57. Ashes to Ashes
His whole office, and everything in it, was destroyed. She left it a mess and made her way back to the hospital wing, feeling empty inside. Upon her return she found Mrs. Weasley, as well as Fleur Delacour, at Bill's bedside. Neville was awake now, and Callie went to him. He noticed her vacant expression and whispered, "Are you all right?"
"No," she replied, not meeting his eye.
He hesitated, before saying, "They told me what happened." A pause. "Dumbledore... Snape."
God bless him, the look on his face wasn't contemptuous like Harry's had been. No sense of I knew he was no good or I told you so. Instead, he appeared rather sympathetic towards Callie, knowing that she'd actually appreciated Snape in a way that he and Harry and everyone else hadn't.
"I am..." she muttered softly "...exceedingly stupid."
With a puzzled expression, he said, "What?"
"I trusted him," she explained. "I defended him. I spent the whole year worrying about him." She felt like such a God damn idiot, so naive. "How could I have not...?" She trailed off, shaking her head to herself.
"You're not stupid," he declared. "Everyone believed that he was on our side. Dumbledore himself believed it."
Oh, God, Dumbledore. The kind-hearted, soft-spoken angel who'd sent flowers to her dad's funeral, and given her cigars to cheer her up. The man who'd believed more than anyone that Snape was good, and forgiven him completely for his past crimes. I would trust Severus Snape with my life, he had said.
And the son of a bitch had betrayed him. For nearly two decades.
Callie crawled into the bed and cuddled up close to Neville, resting her head on his shoulder. "Bloody hell," she whispered, a realization coming to her. "I saw Snape on the staircase during the battle. I let him go up to the Tower."
"You couldn't have stopped him," he said. "And you didn't know."
But she argued, "Malfoy told me that Snape wanted to kill Dumbledore. I thought he was full of it, but... Good Christ, for once he was actually being sincere."
In a low voice, Neville asked, "He really told you that?"
"Yes. And I told Dumbledore what Malfoy had said, but he still trusted Snape." She paused, fighting to suppress the tears that threatened to fall again, before she whispered, "And so did I."
They lay in silence for a moment, Neville stroking her back as she thought about her last conversation with the headmaster. For just a second, he had looked a little bit unsettled at the idea that Snape could be lying about his true loyalties. He'd had his doubts, Callie thought. But they hadn't been enough to shake the man's faith in his colleague. She wondered how he could have been so trusting. But then again, how could she?
Unable to hold back any longer, she began to cry. And in that moment she was racked with guilt, because while she was obviously sad about Dumbledore, it wasn't his death that had left the heavy, aching feeling in her heart. Instead, she wept for the man who had murdered him. Christ, how dare she shed tears for Snape after what he had done? But right now, she so desperately wished he was here - that he was still himself, as she knew him, not the rat bastard who'd betrayed everyone. She could imagine an alternate reality in which he was just as shocked and devastated as everyone else over Dumbledore's death. In which he joined the other heads of house as they worked to figure out how to proceed without the headmaster. In which he remained with the Order, perhaps even taking over as their new leader - he would push for control of the group, what with Dumbledore gone. And the image of she and him mourning together, sharing a drink in his office and toasting to the man, was clear in her mind.
Instead, he was on the run somewhere, probably gathered with his fellow Death Eaters. Or maybe he had met with You Know Who to announce that he'd accomplished his task, that Dumbledore was dead - by his hand, not Malfoy's. Perhaps he was basking in the glory of having pleased the Dark Lord. No doubt he'd be rewarded greatly for taking out the only person his master had ever feared.
It hadn't just been Dumbledore who'd died that night. All year long, she'd been praying that her head of house would survive the curse on the Defense job. And while he'd managed to walk out of the castle alive, the Severus Snape that she knew, that she trusted - and that, on some level, she may have even loved - was dead.
She continued to sob in Neville's arms as he held her close. Her dad was gone, Snape was gone - Dumbledore was gone. She felt as though the boy was the only person she had left in the world, her only source of comfort and security. And while she clung to him as though her life depended on it, a single thought played over and over in her mind.
Don't ever leave me.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
She was out on the Astronomy Tower. Muffled sounds of the battle below filled her ears. The buzzing of spells whipping back and forth... somebody screaming... the ceiling caving in... But she couldn't go down and help her comrades, because the door to the staircase was blocked. Fenrir Greyback was in front of it, hunched over Bill Weasley with his mouth at the redhead's neck, eating him.
And all she could do was stand there and watch. My wand is gone. She had no way to defend herself or to save Bill. He's going to die.
Suddenly the werewolf looked up at her, and she realized that it wasn't Greyback - it was Lupin. Relief swelled up in her at the sight of him, but then it quickly fell away as he scowled at her, a vicious, wild, animalistic glint in his eye. "Professor..." she breathed. But the gentle man she knew had been possessed by his wolfish instincts, and he lunged at her.
"No!" she screamed, struggling with the non-human as he tried to take a bite out of her. "Please, sir, don't hurt me!" But there was no reasoning with him. He plunged his teeth into her throat and blood spurted out all over his face. Still, she fought with all her might, clawing and hitting and trashing beneath the half-man, half-animal.
"Callie!" a voice called out. "Callie! Callie, wake up!"
She felt a slap across her face, and she was flailing her arms like mad, thinking she was still in the dream. But somebody grabbed her wrists and held her in place, shouting, "Wake up, Callie, open your eyes!"
She did so, wildly gaping around as she struggled to gain a sense of her surroundings. The figure before her took her chin in their hand and made her look at them. It was Hermione.
"It's all right," she said in a firm but assuring tone. "You're in Gryffindor Tower. You slept in our dormitory, remember?"
Gasping for breath, her face covered in sweat and tears, the Slytherin stared at her friend as the nightmare faded away and reality began to set in. But what was real? The werewolf was real, Bill Weasley's mauled body was real. The screams were real...
Dumbledore's dead, she thought. That was real.
Snape's gone. That was real, too.
Hermione conjured a towel and wiped the girl's tears away, a look of deep concern on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"I-" Callie stuttered. "He was- Lupin-"
Hermione blinked and said, "What about Lupin?"
The Slytherin explained, "He was... attacking me, he was..."
Understanding came to the Gryffindor, and she said, "It was only a dream. You're safe now."
She didn't feel very safe. "Dumbledore's dead," she mumbled. Hermione nodded sadly. "And Sna-" She paused. Don't say his name, she thought. Don't you dare bring that bastard up to her or anyone. He isn't worth mentioning. But she couldn't help herself. "Snape, has he...? Has anyone heard from him?" she whispered.
"No," the girl replied quietly. "He isn't coming back, Callie. After last night, he... he wouldn't dare." She stroked the girl's hair in a pitying manner, then pulled her in for a hug. Callie wrapped her arms around her best girlfriend, grateful for the fact that she was still here, and Neville was still here, and Harry and all the others. Dumbledore was dead, and Snape was... gone. But everybody else was still around, still alive.
Even so, she still felt numb, devastated - empty.
A while later, she made her way down to the common room, pausing when she spotted Harry on the sofa. The boy had never looked as upset with her as he had the previous night, when she'd tried to argue that Snape couldn't have done what he'd said. Please don't hate me now, she thought. "Harry?"
He turned to face her, and his expression was hard to read. There were hints of both anger and sadness, but more than anything else, he had a sort of detached look about him. Numb, just as she felt. He didn't say anything, but made a grunting sound in acknowledgement of her. She lingered by the staircase, not sure whether it was a good idea to approach him or avoid him. Hesitantly, she went over to the sofa and sat beside him, ready to back off if he told her to.
After a moment, he said, "I heard you were one of the only ones who showed up last night."
"Yes," she replied in a whisper.
They were quiet for a minute or so, before he said, "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," she said. "I wanted to be there. This is my fight too, Harry. My mum, my friends, my whole world... I'm not going to stand back and watch it all go to hell."
Shaking his head, he said, "I just feel so... lost without..." He didn't go on, but obviously he was going to say Dumbledore.
She wondered if he had felt the same way about the headmaster as she had felt about Snape. The loss of Dumbledore had left her with so many questions about what the future held, now that he wouldn't be around to lead both the school and the fight against You Know Who. The fate of the Light Side seemed so shaky, so vulnerable now. But she knew it would've been so much easier to take, that she'd have felt so much safer, if Snape was still there, and still good.
Harry wasn't the only one who felt lost now. The only difference was who had provided them with that sense of security that had gone up in smoke overnight.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said after a long silence. "For everything. That Dumbledore's... gone. That you had to watch him die." A pause. "For questioning you last night." He turned to look at her, and she met his eye. "It's not that I didn't believe you," she said in a small voice. "I just didn't want to." She took a deep breath and went on, "Have you ever been betrayed by someone you actually cared about?"
He studied her a moment, shaking his head slightly. "I just can't fathom what good you ever saw in him," he remarked with a strong note of bitterness.
She gave him a small, sad shrug and replied, "I know he was awful to you. But he was different with me. I don't know if it was because I was one of his, or..." She trailed off, not having any other explanation for it. "Whatever the reason, he was..." she paused "...when he wanted to be..." She shut her eyes, fighting back the urge to cry again. "He was good to me." A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.
She kept her eyes shut, waiting for Harry to argue that he was a bastard, a traitor, a murderer. But then she felt him take her hand in his, a bit awkwardly, but - she assumed - trying to be comforting. She looked over at him in surprise, and he said quietly, "I don't get it. I'll never get it." A pause. "But... I know he meant something to you. So, I'm sorry too."
She held his gaze, watching as his own eyes became red and glassy. And then she leaned over to pull him into a tight embrace. Despite all that he'd been through in his life, she had never seen him cry. But he couldn't hold back anymore as he choked out a sob, and she stroked his hair in an almost motherly fashion. Bloody hell, she thought, his mother, his father, his godfather... and now Dumbledore.
Don't you dare cry over God damn Snape.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
She'd had a couple of house-elves move all her stuff from the Slytherin dungeon to Hermione's dormitory. Thankfully the girl hadn't given her any flack about ordering them around, but she had attempted to give them a few galleons for their work. They'd refused, of course. But for the final day of term, she was set up in Gryffindor Tower, and had no desire to return to the dungeons. Not even when - and if - the school reopened in the fall.
"Has the board of governors made a decision yet?" she asked McGonagall, who had sent an elf to bring her to her new office - Dumbledore's old one. A portrait of the man hung behind her desk. He was sleeping peacefully, and Callie hoped that his spirit was also at ease. After all, he deserved the break.
McGonagall sighed and said, "They're still debating it. We - the other teachers and I - believe that it would've been Professor Dumbledore's wish to keep Hogwarts open. However..."
"Yes?" Callie prodded.
The woman shook her head, looking troubled. "After what's happened... not only the headmaster's d- death, but also..." she seemed to be fighting back tears "...You Know Who's men gaining entry to the castle..." She paused. "And now with... Severus..." Anger colored her tone when she said his name.
"Is he going to be able to get back in here?" Callie asked. "Surely he can bring other Death Eaters in easier than Malfoy did."
"We've added special protections around the castle. He doesn't know about them, he oughtn't be able to break through them."
Callie scoffed. "He's Snape," she said. "He can do anything."
McGonagall didn't try to assure her that it was safe. She's honest and straightforward, the girl thought. I like that about her. I wish she'd been my head of house.
The woman laced her fingers together and rested her head against them. "Miss Warbeck," she said, sighing once again, "I know you had a... special relationship with... Professor Snape."
Callie hesitated, then said, "Not really, ma'am. Considering everything I thought I knew about him was a lie, I'd hardly call it 'special.'"
"But you liked him," she argued. "You respected him."
She hated to admit it now; the thought made her sick. But she replied softly, "I did." It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Neville about the kiss. She hated keeping things from him, but something had held her back. She could imagine that he would forgive her - after all, there'd been nothing romantic or sexual about it. If anything, it had been more of a goodbye. Of course, she had never imagined it would end like this. But even now, knowing who he truly was, she didn't want to share that moment with anyone. It was the last memory she had of Severus Snape as she'd known him. The last time that he was still good. Their last little late night chat in his quarters. The last private moment they'd had together. It was almost sacred.
"Callie," McGonagall said after a moment, "Severus Snape was my student. He was my colleague for sixteen years. He was someone I'd considered a friend." She paused. "As much of a friend as someone that... standoffish could be."
"He wasn't always so terrible," the girl remarked.
"No. Not always." There was an obvious look of sadness on her face as she thought about the man who had betrayed everyone. And Callie felt, for the first time, that she wasn't the only person in the castle whose heart ached, not just for the loss of Dumbledore, but of Snape too. The fact that she wasn't alone on this made her feel even more grateful for Minerva McGonagall than she already had.
The woman buried her face in her hands and said, "I should've known."
"You couldn't have," Callie replied. "He was an excellent spy." She sighed. "Which is exactly why Dumbledore kept him around."
When McGonagall showed her face again, there was a tear on her cheek. She wiped it away and reached into a drawer. "Forgive me for getting emotional," she said, and Callie couldn't help but smirk as she thought, That's what you call emotional?
She pulled out a thick envelope and a tiny box wrapped in shiny green foil. "I was going through the headmaster's things and I found these," she explained. "They were left for you."
"M- Me?" Callie asked, furrowing her brow.
McGonagall handed over the box. "Your name is on the tag," she said. "And this..." She slid the envelope across the desk. Written on it were the words, Your school records and a recommendation for St. Mungo's - good luck, Miss Warbeck.
She was stunned. When had he written it? She wouldn't even be applying for the program until fall. He knew Malfoy was trying to kill him, she reasoned. Maybe he figured that he might not be around that long.
But with the prospect of his own death to worry about, he had made the time to write up a bloody letter of recommendation for her? She tore open the envelope and read it over. He'd begun by gushing over her academic performance and talents, but it was the last few paragraphs that got her.
As you can see from Miss Warbeck's records, she is an exceptional student with a brilliant mind and a never-ending thirst for knowledge. But what is even more remarkable is her extraordinary character. In all my years of teaching, I have seldom seen a student more dedicated than she. To every endeavor she gives her all, whether that be reaching a scholastic goal, standing up for what she believes is right, or protecting and defending the people she cares about.
And she certainly does possess an immensely caring and nurturing disposition. She does not hesitate to lift someone up when they are down; she will encourage them to become all that they are capable of. She also displays a greater than usual ability to empathize with others. Her compassion extends not only to her friends, but also to her adversaries. In addition to the proficiency with which - I'm sure - she will provide healing magic, Miss Warbeck will be greatly valued by the patients of St. Mungo's for her kind-heartedness.
Finally, she shows incredible strength and resiliency. Having suffered the loss of her father at a tragically young age, she has proven capable of navigating through such devastation with grace and courage, and has grown into an admirable, independent, tenacious young woman. You will be most fortunate to have Calista Warbeck on your team. I say with unwavering confidence that she will make you, your staff, and all of wizarding Britain proud, just as she has made me.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
She traced her fingers over the man's signature, and this time, she didn't bother to suppress the tears. Christ, he's really gone. And this is what he thought of me? All this time? She never would've guessed that the man she'd spent so little time with over the last six years had held such high opinions of her. But then again...
He was all-seeing. He knew me better than I thought he did. A small smile curled her lip as she looked up at the man's portrait. Thank you, she thought, knowing that, somehow, he would hear it.
She returned the letter to the envelope, and then unwrapped the shiny green box. Inside was a little gold pin studded with rubies and diamonds. Clearly a rather valuable piece, but that wasn't what struck her about it. The pin was in the shape of a phoenix. Callie read the little note that the headmaster had set in the box:
Well known for its ability to rise from the ashes.
She studied the words, knowing that they weren't just a random comment, but a message. Rise from the ashes... capable of navigating through such devastation with grace and courage.
Again, she furrowed her brow. "Professor..." she said, but didn't go on.
He was all-seeing, all-knowing. But he couldn't have...
"Callie?" McGonagall prodded.
He couldn't have known that he was going to die. But... the recommendation he'd prepared months in advance... the note about "rising from the ashes"... even the pin itself, which he'd left for her as though it were an heirloom. People leave heirlooms when they know they're dying.
But he couldn't have known... could he? He knew Malfoy was after him, but he hadn't seemed so worried about the boy, who was clearly no match, and no real threat to him. Had he suspected Snape? That night when she'd brought up Malfoy's claims about their head of house, she could've sworn there'd been the slightest hint of unease in Dumbledore's eyes. Perhaps he hadn't really been as trusting as he'd led everyone to believe.
But if that were the case, then why hadn't he warned anybody, or gotten rid of Snape?
"Callie?" McGonagall repeated after a moment. "Is something wrong?"
The girl shook her head, more to herself than to the new headmistress. "No," she replied. "Nothing, just... touched." She indicated Dumbledore's gift. Well known for its ability to rise from the ashes. There was something... something telling in that note. As if he were saying, Be strong. You're going to get through this. But what had he been referring to?
Dumbledore knew everything, a voice in the back of her mind called out.
Yes, but he couldn't have predicted this.
Yet, that night in his office, hadn't she felt there'd been something he wasn't telling her? And then she remembered his last words to her - No matter what happens, just remember... everything's going to be all right.
No matter what happens.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
She'd worn the pin for Dumbledore's funeral the following morning, and as she and Neville sat by the lake afterwards, waiting for the train to take them back to London, she twirled it in her fingers, still trying to figure out the true meaning behind the note he'd left.
"I mean, I don't think he knew he was going to die," Neville said, "but he might've expected it."
She had shared her thoughts with him, her feeling that there was something... off about the headmaster's words, and the recommendation he'd prepared months in advance, as though he had guessed that he wouldn't be around the following year to write it.
"What's the difference?" she asked, furrowing her brow at her boyfriend.
"Well," he replied, "he knew that You Know Who wanted him dead. He must've figured there was a chance that... that he would..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words. That he would die. Sighing, he went on, "But that doesn't mean he knew for sure. Or when it was going to happen."
That was so reasonable. Thank God he was able to think straight the last two days.
"It's like a will," he continued. "You get everything in order just in case something happens. I think he just wanted to make sure you were taken care of."
"I never knew he cared that much about me," she said. "I mean, not to that extent. He didn't leave you anything, did he?"
"No," he replied, and then he got a pensive look on his face. "Wait... should I be offended by that?"
Callie chuckled. God love him, he had actually gotten her to smile, to laugh, for the first time since everything had gone down. Rolling her eyes, she joked, "I guess he liked me better than you." Then, holding up the pin, "Rubies and gold - Gryffindor colors. Ya know, I went to him in second year asking if I could switch houses."
"You did?" he asked with a grin.
"Mhm. He convinced me to stay in Slytherin, though." In a teasing tone, she added, "The old, ruddy git."
Neville looked out over the lake and said, "I always thought you ought to be in Gryffindor. 'Where dwell the brave at heart?' I've never known anyone with bigger balls than you."
"Eh," she said, playfully slapping his arm, "that was supposed to be a secret!"
His laugh turned into a groan as he grabbed the side of his stomach. He was still in a bit of pain from his injuries, and underneath his shirt was a back brace. But overall he'd come out just fine, and Callie had gone overboard playing nurse for him. It was a good way to make herself feel useful and try to take her mind off everything else. "You want a potion?" she offered.
"Nah, it's not that bad," he replied, lying down on the grass and wincing.
She held his hand and moved closer to him, glancing back at the hundreds of mourners who still remained on the castle grounds. "Bloody hell," she said, "I'll never get this kind of turnout at my funeral."
"Don't worry," he replied. "I'll be there and I'll bring a date."
"Hmph. Quite the jokester, you are."
He shot her a wink.
She couldn't help but smile at his cheekiness - and the fact that he had been her one beacon of light throughout all of this. "Neville," she said after a moment, "remember when I said that if we were both single at forty, I would marry you?"
"Do I remember?" he said, cocking a brow. "Hell, I almost went out looking for rings."
Her smile widened, and she went on, "We don't really have to wait another twenty-three years, do we?"
As he looked up at her, the implication slowly set in. "Wh- What are you suggesting?" he asked.
She lay on the grass beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm saying that I don't intend on ever loving anyone else," she explained. "And that I never want to be away from you. And that I feel safer when we're together, and happy. Even after all of this, you can still manage to make me laugh."
"Cal..." he began, but she cut him off.
"I would even take your name." She paused. "Or at least hyphenate it. 'Callie Longbottom-Warbeck.' Kind of a mouthful, but-" she shrugged "-I like the sound of it."
He gaped at her, and said, "Wait, are you... You're not actually asking, are you?"
She hesitated, but replied, "Why not?" Then, after a pause, "You can feel free to say no."
He reached up to caress her cheek as he said, "You know that I'd never say no to you, Cal. But I'm supposed to ask you. Get down on one knee, give you a ring... make a whole grand, romantic gesture, ya know? Ideally not at someone's funeral."
"Then do it," she said. "You've got a month before we're seventeen. I suppose I can wait that long."
He furrowed his brow. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"Now is not the time for games, Comrade."
He sat up - wincing again - and she followed. "Bloody hell," he breathed.
Her confidence began to fade as she watched him look off into the distance. Her emotions were completely heightened as of late, and maybe she was being a little rash. But she desperately did not want to ever lose him. She wanted him by her side no matter what happened. You fight, I fight, she thought. You die, I die. You live happily ever after, I live happily ever after.
"Cal," he said, turning to her, "I love you." He took her hand in his before going on. "And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you laugh."
Christ almighty, is he really doing it?
"But..." he continued, a rather despondent expression on his face, "...I've heard stories of people rushing into marriage during the first war, 'cause they thought they were going to die. They wanted to make it official before... ya know." He sighed, before going on, "But I want us to do it on our own terms, not because it may be our only chance. And not with all this going on, this... darkness. I want it to be a happy moment, not a desperate one."
She understood where he was coming from, but argued, "This war could go on for years, Neville. Or... we may not even win."
"We will," he declared. "I know we will."
She shook her head. "You can't know that."
He pondered it, and said, "All right. Then if we don't, you and I will get the hell out of Britain - maybe take refuge with the 'crazy American bastards-'" that got a laugh out of her "-and settle down as the Longbottom-Warbecks. How does that sound?"
"Our poor kids will have to go to Ilvermorny," she joked.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "We'll teach them ourselves."
"Or we could just disappear to some unknown corner of the world."
He smiled at her. "I'd follow you anywhere, love."
"Either way, I'm getting that ring. Nothing major - ten, twelve carats oughta do it."
He took her face in his hand and pulled her in for a kiss. "I really do plan on marrying you," he whispered. "And win or lose, I am not waiting twenty-three years."
"Well then, let's hope they wrap this thing up soon," she said, before looking back at the castle. "Do you think we'll be back here in September?"
"I don't know," he replied. "But... if we are, then consider yourself a Gryffindor now. 'Cause I'm not leaving you alone in the dungeons."
"Hmph," she smirked. "My knight in shining armor."
He checked his watch and said, "The train'll be here soon. We better go." She helped him to his feet and they made off down the path to Hogsmeade Station.
She threw one final glance back at the castle, wondering when she was going to see it again. Why even bother coming back if it does reopen? Why not join the Order instead? I'm sure they could use some new recruits. She did have plenty of knowledge regarding defense - and Dark Magic.
And oh, how she'd love the opportunity to test her skills on the man who had taught her so well. One day... he will have to face me again, she thought.
And I look forward to it.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Author's note: I can't believe how far I've gotten with this story. I love to write, but I usually start and stop without ever finishing anything. Thank you all so much for continuing with it :) To be honest, I struggled more with year six than any other year, so please let me know what you thought.