Rachel was a little surprised not to be called to an attack on Halloween night, but the beta team responded to one large attack and Rachel's team wasn't summoned at all. She spent Sunday regrouping. They had lunch with Sirius and Remus as a group, and then she, Hermione, and Millie all went to their parents for dinner while leaving the boys to fend for themselves. They spent the evening working on individual projects while hanging out in the sitting room.
On the nights Rachel was on call she slept in her trousers and a shirt, leaving her MLE robes draped over her desk chair so she could easily grab them and leave when she received the message to go. It usually took her until two or three in the morning to fall asleep on those nights, so she had become accustomed to sitting up while working on a project. She had mastered the light orb spell wandlessly, though she hadn't shown that off to her friends yet. Next was the Hover charm, since that was useful for moving heavy things, and she thought after that she'd learn the spells she needed to charm her potions equipment and possibly a shrinking and engorgement charm.
Her book projects were moving slowly, as was her sleeping potion research, but she thought that was only to be expected. They were big projects and she didn't get to spend much time on them during the day. She now had a full outline for her book for muggleborns and their families and was writing the sections she could do with minimal research. She was hoping to visit the magical library in London soon. Perhaps they could make that a weekend outing the next time she didn't have a Wizengamot meeting or Quidditch game on Saturday.
She was in the middle of paragraph when Tonks' jack rabbit Patronus hopped through the wall. "Reports of a home being attacked. Apparate to forty four Moorhall, Bakewell. Wait for the team before approaching the fight," came Tonks' voice.
Rachel pulled her wand as she wondered if she could learn the Patronus charm wandlessly. "To Draco Malfoy. Attack reported. Apparate to forty four Moorhall, Bakewell. Wait for the team." She waited while her Patronus trotted away and then recast it and sent the message to Miles.
She could feel her heart beating faster as she put on her MLE robes. Now was the time to finally see if she'd been right about joining the aurors. She bid goodbye to Feverfew, who had been watching her intently, and carefully made her way downstairs while trying not to wake anyone. It was a relief to not share a dorm room and have to worry about keeping people awake.
Draco joined her in the hallway a moment later, his hair tousled and his MLE robes hanging open. "This is it," he said quietly.
Rachel nodded. "Ready?"
"Hope so," he said. "See you there."
She gripped her wand, holding it so she could cast immediately after apparating and apparated to the address. She blinked a few times in the darkness and added a privacy ward to the list of spells she wanted to learn wandlessly. "Draco?" she whispered.
"Right here," he whispered back.
"Form up with your partners. We're heading down the road as soon as everyone is here," Tonks whispered.
Now that her eyes had adjusted a little, she made her way to Tonks' side and looked around. They were in what looked like a country neighborhood with houses set well off the road.
A few moments later everyone was gathered in a small circle.
"Use the Muffling charm to mask our approach," Tonks instructed. "Johansen, take Bletchley around the back. The rest of us are coming from the road. Remember: stun, then the Incarcerous spell. We want to take as many of them with us as we can. Expect to dodge the Killing Curse. Let's go."
Rachel silently cast the Muffling charm on herself and they snuck up the road. She saw Johansen and Miles break away with their partners, leaving six of them heading down the road. Finally, in the moonlight, Rachel saw the Death Eaters. There were seven of them, and it looked like one was working on pulling down the wards while the others were waiting to attack. That meant Rookwood wasn't with the group - the wards would be down by now if that was the case.
Tonks motioned for them to stop and spread out, and then the fight began.
They took three of them with the Stunning spell before the Death Eaters started to fight back. Rachel hit another and then ducked as the Killing Curse was sent in her direction. She went down on one knee and continued to cast, watching as the Death Eaters revived each other.
Another two went down, which meant Miles and Johansen had reached the other side. Rachel managed to hit one of them with the Incarcerous spell. She could feel herself sweating as she worked despite the cool November air. She forced a Death Eater's shield to drop and then Tonks stunned them. Rachel followed up with the Incarcerous spell again.
The Death Eaters apparated away and the night was suddenly still again.
Rachel exhaled. That hadn't been so bad. She was positive that none of the Death Eaters had even gotten close enough to know who she was.
"Let's go see what we've got. Keep your guard up," Tonks said.
Rachel stood and followed her over to the Death Eaters. There were three on the ground, all of them stunned and tied up. The rest of the team approached.
Johansen looked around. "I don't think any of the muggles noticed us. We're clear. Anyone hurt?"
Everyone indicated they weren't, which was a relief.
Tonks bent down and pulled the masks of the Death Eaters. "No one I recognize. Anyone?"
Draco moved closer to look and shook his head. "No one I know either."
"Guess we'll see who they are when they wake up. Bletchley, Tonks, and myself will take the prisoners back to the MLE and file their arrests. The rest of you are dismissed for the night. We'll break down what happened when we meet in the morning," Johansen said.
Rachel moved to Draco and Ron. "Alright?" she asked them.
Ron wiped his forehead. "Not bad. Easier than the training drills."
"For these people. Some Death Eaters will be more difficult. Wonder who they were attacking," Draco said, looking at the house.
Rachel shrugged. "Based on who they've attacked so far, muggleborns would be my guess. We'll see you in a few hours," she told Ron.
Ron moaned. "I'm going back to bed."
"Me too," Draco said.
Rachel apparated back into the main hallway and found Draco arriving just ahead of her. "I think we can actually do this."
"Yeah, I think we can," he said, looking thoughtful in the light from the window. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she said.
They went upstairs and Rachel went back into her bedroom and checked her watch. They hadn't even been gone for thirty minutes. She pet Feverfew, took off her robes and her shoes, and then climbed into bed fully dressed. She could deal with fresh clothes and a shower in the morning.
Rachel sat in her private office on Wednesday. She had pulled up her legs onto her chair with her and was rolling her quill between her forefinger and thumb. The more she read about Azkaban the more horrified she became. As far as she could tell it wasn't anything more than a combination of a place for people to be sent to when they were inconvenient to the law and a government sanctioned torture and murder chamber. Hundreds and hundreds of people had died before they ever finished their sentence and hundreds and hundreds more had been sentenced there for the rest of their lives.
She had also stumbled upon another problem in her quest to end Azkaban: what became of the Dementors afterward?
At some point her research needed to extend to the Dementors themselves. Where did they come from? How sentient were they? Could they be released without them feeding on the population at large? If not, what were their other options?
Relocation seemed out of the question. Imprisoning them and leaving them to starve to death seemed wrong. Killing all of them directly seemed like genocide. That wasn't even approaching the problem of how they could be killed other than starvation and old age. There had to be a solution somewhere that wasn't hurting anyone, but she needed to understand better than she did now before she tried to posit solutions.
She thought she knew one thing for certain. If her efforts to stop Azkaban didn't work and there was no path forward, she was resigning her seat on the Wizengamot. She wouldn't continue to be a party to sentencing people to Azkaban. She would make sure everyone understood why she was doing it and her thoughts on the subject matter too. In general she didn't like using her fame for anything - she just wanted people to respond to who she was, not what they knew about her from the newspaper - but if she could impress upon people how important this was, maybe it would help things change.
Yawning, she flipped through her research again. She was just about finished with this decade, and then she'd take the records for the 1860s. This whole project was a massive headache, but it was the most important thing she was doing. Her project on sleeping potions had the potential to affect many more people, but her Azkaban project might save some people's lives and sanities.
There was a knock on her door, which meant it was either Booker or Tonks, since they were the only ones who could get in her outer office. "Come in," she called.
Booker entered and glanced at the project on her desk. "More statistics?"
"Yes, I think they will help. I don't think anyone - even the Wizengamot - really understands what is happening in Azkaban."
"You do realize that the MLE sees these reports, and they are reported to the Minister as well?" Booker asked.
"But are they looking at it as a big picture? Or are they just looking at the last month? Or the last year? Or the last five years? Because even a decade doesn't really show what is happening at Azkaban. Look at this. Five premature deaths in the first quarter of 1858, here the term premature meaning before they finished their sentence, not in consideration with the average lifespan of a witch or wizard. So what, right? What does that tell you other than five convicted prisoners died. It's not that meaningful in the long run. No one is mourning those deaths except perhaps their families and maybe not even them."
"Alright," Booker said.
"Then look at how many people were sentenced to Azkaban in the same quarter. There were three five year sentences, two twenty year sentences, and one life sentence. Six people entered Azkaban while five people left through dying and no one was released," she continued, pointing to another sheet of parchment.
Booker nodded. "So the population of Azkaban does not change significantly, which we do know."
"We do know that. But that trend repeats quarter after quarter, year after year, decade after decade. On average for sixty two percent of people with a twenty year sentence, they die instead of being released. Thirty seven percent of people with a five year sentence die in Azkaban. I hold that anyone being in Azkaban is wrong, but I think at the very least to begin with, the Wizengamot and the MLE need to acknowledge that when they give someone a sentence, more often than not it's a death sentence," she said firmly.
He watched her for a long moment. "Are you certain those numbers are right?"
"I know how to calculate a percentage and how to count, that's all you need for this." She valiantly did not point out that she'd done a NEWT in Arithmancy and was very well acquainted with doing math with a quill instead of a calculator. Then again, Booker was a pureblood, he might have never used a calculator.
"I'll admit that is concerning. Have you noticed that trend changing over the years? Are things growing worse or better?" he asked.
"Well," she said, frowning as she thought of the various ways to answer that question. "I mean, better in what we're willing to send people to prison for. As far as I'm aware the Wizengamot doesn't send people who commit adultery to prison anymore?"
"No, they certainly don't," he agreed.
"But as far as the numbers go so far, the death rate is staying mostly the same. The number of deaths go up and down, as sometimes there is a swell in the number of people who are sentenced to Azkaban, just like we're experiencing right now, but the percentages don't vary much. Why aren't people talking about this? Why don't people care? I don't understand."
Booker sat down across from her and looked like he was debating with himself. "They're ashamed. And afraid."
"Ashamed of what?" Rachel asked, feeling her brow furrow.
"People do not like to talk of Azkaban or the people in Azkaban. Committing crime is something that is considered shameful and for the most part, people like to pretend it doesn't happen. And if it does happen, it doesn't happen to them or the people they care about. Many victims of crime never come forward, because of the stigma. Many families of criminals will refuse to show up at the trial. Often they will pretend that person is not part of their family or that the family member has left for another country. No one wants to know someone who was in Azkaban. Most of the people who finish their sentences and leave Azkaban never speak of it," he explained.
It was just a new layer of awful on top of the entire situation. How could they fix the problem if no one would acknowledge it existed?
"And when people do speak of those in Azkaban, they say that the prisoners are horrible people who deserve to be there. That's where the fear comes in. If they can cast the prisoners as almost inhuman, they can feel assured they will never go to Azkaban themselves. No one believes themselves to be a horrible person."
"How do people know, then? How does someone know when they're a horrible person?" she asked. It was a question that had come up in her own thoughts many times. How did she know she was doing the right thing? How could she know that she was a good person? If everyone believed themselves to be good people, then where did that leave her?
"I think for the most part, people who are committing horrific acts do not concern themselves with such morality. Look at the Death Eaters we have seen these past two months. Many of them claim to have only acted because You-Know–Who directed them to do so, but we know that is not the full truth. Every Death Eater who joined You-Know-Who knew what they were getting into. They knew what was expected of them before they joined. And they decided they could live with that because it got them something they wanted. I have never heard of a Death Eater turning themselves in out of remorse," Booker said, meeting her eyes and nodding.
Rachel's thoughts strayed to Severus. He had done those things. He had joined the Death Eaters. He had reasons, some of which she fully understood, but he had still done those things. She loved him, just like Pansy loved her mother, even though Pansy's mother had also done some terrible things. She had to think that the difference between them was that Severus had at least tried to make things right, even at significant risk to himself. Nothing would fix the people he had tortured and killed. The only thing he could do was try to do better. And maybe that was the answer for her too. She couldn't do everything perfectly, but she could try each day.
"May I ask you a question?" Booker asked after a very long silence had stretched between them.
"Yes," she said, wondering if he was going to ask her about Severus.
"Why is this issue so important to you? It's becoming clear to me that this is not some fanciful project or something that you're willing to walk away from. Why do you care about the prisoners in Azkaban? Some of them have hurt you. Why do you want to help them?"
"Because I know what it's like," she said, almost without thinking. "Not just being exposed to Dementors. Not just being tortured. But being kept as a prisoner. Knowing I had to get up each morning and not know if I was going to be given food. I was kept locked in a small space and I didn't know when I was going to be let out. The people there could hurt me, just because they wanted to, for no reason at all. I honestly believe that if I had stayed in that house, I would not be alive right now. When Sirius described Azkaban to me, I understood, because that's how I'd lived. I know it wasn't exactly the same, but-" she cut off, surprised to see a tear coming down Booker's face.
He wiped it away without appearing ashamed. "I have a little girl. Viola. You know her. I love her more than anything in this world, even though she occasionally drives me insane. I've read the articles in the paper, of course, but…it hurts me as a father to think of any child living through that. To imagine that any parent or guardian can do that to their own child. You are still very young, Rachel. But I think you will bring great things to our nation, even if our nation is resistant. There will be some people that you can't sway. But I believe that you can reach the people you need to if you are willing to talk with them about why this is important."
Rachel hoped that was true, but she certainly wasn't going to go around talking about her childhood to the Wizengamot. She'd just have to find another way to reach people. "What do you know about Dementors?" she asked, not wanting to go further down the path they'd been walking today.
"Not a lot. I'm not sure anyone gives much thought about Dementors other than wanting them to stay away. Do you want me to look into it?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think there's something like four hundred Dementors at Azkaban. Whatever my plan is for having a prison that doesn't rely on Dementors has to account for them somehow. We're taking away their food source and if that won't cause a problem, I don't know what will."
Booker winced slightly. "That's a fair point. I don't know how to kill a Dementor and I don't know anyone who does."
"I'm not sure killing them is the right answer. I mean, they're just creatures doing what creatures do. We can't punish them for wanting to eat. Every life form wants to eat."
"Unfortunately I cannot think of an ethical source of food for the Dementors. It's not like vampires where we can pay people to donate blood," he said, shrugging ever so slightly.
"Have you ever met a vampire?" she asked.
"No I have not, and you do not want to either. They have an entirely earned reputation. The Ministry does not bother the vampire clan in London, and they do not bother us. We want things to remain at that equilibrium."
Part of Rachel thought that Booker couldn't know that their reputation was earned without at least meeting one, but she was also sensible enough to know that in the magical world, sometimes approaching some magical creatures was an excellent way to achieve a quick - and likely painful - death.
"Oh, the reason I interrupted you. The Minister would like to meet with you tomorrow after you are finished with the MLE. He called it a working lunch. What reply would you like to send?" Booker asked.
"Any idea why he wants me? It's only barely been a week since he had dinner with me."
"I'm not certain what his purpose is. I think you will continue to receive requests from him. You are politically popular and aligning his interests with yours gives a bolster to the image of the Ministry when it badly needs it at the moment."
"I don't see how I can possibly be considered politically popular. You've seen what the newspaper writes about me," she pointed out.
"But you are in the newspaper, which makes you popular. It is less about what they are saying, and more about the fact that they're talking about you. And no one will forget what you did for us. The newspaper may seem ungrateful, but the populace is not. Everyone knows you saved us," he said firmly.
Rachel looked down. She hated when people talked about her that way. She'd almost rather the newspaper slandered her than said that. "I didn't, you know? You know that, right?"
"You did. You sacrificed your life to save the students at the school, my daughter included, and then killed You-Know-Who. The fact that we are not currently on the continent trying to hold together a Ministry in exile is entirely because of you."
She shook his head as he spoke. "I snuck up on the Dark Lord and hit him in the back with the Killing Curse. It wasn't some heroic feat. Professor Dumbledore was the one dueling him with elemental magic and keeping him from massacring the people at Hogwarts."
"Could Professor Dumbledore have defeated him that day? In your honest opinion?" he asked, eyebrows arched.
"No, but not for the reasons you think."
"No is all the answer I need. You killed You-Know-Who. No matter how you did it, even if you had poured poison in his drink, you were the one who saved us. I know that you are a person and that you have done many things besides this, but you cannot deny that you've done this and nor should you try."
Rachel sighed. "I just want people to treat me like they would anyone else."
"And people will, or at least the ones who get to know you will. And I assure you, the day will come when you're arguing in the Wizengamot chambers just like the rest of them. It will be alright," he said, sounding oddly like Severus. "What would you like me to tell the Minister?"
"Does anyone turn down appointments with the Minister?" she asked.
"Generally no, not unless they are on their deathbed."
"Then I guess I'll see him tomorrow for lunch," she said.
"I will let him know and I will see what I can find about Dementors. Anything else?" he asked.
"Not for the moment," she said, looking back at her research.
"I'll leave you be for now then," he said before leaving and pulling the door shut behind him.
Rachel looked over her columns of numbers. She thought Booker was at least partially right. This couldn't just be numbers and statistics. While that was important, it wouldn't really reach most people. This had to be a story. A story about all of the people they were unintentionally condemning to torture and death.
Rachel still didn't like the hallway leading to the Minister's office. She suspected she'd never be able to walk down it without thinking of the massacre she'd seen there. She wondered at how the people who had been in the Ministry on the Sunday when the Dark Lord had died managed it. Seeing those places where people had died, remembering it over and over every day - it just seemed overwhelming to her. She hoped that the Ministry had directed all the survivors to see Mind Healers if they needed it.
There were two members of the MLE patrol standing outside the doors of the Minister's office. "Wizengamot Member Snow here to see Minister Scrimgeour at his invitation," she told him, since that seemed to be the phrasing that people used at the Ministry.
"Let me check to see if the Minister is ready to receive you," the woman said before stepping inside his office through the ornate doors. She returned about a minute later. "You may go in."
"Thank you," Rachel said, and went inside since the woman was holding the door for her. She glanced at the spot where Percy had died, unable to stop herself, and then looked at the Minister. "It's a pleasure to see you, sir."
"Ah, no sir, just Rufus, remember. How are you, Rachel?" the Minister asked, rounding his enormous desk and motioning her over to a table set for a meal.
Rachel still felt uncomfortable calling adults by their first names, especially adults with as much authority as the Minister, Madam Bones, and Professor Dumbledore. "I'm mostly well. I'm relieved that we're almost done with having trials every week. I know there will be more for the people that we capture, but at least they won't be twice a week now."
"That is true, it's a relief for all of us. It's kept our nation focused on the war when we need to be moving toward rebuilding. Come sit, we'll eat while we talk," the Minister said, taking a seat.
Rachel sat down at the round table in the only other seat, directly opposite from the Minister. "What will rebuilding look like?" she asked. As far as she knew, not a lot of infrastructure had been damaged during the war. It was mostly loss of lives, and that wasn't easy to replace. She didn't think the Minister was going to encourage women to become pregnant.
"Part of it will be restaffing vital services. We lost a number of important people and it will take some time to train the replacements. It will take another ten years for us to have the MLE staffed back to pre-war levels. I'm hoping that having a permanent Defense teacher at Hogwarts will encourage more students to take the NEWT."
"Gemma is a great teacher. I think more people will be willing to take the NEWT when they know she is the teacher. She's going to teach the Patronus charm to younger students as well, so hopefully most of the students will have it by the time they go to take their OWLs," she said.
The Minister smiled. "Yes, I've heard of your work with the Patronus charm and with a supplementary Defense organization within the school. Albus tells me that was your doing, not the staff."
"Me and my friends started the club. In secret, actually, while Umbridge was the Defense professor."
He nodded, his smile fading. "I heard all about that. Many things happened under Cornelius's tenure that I would not have permitted. I want you to know that the entire Ministry was not against you and Albus during that time. Amelia and I understood the problem, we simply were not in a position where we could act without losing our positions. It was important for us to remain in the Ministry so we could try to influence things behind the scenes."
Rachel looked away slightly. She did blame Minister Fudge and the Wizengamot for how the start of the war had unfolded. "We can't change the past," she finally said. If he was waiting for absolution from her, he wasn't going to get it.
"No, we can't." They sat quietly for a moment. "What would you like for lunch?"
"I'm not sure what the options are," she said.
"Pretty much anything you can imagine. The House Elves in our kitchen are well versed in cuisine from around the world, as we wish to cater to visiting dignitaries."
Rachel was certain that she shouldn't order fish and chips for a meal with the Minister, but she didn't know what the appropriate thing to order was. "I'll have whatever you're having."
The Minister smiled again and rang a small golden bell.
A House Elf appeared. "What can Tizzy get for you, Minister sir?"
"Two dishes of beef wellington for myself and Rachel. Rachel, would you like wine?" he asked.
"No, thank you." She had yet to find a wine that she found drinkable.
"Chardonnay for me. Rachel?"
"Pumpkin juice?" she asked, not sure what to ask for.
"And pumpkin juice for Rachel," he said.
"Right away, Minister sir," the House Elf said before disappearing. When the House Elf spoke it sounded like 'Minister' and 'sir' were all one word.
Their plates and drinks appeared a moment later. Rachel had a plate of beef wellington, with mashed potatoes and roasted baby carrots for the sides. She had a glass goblet of pumpkin juice while the Minister's goblet was filled with wine.
"There we go. Not as good as Andre's cooking, but you can't have everything," he said.
"Do many magical people become chefs?" Rachel asked, since it wasn't an occupation that Rachel had ever heard of a magical person taking. As far as she knew, people either cooked for themselves or had a House Elf to do it.
"Not many. Mostly only upscale restaurants have human chefs, and even then, the House Elves do the basic work. Andre's mother was a chef, and he wished to follow in her footsteps. He attended Beauxbatons and spent a fair bit of time in the kitchens learning from the House Elves there and teaching them Italian cuisine. I actually was introduced to Andre fifteen years ago when he was starting his restaurant in Diagon Alley. A group of us from the aurors went out to eat after a raid and it was the best food I had ever tasted - apart from my mother's cooking, of course."
"Of course," Rachel said, smiling a little as she began to eat. She'd never had beef wellington before and for a meat based dish it was surprisingly edible.
"Andre had served us that day, and I kept going back, and Andre kept serving me personally. Finally he asked me to come get a drink with him after his shift, and we began to realize how well we got along. Two years later, we were married and living together, though he was the one to propose to me. As he says, I am a little slow about that sort of thing," the Minister said with a fond smile.
"That sounds wonderful," she said, thinking it was strangely sweet for someone who had become a wartime Minister.
"How long have you and Theo been together?"
Rachel felt herself blush. "We're not. We're just close friends. I'm not dating anyone."
The Minister raised an eyebrow but continued to eat.
"We really aren't dating. I trust him and he agreed to accompany me. I could have asked any of my friends to accompany me and they would have said yes, except perhaps Draco."
"You are not as close with Draco?" he asked, looking curious.
"I am close friends with Draco, but he is dating Pansy. It would be awkward if I went to an event with him under those circumstances," she said, deciding that the Minister didn't need to know that things were still rough between Draco and Pansy right now.
"Ah, I see. I have to tell you, I do not miss being your age and navigating the waters of romance. You will have to be careful, of course. I do not say this lightly, but there are people who will want to pursue you because of your position and your fame. You must be cautious about who you allow to become close to you," he said with a nod.
Rachel nodded. "I'm aware. I'm not planning on letting anyone close to me. I am happy with the friends that I have."
"You will get to know more people, especially through the Wizengamot. There are trustworthy people out there. Give it some time. Which I suppose brings me to what I wished to talk to you about today," he said.
Rachel felt her eyebrows go up and hoped that the point of this conversation hadn't been to talk about her dating.
"We are beginning to make arrangements for you to be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. We wanted to wait until the trials from those battles had finished. Do you object to a joint ceremony with Albus?" he asked.
"Not at all." Rachel wanted whatever would make the ceremony go quicker and with less attention on her.
"Very good. We'll hold that in approximately three weeks at The British Museum of Magic. The second and third class ceremony will be held here at the Ministry in two weeks, and it would mean a lot to people if you attended that as well," he said, pausing to make a note on a piece of parchment.
"I'll be there," Rachel said, feeling that she should honor those people who had fought against the Death Eaters.
"Have you clerk give one of my clerks a list of people you'd like to be invited to your ceremony," he said, setting his quill down and returning to his meal.
"I will." Rachel paused for a moment and wondered if this was even a possibility. She decided to ask and find out. "Can I nominate the people who were at Hogwarts for awards? Many of them gave their lives or were injured so that the younger students would have a chance to evacuate the school."
The Minister looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Third class, perhaps. Let me talk to a few people before I make a final decision."
"Thank you," she said, uncertain if he would have considered it if someone else had asked him and if this was him doing her a favor.
"You will need to sit for a portrait for the gallery of Order of Merlin, First Class holders. Your clerk will make the arrangements. We can use the same portrait for your chocolate frog card," he said, making another note.
"Chocolate frog card?" she asked with a sinking feeling.
"Yes, they were very excited to place you on a card. You'll be one of the youngest people to have their own card in the history of their collection," he said. "We will curate what they are allowed to say about you."
Rachel sighed. It seemed like she was going to be famous beyond her own lifetime for killing the Dark Lord.
"Try not to worry about it too much," he said, clearly reading her expression. "This one event defines you for right now, but you have a whole career ahead of you. Imagine the things you can still accomplish."
"There are lots of things I'd like to accomplish. I'd much rather people saw me as a person, and not just someone who killed someone."
"They will. Give it time. You still have your whole life ahead of you. I know eighteen feels like you have reached adulthood, but you are just at the cusp of what you can become," he said, nodding sagely.
She hoped that was true. She felt she was much more than just a killer or the Girl-Who-Lived, and she wanted other people to see that too.
Rachel sat down for breakfast on Thursday morning and was somewhat surprised to find a letter at her place. She didn't get a lot of mail, she lived with most of the people she wanted to talk to and she visited everyone else when she needed to see them.
'Dear Rachel,
I hope you are doing well, especially after all of the Wizengamot business that the Daily Prophet has been reporting on lately. Please say hello to Millie and the rest of our friends for me.
A while ago, you and I talked about me possibly interviewing you after the war. Obviously neither of us expected the war to end so quickly. I know Witch Weekly has sent requests to do an interview to you, but they've been getting the standard rejection letter from your office at the Wizengamot.
I told my boss that I might be able to get an interview with you, but with some caveats that I thought might help. I told her you probably wouldn't agree to do the interview with anyone but me, which she was annoyed about, but wants the interview badly enough to agree to it. You can refuse any question you don't want to answer. We're not talking about the battle at Hogwarts or anything that happened that day. And you have the option of saying something without editorial changes, so that you can tell people what you want them to know.
I also told them to purchase one of the photos from your Quidditch spread because you wouldn't want to do photos either.
I would offer my home as a place to do the interview, but with the situation with Pansy as it is right now, I don't think that's a good idea. She's not mad at you. She's just hurt and isn't thinking straight right now. Would you be willing to come by the Witch Weekly offices in London? I can promise you that you won't be mobbed by people.
Again, I hope you're well.
Love from Daphne'
"Problem?" Theo asked as he sat down.
Rachel looked up from the letter. "Not a problem. Just have to make a decision. You know, we had to make far fewer decisions when we were at Hogwarts."
Theo shrugged. "Our lives were pretty regulated. The biggest decisions we were making was what time we wanted to study something. What decision do you have to make?" he asked as Draco and Hermione sat down at the table.
"Daphne wants to know if I'll do an interview with her for Witch Weekly."
"I would, if I was you," Draco said.
"Why?" Rachel asked.
"Because I think we can trust Daphne to be judicious about what is printed about you and it will give people a chance to see a different side of you than just the Girl-Who-Lived or person who was constantly being attacked at Hogwarts," Draco said.
"Witch Weekly is a bit of a different publication than the Daily Prophet. They're less of a news source and more of a source of entertainment about interesting people or events. I think they're likely going to show a very different picture of you than what the Daily Prophet is saying, and that might be a good thing. You're always saying that you want people to see you as a person. This might help with that," Hermione pointed out.
Millie and Neville took their places around the table and everyone began serving themselves breakfast. "What's the problem?" Millie asked as she looked around.
"Witch Weekly wants an interview with Rachel. She's deciding whether or not to do it," Theo said.
Millie looked at her. "Well, they can't print anything worse about you than what's already been printed."
"There is that," Rachel said. "What sort of questions do you think she'd ask?"
"Knowing Witch Weekly, they'll ask about where you shop for robes or what you think about different people," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Look at it as an opportunity," Draco said. "If you establish this relationship with Witch Weekly now, you can use it in the future. If they become a primary source of news about you, that benefits them, and gives you the opportunity to have a platform to speak from that isn't the Daily Prophet."
Rachel ran her finger along the edge of the table as she thought about it. That could be useful, especially when it came to things like talking about issues with Azkaban or prejudice against muggleborns, or House Elf legislation. "How many people read Witch Weekly?"
"Well, primarily women," Neville said. "My Gran did."
"My mom reads it too," Millie said. "But I think if they advertise that they interviewed you, for that issue at least, they would get attention outside of the people who usually read it."
"I think it makes sense to give them an interview, speak about things that maybe aren't very important, and see what they do with it. If what they print isn't what you said, then you know you can't use them as a way to speak to people. But if they are respectful and publish what you tell them, that might be a sign that you can use them in the future," Theo suggested.
"No sense in burning a possible bridge before you've even tested it," Hermione agreed.
"That makes sense. And it is Daphne. If I have to give an interview to someone, I'd rather it be her than someone I don't know." Rachel hesitated for a moment and then decided to ask. "Draco, how is Pansy? Daphne was concerned enough that she didn't want me visiting. Is she…does she hate me?"
Draco brought his hand up to his forehead for a moment. "She doesn't hate you. She's just angry right now, and she can't bring herself to blame her mother, so she's blaming us instead."
"Us? She's blaming you?" she asked.
He nodded slightly. "I'm not really sure where to go from here with her. Every time we talk ends with her crying and yelling at me. I worry that visiting is upsetting her, but she gets upset if I stay away too. You're girls. What am I supposed to do?"
Rachel traded looks with Millie and Hermione.
"I don't think this is a girl thing in particular, I think this is a situational thing," Hermione began.
Millie nodded. "Pansy has lost a lot, really suddenly. Not that you haven't. But-"
"But she actually loved her parents," Draco said.
"Draco," Hermione said.
"No. Still not having that conversation," he said with a firm look at Hermione.
Hermione held her hands up in mock surrender. "The point I was trying to make is that I don't think this is a situation caused by something intrinsic to your relationship, the problem was caused by something external to your relationship, so the problem between you can't be fixed until the external problem is fixed."
"So, never, then? Her mother is in Azkaban for life," Draco said flatly.
"Not never. That part of the situation can't be fixed, but the way Pansy feels about it can change. Do you know if she ever started seeing a Mind Healer?" Rachel asked.
"She's upset about that too. Professor Snape gave her a list, but she insists that there is nothing wrong with her and that a Mind Healer will try to change what she's thinking. Obviously, if the situation was different, I would ask you to talk with her so she could understand that your Mind Healer isn't like that, but I'm not sure you talking to Pansy right now is going to work at all," Draco said, shaking his head.
Rachel suspected Pansy wouldn't agree to speak with her anyway.
"Honestly, to me, this seems like something Pansy has got to sort out. You can support her, but you can't fix this," Theo said.
Neville nodded. "I don't think other people can fix that sort of thing. I think sometimes people need time to fix that bit themselves, while people who care about them just offer care or a person to talk to."
"I let her talk to me. And I try to show her that I care about her, but she pushes me away."
"Then you're already doing the things that you can do," Hermione said. "I suppose you could see a Mind Healer yourself, and then she might see that it's not so bad."
Draco rolled his eyes at her.
"Seeing a Mind Healer isn't bad at all. It can be a little frustrating, but overall it's been pretty helpful to me," Rachel said, thinking that Draco could also probably benefit from seeing a Mind Healer.
"I'm not seeing a Mind Healer. I am actually doing just fine, thank you," Draco said.
Rachel glanced at Theo and he shrugged. She wasn't sure how fine Draco was. He seemed alright on the surface, but he also seemed a little bit brittle. And it seemed like he couldn't talk about his parents at all. Rachel could understand that though - she didn't talk about her relatives at all either.
"Oh, I know!" Hermione said, sitting up straight. "Do Mind Healers do couples therapy? I've heard about it before with muggle therapists."
"I have no idea," Rachel said. She'd never heard of couples therapy, but could make the assumption that people went to that when they were having problems in their relationship.
"Might not hurt to find out," Hermione said, seeming pleased that she'd found a solution.
Draco groaned.
"I can ask," Rachel offered. "I'm seeing my Mind Healer today, and if anyone would know, she would."
"If I can't convince Pansy to go see a regular Mind Healer, how would I convince her to go with me?" Draco asked.
"You could tell her you're worried about the state of your relationship and that maybe this will help and doesn't she want things between you to be better," Hermione suggested.
"I'm pretty sure that is going to end up with her crying and yelling at me."
"Then it's hardly worse than what's already happening," Millie pointed out.
Rachel nodded. She wasn't sure what the next step was for Draco and Pansy's relationship, but if things were at the point where they were yelling at each other, something had to change. She looked at her letter again and decided she'd write to Daphne this afternoon and let her know her availability to do an interview. Then she'd ask Torey about couples therapy for Draco and Pansy, and in the meantime she had training with the MLE and some work to get done in her office.
Overall, a pretty quiet day.
Severus sat down with a cup of tea and the morning mail on the second Saturday in November. He had the newspaper, which a quick glance at told him that following the war the Ministry had settled back into its usual foolishness. There was also a letter from one of the apothecaries for while he brewed, which turned out to be an emergency order for four cauldrons of Pepper Up potion. Apparently there was a cold making its way around magical Britain, as he'd just brewed six cauldrons of Pepper Up for a different apothecary last week. Next there was a letter from the Potions Guild asking him to rsvp to the holiday Guild dinner. Severus grudgingly marked that he would be attending, without a plus one, on the return card. Now that he wasn't at Hogwarts he didn't have a ready made excuse for avoiding Guild functions.
And finally, a letter from the Ministry, which he cast a few more revealing charms at just to be certain nothing strange was happening before he opened it
'Master Severus Snape
The Minister for Magic is pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to receive the Order of Merlin, Third Class, for your heroic efforts during the war. This award will be presented at the Ministry of Magic on the twenty second of November, in a ceremony dedicated to those who fought in the war. Light refreshments will be served.
Please reply to indicate your acceptance of the award and your attendance at the ceremony.
Cordially yours,
Rufus Scrimgeour
Minister for Magic'
Severus scowled down at the letter. Was this Albus' doing? Did he think throwing awards at people was supposed to make what happened better? He had known both Rachel and Albus had been nominated for the Order of Merlin, First Class, but he hadn't heard anything about other people being nominated.
He generally tried not to think much about the battle at Hogwarts or the events that had taken place immediately afterward. Too many people had died. Too many people that he had tried to protect had died. And Rachel…he was still coming to terms with the fact that he had not protected her in the way that he should have.
Thinking back, he should have taken her from Britain immediately after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. He could remember sitting in this very chair, thinking about all the things that would change with the Dark Lord's return and what precautions they needed to take. It had been a miracle that he'd gotten her back from that graveyard. He should have seen that instead of being thankful that the Dark Lord's megalomania pushed him into ridiculous displays instead of simply executing Rachel and being done with it.
He had foolishly believed that Albus and Hogwarts were their best protection from the Dark Lord. It certainly didn't help that Karkaroff had been murdered so swiftly when he fled. Severus had evaluated the situation and had decided that behind the wards was the safest place for them. Based on their past experience with the Dark Lord, they believed he wouldn't come to Hogwarts until he finished consolidating power. It turned out they were wrong about that as well, and only a twist of fate meant they hadn't lost the war because of it.
Even though he was constantly urging Rachel to use good judgment and to think about situations before she acted, he had to admit that he had not done so well there these past few years. There had been a number of opportunities for him to take her and leave. Black even kept urging him to do so. It was a strange day when he regretted not listening to Sirius Black.
Severus had half a mind to decline the nomination, but he did not want to set that example for Rachel. Having an Order of Merlin would help legitimize her as a power in Britain for decades to come and as much as Rachel fussed about being powerful, he wanted her to have both the magical power and political power to protect herself.
It seemed like the magical power issue had more than taken care of itself. He had long suspected Rachel was powerful, but it still surprised him a little when she described the ease she found with wandless magic. He wondered if she had attempted to learn wandless magic before becoming an animagus if she would have found it as simple. Eventually he would like Rachel to learn elemental magic, just so she had the option if she needed it. That could wait until she was more comfortable with her power and until they found her a teacher outside of Britain. He did not anticipate her getting into an elemental magic battle in the next few years regardless.
Political power was more of a quandary. The fact that Selwyn was voted guilty suggested that Rachel had a fair portion of the Wizengamot supporting her, even if she hadn't made those alliances yet herself. When possible, he wanted her to start making contacts in Albus' faction so that they were voting with her without Albus' direction. The newspaper was a problem, as it ever was. Severus was considering following up on his threat to Rita Skeeter, but hadn't quite decided what to do yet. He was leaning towards something that kept her alive but left her with the inability to write, even with her special quill. He would look into it as he watched the situation unfold.
"Severus?" Rachel called.
"In the kitchen," he called back, a little surprised that she was here. He wasn't expecting her until tomorrow for dinner.
She came into the kitchen looking a little ruffled. "I needed to get my Hogwarts uniform. Apparently they want my Order of Merlin portrait in my school uniform because that's what I was wearing when I killed the Dark Lord. This is going to make me look like a child forever."
"You are very young, but I don't think anyone sees you as a child. When are you sitting for the portrait?" he asked. As far as he could tell, the newspaper had never treated her as a child - just as a celebrity.
"Tuesday. The ceremony is on the twenty-ninth. Will you be there?"
"Of course." He was surprised she felt the need to ask. "It appears I've been nominated for the Order of Merlin, third class. The ceremony is on the twenty-second."
"I'll be there for that too," she said. "What are you doing today?"
"Brewing Pepper Up, apparently. There is a cold going around. Do you have the appropriate potions in your cabinet at home for if someone is ill or injured?" he checked.
"No, but we probably should. Maybe I'll drag Draco into brewing with me this weekend. We should have Pepper Up, Pain Relieving Potion, Headache Easing Draught, Healing Salve, and Bruise Paste," she listed, looking thoughtful.
"All of those would be good to have on hand. The last thing you want to do when you're in pain is to try and brew a potion," he agreed.
"Alright. Unfortunately I've got things to do, so I'm going to grab my stuff and go. I'll see you tomorrow for dinner," she said.
"I'll see you then," he said, watching her leave the room. At the very least she seemed in better spirits these days than she had a few months ago. He would take what improvements he could get.
"Whoa," Millie said as two owls arrived with a bunch of letters. "Who is writing us?"
"I can't think of anyone. They're not for Rachel, are they?" Hermione asked, standing up.
Rachel turned in her seat and watched as Millie performed the detection charms and then accepted the stacks of letters.
"No, they're all for us, and they have the Ministry's seal," she said, her eyebrows raising as she returned to the table and passed them out.
The rest of the group quickly opened the letters, their breakfasts forgotten temporarily.
"I'm going to assume all of our letters say the same thing?" Neville asked as he looked up.
"That we're being awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class, and are invited to Rachel and Professor Dumbledore's ceremony?" Hermione checked, getting nods from everyone.
"That's…unexpected. My clerk hasn't said anything about this," Draco finally said. "Did the Minister say something about this to you, Rachel?"
"Yes, actually," she said, wondering if she should tell them that she'd been the one to suggest it. "I believe quite a number of people are being awarded at the same time, for what they did in the war."
"It feels a little strange," Neville said. "I wouldn't have expected this either."
"Why?" Rachel asked.
"Because our role in the war was fairly minimal," Theo said. "We probably knew a lot more about it than we should have, but the only real involvement in it we had was at that battle."
"The battle was important though. It ended the war," Hermione said. "Things possibly could have gone very differently if there hadn't been enough people defending Hogwarts. But compared to what the Order and the MLE was doing, we did not have a sustained part in the war. There wasn't much we could do from Hogwarts."
Millie frowned down at her letter. "Do you think they sent my parents invitations?"
"I think that's likely. It's customary for someone's family to be present when they are awarded an Order of Merlin. Is this going to cause problems for you? You did say they knew you were at the battle, didn't you?" Theo asked.
"They know. They're not happy about it, but they know. I just don't want to mix my parents with a bunch of people right now because I don't know what they're going to say."
"If they're awarding everyone who is involved, then there's going to be a ton of people there. I think you can keep them away from anyone you don't want them to see," Draco said. "I need new dress robes."
Millie looked at Hermione. "We need dress robes! I don't have any."
"I don't have any either," Hermione said, looking at the letter again. "We have a little less than two weeks to do this in. I don't suppose my parents can come, can they?"
"I don't think there's a way for muggles to get into the Ministry," Draco said after a moment. "All of the entrances I know of are by floo, and muggles can't floo."
"Why is that, anyway? What will happen?" Hermione asked. "Objects can be transported through, so can animals."
"Only with people, though. You can't pass an inanimate object or a non-magical creature through the floo by itself," Theo warned. "Floo powder is technically a dry potion. Just like most magical potions won't work on muggles, neither will floo powder, they'll just be burned by the flames and they won't go anywhere."
"I didn't know potions could be dry," Rachel said, which she thought was a complete omission in her education considering she had received an Outstanding on her Potions NEWT.
"They're very rare and they're difficult to invent. The only other ones I know of are poisons," Draco said. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder is also technically a potion, I suppose."
"Which brings me to a new question. If potions can be in powders, why doesn't magical healing include capsule pills?" Hermione asked.
The rest of the table only stared at her, looking puzzled.
She sighed. "In muggle medicine, medicine is typically delivered in one of five ways: by ingesting a liquid, ingesting a pill, an injection of liquid, a topical liquid, or through aerosolization - which is turning a liquid medicine into a vapor. For pills, they are dry substances that have been compacted together, or sometimes they are not packed together, but are placed loose inside an digestible tablet for someone to swallow. Pills can remain in a cabinet for years and still be safe and effective to take. They're also sometimes cheaper than liquids. Why isn't this common in magical medicine?"
"Because it sounds very complicated?" Neville asked.
"It's nowhere near as complicated as some potions recipes that I've seen," Hermione insisted.
Rachel decided she was going to ask Severus about dry potions because she wanted to know more and she wondered if things could be done with them that couldn't currently be done with the potions they had. "Oh, that reminds me, Severus said we should keep some common healing potions on hand. Pepper Up, Headache Easing Draught, that sort of thing. Does anyone want to brew with me?"
"I will," Draco said. "No sense in getting out of practice."
"Thanks," Rachel said. "Just let me know when works for you."
"I think that better be in reverse, your schedule is far more busy than mine," Draco said.
Rachel sat and thought about her schedule. "Next Sunday morning?"
"Works for me," he said.
She took a moment as she looked down at her breakfast and tried to figure out when she was working on various things. She had so many projects that she wanted to make sure she wasn't forgetting something obvious. Maybe she needed to purchase another planner so she could make notes to herself.
"Is there any practical benefit to having an Order of Merlin, or is it mostly a ceremonial thing?" Hermione asked.
"Mostly ceremonial, but there's a sort of sense of respect to it as well. They're not very commonly given out. The last time I know of that Order of Merlins were awarded like this was at the end of the last war - my parents both received second class awards," Neville said.
"The Order of Merlin is supposed to say that you did something extraordinary for the benefit of magical Britain. Typically second and third class are given for notable achievements or contributions, though as Neville said, they're also used to commemorate participants in war. First class is far more rarely given and is reserved for things like a lifetime of achievement or an act that has an impact on the nation. Professor Dumbledore was also awarded first class when he defeated Grindelwald," Theo explained. "The Minister choosing to give Rachel first class is entirely expected and theoretically places her as a leader in the Wizengamot."
"It's the sort of thing you list in your achievements when you're writing to someone about wanting an apprenticeship or a position with them," Millie said. "Technically, this helps all of us, quite a bit. It won't make as much a difference for those who are already more advanced in their careers, but for us it gives us an advantage for anything we apply for."
Rachel was glad to hear that. She wanted this to be something that helped people, and she did feel that they deserved it even if they felt they hadn't had as much of a contribution to the war.
"That's good to know. And I suppose there is no sense arguing with it," Hermione said after a moment.
"Probably not. I imagine if we're receiving these, everyone at the battles at Hogwarts, the Ministry, and St. Mungo's are as well," Draco said.
"That was my impression," Rachel said. She glanced at her watch. "We've got to go soon."
"We do," Draco said after checking his own watch.
Rachel focused on finishing what she wanted from her breakfast and decided that her request for people to receive the Order of Merlin could stay between her and the Minister.
Rachel arrived at the address that Booker had provided for her and was a little surprised to find a small cottage. She'd never known anyone who'd had their portrait painted, so she didn't know what to expect from this at all. She walked the garden path up to the front door and then knocked.
The door opened about a minute later to reveal a woman who appeared to be roughly in her sixties, with her brown hair streaked with grey. "Wizengamot Member Snow I presume."
"Yes, ma'am," Rachel said. She suspected there wasn't anyone in magical Britain who couldn't identify her at a glance. It was a little annoying.
"Just Samantha, please. Come on in," she said, stepping back.
"Thank you. You can call me Rachel." She much preferred that to people using her title. "Can you tell me about what we'll be doing?"
"Of course. We're going to go back to my studio and I will first finish the portrait, which is mostly your hair and facial features that needed to be added at this point. That should take around three hours. Then I will perform the spells that will allow the portrait to speak, once you have passed on. In general I recommend that people have their portraits updated at least once every ten years so that they have your more current knowledge. That part will take about twenty minutes," Samantha explained as she brought them through the cottage to a back room with large windows.
Rachel stopped in front of the canvas. It was much larger than she'd been expecting. The portrait would be life-sized, though it only showed from her chest to the top of her head. On the canvas right now was her torso, done in her Hogwarts uniform and robes, her Slytherin tie neatly tied. There was the start of her neck coming from the torso and a white space for her head. On the table next to the easel she found a half dozen newspaper clippings laid out, all pictures of her. "Wow, I look really young there," she said, pointing to one. She thought that must have been taken in her first or second year.
"Unfortunately I was not able to do as much of the work on the canvas as I would have liked without you here. Most of these photos are while you are young or capture you in unflattering lighting. Come take a seat, I'll adjust my lights, and we can begin. I'll turn on the Wizarding Wireless too, so you're not bored to tears," Samantha said, guiding Rachel to a seat in front of a frame of dark fabric.
She sat and watched as Samantha arranged different lights around her. Samantha moved back and forth, returning to her canvas and then coming back to make more changes.
"May I adjust your hair?" Samantha asked, stopping in front of Rachel again.
"Alright. Do you want me to pull it back?" Rachel asked.
"No, down is better, we don't want to make you look severe. I'm just going to arrange some of the strands so they fall around your shoulders. I want to make sure the color comes through. Your hair accents your eyes. Do you intend to continue to wear your glasses?"
"For the time being at least. I haven't quite worked up the nerve for the procedure to fix them yet," she admitted.
"I completely understand. You rely on your eyes for your work, you can't be a Seeker without being able to see well. I feel the same about mine, you'll see me put on my glasses in a moment, so I can do close up work," Samantha said, finishing playing with Rachel's hair. "Alright, remain roughly like this, remember to keep your chin up."
"I'll try," Rachel said.
"We can take short breaks, but try not to move too much," she said, returning to her canvas. She turned on the Wizarding Wireless, looked at Rachel for a long moment, put on her glasses, and began to work.
Rachel swallowed and tried to keep still. She hadn't quite realized how daunting sitting entirely still was. She was used to fidgeting a little and at least looking around while she was in class or sitting with the Wizengamot.
She didn't recognize the band on the wireless. Despite having listened to the wireless on and off in the common room for the past seven years, she'd never really listened to the music like she listened to her cassettes. She supposed that was because she could listen to multiple songs by a single group on her cassettes, and listen to them repeatedly. Magical groups probably put out records - there had been a gramophone in the common room as well, but she didn't often see people using it.
After a while - Rachel couldn't even begin to guess how much time had passed - the music stopped and a news report came on. She listened as the reporter discussed the fact that the bulk of the Death Eater trials were now finished and that all of the verdicts had been guilty.
Rachel supposed that would be a little strange under other circumstances, but these Death Eaters had all either been at one of the battles that had taken place at the end of June or they were captured at attacks on other people. It was hard for them not to be guilty.
The reporter moved on to what was expected at the upcoming Wizengamot meeting on Saturday. It was suggested that the Wizengamot would be hearing proposals on protections for muggles. The reporter did not seem optimistic that any of the proposals would pass.
Honestly, Rachel wasn't all that optimistic either. She had asked Booker a few weeks ago, because she was curious after Hermione had told her that she was the only muggleborn in the Healers Training Program. There were forty eight purebloods on the Wizengamot and twelve half-bloods. No muggleborns. Rachel hadn't been surprised, but she was a little disheartened. If the Wizengamot was proportional to the population of magical Britain, there should have been at least six muggleborns.
She couldn't help but wonder about the rest of the departments in the Ministry. She hadn't gone around asking in the MLE, but all of the people on the aurors that she knew about were purebloods or half-bloods. How did anyone fix a problem like that? People couldn't be forced to hire muggleborns, but it seemed like they weren't being given a fair chance at all.
The new report turned into a weather report. They could expect for the weather to continue to be cold and wet, though this far south they wouldn't see nearly as much snow as they saw at Hogwarts. After the game on Saturday, which Rachel would miss because of her Wizengamot duties, Seren was cutting down practices for the off season so that they weren't flying in the dark.
At Hogwarts, Rachel had always found the winter to be a little depressing, but maybe it would feel better in London because the days weren't quite so dark. Sometimes she imagined going somewhere sunny, just for a little while. She supposed she actually could now that she wasn't in school, but she had no idea how to go about that.
It was the same as everything else she wanted to do now that she wasn't stuck behind wards all the time. She wanted to go see things, but somehow the prospect of going out was still daunting. And, usually, by the time the group reached Sunday, they just wanted a quiet day in the house. Maybe she'd try to talk people into going to the magical library in London this week. She didn't want to go alone, as silly as that was.
The news report finished with an announcement of the time - it was now two o'clock in the afternoon - and music started playing again.
"Need to stretch?" Samantha asked, peering around her canvas.
"I'm alright," Rachel said, finding that she was a little stiff in the shoulders and neck but was otherwise okay. "How did you become a painter?"
"Oh, I couldn't become anything else, I suppose. Even when I went to Hogwarts, you could usually find me behind an easel."
"One of my friends likes to draw and paint, she's very good, but she wants to be a magizoologist," Rachel said.
"It's good for her that she knows what she wants to do. I wound up taking four NEWTS. Transfiguration and Charms, so I would be able to learn the spells in order to bring my paintings to life. And Potions and Herbology, so I could mix my own paints. I spent the rest of my time painting around the castle or painting portraits of my classmates," Samantha said, now hidden behind her canvas again.
"I didn't realize that potions could be used for that. I plan to get a mastery in Potions and join the Potions Guild," Rachel said.
"It's the same basic principle, infusing magic and plant material and liquids to make paint," Samantha said.
"Do you make all of your own paints?" It seemed like potions could be used for so many things that she had never even thought of.
"Most of them. I trade for all my metallics and I specialize in skin pigments," Samantha said.
"Are there many magical artists?"
"No, not many at all. There are a fair number of hobbyists, but very few of us can make a living at this in a society of our size. Most of us do portraits and landscapes, because that is what is in demand. Muggle artists, on the other hand…"
Rachel frowned, uncertain if Samantha was disapproving of what muggle artists did. Rachel wasn't even sure what it was muggle artists did that Samantha was referring to. "What do you mean?" she asked, since that seemed like a safe question.
"The things they do with shapes and colors. The things they draw."
Rachel didn't have to ask if Samantha was approving now - she sounded somewhere between wistful and longing.
"Have you ever been to The National Gallery?" Samantha asked.
"I haven't," Rachel said.
"You should. Sometimes, when I don't have a client. I go there and just walk to take in all of it. You can sit with one painting for hours, just to take in the nuance of it. The detail. Or you can walk and have an almost transcendental experience. Though, I expect, you would know more about that than most people."
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"Relax your face. I'm not going to ask you what happened when you died. That is your personal experience. I hope you find some way to share it with the world one day, when you're ready. Perhaps not in words, but in sound or images," Samantha said.
Rachel didn't think that day would come. She didn't think she could begin to explain it to anyone. Even the way she'd described it to the people she cared about didn't really explain what happened. "Maybe," she said, not wanting to argue.
"Either way, go to the gallery. There are so many experiences beyond just the every day. Take your magizoologist friend as well."
That was a good idea. Rachel would wait for Luna before she went. She thought that might be a good group trip for everyone. "Thank you for telling me about it."
"More people need to be willing to go out into the muggle world. Perhaps if they did, they could see it for what it is and not what they believe it to be."
"Are you…did you grow up in muggle culture?" Rachel asked, figuring that was better than asking outright if Samantha was muggleborn.
"No, not at all. I come from a pureblood family. After Hogwarts I apprenticed with an artist in New Zealand. The magical and muggle communities are much closer there and I learned rather by necessity. I was almost disappointed to return to Britain. Now, let me focus for a little bit," Samantha said, peering out again.
"Sorry," Rachel said.
She returned to holding still, but she was now thoughtful. Professor Dumbledore had told her that he'd learned more about muggles in France when he was an apprentice. It seemed pretty clear to her that being in contact with muggles helped people see that they were human, just like they were. It obviously wouldn't work with everyone, especially not the people that would kill a muggle as soon as look at one, but most people weren't that extreme. How did they ensure people had that contact though? Or, maybe the better question was, how did they make people want that contact?
Rachel thought that a lot of problems with prejudice against muggleborns would be solved by people not thinking poorly of muggles to begin with.
"Alright then, come take a look," Samantha said, quite a while later.
Rachel stood. She hadn't come to any new conclusions, but her mind had pondered a lot of things. "It looks just like me," she said as she looked at the canvas. It wasn't quite as sharp as a reflection in a mirror, but it was pretty close.
"Thank you. Now for the spells. Take a seat on this stool and now I need to concentrate," Samantha said, pulling out her wand.
She sat and then stumbled off the stool, feeling like something was pressing into her brain.
"Rachel?" Samantha asked, sounding alarmed.
Rachel picked herself up off the floor, a little flustered and a little shaken. "I can feel some spells, it just took me by surprise. I didn't expect it to be that strong."
"Oh." Samantha stared at her for a long moment. "Oh. Did it hurt?"
"Um. It felt like something going into my brain," Rachel said. She wouldn't call it painful, exactly, but it was far from pleasant.
"Oh," Samantha said again. "I…oh. I suppose you don't want to complete the portrait then?"
"No, we can do it," Rachel said, sitting back down. "I'm prepared this time."
"I suppose this is why you're the one who killed You-Know-Who. Alright then," Samantha said, now looking nervous as she raised her wand. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, it's fine," Rachel said, bracing herself.
"If you say so." Samantha lowered her wand.
Rachel bowed her head, feeling the spell was pressing down on her. She didn't think it was actually possible, but she was sure she could feel her brain. It felt gross and a little disorienting. The spell began to expand, moving down her body, filling her mouth, digging into her organs, covering her skin. She wanted to scream but she couldn't draw a breath. She was engulfed in the magic and it was pressing inside of her.
She didn't know how long it lasted but she was finally released and collapsed off of the stool. This time she didn't try to pick herself back up.
"Oh Merlin," Samantha said. "I killed the Girl-Who-Lived."
"Not dead," Rachel managed to say.
"Oh!" Samantha's hands landed on Rachel's arm, shaking her slightly. "Oh. Um. Water? Or a healing potion?"
"No," Rachel said, sitting up. "I'm going to go home now."
"Oh dear. Are you sure you're well enough to apparate?" Samantha asked, backing up but still looking worried.
"Yeah." Rachel got to her feet and walked back out of the cottage, screaming on the inside. "Bye."
She apparated into the hallway and nearly collapsed again.
"Miss?"
"Miss?"
Kreacher and Dobby had appeared in the hallway and both of them looked alarmed.
"I'm…" Rachel found that she couldn't make herself say that she was fine. "I need a hot shower."
"Dobby will get the shower ready. Kreacher will help Miss up the stairs," Dobby said before disappearing.
Kreacher moved forward and Rachel held out her hand with her palm toward him. "Do not apparate me right now. Please."
"Yes, Miss. Kreacher lends Miss his strength, so she can climb the stairs," Kreacher said, holding his hand out.
Rachel took it, even though she wasn't sure what Kreacher could do to help, and found that she was a little more steady. They climbed the stairs together and Kreacher helped her up the stairs and into the bathroom. She found the shower running already and Feverfew sitting on the bathmat.
Feverfew meowed and peered up at Rachel.
"In a minute," Rachel told her. "I need to be alone."
"Kreacher and Dobby will be right out here for Miss," Kreacher said, moving outside the bathroom with Dobby by his side.
Rachel shut the door, peeled off her clothes and managed to get herself in the shower. She felt disgusting and like her body had just been touched all over. If that was how portraits were updated, she was never updating hers. It could have the knowledge of an eighteen year old forever.
She sat in the shower and let the hot water run over her, hoping it wouald wash at least some of the feeling away. She sat for a long time, expecting the hot water to run out, but she finally decided that someone had done something magical to the water system and turned off the water instead.
Eventually, sitting wet, she got chilled and she climbed out of the shower and dealt with her hair and dried herself. Back in her bedroom she put on clean clothes and then climbed into bed.
"Miss?" Kreacher asked. "Does Miss need a potion? Miss is hurt?"
"I don't think a potion can fix this," Rachel said. She paused. A potion couldn't, but a spell could. "Do you know how to obliviate people?"
"No, Miss. House Elves do not know magics of the mind. It is forbidden," Kreacher said.
Feverfew jumped up on the bed and pressed her body against Rachel's chest.
"That wasn't supposed to happen. No one else has this problem."
"What problem, Miss? Can Kreacher fix it?"
"No, I don't think anyone can fix it. I need to be alone now."
"Yes, Miss." Kreacher said before disappearing.
Rachel sighed. She'd hide for a few hours. Then have dinner. And then try to put this behind her. It had been a bad spell, but she'd lived through it. She just had to make sure that sensation didn't join the rest of her nightmares.
Clearly the spell didn't do that to everyone, or no one would have magical portraits done. This was just a her problem. It was strange sometimes how many problems seemed to just happen to her.
She exhaled. She would meditate for a while. Clear her head. And then not think about it anymore.