A/N: First completed fic! Yes, it is complete, and I'll be slowly but surely rolling out the remaining chapters over the next few weeks. I apologize in advance for any pacing/timeline issues - did my very best to make sure the Severus/OC relationship flows seamlessly into the events that take place in Book 4, without making it TOO lengthy.
There is a Spotify playlist for this fic! I'll be dropping the link for that on Friday, with Chapter 6. Expect weekly updates until finished :)
Chapter 1
"One of the deepest secrets in life is that all that is really worth doing is what we do for others."
– Lewis Carroll
It was just past four o'clock in the morning, dense fog rolling down the Scottish hillsides while the sun made its lazy climb in the sky. Everything was cast in pale shadow, the full moon no longer illuminating as brightly as it had been mere hours ago. It was just about time for the birds to begin their morning symphony, but instead… silence. Of the sinister, toe-curling sort.
A half-giant ambled slowly out of his hut, pulling at his thick, hairy coat while large fingers worked the tiny buttons. Even though summer had officially made its appearance weeks ago, early mornings like this were always subzero-level cold at Hogwarts. Wind chill was likely the biggest factor. Using his pink umbrella, the Keeper of Keys cast a warming charm in his hands. The angle was awkward and a bit tricky to get right while he held a coffee mug in the other hand, but once he did, he was more than a bit proud of himself. He shot another charm towards his four-legged companion, who was "watering" the grass in his designated spot.
"Fang, I don' wanta catch yeh goin' near tha' pumpkin patch again, un'erstand?" the Keeper spoke. The dog simply finished his business, yawned widely, and strolled back into the heated hut for a few more hours of sleep. Hagrid snorted.
It took him only a few moments of being outside, sipping his coffee without distraction, before he realized something was very wrong. The silence was deafening, and he was used to no less than a half dozen small critters coming to tell him "good morning".
Something was very wrong indeed.
Armed with his umbrella, Hagrid set out to find the source of what had him feeling like he'd taken a kick to the groin from a Hippogriff. He planned to alert Professor Dumbledore at this hour only if it turned out to be something serious. He made a beeline for the thestral clearing, knowing there were new kits and fearing the worst. When he checked and saw all nineteen accounted for – including the two babies – Hagrid turned his attention to the Forbidden Forest that loomed before him. He would check the perimeter, beginning at the southwest end of the forest before doubling back the way he came and taking a look at the northern end. Hopefully a centaur or unicorn wasn't laying somewhere nearby, injured or worse. If necessary, he would venture deeper into the forest, but that could wait for more daylight. After almost losing Buckbeak, Hagrid could truly take no more heartache.
Coffee now cold and long forgotten – it wasn't that good, anyway, he reasoned – Hagrid dumped the contents and sent the mug sailing back to his hut. His magic thrummed around him, instinctively protecting him from whatever may be lurking around the next tall oak tree. He trudged through mud and grass, sidestepping the occasional boulder and trying not to look away from the treeline for too long. The sky had now brightened considerably, and he was almost done searching the southern edge of the wood. He was thinking he'd take a quick breakfast and tea before his travels into the forest. Maybe pancakes this morning? Or French Toast and hearty sausages? He'd take Fang with him as well; it was time for the lazy beast to run and stretch his legs.
Hagrid's search came to an abrupt halt when, at the northernmost side of the Forbidden Forest, strewn across rocks and branches and logs, he discovered the mangled corpse of Poppy Pomfery.
RK + SS
Professor Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing the pain in his temple to go away. Six. Not yet even noon, and there had already been six people in his office screaming in his face for one reason or another.
In just a few hours, the death of Hogwarts' matron was front page news in the Daily Prophet, her body having been collected by the Ministry of Magic about half an hour ago. Hagrid was so overcome with grief as he'd been the one to find her, the poor thing had to be given a particularly strong Calming Draught by Professor Snape; he currently snored away in Dumbledore's office, sounding reminiscent of a centaur at a gallop. The half-giant had run – all the way from the Hogwarts grounds to the Headmaster's office on the seventh floor – with Poppy hanging limply from his arms. Part of her jaw was missing and large, jagged wounds spanned the length of her throat down to her belly. While there was somewhat of a trail that was cleared by Aurors before their departure, the bleeding had stopped long before Hagrid actually found her. The elderly wizard had been distraught to tell him there was simply nothing he could do for their matron.
Dumbledore sighed deeply, finally setting down the newspaper and glancing at Fawkes. The gorgeous phoenix pruned his feathers fitfully, as though feeding off the anxiety of his friend.
"You'll be most upset when you're missing a few feathers by the end of that."
The bird trilled in response, as though to say, You have have bigger issues on your plate right now than my feathers, old man.
Dumbledore hummed in agreement, folding his hands under his chin. The Aurors were saying werewolves. Rogues whose only intent was to hunt and kill their prey. It had the wizarding community already in an uproar, with parents sending a flurry of owls threatening to pull their children from Hogwarts. The Headmaster sighed, sharply this time, and stood to pace his office; on the heels of Lupin's resignation and the whole Sirius Black scandal, the PR for this was going to be a nightmare. Even Flitwick, who was due to retire in just a few years, leaned toward an even earlier departure.
Poppy Pomfrey had given over thirty-five years of her life to servicing Hogwarts. Her death was surely going to impact each and every one of his staff differently, nevermind those students who would suffer for not having their beloved matron upon returning to school.
Yes, he would have to be exceptionally careful in selecting her replacement.
"Albus? Albus?! I came as soon as I heard!"
Septima Vector's heels clicked distinctly on the stone floor of the headmaster's office, earrings jingling madly. When she was within eyesight, Dumbledore held up a hand to indicate the sleeping gamekeeper tucked away in the corner of the room. Vector paused for a moment and looked at Hagrid with sympathy in her eyes – she'd heard the two actually attended Hogwarts together as students before Hagrid's expulsion. They had long been close friends – they were probably all each other had in terms of family remaining.
"Our friend has had quite the day thus far," said Dumbledore softly. "He's just finished giving yet another statement to the Auror Office – the man deserves some rest now."
Vector nodded sadly. "Indeed he does. I won't be long then. I guess – well, I suppose I just want to inquire about your plans for the new term. As in – just how dangerous do you think it will be for everyone who chooses to return in September?"
Dumbledore carefully constructed his kindest, most tired face. There wasn't a chance in seven hells he was replacing an Arithmancy professor in addition to the new Defense teacher and school matron. Gesturing for Vector to take a seat in one of the plush chairs before his desk, Dumbledore then sat down himself, and considered how he would answer. She watched him, meeting his unwavering gaze with one of her own.
Finally, he spoke. "Rogue werewolf attack on our beloved matron aside, I expect this to still be a very… eventful school year."
Vector crossed her arms, her only display of irritability with his tactics. "So the tournament is still on then? You and the board are moving forward with this nonsense after what's happened?"
Dumbledore bowed his head slightly, magically sliding some lemon drops between them. He plucked one of the small yellow candies from the glass bowl and popped it into his mouth.
"Unbelievable!" Vector seethed. "These are children, Albus!"
Across the room, Hagrid spasmed erratically, an unintelligible moan escaping his lips. The snoring resumed.
Vector spared another pitying glance for the giant, then made quick work of casting a muffling charm before turning her ire back on Dumbledore.
"And what are we to do about our lack of matron?"
"Septima, I can assure you – I have every intention of seeking out a replacement for dear Poppy's position well before the start of term" Already, he had a growing stack of CVs from prospective applicants sitting on top of his desk. Truly, the news had blindsided him – rare as it is blindsiding Albus Dumbledore with anything – and he'd yet to conjure the strength to begin looking through the CVs since he'd started receiving them hours ago.
Vector harrumphed, finally opting for a lemon drop. (She was sure they were laced with some sort of calming element, which she needed for her nerves.)
"These children deserve someone who knows what they're doing, especially with all they will soon be up against," she said finally.
Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. Madam Pomfrey had likely given more of herself to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry than he and the rest of his staff combined. It would dishonor her memory greatly if he filled the open position for matron with anyone less than befitting of the title.
"It sounds like you have a proposal for me, Septima?"
She also tilted forward in her chair, matching his energy spark for spark. A smirk played at her lips.
"I do. And your previous hiring practices dictate that you better listen well and good, old man."
Dumbledore stifled the argument on his tongue, bright blue eyes flashing behind half-moon spectacles. There was no disputing what they both knew was true.
RK + SS
"I, for one, am mad that it's still raining."
"It's Chicago – I honestly don't know what you expect."
"A bit of sunshine would be nice!"
The young woman lifted her head to the skies, shouting this at the clouds while rain pelted her dark cheeks as though in retaliation.
"Come on, Bex, we don't have time for you to argue with the weather again," said her friend, grabbing her by the end of her green poncho.
Bex stuck her tongue out at him in response and, giggling, allowed herself to be pulled along.
"What's wrong, Rowan? Scared of someone?" she teased.
Rowan laughed, still pulling her through the busy downtown streets. "You're damn right I am! I'm already on Healer Briggs' shitlist – I don't wanna add tardiness to his list of reasons to literally throw more shit in my face."
Bex's smile faltered. Poor Rowan. Even by magic, most scut work was not fun and sometimes took the enjoyment out of being a Healer – even when they were residents.
They finally arrived at their destination and he let go of her poncho. The Riverwalk loomed before them, and they descended the slick stone steps as quickly as they could without falling. The stairs bottomed out into a small cove where they were finally protected from the downpour. Bex removed her hood and shook out her curls, sending a discreet drying charm towards them as Rowan used his wand to tap on a series of stones behind the Marina, obscured from Muggle viewing. Before following him into the hole that now appeared where the stones were supposed to be, Bex took a moment to Occlude; it allowed her to be at the top of her game, and give however much of herself was needed to keep her patients alive.
For one more moment, Bex watched the heavy rain come down in fat, dark drops, each one a fragment that then gave itself over onto the river. It moved with the current as though it knew it belonged there all along. All of it – the rain, the river, the cars thundering overhead on the bridges – was an experience she would never tire of.
Rowan was waiting – albeit a little impatiently – just inside the short corridor, knowing his friend and her daily routine. He knew he was free to go ahead without her; he simply didn't want to. As soon as Bex crossed the threshold, the stones fell back into place and the duo continued their way to the underground wizarding hospital.
She hadn't forgotten their conversation, and stated her input with the matter-of-fact part of her brain currently clouded by Occlusion.
"Briggs hates answering questions, and you ask far too many."
"I can't help that I have a curious mind," he shot back.
Bex rolled her eyes. "We're working to become internationally certified Healers – we all have a curious mind, every last one of us."
The wards put in place by the hospital allowed the two second-year mediwitch residents through a set of heavy doors at the end of the tunnel. Rowan scoffed as they stepped into the large, extravagant lobby that was decorated with marble and a high ceiling… despite being technically underground.
"Your point?" he asked, brushing droplets of water out of his fuzzy hair.
"Ease up a little."
Rowan's answering grumbles were good-natured, and he still tucked Bex's advice away for later as they quickly passed the welcoming desk and reception area. At this time of day, Erinlẹ's Hospital for Enchanted Ailments and Accidents was typically far less busy compared to the morning shift. The Sterilization Ward – where they cast a series of sanitation charms on themselves and donned their dark green resident robes robes – was therefore blessedly empty. The stone gargoyle statues situated on high columns along the marble walls would've been intimidating if they weren't smiling and waving down at the two Healers.
"You'd both best hurry," one of the gargoyles spoke in its gravelly voice. "Healer Briggs has already started sign out for the day shift.
"Shit!" Rowan swore, swiftly muttering the last few MACUSA-required charms. He turned to Bex. "He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me and I want you to let him."
"Fortunately for you – or unfortunately, I'm not quite sure yet – that's illegal."
Groaning, Rowan turned heel and exited the Sterilization Ward at the gargoyles' approval, fleeing down the corridor that would lead him to his fate. Bex was hot on his heels, holding back the laugh that threatened to bubble right out of her throat. No – support. Supportive. As comical as his dramatics often were, Rowan still needed a supportive friend.
They met Healer Briggs in Emergency Admission. He was speaking in hushed tones to a tall, redheaded mediwitch Bex had seen in passing only a handful of times before. If she recalled correctly, the woman was a Potions Mistress and therefore probably worked up on the sixth floor in the Apothecary.
Healer Briggs chuckled at something the mediwitch said and she smiled prettily up at him. She touched his arm with one manicured hand, and waggled her fingers with the other before turning and practically skipping down the hall towards a set of elevators. The Attending then rounded on his two tardy residents with a scowl so vicious, it called into question his prior exuberance.
"Fifteen minutes late. I should be having an early dinner by now. Any explanation for yourselves?"
Rowan swallowed nervously and fidgeted.
"The El was lagging behind," Bex offered, referring to the city's public transit system. "Rush hour. You know how it is."
Briggs' sharp brown eyes slid to his star resident. "You are aware you don't have to travel with the no-Maj, correct?"
Chin raising ever so slightly, Bex conjured her clipboard and said, "Yes, sir. To my knowledge, the MACUSA supports and even encourages Healer–no-Maj fraternization as much as possible; something about it increasing empathy among mediwitches towards their patients."
The older Healer stared for a moment more before a lazy smile creased his cheeks. "Good answer, Healer Kakudō."
Bex received the praise neutrally while Rowan watched the exchange with an expression on his face that was a cross somewhere between awe, pride, and jealousy. He huffed and conjured his own clipboard and chart, noting all the changes made to his patients from the day shift.
The movement did not go unnoticed by Briggs, who cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "I've already instructed your interns to get off their lazy asses and begin the duties that I hope have been assigned to them." He paused to stare both of his residents down, then continued. "Blake, Mrs. Baingrass in Room 331 will need another PepperUp and Blood Replenisher at exactly eleven. Try not to be late for that, too."
Rowan's cheeks flushed and he nodded once before he bolted for the elevators, intent on now checking his patients and his interns. Bex moved to follow him, but Briggs gestured for her to wait.
"An owl came for you about an hour ago," he said softly, pulling two letters from his dazzling red robes and handing them to her. Bex was stunned, a furrow appearing on her brow as she took them. People rarely wrote her – and her best friend in the world was somewhere in this hospital, currently on his way to chew out some poor interns. So, to receive two in one day, at the hospital instead of her home, no less…
Turning the letters over, Bex's eyes widened, heart plummeting to the bottom of her belly even as her stomach did a flip. She read the return address – she read it again. And again.
Her hands were shaking now, the letters clutched within them fluttering gently. She turned the top envelope over to confirm, and revealed the Dumbledore family insignia pressed perfectly in the center of the scarlet wax seal.