A/N: This is it, the last regular chapter — all that's left is a short epilogue. Wow, what a ride this has been! Yule Ball Panic started as an experiment in April, 2015, and now here we are at the end, 19 months, 114 chapters, and over 700,000 words later. Thanks to everyone who has been reading it all, I appreciate all your reviews and favorites.
As always, a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. This is a long chapter, so Bonnie spent a tremendous amount of time this past week editing!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "The Last Casualties" by muggledad. Lily and James Potter didn't die in 1981. Voldemort put them in a magical stasis so that they could return and see a future where he was victorious. That obviously didn't work out so well, though, and they instead returned to a ruined house and no idea what had happened. They go to Hogwarts seeking answers and arrive just in time to hear their son being chosen as a champion by the Goblet of Fire. This is a great H/Hr story, though it isn't finished and hasn't been updated in a while.
For those who are observant, there's a reference here to Driftwood1965's "Harry Potter and Future's Past." Consider it an easter egg. :)
There's also a reference to a legend about Callanish in which a cuckoo heralds the arrival on midsummer morning of a being, spirit, or deity known as the "Shining One."
Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...0!
Chapter 51 - Never Say Goodbye
Friday, June 2, 1996, Early Morning.
Jasmine and Hermione had been fully prepared to answer whatever questions Amelia Bones had — or most of them, at any rate — until an auror came into her office to inform her about the casualties, including Minerva McGonagall. This so devastated the two young witches that Sirius insisted that they be allowed to return to the school, which according to another auror was now secure after a desperate and bloody battle had taken place there as well.
Fleur and Gabrielle, of course, weren't going to let the other two depart without them, which left the rest of the coven sitting like rabbits before a wolf as the head of the DMLE turned her attention towards them and started demanding answers. As Sirius closed the door to her office, it sounded as though Susan was taking the lead in responding on behalf of Jasmine's friends. He silently wished her luck.
"What's going on up there?" Sirius asked once the portkey had deposited them outside the Hogwarts gates.
"I'm not sure," Tonks answered. Given all that had happened, Bones wasn't about to let the others travel without at least one auror to escort them, and Tonks had been chosen given her familial connections. "I thought that all the fighting had taken place inside the castle, so I don't know what the investigating aurors would need to look at around the front doors." She and Sirius approached cautiously, unwilling to completely trust the situation.
"Morning, Tonks," said one of the red-robed aurors once they got close to the castle's front doors.
"Wotcher, Proudfoot," she said in return, though her voice lacked much of its customary cheer. "Did something happen out here?"
"Apparently werewolves trapped the students in the castle while the Death Eaters attacked from within," Proudfoot replied. "But by the end of the fight inside, all the werewolves were gone. All that was left was some blood, bits of fur, and a few arrows embedded in the door."
Sirius looked at the hollow-eyed expressions on Jasmine and Hermione and decided that they had seen more than enough death for one night. "Why don't you two go on inside — we'll be along in a minute," he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it.
Nodding mechanically, the girls allowed themselves to be guided into the castle by their veela protectors. Fleur gave Sirius a grateful look as she passed him.
Tonks, meanwhile, had been looking closely at one of the arrows that her fellow auror had gestured to, and to everyone's surprise, she recognized it. "Centaur," she announced.
"How would you know that?" Sirius asked. "Every centaur makes his own arrows, and they all do it differently."
"Yeah, well, I met the one who made that arrow," she explained. "About seven feet at the shoulder, white speckles on the side. Never caught his name."
"One night stand, eh?" Sirius asked before he could stop himself, causing the two investigating aurors to snort with suppressed laughter.
"Oi!" Tonks complained, tossing a stinging hex in his direction. "I was undercover!"
"Yeah, I'll bet you were," Sirius said with a bit of a smirk. Even with all that had happened, some openings were too good to pass up. The moment passed quickly, though, and he began to feel that he should really be with the girls. "Do you gentlemen need anything else from us?"
"Actually, I have a few questions for Auror Tonks here, if you don't mind," Proudfoot said, so Tonks gestured him to go on alone.
Inside he found that the entrance hall was a complete wreck. There were pieces of stone, statues, and armor everywhere. The walls were scorched and pockmarked from stray spells, and given how extensive the bloodstains were, the number of bodies that must have already been cleaned up had to have been substantial.
Up ahead he saw Jasmine and Hermione approaching Flitwick, who was directing the cleanup, and he hurried to catch up.
"P-professor?" Hermione said, her voice so quiet that Sirius could barely hear it. "At the Ministry... the Head—"
Flitwick held up a hand to stop her. "I already know, my dear. I received control of the wards during the battle, which told me that everyone with greater seniority had perished. Can you... can you tell me how it happened?"
"Professor Dumbledore was blasted through a stone arch during a fight... the Veil of Death," Jasmine said, speaking a bit louder for the sake of the crowd gathering around them. Their curiosity about what had happened at the Ministry was obvious, though the intimidating sight of Fleur and Gabrielle in their golden armor kept them from getting too close.
"It was Snape," Hermione added, bitterness creeping into her tone. "He was there dressed as a Death Eater and murdered the Headmaster."
"He was absent all day yesterday," Flitwick said with a frown as the crowd of students and teachers began to murmur. "During a sweep of the castle this morning, it was discovered that his quarters had been hastily emptied at some point."
"He fled the Ministry before we fought Voldemort," Jasmine said.
As the crowd buzzed with this news, Fleur informed the girls quietly, "I have zent a message to Maman. Ze aurors will be looking for him here, but others will be watching to see if he travels to ze continent. He will not get far."
"You fought You-Know-Who again?" Ginny asked as she, Luna, Neville, and Ron worked their way to the front of the gathering.
"We've been working for the past several months on plans to confront him in a way that would give Jasmine the advantage," Sirius explained.
"We didn't expect it to happen last night, but with Professor Lupin's life at stake, we knew we couldn't wait any longer," Jasmine went on. "So yes, I fought him. He's dead. For good, this time."
A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, but a few noticed that Jasmine and Hermione weren't sharing in the jubilation. "What else happened?" Luna asked softly.
"Professor McGonagall... She... she didn't make it," Hermione said, ending on a sob.
"We're not sure what exactly happened to her," Jasmine said to Professor Flitwick. "She was thrown against a wall by a spell from Bellatrix. Sirius talked to her and she said she was fine, but..."
Flitwick looked to Sirius, and once again he felt a wave of guilt threaten to overwhelm him. "I should have stayed with her — maybe I could have done something," he said miserably. "I only left because she assured me she was fine. She said she'd simply had the wind knocked out of her."
"Sometimes the most serious injuries can't be seen," Flitwick said, his eyes filled with sorrow. "It's not your fault. You should know that her sacrifice was not in vain — it was only my getting control of the wards that enabled us to survive here."
"What about the others?" Neville asked. "And did you find Professor Lupin?"
"No one else was injured too badly," Sirius answered, noticing that Jasmine and Hermione were starting to withdraw in on themselves again. "Just some minor stuff. There was no sign of Remus, unfortunately. Madam Bones said she'd have aurors look for him as they investigate the remaining Death Eaters. That's all we know right now."
When it became apparent that no more information was forthcoming, the crowd reluctantly began to disperse. Sirius then turned to Flitwick. "I intend to start searching for him myself once I leave here," he said quietly, "but first, I'm going to see these two to bed." Flitwick nodded and returned to organizing the cleanup, leaving Sirius free to escort the girls to Gryffindor Tower.
As it turned out, however, they were the ones who escorted him to the Room of Requirement because they desperately needed privacy right now. Sirius was suitably impressed when Hermione created a room with a large bed and multiple showers, and he greatly lamented the fact that he and James had never found this room when they were students.
Then Winky and Dobby arrived, and for once it was a tearful reunion on both sides as they threw themselves into their mistresses' arms.
"I guess you'll be alright here," Sirius finally said as he opened the door and started backing out. "I'm not sure where I'll start looking for Remus, but—" A loud pop from behind caused Sirius to spin around with his wand drawn, but he immediately lowered it in surprise. "Kreacher?"
"Oh, Kreacher doesn't feel good, no he doesn't." The old elf gripped his head in his hands and swayed a bit, then staggered back against the far wall where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung.
"Kreacher, what's wrong?" Jasmine asked as she exited the room.
"Are you alright?" Hermione said worriedly, kneeling down next to the elf.
Dobby peered out around the doorframe and nodded knowingly. "It be a long trip from London," he said by way of explanation. "Dobby is always being very tired when he goes."
Kreacher looked up at the concerned faces around him, even his master's, and for just a moment his customary venomous glower softened to a mere sulk. Then he pulled himself together and addressed Sirius.
"Mistress Walburga sent Kreacher with a message," he said. "She told Kreacher that Master Cygnus came with news from Malfoy Manor."
Sirius' eyes widened. "He was able to say the name? The Fidelius charm on the place must be down. What did my uncle have to say?"
"Master Cygnus says that Master Sirius' werewolf is being held there."
"Remus!" the girls exclaimed.
"Who is Cygnus?" Fleur asked.
"My uncle," Sirius explained quickly. "Narcissa's father. In exchange for giving her sanctuary on Black property, she agreed to put a portrait of her father in a strategic location in Voldemort's hideout. That's how we've been getting information about him, though the Fidelius charm meant that Cygnus wasn't able to explain where exactly he was. For it to be down now, something about the secret itself must no longer be true."
"We'll go with you..." Jasmine started to say as she jumped up, but Sirius put a hand on her shoulder.
"No, you all have done more than enough. You need to rest. I'll go to the Ministry first to get a team of aurors from Amelia, and hopefully a healer, too. She might even come herself, since I'm sure there will be a lot at Malfoy Manor that she'll want to go over." And maybe I can take some of the heat off poor Susan, he added silently.
"Come on, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep," Hermione said, pulling Jasmine by one arm while Gabrielle grabbed the other.
"But... but..."
"Don't worry, I'll send word as soon as he's safe!" Sirius called back, already turning the far corner and heading for the stairs.
Much later, the rest of the coven arrived with news that Remus was in critical condition in St. Mungo's, but that he was expected to pull through. In the Room of Requirement, the showers automatically multiplied and the bed enlarged itself to accommodate everyone, including Ginny and Luna, who had also joined them. For the rest of the day and the following night, all eleven witches held each other, cried, and offered what comfort they could. It would take a while for them to grieve, but it was a start.
Friday, June 2, 1996, Night.
A thin man with a hooked nose and sallow skin stood near the bow of the ferry, staring off into the darkness towards France and resolutely refusing to turn back to take a last look at England. His left hand twitched as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through his once-greasy hair, now shorn into a crew cut, and he grimaced as the salt in the air caused the long, barely-healed slash that cut across his face to burn. He considered taking another pain potion, but decided against it. He was near the recommended limit already.
At his feet was his travelling bag, expanded inside to the maximum amount possible to hold his possessions, potions supplies, false identity papers, and even gold. He'd never kept more than the bare minimum in Gringotts, preferring instead to keep it handy because he always knew that the day might come when he'd have to run. And that day was now here.
The reminder brought a pang of regret and the image of an old man's face as he fell through the Veil. That particular disaster certainly hadn't been his intent, but the old fool shouldn't have interfered. He shook his head, ruthlessly shoving that thought down into the pit where he kept all his other regrets and bad memories.
Someone stepped up to the railing next to him, and his right hand gripped the wand in his pocket more tightly.
"I've always preferred the sea at night over the day," came a lilting female voice with just the hint of a French accent. "That's why I always take the latest ferry when travelling. Well, that and the fact that it's never as crowded. I do so hate the crowds, don't you?"
Snape almost involuntarily nodded in agreement. He hadn't wanted to engage anyone, but he had never liked crowds either. That was one reason why he was making this trip at night, though he knew that with so few people around, he would be easier to remember once the Ministry or Potter came looking for him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman look down at his feet briefly before she said, "You don't appear to have enough luggage for a vacation. Business trip, then?"
"Of a sort," he answered reluctantly. He'd be starting a potions business. Eventually. Once he'd run far enough that he felt safe stopping and settling down.
"Most business travellers travel during the day," the woman observed. When Snape remained silent, she went on, "There is one aspect of night travel that I don't like so much..." He felt her move a bit closer. "As much as I don't like crowds, I don't necessarily like to be alone, either. And it does get so lonely travelling at night."
Snape turned to face her then, and in the light of the nearly full moon he saw that she was a very, very beautiful blond. He was surprised to note how tall she was, too. He arched one eyebrow — the one without the slice running through it — and replied, "I've never found that to be a problem."
"Really?" she asked, cocking her head a little as she smiled ever so slightly.
"Well... I honestly haven't ever travelled that much," he said, starting to feel oddly warm.
"I'm very experienced myself," she said. "Perhaps I can educate you? We have a couple of hours until we arrive."
"I... suppose I could be persuaded," he replied, surprising himself with his words and having trouble thinking of anything but the blonde in front of him. Perhaps the pain potions were affecting him more than he realized?
"My name is Phoebe," she said as she stepped away from the railing. "And you are?"
"Alexander," he barely remembered to say as he followed her inside.
In the darkness, he couldn't see her fingers slowly transforming into talons.
Saturday, June 3, 1996, Late Morning.
"Thank you for keeping an auror detail here, Madam Bones," Flitwick said as he led her to a small table in the headmaster's office. "With so many of our staff gone now, it would be difficult to maintain security and order in the castle, especially with OWLs and NEWTs about to start."
"Not a problem, Headmaster," she replied, "and please, call me Amelia. I have a feeling we'll be working closely for a while."
"And do call me Filius," the diminutive professor said as he poured tea for the two of them. "I'm not comfortable with that title."
"You'll have to get comfortable with it," Bones said. "I have it on good authority that the Board of Governors — those that are left, at any rate — will vote to make your temporary position a permanent one. Even the most conservative of them will be hard-pressed to oppose someone who led the victorious defense of the school."
"Oh dear," Flitwick responded, sagging a bit in his chair. "I never aspired to become the headmaster here at Hogwarts — I only ever wanted to teach charms. And I certainly never wanted to become headmaster under these circumstances."
"Well, I can at least tell you that your worst security problem has been identified," Bones said as she sipped her tea. "All day yesterday and all last night we raided the homes and businesses of every known Death Eater. We'll do more today based on what we learn about the identities of those killed here and at the Ministry. In some of the first homes we raided we found three of your wayward students: Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe."
"How long had they been out of the school?" Flitwick asked.
"Not long, actually," Bones answered. "Because of what happened, we had no trouble getting a judge to override their mothers' objections and used veritaserum on them. Nott was responsible for getting the Death Eaters into the school via a vanishing cabinet which he had spent most of the past year repairing."
"Oh, my," Flitwick said, starting to rise. "I really must—"
"No need," Bones said, holding up a hand to calm the agitated professor. "We have the matching cabinet already. Took it in a raid of Borgin and Burkes, which I don't think will be reopening. We'll want your cabinet eventually, but there's no rush."
"That's good to hear," Flitwick said in relief. "What about the other two boys?"
"They weren't aware of the plan until just before it happened, but they didn't object," Bones said. "The only reason none of them joined the attack is because Nott was ordered to stay behind and guard the cabinet. Someone was supposed to get them once they were victorious. When they eventually got tired of waiting and discovered just how badly the Death Eaters had been beaten, he and the other two snuck out through the cabinet and ran home."
"Well, none of them will be welcome back in the school, regardless of what happens to them at their trials," Flitwick said severely, all traces of his usual good humor gone.
After a long moment, Bones ventured, "Not to be indelicate, but will you be able to find people to fill all three of the open positions?"
"Four, actually," he corrected her. "Early this morning Poppy had to transfer Septima Vector to St. Mungo's, where she's joined over fifty of our most seriously injured students. According to Poppy, It's unlikely that Septima will ever recover enough to return."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bones said. "All four, then?"
"I'm not sure, but I hope so," Flitwick said. His expression brightened briefly. "On the plus side, for the first time in decades, we'll be retaining our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for another year, so that's one less thing I have to worry about." Then he sighed. "But honestly, I haven't even begun to think about writing advertisements or sending out letters of inquiry. There's just been so much to do..."
"If there is anything the Ministry can do to help, whether it's finding professors or getting the castle working again, just let me know," she said.
"I trust you'll understand if I'm a little reluctant to invite even more of the Ministry into Hogwarts?" His tone was perfectly polite, but his eyes were wary.
"Oh, of course," Bones assured him. "But things will be different going forward. Umbridge won't be returning, even if we can find her again."
"Really?" Flitwick asked, genuinely surprised. "I'd have expected Fudge to try to get her back in here, one way or another, right after punishing Miss Potter for what she did to the woman."
"Potter isn't in any trouble as far as I'm concerned," she said. "Even though no one will explain exactly what books Umbridge was so worked up about, everyone I've talked to who does seem to know something insists that they have nothing to do with dark magic."
"No, they don't," he agreed. "And no, I won't say either. It's something that the young witches here seem to have appreciated a great deal. I'll leave it to them to explain it, if they wish."
"Clearly Susan and I have much more to talk about than I realized," Bones said under her breath. When he just waited patiently for her to continue, she went on, "As for Fudge... well, he'll be out if I have anything to say about it."
"Finally found something you can use against him?" Flitwick asked eagerly.
"Not yet," she sighed. "We can hold him for a week without pressing charges. It used to be just twenty-four hours, but he had the time extended — probably part of a plan to go after Miss Potter, so I'm happy to use it against him now. I'm sure we'll find enough in that time to either put him in Azkaban or at least force him to resign."
"That's nice to hear," Flitwick said as he sipped his tea, "but somehow I doubt you took time out of your incredibly busy schedule to tell me that."
"Quite right," Bones said, setting aside her own cup. "I'm not sure how to ask this, but... well, do you know anything about magical rituals creating large bursts of magic?"
Flitwick paused briefly in mid-sip. "Is this an academic question? Because rituals aren't a subject I've ever researched."
"No," Bones said with a shake of her head. "Such rituals have been performed all over Britain in recent months, releasing enough magic to create significant changes in the surrounding ecosystems. The most recent one produced a massive wave that damaged all the magical detectors in the Ministry, opening a huge breach in our security. Albus and Minerva not only knew about the rituals, but knew who was involved. In fact, Minerva herself was involved somehow. Albus promised that he'd encourage those behind it to come talk to me once the Ministry was more trustworthy."
Flitwick nodded in sympathy. "And now that is upon us, but neither Albus nor Minerva is here to help you. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can tell you about the issue."
"She was our only direct connection, too," Bones said in consternation. "Minerva raised the idea of having an auror at least observe the next ritual as a way of providing assurances that nothing illegal is going on, while taking an oath not to reveal the identity of the participants unless charges become necessary. Auror Tonks is thrilled by the idea, but without any way of getting in contact with them..."
"Maybe I can still help," Flitwick offered. "I have yet to go through all of Albus' and Minerva's things here in the castle in preparation for executing their wills. If I find anything that might allow you to contact those involved, I'll pass along a message."
Bones smiled for the first time since she'd arrived. "That would be helpful — thank you. I had been willing to leave them alone, at least for a while, but once the damage in the Ministry occurred, I had to start taking steps. It was only Minerva's assurances that the circumstances of that ritual wouldn't likely be possible for at least another year that caused me to not take her into custody and pressure her for more names. Even so, the Department of Mysteries is aware of the disruptive waves, too, and I can't do anything directly about their investigation."
"Well, that's just another reason for me to get to that unpleasant task sooner," Flitwick said. "More tea?"
Sunday, June 5, 1996, Evening.
"...And that was when she brought up the possibility of having an auror present to observe the rituals." Flitwick concluded. "Apparently it was Professor McGonagall's idea."
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other as they sat in front of the headmaster's desk.
"So..." Hermione said slowly, "you're saying we would be able to stay anonymous so long as we don't do anything illegal, but Madam Bones would have someone there to keep an eye on things."
Flitwick nodded. "I think that was Minerva's intent when she came up with that compromise, and I'm told that Auror Tonks has agreed to it. Now that Minerva is no longer with us, though, Madam Bones didn't think she had any way to put the compromise into effect."
"Tonks is the auror?" Jasmine asked, surprised. "Well, that certainly makes things easier. I think we can go along with it, but we'll have to talk to the others first. Fleur can probably tell us if the veela will agree."
"And the goblins, too, don't forget," Hermione added. "This will mean the Ministry learning about their role in setting up wards and providing guards. They might not approve."
"Very good observation, Miss Granger," Flitwick said with a slight smile. "It wouldn't be a good idea to surprise them with something like that, even if they do end up agreeing to it."
"Is that everything, Prof... I mean, Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "We need to get back to study—"
"No, I'm afraid not," Flitwick interrupted. "Shortly before last summer ended, I served as a witness when Minerva changed her will. Except for a few items that are being given to the school and a couple of mementos for friends, the two of you are to receive all of her personal possessions." He paused as both witches gasped in surprise, then reached out to take each other's hands.
"She considered the two of you family," he continued. "This is something I would have waited until after your OWLs to bring up, but I made going through Minerva's quarters a priority — I needed to find a way to contact the mysterious people behind the rituals, you see — and I found something with your names on it. Since she thought it important enough to label it in such a manner, even though you would have gotten it with everything else eventually, I decided I shouldn't hold it back."
He took a small package which had been sitting on the corner of his desk and pushed it across. Hermione immediately reached for it, opening it carefully.
"Is this what I think it is...?" she asked in wonder as she pulled out a vial with a silvery substance in it.
"Oh, my!" Flitwick exclaimed. "That's a memory!"
"There are a few others as well," Jasmine said, looking into the box.
"This one is labeled 'first,'" Hermione noted, pulling out another vial.
"She's left you memories of some sort," Flitwick said. "How wonderful! All you need is a pensieve."
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore shared a number of memories about Voldemort over the last term," Hermione said.
"Excellent! So you know what to do," Flitwick replied. "Unfortunately, pensieves are rather rare. I suppose Minerva thought you'd use Albus', but I haven't come across it yet..."
He was interrupted by a blinding flash of light above the desk. When they could all see again, they realized that Fawkes was circling the room, a large package clasped in his talons. With a soft trill, he gently set the package on the desk, then landed next to it.
"Hm," Flitwick said as he stood on his chair and leaned over the box, "I wonder... May I, Fawkes?" he asked politely. At the phoenix's affirmation, he proceeded to open it. "Yes, just as I thought! It's Albus' pensieve! And more — come see!"
Both witches got up and leaned over the box as well. "More memories!" Jasmine exclaimed.
"And books!" Hermione added. "Lots of books!"
"That explains some things," Flitwick said as he pulled out a piece of parchment. "Albus had quite a collection of old and rare books, but as I've been going through the things in his office and quarters, I haven't found nearly as many as I had expected."
He scanned the parchment briefly before continuing. "You'll want to read this for yourselves, but the short version is that everything in here is for the two of you. He left instructions for a house elf and Fawkes to collect them all if anything should happen to him rather than simply gifting them to you via his will. There are a lot of rare things here, and he didn't trust the Ministry not to interfere. In addition to the pensieve, memories, and books, there are a few magical objects of his own creation as well as his notes and journals from the past several decades."
"Wow," Hermione said. "That's probably even more priceless than the books and pensieve."
"Yes, I expect so," Flitwick responded, handing over the letter.
As much as they wanted to begin examining the memories immediately, they still had too much studying to do for their exams the following day, so they agreed to put off viewing the two vials marked "First" until Monday evening. The rest could wait.
His task accomplished, Fawkes trilled a final song that was somehow melancholy and hopeful and content all at once. Then he launched himself into the air and disappeared in a burst of fire.
Monday, June 6, 1996, Evening.
They decided to view Dumbledore's first, figuring it that it would probably be the easier of the two. They were once more in the Room of Requirement, and because she and Jasmine had already practiced that afternoon with their own memories, Hermione now confidently removed the stored memory and placed it in the pensieve. Within moments, they were both looking at Dumbledore, sitting on a comfortably worn couch in a room they didn't recognize.
"Hello," he said to them. "It feels a bit odd to say that, since from my perspective I'm sitting alone in a place far from Hogwarts; but I know that you two will eventually see this, so from your perspective it will be as if I'm talking directly to you." Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other, then shuffled sideways so the Headmaster was looking at them instead of staring off into an empty corner of the room.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to communicate with you in this fashion rather than simply write a letter," Dumbledore continued. "Well, for this particular memory I suppose I could have, but once I made the others it seemed a bit odd to revert to writing, so here we are. Aside from the brief explanatory note which I'm sure you've seen, all I wrote down was a list of what each of the other memories contain — you'll find it tucked in my last journal.
"As for the rest... One afternoon while I was reviewing my interactions with the two of you and lamenting some of the mistakes I'd made, I realized that there was one mistake which I could rectify, even after death. Indeed, it is because I suspect that I may not survive the coming conflict that I've done this."
At this point Dumbledore stood up and started to pace behind the couch. "The failure I am referring to is my failure to teach you, Miss Potter. It was something you pointed out to me rather forcefully at the end of the summer, in fact. So all of the vials contain memories of me explaining a variety of old and difficult spells. I show you wand movements, shortcuts, and even a few variations of my own design which no one else knows about."
"Cool," Jasmine whispered.
"I'll bet you find that very interesting," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I hope you find it all useful as well. Same with the many books I've left for you. It is the collection of my notes and journals which I hope will be even more useful, however." At this point he seemed to shrink a little, and the expression on his face turned regretful. "When I was young I was quite ambitious. Due to some... unfortunate events which I will not go into here, but which you will learn about soon enough, I scaled back my goals to just teaching. I wanted to help train and mold future generations in the hope that they would make better choices than I did."
Fawkes trilled brightly, and even in the memory, Jasmine and Hermione felt better. "Thank you, old friend," Dumbledore said to the phoenix. "Circumstances beyond my control forced me to take part in a war, and afterwards my victories propelled me into positions of political power and responsibility, none of which I was truly prepared for. It took me a long time to learn a lot of hard lessons — lessons which I have wanted to teach you, Miss Potter, because I have long hoped that you would become a great leader in the future. In my journals and notes you will read about all that, and if you pay close enough attention, you will be able to learn those lessons as well. Just without the pain and hardship I had to go through."
Fawkes trilled again, but this time mournfully, causing Dumbledore to sigh deeply. "Perhaps you are right," he responded, then slowly sat back down on the couch. "Politics is a dirty business. Even when everyone is perfectly honest, you are still forced to work with people whose goals and values differ greatly from your own, requiring all manner of compromises and half-truths just to get anything done. I've become so accustomed to them, though, that I no longer even notice myself using them. Here I am, trying to speak to you from beyond the grave, and yet I'm still relying on half-truths."
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably.
Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The truth... the real truth, if I am to be perfectly honest, is that I'm not sure I want to survive the coming war." He returned the eyeglasses to his face and looked at the two witches, almost as if he knew where they'd be standing.
"The truth is that the two of you frighten me — not because I'm particularly worried about you turning dark anymore, but because of the sort of future you intend to create. No matter how hard I have tried, I've been unable to identify anything truly wrong with what you want to do; but at the same time it is so alien from what I'm used to and have spent decades protecting that I'm not sure I'd be able to adapt to it. Perhaps it's cowardice on my part... or perhaps I'm remembering how ambitious I was at your age... but lately I've found myself hoping that I'd go out in a blaze of glory, allowing you to go on with your plans without an old man like me there to drag you down."
He looked down at his hands in his lap and was silent for a while. Finally he said, "I do wish you two the best, and I hope that you are able to make the improvements to our society that I've been unable to bring about. Just because I'm frightened of what you might achieve doesn't mean I don't want you to succeed, otherwise I wouldn't leave you so much that I think will help. Perhaps... perhaps you will become the leader we need, even if you aren't the leader so many in our society will want."
Abruptly he slapped his thighs lightly and said in a much stronger voice, "Well, that won't do. I don't want to end my final message on such a depressing note. Fortunately, I know just the thing!" His eyes twinkled merrily as he continued, "Miss Potter, do you remember asking me recently to teach you a rather interesting spell?"
Jasmine's eyes widened and she nodded eagerly.
"I hope you just said yes," Dumbledore went on. "I already saved you a memory about it, plus some other related spells, but let's do that one now, shall we?" He stood up and raised his wand high. "The incantation is Vortex Igneus and there is no particular wand movement — you need to move your wand in a circle over your head. The wider the circle, the larger the safe area around you will be."
Fawkes actually squawked then.
"Ah — good point, my old friend," he said, smiling a bit sheepishly. "Perhaps I shouldn't cast this particular spell in my host's living room. Shall we step outside?"
"Wow," Jasmine said as they exited the pensieve. "That was..."
"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Do you... do you think he knew he was going to die when he saved Sirius?"
Jasmine considered that. "I don't think so. It's not like he used his own body to block the curse. It all happened so fast, but I'd say he looked surprised more than anything else."
"At first he did," Hermione agreed, "but then he seemed... I don't know, content, maybe?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he was more willing to take chances," Jasmine said, "but I don't think he expected anything to come of it so quickly. I'd bet he expected to be killed by Voldemort, not by a Death Eater."
Hermione looked down at the vial containing McGonagall's memory and said, "I'm not sure I'm ready to watch anything else."
"Yeah," Jasmine agreed. "That was harder than I thought it would be. I'll need some time to think about it."
"We don't have any exams until Friday afternoon, so maybe watch hers on Thursday evening?" Hermione suggested.
Jasmine shook her head. "No, Friday is our Transfiguration practical," she said, causing Hermione to blanch slightly. "Let's save this for Friday evening." Hermione simply nodded, not trusting her voice.
Wednesday, June 7, 1996, Afternoon.
"This really is for the best," she said.
"So you keep telling me," Fudge replied sourly as he began signing the parchment that he'd been handed, "but I have yet to see it, at least for me."
"You get to avoid Azkaban," Bones reminded him. "Even if we don't reinstate the dementors, it still a miserable place."
"I still can't believe you're doing this to me," he muttered, his quill almost stabbing the parchment as he went from sheet to sheet.
"You did it to yourself," Bones said, her voice suddenly cold. "If you had acted more responsibly when the reports of Voldemort returning first came out, no one would have looked any deeper into your business. No proof of your many indiscretions and crimes would have been discovered."
"Fine," Fudge snapped, shoving the stack of parchment back at her. "When can I get out of here?"
"First, all of these need to be officially filed," she said as she flipped through the parchment, making sure they were all signed properly. "Once that's done, someone will come here to take your testimony on everything you've done. If you can complete that tonight, a couple of aurors will escort you home tomorrow, let you pack, then take you to the border."
"And that's it? You won't trouble me any longer?" he demanded.
"As long as we don't turn up any evidence of you doing anything you don't admit to in your confession," Bones answered. "If you're truthful, then you'll never hear from the British DMLE again."
"Good," he said petulantly as he crossed his arms and watched her leave.
By the time she got to her office where Rufus Scrimgeour and Moira O'Connor were waiting, she was grinning from ear to ear.
"You got it?" O'Connor asked.
"YES!" Bones crowed, holding up the parchment triumphantly. "We're finally rid of him!"
"It's about time," Scrimgeour said with a sigh of relief.
"Did you get everything you wanted?" asked O'Connor.
"All of it," Bones confirmed. "He's resigned, he's given up all his vaults, and he'll go into exile. Rufus, when we're done here I'd like you to do the final interview. He has to confess to everything he's done before he can leave."
The head auror nodded as Bones sat down behind her desk. "Once we have that," he said, "we'll know which of his lackeys here at the Ministry are actually guilty of any crimes and which are just toadies." Once everyone had learned that the Minister was on his way out, the mood in the Ministry had turned decisively against those who were most in Fudge's favor. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, no one wanted to be associated with the man or his policies. Unfortunately for some, like Percy Weasley, they had too much history of supporting Fudge to easily talk their way out of reprisals.
"So," Bones continued, "anything new on the dementors?"
"No," Scrimgeour answered. "No more have returned since Monday. I think the rest have probably gone rogue and will have to be hunted down."
"Alright, I'll let the Unspeakables know that they can start going after the dementors, then," Bones said. "If any of their ideas about how to destroy them work, then we'll have far fewer to deal with."
"And if that fails, we can sic Miss Potter on them," O'Connor said with a grin.
Ordinarily Bones would have given her a disapproving look, but her spirits were still so high at Fudge's impending departure — as were Moira's, obviously — that she decided to let it pass.
"Moving on," she said, clearing her throat, "I see that the centaurs haven't openly admitted to slaughtering the werewolves, but also didn't make any effort to hide the suspiciously large wolf pelts they had curing."
"They have no reason to trust the Ministry," O'Connor pointed out, "but I think they wanted us to know that they helped."
Bones nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too. Let's send them... something. I don't know what — I don't know much about centaur culture. Get someone from the Magical Creature Liaison office up here this week so they can tell me about what centaurs like but have trouble getting. Then we'll send them a bunch of it as an official thank you. Maybe we can use this to start improving relations with them."
That folder was closed and another opened. "What about the last four missing persons: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Cormac McLaggen, and Dolores Umbridge?"
"Still no sign of McLaggen and Umbridge beyond the blood and bits of clothing we found at the boat entrance to the castle which the incoming first-year students always use," Scrimgeour answered. "I think we're going to have to accept that they are probably dead."
"Eaten by werewolves?" Bones asked with a shiver.
"I'd have thought that even werewolves would have better taste than to eat Umbridge," O'Connor muttered.
"McLaggen's uncle Tiberius isn't going to like that," Scrimgeour commented. "He's been floo-calling my office almost every day, looking for information. I even sent aurors to his house to take a statement, just to get him off my back, but he won't let up."
"Perhaps you should point out to him that given what his nephew is reported to have done at Hogwarts, he may be better off dead or missing," O'Connor noted.
"And Malfoy?" Bones asked, trying to move the meeting forward.
"No one has been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation for how he could have gotten out of the Ministry without being seen," Scrimgeour answered. "We've found his blood and... an important piece of him which Miss Potter admitted to having severed, but that's it." Scrimgeour shifted uncomfortably as O'Connor tried and failed to stifle a snicker. "Even his wand was missing. As for Severus Snape, he was at least seen leaving, and we have put up posters with a picture of him. So far, though, no one has come forward with any information about him."
"I think they both left the country, possibly together," O'Connor added.
Scrimgeour nodded. "I think they probably fled as well, though not necessarily together.
"List McLaggen and Umbridge as Missing," Bones said. "Without actual bodies — or at least enough pieces to make up two bodies — I'm not quite willing to assume that they are gone. And if they do turn up, I want them for questioning at the very least. List the other two as Wanted, then send notices about all four of them to all the other magical ministries."
Yet another folder was opened up. "Next," Bones announced, "we need to start preparing for the trials of the few surviving Death Eaters..."
Friday, June 9, 1996, Evening.
"Are you ready for this?" Hermione asked, looking uncertain.
"No, but we might as well do it," Jasmine replied.
Taking a deep breath, they entered the pensieve and found themselves in McGonagall's office. She was pouring tea at the table they always used, just as if they had arrived for their weekly get-together. Once her tea was prepared, she looked in their general direction and said, "Hello Jasmine, Hermione. It feels a bit odd, talking to you even though you're not here, but that's why I served myself some tea. It felt... appropriate."
She took a sip before continuing. "I got the idea of doing this from Albus when I learned that he was creating memories of his own for you. Hopefully he doesn't mind, but I'm sure he'll let you use his pensieve for this. After these past couple of years, a final letter felt too... impersonal. There are so many things I'd like to say to you... so many things I should say, or perhaps should have said, but have been unable to."
Setting the teacup back down on the table, she folded her hands in her lap and sat in silence for a long moment before saying, "Thank you for giving me the chance to help you. I'm sorry it took me so long to start, but I appreciate that you gave me the opportunity to set things right. I've felt quite honored to have been allowed to help a couple with a soul bond, especially since..."
She trailed off and was silent again for a bit. "I don't think I've ever felt closer to any other students, or more a part of their lives. I think it's partly because... I don't know for sure, but I'm think that Bonnie and I were forming a soul bond as well when we were young — a bond which I broke when I so foolishly refused to follow her in leaving our homes." Jasmine and Hermione gasped in surprise as Minerva dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Breaking a soul bond isn't exactly an evil act, but it does come with negative consequences," she continued. "I think that's why I was never able to find anyone else I could be happy with... why I've had trouble finding happiness at all in my personal life, at least until you two came along. I think that whatever harm I caused myself was finally healed, at least somewhat, by working with the two of you. I've been happier these past couple of years than I can ever remember being, except of course for when I was still with Bonnie."
Hermione instinctively reached out to her, but just as quickly pulled her hand back, remembering that there was no one there to comfort anymore.
"So you see," Minerva said, "I owe the two of you more than I can ever say. It's one reason why I've left you all my personal effects, barring a few mementos to some old friends. I'm also leaving you memories in which I explain some advanced transfiguration concepts and spells that I suspect we never got to cover together, assuming that you're watching this because I didn't survive the war with Voldemort. There are books that cover these topics, but there's nothing that can replace watching an expert do them. If you pay attention and practice what I show you, you shouldn't have any problem getting Os on both the practical and written portions of your Transfiguration NEWTs!"
Both Jasmine and Hermione smiled ruefully at the idea that she was still giving them homework, even now.
Minerva paused and seemed to gather herself, and when she spoke, her voice broke a little. "Finally... I want you both to know that I'm very proud of you. In fact, I don't think I could be prouder, even if you were my own daughters. I also expect to be proud of all the amazing things you're surely going to accomplish. If there's one thing that I most regret about the thought of dying, it's that I won't get a chance to experience and share them with you. I'm not a seer, and Merlin knows I've never put much stock in divination, but I do believe that the future holds great things for you. So promise me that you won't keep looking backwards, and that you won't allow your hearts to be filled with regrets or grief, as I did. You have each other, which is a precious gift — focus instead on that, and make the most of it."
Once the two witches emerged from the pensieve, they immediately fell against each other, sobbing quietly over the loss of a relationship that had been cut off far too soon.
Tuesday, June 13, 1996, Evening.
Cormac McLaggen looked around at the dense forest, wondering how he'd gotten himself into such a Merlin-bedamned mess. At least it's summer, he thought. I can't imagine being here in the middle of winter!
"Where are we again?" came the increasingly annoying voice.
"Gloucestershire," McLaggen answered with an exasperated sigh, trying not to stare at the giant pimple on her nose. "My uncle and I used to hunt nogtails in this forest before we discovered that the hunting was much better in Norfolk." I should have tried to get to my uncle sooner, he lamented silently. They had finally reached his house, expecting the promise of safety, only to find aurors leaving as they approached. With even Tiberius being watched, they had been on the run ever since.
"It's not a pleasant place," she complained. "No shelter, no food—"
"That's the point of being out in the wild," McLaggen said impatiently, cutting her off. "We can't go into any magical areas because the Ministry is looking for us. You refuse to go anywhere near muggle villages..."
"Filthy animals, all of them," Umbridge muttered. "Of course they'd want to live in a place like this — they have no self-respect. No value."
"Right, well, that doesn't leave us many options, does it?" McLaggen said, a bit of heat edging into his voice. I wonder if I can claim to have been put under the Imperius curse? They'll still believe that excuse, won't they?
"If Cornelius were still in charge, we wouldn't have any problem," Umbridge said. "I'm quite sure that harridan Bones did something illegal to get rid of him. She's probably been in league with Dumbledore and Potter all along."
"I'm not sure that matters much right now," McLaggen retorted. "At the moment, we need to worry about food." All the more so with you here and unable to contribute. He had to work to stifle a groan. I thought rescuing her would help secure my position with the Ministry, not drag me down! What if I said that she put me under the Imperius curse? That might work...
"I still can't believe those werewolves destroyed my favorite pink cardigan," Umbridge continued, clearly not listening to him. "Ripped it all to shreds! I just know I'm going to freeze... At least I have you here, my dear boy. I'm sure that together we'll work something out."
He saw her start to lift her skirt and hastily turned away, once again cursing the awkwardness of his situation. As a result, he never saw her adjust the bandage on a bleeding bite wound.
Wednesday, June 21, 1996, Evening, 9:30 PM. Callanish on the Isle of Lewis.
"Welcome sisters... and brothers," Apolline said, smiling at the three young wizards in their circle. At Jasmine and Hermione's request, Neville, Ron, and Blaise had been permitted to take part in this year's Midsummer celebration. Not every veela ritual would be appropriate for including wizards — the allure alone would always present complications — but they had been willing to allow it this time as a sort of trial run.
Tonks stood beside the three, looking every bit as wide-eyed and excited as they did.
"Today is Midsummer's Eve," Apolline continued, "the beginning of midsummer, which is the longest day of the year. Today is the day when we celebrate the power of the sun that gives us light, warmth, and life. A day when we recognize the bonds we have with each other, just as the sun binds all life together. A day when we remember how we depend on each other, just as we depend on the sun."
It was at this point that Jasmine suddenly stepped forward from the circle and said in a voice thick with emotion, "We should also take a moment to remember and celebrate the life of someone who isn't here with us tonight... someone who also helped connect us, who helped nurture the bonds we have with one another."
"Someone who served as a mentor and guide for us all," Hermione continued, coming to stand next to Jasmine and giving her a watery smile. "We're speaking of course of Minerva McGonagall, whose first ritual with us was exactly one year ago."
Jasmine raised her mug of mead, which she had not yet finished when the idea to do this had suddenly come to her. "To Minerva McGonagall," she said.
"To Minerva McGonagall," chorused the others, including the veela, also raising their mugs and drinking.
The girls stepped back into the circle, with Jasmine now looking embarrassed at having interrupted the ritual.
"Thank you," Apolline said, "I should have thought to do something like that." She then proceeded with the ritual much as Juliette had the previous year, and as the sun dropped close to the horizon, she distributed discs for the creation of new protection amulets made from a stout birch branch given by the centaurs in the forest near Hogwarts. A large group of fairies came to investigate, attracted by both the flowers and the magic.
Soon they were lighting their midsummer candles, each passing the flame to the person standing next to them as the magic swirled around their ankles and the central fire grew higher. Ron and Neville were clearly nervous despite - or perhaps because of - having been told what would happen, but they gamely pressed on. Blaise looked expectant, and there was a light in his eyes that wasn't usually there. Tonks kept looking around her in wonder.
When the last candle was lit and all the pooling magic rushed into the bonfire, it exploded upward like a volcano, spewing flames as far as the eye could see. Then, just as suddenly, the pillar of fire collapsed down, sending a wave of magic and fire racing outward, passing through the ritual participants and across all of northern Scotland and nearby islands.
It was close to midnight when they were joined by a group of a dozen wizards and witches led by Alessandra Zabini — including Sirius, which surprised everyone. They'd finished their own ritual at a nearby stone circle, and as they'd arranged through Blaise, the two groups mingled together and spent the next hours getting to know each other as they waited for the dawn. It provided an opportunity for Jasmine and Hermione to introduce themselves to Alessandra's people. They no longer had a hostile Ministry to contend with, but a grassroots movement of support would still prove useful.
As Jasmine had once said, they still had one prophecy to go, and they'd need all the help they could get to navigate the political and cultural shoals they were facing in Britain.
All across Scotland, plants of every type were opening in anticipation of the dawn that was about to break. Animals, too, both magical and mundane, were up and moving, as if they knew that this, the longest day of the year, was something special.
Within the boundaries of the great stone circle of Callanish, two groups of people were mixed together and forming up to greet the dawn, much as their ancestors had nearly five thousand years earlier when the megalith site was first constructed. Just outside, a group of goblins watched and waited.
"It is time for a new dawn," Apolline announced. "A new dawn for a new day, a day in which we must all strive and work together to build, to grow, and to love. For without love, there is no magic, there is no life, and there is no future."
As a cuckoo sang in the distance, some motes of light floating in the long avenue leading up to the stone circle pulled together, coalescing into a shimmering mass of golden radiance. Slowly it began to drift along the avenue towards the circle, drawing more light to itself as it moved. By the time it finally reached the circle, stopping right behind Jasmine and Hermione, it had resolved into a figure that was too bright to look at easily, but which was clearly feminine in nature and which appeared to be draped in a flowing golden robe.
The gasps from the others caused Jasmine and Hermione to turn around to face the being of light, who seemed to smile at them. Just then, the sun rose over the horizon, sending its rays down along the avenue and momentarily blinding everyone. When they could see again, the being was gone; on the ground where she had stood were two silvery brooches of a stylized female figure with large breasts and hips, swathed in a gown of gold.
As Jasmine and Hermione were showing the brooches to the others, they found themselves surrounded by several shocked goblins.
"I don't believe it," Lufestre said in a hoarse whisper.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
With a slightly shaking hand, Lufestre pulled back the edge of her outer robe to reveal that she was wearing the exact same brooch.
"Is that...?" Hermione asked.
Lufestre nodded. "The gift I and another received on Yule."
"Isn't that the symbol of your Goddess?" Jasmine asked.
Lufestre nodded again. "She has a name, one which only the priestesses are allowed to use: Ishtar. Later known to humans as Astarte, Aphrodite, Miranda, and Venus."
"The embodiment of love," Jasmine said softly as she put her arm around Hermione. "Did... did she really just visit us?"
"I think so," Hermione said, just as softly. "I feel... lighter now. More hopeful."
"Yeah... I feel like everything is going to turn out alright in the end."