Disclaimer: Characters and ideas from the Harry Potter franchise are not my own.
Rating & Trigger Warning(s): See Chapter 1 for possible trigger warnings and an explanation of the M rating.
Beyond the Fear
Ch. 26: Phoenix Feathers
Albus Dumbledore refused to leave the Hospital Wing. Minerva was torn up, physically and emotionally, and his newborn daughter spent most of her day in the magical incubator that arrived thirty-six hours after her birth. If the remainder of his family couldn't go home, then neither would he. They lost a son, and he wondered if Artemis could sense that she lost her twin brother. After seven months together in their mother's womb, could she somehow detect the absence of Apollo's magical field?
They never canceled the delivery of the second incubator. Typically, the incubators were used to keep babies warm and simulate the uterus, but really, they could be controlled at various conditions. Poppy set the spare to preserve Apollo's body until his parents could give him a proper funeral. She instructed them through the heartbreaking task of swaddling him in a blanket that was meant to be his, and in the fabric bearing his name—Apollo Robert—he lay inside the incubation-turned-preservation tank. Fawkes watched over him night and day.
On that fateful night, Poppy had to be the one to break the news to their guests and friends. She was the lead Healer, after all, and her two assistants were family. They had their own complicated feelings of grief and joy, of balancing their personal heartache with their professional obligations. Isobel focused on stabilizing Artemis, and Melinda concentrated on supporting Minerva. Albus didn't envy her role of coaxing and coaching his wife to pump her breastmilk for the first time to start up her supply for Artemis. He tried to learn as much as he could of the actions that he could take to help her provide nourishment for their daughter, but in her frustration, she sometimes refused his offers to assist.
He knew that she blamed herself. Every time she voiced her guilt aloud, he insisted that none of this was her fault. Eventually, she stopped saying it, but he was sure that the thought still stood centerstage in her mind. She cried when they were alone, and all he could do was hold her. Words weren't helpful when she was weeping, and often, he wept alongside her. What worried him was the return of her steely façade whenever Poppy came to see them, which was often—for feeding and pumping sessions, for management of mother and daughter's physical health, and just for a friendly check-in. They didn't have long stretches of time alone when Minerva might properly let out her emotions, and Albus was uneasy at how quickly she seemed to flip from inconsolable crying to stony stolidity. It had been ages since she last held back in front of the mediwitch, but now, she was clearly withdrawing into herself.
Yes, we need our privacy and time to ourselves, but we can't isolate ourselves from our family and friends for too long. We don't have to be alone for this, Albus thought. They spent Friday and Saturday largely by themselves, except for Poppy's routine appearances and a brief moment when Albus stuck his head out the door to speak with Pomona about what she and Filius should do. Their plans for the uncles and aunties to meet the twins were dashed upon Apollo's death; their grief was far too raw for guests. Only Melinda and Isobel stayed, and they both went home after the incubators arrived. In addition to telling everyone what happened, Poppy also had to explain that the devastated parents requested no visitors until they felt ready.
Being bedbound can't help matters, either. He found solace in standing by his daughter's incubator and speaking softly to her. Although he offered to wheel Minerva over to see Artemis, she found the transitions in and out of bed entirely too painful. The emergency evacuation especially put her body through hell, and she wasn't permitted painkilling potions as long as Artemis drank (or, more accurately, was magically fed) her milk. Perhaps when she has recovered a bit more from delivery, then she can focus on her emotional healing.
As it was, Minerva felt a great emptiness, much like her still-large belly that reminded her of what was supposed to be. Her uterus was once again a hollow cavity, and so, too, now, was her heart. She hated herself for it—not just for failing Apollo; she was sure that she was failing Artemis.
She made it. Shouldn't I be happy? Minerva thought. How can I not be happy when my daughter is with me? What kind of mother am I?
"Albus?" she whispered into the dark of a very early Sunday morning. They were now between scheduled overnight visits from Poppy. Artemis had been fed, changed, and was asleep for the moment.
"Yes, dear?" He had just climbed back into bed after watching over Artemis as she drifted off to sleep. Poppy taught him the spell that safely transferred milk into baby's tiny tummy, and he was keen to feed her with the Healer's supervision. He hoped that Minerva would soon feel well enough to get out of bed to do the same, or that Artemis would be strong enough to come out from the incubator long enough to be fed in her mother's arms, even if only by wand.
"Am I bad mum?"
"No, of course not. What makes you say that?" As much as he didn't like that she felt the need to ask the question, he was relieved that she initiated a conversation.
"Because you and Poppy are taking care of Artemis, not me."
"It's not your fault that you've been on very strict bedrest, and it's also not your fault that she isn't big enough to brought to you yet. Besides, you're still doing the hardest part of feeding Artemis. Your milk is helping her grow. I know it's been a struggle sometimes, but I am sure it will feel second nature soon enough."
"I feel like I should just deal with the pain and have you push me in a wheelchair over to her. Shouldn't I be able to do that for her?"
"You gave her your womb for seven months, and your body suffered trauma mere days ago. I can't tell you what you 'should' be able to do by now. My feeling is that you need the rest." He reached over to cup her cheek and brushed a tear away with his thumb. "My two favorite witches are going through a lot right now, but I am optimistic that you will both be all right with time."
"…You're going through a lot, too. Your son didn't make it because of me."
"Min. You didn't do anything wrong. Our little Apollo didn't make it because of a tragic accident with his umbilical cord. There's nothing you could've done differently to prevent it." He raised a finger to her lips. "And don't you dare say that Poppy fed us bollocks so that you wouldn't feel guilty.
"We knew that Apollo's birth wouldn't be without complication, as the second twin, and in a non-ideal orientation…," he continued, his voice fading. He paused for a sniffle. "We hoped for the best because nothing could prepare us for the worst. Yes, this is hard for me, but I have you and Artemis. We have our close friends and family. We can get through this together. I know you need your space sometimes, dear, but please don't shut everyone else out. I couldn't bear to see you return to isolating yourself."
Minerva didn't say anything. She simply buried her face in his chest, clutched at his partially unbuttoned shirt, and sobbed. Albus held tight to her and shared his quieter tears.
"I wish it were me instead."
Death doesn't do trades, Albus thought, and this wouldn't be a good one. "You don't mean that. Then they'd both be without their mother."
"I don't deserve to be a mother."
"Minerva…"
"Apollo's death is my punishment for using you. I don't deserve to be a mother, and I don't deserve to be your wife."
"Come on, tabby. Please. That's not true. None of that is true."
"I should've died, Albus! I should've died a year before they were conceived. Then neither of us would hurt like this."
"Minerva!"
He might've asked, "Where is this coming from?" Only, he knew exactly where it came from. It came from her grief, wrapped up in anxiety, which unraveled into depression.
And he wanted to say, "But what about the past ten months we've been married? What about the past year and half we've been a couple? Then we'd never have known love like we do now." He knew better. This wasn't about him.
Albus took a deep breath. "Minerva, my love. I know you're hurting, perhaps beyond what I can imagine, but I need you to remember that your life matters. I need you to believe it. You are a wonderful woman. Nothing that you've done and nothing that has happened to you changes that. Okay?"
"But it could change."
"I don't think it will."
"What if I can't produce enough for her? What if I never get her to latch? How can I be a good mother if I can't feed my baby?" Minerva asked. "What if she doesn't recognize me because I haven't held her enough yet? What if I can't soothe her because she can sense how afraid I am? What if she grows up to feel like we resent her as a permanent reminder of her twin? What if she feels like we don't love her because she was meant to have a brother? What if she thinks we wish it were her instead Apollo?"
"If any of these situations arise, then we will figure out how to move forward. Poppy will help us, and I am sure your sister-in-law and niece would be happy to have a chat with you about your concerns. When your body has recovered, you can see Healer Loughlin again. Min, we will get through this. We are going to be good parents to Artemis. Very soon, you'll be healed enough to spend time with her, too. For now, Poppy and I will make sure she gets what she needs. We are partners in this; as our darling daughter's dad, I can handle feedings and nappy changes, especially while you're not able. We will shower her with love together."
After another long silence, Minerva asked, "Where do you get your optimism?"
"From you."
"Be serious."
"I am." Albus weaved his fingers into her hair. "Look at me. I know it's dark, but look at me anyway, please."
Minerva lifted her head from his chest. "Fine."
"When I see you and when I think of you, I think of strength. I think of resilience and of brilliance. You have all of these things, Min. They're in here." He kept his hand on her head. "And in here." He moved to touch her chest. "And you give me all of these things, too. You give me strength through our love. You give me hope that makes me feel resilient. And you and me together, well, I daresay we just might be the most brilliant couple in Britain." Then he tried to lighten the mood. "I got this ego all by myself."
She couldn't quite manage a smile, but she knew it would assuage him to say, "Never say something so pompous in public, please."
He kissed her forehead. "We're going to be okay, dear. We are."
"…Perhaps we can see our brothers soon, then."
"Really?" Albus asked, delighted that she suggested it. He thought that the uncles deserved the chance to see their niece and their nephew, if they wanted. Surely, they had a mixture of feelings to process, and perhaps they needed to see for themselves the delicate new baby and the one who should have been, too. For his own sake, he wanted his brother to meet the baby girl he and Minerva named after their little sister.
"Really." She laid her head back onto his chest. "When sitting doesn't hurt so much—Poppy might be able to patch up a tear in a second, but I underestimated how bruised and swollen I'd be… and how painful it is."
"Do you need me to get you a fresh cooling pad?" While the heating pads on her belly could simply have their Charms refreshed, the cold ones in her knickers needed regular changing—along with the knickers themselves. It had never previously occurred to Albus just how difficult the aftermath of childbirth could be. He knew she'd need recovery time, but he didn't know exactly what that would entail. Now, he watched and listened to her as she complained about "leaking out all my tender bits"—not to mention, those "tender bits" hurt to varying degrees. He felt the utmost of sympathy toward her whenever she tried to sit up on her bottom bits or express milk from her top bits, and he tried not to take it personally whenever she growled at him.
"I can wait for Poppy."
"It's not a problem for me to go to the cupboard."
"Only if you really don't mind. I don't want to burden you."
"You could never." He held her securely. "I vowed to cherish you through triumphs and tribulations, through wellness and illness, from our wedding day through eternity. I do, Min. I do. I love you."
By midweek, Minerva was able tolerate the transfer to her wheelchair and could sit long enough to spend time with Artemis a few times a day. She still needed plenty of rest and time off her bottom to continue healing, but being with her baby and participating in her care was a boon to her battered soul. Although Artemis couldn't come out yet for more than a few minutes, they savored the precious seconds they had to hold her in their arms. Poppy supervised and was ready to put her back inside at the first sign of distress, but she managed to make the new parents feel comfortable enough to bare their chests to tuck the newborn into their dressing gowns and against their skin.
Malcolm and Melinda took off from work to visit one morning. Since Melinda already had the harrowing experience of watching Apollo die, she suggested that Malcolm decide what he wanted to do first: see his deceased nephew or meet his surviving niece. After greeting Albus and Minerva—who lay in bed for her necessary rest—Malcolm took his wife's hand and walked over to the magical incubator to start with the happy meeting. Upon Minerva's request, Albus joined his in-laws.
"Hi, there, little one," Malcolm whispered. He tentatively touched a finger to her palm and smiled as she demonstrated her grasping reflex. "I'm your Uncle Mal. I'm your mummy's brother." A tear slid down his cheek. "I am so sorry about your brother. I wish he could be with us, too."
Melinda squeezed his shoulders. "It's Aunt Mel again, baby. I love you. We love you. Uncle Mal and I are a daddy and mummy, too, and our babies are all grown up now. You've already met one of your cousins, and our children are also your big cousins. When you're bigger and both you and your mummy are ready, I would love it for you to visit our home and meet them."
"Aye. The McGonagall clan is so glad to have you…"
"Artemis," Albus murmured. The babies' names were outside their isolation chambers, but it occurred to him that he and Minerva didn't announce their names and introduce the twins as they had planned. "We named her Artemis—a strong name like her mum."
Malcolm nodded. "Artemis." He glanced down at her nameplate:
Artemis Ariana McGonagall
Born 15 June 1989, 11:55 pm
"Artemis Ariana. What a lovely name for a beautiful bairn."
"We think so, too."
Although she was still small, Artemis could fuss enough to indicate that she needed something. Albus pulled his wand to check her diaper, but Melinda, with her well-developed instincts, beat him to the spell.
"Why don't you let Albus and me take care of this, Mal?" she suggested. She lowered her voice. "Talk to Min."
Malcolm nodded and returned to his sister's bedside.
"Is she okay?" Minerva asked. She wished she could get up for all of her baby's needs. She constantly needed to remind herself that she needed to rest and recover, and her husband was perfectly capable—and equally deserving—of caring for Artemis.
"Wet nappy," Albus said. "Melinda and I have this under control."
"…I know." This shouldn't be my sister-in-law's responsibility, she thought.
"Min." Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed. "Is this okay?"
"It's fine."
He stood up; nearly fifty years with his sister and thirty years of marriage told him that "fine" often was anything but. "I love my new niece already. She's perfect."
"She deserves better."
"What do you mean? She is getting the care she needs. She has you and Albus. You're going to give her an amazing life. She gets to live in a castle, of all places. Mel and I love her, and I'm sure your friends will, too. We're all going to spoil her."
"She deserves a mother who can take care of her."
"You're getting there, though. Mel told me you'll need extra care and recovery time, so I get it if things don't look as you'd hoped they would. It's been less than a week; even if everything had gone smoothly it would take some adjusting. We struggled in the beginning, too. It's normal."
"You were young," Minerva countered.
"And my youth only explains that I was immature. Being a new parent is hard. It's hard even when it's not your first time. Mel knew everything from her job, but she still had trouble adapting to being a mum… and then a mum of two, and finally three," Malcolm said, trying to be reassuring. "You'll be brilliant, Min, and it looks like the great Albus Dumbledore is also a great husband and father. You're going to be okay, and so is Artemis. You've got each other, and you've got us."
Malcolm sat down in the visitor's chair and picked up his sister's hand. "I know you shouldn't have had to take care of me and Robert so much when we were kids, but you were a wonderful big sister to us. You're an amazing aunt to our children and Robert's. That's how I know you'll be a fantastic mum. You can do this."
"I couldn't even keep my son alive."
"Min…"
"You should see him, you know." She pulled the white sheets over her head and turned away.
"I—okay."
He took a deep breath and approached the preservation chamber, where Fawkes stood guard. He flitted into the air and found somewhere to perch where he could oversee both Apollo and Artemis. Albus and Melinda quietly joined Malcolm, but Albus couldn't look for long. He closed his eyes and allowed his tears to fall silently.
Malcolm took off his round-rimmed glasses and dabbed at his eyes with a tartan handkerchief. For a while, he simply stared inside the glass tank at the tiny body inside. Apollo was smaller than his sister to begin with, but now that difference would only increase while Artemis grew, and he didn't. "Damn. Why? Why did it have to be like this? To have one twin without the other…" He blew his nose. "I'm sorry, little one. I hope you went peacefully, and I know Min—your mummy—I know your mum and dad will give you the farewell you deserve." His eyes fell upon the name.
Apollo Robert McGonagall
Born 16 June 1989, 12:12 am
Died 16 June 1989, 12:51 am
"Apollo Robert," Malcolm read aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. "Apollo Robert McGonagall." He turned around to look at his sister, tears now openly streaming down his angular face. "Oh, Min. I'm so sorry that this has happened to you."
Minerva emerged from the sheets. "…And I'm sorry that I didn't give you a nephew."
"Excuse me? I didn't catch that," he said as he made his way back toward the bed. "Let me give you a hug."
Minerva lifted her arms to wrap around her brother as he leaned in and embraced her with his long limbs. "I said I'm sorry I didn't give you the nephew you wanted."
"What? Min!" Malcolm responded, flabbergasted. "That's the least of my concerns right now. And just because he's passed on doesn't mean he's not my nephew. Apollo's soul is simply with his namesakes, not with us. I bet Da and Robert are with him right now."
"I still feel like a failure," Minerva confessed quietly. "You should have a nephew. Artemis should have a brother. Albus should have a son—"
"You don't owe me a nephew, Min. This isn't your fault!" Malcolm interrupted. "Don't even try to argue about that. Now is not the time to be my stubborn big sister. Let me help you, please." His voice cracked.
"I don't deserve help."
Meanwhile, Albus had hung back with Minerva's sister-in-law near Artemis in an attempt to give the siblings some semblance of privacy. Melinda traced her hand over the nameplate.
"Is Ariana a family name, too?" she asked.
"My younger sister."
"Is she…?" She didn't have to finish the question. Surely, she could figure out that Ariana Dumbledore, like Robert McGonagall, Jr., was deceased, if she wasn't present with Aberforth for the birth or a member of the wedding last summer.
Albus nodded. "She was fourteen."
"I'm sorry."
"Me, too." He lazily held his hand inside his daughter's chamber and managed a smile as she reflexively gripped his offered finger. "When we found out we were having a boy and a girl and discussed names, it suddenly felt very special that we could give our late siblings' names to them… like it was a chance for their spirits to live on in our lives this way. As heartbroken as I am, I can only imagine how Minerva is feeling. I… I already feel responsible for my sister's passing, and if it were Artemis instead… I think I might relive Ariana's death all over again."
"They spent a lot of time together when Robert died. Min was his rock. It hurts me to think about how she must have bottled up her grief for his sake, especially now that I know she must have hidden her pain—not just about Robert—for years… perhaps her whole life," Melinda said somberly. "I think Mal wants to be her rock now."
"I'm afraid that she's already trying to bottle up her emotions again. I know we'll be grieving for a while, but… do you think she'll be all right? Do mums come back from this?" Albus was distraught that he felt the need to ask that question. He couldn't help but worry: What if this time is too much?
Melinda placed a hand on her brother-in-law's arm. "In time." She sniffed as her own tears managed to escape. "She's strong, and it seems to me that she has a wonderful group of friends, in addition to her family, to support her through this."
"I hope she'll let them help. She needs everyone she has right now."
"You need support, too, you know."
"I do know. My brother will be by later today. I—I was relieved when she agreed that our siblings could visit. She hasn't spoken to anyone but Poppy and me since you and Isobel went home. She… barely even speaks to me sometimes." And then it feels far too much like her behavior after her… Damn. No. I won't lose her, too.
"Between the grief and the hormones—and the physical pain, too—it's a lot for one person, but things will get better. If it seems like they're not, we'll find ways to help her," Melinda said. "Is she planning to return to therapy once Poppy clears her?"
"I think so. I—I'll encourage her if she's hesitant. Seeing Healer Loughlin regularly has done wonders for her mental health."
"I can give you some names for mind Healers who specialize in grief or postnatal depression if needed."
"Thank you, Melinda. I will certainly accept all of the support we can get."
"…On that note, I've officially decided to retire this summer. Mal and I talked about it, and I'll be able to come over whenever you or Min need help."
"Would you really? That's incredibly generous of you," Albus said. "I know I would feel better knowing she has you when summer ends. It hasn't even been a week, and I'm already pushing the limits of how long I can reasonably allow Filius to act in my stead. I was already worried about leaving her alone with twins… but now, I think it might actually be more difficult with just one."
Melinda nodded. "That concern pushed me over the edge. Since Mal and I will be fine with just his job to support us, we agreed that this was the right choice."
"Thank you. I'm not sure how well Min will be able to show it, but I think she will be grateful, too."
They turned their gazes toward their respective spouses. To their relief, Minerva had allowed herself to accept her brother's arms and cry into his shoulder. Like they did as small children in the church's manse their family called home, Malcolm climbed into the bed with his big sister. Only this time, she wasn't the one protecting him from a bad dream. Instead, he held her as she faced the real-life nightmare of coping with the loss of her son and her fears of failing her surviving daughter.
"You're my brave, brilliant big sister. I'll keep saying it because it's true. I was wrong to tell you otherwise last summer. You're still the person I look up to most. I know you're strong enough to get through this, and you deserve support now, especially as you get back on your feet. Mel and I want to be here for you."
"I can't do it."
"Yes, you can. We're going to help you, whether you think you 'deserve' it or not. This isn't just for my niece's sake; you matter, too. It sounds like you can't see it right now, but I want you to know that you're worth it, Min. No matter how hard it is or how long it takes, I promise not to give up on you."
Albus and Melinda let them quietly cuddle together until Poppy reappeared. The McGonagalls parted reluctantly but reassured Minerva that they would be back soon; after all, they were just a fire call away.
After another feed, pumping session, and changing of her postnatal knickers, Minerva was exhausted. She'd been exhausted for days, but she was sure she reached a new limit of being emotionally and physically drained.
"I hope you don't mind if I try to take a nap."
"Not at all, dear. Despite spending much time in bed, you've had very little sleep lately."
"I know that Ab is coming later, so if I do fall asleep, please still feel free to let him in. I'm not sure if I'll want you to wake me, but I do want you to be able to see him."
"Your rest is important. I can wait if necessary. I am sure Aberforth would understand."
"Well, I insist that you see your brother if you want. You need support, too, and Merlin knows I can't give much."
"Don't undersell yourself. Your presence is plenty supportive."
Minerva decided not to argue, even though she thought he was trying more to be reassuring than realistic about her recent companionship. "Whatever the case, please accept Ab's visit even if I'm asleep."
"If you're sure, then okay. I would quite like to see him for a bit."
The exhausted mother did indeed fall asleep, so when Aberforth arrived, Albus cracked open the door and brought a finger to his lips before allowing his brother entry. "She's finally managed a bit of shuteye, but it's okay to come in. We just need to speak quietly."
"Noted." The younger Dumbledore sidled inside. "Oh. When you said, 'she,' I assumed you meant the baby."
"Artemis sleeps and wakes all the time. Minerva, however, has struggled. He shut the door slowly so as not to make a sound. "We both have, but I don't have to cope with the same physical challenges."
Aberforth nodded. "How is she, with everything?"
"Let's sit." Albus silently Conjured two chairs near the incubators, and he sank heavily into one of the squashy purple armchairs. "I'm worried about her."
"As you ought to be."
"She blames herself for his death. I can't seem to convince her otherwise."
"I think you know what it's like to feel responsible for a loved one's death."
"But this is different. It isn't her fault. There's nothing she could've done differently. I, on the other hand…" He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Aberforth."
"I know. I didn't for a long time, but I know now."
Albus looked up. "I don't want Min to feel like I do about Ariana. It'll kill her. I—I'm so afraid that she won't make it through this."
"What do you mean, 'she won't make it'?" Aberforth asked seriously.
"I—I can't say." I can't tell him that I fear that she feels suicidal. "She's—she's struggling. She was doing well for a while, but…"
"…but this is a setback," Aberforth finished. "I take it your worries have to do with why she's been coming through my pub weekly."
Albus nodded.
"She's welcome to use my fireplace to get to her Healer appointments as often and for as long as she needs to."
"Thank you. I hope she will continue to see him—and soon. We were able to get him to come here a couple of times when Poppy admitted her, but… naturally, she missed the one right after she gave birth. We… we simply couldn't face anyone. I'm sorry that you came over here and waited only to be shooed away by Poppy."
"You lost your son, Albus. Normally, I'd be pleasantly surprised to hear you apologize, but this isn't the time." He paused for a moment and then said, "I take it Fawkes is shielding him from view."
It was hard enough sometimes simply to have their deceased child in the room, lying in preservation to await a proper funeral; seeing his lifeless body was more than they wished to handle. The phoenix used his large wingspan to conceal much of the tank that housed Apollo whenever someone wasn't at his side. He let down his wings to allow Aberforth to look.
"This is—this is your nephew. Apollo."
"Apollo," Aberforth repeated. "Your time here was too short, little one."
"Much too short," Albus echoed.
"Do you plan to hold a funeral?"
Albus sniffed. "Yes."
"If you need help making arrangements, I'm here."
"I appreciate that." How the hell are we going to do this? A parent shouldn't have to bury their own child—certainly not their newborn. Tears drenched his beard before he even realized how hard he was crying. Albus was certain that he'd never wept like this in front of his brother, even for Ariana. I was numb then. Merlin, I must have looked callous—callous, cold, and cruel. No wonder Ab punched me in public if I couldn't even cry for our sister.
"Why don't you introduce me to his sister?" Aberforth interjected softly.
Albus bobbed his head up and down. "Of course."
Fawkes returned to his post by Apollo as the two brothers migrated toward Artemis. They quietly observed the baby girl, and with permission, the younger Dumbledore cautiously reached inside to stroke her cheek.
"She's little, too," Aberforth said. "I suppose that's how it is when they arrive early."
"Yes. She's doing well, though. Poppy thinks she might be able to come out for longer stretches soon."
"That's good." He removed his hand and glanced at the nameplate affixed to the exterior of the incubator. "Albus—you named her—" His gruff features softened as his bright blue eyes began to shimmer.
"Minerva's idea," he said quietly. "She lost her youngest sibling, too—her brother, in the last war. We wanted to honor our late siblings. I—I've never stopped thinking about Ariana, you know. I'll never let go of my regret."
Aberforth did something that he hadn't done in nearly a century: he hugged his brother. "My only niece named after my only sister."
"I hope I can do right by her as her father. I know was a horrible brother, especially when you two needed me most."
"I can admit you're not the same person you were at seventeen. Or even seventy. And it seems I can thank my sister-in-law for bringing my brother back." Aberforth pulled away and locked eyes with Albus. "You can bring her back from this."
"That's kind of you to say. I am not always so sure."
"Did you think I wouldn't remind you not to fuck it up? Merlin knows you can be an arrogant arsehole and impose what you think is best upon them—their actual needs be damned. You better not do that to my niece—or her mother."
"They're the loves of my life. It's not all about me anymore." Albus pulled his brother back in. "I love you, too, Ab. I'm sorry I didn't know how to love for so long."
Over the next few days, the new parents finally had the capacity to think about Apollo's funeral. Minerva couldn't bear even to look at the catalogs of tiny caskets, and Albus didn't find it much easier. Although it was less traditional in the wizarding world, they chose cremation instead. ("He'll be at home with us, where he belongs," Albus assured Minerva.)
Festive Filius became Funerary Filius, and despite the uncertainty of the specific date, the family and friends made the effort to join the grieving parents in the hospital room on Burning Day. While witches and wizards typically performed cremations with a special version of Incendio, Albus and Minerva felt it was only appropriate for Apollo to go by way of phoenix flame. Fawkes seemed to believe that himself, as he had clearly bonded to the babies and guarded the departed boy. He somehow managed to time his rebirth to early one morning, when all of the intended guests would be able to attend.
Although Minerva was now able to stand for brief stints, she used the wheelchair for the ceremony, which was temporarily widened so that Albus could sit with her. Beside them, Malcolm, Melinda, and Isobel huddled together near Minerva, and Aberforth stood next to his brother. Behind them, the three aunties tightly held hands, with Pomona in the middle, flanked by her taller friends. Filius led the ritual from atop a stool in front; he needed to pause multiple times to hold back his tears.
"Apollo Robert McGonagall, may your soul rest in peace. These funerary flames will guide you safely to the afterlife," Filius recited.
Normally, the ceremonial leader would cast a spell at this point. Instead, in a move that made him a bit nervous, he held onto the bird perched by Apollo. Not more than thirty seconds later, Fawkes disappeared into a bright red and gold fire. When the flames died down, what remained in their place were a phoenix feather, pile of ashes, and the reborn bird.
With one more spell, Filius directed the ashes into an ornate urn and handed it to Minerva. "As his spirit rests, may you, too, find peace."
Clutching the urn with both hands, Minerva bowed her head and wept. Albus had one arm around her and the other hand in her lap the whole time, but now he moved it to hold the urn, too. As he began to weep, he rested his head on his wife's shoulder, and to his surprise, he felt a hand on his.
Thank you, Aberforth. Merlin, I'd forgotten how it feels to be part of a family, he thought. And thank you, Fawkes. You truly have taken up the protector role to the jellybeans as I had asked at the very start.
Author's Note: Thank you again for reading! As always, I appreciate your messages, reviews, follows, and favorites. My apologies for the delay—Spring Term has just started here, and naturally, there's much to be done. (Not to mention, it can be quite difficult to write sad chapters…)