"Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten."
David Ogden Stiers
Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more like the splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material."
F. Scott Fitzgerald
"Where the devil is she?" Rhaegar snarled.
He was in a terrifying mood. His brother looked nervous.
"Rhaegar-" he began, but thought better of it at the sight of his brother's face.
"You were supposed to go with her," his mother said, tone rising. She was no happier.
"You were supposed to meet at the Glasgow portal, together!"
"We had no choice!" Willamar shouted. "You said you sent a patronus to Athelinda, and ordered us not to wait, but get to Glasgow immediately. I went and took Philomena, and I apparated. You assured me she would be there by the time we arrived, and knowing her, I believed she would. But then they started closing the portal. We couldn't afford to wait- we had nowhere else to go."
Katerina closed her eyes and the shadows under her eyes darkened on her pale face as she sank onto a chair in their home in the Acropolis of Kateris- the unplottable Volsunga city.
"This is my fault," she whispered, her face being drained of its colour more. She was ashen. "I should have planned it better. I panicked." A shuddering sigh slipped from her and a tear slid down her hollow cheek through her eyelid.
Philomena stared wide-eyed and white as the others. Tears streamed on her cheeks and the child was shaking.
Rhaegar touched his mother's shoulder. "I need to get back to Britain." His mother looked at him incredulously. He looked firm.
I should have never exchanged such harsh words with her. Our last meeting was hateful. It would be a bitter farewell if-
If what? He didn't dare think about the possibilities. He didn't want to. He couldn't.
Why?! Why did I have to be so hateful and to say such things?!
Rhaegar strode away. His father wasn't there and he was grateful. This might be the worst Christmas they ever had.
He marched away.
Rhaegar had served in covert missions, and was a top soldier, despite his youth and lack of experience counted in years. He had taken down more enemies than he could count- not that that made him feel any better.
He was a butcher. But at least he could save others. Including his family.
He packed the necessary equipment and took polyjuice potion. He was going to need it.
Athelinda smiled when she woke up.
Nothing happened that night, but Tom was smiling right beside her in bed. They smiled and she saw something she never saw before, something which no one else saw before. His smile was unfeigned, more than polite, unnecessary as there was no one else and nothing that needed to be done, yet filled with so much undisturbed light and contagious joy that it lit him up everywhere. He was not feigning this. That was what struck her.
"Shall we get up?" She asked.
He shook his head immediately. "No."
They smiled at each other. Athelinda tried to get up, but he pulled her down beside him. "Please don't." He said. "I don't want you to-" he didn't even know what he was saying until he said it, but Athelinda shook her head.
I'll stay for a few more minutes," she said. "Then we have to make breakfast. And I never really had time to explore this place of ours."
He grinned. Normally he would have loathed the thought of sharing, or giving something away, but now…
She was different. He didn't fully understand, but he sensed it. It may not be a hindrance as he once thought, he mused. In fact, it might be something helpful.
Later Athelinda got rid of the pitiful, but funny and pretty Christmas tree. She took down all the decorations. She cleaned up, and made breakfast.
She looked around.
It was a lovely place. Outside there was sea, sea and fresh air, a beach of snow-encrusted- yellow-beige-white sand. The tide had calmed that day, the sun was shining, and there did not appear to be a single cloud in sight, odd for a winter's day.
But so symbolic and exuberant and joyful.
But she knew, despite her joy, of the troubles that lay ahead. She would have to keep this a secret from her family- especially Rhaegar. After what happened she wasn't willing to attempt even the smallest argument with him, but knew that Rhaegar would blow his head off faster than if Fwoopers had affected him.
It might sound funny, but she would rather have the manticores, chimeras, or even dragons after her, rather than Rhaegar.
She had to keep it a secret. And she held onto the ring, before plucking it off. Grasping her wand, she twirled it conjuring a leather string which she caught and strung the ring through. She wasn't supposed to use magic outside of school, but the trace was blind- or stupid. When surrounded by even one adult witch or wizard, it could not sense the magic. And she doubted the ministry would react or get upset anyway, with the current crisis going on. If it still stood. She tied the string around her neck, and cast another spell, to keep it hidden. A Disillusionment Charm would wear off.
She sighed and looked around.
It was a lovely place, despite being basic. The plank floor was sturdy and polished, not at all crude. The windows were large, especially the one in the kitchen. The kitchen bench, the small table with two chairs, a single sofa and an old armchair, coffee table, a cabinet for mugs, teacups and pots, plates bowls and saucers as well as eating utensils. The pantry was not full but not empty either. Upstairs was a wardrobe for clothes and bed linens. If she was going to live there once the school for her was finished, they would have to get something else- maybe a chest of drawers. But there was a good bathroom with a shower-bath, toilet and sink. It was clean and the tiles were in good condition. So were the shower curtains. Even the mirror and towels looked clean and in surprisingly good condition.
But perhaps they would need more rooms, if they were to have a future together, and children would come…
Listen to her, she thought, shaking her head. She never wanted an early marriage to begin with, even though they were at war and therefore more at risk of ending their lives before they even properly began. But this was Tom, and he was not a hindrance to her future, unlike many others. Furthermore they would be training and raising young witches and wizards to be truly great. The next generation. Destined for great things, she could feel it.
But she also smiled, when she pictured her dark-haired children playing by the sea, splashing in the waves and gathering sea-shells, building sand-castles and snow-men on Christmas. A boy and a girl, with their black hair and eyes, and pale skin.
Their children. Their baby, destined for great things. She just knew it. And she would make sure of it. She would accept nothing less. She never would. Her ambitions, her glorious dreams- their glorious dreams and goals- would not fail.
And now their futures- their children would be a part of it. They would be a great line, a great future for a great family.
Even if she had to hunt down Grindelwald himself to fulfil it.
Rhaegar had made countless kills, earned himself a legend of his own to claim, amongst the military ranks. And soon they would push back Grindelwald's forces.
But Rhaegar had been called to duty before her could sneak back into Britain. The Volsunga- concealing the better part of their strength (at last they listened to him)- had decided to put into place something which Grindelwald arrogantly never expected.
An elastic band theory- just as he did.
And he would be placed in charge.
He tried not to scream and shout and yell and throw things. Athelinda, would have to wait.
He only prayed she would survive, and hold on long enough for him to come.
"I have found a place in Borgin and Burkes," Tom said grudgingly. He tried not to flush, knowing this was a pure-blood aristocratic girl, Atlantean even, and having to admit this to her, of all people who meant so much more to him than anyone, shamed him.
But Athelinda nodded matter-of-factly. "So," she said. "You've found a place. And I just have to get through one more year of school before I can marry you. We'll live here, won't we?"
Tom flushed.
"I don't-"
"Don't worry. This is a good place, and it's certainly proved itself a special place." Her face softened. Tom felt happier when she did that. "But we won't stay here forever, of course. Only when the time comes and our names have risen enough will we be able to find someplace else. And some other positions, of course. We will start at the dirt, humiliating as it may sound, but at least we can claim it through the sweat on our brows and the strength of our magic and minds- not the accomplishments of our worthier ancestors," she smirked. "And soon we shall shine like the stars high in the sky. This is merely a port to stop over- a stepping stone."
He relaxed. She agreed with him. They were of one mind- they were two of a kind. She wasn't a fool.
She drank her coffee. "Eat your toast, love. We have a lot of work to do."
The news came soon enough which shocked everyone- especially Grindelwald's forces.
They Volsung forces had won a significant victory.
Grindelwald's armies had been pushed back. After a spectacular attack by first, land, then quickly before anyone could get the news, sea, then an attack on their air-fleet, Grindelwald's forces lay almost ruined. They weren't defeated fully, but they had suffered a terrible blow, and everyone could see they weren't invincible. Their allies received the worst blows- they were all but destroyed soon enough, after they were first frustrated, their food supplies ransacked, and their weapons and able-bodied fighters lying wasting of some disease, though some whispered poison.
Some camps even went up in flames and were subject to guerrilla attacks.
Then more unexpected attacks came from different directions, they were frustrated and exhausted, and trying to catch these attackers was attempting to grasp a ghost.
These were the allies of the clan and few knew it. Mostly, everyone celebrated. The clan turned its attention onto decimating Grindelwald.
But one problem remained. The Dark Lord himself. Gellert Grindelwald for some reason, hardly ever engaged in a direct confrontation. But when he did, the results were devastating. Athelinda read these reports in the Daily Prophet and the reports and rumours of dark magic, were not only increasing, but appearing to grow infinitely more powerful. The results of one spell from Grindelwald's wand, one survivor and eyewitness claimed, could destroy an entire city- and not a small one.
The few pictures that accompanied this seemed to confirm what was said. Athelinda read this with a growing terror and an icy fear for her own brother and father. Would she ever see them again?
She knew that the Glasgow portal that went straight to Kataris would be closed until the conflict was over. She had no idea how her siblings would return to school. As for her and Tom it would be a struggle, especially as this was Tom's NEWT examinations year.
She shared all this with Tom who looked concerned. But he had found a way, he told her. And hopefully, the conflict would not last too long in their country.
But Athelinda kept reading the reports. The battles were growing increasingly violent. The spells were even more powerful than anticipated. Blood-baths were everywhere.
The numbers of dead counted as millions- more than fifty-million died in Grindelwald's Global Wizarding War and the Second World War of the Muggles. The statistics were often confused with each other- it was hard to keep track anyway of the civilian and military casualties, let alone those captured and tortured or missing.
But they were gaining ground.
The Prophet reported a source quoting that it was as if the Volsung clan had been given a fresh boost of power. They spread rumours- unconfirmed, sadly, and unnamed of anyone involved- that there might have been someone recently arrived into the inner military circles who was planning and leading everyone.
The rumours might have not confirmed anything, but Athelinda's eyes widened when she read this part of the paper.
She knew this style of planning, she could see his fingerprints, his spellwork and handwriting everywhere in this. The fresh boost of energy, the new way of thinking which challenged the older soldiers. She knew who this was. And he was alive, and her heart wept with joy.
Anyone who knew could guess.
But Grindelwald, frustrated and furious and his most ardent followers, would not accept defeat. They killed off those who disappointed them- those apart from their enemies, whom they held responsible for the losses on the battlefield and in their ranks.
Of course not all of their followers were fighter, some were simple ordinary wizards and witches who were raised with such prejudiced beliefs and knew nothing else.
They lived their day-to-day lives- including those who were secretly toasting Grindelwald in Britain.
Ideas can spread quicker than anyone thinks and this one of wizard domination had spread like fiendfyre.
But now, they were realising that defeat was imminent- although they had one surge of hope.
Grindelwald, took matters into his own hands.
Before anyone, even the clan knew it, several cities were attacked and countless innocent lives lost, because the most dangerous Dark Lord so far, had arrived to take a personal hand in things.
Nothing lasts, after all.
Grindelwald turned his hateful eyes north.
The New Year's Eve was Tom's birthday, but before they could celebrate, Tom took Athelinda somewhere.
The two were disguised, and to her amazement, the Wool's Orphanage where Tom had grown up, was still standing.
She could hear the sounds of orphans crying within.
She turned away. Even the place, uniform, austere, blocky and unwelcoming, was enough to put awful things to mind. She doubted they tortured the orphans, but she also doubted that any of the carers actually loved the poor children and gave them the love and care they needed to flourish in their growth.
"This place," Tom hissed. "I hate this place. I don't ever want to remember it."
They apparated, Athelinda clutching Tom's arm.
Suddenly she found herself in a graveyard, when the ground appeared beneath her feet.
It was dark and eerie, ominous-looking, but somehow, paradoxically peaceful at the same time.
And there were lamplights somewhere. Tom lit his wand.
It was definitely a Muggle one. Tombstones made of marble, limestone or granite, bearing names which were unrecognizable to a witch. Unrecognizable save for three.
Tom Riddle was the name she saw first. Her heart leapt to her throat and a flood of ice fell upon her until she remembered that Tom was also the name of his father. Thomas Riddle and Mary Riddle were two more names.
"My grandparents," Tom told her softly. He held his wand close to their gravestones.
The earth looked fresh.
"I came looking for them," he said quietly. "I traced my mother's identity back to this village. As it turns out, she had a brother remaining. When I learned what happened I realised…They're gone, but they were never worth it. My father left my mother when she told him she was a witch. He came back here. My mother had been cast out of her family home when she chose to marry a Muggle. My uncle Morfin killed my father and grandparents only last year, when he couldn't take the misery and shame any longer. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. My maternal grandparents are long-dead."
Athelinda looked shocked. Not only did Tom lose every member of his family, but their callousness, their cold self-absorbed nature in regards to their own flesh and blood- on either side- was too horrible to contemplate.
Who did Tom have apart from her and himself?
Subconsciously, she reached out a hand to touch the gravestone. Tom caught it before she managed to touch the marble.
"Don't." He glared at the stone in loathing as if it were about to commit something else to damage him.
"Tom?" She asked.
"Let's go," he said and he straightened, and after a while staring that the stones, she did as well. She held onto his arm, taking one last look at the tombstones.
They vanished in the night.
Winter melted and all of a sudden, Athelinda managed to make contact with her family.
The invaders left Britain and her family returned, screaming her name in the intact manor and desperately searching for her.
After a long while, they managed to get to London. Everyone looking at Rhaegar's uniform- black emblazoned with the Volsunga crest in silver- were in awe. The medallions also said something, though Rhaegar left most of them behind.
He earned too much. As mentioned, he no longer knew how many he had killed.
They went to London to find Athelinda- perhaps she made it to Diagon Alley? But the Leaky Cauldron's manager did not see a sign of the girl.
However there were others that did.
Some shopkeepers and other residents saw a girl, whose description matched Athelinda's, duelling with the invaders. Rhaegar also heard that a few saw a boy of similar age, if not slightly older, appear out of nowhere and blast some attackers who were aiming for her. After a short discussion, the two of them disapparated.
Who was this boy?
Tom Riddle. He knew it even before they gave the description.
Willamar made contact with Athelinda, and the two of them, Athelinda especially, sobbing and begging for the others' forgiveness and saying they were right, embraced tearfully.
Athelinda grabbed little Philomena, who squealed, as well as finding herself crying on her sister's shoulder. Her mother burst into sobs and pulled the girl with a vice-like grip to her.
Rhaegar stood still. His father had been injured a few weeks before and was currently in a coma. So he blissfully was unaware that his elder daughter was missing.
But Athelinda and Rhaegar held each other, repeating the same things she and Willamar had said.
They held each other, their faces wet with tears, even Rhaegar's. Tears of remorse.
They stayed like that for a long time, whispering apologies.
They didn't know how long they stayed, but when they pulled away, Athelinda wiped tears from her eyes. How unlike her this was, the proud, haughty girl, even in recent months she would not show any sign of weakness.
But something else had changed.
"I was so afraid," Rhaegar admitted quietly. "I'm so sorry, for what I said."
His sister gave a sniffle. "But you were right. Look what I sounded like."
"That was no reason for me to act that way," he whispered, wiping away the last of her tears. "I wish... to take it all away."
She shook her head and looked to the ground. She could not meet his eyes.
"Athelinda?" He asked. "What's happened?"
But before anyone could say anything further, their mother reappeared.
The season changed and soon spring came earlier than expected. But even though the skies cleared and some grass emerged, and a few flowers, and the snow appeared to melt with the air, becoming warmer, something was off, and this was soon proven when the temperatures rose and the skies occluded with clouds once again.
The snow thickened and the buds wilted and died. It was a false spring, something that put people on edge because, well, it was a bad omen to many, even Muggles in the old days.
Winter still existed. And even though Rhaegar was the last person anyone would call superstitious, even he felt the uneasy feeling of trepidation upon him as he beheld the greying clouds and the blizzards returning - although that was nowhere near as powerful as the winds of midwinter.
Spring- the real spring- came late and appeared to be in short. Even though experts all agreed that no magic had been used to affect the weather- thus discounting Grindelwald's involvement with the weather, Rhaegar still felt uneasy.
The false spring appeared to signal something- something not good at all.
What? Betrayal? Deception? A surprise attack? Something worse?
He could not shake off the feeling.
The Christmas Holidays had long ended and the children were all at school.
The NEWT examinations were in full swing, and Tom looked like he was about to achieve well. So did Willamar.
But Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.
His absence made Willamar wildly uneasy and anxious. Rhaegar might be away now, but Tom Riddle remained. And he was still Head Boy. They would have to wait until the school year was over in July.
No one knew what the boy was planning next.
Willamar chided himself. That boy save his sister's life. He should be grateful, not mistrustful.
But he couldn't shake the feeling off any more than Rhaegar.
Athelinda's attitude had certainly improved. She was much more pleasant to be around.
So why did he feel like something even worse was about to happen?
It was mid-spring when they received the news.
The shocking disbelief echoed all around.
Their Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore had challenged Grindelwald.
Dumbledore.
The prefects heard everything. Willamar having been re-assigned to the role, as was Athelinda went all quiet. Apparently Armando Dippet had railed at Dumbledore's 'foolhardiness' and 'recklessness' despite the fact that in no way, had Dumbledore ever been known for such things.
Horace Slughorn could not imagine Albus doing such an insane thing- so insane that no military general had dared to do it.
Herbert Beery shuddered and looked like he was about to faint dramatically just thinking about it. Silvanus Kettleburn wondered about Dumbledore's plan.
Galatea Merrythought on the other hand applauded Dumbledore, until Dippet snapped at her to keep her mouth shut. Did she want the students to get ideas? It was bad enough that Hagrid brought an acromantula into the castle itself.
In the meantime, the students were told to keep quiet and carry on with their work.
No discussions of the subject were tolerated outright.
But they soon received the most amazing surprise of their lives.
Tom was in the Great Hall with Willamar not too far away when they heard the noises.
The examiner scowled and strode the length of the Great Hall to silence the commotion (why they didn't put muffling charms around the place was unknown) but it was soon determined the reason for everybody celebrating was that Gellert Grindelwald had lost.
The Global Wizarding War was over.
Grindelwald had been defeated.
And it was Dumbledore who duelled with and disarmed him.
Their Transfiguration teacher.
The celebrations were enormous. Dippet previously having doubts, now claimed that he knew all along that Dumbledore would do it. ("If anyone could do it, it was Dumbledore! Of course I knew!") The staff halted the examinations (which in the case of the NEWTS, were finished anyway). And everyone danced around the great hall, drinking butterbeer and pumpkin juice, their hands up in the air, while music rang loudly, fireworks exploded outside, well-seen from the towers, and confetti rained down everywhere. The House-Elves cooked the biggest Victory Feast and Dippet made a speech about unity and Dumbledore which made Alphard Black and a few others secretly yawn.
It was over.
And at last, Willamar felt as if he could almost weep, for at long last it was over. At long last they could rebuild. At long last they could go home. At long last they could be a family, without fear of destruction once more.
How heartbreakingly wrong he was.
Nothing lasts forever after all.
And soon Tom left Hogwarts, but Willamar's joy and relief- still exuberant from their father's and brother's survival and the end of the war- was short-lived when Athelinda broke the news to her brothers that she intended to marry Tom Riddle.
She had focused her energies on the NEWTS, after which she had sought Willamar out.
Shell-shocked, horrified and enraged, Willamar contacted Rhaegar who arrived by floo-powder. He took them both back to the manor.
"What." Rhaegar said thunderously, apart from which he was silent. "Did. You. Say?"
Athelinda swallowed. She held out the ring, now unhidden and on her finger.
Rhaegar gave a roar, worthy of a dragon. "You did what?!"
"I-" she shook her head and stood bravely. "I love him. He save my life. He took me in, when I would have died alone in the streets. I-" Suddenly something dawned on her and all her fear vanished.
"He was there!" She spat. And it appeared that the Athelinda everyone thought had disappeared had returned at last. The side of her they never wanted to see again.
"You were comfortable in Kataris, fleeing and leaving me behind before I could get anywhere near that portal in Glasgow! I tore through the streets, unable to apparate, escaping the explosions, whilst you safely apparated with Philomena to Glasgow and portalled out to Kataris! And then what? You left be there! With no one else but Tom Riddle, who had no reason to support and care for me, who asked nothing of me, except to stay and I accepted! Of course I accepted, there was no one else to love or care for when all the rest have abandoned me!" She screamed.
"You left me! You fled and marched away, whilst I remained behind afraid and unknowing whether or not you were alive or whether or not Britain would remain uninvaded! I was filled and sick with fear, anxiety and dread. Wondering whether or not we would be lost! Whether or not you'll come back, regretting everything I said- on my own!" The last part she screamed rather loudly. "And you dare dismiss what he has done? Even if I mean so little to you?" She shrieked.
Her eyes held tears even though she tried to hold them back. Rhaegar was anguished. He loved her. He never wanted to abandon her. Even with the call of duty, his first instinct had been to rush back to England and find her.
Willamar was flushed and tears streamed down his face.
His voice shook. "Linda," he whispered pleadingly, breaking his heart within (as if it hadn't been broken enough. But Athelinda was done paying any regard to him.
She shook her head. "I can't pretend. You've chosen your path and I've chosen mine."
"Athelinda," Rhaegar grabbed her arm. "Tom Riddle… there's something not right about him. He treats his friends like they're more of his followers- and they're a collection of weaklings and cowards, thugs and bullies, and sly self-serving people who gravitate around him."
"Because there is no one else," Athelinda snarled trying to pull her arm out of his hand. Rhaegar shook his head.
"Didn't you find it suspicious, or even remotely odd, when the school announced that it might be closing, then very shortly after, Tom Riddle appeared having 'solved' the crisis? And every attack ceased? Hagrid was not the brightest student that ever walked in Hogwarts. Amazingly talented in Care of Magical Creatures, but the Founders of Hogwarts were not stupid. I said this to Dippet, and I must say, that if there was a monster kept within the castle, no student would have accidentally set it free. They were four of the most brilliant and powerful mages of all time. They trained Merlin! The greatest sorcerer in history! And if it wasn't a monster, but a true culprit, Hagrid could not have been the one. He isn't magically skilled or that knowledgeable about such things. He was just thirteen! And as I said, not the brightest candle on the table!"
Athelinda stood still and silent for a long time.
"What are you saying exactly?" She asked suddenly quiet. She stared at him. "That Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets? That he attacked and killed Muggle-borns?"
"Maybe it sounds insane," Rhaegar said quietly. "As insane as our Transfiguration teacher defeating the most powerful Dark Lord ever recorded. But certainly he's a more gifted student than Hagrid, don't you think? And I wonder that no one ever questioned how he discovered and came to the conclusion that Hagrid was keeping an acromantula. How he believed Hagrid was the culprit and all of a sudden, every attack ceased."
Athelinda looked at him incredulously. "He's a half-blood!"
"That's a filmy excuse not to even ask the mildest, unsuspicious question," Rhaegar barked. "They always employed favouritism on him- even to the point where they turn blind to his behaviour towards others!"
"Like you?" She hissed, her eyes dangerously bright. "Like you, golden boy Rhaegar, now a glorified war hero who soared through ranks faster than pixies or snidgets could fly. Head Boy before that, prefect before that, and top student in Hogwarts and Quidditch champion, or whatever else you are- I forgot. You don't think I knew you never liked him? From the very beginning? Before you were even prefect?"
He was shocked into silence.
"You never could stand it," she screamed. "You never could stand that there was someone else who could upstage your glory, even two people who could work together to do such a thing! You never wanted it, always felt threatened! And you don't really want us to upstage and obscure your glory!"
"Athelinda!" Rhaegar was too stunned to comprehend what had happened.
"Don't," she hissed. "Let go of me, Rhaegar. You've had your turn. You're walking your own path. Your glory you've already achieved. Now you're adding to your list of medals. But this is far more important to me. To you, it's adding to a collection of rewards. To me, this is everything."
She turned and marched out of the room.
"Athelinda!" Rhaegar shouted, desperately.
"Athelinda?" Willamar gasped in fear.
"Athelinda!" Her mother called, fear in her voice, terror even. She had been listening in this whole time and watching in shock what occurred.
"Athelinda!" Her father barked. He shouted pleadingly as she walked out the door. "Athelinda!"
But she was gone.
Athelinda stood quietly in the registry office. School was over.
She was of age.
And beside her, Tom Riddle stood, hand in hand, as the quill with permanent ink rose and floated itself onto his hand. This had to be done in his own hand- not by magic.
He signed his name.
He took his wand and muttered an incantation and something illuminated the parchment and the name was in gold. A seal stood next to it, bearing his initials.
Athelinda's turn arrived. The quill floated to her hand as Tom smiled warmly at her. His eyes glinting with some strange, unknown emotion.
For an instance, she felt something hit her. Something like fear and apprehension.
Something like worry, fear and regret. Something that turned her mind to her brothers, her sister, her mother and her father, the House-Elf and the manor she had left behind. Something very much like regret. Something very much like fear and apprehension. Something that wished she was still back there, or at least, they were here.
But she angrily pushed them back and forced herself to go on and forget, to forget in anger and erase all the images as she signed her name with her own hand, and took her wand and pressed its tip to the parchment, muttering the incantation while the name glowed and Tom's wand joined hers, and together they cast a spell that joined their names, their initials and ultimately, their lives and fates together. The wands glowed golden in unison, the light illuminating the whole room as a shower of sparks fell upon them. Their hands were entwined as the ministry employee smiled and pronounced them joined in marriage by the Magical Law of Britain.
Athelinda stood, dressed in white French lace, diamond pieces and seed pearls stitched onto ivory-white silk in floral patterns, like the buds and blooms that sprung so briefly during the false spring with a rich border of flowered patterns and the snakes that she loved with emerald sequinned eyes curling amongst them. Her veil was lace and in a similar delicate pattern, trimmed in silver lamé with a crown of Narcissus and Petunia flowers, same as on her dress, which she also carried.
His ring was on her hand. The wedding present he gave her was a heavy gold locket with a crystalline front, and a serpentine s set in polished, clear green emeralds.
Tom wore a black suit, simply-cut and not too flamboyant. His hair was growing longer and his cheeks were hollowing, yet it suited him.
Tom smiled and the minister smiled happily at them, and Athelinda smiled as well mechanically. She tried to push things aside.
This was her choice. This was her future. This was everything she had dreamed out laid in front. Her family would understand someday.
She did her best to ignore the lingering feeling within and eventually ceased to notice it.
This was her future.
The plans were set.
"Let her go," a soft voice had echoed after Athelinda left into the night.
They turned and stared. There was an ancient woman in a black cloak with an air of mystery and secrecy. Her eyes were hooded pale amber and her skin was pale and fine as paper with a hint of honey, delicate lines running everywhere accentuating the delicacy of her features.
"You daughter will return to you," the seer said. "But first the game must be set, the chess-pieces laid out and soon the game will begin. The future has taken its course."
Sorry for the length. Snidgets are the precursor to modern-day Quidditch Golden Snitches, tiny fast birds who could explode at the lightest touch, thus being classified as endangered. Fwoopers are birds that cause madness. In the 2014 Quidditch World Cup, New Zealand lost a controversial match to Bulgaria (and Viktor Krum), which included an unfair send-off. The manager Charlie Braverstock described himself for the send-off as being "madder than a bloke who's been locked in a box of Fwoopers."
The seer at the end has a powerful, mystical part to play in the whole plotline of the series, and we'll see more of her. Her identity is a closely-kept secret. She might even be immortal.