A/N: This is the final chapter of the story. Hopefully you enjoy it! Feel free to let me know what you think.
The memories you have are a patchwork quilt
Full of people drowning in fear and guilt.
The fragments you own are water-marked and torn,
And detail occurrences that should never have been borne.
Your last recollection is a familiar face,
And your pain and betrayal were buried in lace.
"That," Zena observes, looking over Magnus' shoulder suspiciously, "is not our Herbology homework."
"Oh, well spotted," he replies sarcastically. "I wasn't sure if I needed to be more discreet to prevent a Troll from catching on, but you have thankfully confirmed that that is not the case."
Zena rolls her eyes. "I don't need your back talk, Mag. I just want to know what you're doing, alright?"
"I'm looking through the death records of the final battle. I think you might've been onto something when you mentioned revenge. Think about it: someone's parents or siblings or friends were killed. Maybe Haven was the one to kill them, even. That person might want revenge. And if they don't, then maybe someone used Polyjuice. You said yourself that the voice was familiar; I'm starting to think that this is either a revenge killing, or disguised as a revenge killing, which might narrow down our culprits."
Zena sits down beside him. "And have you had any luck so far?"
"Not really," he mutters. "A lot of people died during the final battle. Here, look." He shoves his parchment at her, and she peruses the list of names he's compiled. "These are just the people who died during the battle, and no one really knows who killed whom because battles are absolute chaos."
"Alright," Zena says patiently. "But... look," she points to the names Albus Dumbledore, and Aries Black, and Violet Evans, among others, "you don't need these names on there. They were on Haven's side of the war. She wouldn't have killed them because they'd've been helping her. I'm sure they're not the only ones who don't belong on the list just because of that. Here, I'll help you sort through the names so that we're only doing Death Eaters."
They spend several hours going through the names of the dead, adding some to their list and bypassing others. By the time they have finished compiling their catalog, it is dinnertime. Zena and Magnus make their way down from the library to the Great Hall, where they both sit at the Hufflepuff table.
"Why is Voldemort on this list?" Zena hisses.
"I was just being thorough. I'm sure there're plenty of people who'd have wanted revenge on Haven for having killed their mascot."
"I thought we'd ruled out the actual Death Eaters, but whatever. Avery," she mutters, reading down Magnus' side of the list, "Carrow, Carrow, by the way, Mag, your handwriting is terrible. Crabbe, Crouch, Dolohov, blah, blah, blah, wait."
Magnus looks up at her curiously. "Yes? I can barely contain my anticipation, Zeen."
Zena rolls her eyes at him. "Who is Lazarus Warrington?"
"Dunno," Magnus shrugs. Zena glares at him. "Look, Zeen, I really have no clue who this Lazarus fellow is, alright? We'll go back to the Library and look in the Pure-blood Registry or something, and then I'll be able to tell you. Merlin, can you stop looking at me like you want to murder me?"
"Sorry," she says, looking down at her food and pushing it around with her fork. "I just want to find out who did it so that this can all be over with, you know? I don't mean to be so snappy, Mag. You don't deserve it, not least because you've been helping me."
Magnus sighs. "Look, Zena. I get it. Or, I understand that this is frustrating. I'm trying to help, but you keep jumping down my throat about everything and that makes my job harder. Just… try to cut me some slack here, okay? Relax a little. She's been dead for sixteen years and no one's figured out who killed her. Waiting a little bit longer isn't going to change anything."
"Okay. Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, again. I've been a right arse this past week, and you've been very patient with me."
"Just call me Helga Hufflepuff."
Zena snorts. "Hufflepuff was not a patient person. You might've noticed that patience is not one of the things the Sorting Hat mentions in its songs when my House comes up. But seriously, Magnus, you're a really good friend."
"Thanks," he says, ducking his head in embarrassment.
"Lazarus Warrington. Where are you?" Magnus murmurs, running his finger down the names in the Pure-blood Registry. "Mmmm... Umbridge, Volant, Wallis, Warner, Warrington. Alessio, Caspian, Cassius, Dion, Flora, Jasper, Lazarus! Alright, so I tap my wand like… so…" he trails off, watching as the list of names disappears and the ink rewrites itself into a short biography about Lazarus Warrington.
"Former Death Eater," Zena reads aloud. "First-born son to Alessio Warrington and Salis Flint. Older brother to Cassius Warrington. Hold up, Cassius was one of her friends. And he was the first person I remembered after meeting. D'you think...?"
"It's certainly possible. But that doesn't answer the question about why."
"So - hear me out - what if we asked him?"
"Excuse me?" Magnus looks at her in disbelief. "Can you repeat that? I thought I heard you say what if we asked him, but I know you didn't really say that, because that would be the most imbecilic idea you've ever had!"
Zena offers him a weak smile. "No. That's what I said. You heard me right."
"Are you daft? You're bloody crazy! You want to ask the person we suspect might be responsible for Haven's death - your death, because like it or not, you share the same soul, and you have her memories - if he murdered her, and if he did, you want to ask him why?"
"Er. Yes. That - that was my plan." She eyes him carefully. "I take it you're not a fan?"
"Not a -" he scoffs, and buries his face in his arms. "Not a fan!" he finishes, his voice muffled by the sleeves of his robes. His shoulders start shaking, and then he sits up straight, laughing quietly and shaking his head like he thinks the world's gone mad. "I'm best friends with a lunatic!" he whispers wonderingly. "I can't believe it. How did I not realise this before?"
"Excuse you, I am not a lunatic. And even if I was, what does that make you, for being friends with me?" Zena asks scathingly.
Magnus raises his eyes to the ceiling like he's praying for something. No doubt either mercy and patience would be equally appreciated.
"Soooo," Zena drawls, sprawling across the length of Magnus' bed and ignoring the scowl he shoots at her. "What would be the best way to get in contact with someone you suspect has commited murder?"
"You don't," he replies flatly.
"But if you're a lunatic - your words, not mine - how would you go about it?"
"You could try writing a letter," he grumbles. "But don't accuse him of murder in the letter. Otherwise, he might try to kill you if he even agrees to meet with you in the first place."
"You're so smart, Mag," Zena tells him. "I'll write the letter, and you can proofread it. Then we'll send it to him and wait."
"This is a terrible idea." He looks at her. "Are you sure I can't talk you out of it?"
"Can you confirm our suspicions another way?" she asks archly.
"No," he frowns. "Fine. You write the damn thing, and I'll edit it.
Mr Warrington,
I'm not certain if you remember 31 December, 2004, but I do. It was dark outside; there was snow lining the streets; the ground was wet. I was wearing a red coat, and when you bumped into me, you were wearing what I now know was a Slytherin scarf. I recognised you almost right away. I knew your name, and I knew other things about you; I was convinced that we'd known each other for five years already, though I was only seven at the time. I remember that you had no idea who I was, and you left almost immediately after apologising for not watching where you were going.
The reason I'm writing to you now is that I have been reliably informed that I am a reincarnated soul. I want to know if you can help me figure this out; after all, you are the first person, place, or thing that I remembered.
If you are able to find the time, I would like to speak with you about our shared past. I am available to meet at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade on any weekend that fits your schedule. Whether or not you are able to find time to meet, I would appreciate continued correspondence with you.
Sincerely,
Zena Sinclair
Miss Sinclair,
I must admit that it is a surprise to hear from you.
Now that you mention that night, I do have a vague recollection of it, though I will be the first to admit that I am oblivious enough that - while I do not make a habit of it - bumping into small children in Muggle London is an unfortunately common occurrence. However, I suppose that bumping into you is certainly more memorable than all the rest; after all, none of those other poor children I've unintentionally body slammed ever called me by my name without my introducing myself.
If you wish, I have a day off within the next fortnight; we can meet then at a venue of your choosing.
Sincerely,
Cassius Warrington
Mr Warrington,
Thank you for your time. How does a Saturday sound? Perhaps we might meet at Three Broomsticks at around one o' clock in the afternoon?
Sincerely,
Zena Sinclair
Miss Sinclair,
I will see you at the Three Broomsticks at one o' clock this coming Saturday.
Cassius Warrington
"I don't like this," Magnus tells her, biting his lip anxiously.
"Everything will be fine. We're meeting in a public place, so even if he does get angry, he wouldn't dare do anything to me. Even Pure-bloods can't get away with murder in broad daylight."
"They used to be able to," he mutters petulantly.
"Yeah, back in the year nine-hundred, maybe," she snorts. "I'll be fine, Mag. Besides, you'll be at the next table over, so if anything does happen - which it won't - you'll be able to deal with it in whatever way you see fit."
Magnus expels a put-upon sigh. "I'm just worried about you, Zeen. You're acting like a Gryffindor right now."
"Well," Zena tells him, "she was a Gryffindor, once upon a time. This wise man once said that she and I have the same soul, and we share her memories. Why shouldn't I act a little bit Gryffindor every now and then?"
"I hate it when you use my words against me," Magnus says sulkily.
"Well maybe you should just stop talking so you aren't giving me ammunition, then," she teases. He doesn't smile. "Magnus." She takes his hand and holds it between her own. "Everything will be okay. You don't need to worry so much, alright?"
He takes a shaky breath. "Okay."
"Miss Sinclair?" a familiar voice asks.
Zena stands up from her bench to face Cassius Warrington. He doesn't look as though he's aged a day since she saw him that New Years Eve. She extends her hand, and when he shakes it, his palm is dry and warm, and his fingers are a comfortable weight against the dorsal side where they brush just beneath her knuckles.
"Please, Mr Warrington, call me Zena. I'm not used to all this formal drudgery."
He gives her an amused smile. "Etiquette is hardly difficult work."
"It is if you only grow up with the most basic manners required," she disagrees.
"And what might those be?"
"Please and thank you. Eye contact when someone's speaking to you. No gossiping. Shaking hands upon meeting someone."
Cassius laughs. "Well, Zena, since formality is so offensive to your delicate sensibilities, you may call me Cassius."
"That's good," Zena nods. "I already thought of you as Cassius, and I'd've been bound to slip up at some point."
"I like you," he tells her. "Now, would you like anything to eat or drink?"
"Oh, I've already ordered something. If you'd like something, though, feel free to order whatever. My treat."
Cassius looks offended. "I can't let you do that."
"It's got nothing to do with letting me do anything. I insist on paying for your food and drink. It's the least I can do; after all, you're spending a day off here, of all places, and it only seems fair that I pay, given that I plan on asking you some rather uncomfortable questions soon enough."
"You're quite blunt, aren't you? Very well. I'll accept your offer, but you must let me pay you back in some way."
Zena gives him a scrutinizing look. "I wouldn't worry about repayment, Cassius. I've got everything all sorted out."
Cassius eyes her suspiciously; no doubt he can tell that there's a double meaning underlying her words, but she is fairly certain that he doesn't know what it is quite yet.
They speak about mundane things while waiting for their food to arrive, and Cassius sips sedately at his Firewhisky, seeming to really enjoy it, though Zena has heard that in the grand scheme of whiskys, there are others that are far more enjoyable. She says as much to Cassius, who shrugs delicately and says: "That's true enough, but those other whiskys don't allow you to breathe fire," before exhaling a ring of fire through the circle of his mouth.
She waits until Cassius seems relaxed to say anything, and she looks over to catch Magnus' eye before she does; she doesn't want him to be caught off guard, just in case anything happens. "I mentioned in my letter that I wanted to speak about our shared past. Unfortunately, I don't think you'll really enjoy the direction of our conversation."
Cassius sighs heavily and leans back in his seat. "You forget that I was a Slytherin when I went to Hogwarts. I can read between the lines. I've had some suspicions about where this conversation's going to go."
Zena inspects him closely; he doesn't look relaxed, but neither does he look as though he's about to run. "I wanted to talk about Haven Potter."
He smiles sadly. "You mean you want to know if I killed her."
She nods.
Cassius sighs again and leans forward to place his forearms on the table. "I loved Haven. She was almost like a sister to me; they all were, though. She had a way with people, you know? She collected them, enticed them, drew them in like a Siren, but when she caught them she didn't kill them. She loved them, and they loved her."
"That doesn't answer the question," Zena observes gently.
"I'm getting there." He looks down at his hands and laces his fingers together. "I had an older brother, you know."
"Lazarus Warrington," Zena agrees.
"Lazarus," he nods; his voice is heavy, his words syrupy and slow, like they're drowning in grief. "Our parents died during the first war. They were Death Eaters, and they were killed in the same confrontation that Fabian and Gideon Prewett died in. I was around five at the time, and Lazarus had just taken his OWLs. He raised me; he was my brother and my father.
"He took his NEWTs the year I started Hogwarts, and he went out and got himself a job, and no matter how busy he was, he always made time for me. He joined the Death Eaters when Voldemort came back, but he never tried to get me to join up with him. He was at Hogwarts for the final battle. A lot of people died, and many of them were my friends or had been my friends at one point, but the death that hit me the hardest was Laz's.
"I didn't know at the time, but it was Haven who killed him. I know she didn't do it on purpose; he was just another casualty of war. That's the way war works, you know: you fight, and you either make it out alive and broken or you die. I know that. I knew it then, too, but somehow it's so much harder to accept when it's someone you love who's been killed, and it's harder when it's someone you love who's killed them.
"So I found out it was Haven. I don't even remember how I figured it out, but when I did, I was so furious that I just went to her house. I was only going to talk to her, but when I saw her, she was just sitting there, reading a book, and. And, well, I didn't get a chance to say anything because at that moment I hated her enough to kill her."
"Don't you regret it?" Zena wonders.
"Of course I do!" Cassius hisses, swiping viciously at the dampness beneath his eyes. "I loved her and I killed her! Of course I regret it." He takes a deep breath, and says, his voice sluggish with sorrow and exhaustion: "How could I not?"
"Why didn't you ever come forward and admit to it?"
Cassius' laugh comes out slightly hysterically. "Because I'm a coward. Because no one ever asked. Because my turning myself in doesn't bring her back. Because I regret it, and living with the regret feels like more of a punishment than the Kiss could ever be, and I deserve to be punished. Take your pick; they're all true."
"Don't you think she deserves justice?"
"She deserves to be alive," he says harshly.
"That's not possible. I'm the next best thing, Cassius. I share her soul. I can access her memories. I remember her dying, and she died while she was grieving, Cass. Don't you think she deserves some peace?"
Cassius stands up and buttons his coat. "You're right. She does deserve peace." He turns and walks away, and Zena can only watch as the door to the Three Broomsticks shuts him out.
"So did he do it?" Magnus asks, sliding into the place Cassius had been sitting.
"Yeah," Zena says.
"And you just let him go?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Cassius Warrington Turns Himself in for the Murder of Haven Potter!
Yesterday, war hero Cassius Warrington turned up at the Ministry for Magic claiming that he was responsible for the death and disappearance of Haven Potter - the Safe Haven - back in 1997. He has willingly submitted himself to investigation and a trial under Veritaserum. Court proceedings will begin within the week… cont. page 13
Cassius Warrington Pleads Guilty!
In a preliminary trial yesterday evening, Cassius Warrington, who has claimed responsibility for the death of Haven Potter, pleaded guilty for second degree murder… cont. page 3
Cassius Warrington Convicted!
The Wizengamot has declared that Cassius Warrington, the alleged murderer of Haven Potter, has been given a life sentence in Azkaban. Warrington claims that this punishment is "No less than I deserve"... cont. page 7