The second part of the two-shot, to be followed by an epilogue.
This is a disclaimer for the broken-hearted:
It's not mine
And it won't be, ever.
Even though I'm, oh, so clever
I just want to own for a short while
But it ain't mine.
Written by Novinha
Beta-read by Lara and Siren (Thank You!)
Personal Reasons
Chapter Two
"I was terrified, sir…" I manage to croak and Dumbledore hands me a handkerchief. "I was sure that Malfoy was going to…"
"Yes… Mr Malfoy. We haven't expected-" Dumbledore trails off and I look at him expectantly, and by the way of answer he looks at me sharply. "Did he… do something while…"
"No, sir. He brought me straight to the… revel."
I hesitate a while before adding, "I was shocked when I saw Professor Snape."
We exit the room and, strangely enough, I feel glad. I don't think anything done by Lucius Malfoy can be as bad as being hopeless, and mindless, and manipulated by Mr Thatcher. We Portkey into an unfamiliar room. I lose my balance and stumble as we land, and the result of that is quite painful, as Lucius Malfoy hasn't let go of my hair throughout our trip.
"Excuse me, friends," he says nonchalantly. "I was delayed on my way, but I think the present I brought here should more than compensate for your time."
He drops me to the floor and I fall forwards. All I can see is boots, pairs of socks and hems of robes.
"What is she doing here, Lucius? Weren't we supposed to discuss some urgent-" one of them asks impatiently, only to be stopped mid-sentence.
"I assure you this is much more urgent, Jeremy. The young Mudblood you see," he begins, as I scramble to my feet, "is, in fact, the ever famous Miss Know-It-All Granger."
I look up and hazard a short glance at them. Seated in comfortable looking armchairs, the five of them look at me expectantly. I recognise Dolohov and see pure unadulterated hatred in his narrowed eyes. On his left sits an unfamiliar looking blond, short-haired wizard. On his right I see a pair of similar looking strangers - probably brothers - one of which is the supposed Jeremy. And then I spot him.
Professor Snape.
"And who the hell is Miss Granger?" I hear someone ask and, as I've already lowered my gaze, I can but guess that the speaker is the short-haired blond.
"Hartley, you watch your language. And, to answer your perfectly moronic question - Miss Granger is Harry Potter's best friend, as everybody knows."
"Apparently not everybody, Lucius."
I remain on the floor, not daring to stand up. There is nowhere to escape, anyway; I don't have a wand and I am severely outnumbered, even if I can count Professor Snape in. I take time to register the surroundings. We are in a rather large room, with a fireplace in the far end. The wizards each hold a glass, and the strong aroma of tea mingles with that of alcohol.
My musings are interrupted by Malfoy's sharp reply.
"If I wanted to be on first name terms with you, Hartley, I'd suggest it."
"So, what do we do now? Question her to get to know all about Potter and then the world is our oyster?"
"If you refrained from showing off the fact that you were raised by a Muggle loving fool-"
"You don't speak ill of my father, Malfoy-"
I don't look at them while they argue and instead I let my gaze lock with that of Professor Snape's. He gives no sign of acknowledgement, and his eyes remain just as cold as ever, but somehow I feel I can expect help from him. This does not make the situation much less dire, however.
"Gentlemen, please refrain," Dolohov interjects calmly. "Am I correct in assuming you want us to lure Potter here, Lucius?"
"That about describes my idea, Antonin."
"Do they know about her disappearance yet?"
Of course, Malfoy can't be sure about it, as he hasn't asked Timothy the Fanged about the details of my kidnapping. Extremely inconsiderate of him, but then, I guess he must have been in a hurry to get here.
"If they do not, then they soon will," he answers. "But now… I don't really think she should…"
"Stupefy!" is the last thing I hear before the darkness engulfs me.
"Now, Miss Granger, do you know which one of them stupefied you?"
"It was Malfoy."
"Hmm… Interesting," Dumbledore mutters under his breath, and I wonder what he might be referring to. "How long had you been unconscious?"
"I am not sure, but I don't think it was for longer than an hour."
When I wake, sometime later, I am in another room, alone with just Dolohov and Snape. Dolohov stands closer to me, and I don't like his smile in the slightest. If he has a reason to be glad, it's definitely not good news for me.
"Miss Granger, welcome back among the living," he says, with false cheer. I notice that his brown eyes are actually very cold, the way I used to think only pale ones could be. Well, and that of Professor Snape's, but then, the man is an exception in itself.
I let my gaze wander and look at the Professor. He is standing in the back of the room, wand in hand, his arms crossed. His posture, as well as face, projects rigid disgust.
"Do you remember me, missy?" Dolohov raises his voice ever so slightly. "I remember you very well. I've been thinking about you for a long while."
Of course, I do not reply. I am sure that anything I could say would just serve to infuriate him further.
"Dolohov, we need her alive," Snape mentions, nonchalantly. If he would just roll his eyes he would paint the perfect picture of boredom and superiority.
"But she will live, Snape. Crucio!"
I am nearly sure that Snape flinches when the curse is uttered, but the torture overcomes me swiftly, and all thoughts leave my mind as white-hot needles of pain pierce my bones and muscles. I can't stop the cries from escaping my throat, though my voice soon goes hoarse from the effort. It seems like ages pass before the curse is finally lifted.
"Stop it, Dolohov. We need her, and you are going to drive her insane."
"We need her alive, not on the top of her form."
"If you drive her mad now, what fun will she be later?"
This seems to be enough of an argument for Dolohov, who doesn't raise his wand again and settles for glaring daggers at me. Snape avoids my eyes, intently watching his own shoes. I let my lids drop a bit and pretend to be unconscious.
"Dolohov, weren't you supposed to report to Malfoy?" Snape's voice pierces the silence some ten minutes later. We seem to be waiting for something.
"No, Snape. I am to watch her until Hartley comes to take her to the place where we want Potter. It's you who needn't be here."
"I am just making sure you don't spoil her while she is still needed."
"Yeah, sure. Maybe you just want to have a round with her?"
"If I wanted to have her, that would be a matter between Malfoy, as he brought her, and I. You keep your nose in your own business, Dolohov."
"Oh, but I am. I want her to be my business."
"My, aren't we possessive today. I'd be devastated to be the one to tell you that the chances of your getting her are sparse."
"You watch your back, Snape," Dolohov hisses after a while. "There are some who are fed up with your arrogance. You might be Malfoy's lapdog, but he won't protect you forever."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin, Dolohov. Forewarn your potential victim… such cunning."
"You bastard!"
Dolohov stands up and raises his wand. Snape doesn't even bother with his own; instead, he advances on Dolohov and in a one long stride reaches him, catching his hand mid-movement. With a flick of his wrist, he snaps the wand in half. Dolohov gasps in shock, but is left defenceless.
"How dare you!" he croaks, his back turned so I can't see his face. "How dare you, this wand belonged to my grandfather!"
"Ah, yes. Was that the one you killed for his estate, Dolohov?"
Dolohov turns red and is nearly humming in anger, but speaks no more. Snape seems very pleased with himself and smirks so gleefully that even I have a temptation to wipe that self-assured expression off his face. The tension is palpable.
I am nearly relieved when some time later Hartley enters the room.
"I would like to hear your impression of Mr Hartley. Was he aggressive? Who did he appear to respect, and not respect, among the Death Eaters you saw? What seemed to be his motivation?"
"I am not sure, sir. I just saw him for a few-"
"I know, Miss Granger. I am merely asking for your subjective opinion."
"Well… He seemed to be quite passive-aggressive. He was very, very defensive, as if he were waiting to be attacked at any minute. He was very impolite towards Malfoy and tried to get Professor Snape to take his side whenever possible. I would say he felt alienated and that would be the reason for his strange behaviour. And it was like… like he wanted to belong, but didn't want to let others know it mattered to him at all."
Dumbledore gives no indication whether my words are what he expected or wanted to hear.
"And he barely looked at me at all…"
The door opens loudly and a man steps in. I can't recognise his face, as the main source of light is now the one behind him, turning his figure into a mere silhouette. So it is only when he speaks that I recognise him. Hartley truly has a distinguishing voice, a bit raspy and low, but rising to a high-pitch when distressed.
"Dolohov," he spits distastefully, and then continues slightly less disgustedly, "Snape. I have a Portkey to the place."
He doesn't name it, as if it mattered whether I heard it or not.
"Wonderful. I am afraid we are going to have to take Dolohov with you by Portkey, seeing as his wand is-" Snape begins a sentence, just to be interrupted by Dolohov's furious voice.
"How dare you-" Dolohov begins just to stop abruptly. I suppose he is not about to claim he had his wand broken in his own hand by a man he attempted to hex.
"And why, pray, are we all going to the place? I'd think Snape and I would be more than enough escort for a wandless and unconscious Mudblood," Hartley argues.
"This is the Mudblood who fought in the Ministry, Hartley, don't you forget. And last year she disarmed Bellatrix in a duel," Snape spits. I suppose I have never heard him speak so highly of me. If only I knew all it took was to be supposedly unconscious, I'd try fainting in class.
"Sheer luck on both accounts," Hartley sneers.
"So let's prevent a chance of her being lucky today, shall we?" Snape answers contemptuously.
"Whatever you say, Snape," Hartley answers. "As long as we don't waste any more time."
Dumbledore takes a sip of mint tea he had summoned while I was speaking. The liquid is steaming, and the smell fills the room. I have to stifle the impulse to stretch my hands to take the mug the moment it is put down on the table. I don't really want to drink; I just wish I could warm my hands against it. It is unusually cold in the office, or at least it feels that way. Maybe it has to do with the spells and abuse inflicted upon me.
It is no longer dark outside, I notice.
"Miss Granger… what did you think about the fact that they didn't name the place they were taking you to?"
"Well…" I am confused. I am not sure at all what he suggests or maybe asks about. "I was a bit surprised that it mattered to them whether I knew about it… after all, I was supposed to die anyway."
Dumbledore seems to stop himself from saying something, but I can't be sure if that's the case. For all his being a Gryffindor, the man has quite a lot of Slytherin tendencies.
But since when exactly did I start to think in these strict House terms? Aren't they as prejudiced and limiting for the mind as the pure-blood nonsense?
"Do continue, Miss Granger," the Headmaster says.
And that is what I do.
Dolohov grips my left hand painfully and shakes me awake, under close scrutiny of Hartley. The wizards all grab the Portkey and I feel the awful pulling around my navel. I know I am going to absolutely hate Portkeys from this night forth, if only I get the opportunity to live.
When we arrive, I fall to the ground and vomit violently, emptying my stomach on the ground and one of the Death Eaters' boots.
The wizard in question swears violently and his shoe connects with the side of my face, sending my head spinning. I taste copper in my mouth and from somewhere distant I realise it must be my blood. The warm liquid drips down my chin and cools instantly.
"What do you think you're you doing, Crabbe?" I hear Malfoy's voice, laced with anger. "Didn't I tell you we needed her alive?"
"I didn't kill her, I just-"
"You idiot!" Malfoy nearly shouts, "you could break her skull or spine!"
"But she… filth… my boots…" Crabbe is babbling uncontrollably, and I swear I can smell his fear in the air.
"Crucio," Malfoy whispers, and I hear the other wizard's body fall to the ground with a heavy thud, and his shriek of pain pierces the air.
"I really think it is high time you learnt to obey simple orders, you fool," he says quietly, before taking a step in my direction. I feel the tip of his wand touch my face and I freeze reflexively. He mutters something, but instead of more pain I feel a warmth spread across my face, and the bleeding stops. He withdraws quickly, as if I could contaminate him with my Muggle-born blood.
It takes a minute for the pain to dull somewhat, and only then do I try to pull myself to a sitting position. It seems we are in some kind of a cemetery, Muggle by the look of it. There are six wizards here - Malfoy and Snape stand directly behind me, whereas Crabbe and Dolohov take places on my left, and Hartley and Jeremy Something or his brother on my right. I don't risk looking at them for too long, preferring to pretend to be at least partially disorientated, which isn't difficult, taking my throbbing headache and twisting stomach into account.
"How long are we going to stand here?" Snape asks, lacing his own voice with as much distaste as the few words can hold. "And what exactly is the plan?"
"I will humour you, Snape, if only because I am in a good mood tonight, and why then should I deprive you of the pleasure of hearing me speak," Malfoy drawls in his best American accent. I want to tell him that that voice of his sounds awfully common, and that drawling is quite overrated and passé. But I bite my tongue, and soon Malfoy is speaking again…
"You all know that it is impossible to send a Portkey to Hogwarts, whether by Floo, owl post or any other means…"
Well, it is stated in "Hogwarts: A History" quite clearly.
"So we can't just send the Potter brat a Portkey. Hell, if we could, there'd be no need to bother with that scum," he says, indicating in my direction. "So I owled him Miss Granger's lock of hair and asked him very politely to exit the castle and be in the Shrieking Shack, where our next owl should find him, if he wishes to see his friend alive.
"Now, I didn't even lie, we will let him see her alive - for a short while. Then we'll kill them both."
He smiles angelically, but the scar manages to ruin the impression.
I get a bit agitated after I disclose these pieces of information, and I notice that my left hand is now covering the spot where a large bruise must be visible on my face. I realize it is shaking and lower it slowly. I hold both trembling hands in front of me, willing them to grow still.
The Headmaster doesn't comment, but makes a small movement with his hand. A steaming mug of strong green tea with lemon and sugar - the last bit I determine after I take my first sip - appears before me. I can't count how many teacups I've drunk already, but the amount is considerable.
"Thank you, sir," I say quietly.
"You are quite welcome."
I want to ask him how he knew what my favourite tea was, but know he'd only twinkle at me and ask me to continue with my story. So I bypass that part and begin the tale once again…
"So we merely wait until Potter appears to save the day and catch him when he does," Malfoy finishes, smugly.
"And what do we need her here for?" Dolohov asks angrily.
"Because if Potter sees she isn't here, he will Portkey away the moment he Portkeys in," Malfoy answers as if it was blatantly obvious. "And we still need to… interrogate her."
"I can lend you a hand in that," Dolohov sneers.
"Thatcher seems to be my choice in the matter, Antonin," answers Malfoy coolly.
So we wait. And wait. And wait.
One of the wizards to my right lights a cigarette. Snape swears under his breath and moves his hand impatiently.
"I think I need to take a moment in the woods," Jeremy states, and Malfoy nearly growls.
"Does this look like a school trip to you, Jeremy? Can't you hold your butterbeer? We are here waiting for Potter!" he pauses, before sighing audibly. "Be quick about it, boy. If anyone else needs to relieve themselves, I suggest they go now," he hisses, with a voice full of venom.
"I'll go," Snape mutters, and after a moment both men stalk into the wood. A few minutes later, Snape comes back, alone.
"Where's Jeremy?" Hartley asks quietly.
"Neither do I know, nor do I care," Snape answers. "Or do you think I should?"
Hartley lets the matter drop, as could be expected.
I wonder whoever writes their dialogues.
Ten more minutes crawl by. Malfoy and Snape keep whispering about something. Crabbe is nervously fidgeting and muttering something under his breath. Once in a while, he takes a deep breath and then lets it out loudly. I suppose he must be still suffering from that Cruciatus.
"Hartley, go and fetch Jeremy. If Potter doesn't arrive soon, we might have to get going."
The wizard leaves silently.
"So it was Malfoy who gave orders all along, Miss Granger? And did the others obey him completely?"
This time I am quite sure the Headmaster stops my story in order to let me collect my thoughts and get a grip. I am reaching the next difficult part of it, and he knows that; I am thankful for his consideration.
"Yes, sir. He seemed to have a great deal of authority over them."
""And would you like another tea?"
I decline his offer in an act of mercy for my bladder.
"Maybe you would like a biscuit?" Dumbledore asks, pleasantly.
"No, thank you, sir."
And, reluctantly, I return to the story.
No more than two minutes pass since Hartley left when I hear some noise. I look up and can't believe my eyes.
The first thing I see is Malfoy's wand, lying in the grass about three inches from my leg. I throw myself in its direction and catch it, and only then do I raise my head to look at the thing's owner - Malfoy is looking down at me, but doesn't even attempt to move in my direction, which is strange. And then I notice that instead of standing on his left, Snape is now half-hidden behind the other wizard's back. Malfoy's hands are weakly raised to the air, and his rigid posture belies his fear.
"Don't you two move," Snape commands, and I flinch, startled by his voice. He directs his words at the remaining Death Eaters. "…Or I will fire off a nice severing hex, and you can bring the Dark Lord Malfoy's head on a silver platter. Now, that may sound pleasant enough, but it would have immediate and dire consequences, considering his authority in the Inner Circle."
Dolohov is wandless, so I suppose he wouldn't dare attack even if there was any love between Malfoy and him. And Crabbe's hands are still shaking from the endured curse. The only two dangerous wizards here are Malfoy and Snape - and the Professor has Malfoy at the tip of his wand.
I look back at my hand. I, too, have a wand. I blink slowly and realise I must be a bit dazed from all that has occurred.
"Break your wand, Crabbe. I will not repeat myself. Now, you both - lay down on your stomachs. Slowly. And you, Lucius - don't you dare move. I am easily startled, and the incantation for Incendio is short. Even more so is that for Cruciatus, you may realise.
"Miss Granger - stand up, if you can. And come here."
I shakily nod and stand up, every movement of my body stretching into eternity. At last, I am on my feet, my wand hand shaking.
Malfoy keeps looking at me, and I am a bit unsure of what his gaze holds. As much as contempt, I can also see something else there… a kind of detached interest, perhaps. I see no fear at all now, which surprises me. Fear would be understandable.
The man's expression speaks of complete control. He lets a small smirk fleet on his mouth and he raises an eyebrow just the tiniest bit, as if asking me what I am waiting for.
What I am waiting for, indeed. I take a step in Professor Snape's direction and then another. Not for a second do I let myself stop looking at Malfoy, just in case he attempts anything.
I reach Professor Snape's side without collapsing, and I am prouder of that than I was of my OWL results, and that is saying something.
"Petrificus Totalus," he speaks softly, and Malfoy falls to the ground.
"Farewell, gentlemen," he adds, and then he clutches at my hand, uncomfortably reminding me of my vampire's grip on me from just a few hours earlier.
The world melts around me and I experience the dubious pleasure of joint Apparition.
At least it isn't another Portkey.
The Headmaster listens carefully to my opinion on Malfoy's behaviour and answers, considering his words carefully.
"Miss Granger… I suppose Mr Malfoy knows Professor Snape better than we'd like him to - for he either knew that Severus wouldn't have enough magical energy to both kill him - or any of the other wizards - and Apparate you both safely, not after having done what needed to be done with that other wizard - or he assumed that Severus wasn't capable of killing him."
I notice the emphasis and ask the obvious question.
"Why wouldn't Professor Snape be able to kill Malfoy, sir?"
"Because of their long time… association… and family bond."
"Professor Snape and Malfoy are related?" I ask, curiously.
"Distantly." The Headmaster dismisses the question and staples his fingers.
We Apparate into the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The impact throws us both to the ground and, surprisingly, I am the one to somehow regain the upright position, whereas the professor stays on the ground, sitting and breathing heavily.
"Are you alright, s…sir?" I ask, politely, stuttering just the tiniest bit. It is suddenly terribly cold around me, and I feel my jaw muscles trembling, making my teeth clash.
"Shut up and don't speak unless I tell you to," he mutters back in a most unpleasant voice. "Right now I am wondering whether it would have been better to simply leave you there, you stupid girl."
If it weren't for the lack of strength in his voice I'd probably be offended - but as we aren't yet at the safe haven of Hogwarts and my saviour seems to be in dire need of being saved himself, I spare my breath. I may as well stay silent and oblige him.
He is still sitting and I am beginning to worry quite seriously about his state - his breathing is ragged and as I eye him, I notice that his hands are trembling. He catches my gaze and scrambles to his feet, furiously, making a show of being capable to do so effortlessly. The effect is quite spoilt when he has to support himself against a tree only seconds after standing up.
I pretend to have seen nothing at all, for the sake of keeping him calm, or at least non-violent.
The way back to the castle seems to be a bit more than we can both manage at the moment.
"Mr Longbottom gave us Harry's map and that is how we knew about you the moment you were back on the grounds," the Headmaster says, calmly. "I sent Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid to fetch you, because I assumed help could be needed. Luckily, they managed to get you back into the castle before the Death Eaters arrived."
"So… so the Death Eaters actually showed up here?"
"Mr Avery and Mrs Lestrange, about twenty minutes after your arrival. I was keeping an eye on the map while Madam Pomfrey assisted your injuries."
I ponder the information he gave me. The result I come out with seems quite ominous.
They wouldn't be so daring if they didn't have an attack planned for the near future - possibly an attack of the full Death Eater forces. I was thinking along these lines earlier in the evening, but now… now I am sure.
"You needn't concern yourself with this, child," Dumbledore speaks softly. "We are prepared for what is to come, and we will not allow any of you to be endangered."
"But sir… I have managed to blow the cover of your spy among the Death Eaters… How will you know-"
"This is a matter I will deal with, Miss Granger. But I do not want you to keep torturing yourself about this. I have repeatedly asked Professor Snape to put an end to his mission. I believe the risks he was facing far outweighed any advantage we could gain."
I feel a terrible pounding in my temples.
How glad I am that it is almost over.
We start our walk towards the castle at a pace that would put a snail to shame. I am not sure which one of us is slower - I keep a slow but steady pace, whereas Professor Snape walks about twenty steps in what can almost pass for a normal pace before he is forced to stop and take a few deep breaths, so that he can try another twenty steps. I glance at him nervously once in a while - just to be further scared by the way he looks. Ashen doesn't begin to describe his colouring, and he seems to be on the verge of fainting. This frightens me, as I am quite sure I would never be able to bring him back to the castle, Mobilicorpus or not.
"Sir, maybe we could stop and just give a signal? Someone would come for us from the castle…"
"And find us gone, as the Death Eaters will come upon us the moment we disclose our location."
I fall silent.
We walk for another quarter an hour before Professor Snape faints.
I look out through the window and see the sun rising. It is a magnificent sight, and blinds me momentarily. The Headmaster kindly does not say anything about my pausing.
I am terrified. I don't think I can levitate him - I am much too exhausted and I don't even have my own wand. Who knows how that of Malfoy's would react to me.
"Sir? Wake up, sir!" I shout straight into his ear.
He does not stir.
"Oh damn," I mutter and catch his wrist to check for a pulse. It is there, but feels irregular and quick.
I think about my options - I can try to wake the man - slapping is what one does in such situations, is it not? - or I can leave him and try to get to the castle to bring someone here to take him. Somehow neither option seems appealing. I am terrified he might die while I am away - when unconscious, the man seems so vulnerable. I realise I now owe him a life debt - a thought which does not bring me great joy.
And just then, sparing me the decision, the professors arrive and take us back home. Professor Snape is carried by Hagrid, whereas I am leaning upon Professor McGonagall, whom I find is much stronger than she seems.
When we enter the castle, I try to blink away the tears that appear in my eyes, but they still escape.
We are safe.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. We will discuss this no further today. I suggest you go to your dormitory and have a long rest."
The Headmaster stands up with a small sigh, and I am not sure whether I imagine it or actually hear his bones popping into place. He isn't smiling, but he doesn't seem as sad as he was earlier. I must admit that as glad as I am to have this over with - I still wish I could spend more time in his presence.
Too often do we underestimate Albus Dumbledore. The only wizard Voldemort ever feared is also the wizard who chose taking care of children of the wizarding world over gaining influence and ruling as the Minister. He works hard to make us understand and accept each other and ourselves, so that no other generation of wizards enters the world divided and biased, believing in the old prejudices of being Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, pure- and Mudbloods.
"Thank you, Headmaster," I blurt out. "I don't know what we all would do if it weren't for you, sir."
He smiles in response, a small familiar light appearing in his eyes. Everybody needs to be appreciated once in a while, it seems.
I exit the office and descend down the stairs and past the statue of the gargoyle. As I exit, Professor Snape steps out of the shadows and we nearly collide.
"Watch where you're going, Granger," he hisses, and I look up at him. Our gazes lock for a second and I see the exhaustion and worry in his eyes. The way he looks at me isn't contemptuous, though he does seem rather angry.
"I am sorry, sir," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady.
"As you should be," he comments.
"And I wanted to thank you for saving me, sir. It was a very courageous thing to do, sir."
"Merely pragmatic, Miss Granger," he answers quickly, as if gravely offended. "If they questioned you, they'd learn of my betrayal sooner or later. This way I saved a pair of hands that will work for the Order. Not to mention, it was an opportunity to repay a few old feuds," he adds, as an afterthought.
"This way you risked your life, sir," I state, quietly.
He answers me with a brisk nod and a scowl. "Fizzing Whizbees," he mutters darkly. I stare at him in confusion for a moment, before hearing the gargoyle move to reveal the Headmaster's stairway. He sweeps past me without another glance, robes billowing in his wake.
...
A/N: Sorry for the disclaimer, couldn't stop myself.
I hope that I'll be able to post the epilogue soon.