Chapter Forty-Three
Reflections
During breakfast in the Owl Room, Jeremy stared at Quintin's notes and tried to make some sense out of them. He was still sitting there when Quintin came back with a large handful of books. Jay followed behind, helpfully setting down another stack before heading back out to the circulation desk.
"You still look a bit confused," Quintin observed.
"A bit?" Jeremy said. "Are you sure you included everything that happened in this memory of your Aunt's?"
"I did, it's just that it was really hard to describe," Quintin explained.
"I hope none of the other memories we find are this bizarre. I wish I could have seen it for myself. In fact, I'm more than a bit concerned now that any other memories we find will probably only be witnessed by one person... and it won't be me. How am I going to get an accurate account of any memories we find if I can't see them myself?"
"You sound pretty sure that you're going to find them," Jack noted from where he sat on the other side of the table, doing his homework.
"Yes, because I think I already know where some of them are," Quintin admitted. "But Jeremy has a point, too. He's really good at getting every detail out of something he witnesses and find ways to describe them, well above what I can do."
"Thank you very much," Jeremy said proudly, making a note in his journal that Quintin had said so.
"Experiencing someone's memory second hand ,and then having to relay what I experienced myself second hand, is going to leave an awful lot of room for error. I wonder if there is some way to fix that?" Quintin pondered.
"Isn't that what Pensieves are for?" Jack pointed out.
"Yes, for loose strands. But these memories that are already woven into physical items," Quintin said. "What we need is a way to get these items to work as if they were attached to a Pensieve, so that we can all see it."
"Okay. How are we going to do that?" Jeremy asked.
"I don't know, but fortunately, I know exactly who to ask," Quintin said, getting up. "I need to head down to the Potion Room weekend lab. Are you coming?" he asked Jeremy.
"Sure, but I thought your mother was gone this weekend," Jeremy replied.
"She is, but that's not who I had in mind," Quintin said.
"Can I go along?" Jack asked curiously.
"Sure, if you want," Quintin said, reaching over and grabbing the Sorting Hat off the side table and putting it back on. Jack quickly marked the page he was reading with a playing card and got up, following them out the door and down the stairs.
As Quintin marched in with Jeremy and Jack, the rest of the students in lab looked up curiously. Truman, with his glasses full up on his nose, smiled at them as they walked over to his table.
"What are you doing wearing that ridiculous Hat? And indoors, no less?" Moira asked, still stirring her cauldron as they passed her table.
"It's the fashion. Everyone will be wearing leather hats next year," Jeremy improvised.
"If that comes into fashion again, I think I'd move to another country," Moira said.
"Oh, would you?" Jeremy asked hopefully.
"Jeremy, be nice!" Quintin said. "Moira, there's an acrid scent coming from that cauldron that shouldn't be at that stage. You should probably turn it down a little and make sure that you're stirring all the way to the bottom."
"Like I would take advice on potion-making from a first year!" Moira exclaimed indignantly.
"I was just trying to be helpful," Quintin protested.
"Come on, Moira, leave him be, especially if you expect me to study with you on Monday," Jack warned. Moira frowned and grew quiet, stirring her pot but making no effort to lower the burner.
"So just what are you doing here in your fashionable Hat?" Truman asked Quintin.
"Thank you," the Sorting Hat said.
"Just ignore him, it wasn't my idea to bring him along," Quintin murmured, then raised his voice slightly. "I'm looking for a problem solver." Truman's glasses slid down on his nose, reminding Jeremy and Jack just how many times they'd seen Professor Craw do that.
"I see," Truman said, sliding his glasses up again. "I think I know something that might solve your problem. You need a Pocket Mirror."
"What? Like the one you and Quintin carry around?" Jeremy asked in confusion.
"Oh no... sorry... it's a homophone. I mean the magical device called a Pocket Mirror. It's a Mirror charmed to have a pocket in it that's linked to another space... like an empty room or closet or whatever. A lot of people use them to store things in. It's very handy if you want to hide something valuable, since typically it's set up so that only certain people can access it and the like," Truman said.
"Yes, I know the device you're talking about now, but what does that have to do with our problem?" Quintin asked.
"Well, I'm in Professor Andrew's Advanced Transfiguration class, and we've been working on different items that can be transfigured into reflective surfaces," Truman explained. "And one of the things he mentioned was a Transfiguration technique he invented that turns a Pensieve into Pocket Mirror, so you can place it next to a wall and then walk into the memory just as if the Pensieve were in the next room over. Of course, that's just what it looks like when you're using it; what you're really doing is walking into an empty space you designate during the Transfiguration Process, but it does make for a seamless transition in and out of the memory, so it's less jarring on the human mind due to the Alice Effect... am I getting in over your heads?"
"A bit," Jeremy said, but Jack and Quintin shook their heads.
"Not at all," Quintin said. "But I'm wondering how that's going to help us. Transfiguring a Pensieve into a Pocket Mirror might be feasible if you know the right incantations, but we're talking about memories stuck in random objects, and I highly doubt that all of them can be transfigured. It's not like they're in proper vessels, is it?"
"No, but it's still a vessel. It's still being stored as if it's in an attachment," Truman explained. "It's true that you wouldn't be able to Transfigure it in the way Professor Andrew does... to be candid, it takes a Master at Transfiguration to even pull off that Pensieve trick. But charmed mirrors are very simple to link to something else, that's why they're used in Wiznet machines and as communication devices by some wizards. All you really need to do is find a mirror tall enough to walk through, charm it to be a Pocket Mirror, and then link it to your item. If you can find a mirror that's tall enough to walk through and an empty space to link it to, I'll help you set up the device."
"I'm on it," Quintin replied, turning to the others. "Wait here a moment while I locate us a mirror."
"Just how long is a moment?" Jeremy said critically.
"Less than ten minutes," Quintin replied, walking out of the room. Jeremy, Jack, and Truman stared at the door he went out of.
"He's going to find a mirror that no one will miss of the appropriate size in this enormous castle in less than ten minutes?" Jack asked dubiously.
"Have you ever known his time estimates to be off before?" Jeremy defended. Jack pondered that, still looking towards the door.
"Maybe this will be a first?" Jack conjectured. Jeremy was about to offer terms for a bet when Arcadia stepped into the room in human form.
"Oh! Good morning, Jack and Jeremy! I'm back, everyone else, sorry about the delay! I have your horsefeathers, Moira... oh dear! That doesn't smell right!" Arcadia realized with a frown, looking in Moira's pot. "I'm afraid your burner is up too high. You'll have to start over," she said. Behind her, Jeremy smirked smugly, and Moira glared fiercely at him. "Oh, don't worry! It's lucky it happened when it did, really. I would have hated for it to have happened after you added the horsefeathers... you have no idea what I just went through to get these! Don't worry, I'll let you use the school's back up ingredients, and I'll stay in the room until you get past the crucial stage so that they don't get wasted," she promised. "Jack, did you have a project to work on? Jeremy, did you have a question about your Potions homework?' Arcadia asked curiously.
"No, not really. We were just asking Truman for advice," Jack replied.
"Really? Is it something I can help with?" Arcadia asked.
"Not at the moment, Doctor. You see, I'm a Capricorn, and he's a Pisces," Jack explained.
"Oh! Yes, alright, carry on," Arcadia said, turning her attention to Moira. "Let me help you dispose of that while you measure your ingredients for a new one."
As the two of them got to work cleaning up the old potion, Quintin walked back in, still wearing the Sorting Hat. He greeted Arcadia before stepping over to the other two.
"I found a mirror in the Ravenclaw storage room that isn't being used. I'll need help moving it to the Guard Wing," Quintin said.
"Did you need me to come with you?" Truman asked.
"No, it'll probably be a bit. Go ahead and finish what you need to do here first. Here..." Quintin said, pulling off the Hat to reveal that Ebony had been sitting on his head. He picked the rabbit up and stuck him in the hood of the cloak hanging on Truman's chair. "He'll lead you up when you're ready."
"Thanks," Truman said, and the three boys went back out into the corridor.
"So what did you tell Doctor Arcadia in there, Jack?" Jeremy asked curiously as they walked to the back stairs. "About being a Capricorn and a Pisces and all of that?"
"That's what you get for not taking Astrology," Quintin chided Jeremy.
"Actually, I didn't take it either," Jack admitted with a shrug. "I just know that whenever Doctor Arcadia questions me like that, all I have to do is remind her what my sign is, and she lets me go back to doing whatever it is I'm doing."
"Eventually that's going to backfire on you," Quintin chuckled at him. "Those charts don't always go in a person's favor, you know."
"But until then, I'm going to take advantage of it," Jack said unabashedly, following Quintin into the long corridor that connected them to the front of the castle and then over to the Ravenclaw storage room.
"Do you have a key or a password?" Jeremy asked when they arrived.
"Storage rooms are another set of rooms that open to both staff members and full-time residents," Quintin replied, opening the door as if it wasn't locked at all. "I used to play in here all the time as a child. My old room... now my sister's nursery... is right next door to this one."
"We often came in here to play Cunning Agents, looking for mysterious clues," the Sorting Hat recalled.
"Funny, it looks a lot smaller now... and it used to be a lot more cluttered," Quintin added as they stepped in.
"Probably because they ended up borrowing a lot of furniture and shelves to put together our common room," Jeremy ventured.
"Here it is," Quintin said, walking over to the dusty mirror and using a spell to clean it off to check its condition. "It's alright, it's just dusty, and the frame's a bit chipped, but that shouldn't matter. Take the other end, Jack. Jeremy, you can lead us through to the Fluffy Room. We'll levitate it downstairs to work on it."
"But it's going to be freezing down there!" Jeremy protested.
"All the more reason why nobody's going to be down there," Quintin pointed out. "Besides, Jack and Truman can go in there when they like since it's before we get to the door guard."
"True, but it does mean navigating this mirror down that ladder," Jeremy said. "And there's that construction barrier around it."
"I can deal with that part," Jack offered, backing the mirror into the Doorlift.
When they came out the other side, Jeremy and Quintin held the mirror upright while Jack used a series of unlocking spells until the padlock came off and he could move the protective post and chains back. Then he slid down the ladder, shouting at the others to bring the mirror above the opening so that he could levitate it down from below. Pretty soon they had it safely down leaning against the wall while taking turns complaining about the cold.
"I'm sorry, I just can't work down here. I'm going to get a portable fire out of my dorm room and bring it here," Truman said.
"Me too," Jeremy agreed.
"Alright, and get your coats while you're at it," Quintin acquiesced, going back over to the ladder and climbing back up.
"So now that that's done, where are we going to find the memories to hook them to?" Jack asked.
"What about Janus Craw's journal?" Jeremy suggested.
"I don't think I'd be comfortable doing that one... not without talking to him first," Quintin admitted. "I don't think it's right to look in someone's private memories without their permission."
"Then isn't all of this pointless?" Jeremy asked with exasperation. "I know that Janus and Professor Ravenclaw have ghosts, but we can't exactly get permission from the others, can we?"
"Well, if they're really dead... as in ascended and moved on... then that's a bit different," Quintin said. "A lot of famous people have had their diaries and journals published, and I don't feel funny about that, but I'd feel pretty uncomfortable reading the private thoughts of someone who's alive. And ghosts... although technically not alive... are still alive enough that it'd make me feel funny reading them unless I had permission. Aunt Anna and I talked about it, and I think she's right that we should ask first, even if it was their original intention to leave them to posterity."
"Then we have a problem, because I don't think Janus is going to give us permission," Jack admitted.
"Right, so let's skip that one for now. We'll do O'Laren and Caprica first. And for the record, their paintings didn't have a problem with it," Quintin said.
"Okay, so they don't have a problem with it. But do you know where their memories are?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, Jeremy figured it out," Quintin replied.
"I just figured out what to look for. Quintin figured out where to go," Jeremy explained, following him back over to the Doorlift.
The three of them stepped through, and Jack found himself back on the dungeon level near the Potion Room. They didn't go very far down the corridor before the stopped in front of a large stone door.
"The Memoriatorium?" Jack asked questioningly.
"The name says it," Quintin agreed, pulling the handle to slide it open.
"But that's just wordplay! It's a combination of two words to describe its purpose, because it serves as a memorial to the teachers and ghosts who are interned in these catacombs," Jack said.
"Yes, but who named it?" Jeremy asked.
"I have no idea," Jack admitted.
"I think Caprica might have named it," Quintin said. "Do you know if she has an urn, ghost box, or a chest for remains in here? Because if she does, it's going to have what we're looking for in it."
"What makes you so sure?" Jack asked.
"Because Caprica didn't die in the castle. She died in the forest as a centaur, so it's unlikely for her to have remains stored here," Jeremy explained. "If there's an urn or chest, she put it here herself to hide something in it."
"Oh! Clever," Jack decided.
"So do you know where it is?" Quintin asked. "I know you've been in there before."
"Yes, the oldest remains are a bit deeper in, really. Come on, I'll show you," Jack said, grabbing a torch off the wall. "This all goes further under the hill, you see, and the different vaults shift around as they get filled... it's quite fascinating, really."
"Do you suppose Slytherin designed this as well?" Jeremy asked.
"If he had, I would have thought he'd have been the first one buried down here," Jack replied. "Instead, they built that elaborate Tomb and put a barrow overtop of it. I don't doubt that people used to visit it on a regular basis in the olden days, though, paying homage to it. I wonder when it stopped?"
"Perhaps it was because of Mallus Craw," Quintin conjectured. "He went down there to be bathed in the Dark Magic there and made into his personal hideout, coaxing his Bansidhe grandmother to haunt the place."
"If it was a hideout, that'd imply it had already fallen out of use," Jack said. "Maybe the Dark Magic elite still knew about it then, but didn't go there anymore. Perhaps the real answer is simply the passage of time, since that whole area was covered with trees and brambles when it was found, and I don't doubt that overgrowth had already started before Mallus Craw's age," he decided. Quintin nodded thoughtfully at that. "Anyway, we're getting close now."
"Just how is it that you know your way down here, anyway?" Jeremy asked.
"My father used to take Joey and me with him during house calls," Jack explained. "Sometimes when ghosts are in a rotten mood, they hang out by their remains, so I've actually been in here a lot. It may seem random at first, but there's a counter clockwise pattern to it. When we leave, we just have to go in the opposite direction and take the first available passage, and we'll be out before you know it," he reassured them. He stopped inside a very dark chamber, holding up his torch. "Here we are," he said, walking over to an iron stand in the middle of the room and sliding the torch in place.
It was a large square room with vaults on three sides, some larger than others. Two sides had vaults meant for whole corpses, the third smaller ones, while the fourth side had shelves for ash-filled urns or exhumed remains kept in the small, ornate boxes that had the remains of ghosts and other individuals who were brought into the castle well after they had died.
"This isn't creepy at all," Jeremy said flatly.
"No, not really," Jack said, missing the sarcasm completely. "Most of the oldest remains in the castle are kept here... except for Janus and Icarus, of course... they're in the modern section, since their remains weren't brought back until more recent times. If I'm reading this right..." he paused, looking over at the wall. "This urn here is supposed to be Dusthorn."
"There is no way those ashes are Dusthorn," Quintin said firmly. "Open it up."
"Open it? I'm not sure I can. It might have to be a blood relative or something... let's run some curse checks on it first to be safe," Jack said. Jeremy sighed, going to the center of the room where his torch was placed to update his journal.
"You know, I don't think Dusthorn would make it a condition to be a blood relative to open it, because I'm sure she had always planned to retire as a centaur," Quintin said, watching as Jack began casting detection spells. "Besides, when I asked her permission to look for her memories, she didn't warn me of any traps or anything."
"But would her painting have even known about any traps?" Jeremy asked.
"I'm sure she would have, because that wasn't painted until after she had taken over Headmaster, and these were set up before that," Quintin pointed out.
"There is some sort of condition on the stopper, but there doesn't seem to be any hexes or curses on it if you try and fail," Jack reported. "In fact, the conditional charm reads as a Light Magic spell."
"It's always good to know that it's not likely to kill us," Jeremy replied, then wrote it in his journal.
"A conditional Light Spell that's not dependent on bloodline..." Quintin repeated. "So it's probably something that checks to find out if we're an ally or not. Try hitting it with a basic light spell of some sort? I'll cover."
"Okay," Jack said, hitting it with a flash of sunlight. "Nada," he reported, testing the stopper. "Maybe it's something more personal than that? Maybe something she passed down to the school."
"The only thing that I know she passed down is the Spear of Lugh, and that was through the centaur line," Quintin said. "And the Scroll, of course, but I doubt that has anything to do with it."
"What about that two-ton Hogwarts Rules and Regulations?" Jeremy said.
"Yes, but that's not very personal, is it?" Quintin pointed out.
"Not really," Jack said. "She did leave the painting. Maybe it has something to do with that?"
"But she would have said something when I asked for permission," Quintin said.
"I don't know then. What else would a Half-Pooka leave behind?" Jack asked.
There was a subtle flicker, and they glanced at the torch.
"Did you see that?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"See what?" Quintin asked.
"The stopper glowed for a second when Jack said Half-Pooka," the Hat reported, and they turned to look at it.
"Half-Pooka," Jack said again. Now that he was looking at it dead-on, the flash was more obvious.
"That's it! Of course! Caprica's darkest secret when she was alive was that she was Half-Pooka! She's betting on the fact that only someone who was a close friend of hers would know the truth!" Quintin said excitedly.
"Caprica Dusthorn is Half-Pooka," Jack said clearly, grabbing the stopper. With another flash of light he pulled it out easily, peering inside. "Good news, everyone, it's not filled with ashes. It's filled with Sleepsand," he reported, carrying it over to them and setting it down.
"A thousand year old Sleepsand... well past the expiration date," Jeremy commented.
"It's just a packing material, obviously," Quintin replied, and he and Jack put on some gloves and turned it over to see what was inside.
"Whatever it is, it can't be very big," Jeremy observed, not seeing any lumps in the sand pile as Jack and Quintin began going through it.
"Here, what's this?" Jack said, glancing at his hand in surprise. "Why, it looks like an ivory pipped die."
"I found one too," Quintin said, sifting through the sand just in case there was more. "Roman by the look of it... I think these must be what we're looking for."
"It's probably not triggered by touch. More than likely, it's by rolling the right set of numbers," Jack conjectured. "Should we try it?"
"No, let's take them up to Truman. He's probably waiting on us by now," Quintin said.
"All the same, shouldn't we take this box with us as well?" Jeremy said, and they looked over to see him standing next to an ornate wooden box. Jack went over, noting O'Laren's name in runes and running some basic tests on it.
"I recognize that box," the Sorting Hat said. "That's O'Laren's Chaturanga box. It's an ancient form of Chess he used to play."
"This one has a Light Spell on it too, but the lid's already open slightly," Jack observed, using the tip of his wand to slide it open. "The pieces inside are glowing with Light Magic too."
"So if they're like Dusthorn's dice where you need to roll something specific, I bet those pieces need to be set up in a particular way to get them to work," Quintin suggested. "Good find, Jeremy! We'll bring those up too."
"Alright," Jeremy said, closing the box. Quintin pocketed the dice and Jack put the urn back on its shelf. "Lead the way, Jack!"
"Now pay attention this time so you can notice the pattern to it," Jack told them and led them out.
But it wasn't long after they had left the room and made their way through the next that clanging bells began to sound. They were so loud that they felt as if they were standing in the bell tower, causing them to howl in pain and cover their ears. Quintin finally managed to cast a Sonorous Shield around them, but even as they uncovered their ears with relief, they saw ripples along the shield as the loud clanging noise continued outside.
"It must be some sort of anti-theft spell," Jeremy said.
"But we had permission to look for these!" Quintin protested.
"The spell didn't know that! It was probably put in place to protect against grave robbers centuries ago," Jack replied.
"How do we disarm it so we can get out of here?" Quintin asked, a bit worried that his shield spell wouldn't hold forever.
Suddenly the vibrations eased and Quintin saw that there were no longer ripples against his Shield spell.
"I think it's over," Quintin decided.
"In more ways than one," Jack said, nodding over to the doorway where Sirius Black stood with his hands folded, a wand still in hand.
"It'll be alright, Jack," Quintin told him, dispelling the Shield. "Sorry about the alarm, Uncle Sirius. We were doing some research."
"Never mind the excuse, what are the three of you doing down here without an escort?" Sirius asked sternly. Quintin pointed at the Sorting Hat.
"I'm the escort," the Sorting Hat replied.
"The Hat was Mum's idea, not mine," Quintin said evenly.
"Well, I don't know what Professor Craw had in mind when she gave you that Hat, but I'm pretty sure it didn't have to do with coming all the way down here, especially since I know for a fact that Anna had a living, breathing escort in mind, not a frumpy magic Hat."
"Not you too!" the Sorting Hat huffed indignantly.
"Well, you're here, Uncle Sirius, so why don't you escort us up?" Quintin suggested unabashedly. "We need to meet up with Truman. He's waiting for us below the Fluffy Room."
"What? As cold as it is in the lower Guard Tower? Come on," Sirius said with exasperation, leading them out. "Jack, what are you doing here? Quintin and Jeremy may have some insane privileges in this castle, but I don't see what you have to do with it, or how it's any of your business."
"They'd have gotten lost down here if it wasn't for me," Jack boasted.
"Then they probably would have backtracked and found an escort a lot sooner," Sirius replied.
"I was just trying to help," Jack replied.
"He's been helping a lot," Jeremy offered.
"Especially since they don't know all the spells they need to check over Items thoroughly when they do find what they're looking for," Jack added.
"All the more reason to get adult help, but I still don't hear what's in this for you," Sirius said suspiciously, glancing over his shoulder at his grandson.
"Well, Quintin and Jeremy are in the Order of the Owls with me," Jack reasoned. "So I thought it'd be a good Owl goal to help them with their research... as a side goal to helping their house get started," he improvised. "Besides, I think what they're doing is really important."
"Finding a name?" Sirius asked skeptically.
"No, I mean... researching the founders and their apprentices, and what really happened back then. I know from family history that what's written down isn't the truth, and I want to know what the truth is for myself. Because... well, with all of the opinions I hear inside Slytherin... and then all the opinions I hear outside of it... they're so different that I just want to make up my own mind about it, that's all," Jack finally blurted out. Quintin smiled at Jack and nodded with approval. Sirius sighed.
"Fine, I'll talk to your advisors and parents about it," Sirius replied.
"Boulderdash already knows... so does Dad," Jack said.
"I'll talk to them about it anyway," Sirius said with a dubious smile, leading them out.
When they got back down to the lower level of the Guard Tower, they found Truman was already working on the mirror, and there were several small heating stoves in the room.
"Sorry we kept you waiting, Truman!" Quintin said sincerely as he hurried down the ladder.
"That's quite all right, Quintin. It gave me time to turn this into a Pocket Mirror. I used the room next door as the empty space. Is that alright? It's huge!"
"It's part of the old Armory. Harry calls it the Chess Room," Sirius said. "Apparently this entryway had a huge Devil's Snare living in it for a while, but he's spared us by not naming it... it's just 'the room he fell down in.'
"The Room Harry Fell Down In. We should annex that," Jeremy said mischievously, hopping off the ladder and walking over to where Truman was standing in front of the Mirror, fiddling with a long iron arm he had magically welded on one side.
"I didn't know what size object you were going to bring, so I installed a gripping arm that we can adjust depending on the item and an iron plate we can add in case it's something small item. Did you find what you were looking for?" Truman asked.
"So what is this thing meant to do?" Sirius interrupted.
"Basically, it's like a Pensieve, using the Pocket Mirror and empty space behind it for easier viewing of memory strands attached to items before Pensieves were invented," Truman explained. "It's a simple work-around really, but even so, I'm really eager to test it to see if I got it right."
"We have some dice and some game pieces, and we have to figure out what triggers them," Quintin reported.
"Is there anything you've researched so far that might contain clues to what the right combination is?" Sirius asked.
"Well, O'Laren was a Symbology teacher, so he probably picked something representative," Quintin said. "Professor Weasley told me that his painting actually helped her when she taught that class. They set up a giant chessboard with a missing king and lots of symbology for the number four, representing the four houses, the four schools of magic, and the four sentinels. So maybe it has something to do with that."
"Were there pieces that represented the four apprentices? I'd say it'd be more than likely having to do with that than anything," Jack suggested.
"I don't remember her saying anything about that," Quintin said, while Jeremy was busy flipping through the Dictation Quill notes.
"No, but she did say something about there being four pawns in the middle... three white and a black one," Jeremy said, going through his notes. "She thought it represented students... but aren't apprentices technically students as well?"
"Let's try it," Quintin decided, studying the strange pieces carefully before fishing four of the smaller ones out, three ivory and one ebony.
Truman swiveled plate around on the iron arm so that it could be used, and Quintin set the four pieces against each other back to back in the tray. When nothing happened right away, Quintin frowned, wondering if they were going to need to find a game board as well. But before he could voice his concern, the four pieces faintly began to glow.
"Keep touching the tops of them, Quintin. It's going to need a mind to connect to invoke the memory... the arm should be able to hold it after it's fully summoned and transfer it to the Pocket Mirror," Truman instructed. Quintin did as he was told, gently resting his hand on top so that he didn't accidentally topple one over.
A bright light flashed under his hand, and for a moment, Quintin felt as if he was struggling to remember something and couldn't quite get manage it. Then he watched a spark and a flash as the light under his hand traveled up the iron arm and into the mirror, causing it to fog over and swirl like the surface of a Pensieve, the haze slowly lifting.
"It looks like you got it," Jeremy said as the image of a wizard's hands appeared. The hands were tediously working on a vellum book in front of them, making each slow stroke of his quill with great care. "What language is that in?" he asked after a moment.
"Old English," Sirius replied.
"That's English?" Jeremy gawked. "I don't even recognize half the letters! Is the memory going to be in Old English as well?"
"O'Laren may have compensated for that, since he meant this memory to be seen by wizards other than himself. The only way we'll know if he took that into consideration is to interact with it," Sirius explained. He experimentally put his hand inside, watching it disappear into the fog. "It seems to be working correctly," he confirmed.
"If the connection breaks, you should just end up in the room next door, since it's really just an illusion to help you experience it full on," Truman said. "But I'll stay on this side to monitor and make sure this device keeps working properly."
"Alright, allow me," Sirius said, and stepped into the mirror. Jack strode in next, followed by Quintin and Jeremy, shifting so they could all see what was going on.
They were standing in an unfamiliar room of the castle where morning light was streaming in from the windows so brightly that it took a moment to adjust after the dark room they had just stepped out of. There were two rows of wooden writing desks, generously spaced with plenty of room to walk through them, facing sideways and slightly angled to take advantage of the morning light. The far wall was filled with parchment, leather, scrolls, and ink, with a separate book case with books on top and giant scrolls piled on the bottom.
"Is this still in Hogwarts castle? I've never been in here before," Jeremy asked.
"It doesn't look familiar to me at all! I don't think I've ever been in here either," Quintin admitted.
"Me either," Jack said.
"I have," Sirius said, glancing out the window. "We're in the Scribe's Quarter, it's a set of rooms above the Service Room. It once served as part of the monastery in the earliest days of the castle. I remember when James and I came up here to map it... none of these rooms have been used since the invention of the printing press. Before that, they used to write instruction books for students here."
"I see, so O'Laren is writing one of his books. But what's so important about that?" Jack asked, reading over Bedivere's shoulder. "At least I can understand it now. It seems to be in proper English."
"Good, then he must have put a translation charm on the memory strand," Sirius said. He looked up when someone else stepped into the room.
It was Icarus Ravenclaw, in the flesh as none of them had never seen him before, with his dark hair neatly tied behind him and his robes in regular order instead of with stained splashes and dark patches of poison and blood. The stains had always been there, but strangely enough, Quintin had never really noticed them before; it was only in their absence that Quintin realized they were the outward symbols of Ick's condemned soul.
"Good morning, my friend. Did you sleep well?" Bedivere asked.
"No, not much at all, really," Icarus murmured, his voice soft and more diminutive than what Quintin was used to. "No Sleeping Potion I have ever tried is enough to combat the night horrors when I have them, and any drink but water makes them worse instead of better. It's so bright in here! Can we not meet somewhere else?" Icarus pleaded irritably.
"You need a bit of sun in your life, Icarus," Bedivere said.
"I get enough when I go out to check on my birds... I worry about them constantly. That bird bath won't stay in the back garden forever, you know. They'll replace it with a menacing tree in the days of Slytherin's Heir."
"There's always the courtyard fountain," Bedivere suggested.
"They don't really take care of that fountain either," Icarus murmured. "It'll be destroyed someday too. I don't know why."
"Perhaps the children of Ravenclaw will like birds and bring it back," Bedivere suggested. "You promised you'd tell me more today... about the child both fair and dark... or perhaps the sun child? Tell me more about her," Bedivere coaxed. "Or maybe the coming of Merlin... shall we talk of that?"
"What is the use of talking of any of it, when Slytherin's Heir will make certain that none of that will come to pass?" Icarus snapped.
"But how can that be?" Bedivere challenged him. "If both are memories and memories must come to pass as you have told us, then how can he stop it?"
"I don't know... I don't know, but he does have that power!" Icarus shouted at him, his eye fiery and strange. "Nothing we can do is going to stop him! Nothing at all!" he insisted, crouching down and huddling in the only shadow he could find. "The brighter days beyond are nothing more than a fantasy... perhaps they aren't even memories!"
"That sounds like your father speaking. Did you tell him about these other memories of yours?" Bedivere asked.
"No... no... I won't... but they can't come to pass," Icarus said, burying his face in his arms.
Bedivere sighed, putting down his quill. He picked up a silk fan, murmuring a spell so that it would keep drying the ink in front of him.
Before he could get up, Janus Craw strode in. He had only the hint of a mustache and goatee and was otherwise clean shaven; very different from the haggard beard he had in death. And although his features were a good deal sharper than anyone in Quintin's family, there was still a striking resemblance between Janus and his grandfather. Their eyes and hair were virtually the same, as was that same, serious expression. Janus gave Icarus a cursory glance, unfazed by his state.
"I'm afraid I didn't get very far this morning," Bedivere informed Janus quietly.
"It's not all that surprising. Slytherin didn't let him go until a few hours ago," Janus murmured.
"He was up all night? So his nightmares were..."
"Not the kind he has when he's asleep, no," Janus finished softly. "I wouldn't say he was completely unaware, however... he was able to put part of the plan in order."
"Oh?" Bedivere asked thoughtfully.
"I saw Morlan this morning on his way to his father's office for breakfast," Janus explained quietly. "Salazar is so convinced that Icarus' vision of that Ottoman temple and its Staff of Power is real that he promised to pay for Morlan's expenses if he agreed to find it and bring it to him. Morlan left soon after they spoke to make arrangements."
"So Icarus has sent his half-brother off on a hopeless mission," Bedivere murmured, glancing over at the distraught figure. "No wonder he's such a mess this morning."
"Assuming the visions he's been telling us are true, that is," Janus murmured back.
"They have been so far," Bedivere pointed out.
"Then how do you explain the discrepancy?" Janus asked.
"I don't know, but if Icarus believes Morlan will not return from this quest, he won't," Bedivere said.
"It seems to me, Bedivere, that you like to pick through his memories and choose to believe the ones that suit our purpose," Janus said critically. "I know your job is to help our friend to see more optimism in his future, but that doesn't mean you fall for those lies yourself."
"They're not lies, Janus. It is not folly to see the more hopeful path. On the contrary, it gives us something to work towards, and to help make come to pass," Bedivere argued quietly back. "Better that than to stay on a path of destruction and despair."
"In the end, all things are destroyed, Bedivere. To believe otherwise is foolish," Janus grunted.
"That is your master talking," Bedivere warned him sternly. "If creation wasn't the stronger force, then why does life exist?"
"To torture us, for God only knows what reason," Janus said curtly, glancing up when he heard footsteps.
There was a very loud knock on the open door; an attempt, no doubt, to break Icarus out of his despair. Caprica came in with a large tray.
"Bedivere! I bring your breakfast! And look, I have enough for all, if anyone else would like some. Warm bread, nut cakes, butter and cheese... I made the cheese myself. And I have cider, mead, and water fresh from the mountains... Ick, please have some. Medicine be thy food," Caprica told him, holding a piece of bread in front of his nose and refusing to give up until he finally reached up and took it. "There we are! May I put this on your desk, Beddie?"
"Don't call me that. Only Gryffindor calls me that," Bedivere scolded her.
"The only reason he gets away with it is because you don't want to confront him about it," Caprica teased him, putting the bread on the table. "I just saw Morlan in the kitchen. I hear he's going to sea on a quest in short order! One less thing to worry about, isn't that right, Ick?" she asked him.
"I'm never going to see him again," Ick said distantly, then slowly got up. "I think I will see him off."
"What? Are you mad? He hates you," Janus said in surprise.
"It doesn't matter. I don't hate my brother in return. I will see him off whether he appreciates my presence or not," Icarus said solemnly.
"Fine, but I'm going with you," Janus said, then glanced at the other two. "I'll be back."
"Of course," Bedivere nodded solemnly, watching as Janus escorted Icarus out.
"Do you think this plan is going to work?" Caprica asked Bedivere once they were gone.
"In a way, I hope it doesn't," Bedivere admitted.
Caprica turned and stared at him.
"You're not serious, are you? After everything we've done so far?" Caprica asked, attempting to make sense of it. "Is it because you're worried about how Slytherin's going to react if the visions change all of the sudden?"
"No, it isn't that, although I agree such a situation would put Icarus in great peril," Bedivere replied. "It is about the task that you gave me, Caprica. The one to help Icarus see past the evil of Slytherin's heir."
"With mixed results, it would seem," Caprica said, frowning at the doorway again, but Bedivere shook his head.
"It has been helping, Caprica. In truth, it has been helping both of us," Bedivere replied. Caprica glanced over at him curiously, and Bedivere folded his hands on his desk. "You see, all of the memories of the Ravenclaw heirs I have been asking him about come from the time after Slytherin's heir."
"I know, that was the whole point, to show him that life would continue past all of the evil he had witnessed," Caprica said impatiently.
"Which is why I agreed that it would be wise for him to remember them... so that we can give him hope that Slytherin's plan would fail, and show that the school would continue beyond those troubled times," Bedivere agreed solemnly. "I myself have grown fond of his telling of those happier memories, Caprica, of his memories of the little painter girl and the rising sun. I love the stories of the Sentinels fulfilling their destiny and bringing Merlin home, and hearing about all of the bright children he describes having tea with... although damned if I know how that could possibly be, unless it is from the eyes of another relative he's not aware of."
"Perhaps he is imagining it," Caprica suggested reluctantly.
"No, not at all. I believe every story is a sincere memory of one kind or another, which is exactly why I am deeply concerned with this plan of attempting to stop it from happening altogether," Bedivere said. "All of the things we have done until this point has been precautionary and proactive... from Janus' secret room to our contributions to that room by supplying both items and advice. I agree with all of those things. I was more reluctant to agree to giving Icarus' family your special tea to insure that Cynuise and his children would bare no more heirs, but I did so for their sake, considering the dark deed that Icarus was debating," he said. Caprica nodded somberly at that. "But that was the only reason I went along with the plan, and sending Morlan away saves the school so much grief that I do not question it either. Even so, I do not think it will stop the heir's future appearance, nor should we do any more to try to stop it. It is time to let the matter be and not pursue his destruction by sabotage any further. Rather, we should concentrate on helping his enemies defeat him so they can survive it and live to see their better future."
"I'm not planning on sending assassins after Morlan, if that's what you're afraid of," Caprica said with amusement. "Not even Janus would do that... mostly to save his own hide, of course, but that's not the point. I don't think you need to worry about any of us going too far."
"It isn't you that I'm worried about," Bedivere admitted. "I am worried about us unintentionally damaging those brighter memories. Consider the fact that all of those memories came after the evil reign of Slytherin's heir... after those terrible events when those fiends will reap the earth and feed off off the evil lurking within wizards' hearts. If we should stop him from rising... rather, if we spare them from hardship and grief, is it worth the risk? The future will take a different road... a gentler road perhaps, but one that would lead Hogwarts away from all of the good memories that Icarus has witnessed after that defeat. Yes, they will experience great hardship, much more than they deserve. But what would the cost be for not facing the Heir at all? What sort of price would that exact? Would the children Icarus has told me stories about even be born?"
"We have no way of knowing!" Caprica protested.
"Yes, you are right," Bedivere agreed solemnly. "Which is exactly why I believe that the price is too high. You of all people know better than to gamble when you have no understanding of what the stakes are. I would not take such a wager as this. I suppose you have to decide for yourself whether it is too great a risk for you or not." Caprica glowered at him darkly, going over to the window.
"I hate you," Caprica said flatly.
"You do not," Bedivere said, distractedly looking over his work. "You simply do not wish to acknowledge my argument. All we know for certain is that Icarus believes that dark times will come, but beyond those times, there is potential for this school to prosper. His visions are all we have to go on... we do not know the alternatives. Yet suffering is a part of life for everyone, whether we want to experience hardship or not. It is a part of growth. It is adversity which either defeats us or pushes us to become stronger and wiser. We must have faith, Caprica, faith in Icarus and his visions... faith that our gifts to this school will not go unused, and that Slytherin will not succeed in using this school for his benefit alone. Instead, this school must grow to benefit its students, as was originally intended when the four of them first decided to build this school."
"I'd very much rather just skip the suffering part, thank you. I'm not doing it just to help Icarus' suffering, you know. I don't want Slytherin to manipulate the future and cause suffering down the line, no matter how many generations will have passed by then!" Caprica snapped.
"I understand how you feel, Caprica. But this is very much like what one goes through preparing for a battle," Bedivere explained. "You hear the messengers warn that the enemy approaching, and you have no choice but to prepare for the conflict. You know there will be deaths... perhaps even your own... but it is too late to do anything but let it play out and hope to be victorious... or at the very least, to live another day. Perhaps the defeat of your enemy leads to greater security in your own kingdom and it becomes more prosperous, insuring that your children are happy and well fed, never knowing war themselves," he said with a smile. "I, like you, do not have a taste for war. I've only gone to serve Master Gryffindor, to help see to his needs and to help keep him safe by being his second eyes and ears. But when one is already on the battlefield, there is only so much someone can do to stop it, after all. Let us not overstep our bounds, Caprica. Instead, let's leave our messages of warning, and then concentrate on saving our friend from his mental ordeals since he is close at hand, as well as saving his family from further ordeal."
"Fine, I'll help you convince Icarus that we've done enough to try to stop future events from happening altogether," Caprica agreed with a sigh. "But I still hope Morlan dies on campaign like Icarus predicted, so that he can get some relief from what he's been going through."
"Even at the price of the school's future?" O'Laren inquired.
"Certainly not. I plan to stay here and teach for as long as it takes to get this school on surer footing," Caprica said resolutely. "I don't care if the founders are having regrets or not. I'll be damned if I see this castle crumble after everything we've done to get it up and running. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll all leave the school to do something else, so we'll finally be able to run things without the back and forth squabbling that's been tearing this school apart. How in the hell is anyone suppose to learn anything when everyone is at each other's throats all the time?"
"Perhaps we should have the students wear charmed collars to protect themselves," O'Laren joked. Caprica shook her head at him, grabbing herself a drink.
The fog rolled in as the memory faded. It was then that everyone realized how quiet it was. Sirius walked towards the densest patch of the fog, and the students followed him out of the Mirror.
"It seems to have worked well," Truman suggested hopefully when no one said anything at first.
"As well as a Pensieve," Quintin reassured him. "Thanks."
"Happy to help," Truman replied with a smile.
"I can't help but wonder about something," Jack said. It felt strangely awkward to speak. "Why do you suppose O'Laren chose that particular memory to save? I mean, they talked about sending messages and advice, but there wasn't any real advice in that memory at all."
"I think this is O'Laren's way of sending us an explanatory note," Jeremy said, then glanced at Quintin. "It's like the one that Caprica left in front of the Hogwarts rules and regulations, explaining where the rules came from and how they weren't all her doing. But in this case, it was Bedivere's way of explaining why they made the decisions that they did... and why they didn't do anything more extreme to insure that Voldemort didn't happen."
"That wasn't an explanation. It was an apology," Sirius said, his voice a strangely coarse. He frowned at the dice. "How about we wait and throw the dice later? We have enough to process at the moment."
"You're right. I have a lot to write down," Jeremy agreed.
"Anna and Ambrose are coming to help us tomorrow morning," Quintin offered.
"Fine. I'll see you then," Sirius replied, climbing up the ladder.
"Shall we go have lunch?" Quintin suggested.
"As long as it's somewhere warm," Truman said.
"Let's head to my room, so I can take the Hat off while we eat. I don't feel comfortable setting him down just anywhere," Quintin suggested. Truman secured his device and Quintin put the memory items safely inside a Puzzle Box, putting it back in his Chest Cloak. Then the students all went back up the ladder.
As they cut through the common room, Jack and Truman looked around curiously.
"What are they doing in here?" Pete asked, frowning at Jack. "You're not in this house."
"We're just cutting through, Pete. My room isn't technically in the Guard Wing, and going this way is closer."
"Nice common room," Jack offered.
"Lovely," Truman added. The two of them quickly followed Quintin and Jeremy into the back and into his room.
"I don't suppose we could go out the other way?" Jack suggested.
"Don't worry, Jack, he was just surprised. I don't think anyone minded. Give me a moment so I can ask Maisy to send some lunch up," Quintin said, stepping through the other doorway.
By the time he was back, there was a lunch tray on a small wooden table and chairs for all four of them. Quintin put the Sorting Hat on his desk, relieved to be able to take it off for a while. Jeremy was too busy writing in his journal to pay attention to his lunch, not even looking up when Truman called his attention to it.
"Don't bother him, he's trying to get it all down before he forgets any details. I did the same thing after seeing Aunt Anna's memory the other night, and that memory was a lot shorter than this one," Quintin replied.
"So what all did you learn?" Truman asked curiously.
"Well, the main thing we learned was that although they took a couple of steps to try and prevent Voldemort's birth before it happened, Dusthorn and O'Laren stopped short of insuring it by committing familicide," Quintin said.
"But didn't Ravenclaw end up doing it anyway?" Truman asked. "Isn't that why he's eternally condemned at all?"
"We don't think he was in his right mind when he did that," Quintin admitted. "Even during this encounter, he wasn't doing very well."
"He said he didn't get sleep because of the nightmares," Jeremy stated, taking a quick pause from his writing. "But that made no sense when he first said it, because I was wondering how he could still have nightmares when he didn't get any sleep... that is, until Janus came in and explained that he'd been awake and with his father all night, recounting memories of Voldemort for him."
"That's horrible!" Truman exclaimed. "The poor guy, forced to recount those evil memories over and over again."
"It's more than just recounting," Quintin said. "It's not like us standing in the Pensieve and watching things from a third person. Ick has told me before that his memories were either memories out of his own eyes or the eyes of his ancestors."
"So those nightmares he's having is actually him remembering events Voldemort as if he'd done them all himself," Jeremy murmured. Quintin nodded somberly. "No wonder he went completely insane... and his own father helped to push him over the edge!"
"Are you alright, Jack?" Quintin suddenly asked with alarm after reading Jack's expression. That was when the other boys realized how quiet Jack had gotten and looked over with concern as well.
"I'm just trying to process it all... like grandfather is, I think," Jack replied, then noticed how carefully Quintin was studying him. "Um... no offense meant, Quintin, but I think I'd like to work out how I'm feeling on my own for a bit. Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow morning. I'm curious to see what Caprica's memory is too."
"Alright. Come by after breakfast," Quintin said.
"I'll be here," Jack promised. "Can I cut through the nursery?"
"Sure, you're family," Quintin agreed. Jack smiled, stepping through the door.
"Is he really alright, Quintin? I know you must have seen something to have called him out like that," Jeremy asked.
"He's just got a lot of hard questions to ask himself right now," Quintin said carefully.
"Is that why your uncle left like that as well?" he wondered.
"Yeah. Yeah, it was," Quintin confirmed.
Anna had been expecting Sirius to come in well after dinner that night, knowing that he had a long duty list on the board that weekend. But when she sensed his present in the house, she took a break from marking up her students' essays, frowning about how strange he felt. It had been many years since she had felt him quite that off, she realized, setting her pen aside before stepping out into the corridor. It only took a moment for her to sense that he was in Samantha's room. She peered inside and saw him watching her sleep, the small red night candle illuminating one side of his distant expression.
"You okay?" Anna whispered softly.
Sirius almost lazily put out an arm over the chair. As Anna walked over, and he drew her closer.
"She's the best, isn't she?" Sirius murmured.
"You only think so because you didn't have to go to the daycare today and help Molly Weasley get treacle out her hair when she and Elinor got into a fight at lunch," Anna replied evenly. Sirius snorted softly, giving her half a smile.
"She's a Black," Sirius replied.
"That doesn't mean I want her turning her hair that color. Even magic didn't take it out completely, so I just gave up and cut it. Is it terrible?" Anna asked.
"I don't know what it looks like when it's neat, but right now, it's quite alright... and probably more manageable," he added diplomatically.
"Something's bothering you, though," Anna said evenly.
"Just trying to wrap my head around something... let's discuss it in the other room," Sirius decided quietly, kissing the little girl on her forehead and standing up.
He waited so that Anna could try to cover an escaped foot that would inevitably work its way back out again the moment they left. Then Sirius led them into their room, automatically tending to the fire while Anna sat on the sofa next to it.
"While you were out with your majors taking care of the Muggle farm this morning, I decided to keep an eye on those new house kids to see what they were up to, especially since I knew that Severus and Jennifer were out of the castle this weekend. For some reason, I highly doubted that they would keep things to book research."
"I take it they didn't," Anna said.
"Not by any stretch of the imagination. I found Jack, Jeremy, and Quintin down in the deepest part of the Memoriatorium, and Quintin had the Sorting Hat on his head."
"Oh, the Hat was Jennifer's idea. She wanted to use the Sorting Hat to keep an eye on things while she was out of the building," Anna said.
"Well, he makes for a good spy, I suppose, but it's not like he could stop them from getting into things," Sirius said. "Apparently, Quintin figured out that Caprica and Bedivere stored some memories down there, and triggered an alarm attempting to get take them out of the area. I escorted them back to find Truman was down the ladder and had rigged up a Pocket Mirror to act as Pensieve work-around so that they could witness the memory together."
"Clever," Anna decided. "What were the memories about?"
"They only explored one today... one of Bedivere O'Laren's. I asked them to wait until tomorrow on the other one," Sirius replied, pulling off the log glove and tossing it back on its shelf. "The memory was a sort of confession... an explanation as to why Bedivere wanted Voldemort to happen."
"Wait, what?" Anna said in confusion. "That doesn't make sense. Bedivere is the Sentinel of Light. Why would he want it to happen? And didn't they do a whole bunch of things to try to stop it?"
"Icarus used his visions to make Salazar believe that sending his son Morlan on a wild goose chase for a powerful staff was something beneficial to him. Salazar's greed for gaining more power alone was enough to send Morlan out of the castle. Icarus confirmed that his brother was destined to leave Hogwarts, but didn't tell Salazar that he saw his brother dying on the trip," Sirius said.
"Yes, I knew that already, Ick's mentioned it before. But he hadn't known that his brother had sown some oats during his quest and had a son before he died," Anna replied.
"Caprica and Bedivere's conversation revealed that even though Morlan left, there was still a chance that wouldn't be enough. But they didn't want to stoop to murdering him to insure it, especially since Slytherin would have found out about it, just as easily as he would have heard about them using some potion to try to sterilize Morlan like they had Ick's family. It'd have been their deaths either way," Sirius reasoned. "But that was only part of the reason why they didn't go further to insure Morlan's timely death. The other reason was because of Alicia and Dawn."
"What?" Anna asked in confusion.
"Apparently Bedivere was attempting to counter the mental damage Slytherin was doing to Icarus by getting him to focus on positive events after the time of Voldemort, using Icarus' connection to the Ravenclaw line to extend his visions past it," Sirius explained.
"So that's why Icarus has always remembered Alicia and Dawn so vividly," Anna said with interest, and Sirius nodded. Anna pondered that. "I wonder why Bedivere went that far into the future? Why didn't they concentrate on Jennifer, considering she was involved in his defeat?"
"That really would have pushed him over the edge. He's sees through his descendent's eyes like he's experiencing those events himself. Do you realize what kind of shit Jennifer's been through? Nearly dying, being tortured, god knows what else..."
"Good point," Anna interrupted. "You're right, it makes sense he'd want to skip that bit. The worst Alicia's done is danced with vampires a bit too closely... and so far, Dawn's had a pretty uneventful life."
"Don't hold your breath, especially since she can jump paintings like the rest of them can," Sirius said. "Which brings me back to my point. After Bedivere found those happier memories for Icarus to reflect on, he must have been working with Icarus every day to try and get him to a better mental state... possibly for hours and hours on the days after his father tortured him with Voldemort's thoughts all night," Sirius said, pacing. "Bedivere got to know Alicia and Dawn almost as much as Ick did, listening to stories about them and encouraging Icarus to remember more. In the process, not only did Bedivere himself get attached to them, but somewhere along the way, he realized that stopping Voldemort by preventing him to exist in the first place would also cause everything that happened after the Terrors to cease to exist. He began to fear that Alicia and Dawn wouldn't be born."
"The Butterfly Effect," Anna murmured, sitting on the bed and thinking about it quietly as she watched him pace. "I think Bedivere had a point. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I believe that they wouldn't have been born, would they? Voldemort wouldn't have been there to cause Thomas and Alice to flee in the first place... or would they have fled for some other reason? If her mother had survived, Jennifer would probably have stayed in France... what would Severus even be like, without all of the trials he went through? Things just start to unravel the more I think about it... but then again, who's to say things wouldn't have been better the other way, even if the apprentices didn't know what was coming next?"
"Exactly! Who's to say?" Sirius repeated, pushing his hair back in agitation. "Don't get me wrong, I understand his reasons. And not only that, I respect the decision on an intellectual level. Faced with an unknown versus knowing that Hogwarts and our society would eventually come out of it, I would have done the same thing myself," Sirius decided. "But the moment I stepped out of that mirror, I felt myself boiling over with anger. I went off to find the most mind-numbing tasks on the maintenance list I could find to try and burn it off. After everything I went through in Azkaban... after what happened to Lily and James... and after what everyone else had been forced to go through! So many deaths. So many who survived the Terrors came out scarred, struggling to break free like I had.
"As I listened to them debate whether or not they should even attempt to stop it from happening, my anger nearly sent me into a blind rage, so I decided that the best thing to do was just walk away from it. I kept my feelings to myself and went back to work, telling myself how much I also benefited from their decision to not cross the line. That's when I made the decision that when I came home for the night, I would walk straight into Samantha's room and watch her sleep... to remind myself that I have every reason to be grateful for that decision," Sirius finished, brooding as he stared at the fireplace.
Anna sighed silently and got up again, giving him a hug that was immediately returned.
"You didn't open a bottle because of this, did you?" Anna asked him bluntly.
"No, but I can't say I haven't thought about it," Sirius admitted.
"Pot of hot water and some tanna?" she suggested.
"Good idea," Sirius said grumpily.
"I love you," Anna informed him sincerely. "And I think you're almost at the point where you love you too."
"Well, not quite, but still working on it," Sirius reassured her gruffly. Anna smiled, kissing him and giving him another hug.