AN 1: So, here we are, at possibly the longest chapter in this whole book. Now, I do not own Harry Potter or Lion King, nor do I have the rights to the song Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran, which I know is slightly older than the year in which these events take place, but as soon as I heard this song I knew it had to be here. You will have noticed that I have changed some of the lyrics to match what is going on to make sense, and please remember that the Oracle is God and that even though Sian has siblings, she is the only one singing this song because she was closer to her mother than the rest of her siblings were. So, enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 34
The White Tomb
KIARA
All lessons were suspended, all examinations were postponed. Some students were hurried away from Dragon Mort by their parents over the next couple of days - Perry Party was gone before breakfast on the morning following Crighton's death and Zhi Smith was escorted from the castle by her haughty-looking father. Zara Finn, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany her father home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when he agreed that she could remain for the funeral. He had difficulty finding a bed in Dragsmeade; Zara told Chrissie and I, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Crighton.
The day after Crighton had died, Grandmother Sarabi arrived with Joey and his family in their car, which he had parked on the outskirts of Dragsmeade village, and the four of them walked together to the school, where they were let in at once. My parents and I went to greet them, and in Grandmother Sarabi's arms I saw a little bundle of blankets, with a small tuft of tawny hair poking out. I stood there, not knowing what to do, as Grandmother Sarabi passed Kion into my mother's arms, who looked at me and said, "Kiara, come and meet your brother."
I went over to them slowly, and looked down into the blanket, and I was faced with a face that I had seen only in photographs: a cute baby face with dark, peachy skin, a long nose, wide mouth, and his almond-shaped eyes which were small and a light amber colour, and as soon as he saw me he looked at me curiously, then he started giggling and began squirming in his blanket as he tried to remove his arms so that he could reach me.
I laughed along with my parents and Grandmother Sarabi. I looked at my parents and asked, "Can I hold him?" They nodded at once and I held out my arms, into which Mum placed him in gently. I held him in my arms, and he smiled a toothless smile, reaching up a small, pudgy hand to touch my cheek. I smiled and laughed a little, kissing him gently on the forehead.
"Hi, Kion," I said, tears of joy spilling down my cheeks, "I'm your sister, Kiara, and I'm going to be the best sister I can be for you, and make sure that you are well looked after, no matter what happens to our parents, that I can assure you."
This arrival caused quite a commotion as many people came to look at what was going on. I looked at my parents, who both were happy to let Kion be introduced to the world, so I said, "Everyone, meet my brother, Kion." At that, those closest gathered round to look at him, including some teachers, who were all greeted with one glimpse of happiness in a great time of sadness.
Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the Forest. I watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black-haired man descended the carriage steps and threw himself into the waiting Mina's arms. Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic herself and Mr Dawson, was being accommodated within the castle. I was diligently avoiding contact with any of them (apart from Mr Dawson, of course, with whom I always had a second to spare for); I was sure that, sooner or later, I would be asked again to account for Crighton's last excursion from Dragon Mort.
Chris, Chrissie and I were spending all of our time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock us; I could imagine how it would have been if Crighton had not died, and we had had this time together at the very end of the year, with the pressure of homework lifted ... and hour by hour, I put off saying the think I knew I must say, doing what I knew it was right to do, because it was too hard to forgo my best source of comfort. There were times when Chris and I would look at each other, and I was sure he knew what I was thinking, but he didn't say anything, for which I was grateful.
Now, I know what you are all thinking, my dear readers: where is Sian in all of this? Well ... Chris, Chrissie and I rarely saw her in those days, because she was helping her father with the funeral arrangements, and after that we don't know where she went, because she stayed away from us for hours at a time. The only times we did see her were at meal times, where she ate what she could, even though the portions she did have were small, and in the common room in the evenings, where she would sit apart from the rest of us, doing nothing, just staring out of a window, ignoring the looks of pity sent her way, refusing company, even mine, Chris and Chrissie's! Sian's behaviour concerned us and the rest of her siblings, and it wasn't hard to imagine why.
Sian never smiled in those days: a saddened, dejected look had settled itself upon her features, never moving. If she had cried, I'm sure she would have, but her tears were saved for the night. I knew this because, the night after Crighton had died, I woke up and heard the sounds of soft sobbing coming from Sian's bed. I didn't go over to her, neither did any of her sisters, for we all knew that Sian wouldn't want us to see her in that state, but that didn't stop my heart breaking for her. I suspected that her tears were due to her nightmares, for I always saw that she had bags under her eyes the next morning, which made me think that she wasn't sleeping well. Another alarming thing that Sian did was that she had started tying her hair back, and instead of arranging it in the curls so like her mother's, Sian let it stay in its natural state, which was wavy, and whenever the wind would blow her hair in her face, or a stray lock would fall accidently, Sian would always brush it back quickly, wanting nothing to touch her face. She also walked slower and instead of walking tall and proud, her shoulders were slumped and she would always look at the ground, ignoring everyone around her.
Sian never spoke to us during those days, which I know you've all figured out, but the only time she spoke to me on her own was the day after her mother died, because she wanted to know what had happened to her mother. I understood why Sian would ask this, but it was too soon for her to know; she wasn't coping with her mother's death and I didn't want to give her nightmares. I told Sian this in the most delicate way possible. I was afraid that she would be angry with me, but to my relief, she seemed to agree. Sian then flashed me a very brief smile and moved away. My heart went out to her again, but I knew that I was doing the right thing; when the time was right, she would know.
Anyhoo, the only other time Chris, Chrissie and I saw Sian was when she would come with us to visit the hospital wing twice a day: Nikita had been discharged, but Sam remained under Matron's care. Her scars were as bad as ever; in truth, she now bore a distinct resemblance to Crazy-Head Grumpy, though thankfully with just her two normal eyes and both legs, but in personality she seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have changed was that she now had a great liking for very rare steaks.
" ... so eet ees lucky she is marrying me," said Ferdinand happily, plumping up Sam's pillows, "because ze British overcook their meat, I 'ave always said this."
"I suppose I'm just going to have to aceept that she really is going to marry him," sighed Chris later that evening, the evening before Crighton's funeral, as he, Sian, Chrissie and I sat beside the open window of the Lion-Heart common room, looking out over the twilit grounds.
"He's not that bad," I said. "Ugly, though," I added hastily, as Chris raised his eyebrows, and he let out a reluctant chuckle.
"Well, I suppose if Sian can stand it, I can."
"Anyone else we know died?" Chrissie asked Sian suddenly, who was perusing the Evening Squabbler.
Sian winced at the forced toughness in her voice.
"No," she said reprovingly in a voice void of emotion, folding up the newspaper. "They're still looking for Triphorm, but no sign ..."
"Of course there isn't," I said, becoming angry again, as I did every time the subject cropped up. "They won't find Triphorm 'til they find Zira, and seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time ..."
I huffed in annoyance, shaking my head bitterly. I wanted to find Triphorm and make her pay for what she had done to Crighton, but I would probably be dead before I could raise my wand if I did find Triphorm. I was then brought out of my thoughts by Sian, who leaned forwards towards me with a most Sian-ish look on her face.
"Kiara, I found something out this morning, in the library ..."
"O.B.W.?" I said, sitting up straight.
I did not feel the way I had so often felt before, excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; I simply knew that the task of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before I could move a little further along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of me, the path that Crighton and I had set out upon together, and which I now knew I would have to journey alone. There might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Zira could be killed. I kept reciting their names to myself, as if though by listing them I could bring them within reach: "the locket ... the cup ... the snake ... something of Lion-Heart's or Raven-Wings' ... the locket ... the cup ... the snake ... something of Lion-Heart's or Raven-Wings' ..."
This mantra seemed to pulse through my mind as I fell asleep at night, and my dreams were thick with cups, lockets and mysterious objects that I could not quite reach, though Crighton helpfully offered me a rope ladder that turned to snakes the moment I began to climb ...
I had shown Chris and Sian the note inside the locket the morning after Crighton's death, and although she had not immediately recognised the initials as belonging to some obscure wizard about whom she had been reading, this was why she had been rushing off to the library in the afternoons, a little more often than was strictly necessary for somebody who had no homework to do.
"No," she said sadly, "I've been trying, Kiara, but I haven't found anything ... there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials - Olga Beatrice White ... Owen 'Bloodstain' Winters ... but they don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note, the person who stole the Horcrux knew Zira, and I can't find a shred of evidence that White or Bloodstain ever had anything to do with her ... no, actually, it's about ... well, Triphorm."
She looked more nervous even saying the name again.
"What about her?" I asked heavily, slumping back in my chair.
"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Princess business," she said tentatively.
"D'you have to rub it in, Sian? How d'you think I feel about that now?"
"No - no - Kiara, I didn't mean that!" said Sian hastily, looking around to check that we were not being overheard. "It's just that I was right about Eleanor Princess once owning the book. You see ... she was Triphorm's mother!"
"I thought she wasn't much of a looker," said Chris. Sian ignored him.
"I was looking through the rest of the old Squabblers and there was a tiny announcement about Eleanor Princess marrying a man called Steven Triphorm, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to a - "
" - murderer," I spat.
"Well ... yes," said Sian, wincing at my tone. "So ... I was sort of right. Triphorm must have been proud of being 'half a Princess', you see? Steven Triphorm was a Muggle from what it said in the Squabbler."
"Yeah, that fits," I said. "She'd play up the pure-blood side so she could get in with Narissa Malty and the rest of them ... She's just like Zira. One part witch, one part Muggle ... ashamed of her parentage, trying to make herself feared using the Dark Arts, gave herself an impressive name - Lady Zira - the Half-Blood Princess - how could Crighton have missed - ?"
I broke off, looking out of the window. I could not stop myself dwelling upon Crighton's inexcusable trust in Triphorm ... but as Sian had just inadvertently reminded me, I, Kiara, had been taken in just the same ... in spite of the increased nastiness of those scribbled spells, I had refused to believe ill of the girl who had been so clever, who had helped me so much ...
Helped me ... it was almost an unendurable thought, now ...
"I still don't get why she didn't turn you in for using that book," said Chrissie. "She must've known where you were getting it all from."
"She knew," I said bitterly. "She knew when I used Sectumsempra. She didn't really need Legilimency ... she might even have known before then, with Beadu talking about how brilliant I was at Potions ... Shouldn't have left her old book in the bottom of that cupboard, should she?"
"But why didn't she turn you in?"
"I don't think she wanted to associate herself with that book," said Sian. "I don't think Ma would have liked it very much if she'd known. And even if Triphorm pretended it hadn't been hers, Beadu would have recognised her handwriting at once. Anyway, the book was left in Triphorm's old classroom, and I'll bet Ma knew her mother was called 'Princess'."
"I should've shown the book to Crighton," I said. "All that time she was showing me how Zira was evil even when she was at school, and I had proof Triphorm was, too - "
"'Evil' is a strong word," said Sian quietly.
"You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!"
"I'm trying to say, Kiara, that you're putting too much blame on yourself. I thought the Princess seemed to have a nasty sense of humour, but I would never have guessed she was a potential killer ..."
"None of us could've guessed ... you know," said Chrissie.
Chris sighed deeply. He then turned to Sian and asked her, "Does Max know? Is he coming?"
"Yes," said Sian. "The night Ma died, I asked Professor Darbus to notify Professor McGonagall - the Headmistress of Hogwarts, you know - to ask her to tell Max what happened. This morning, she approached me and told me that Max will be attending the funeral tomorrow, accompanied by someone from Hogwarts and he will be sat apart from the rest of us, so that's happening.
Silence fell between us, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but I was sure that they, like me, were thinking about the following morning, when Crighton's body would be laid to rest. I had never attended a funeral before that point; there had been no body to bury when Pumbaa had died. I did not know what to expect and I was a little worried about what I would see, about how I would feel. I wondered whether Crighton's death would be real to me once the funeral was over. Though I had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm me, there were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about anything else in the whole castle, I still found it difficult to believe that Crighton had really gone. Admittedly I had not, as I had with Pumbaa, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Crighton would come back ... I felt in my pocket for the chain of the fake Horcrux, which I now carried with me everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained still to do.
I rose early to pack the next day; the Dragon Mort Subs would be leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs I found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes (the Dawsons had all been given black ones ordered by their father) and no one seemed very hungry. Professor Darbus had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Mina's chair was deserted too: I thought that perhaps she had not been able to face breakfast; but Triphorm's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rowena Scrimwazz. I avoided the yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; I had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimwazz was looking for me. Among Scrimwazz's entourage I spotted the brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Perdy Fang. Chrissie gave no sign that she was aware of Perdy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom; Sian, on the other hand, kept shooting glares at her cousin, shaking her head every time.
Over at the Snake-Eyes table, Keziah was sitting alone, looking sad, and I guessed it wasn't just about Crighton: you see, the day after Crighton died, Keziah came to me and asked me what her cousin's involvement had been in every detail. I told her all that I had heard and observed from that night, and when I was done Keziah said that she hoped that wherever her cousin was now that she was safe. And further down the Snake-Eyes table Crate and Gabber were muttering together. Hulking girls though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malty between them, bossing them around. I had not spared Malty much thought. My animosity was all for Triphorm, but I had not forgotten the fear in Malty's eyes on that Tower top, nor the fact that she had lowered her wand before the other Love Destroyers arrived. I did not believe that Malty would have killed Crighton. I despised Malty still for her infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with my dislike. Where, I wondered, was Malty now, and what was Zira making her do under threat of killing her and her parents?
My thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Chris. Professor Darbus had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.
"It is nearly time," she said. "The Dawsons will wait here with their father and follow on last. The rest of you will please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Lion-Hearts, after me."
Everyone except the Dawsons filed out from behind their benches in near silence. I glimpsed Beadu at the head of the Snake-Eyes column, wearing magnificent emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. I had never seen Spud, Head of the Badger-Stripes, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on his hat, and when we reached the Entrance Hall, we found Sir Pincer standing beside Match, both of them in black suits, but Sir Pincer's was crisp and clean, whereas Matchstick's was ancient and reeked of mothballs.
We were heading, as I saw when I stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the river. The warmth of the sun caressed my face as we followed Professor Darbus in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table, standing at the front, all chairs facing it, with two lily blossom trees standing on either side of it, and though there was no wind, the leaves seemed to blow in a rhythmic rippling effect. It was a beautiful sight to behold, along with it being a most beautiful summer's day.
An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs (the ones at the front were reserved for the Dawsons): shabby and smart, old and young. Most I did not recognise, but there were a few that I did, including members of the Order of the Centaur: Joey, his wife and child, Kopa, Kara Shackles, Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron and Hermione Weasley, Crazy-Head Grumpy, Todd, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Timon Meers, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, my parents and Grandmother Sarabi, who was holding Kion in her arms as my parents were holding hands, Sam supported by Ferdinand followed by Tanya and Geri, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Then there was Monsieur Legrand, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on his own, Dizra, the Landlady of the Witching Service, Aubrey Figgs, my Squib neighbour, the bass player from the wizarding group The Jinxters, Sir Waldin, of the robe shop in Brickabon Alley, and some people whom I merely knew by sight, such as the barmaid of the Dragon's Eyes. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.
I sat next to my parents at the end of the third row beside the river. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for the three of them, I saw Nikita being helped into the seat next to me by Lincoln, with Keziah bringing up the rear. They alone of all the CA, along with Kestrel, had responded to Chris' summons the night Crighton died, and I knew why: they were the ones who had missed the CA most ... probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting. I cast them each a smile, silently thanking them. They understood and nodded.
Cornelia Sweets sat opposite us, her expression miserable, twirling her plum witch's hat as usual; I next recognised Peter Meter, who, I was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in his taloned hand; and then, with a worse jolt of fury, Democritus Umber, an unconvincing expression of grief upon his toadlike face, a little black fez set atop his iron-coloured curls. At the sight of the centaur Fauna, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, he gave a start and hurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.
The staff were seated at last. I could see Scrimwazz looking grave and dignified in the second row with Professor Darbus. I wondered whether Scrimwazz or any of these people were really sorry that Crighton was dead. But then I heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and I forgot my dislike of the Ministry in looking around for the source of it. I was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.
"In there," said Lincoln, pointing to the river.
And I saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding me horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language I did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair floating all around them. The music made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As I looked down into the wild faces of the singers I had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Crighton's passing. Then Grandmother Sarabi patted me on the shoulder. I looked up at her. She nodded to the end of the aisle and I looked round.
Mina was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. She was crying quite silently, her face gleaming with tears, and in her arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with silver stars, was what I knew to be Crighton's body. A sharp pain rose in my throat at this sight: for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Crighton's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Lincoln, Keziah and Nikita were all crying at the sight.
We could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Mina seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now she retreated down the aisle, blowing her nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalised looks from some, including, I saw, Democritus Umber ... but I knew that Crighton would not have cared. I tried to make a friendly gesture to Mina as she passed, but Mina's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder she could see where she was going. I glanced at the back row to which Mina was heading and I realised what was guiding her, for there, dressed in a jacket and skirt each the size of a small marquee, was the giantess Harlow, her great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Mina sat down next to her half-sister and Harlow patted Mina hard on the head, so that her chair legs sank into the ground. I had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then I saw a figure at the back I had never seen before walking down the aisle, and everyone's attention was drawn to him.
The boy looked at least fourteen or fifteen. He was quite tall, had short, curly brown hair, a long face, freckles and grey-blue eyes, and in one hand he was carrying a lily. As he came closer, I thought that he looked familiar, and as I took in more of him I saw, with a shocking revelation, that he had the same hair and eyes as Mr Dawson. This, I knew, was Max, the youngest Dawson brother.
When he got to the table where his mother's body lay, he seemed to be doing something, but I couldn't see what. As he was doing whatever it was he was doing, the trees on either side of the table started to shed by the bark, their pieces floating in the air, hovering above the table. My attention was then drawn back to Max, who had moved to kiss his mother on her forehead; looking to where he stood, I saw that just over the tip of the purple velvet was the head of the lily, meaning he must have put it in between her arms. Max then moved away from the table, but instead of sitting in the front row, he went to sit at the back next to a witch from Hogwarts.
Then came the rest of the Dawsons, starting with the youngest, each of them holding a lily, and when they reached the table they did what Max had done: placed the lily in their mother's arms and kissed her on the place where her forehead was. before sitting in the front row. Last to come down was Mr Dawson, one arm wrapped around Sian, who had a black veil drawn over her face. As they walked, everyone bowed their heads in respect, knowing how much Crighton had meant to Sian. When they reached the table, everyone raised their heads as Mr Dawson put his lily down first and kissed his wife on the forehead, but Sian took her time: she placed her lily delicately in her mother's arms, making sure the flower was directly over her mother's heart; then, when kissing her mother's forehead, I saw Sian's body trembling as sobs wracked through her. Mr Dawson put his arms around her, but Sian looked up at him firmly, shaking her head. Mr Dawson looked shocked, but took a couple of steps back, understanding whatever it was Sian needed to do. Sian then stood upright and, looking down at her mother's wrapped body, she opened her mouth and began to sing, and as she sung her voice wavered yet somehow she held it together until the end.
"I took the greenhouse flowers from the windowsill
I threw the day-old tea from the cup
Packed up the photo album that Dad had made
Memories of a life that's been loved
"Took the pictures we drew down for you
Poured the old Butterbeer down the sink
Dad always told me, 'Don't you cry when you're down.'
But, Ma, there's a tear every time that I blink
"Oh, I'm in pieces. It's tearing me up but I know
A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved
"So, I'll sing Hallelujah,
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you'd be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go
And when God takes you back
He'll say, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'
"I fluffed the pillows, made the bed, cleared the photos
Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case
Dad said he'd Apparate, then put his hand on my cheek
And wiped a tear from the side of my face
"And I hope that I see the world as you did 'cause I know
A life with love is a life that's been lived
"So, I'll sing Hallelujah,
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you'd be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go, when God takes you back
He'll say, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'
"Hallelujah,
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
You got to see the person I have become
Spread your wings and I know
That when God took you back, he said, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'"
As she sung, I couldn't stop the tears that fell from my eyes, as her voice was so beautifully sad that I don't think a single eye was dry, and if any were then they were truly heartless, as everywhere around me I could hear the sounds of people snivelling, with Mina's trumpeting blows into her handkerchief echoing loudly. Once Sian had finished, she almost collapsed over her mother's body, but Mr Dawson was there to hold her upright and guide her to her seat, gently but firmly. As they did so, all the bits of the shredded lily blossoms, roots, bark, leaves and petals alike, flew to the bottom of the table and arranged themselves into one word:
MOTHER
When Mr Dawson and Sian had taken their seats, a little wispy-haired woman in plain black robes had got to her feet and stood in front of Crighton's body. I could not hear what she was saying. Odd words floated back to me. "Nobility of spirit" ... "intellectual contribution" ... "greatness of heart" ... it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Crighton as I had known her. I suddenly remembered Crighton's idea of a few words: "nitwit", "oddment", "blubber" and "tweak", and again, I had to suppress a grin ... what was the matter with me?
There was a soft splashing noise to my left and, looking around Grandmother Sarabi again, I saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. I remembered Crighton crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where I now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the Merchieftainess. I wondered where Crighton had learned Mermish. There was so much I had never asked her, so much I should have said ...
And then, without warning, it swept over me, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Crighton was dead, gone ... I clutched the cold locket in my hand so tightly that it hurt, but I could not prevent hot tears spilling from my eyes: I looked away from Grandmother Sarabi, my parents and the others and stared out over the river, towards the Forest, as the little woman in black droned on ... there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the open but I saw them standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching us wizards, their bows hanging at their sides. And I remembered my first nightmarish trip into the Forest, the first time I had ever encountered the thing that was then Zira, and how I had faced her, and how Crighton and I had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Crighton said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated ...
And I saw very clearly as I sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about me had stood in front of me one by one, Pumbaa and Crighton, both determined to protect me, had gone. I knew that I still had Grandmother Sarabi and my parents left, but who knew how long before I lost them, too? They would try and protect me from Zira, this was true, but the loss of my greatest protector - second greatest, really, if you think about it - made me realise something, something that I should have come to terms with long ago: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt me. There was no waking from my nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that I was safe really, that it was all in my imagination; the greatest of my protectors had died and, despite that my parents and Grandmother Sarabi were there, I felt more alone than I had ever been before.
The little woman in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed her seat. I waited for somebody else to get to their feet; I expected speeches, probably from the Minister, or Mr Dawson or Sian, but nobody moved.
Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Crighton's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: I thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that I saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Crighton's body and the table on which she had rested.
There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell short of the crowd. It was, I knew, the centaurs' tribute: I saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.
Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida then stood and took their circle positions around the tomb. They took off their Element Stones and placed them on the tomb. Sian then pulled a pendant - a magical pink pearl held in place by a wooden holder, attached by a black cord - and let it go; it flew high over the centre of the tomb and a powerful bright light burst from it, engulfing the tomb; then the flower arrangement dispersed, and slowly drifted up to the tomb, where they were swallowed by the white light. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the white light vanished. The pendant flew back to Sian, who hid it under her dress, and she and her sisters removed their Element Stones. When Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida had stood back, we saw that the roots, bark, leaves and petal arrangements had all become part of the tomb, at the sides and on top. On the top of the tomb, Crighton's image within had been magically engraved on top, with each of the elements surrounding her.
Sian, who was still stood at the spot where her mother's head had been, collapsed over it. Mr Dawson stood up quickly and rushed over to her, holding her to him. My heart broke for her yet again as more tears spilled down my cheeks, and I kept looking at her until I noticed that Chris had stood up and was looking at me. When my eyes locked with his, he nodded his head to the water's edge. I nodded and stood up. My parents and Grandmother Sarabi, who had been watching this little interaction between us, stood up to let me pass. I shot them a small smile before I walked past them and followed Chris down to the riverbank.
As I followed Chris, I knew that this was it, but how was I going to break it to him? I had no time to think about this, however, for we had reached the water's edge. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the voice deep inside me screaming, 'DON'T DO IT!', I turned to face Chris, but before I could say anything, he said, "We're breaking up, aren't we?"
I was so surprised that he knew what was going to happen that I blinked rapidly, not knowing what to say. Chris smiled sadly and said, "I know. I've known for these past few days to be honest, and I completely understand why, much as I hate that this has to happen."
I sighed sadly and said, "Chris, these past few months with you ... I can't begin to describe how incredible they've been. I only wish that I could have seen the most amazing, sweet, funny, talented guy that I see now standing in front of me months ago ... then we could have had months ... years, really ... but we can't, and that's because of Zira. You know as well as I do, Chris, how Zira uses people her enemies are close to. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. She'll know, she'll find out. She'll try and get to me through you. Chris, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but - "
"Hey, don't you dare apologise for this," said Chris fiercely, cupping my cheek gently. "You and I are not the ones to blame here; it's that monster out there who's taking over the world who's responsible for our break-up, no one else, you hear me?"
I nodded, as tears spilled down my cheeks. "I love you," I told him.
"I love you, too," Chris said, tears spilling down his own cheeks. He pulled me to him then and I did not resist. "But know this, Kiara. I don't care how long I have to wait for you - months, years, decades - but I will keep waiting for you until Zira is defeated, that I can promise you."
I pulled myself away from him. "But, Chris, so much could happen. You and I could ... or she could win and - "
"I know," said Chris, looking at me with a sad smile. "But you're worth the wait. Besides, I've waited two years to be with you, and seeing what we are like together ... well, I'll gladly wait forever to be with you where nothing and nobody can ever come between us."
Chris then gave me one last, lingering kiss on my forehead, before he turned and walked away to where his family were stood in the middle of a large congregation of people, and as he walked away I started crying harder. I then felt a hand on my chin, turning my face to hers, and through my tears I saw the face of my mother, looking at me gently. I fell into her arms, needing her love, warmth and comfort.
"Oh, honey," said Mum softly, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head, "I'm so sorry."
"He broke up with you?" my father said harshly. Looking up, I saw him glaring after Chris, and I knew that I would have to set the record straight before my father went after him and did something that he would later regret.
So shook my head, dried my eyes and said, "No, it was a mutual agreement - because of Zira," I added, as my parents and Grandmother Sarabi looked confused. "We both don't want to break up, but if Zira finds out about Chris and me ..." I shuddered at the thought of what could happen, "well, it's for the best, anyway."
My parents and Grandmother Sarabi all gave me looks of mingled understanding and sympathy. Then Grandmother Sarabi said, "Oh sweetie, I know it hurts now, but in time you will get better and the pain will hurt less. You may not see it right now, but it will be all right."
Looking around at the faces of the three people close to me, and my baby brother Kion who was asleep in Grandmother Sarabi's arms, I realised that I would be, so I smiled at Grandmother Sarabi, who gently juggled Kion on one arm so as not to wake him up so that she could touch my face. Unfortunately, this moment was ruined by Rowena Scrimwazz, who said loudly, "Ah, there you are, Kiara! I wondered where you got to."
My parents and Grandmother Sarabi turned. Scrimwazz was limping rapidly towards us, leaning on her walking stick.
"I've been hoping to have a word with you ... do you mind if I have a moment alone with your daughter, Simba?"
My father looked like he minded very much, but I said quickly, "It's all right, Daddy. The Minister can speak to me if she wants to."
My father looked at my, saw the firm look on my face, nodded, shot a reproachful glance at the Minister and strode off to crowd around the Dawsons, Mum and Grandmother Sarabi behind him. Scrimwazz then came closer to me and we stood side by side in silence for a while gazing out over the river.
"Kiara, this is a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimwazz quietly at last, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Crighton was a very great witch. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I - "
"What do you want?" I asked flatly.
Scrimwazz looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified her expression to one of sorrowful understanding.
"You are, of course, devastated," she said. "I know that you were very close to Crighton, along with the Eldest Dawson Girl. I think the two of you may have been her favourite ever pupils. The bond between the three of you - "
"What do you want?" I repeated, turning to face Scrimwazz.
Scrimwazz looked at me too, still leaning on her stick and stared at me, her expression shrewd now.
"The word is that you were with her when she left the school the night that she died."
"Whose word?" I said.
"Somebody Stupefied a Love Destroyer on top of the Tower after Crighton died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Kiara."
"Glad to hear it," I said. "Well, where I went with Crighton and what we did is my business. She didn't want people to know."
"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimwazz, who seemed to be restraining her irritation with difficulty, "but Crighton is gone, Kiara. She's gone."
"She will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to her," I said, smiling in spite of myself."
"My dear girl ... even Crighton cannot return from the - "
"I am not saying she can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."
Scrimwazz hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Kiara. And your family. I would be delighted to place a couple of Aurors at your service - "
I laughed.
"Zira wants to destroy me and my family and Aurors won't stop her. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."
"So," said Scrimwazz, her voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas - "
"What request? Oh yeah ... the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for - "
" - for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimwazz.
I considered her for a moment.
"Released any wrongly accused people yet?"
Scrimwazz turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Aunt Mavuto.
"I see you are - "
"Crighton's woman through and through," I said. "That's right."
Scrimwazz glared at me for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. I could see Perdy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for her, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Mina and Harlow, who were still in their seats. Chris, Sian and Chrissie had finally broken free of the cluster of wizards still surrounding their family and were hurrying towards me, passing Scrimwazz going in the opposite direction; I turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which we had sat in happier times.
"What did Scrimwazz want?" Chris whispered.
"Same as she wanted at Christmas," I shrugged. "Wanted me to give her information on Crighton and be the Ministry's new poster girl."
Chrissie seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then she said loudly to Sian, "Look, let me go back and hit Perdy!"
I looked at Sian properly then: she had pushed her veil away from her face and I could see that her eyes were sad and wet from the fresh tears that had been spilled, but this did not stop her from grabbing her sister's arm and saying firmly, "No."
"It'll make me feel better!"
Chris and I laughed. Even Sian looked like she wanted to laugh in spite of herself; her lips were quivering and she looked on the verge of smiling for the first time in days, but instead she composed herself and said, "I'm sure our mother would not want her children to be violent at her funeral, Chrissie."
Chrissie looked moodily at the ground. Sian smiled at her sympathetically, then her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.
"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back," she said softly. "But I can't see it closing, though. Everywhere's the same now. I'd say that Dragon Mort is safer, because there are more wizards to defend the place, but only by a thin margin. What d'you reckon, Kiara?"
"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," I said.
Chrissie gaped at me, but Chris and Sian both nodded and Sian said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?"
"I'm going back to my grandmothers' once more, because Crighton wanted me to," I said. "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll probably be gone for good."
"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"
"I thought I might go back to the Pride-Lander," I muttered. I had had the idea in my head ever since the night of Crighton's death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit the place where I was born, I like that."
"And then what?" said Chrissie.
"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" I said, my eyes upon Crighton's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the river. "That's what she wanted me to do, that's why she told me all about them. If Crighton was right - and I'm sure she was - there are still are four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Zira's soul, the bit that's still in her body, and I'm the one who's going to kill her. And if I meet Tiana Triphorm along the way," I added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for her."
There was a long silence. The crowd were mostly gathered around the Dawsons, and the stragglers were giving the monumental figure of Harlow a wide berth as she cuddled Mina, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water.
"We'll be there, Kiara," said Chrissie.
"What?"
"At your grandmothers' cottage," said Chrissie. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."
"No - " I said quickly; I had not counted on this, I had meant them to understand that I was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone.
"You said to us once before," said Sian quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"
"And even though you and I have broken up - " Chris began, but Sian cut across him.
"Broke up? When did this happen?"
"A few minutes ago," said Chris.
"Why?" Chrissie asked, surprised. "You two are so good together, so - "
"Because of Zira," I said. Sian and Chrissie looked at me, so I explained, "If she became aware that Chris and I are together, can you imagine what would happen?"
I saw Sian and Chrissie both think about it, then, slowly, they both nodded their heads. Then Sian said to Chris and I, "We're really sorry, you guys."
Chrissie nodded.
"It's OK," I said sadly. "It's for the best." Then I turned to Chris and said, "Are you sure you want to come with us, Chris, because you know us being together could be - "
"Kiara," Chris interrupted, "just because we're not together does not mean that you don't deserve another friend with you."
I was taken aback, amazed just how much this boy - no, this man - was willing to do for him. I smiled at him and he smiled back.
"We're with you whatever happens," said Chrissie. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round to ours before we do anything else, even the Pride Lands."
"Why?"
"Ferdinand and Sam's wedding, remember?"
I looked at her, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible yet wonderful to me.
"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," I said finally.
My hand closed around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path I saw stretching ahead of myself, in spite of the final meeting with Zira I knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, I felt my heart lift at the thought that there was till one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Chris, Sian, Chrissie and my family.
And so, readers, that is my sixth book complete. This is not the end of the story, so this is not goodbye. It is merely ...
Farewell.
AN 2: So, that's it. This book is finished. I will be back next week with the first chapter of the seventh book, and there will be a slight change in how I am going to format the final book, one which I have been thinking of for quite a while and one which has only come to me in the last year or so, but more on that next week. I am just so happy that I can press the complete button on this book at last and I can put it to bed now. Oh, and if any of you want to leave a review on the past few chapters, bearing in mind that I will ignore all negative comments against the series, then you may do so. If not, then I won't mind. See you next week.