It's supposed to be hidden in the United States?"
"Mira dear, the contents of the box my colleague is holding will shed some light on that question and all the rest that you must be asking yourself right now. If you don't mind, there is a simple spell procedure that needs to be performed. Nothing serious mind you, just a routine diagnostic spell to make sure that your head has healed properly and has had no permanent damage."
"Okay, but I feel fine. Honestly."
"It's okay dear, it won't hurt and it'll only take a minute. Why don't you sit down and close your eyes."
Mira looked at her grandmother, who nodded in approval. She sat on a parlor chair in front of a large window that overlooked the rose garden beside the house. Dumbledore stood beside her and Snape set the box down on a small tea table next to the chair. The headmaster then pulled his wand out and performed a simple spell to render Mira in a dream like state for the memory transfer. He turned to the professor.
"Are you sure you can do it by yourself Severus?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure I can manage the transfer on my own."
"Very well then. I shall leave you to it."
Dumbledore turned towards Mira's grandmother and extended his hand. "Eloise, let us retire to your lovely garden and give my colleague room to do the procedure."
The old witch and much older wizard walked out to the garden, arm in arm, admiring the flowers before taking a seat on a garden bench. On the other side of the window, professor Snape had removed the pensieve basin from the black box, and placed it back on the tea table.
He took out his wand, and muttered a short incantation. He then began to swirl the tip of his wand in the liquid silver substance contained in the pensieve, creating a whirlpool. Once the liquid was swirling quickly, random images began to flash across it like motion pictures projected onto a screen. He raised his wand and a ribbon of the substance trailed behind from the bowl. He positioned his wand over Mira's head and swirled it around in the air until all the memories from the pensieve were twirling about above her head.
He recited an incantation and tapped his wand to the top of Mira's head. The memories spiraled down and back into her mind. She gasped from the shock held her hands against her eyes, as if trying to force a headache away. She felt a dizzying sensation and began to see random flashes of memories that weren't her own flashing inside her mind's eye.
The images slowed down and started to come together in sequential order. They played through in a loop, the first time quite fast, the second time much more slowly. She realized that the memories were her own, but were very confusing. Then it all started to come together.
Out in the garden, Eloise DelMare clutched the headmaster's hand and watched apprehensively through the window as the younger wizard performed the spell that would return her granddaughter's memories. Her conversations with the headmaster before taking Mira home the previous winter, and then again earlier that day made her nervous as to how Mira would react once her memories were back in place. Some of them were quite traumatic. But Dumbledore was a great man and she trusted him. And she also trusted his younger colleague, this man who had come to love her granddaughter during their adventures together.
Mira rubbed her eyes and looked up at the man standing before her. After a few seconds a look of recognition washed over her face and she leapt from her chair into his arms, crying. He held her tightly against his chest, eyes closed, with a faint smile working its way across his mouth.