Disclaimer: I only own whatever cannot be traced to any other world that can be consumed by the general public.
Chapter Seventeen: Welcome Visitor, Unwelcome News
Spring slowly melted into summer. The seasons were different and the weather drier in Springfield than they had been in Britain, bringing back memories of his childhood in Italy. Although a Scots-Englishman, all his happy recollections went back to Fata Avallona, the villa of Morgana le Fay in the Straits of Messina, where he had been raised. He wondered what had become of the old place since he left it for the last time. Probably abandoned and falling in on itself even as I think, he thought regretfully.
The same with Aunt Marguerite's chateau, Anne said wistfully. I wasn't like you-I couldn't go back to my English roots. I always will think of myself as French.
Why don't you go back to France, then?
There was a long hesitation, as if Anne wasn't quite sure if she really wanted to answer the question. Too much has changed, she said finally. Have you ever stopped and thought about the fact that almost all of our generation is gone? The war killed so many-too many. There's only a handful from our time left.
Me, you, Remus, Elizabeth, I suppose one could count Sirius, even in his present state, Snape, Mary, not many others that I knew.
One less than your count. Anne's 'voice' was heavy with sorrow.
What is it? What's happened now? God, I thought it was over, at least for a while!
Elizabeth's gone. Anne said it with a stark simplicity that defied denial.
Elizabeth...his little sister. Little Lizzy, with her optimistic outlook and kindly ways. It seemed incomprehensible that she should be dead. Oh, God, no. Not Isabella.
I found out this morning at work. Anne sounded muffled, as if trying not to cry. Frank told me.
Frank?
Frank Longbottom. You know Frank, don't you?
James tried to arrange his thoughts into some kind of comprehensive order. Frank Longbottom...yes, he remembered the man. Serious, not the most outgoing fellow in the world, and willing to sacrifice anything if it would lead to the Aurors winning the war. He and his wife Alice were dear friends of Anne's, and he had known them through the Order-Frank and his angelic Alice, so different from her husband that it seemed incomprehendable that they loved each other they way they did. Their son Neville was the only other person the prophecy Dumbledore believed referred to Harry could be applied to. What did Frank say?
When I came back to work, Barty Crouch told me that I'd been fired-the Aurors didn't trust me anymore-and put me doing paperwork in an office. Anne clearly resented that more than she mourned for their sister; she had always loved her work with a passion that surprised most people. I'm about to die of boredom doing that when this morning Frank comes in and says, 'Anne, I know you said you didn't want to have to see any of us, but I thought it'd be best if you heard it from someone you know' at the same time I said, 'Frank, you don't have to tell me why I was fired, I understand'. Turns out Barty told them I resigned.
Can you get to the point, Anne?
Hush. I have to tell the story in the right order. Frank told me the truth, that I hadn't been fired, and offered me my job back. I took it, and then he told me. Yesterday, Remus showed up. Said Elizabeth hadn't been there when he woke up and little Regina said that she thought she saw Elizabeth leave before the sun came up. Naturally, it had to be looking into-no one can forget that Elizabeth and I are Potter girls no matter who we married- and they managed to track her to what's left of Glenmore, but then she just disappeared without a trace. I was one of the Aurors they sent to her last known location. There was no body, but-oh, God! She broke off with a strangled sob. Blood everywhere-scraps of her cloak-auras of dark magic so heavy in the air you could almost smell it. She's dead.
Dear God. Will they never be satisified, these Death Eaters? How much will it take? How many- he broke off, unable to complete the thought.
Liz is-was-our sister. You're famous, I'm an Auror and a damn good one. They thought she knew something...something about their master. I know how these people think, James. I lived with some of them for seven years, and you don't share space with people that long without getting an idea of how their heads work. It makes me sick, to think people from my own House would believe this madness is honoring our codes. What did Elizabeth ever do to any of them? She minded her own business and tried to keep herself and her children out of this conflict, tried to keep some scraps of our world as it used to be, and this is her reward-being murdered and not even having a proper grave! How am I supposed to tell her kids that Mummy's not coming home again? How d'you explain to a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and an infant what death is? Remus can't-he's a mess, wandering around looking lost. How do I always get landed with these things? He could tell that she was crying, sobbing wildly wherever she was. Elizabeth and Anne had been rivals to the end, but they had also been the dearest of friends-why, it had been Anne who persuaded their grandfather to allow Elizabeth back into the fold after her marriage to Remus! No one else had spoken up for Isabella, but Annamaria had, insisting that the other Potter girl was still exactly that no matter how stupid she was.
Anna...it is the will of God. There is no point in railing against it.
I can already hear you telling me to pray on it, so don't bother, she snapped back. Religion can't comfort me- I want revenge. This is too much! Our whole family's been torn apart, and I won't bear it anymore! If I end up executed, then so be it.
And if they throw you back in Azkaban? James demanded. Anne went totally silent, so much so that he was unaware of her at all for a moment. It was horribly like he was alone in his own head for the first time in his life. Still, he had to do whatever he could to keep her from doing something truly foolhardy. Anne was a passionate, cautionless woman when provoked, but the memory of her spell in prison should be enough to sober even her.
I would throw myself off a cliff before I would go back to Azkaban, Anne whispered. I could not survive it again, darling.
Then don't go do something stupid and giving Barty Crouch a reason to arrest you.
You're too practical. Where are you?
In front of Company. Why? Anne didn't answer.
He found himself feeling the most bizzare thing he had ever felt in his life. Everything seemed to be disconnected at some point and turned on its head, but that wasn't the proper way to describe it. It only lasted a moment, and when it ended he was reeling around like a drunkard, trying to regain his balance. From the bushes, he heard someone cursing fluently in French. Anne stumbled towards him, straightening her black mourning dress-a much more flattering one than what she had worn to his funeral. Even if he had really been dead, Anne was not one to put up with clothes that didn't make use of her natural advantages over other women. It was very obvious that she had been crying. Unthinkingly, he offered her a handkerchief. " You never do have a handkerchief at any crisis of your life, Annamaria," he heard himself say.
She pushed her long hair out of her face. " Never try to Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean," she returned. " It's not fun."
" I noticed." He had arrived by island hopping to avoid that lengthy trip. A moment later she was crying on his shoulder. He heard footsteps, and over Anne's head saw Dinah. Anne looked up.
" This isn't what it looks like," Anne said, as if she knew who Dinah was without being told. Of course she does, idiot! he berated himself. The shock of Elizabeth's death was causing him to ignore the most mercifully simple things. " I'm Anne Black-his sister." Dinah seemed to relax immediately. He could read her like a book: if Anne was his sister, then she wasn't a threat. She smiled.
" James has told me a lot about you, but he forgot-" that said with a look that implied a blessing out at the first opporotunity- " to mention that you were coming."
Anne returned the smile with a wavering one of her own. " He didn't know I was coming. I just came, and it never occured to me to-call." She stumbled a very little bit over the Muggle word, but if they were lucky Dinah either didn't hear or thought the British used a different term. " You are Dinah, aren't you?"
" That would be me. What brings you to Springfield?"
Anne turned her head away and pressed her lips together hard for a moment, collecting herself. " I came to tell James something," she said finally. " Our sister Elizabeth is dead." Dinah's eyes widened with shock.
" Oh, I'm so sorry..." she made a futile gesture, as if not quite sure what to say or do. James put one hand on her shoulder and the other on Anne's.
" Elizabeth was a good woman," he said. " A saint, compared to us." Anne laughed unsteadily.
" Isebelle...she was such a nice little thing, so motherly, so kind." Her French accent was coming through unusually strong as it always did when she was upset or being particuarly seductive. He was fairly sure that she wasn't trying to seduce anyone, meaning that she must be geniunely saddened by Elizabeth's murder. " I remember her reciting her Latin lessons when we were little-d'you remember that, James? Isebelle was always serious, studious, the tutor-ah, he loved her. You and I were mavericks...not so diligent. She was held up as an example for us, but we could not let our little sister lead us, could we? Non! " Anne laughed again, a little wildly. He silently leant her support-the bond between them was even stronger so close-to keep her from going into one of her spells right there. Dinah patted her arm.
" It's awful that the two of you are only able to see each other again like this," she said vehemently. Dinah felt very strongly about family ties, probably because of the highly unstable nature of her own. She had often talked of her desire to spend more time with her father, Ross Marler, but was prevented by his wife, Blake, who hated Dinah even more passionately than Cassie Winslow did.
Anne buried her face in James's handkerchief for a moment. " Pathetic, aren't we?"
" Just unlucky." The two women had obviously connected at once, just as he predicted.
" I'm going to go to church," he told them. " What're you two going to be about?"
" I would like to get to know you better, Dinah," Anne said graciously. James repressed a start. Dinah had made an even better impression than he had thought for Anne with all her French coldness to say that so quickly.
" I'd like that," Dinah said. " How about we go inside and have a Buzz Burger?"
Anne looked confused. " What's a Buzz Burger?"
Dinah laughed. " You'll find out soon enough." She steered Anne into Company, and James headed towards the chapel.
As a boy, James had occasionally gotten his mother and Mary Virgin mixed up. They were both kindly, dark, and wore blue, and that was enough to link them in the mind of a four-year-old being taught to adore the Blessed Virgin even as he adored his mother. Serena would have been horrified had she known that, though-adoration was for God and the Holy Saints, not a mere mortal. He hadn't seen much of her after his fifth birthday-he had been sent to Italy, and it wasn't often that she could come so far-but she'd been as good a mother as any when she was around.
Now, however, he knew that the sad-eyed statue of blue-robed Mary was not of his mother, which was comforting in a way. He didn't like to think about her or the way she had ended. No Potter had died of natural causes for nineteen years at the time of her death, and it had been pure sentimental foolishness to imagine that she wouldn't meet a brutal and violent end just like all of them. She was somewhere in the Heaven she had talked about so often, finally getting to learn how to fly without a broom. If they had Quidditch teams in Heaven, then he had no doubt that Serena would be the happiest angel up there.
He wondered if Mary or Saint James bothered with the prayers heaped on them. Maybe they had some kind of system, selecting the ones they considered to be important and taking those before the Throne of God and ignoring the others. He was fairly sure that his patron and the Virgin were getting heartily sick of hearing from him, even if it was for Elizabeth's soul. Maybe he should try Saint Elizabeth or perhaps Saint Anne to see if they gave a better response, though it might offend Saint Anne, given her namesake's ways. The last thing he needed was for one of the saints to be angry with him, under the circumstances.
Leave theology to the philosophers, he told himself firmly. You're here to pray for Elizabeth, not mull over whether or not prayers are heard.
He repeated the rosary a few times, the Latin words bringing back more memories of Serena and old Father Edward, who had been his confessor from childhood and one of his earliest instructors. It had only been in recent years that he realized the only reason he had any religion at all before the tragedy of Morgan's death had actually been his love for his mother and Father Edward more than any real conviction. After Morgan died, though, there was no one on Earth to turn to and there was a certain solace in the familiar rituals.
The priest here, Danny's cousin Father Ray, came over and sat next to him. Ray was unusual in that, getting to know every member of the congregation personally and even leaving the confines of the church upon occasion. " A wonderful day in our Lord, isn't it?" he said.
" Indeed, Father."
" Anything in particular on your mind?" That was Ray's way of asking if you had come for confession.
" It's not my soul I'm praying for today, Father. I just found out my younger sister is dead."
Father Ray crossed himself. " Was she of the True Church?"
" Elizabeth was very devout."
" If that is so, then you can take comfort in the thought that she is in Heaven."
" Comforting to me and our sister Anne, maybe, but not to her husband and children. She had three, you know...the youngest not six months old, the eldest almost six years old. Anne says that her husband's out of touch with reality."
" I will pray for them," Ray promised. " There's nothing a little prayer and patience can't mend."
James repressed a bitter smile. " I hope you might be proved right, Father."
Anne and Dinah were talking and eating when he got back. They gave him identical smiles when he sat down. " One thing I can say for these Yanks," Anne said. " They have good food."
" Have you tried coffee yet?"
Anne made a face. " Don't hold your breath waiting on me to. "
Dinah tucked her hair back. " You all right?"
" I'll survive. Ray says to be comforted by the thought that Lizzy's in Heaven."
" Where neither one of us will probably ever go," Anne finished for him. " Her good fortune-I doubt Liz would be so fond of her mansion in Paradise if she had to have us for neighbors in death as she did in life!" Her eyes were sparkling and she was flushed. To keep her from getting emotional, he quickly changed the subject.
" Has anything good been going on in your life since I've been gone?"
Anne's face lit up. " One good thing. I went on a visit to France."
" Why?"
" To see my girl. Her name's Fleur, by the way. She's almost four now-such a beautiful child! I never saw fairer, and I don't say that because she's mine. She looks exactly like our Grandmother Potter." James remembered their grandmother, tall, slender, and with the white-silver coloring of a veela. Little Fleur Delacour would be irresistable if she looked like Solenge and was like Anne. Anne herself was still talking. "I've been to see her every Wednesday for a month, now-her aunt says that it's always 'Maman this' and 'Maman that' nowadays. She's very clever-she can read French and she speaks French, English, and some Latin already."
" Her aunt?"
" Pierre and his fourth wife-Madeline's her name-don't like having 'Madame Anne's daughter' around them," Anne said matter-of-factly. " Pierre swears I'm no better than a common whore and he wants nothing to do with me and mine. Madeline made him go into therapy when she married him so he'd desistin his wife-beating, and since then hasn't had the gumption of a goose. Add in that she doesn't like me and Fleur is more beautiful than her brats, and the child's being raised by Pierre's sister Marie. I inquired very closely about her-Marie's a good woman. She'll take care of Fleur, and she doesn't mind that I want to know the girl or that I'm mentioned as Maman instead of that woman, as they call me."
" You have a daughter?" Dinah asked.
" Two daughters," Anne corrected. " Fleur Delacour and Charlotte Black. Fleur's father kept her away from me until now. Charlotte's a bit small to tell if she'll be as beautiful as her sister, but I suspect so, for all they had different fathers."
" Neither of them could ever hope to be more beautiful than their mother," James said gallantly, causing Anne to look at him like he'd run crazy. False modesty had been one of her more variable faults, sometimes there and sometimes not.
" How long will you be here in Springfield, Anne?" Dinah asked. Anne shrugged.
" Oh, a few days. I suppose I'll be camping out on your couch, James."
" Which translates from the ancient Woman Language to meaning I will be camping out on my couch," James returned. Even in the depths of sorrow he and Anne retained their wit, he had discovered over the years. It was easier not to let grief overwhelm him when he and his sister acted as if nothing was wrong. Anne raised her eyebrows.
" Of course it does, darling. I'm surprised that you've learned to translate our language already. Most men never do."
" Amen to that," Dinah said.
They kept company with Dinah and the occasional other Company regular until Dinah went home for the night, then they went up to his room, the one place they could think of that they could talk without there being any chance of being spied on, even by some normally harmless gossip who might hear something she shouldn't.
" A pity we don't have real silver or wine," Anne murmured as she conjured up both items. " I don't like using magic on something as trivial as conjuring things." She sat down and poured for both of them. They drank a wordless toast, almost ritualistic in nature. It had been a long time since they did this, but it had also been a long time since they needed to feel even closer than usual just to carry on.
" So," James said at last. " The Unholy Trinity is now only the Unholy Duo, I suppose."
Anne released a long, uneven sigh. " It is always so. Little groups never hold together in times like these, brother. We were foolish to think that even this smallest of circles could remain unbroken." Her eyes filled with tears. " D'you know what my first reaction was when Frank told me that they believed she was dead?"
" What was it?" Their voices were barely above whispers.
" I remember thinking, 'if it had to be one of us, I'm glad it was her instead of me or James'. What kind of sister am I?"
James pressed her hand comfortingly. " If it is any consolation, I would have thought the same in your shoes. We have something that Elizabeth was never part of. "
" Yes," Anne said. " But I still miss her. She was maddening, but she was very good to both of us."
" I know." She stood and went to his side, putting her thin arms around his shoulders.
" You've got to stop blaming yourself," she said without heat. " There was nothing you could do for Liz, her less than the others you imagine are on your conscience. You weren't even in the country, James."
He tried to explain. " I should have been, Anne. I should have been there to protect her."
" No one could have," Anne insisted, anger still unusually lacking in her voice. " Elizabeth slipped out in the dead of the night and probably knew that she was going to her death when she went. Let it go."
" All right. I'll try. For you." James realized that he and Anne had pushed Elizabeth aside, were going to try to forget her like she never existed. They had been called heartless, but that wasn't it. They had just come to the conclusion that refusing to face the pain of loss was the only way to bear it. He didn't want to talk about Elizabeth anymore, lest he start thinking about it too much. " Have you heard anything about Harry?"
" No," Anne said bitterly. " I've been trying to get him back from Petunia, but Dumbledore always gets in my way. The boy's half Potter and should be raised as one of us, but you know the Dumbledores-Morgan was the only one of the lot with a scrap of family pride or notion of how such things work. He will not understand that Harry can never be who he was born to be if he isn't raised among his own sort-among other Potters. That's why I'm taking an interest in Fleur...so she'll know who she is. I don't feel any more for her than I would for a favorite niece."
" Maybe it's for the best," James said. " Our family can hardly offer a very happy childhood for anyone. Even if we could, Dumbledore would never let his newest pawn go. You and I, Annamaria, are nearly past our usefulness. You have been married twice and I am legally dead. He has only a very few schemes left for us. Our children, on the other hand...He thinks he knows what Harry's destiny is, and he will incorporate everyone else into that destiny."
" He knows nothing," Anne said, a little sharply. " They call your son the Boy Who Lived and hail him as a hero, but they and Dumbledore know nothing. I do not even have the Sight, and I have more idea of what the boy's true destiny is."
" I have Seen nothing," James told her. " Maybe it's how often I'm using another kind of psychic magic to communicate with you or maybe I've been away from Avalon too long, but I haven't had a proper vision since I came to Springfield."
" I'm almost glad," Anne admitted. She looked old, with harsh lines around her mouth and her fine bones seeming to rise through her pale skin. " If you haven't, then we don't have to know what's going to hit us next for a little longer, at least." There was no reply he could make to that, so he didn't even try.
Author's Note: The grammar in Dinah's speech and that of most other Springfielders is intentional. I just imagine how Gina Tognoni(Dinah, GL) or whatever other character would say something and that's how I write it. In any other places, it's due to the fact that I had a very bad sequence of English teachers who never bothered to teach me more than an ounce or two of grammar and mechanics. I'm self-taught, so forgive the errors.
Augusta.
