Summary: Harry and Ginny find a portrait tucked away in the Room of Requirement. It is a painting of a beautiful witch with chocolate brown hair and grey eyes, standing next to a very familiar wizard with long auburn hair and twinkling blue eyes. It is a painting of a couple who were once in love, and who were married at Hogwarts many years past. But fate intervened, and a tragic loss separated them. This is their story, a portrait of love lost – and found.
This story was written for the August Monthly Challenge - Weddings and was awarded first place.
Categories: Other Pairing Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 5
Completed: Yes
Word count: 14663
Read: 12500
Published: 08/18/06
Updated: 09/08/06
1. Prologue by Gmariam
2. Part One by Gmariam
3. Part Two by Gmariam
4. Part Three by Gmariam
5. Epilogue by Gmariam
Harry Potter left the Great Hall after dinner and slowly made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. As he walked, he thought about the funeral that Hogwarts would be hosting the next day. He still could not believe that the headmaster was gone, murdered by his one of his own staff. But Harry had seen it with his own eyes, and the sad song which Fawkes had sung that night confirmed what no one wanted to believe: Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of his time, was dead.
As Harry continued wandering the quiet corridors of the castle, his thoughts turned to all of the things he would miss about the late headmaster: the twinkle in his eye, his penchant for odd words, and his fondness for sweets. Harry silently pondered how little he knew about Professor Dumbledore, and the stories he would never get to hear now that the great wizard was gone. He was so caught up in his musings that he didn’t even see Ginny come out of the third floor girls’ bathroom until he walked right into her.
“Harry!” she exclaimed, stumbling backwards and throwing her arms out to catch her balance. “Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and extended his hand to help steady her. “I was just thinking about . . . you know . . .” He tried to let go of her hand, but she held on tight, joining her fingers with his.
“I know,” she said softly, looking at him sadly. “I miss him too.” Harry sighed and nodded in understanding, and together they set off down the hallway.
“There are just so many things I wanted to ask him,” Harry said quietly.
“Did he ever tell you what happened to his hand?” Ginny asked, and Harry shook his head.
“No, he kept putting it off. And now he’s gone, and no one will ever know but . . .” Harry trailed off when he realized that someone did know that particular tale, though Harry had little chance of hearing it from him.
“Who?” asked Ginny, curious.
“Snape,” Harry replied bitterly. As usual, whenever his thoughts turned to the murderous traitor who had killed Dumbledore, Harry felt his anger rise and his blood begin to boil. Now more than anything, he wanted to confront the former potions master who had committed such an unspeakable act of betrayal. He needed to, whether a prophecy ruled their fate or not.
As he recalled his last confrontation with Snape, Harry was reminded of the potions book he had used all year. He bitterly remembered that it had belonged to Snape once, when Snape had created a new name as a student at Hogwarts and called himself the Half-Blood Prince. Harry had stowed the book in the Room of Requirement, after he had used the Sectumsempra curse on Malfoy and needed to hide the book from Snape. He had not gone back for the book, but it occurred to Harry that he might do well to retrieve it, were he to meet his former professor in the future. Snape had bested him easily the night he escaped from Hogwarts and revealed his true identity, and Harry knew he would need all the help he could get when he met the greasy-haired man once more.
“Come on,” he said to Ginny, pulling her hand in a new direction.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she followed him up the main staircase.
“To the Room of Requirement,” he replied, leaping over the trick stair and leading her up to the seventh floor.
Once outside the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy where the Room of Requirement was magically concealed, Harry paced the corridor three times, thinking of the vast cavernous room where he had stashed the potions book. When the door appeared, he quickly glanced up and down the hallway before entering quietly. He took out his wand to light the way, and Ginny followed closely behind him.
“Wow,” she breathed, gazing around at the mountains of treasure that had been left behind by countless numbers of Hogwarts students. A pile of sherry bottles was stacked by the door, and a Fanged Frisbee struggled feebly to get off the ground. A gleaming golden bowling ball sat untouched with a set of tenpins and a pair of purple bowling shoes, and an enchanted string quartet played dimly in a far corner.
“I know,” said Harry softly. “Imagine what you could find here.” He lead the way down one of the many aisles of clutter toward the cabinet where he had stashed the potions book.
“Harry, this place is amazing,” Ginny said, holding up a stunningly carved wooden phoenix. “But what is it, and what are we looking for?”
“When you need to hide something, this place shows up,” Harry told her. “I hid the Half-Blood Prince’s book in here, after Snape caught me with Draco in the bathroom.”
Ginny wrinkled up her nose as she put down the phoenix. “Hermione won’t like that you came back for Snape’s book, you know.”
Harry grinned, and winked at her as he continued down the aisle. “Then we just won’t tell her, okay? At least not until one of those spells saves her life.”
“I don’t know, Harry,” said Ginny, reaching for a beautiful set of light blue robes. “It is Dark Magic, after all, she might be ri - ” The rest of her sentence was cut off by a loud crash and a strangled yelp.
Harry whirled around and rushed back to where Ginny was tangled up in the blue robes. A large portrait, covered in brown paper, had fallen from a nearby cabinet. It had knocked over several items before landing hard at Ginny’s feet. As Harry helped her out of the mess of blue robes, he heard a noise from the portrait that sounded like a person calling out. The voice was achingly familiar to his ears.
Harry stared at the portrait. It had a beautiful silver frame, which was covered in a flowing design of scrollwork. The brown paper had ripped across the front. “Hello?” he asked tentatively, holding his breath as his heart started pounding loudly in his ears.
The portrait uttered something Harry couldn’t understand. After a wide-eyed nod from Ginny, they tore the paper from the portrait, hoping to meet the painting’s subject, not daring to believe it might be -
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry breathed.
The portrait featured a tall, thin man with long auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes, and Harry immediately recognized the headmaster’s younger self. Professor Dumbledore was dressed in exceptional midnight blue robes, and was standing next to a beautiful woman Harry had never seen before. She was also tall, and pale, but her eyes were closed, as if she were sleeping. Her long dark hair was arranged in a complicated series of braids and ribbons, and she was dressed in the same light blue robes that had fallen on Ginny. Harry heard Ginny murmur under her breath, “She looks familiar.” He did not recognize the woman himself.
“Good evening, Harry, and Miss Weasley.” The portrait Dumbledore nodded to them both, a smile on his face. “It is good to see you both, and together no less.”
“It’s good to see you, sir,” said Harry, his throat tight with emotion. He felt Ginny take his hand again, and when he looked at her, he saw that her eyes were very bright.
“I imagine it would be,” sighed the portrait. “The fact that I am able to speak with you can only mean one thing. I am very sorry for your loss, Harry.”
Harry frowned: was the headmaster offering condolences for his own death? Shaking off his confusion, Harry set in on the dozens of questions he had for the headmaster. “Sir, what happened? What are you doing here? How can we talk now? Who is that woman with you? Why did Snape - ”
The portrait Dumbledore raised his hands and laughed. It was the same laugh Harry had heard so often during his time at Hogwarts, and it caused him a sharp stab of pain to hear again. “One question at a time, Harry! I imagine you must have many, but I cannot answer them all.”
“But sir - ” Harry began.
“I am dead, Harry. Please allow me a small respite from questioning. I will tell you all you need to know, when the time is right.”
Harry was somewhat angry: Dumbledore had been putting off his questions for six years, and now even the headmaster’s portrait was evading him and treating him like a child. The man in the portrait seemed to sense Harry’s feelings, and sighed again.
“All right, then - a few answers.” The headmaster gathered his thoughts while Harry and Ginny settled comfortably on the floor to listen carefully.
“What am I doing here? I am here because I put myself, or rather this portrait, in this room. It was a very long time ago, and I had almost forgotten it was here. When the subject of a portrait dies, the portrait becomes animated, which is why I am now able to converse with you.
“As for the woman with me, you see she is not quite awake yet.” Harry thought he saw the smallest frown pass across Professor Dumbledore’s face, but it was instantly replaced as the headmaster’s eyes softened and he smiled at the beautiful woman next to him.
“Nevertheless - Harry, Ginny - this is my wife, Cathryn.”
* * *
A/N: This story was written for the August Challenge - Weddings. We do not know much about Professor Dumbledore's background, but it seemed to me that it was certainly possible that sometime over the course his long life he was once married. He is, after all, a man capable of great love. This story will tell that tale.
Many thanks to Ritta, mugglemathdork, for beta-reading this story! And as always, to J.K.Rowling for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Love is the magician that pulls man out of his own hat. ~Ben Hecht
Albus Dumbledore walked purposefully down the street, his robes billowing lightly in the midsummer breeze. He had several errands to accomplish, the first of which took him to a red telephone booth in the heart of Muggle London. Although he could have Apparated to the Ministry of Magic, Albus felt like walking; he was enjoying the sunshine and the sights as he turned over the many thoughts in his mind.
The Minister of Magic had asked to meet with him in light of the recent escalation of violence in Europe. The Muggle war was rapidly reaching epic proportions, and the wizarding community was beginning to struggle with its own problems stemming from the conflict. Parallel to the rise of Muggle prejudices fueling the war, a renewed round of pureblood fanaticism was developing in the European wizarding world, encouraged by the charismatic leadership of a wizard from an old European family by the name of Grindelwald.
Albus had met Grindelwald once before. He had found him to be a very intelligent, articulate speaker who could captivate an audience with impassioned rhetoric and charismatic style. While the man had appeared both earnest and sincere, Albus had sensed something slightly foreboding about him. Grindelwald was not afraid to express his strong opinions on wizarding heritage or the International Statute of Secrecy. These beliefs conflicted strongly with Albus’ own feelings on both subjects. Grindelwald had also been very clear about his aspirations to rule and his desire for power, under the guise of gently guiding wizarding society as its selfless leader. But while others had praised a man driven and focused on his goals, Albus had instead sensed a wizard who would do anything to attain them, and at any cost.
The Minister for Magic not only wished to discuss the Muggle response to the war with Germany, but the wizarding world’s reaction to it. He had hinted at increasing concerns regarding Grindelwald, concerns that Albus had been warning him about for several years. Grindelwald’s divisive polemics had begun to take root in Britain, and the Ministry had done little to discourage the elitist sentiment that characterized the movement. Because Albus had several other reasons to be in London, he had agreed to meet with the Minister for one hour; otherwise, he would have refused on the grounds of his upcoming marriage the following day.
Albus smiled as he thought about Cathryn, and the ceremony they would soon celebrate at Hogwarts. He was meeting her later in Diagon Alley, after his meeting with the Minister. They had an appointment for a final fitting of their wedding robes at Madam Malkin’s, and were hoping to spend a pleasant night together at the Muggle symphony.
Thoughts of war, weddings, and robes were pushed from his mind as Albus turned the corner to find the red phone booth which led into the Ministry of Magic. The telephone box was a recent addition to the charms protecting the building. Albus found it quaint and endearing, a reminder of how close the wizarding community lived with the Muggle world.
Stepping into the shiny red booth, Albus lifted the receiver and dialed the magical code that would connect him to the operator. A bright voice answered as if in the booth with him, politely inquiring his name and the reason for his visit.
“Albus Dumbledore, here to see the Minister for Magic. I have an appointment.”
“Thank you. Have a pleasant visit at the Ministry, Professor,” answered the Ministry welcome witch.
“Thank-you, Miss Smith,” replied Albus cordially as the phone booth began to descend to the level of the Ministry’s new underground atrium. Stepping out of the phone booth, Albus was immediately struck by how much progress had been made since his last visit. The wizards who were enchanting the ceiling had finished more than half of it, and a large sculpture was being erected in the fountain located at the center of the room. The fireplaces on either side of the long hall were all working as wizards and witches used the Floo network for their transportation needs.
Albus nodded to several acquaintances as he crossed the long open space, and made his way to the small station at the other end of the hall, where a single wizard welcomed visitors and examined their wands. “Good afternoon, Samuel,” said Albus, smiling at the earnest young man who took his job very seriously.
“Good afternoon, sir!” Samuel barked, standing straight and tall as he waited patiently for the older man to offer his wand. With a smile, Albus let Samuel place the wand on the magical scale, and thanked him when he handed the wand back with both hands, as if afraid to break it.
“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, sir,” said Samuel as Albus passed by the desk into the Ministry itself. Albus smiled at the young man’s formal language.
“Thank you, Samuel. I am quite delighted to be celebrating such an occasion at my age.” He winked at the guard and was pleased when Samuel blushed.
“You are a very lucky man, sir. Ms. Beckett is a beautiful witch.” He was practically stammering in embarrassment, but seemed determined to offer his sincere best wishes.
“And sneaky, too,” replied Albus. “Do you know that just last month she hexed my favorite pair of slippers? They barked for a week.” He laughed as Samuel’s blush paled at the seemingly intimate information he was privy to. “Never let a lady near your treasured possessions, Samuel.” Shaking his head with another laugh, Albus tipped his hat to Samuel and continued on.
Stepping into a lift, Albus signaled the wizard in charge that he wished to visit Level One. When the lift clattered to a stop, Albus stepped out and made his way to the Minister’s office. He suddenly wished he were listening to the Proms in London with his future wife, instead of once more trying to solve the Ministry’s problems for them.
“Cathryn!” Albus exclaimed, taking her hands and kissing her on the cheek. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Only several hours,” she replied with a laugh, sitting down at the small table she had taken over with books and parchments on Ancient Runes, and signaling to the barkeeper. Albus pulled out a chair and joined her. “You know I don’t mind, Albus. An afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron is always a day well spent,” she added as the barkeeper walked up to the table. She winked at Albus when the young man tripped slightly and blushed at her comment.
“This is Tom,” Cathryn continued. “He has been keeping me company in your upsetting absence. He’s taking over for Henry.” Albus nodded politely to Tom and ordered a Firewhisky; Cathryn raised her eyebrows at his order as the barkeeper walked away. “Rough meeting, then?” she asked with a smile.
Albus sighed. “It was indeed. The situation in both the Muggle world and our own continues to worsen. The new Muggle Prime Minister seems quite good “ I should very much like to meet him - but I’m afraid our own leaders are having a difficult time dealing with things.”
Cathryn frowned slightly. “Do you mean the problems with Grindelwald? But I thought his influence was confined to the European continent.”
“It appears he is gaining a stronger foothold in Britain than is commonly known. Thank you,” said Albus, as Tom delivered his Firewhisky. He took a sip and felt the fiery liquid coat his throat. A small puff of smoke escaped his lips as he set down the glass and continued. “There have been a number of small incidents, though none have been violent. The Ministry is very concerned, but as usual has no idea what to do about it.”
“And did you enlighten them, dear?” she asked with a small smile, sipping her own cup of tea.
“Of course I did,” he answered, missing the teasing tone in her voice. “I’ve been saying the same thing for years, but I’m afraid the Ministry has never been very proactive, only reactive.” He sighed and took a longer sip of Firewhisky; smoke poured from his ears.
Cathryn smiled fondly. “You should have accepted their last job offer, you could have changed things. Has the Minister spoken to the Muggle leader? What is his name, Churchill? If he is as good as they say, perhaps he might be able to help.”
Albus shook his head. “Churchill has his hands full with the Muggle conflict. I’m told his reaction to learning about the wizarding world this past May was something along the lines of ‘Tell me again when the war is over.’ He is simply overwhelmed.”
Cathryn finished her tea and began to pack up the books she had been reading. “You met with the Minister and offered your best advice. You have other things to think about now.”
Albus finished his Firewhisky and let out a small, flaming burp. “Excuse me!” He helped his fiancée to her feet and took the heavy bag of books she had been studying. “I assume you mean the incredibly important task of robe fitting.”
Cathryn slapped him lightly on the arm. “We can’t very well be married without any clothes.”
“Why not?” asked Albus as they left the pub through the back and entered Diagon Alley. “Many ancient societies married naked. It might be refreshing.” He wagged his eyebrows at her and was rewarded with his favorite look of mixed exasperation and amusement.
“Really, Albus! Be decent. I don’t think our guests would appreciate the sight of a hundred year old naked man in front of them.” They made their way through the crowded streets of the magical alleyway of shops.
“Touché!” he laughed, and taking her hand they continued on their way to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, enjoying their time alone together before the wedding the following day.
As they walked, Albus let his eyes wander around the alley, until they were drawn to a small speck high in the clear blue sky. Squinting into the sun, Albus saw a large red and gold bird flying above them. It was dipping and diving through the air in joyful flight, and he noticed immediately that the bird was a phoenix. As if it had felt Albus’ gaze, the phoenix let out a beautiful cry and swooped down towards them; they felt the rush of its wings as it continued its airborne dance and returned to the currents aloft. Other wizards stopped and pointed at the stunning bird. Albus shook his head, astonished: a phoenix was a pleasantly rare sight anywhere, but a truly unique one to experience in London.
“It’s beautiful,” Cathryn said softly, still gazing at the sky. “I wonder what it is doing here in London.”
Albus was quiet as he pondered the strange sighting. He felt as if the phoenix were watching over them as it continued to soar through the sky. And though he felt lucky to see such a bird, he also felt a strange sense of unease. He did not answer, and they finished their trip to Madam Malkin’s in contemplative silence.
Entering the shop, Albus and Cathryn were greeted by an ancient witch with white hair and yellow robes. She hunched over when she walked, squinted at her customers, and spoke in a high, wispy voice.
“The future Dumbledores! Come in, come in!” She led them to the back of the shop, where she introduced them to a younger witch in maroon robes who had a magical measuring tape draped around her shoulders. “This is my daughter; she’ll be helping with your final measurements.”
The younger Miss Malkin nodded, and handed them each a set of fine blue robes. “Please try these on and we’ll make the final adjustments over here.”
Stepping into a small changing room, Albus pulled on his blue robes and took a moment to admire the fine craftsmanship. He had probably never owned such an exquisite item of clothing. The robes were a deep dark blue, and the material seemed to ripple like water. It was lined with green satin, and trimmed with delicate emerald stitching in a complex pattern of knotwork and scrolls. If he had been interested in such things, Albus had to admit the robes matched his blue eyes perfectly, and set off his auburn hair nicely.
Walking back into the shop, Albus stopped short when he saw Cathryn standing in front of a large mirror, where Miss Malkin was making the final adjustments to her own stunning robes. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the beautiful witch who would soon be his wife.
Cathryn’s robes were a lighter shade of blue, almost grey, a perfect compliment to Albus’ darker robes. They were made of a shimmery material that reflected the light and made it seem as if a hundred stars lit the gown from underneath. The robes were lined with spring green satin and like his own were trimmed with complicated fine green stitching. Cathyrn had pulled up her long chocolate brown hair and secured it with her wand; a few strands had escaped down her long neck, framing her pale face and grey eyes. She was more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
“What are you staring at, young man?” asked Madam Malkin as she stumped in. She pushed Albus toward a raised dais, where she proceeded to adjust his robes. “You’ll see plenty of her tomorrow.”
“She looks amazing,” Albus said softly, finding himself at a rare loss for words. “You’ve done marvelous work.”
Cathryn turned her head and smiled at him. “You clean up nicely yourself, Professor.”
Albus could only shake his head, somewhat overwhelmed. Tomorrow he would be marrying this incredible woman. In spite of the horrors raging in the world around them, he would be joining his soul mate and living the life he had always hoped for. They were incredibly blessed.
Madam and Miss Malkin finished the robes shortly afterwards. The wedding finery was wrapped and sent by owl to Hogwarts for the ceremony the following day. Albus and Cathryn left the shop with many wishes for a long life of happiness together. They made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and passed back into the Muggle world. They did not see the phoenix bird again.
Holding hands, Albus and Cathryn walked to a small but elegant restaurant on the river. It was owned by a Squib named Orsino. He was a genial bear-like man who greeted them by name at the door, and ushered them personally to a small table by the windows.
“What brings you to London tonight?” Orsino asked in a great booming voice.
“We are attending the concert at the Proms,” answered Albus. “I should like a glass of wine and the house special.”
Orsino nodded, turned to Cathryn, and bowed deeply. “And what may I get for you, my lady?” he asked formally. Albus raised his eyebrows as Cathryn allowed the dark-haired maître d' to kiss her hand.
“Charming,” she said, smiling. “Too bad I’m engaged. I should like a glass of wine as well, along with the chicken risotto.”
With another bow, Orsino left for the kitchen. He returned shortly with two long-stemmed glasses and a chilled bottle of wine. “Compliments of the house,” he said, pouring them each a drink. “With our congratulations.”
“Thank you,” they both replied. Orsino left them, and with unspoken agreement they raised their glasses in a private toast.
“To our future,” said Cathryn.
“And our past,” added Albus, and together they drank deeply. Setting his glass down, he motioned to the maître d'. Orsino returned to the table once more with a large box wrapped simply in brown paper and topped by a brilliant blue and green bow. Cathryn narrowed her eyes as Orsino returned to the kitchen.
“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts,” she said somewhat accusingly, though her eyes were sparkling in anticipation.
“We’re not,” Albus answered. “This is simply a random, but timely, token of my love for a beautiful woman. I couldn’t resist it when I came across it this afternoon.”
“That’s why you were late!” she laughed, ripping the bow from the box with the enthusiasm of a child. “Then the wait was certainly worth it. I had a lovely chat with Tom the barman and I get a - ” She stopped short as she lifted the lid and saw what lay underneath. “Oh, Albus “ it’s wonderful!”
Gently she lifted a shallow silver basin from the box and set it on the table. The basin was made of stone and various runes and symbols were carved around the edge. It was empty, but Cathryn immediately knew what it was. “A Pensieve!” she exclaimed. “Wherever did you find it?”
“At Ollivander’s, of all places,” replied Albus, pleased at her response. “Somehow he had managed to procure two of them, and was kind enough to offer me the second one. I know how much you’ve wanted one.”
Cathryn’s eyes were very bright as she reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
“You are quite welcome, my dear.” Albus gazed at her, watching as she explored the new Pensieve. It made him immensely satisfied to have made her so happy; he could only hope that he would continue to do so for the rest of their lives together.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the window. Albus saw a snowy owl carrying a message, pecking urgently at the glass. Orsino was there immediately, and opened the window as the other diners turned to see what was happening. To Albus’ surprise, the owl landed on their table and held out a leg to him. He took the parchment, and with a hoot the owl flew out of the window. The other patrons turned back to their meals, hardly blinking an eye.
Albus frowned as he read over a message from the Minister for Magic.
“What is it?” asked Cathryn with a worried expression. Albus sighed as he rolled up the parchment.
“Apparently, the Minister had good reason to be concerned about Grindelwald: there’s been an attack on Muggleborns here in London. I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend the concert tonight, he’d like to see me again.”
Cathryn looked disappointed but supportive. “It’s okay, I understand. I’ll just head back to Hogwarts and play with my new gift. I can make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”
Albus shook his head. “I’m so sorry. This is not how I wanted to spend tonight. You should still go to the concert. What is Jane doing tonight?” Jane was Cathryn’s only daughter. Her father, Cathryn’s first husband, had been a Muggle captain during the first war in Europe. He had been killed in battle when Jane was a small girl.
“She’s in Hogsmeade already, visiting friends,” replied Cathryn. “Really, Albus “ I don’t mind. We’ll be back in London in a few weeks, and we can try to see the symphony then.”
“Well, I’m finishing my dinner, at the very least,” said Albus as Orsino delivered two steaming plates of delicious food to the table with yet another bow. “The Minister can wait fifteen minutes.” He picked up his fork and began to eat his dinner, feeling somewhat irritated at the interruption to his night.
“Did the Minister say what had happened?” asked Cathryn curiously.
“Only that there was a fight outside the Ministry itself. Apparently a small demonstration in support of Grindelwald’s pureblood policies deteriorated into violence.” Albus shook his head and sighed. “This is exactly what we discussed this afternoon. I can’t believe it’s happened so soon.”
Cathryn looked worried. “Do you suppose it will be safe to have the wedding tomorrow? There will be a number of Muggleborns and half-bloods there, including Jane. I’d hate for anything to happen, perhaps we should wait.”
Albus looked up in surprise. “Absolutely not! We can’t let the possibility of something going wrong keep us from living our lives. We may as well hole up in Hogwarts with our heads in the ground and hope it all passes us by. You know I am not that kind of wizard, and you aren’t such a witch. We will take every precaution we can tomorrow. The wedding will be as safe as anywhere in Britain.”
“Should we postpone our trip then?” she asked, sipping her wine but still looking concerned.
“Of course not,” he answered firmly. “We’ll stay in touch with Hogwarts and the Ministry as needed and hope it won’t be necessary to cut short our vacation.” Taking her hand, Albus looked deep into Cathryn’s eyes. “We will be married tomorrow, and we will take our trip, and we will live a long, happy life together. No war and no wizard can stop us, I promise.”
Cathryn squeezed his hand and smiled back, her eyes bright. “You’re right, of course. I overreacted.”
Albus returned to his plate. “It is a habit of the very young,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood. He was glad to hear her laugh, though she did not offer back her usual clever retort.
Finishing his meal, Albus stood and kissed her on the cheek. “I’d rather you didn’t return to Diagon Alley alone. I believe Orsino is connected to the Floo network. You should be able to return to Hogwarts from here.”
She nodded, and stood up to hug him. “Of course. Be careful, though. And come back soon. I’ll be worried until you do.”
Albus nodded and winked. “I can handle myself. I have somewhat of a reputation after all. And I have an important date tomorrow to look forward to. Travel safely. I’ll see you back at Hogwarts.”
With another quick kiss, Albus turned and left the restaurant through the back door. He would Apparate to the Ministry, where the Minister was no doubt pacing in panic as he waited. Albus shook his head as he pondered the sudden turn of events. Grindelwald’s influence was apparently spreading and gaining strength faster than any of them had thought. The Muggle conflict aside, Albus suddenly feared for the first time that the wizarding world was on the brink of its own war.
* * *
A/N: Thank you to Ritta, mugglemathdork, for her hard work as my beta! She has endured far too many PM’s from me regarding this story and I appreciate her wonderful support!
He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began. ~Leo Tolstoy
Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the mirror in his office, adjusting his dark blue dress robes as he thought about his upcoming wedding, and the ill-timed circumstances surrounding what should have been a happy day. Tensions in the wizarding world had dramatically increased, now that Grindelwald’s influence had made its official presence known in Britain with the disastrous events of the night before. The Muggle war continued to deteriorate. Though every possible magical precaution had been taken to ensure the safety of the wedding guests, Albus was still worried. He was not accustomed to such feelings, and frowned at his reflection.
“What’s the matter, dearie?” asked the mirror in a kind voice “You seem out of sorts for a man about to be married.”
Albus sighed. “On the contrary, I am extraordinarily happy to be married. However, I must admit that I am somewhat worried.”
If the mirror itself had a face, it would have smiled at Albus in sympathetic understanding. “You’re not the first groom who has said that, dear. You’ll make a wonderful husband, and you look marvelous.”
“Thank you,” replied Albus, with a laugh. “Not what I was particularly worried about, but I’ll take whatever reassurance I can.” However, his smile only glossed over a deeper worry: Grindelwald had pledged to bring his hateful rhetoric to England, and the Ministry had mistakenly underestimated the dark wizard’s power and influence. With violence now breaking out in the wizarding community, it appeared that Grindelwald had successfully accomplished his goal. Albus was worried about the future, and not just as a married man, but as a wizard and citizen of Britain as well.
His thoughts were interrupted when the doors to his office were unceremoniously flung open by two wizards dressed in emerald green robes. One stumped in with a grunt and began to pace, the other walked in gracefully and sat in a nearby chair.
“Albus, for once in your life you actually look nervous,” growled his brother, Aberforth. “Or maybe it’s just these damned robes. Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe these eyesores.” He tugged uselessly at his collar, which was embroidered with blue trim that matched Albus’s robes.
“I think they’re quite nice,” said the other man in a refined tone of voice. “Very comfortable and absolutely stunning. ”
Aberforth snorted. “You would think so, Aldred. You’ve been working underground for too long. The Department of Mysteries has addled your brain.”
Aldred raised his eyebrows. “And the Hog’s Head has done wonders for yours, I see.”
Albus turned around with a genuine smile on his face as his brother and cousin exchanged more banter. It set him at ease; if the two men were bickering as normal, the rest of the day would follow as well. He would worry about the state of the world later.
“All right, it’s my wedding day,” he said, turning away from the mirror. “May I request an afternoon of peace from you both, as a gift? Under pain of a very unpleasant Transfiguration spell?”
Aberforth gave a barking laugh. “I’ll try but I can’t promise I won’t turn him into a goat if he starts anything.”
Aldred looked indignant. “Couldn’t you at least muck around with a decent animal for once? I’d prefer a horse at the very least, or perhaps a raven.”
“Enough!” laughed Albus. “I’ll be right out. Please give me a minute.” Aberforth stumped out, muttering insults, while Aldred followed, throwing sarcastic retorts in response.
Albus took a final look in the mirror. He adjusted his robes for the third time and straightened his half-moon spectacles. Reluctantly he admitted to himself that he was indeed somewhat nervous about the prospect of being married within the hour. What man wouldn’t be? He loved Cathryn with all his heart and wanted more than anything to spend a long and happy life together. What was there to worry about then, other than war and politics and hateful prejudices? He shook his head at his reflection, and laughed at himself for having such maudlin thoughts on his wedding day. Taking a deep breath, he fluffed his beard and smoothed down his hair one last time before turning away from the mirror.
“Good luck, dear,” called the mirror. “She’s a lucky woman, you know.” Albus could have sworn he heard a sniff.
“And I’m a lucky man,” he replied softly, knowing full well that he was more than lucky. He was blessed.
As he walked toward the door, Albus saw a small package lying on a table; he had not noticed it earlier. Feeling a pleasant surge of anticipation, he tore the wrapping from the small box and opened it. A wide smile broke out across his face when he removed the lid and saw the gift that lay inside. It was a stunning gold watch, with twelve tiny planets moving around the edge instead of numbers. Albus was mesmerized, and could hardly stop staring at its timeless beauty. There was a tiny inscription on the back:
Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear,
too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice.
But for those who love, time is eternity.
Love always, Cathryn
August 10, 1940
The gift was exquisite, the inscription perfect. Albus felt his eyes tear over as he placed the watch in the pocket of his robes. Cathryn was truly a remarkable woman to be able to do such things to him. Wiping away any signs of wetness, he took a deep breath and smiled. He made his way to the Great Hall, where he would be finally marrying the most amazing woman he had ever known.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts had not hosted a wedding for centuries. Professor Merrythought, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had gone all out with decorations in preparation for the special day. The walls were draped in blue silk, falling like waterfalls from the enchanted ceiling, where hundreds of stars twinkled overhead in a clear cloudless sky. Golden candles floated at regular intervals along the blue walls, set in groups of three and surrounded by wreaths of red roses. The long house tables had been stored away and replaced with dozens of smaller tables and chairs for the wedding guests. Each table was draped in blue silk and set with matching flowers and china.
The raised dais at the front of the hall was also cleared of tables. The only decoration was a large iron candelabrum placed in the center of the platform, bearing four unlit tapers and set with roses and silver ribbon. On the wall behind the candelabra hung a large Hogwarts banner, flanked by smaller banners representing the two Houses which would be joined that day: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. A rich green carpet ran down the center of the hall to the dais, and a company of golden fairies sat ready to throw rose petals along the path when the bride entered. An enchanted string quartet played soft music to entertain the waiting guests.
An official from the Ministry of Magic stood in front of the candelabrum, his wand held loosely in his hands as he waited for the ceremony to begin. He was a tall man, with grey hair, a trim beard, and deep green eyes that spoke of great love. He was an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, and it was his job to perform the wizarding marriage rites.
Albus Dumbledore entered through a side door and stood at the foot of the dais, his brother and cousin standing next to him. The Ministry official waved his wand at the quartet behind him, and the enchanted instruments began to play a stirring march. Everyone in the hall stood as the golden fairies made their way down the green carpet, flinging rose petals everywhere, including at the wedding guests. Albus rolled his eyes at Cathryn’s odd sense of romantic tradition, but was suddenly left breathless as she entered the hall, escorted by her daughter Jane, and best friend, Mary.
The stunning blue robes she had tried on the day before positively glowed in the candlelight. Her chocolate brown hair was arranged in a complicated series of braids and curls, and entwined with blue ribbons that ran like water through her brilliant hair. Her grey eyes were sparkling with joy as she gazed lovingly at Albus. She carried a single red rose, and smiled as she walked gracefully down the aisle. The string quartet swelled as she took her place next to Albus at the front of the hall.
“Close your mouth,” she whispered with a wink, and Albus had to shake himself as if out of a dream. They turned and faced the grey-haired wizard joining them together that day.
“Friends and family, I welcome you to Hogwarts as we celebrate the union between Cathryn and Albus. Tonight the separate threads of their lives shall be woven into a single grand tapestry of love.”
The official began by turning first to Cathryn. “What is your name?” he asked, in a pleasant baritone voice.
“Cathryn Elizabeth Rufford Beckett,” she replied.
“And what is your wish?”
“To join with he whom I love.”
The grey-haired wizard then turned to Albus and asked the same question. “What is your name?”
“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” he answered, his eyes twinkling at the ancient ritual; he saw his brother hold in a snort at the lengthy name.
“And what is your wish?”
“To join with she whom I love.”
The official smiled and cleared his throat. He lifted his long holly and conjured a length of shining silver ribbon. “You have stated your intent, now you must affirm your pledge to one other. Please place your hands together, and answer ‘We will’ to each question.”
Albus took Cathryn’s hand in his, and they raised their joined hands in front of the official. She squeezed his fingers tightly and gave him the small secret smile that always made his heart skip a beat.
“Will you pledge your loyalty and support to one another in times of both happiness and sorrow?”
With one voice they answered, “We will.” The official waved his wand and the silver ribbon wrapped around their hands once, tying itself into a knot.
“Will you pledge to be honest with one another in all things you say and do?”
“We will,” they answered together, and the ribbon wrapped itself around their bound wrists a second time, creating a second knot.
“Will you pledge to temper your words and actions, and live your new life together, with love and compassion?”
“We will.” The ribbon tied a third knot around their bound hands.
“These things you have pledged to each other, before this company and one another. With these words and with this ribbon you are now bound to this pledge.”
The official tapped the ribbon with his wand, undoing the knots and Transfiguring the ribbon into a dozen silver fairies. They flew into the hall, joining the golden fairies as they floated among the guests. “You may now speak your vows to one another.”
Albus and Cathryn continued to hold hands, and stepped up to the candelabrum. They drew their wands, and conjured a small flame each; hers was blue, and his was crimson red.
Albus lit the first candle while making his vow: “With this light from the North, I promise you love, loyalty, and strength.”
Cathryn added her own blue fire to the candle, and answered, “I will hold your promise in my heart, and promise you the same,” she answered. The combined flame burned clear white. Then she stepped around the candelabrum to the next taper. “With this light from the South, I promise you love, passion, and desire.”
“I will hold your promise in my heart, and promise you the same,” Albus answered, joining his flame with hers. As the fire burned clear, he moved to the third candle. “With this light from the East, I promise you love, laughter, and hope.”
Cathryn spoke the answer, and lit the last candle. “With this light from the West, I promise you love, honesty, and understanding.”
“I will hold your promise in my heart, and promise you the same,” finished Albus.
After lighting the final candle, they stepped back and watched, as the four flames burned higher and higher. They twisted and twined together, joining together as one as they reached toward the starry sky. At some point high above them, the single stream of golden light burst into a hundred smaller beams. They fell from the air and wrapped themselves harmlessly around the couple, enveloping them in golden ribbons of fire.
The Ministry official stepped up in front of them once more. “Bound by a pledge, encircled by a promise: as a symbol of your new life together and a reminder of your vows, I ask you to exchange these rings as token of your love.” He performed a complicated twirl in the air with his wand, and a pair of rings appeared: one silver and the other gold. They were engraved with a beautiful design of scrollwork.
“May the element of Air bless these rings, for hopes and dreams and everlasting love.” The official conjured a breeze that fluttered across the room and brushed against the silver and gold rings.
“May the element of Water bless these rings, for harmony and healing and undying love.” A stream of water appeared from the official’s holly wand, cascading over the rings like a fountain, and disappearing before hitting the dais.
“May the element of Fire bless these rings, for the spark of love and the warmth of compassion.” A jet of red flame shot from the tip of his wand, engulfing the rings in harmless fire.
“And may the element of Earth bless these rings, for strength and stability.” A small flower appeared from the tip of the official’s wand, and Cathryn laughed; the official winked at her, and taking the rings, he handed one to each of them.
“These rings shall serve as a reminder of your vows to one another. May you wear these symbols of everlasting life proudly on your hands as a symbol too of your everlasting love.”
Albus placed the silver ring on Cathryn’s hand; when he had finished, he gallantly took her fingers and kissed them. She rolled her eyes even as she smiled joyfully. She then placed the golden ring on his hand, and together they turned toward the grey-haired official one last time.
“In pledging your love to one another, you have bound your lives together through all time. May the winds of communication blow between you; may the fire of love warm you; may the waters of life sustain you; and may the strength of the Earth steady you.”
The grey-haired man paused, his green eyes suddenly drawn to a fluttering movement in the back of the hall. A burst of bird-song filled the eaves, and Albus turned around to see the flame red phoenix from Diagon Alley swirling through stars above them, singing a glorious song. The wedding guests gasped, and followed the bird through the air: it was a truly magical omen to have a phoenix appear at a wedding. Though the bird was a symbol of love and loyalty, Albus experienced the same unease he had felt the previous day. Turning back to Cathryn, Albus saw tears in her eyes. He squeezed her hand, and she smiled. Together they waited for the final pronouncement as the phoenix perched on an empty chair, silent.
The official made one last gesture with his wand. “And may you live your life guided by, watched over, and filled with the love you have shared today.” The golden ribbons of light surrounding them dissolved into a pale pink glow that enveloped the couple in its soft light. The Ministry official nodded in approval, and stepped back. Albus and Cathryn leaned in and kissed, sealing the final charm which bound them to one another. The mysterious phoenix let out a single piercing note. The pale pink glow surrounding them burst into a hundred rose petals that showered the couple. They broke apart, laughing in surprise.
“Just another little personal touch,” laughed the grey-haired man with another wink. “Congratulations Albus and Cathryn. You are now man and woman, wizard and witch, husband and wife. Two joined as one, for all eternity.” He raised his wand and sent up a jet of pale green sparks.
Turning around, Albus and Cathryn found the rest of the hall awash with a rainbow of color as the wedding guests raised their wands in tribute. The string quartet broke into a sprightly Irish jig, and a great cheering broke out.
Albus took Cathryn’s face in his hands, and kissed her soundly once more. “I do love you,” he whispered softly.
“I know,” she whispered back, tickling his ear with her breath. “And I love you. Ready for the party?”
“My favorite part of the evening!” he exclaimed as they joined hands and made their way down the green carpet to the back of the hall. Dozens of silver and gold fairies surrounded them as sparks continued to fill the air, and the string quartet fiddled away an Irish reel.
“I thought that was later,” Cathryn teased, drawing a rare blush from Albus Dumbledore.
“My dear,” he replied with an impish grin, “you have no idea.”
Their life together had begun, with love and laughter, music and magic. For one night the world stood still for two lovers lost in a timeless joy, as friends and family surrounded them in celebration. The phoenix sang one last beautiful song for the blessed couple, and flew off into the starry night.
* * *
A/N: The quotation on the watch is by Henry Van Dyke. The rituals used in the wedding ceremony were gathered through various online sources. I rewrote the majority of the text to fit my own needs, and added the magical bits and pieces. Thank you to mugglemathdork for her great beta work! I hope you enjoyed this magical wedding, I am rather pleased with how it turned out for them.
True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.
~François, duc de La Rochefoucauld
Albus Dumbledore leaned on the ramparts of a very old and beautiful castle. Below him stretched a lush garden, full of rhododendrons of every size, shape, and color. A Muggle gardener tended the flowers, gently watering each plant with a large metal can and a loving hand. Albus smiled to himself when he thought how about much easier the task would be with a wand.
Quickly his mind turned to other concerns. He and Cathryn had been traveling for almost two weeks throughout Scotland. They had stopped at Brodick Castle for one last visit with Cathryn’s friend Mary before heading to London. Albus had received several owls from the Ministry, keeping him informed of developing events across the country. Within days of their wedding, Germany had stepped up its bombing of Muggle airfields. Though Britain was holding its own, it was fighting a long and difficult battle. The wizarding community was growing increasingly tense as well. A second skirmish had broken out between supporters of the European wizard Grindelwald and those who rejected his pure-blood prejudices. The friction in the wizarding world was beginning to mirror that in the Muggle world, and Albus feared an open outbreak of hostilities.
As he stood on the tower of the castle, Albus noticed a small speck in the distance and frowned. It could have been an owl, but he had the uncanny feeling that it was the same strange phoenix which had mysteriously appeared at their wedding. Though it had brought nothing but its beautiful melodies to the ceremony, Albus felt the uneasiness he had experienced at each sighting return. He was beginning to question the bird’s true purpose in following them.
Hearing a sound behind him, Albus turned and found Cathryn walking across the tower, looking upset. “What is wrong?” he asked in concern. “Has something happened?”
She was silent for a moment, her grey eyes studying him. Finally she nodded. “I did a casting with the runes,” she said quietly. “It was not. . . good.”
Albus raised his eyebrows at her. She did not usually let a casting bother her so much. “Tell me,” he said gently, leading her to a stone bench and helping her sit. She passed a hand over her eyes and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she began, giving him a wan smile. “You know I am normally much more composed. But this one worries me, Albus. I did the casting three times, and each time it predicted death.”
He nodded slowly, studying the worry in her eyes: it was genuine, and she was frightened. “What were you casting for?”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together. “I was casting for our trip to London, to see whether it would be safe, particularly on the Hogwarts Express. Each time I found a pattern of death and destruction.”
“That does not surprise me,” Albus told her, relaxing slightly. “The German army has stepped up its raids along the coasts and against the airfields. I have already advised the Minister that the Hogwarts Express should be canceled this year, and other transportation arranged.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t know if that’s it, Albus. This casting predicted danger for us, specifically. . .magical danger.” She looked him in the eyes. “It was a strong casting, Albus. I’m afraid something terrible is going to happen in London.”
Albus wrapped his arms around her, and she put her head on his shoulders. “We can’t live our lives avoiding situations that a cast of the runes tells us are threatening. You know that. We simply go in more informed and more prepared. The future isn’t written in stone, after all.” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.
“I know how you feel about Divination, Albus, but even you must admit there is something ominous going on.” She continued before he could interrupt. “I’m not talking about the Muggle war, or even Grindelwald. I’m talking about that phoenix.”
He sighed. So she had seen it as well, and had interpreted its increasing presence in their lives as a negative omen. “I know,” he said softly. “I have been wondering why the bird seems to be following us. But phoenixes are extremely powerful creatures, Cathryn. It may be a sign of something good to come.” Even as he said it, he did not believe it.
She looked skeptical as well. “The phoenix is a sign of death and rebirth, Albus. I don’t particularly feel like dying now, do you?”
Albus was silent as he pondered the mysterious bird once more. The phoenix was also a symbol of life, loyalty, and love. Perhaps that was why it was following them: they had just bound themselves to one other with great magic, perhaps the bird was drawn to their love for each other. He had never heard of such a thing happening before, but then he had not heard much about the phoenix interacting with humans at all. They were rarely domesticated as pets, despite their beautiful song, their healing properties, and their great strength. They were typically wild, rarely granting a tail feather as a wand core, let alone binding themselves to a human being.
Before Albus could answer, an owl swooped out of the sky and dropped a letter in his lap. It was from the Ministry, and Albus instinctively knew that something terrible had happened. Quickly he opened the envelope and read over the message. Open fighting had broken out among the wizarding community in Europe. Even worse, a small crowd of Grindelwald’s supporters had attacked a group of Muggle-borns in London’s Diagon Alley. One wizard had been killed, and several others injured; Albus lowered his head in sadness.
“It has finally begun,” he said softly, answering Cathryn’s unasked question. “The spark has become a fire, and it has begun to burn in Britain. A man has died because of Grindelwald’s hateful words.”
Cathryn gasped when Albus told her what had happened in Diagon Alley. “I am glad Jane is still away with friends! What is the Ministry going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I think its time we went to London,” he replied. “The Minister is extremely upset. The wizard who was killed was a close friend of his.”
Cathryn nodded, but her eyes were full of worry. “What if this is what I foresaw in the runes, Albus? Is it safe to go?”
Albus stood and held out his hand to help her up. “I’m afraid we must. We can’t live in a world where fear rules and hate kills. We must stand up and do something.”
Cathryn sighed as they went inside. “I know,” she said softly. “I just wish I knew everything was going to be all right.”
Albus did not answer. High above them, the phoenix let out a mournful cry. He looked up at the sound, his heart suddenly filled with sadness and trepidation, and watched as the great red bird flew off into the horizon. With grim determination, Albus turned to prepare for their fateful trip to London.
Beneath the castle walls the Muggle gardener also watched the bird sail away, then continued watering his flowers, oblivious to the hate in world around him as he tended his garden with love and care.
Albus and Cathryn Apparated to London, to the home of their friends Hesper and Donald Starkey. The Starkeys lived in Islington, away from Diagon Alley and the heart of the conflict. Hesper had been housemates with Cathryn at Hogwarts, and was a potions master who worked out of Diagon Alley. Donald worked at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was working overtime on increasing security given the growing rift between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns. The couple had graciously offered to let Albus and Cathryn stay with them in London, and the newlyweds had gladly taken them up on the offer, hoping to avoid the tension surrounding the magical areas of the city.
Events continued to spiral out of control. The wizarding community was incensed that one of its own had been killed, and was calling for the immediate punishment of the murderers. Those who supported Grindelwald’s divisive preaching were growing more vocal as well, and relations between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns were becoming more and more strained. Meanwhile, Muggle London was growing increasingly anxious as German bombers veered closer to the city.
Albus had spent three days straight at the Ministry in deep discussion, returning home late after particularly long Saturday. It had been a trying meeting: after much debate, the Ministry had finally agreed that Hogwarts would remain open in spite of both the growing wizarding conflict and the Muggle war. But the war especially was growing more and more desperate as enemy fighters moved closer to London in their efforts to take out Muggle airfields and radar stations. The Ministry, at Albus’ urging, had decided that the Hogwarts Express would not be safe for students. Preparations were underway for a massive organization of the Floo network in order to get students to the castle safely for the start of the new fall term.
Albus sat outside in the small garden after a belated dinner, talking quietly with Donald Starkey about the events of the day. It was a soft summer evening and the yard was a welcome respite from the fear hovering over the rest of the city. The sun set and the stars came out, and an uneasy quiet descended upon Islington as Albus and Donald settled into companionable silence. Every so often, Albus thought he heard the whir of a Muggle airplane, and he felt himself stiffen as he looked up into the dark sky. Thoughts of war overwhelmed his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the hostilities in the Muggle world were about to erupt into his own life in a terrible way. Unable to concentrate any longer, he excused himself and decided to find Cathryn, who was inside with Hesper. Several events unexpectedly happened at once.
With a loud crack and a flash of flame, the red and gold phoenix suddenly appeared in the small garden, crying loudly. In the city, great Muggle alarms began blaring, signaling an attack. Donald jumped up, his reflexes kicking in as he leveled his wand and looked around the yard for the source of danger. Cathryn came running from the house, Hesper behind her. She looked upset, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the phoenix.
“Albus!” she cried, her face pale. “It’s happening! We have to go, it isn’t safe here!”
The phoenix let out a piercing cry of warning, which was abruptly cut off by the deafening sound of a Muggle airplane. Albus looked up to see the plane in the air immediately above them, its engines whirring. It was not a British plane, which Albus recognized; it was a German fighter then, and it was directly over London. No one moved; panic rooted them to the spot. Finally Albus shook himself out of shock, and together he and Donald ran toward the two women still standing speechless.
“It’s a raid,” he shouted over the noise, as Donald motioned frantically at the women to move inside. “We need to get to the house, in the basement!” The phoenix gave another great squawk. Snapped out of their panicked inaction, Cathryn and Hesper quickly began to run toward the house, the men racing behind them. Albus did not see where the phoenix went. He only heard the strident whir of the planes overhead, and the loud thumping of his heart.
Without warning a large explosion rocked the yard. The wall around the garden was blasted apart, sending large pieces of stone everywhere. Dirt flew into the air and bits of rock pelted their unprotected bodies. A second explosion ripped through the house, and Albus saw Hesper thrown backwards with the force of it. She hit the ground hard, and Donald ran to her side, his face a sudden mask of fear. Above them, the back wall of the house began to crumple. Albus cast a shield charm as he ran, but he couldn’t hold up an entire wall of brick by himself, and he struggled as he felt his strength failing.
He was relieved when Cathryn raised her wand in front of him and strengthened his shield. Together they held the wall, keeping it from crushing their friends underneath. As if in a dream he watched as Cathryn turned to him, smiled, and then screamed as a third explosion burst behind him.
Albus felt pain as he had never felt before. He was thrown into the air and landed amid the pile of bricks he had been desperately trying to keep from falling on his friends. He felt bones break, and his body burn. He tried to move, but was pinned under a great pile of rock. The air around him was full of dust and smoke and debris. As it settled, an eerie silence closed in on the darkened scene.
Albus tried in vain to free himself from the rubble. “Lumos,” he gasped, hoping his wand would illuminate the area and help him dig out. He saw its feeble light several feet away. It showed him a vision of horror: Cathryn, also trapped under a large pile of rock. However, her eyes were closed, and her head was bloodied. Her face was deathly pale, and Albus felt his heart stop in panic. With an almost frenzied effort, he began to claw futilely at the bricks trapping him.
“Accio wand!” he shouted, and the wand flew into his hand. As he began to move the rock away, he heard a final, horrible crashing sound. Before he could react, the remainder of the house came plummeting down and pinned him underneath a crushing mound of rubble. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the sight of Cathryn, her grey eyes fluttering open, filled with love and loss. He heard the cry of the phoenix, but then the rest of the world collapsed around him, and he remembered no more.
The first thing Albus noticed as he worked his way back to consciousness was the light. It brushed against his eyelids, a gentle reminder of warmth. Then he heard sounds: of people talking in low whispers, of his own heart and steady breathing. Lastly he felt pain: a dull throbbing in his head, a stinging tenderness on his arms, and a wretched ache in his knee.
But he was alive, and with that abrupt realization, Albus sat up, blinking away tears as the sudden glare overwhelmed his sensitive eyes. He fell back as a wave of nausea passed through him. Taking deep breaths, he willed his battered body to sit up slowly the second time. He glanced around, and was immediately met with the worried stare of his cousin, Aldred.
“Albus!” exclaimed the other man, relief flooding his face as he rose from the chair next to the bed. “Thank Merlin you survived. You’re finally awake.” He turned around and called out into the hallway, “Aberforth, he’s up! Come quickly!”
Albus was confused: he wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there. “What happened?” he croaked, his throat dry. Aldred handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. The table also held his wand, the watch Cathryn had given him, and oddly enough, her Pensieve. Before Aldred could answer, however, Aberforth stomped into the room.
“We damn near lost you,” he said, his normally gruff voice softened by concern. “That’s what happened.”
Albus shook his head, trying to remember. He had been married just a few weeks ago, and had been traveling through Scotland with Cathryn until an urgent call from the Ministry had brought them back to London early. They had been staying in Islington, with friends. Albus had been outside with Donald when the phoenix had appeared and the sirens had gone off as an enemy plane had flown overhead. He remembered running toward the house, and with a sudden sharp intake of breath it all came crashing back: the explosions, the house collapsing, and his wife, bruised and bloodied.
“Where’s Cathryn?” he demanded, his heart racing. Both his cousin and his brother were silent. “What happened? Is she all right? Tell me!”
A single tear fell down Aldred’s face as he looked to Aberforth for guidance. To Albus’ amazement, his normally brusque brother gently took his hand, and spoke in a voice full of sorrow and pity. “I’m so sorry, Albus. She didn’t make it. The Healers tried so hard, but they couldn’t save her, she’s -” he broke off with a cough, his eyes glistening.
Albus stared; his heart felt like an icy stone in his chest as he struggled to understand what they were telling him. “You mean,” he said, his breathing ragged, “that she’s gone? She’s dead?”
Aberforth could only nod. “I’m so sorry,” answered Aldred, tears sliding down his cheeks. “There was nothing they could do. She was too badly injured.”
Wave after wave of shock rolled over Albus, crushing him with grief. It was a loss he couldn’t comprehend. He simply stared at them, breathing fast, unwilling to let the sobs in his throat escape. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head as the cold emptiness of despair threatened to overwhelm him.
From the window he heard a soft, musical chirp: it was the phoenix that had been following their path so frequently, and which had appeared the night of the attack. Cathryn had been right: it was an omen of death. Suddenly enraged, Albus called for his wand from the bedside table and fired a Vanishing spell at the offensive bird. With a puff of flame it disappeared, unhurt. Albus looked wildly around the room for it, swearing with a vengeance as he channeled his pain and anger at the magical bird that had cost him so much.
The phoenix reappeared at the foot of his bed, and immediately began singing a magical song. Albus raised his wand, but hesitated. The song filled him with love and hope, not anger and despair. He felt each liquid note of the phoenix song envelope him with its warmth, and he felt his icy heart begin to melt. The pain of loss he had refused to accept just moments earlier was suddenly overpowering, and he felt hot tears course down his face for the loss of his wife. The phoenix flew closer, its mournful song full of beauty and sadness. Albus felt a deep sorrow settle into his bones as he reached out to touch the bird’s head; yet the steady sense of Cathryn’s love filled his heart.
After a while the phoenix dipped its head in acknowledgement, and returned to its perch by the window. Albus wiped his face, and looked with renewed strength at his brother and cousin. “Tell me what happened. I must know.”
As they told him of the attack, images from the horrible night began to come back to him: the phoenix, appearing out of nowhere and crying its warning; the sirens blaring as airplanes skimmed the skies overhead; Cathryn, running from the house with a look of terror on her face. Albus remembered the first explosion, and the second that had sent the wall of the house crashing toward Donald and Hesper. He remembered trying to save them, and the third explosion that had trapped them all under the debris. Finally he remembered seeing Cathryn’s eyes one last time before he had blacked out.
“The Muggles responded first,” Aldred was saying quietly. “But the Ministry arrived soon after and took over. They found Cathryn, but it was too late. The Healers tried everything, but they couldn’t save her. Then they pulled you from the rubble, and brought you here. Donald and Hesper were found a just a few feet away from you and Cathryn.”
“Are they alive?” Albus interrupted, ashamed he hadn’t asked about them already. Aldred nodded and Albus let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.
“Are they here?” When Aldred nodded again, Albus swung his legs over the side of the bed for a second time, determined to go to them. “I want to see them.” As soon as he tried to take a step, he felt his legs give way, and grabbed the bed for support. Aberforth caught him and pushed him back into bed.
“You’ll have to wait until you can get there,” he said gruffly. “Healers can’t work miracles, you were pretty beat up when they brought you in. Damn near lost your leg.”
Albus absently rubbed his knee. It was stiff and sore, and he felt a strange scar disfiguring the entire area. His whole body was tired and achy; he could not recall ever feeling so unwell. With a sigh he settled back onto his pillows, forcing himself to be content with the knowledge that his friends were alive. “How long have we been here?” he finally asked.
“Three days,” answered Aberforth. “We were starting to worry you weren’t going to wake up.”
Albus did not answer: in many ways, he wished he hadn’t. He had awakened to a life that was drastically different: a life without his wife of only a few short weeks. His eyes teared up again as he thought about the future they would not be able to share together. Not wishing to look at his brother and cousin, Albus let his stinging eyes wander around the room until they fell on the nightstand, where the Pensieve stood as a sad reminder of the day he had given it to Cathryn.
“How did you find the Pensieve?” he asked, puzzled at its strange presence on his side table.
“We didn’t,” replied Aberforth with a shrug. “Your bird showed up with it.”
Albus glanced at him sharply. “It’s not my bird,” he said, surprised to hear his brother suggest such an idea, though he was starting to have his own thoughts about the bird.
Aberforth snorted, his usual form of expressing doubt. “Of course it is: that bird was at your wedding, it led the Healers right to you, and it hasn’t left your side since it showed up here with that bowl. Apparently it thought you’d need it.”
As if it had understood, the phoenix let out a soft chirp from the window. Albus turned and looked at it again, frowning. Was it possible? Was the bird going to stay with him? What possible reason could a phoenix have for coming to him?
“Come here,” he said softly, and the red bird flew over, landing gently on the bed next to him. Albus reached out to touch its head again. “Is he right? Are you here to stay this time?”
The bird let out a single beautiful chirp. Albus was shocked to find that a single musical note could contain layer upon layer of communication. The phoenix was telling him something, and though he didn’t understand it all, he was aware of one distinct impression.
“Fawkes,” he breathed in amazement.
“Pardon?” asked Aldred, leaning in as if he hadn’t heard.
“His name is Fawkes,” said Albus, his eyes full of wonder. The bird answered him, and he felt its love and reassurance wash over him. So it was true: the phoenix was giving itself to him.
“How remarkable,” said Aldred, as Aberforth narrowed his eyes.
“Damn peculiar, if you ask me,” he grumped.
Albus did not reply. He continued to absently rub Fawkes’ head, his mind drifting to thoughts of the past. He was weary, both in body and soul, and closed his eyes as he remembered Cathryn. He did not notice when Aldred and Aberforth left him, quietly shutting the door behind them.
After a while Fawkes chirped softly. Opening his eyes, Albus saw the bird fly over to the bedside table. It landed near the Pensieve, his final gift to Cathryn. Next to the silver basin was the watch she had given him in return. Raising his wand, he Summoned them both to the bed.
Picking up the watch first, Albus was dismayed to see that it had stopped moving. He felt a lump in his throat; that her last gift to him had been destroyed only added to the heartbreak. Turning the timepiece over, Albus was suddenly struck by the final line of the inscription:
But for those who love, time is eternity.
It was as if she had known, and left him words of comfort. The watch had stopped, but time continued, and love would never fade. Setting down the watch, Albus took his wand and placed the tip at his forehead. Slowly he drew a shining silver stream from his mind, and placed the memory into the Pensieve that lay in his lap. He prodded the silvery substance with his wand and watched as it swirled around, coalescing into a treasured moment from the past.
The face of a beautiful woman appeared. Her grey eyes were shining, and her cheeks were flushed. Her chocolate brown hair was curled and braided. She was smiling, laughing, and dancing as the light from a hundred magical stars illuminated her glowing blue-grey wedding robes.
Albus stared into the Pensieve, and his tears mingled sadly with the memory of a love lost.
* * *
A/N: Many thanks to mugglemathdork for continuing to put up with me and my story! And a second thank you to Gryffinpuff for helping me settle a tricky plot point.
The story of Cathryn and Albus will conclude in the forthcoming Epilogue.
“And that is the story of this portrait,” concluded Dumbledore. He looked once more at the sleeping witch beside him and sighed. “I arrived back at Hogwarts and found the painting in my office, a gift from the staff. Not long after, I placed it in here.”
Harry heard Ginny sniff and saw her wipe her eyes. At some point during the story they had taken each other’s hands. He gave her a small smile before turning back to the portrait.
“But sir,” he asked somewhat hesitantly, “why is she still sleeping?”
The portrait of the headmaster did not answer; his face was sadder than Harry had ever seen him before as he gazed lovingly at his silent wife.
“She is still sleeping,” said a soft voice behind them, “because she is not truly dead.”
Harry turned around, and Ginny gasped: floating behind them in the Room of Requirement was one of the castle ghosts.
The Grey Lady.
“Oh!” Ginny whispered, sniffling again as tears began to run down her face. Harry turned back to the portrait, stunned: for all these years, the headmaster’s wife had been a part of the castle, and yet few people knew who the Grey Lady truly was. The tragedy seemed so much greater, that they had spent so many years together, but only in spirit.
The Grey Lady drifted closer to the portrait, and sat down on a nearby trunk. She smiled at Dumbledore, standing next to her younger self. “Hello, Albus,” she said gently.
“Hello, Cathryn,” he replied, his voice revealing a deep sorrow.
“You are finally awake, I see,” she continued conversationally. Harry imagined her eyes were twinkling. “You always did like to sleep late on occasion.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Only when I woke up next to you,” he said, and the love he felt for his wife was palpable. Harry was almost embarrassed to be intruding on such an intimate moment, and glancing at Ginny he knew that she felt the same.
“Sir, I’m so sorry, we’ll -” he started to say, but Dumbledore interrupted him.
“No, it’s quite all right, Harry. Please stay.” He continued to gaze at Cathryn, and an awkward silence fell over the room.
Harry desperately wanted to ask Cathryn what had happened, why she had not moved on after her death, but had chosen instead to remain behind in Ravenclaw Tower. Yet he felt such a question might be a dreadful invasion of a very private matter. So he asked another question instead.
“Sir, what happened with the war, and with Grindelwald?”
Dumbledore shook himself as if out of a deep reverie. “The Muggle war continued to deteriorate, and the wizarding world was plunged into its own conflict. I continued to teach at Hogwarts, but joined the fight against Grindelwald’s prejudiced ideas. He was defeated several years later.”
“You are too modest, Albus,” Cathryn chided him lightly, then turned to Harry and Ginny. “He led the battle against Grindelwald’s wizarding army, and single handedly defeated him in a duel, saving Britain from a very Dark Wizard. He then turned down yet another offer to become Minister for Magic. Soon after he became Hogwart’s headmaster instead.” She looked with pride at her husband, who smiled at her sadly.
“Hogwarts is where my heart lies, not with the Ministry,” replied Dumbledore.
“And it was where my heart lived as well,” she replied softly.
Once again Harry had that uncomfortable feeling of intruding on a private moment. To his surprise, Ginny spoke into the silence.
“Is - is that why you stayed behind?” she asked quietly. Harry wasn’t sure what she meant, but Cathryn seemed to understand, and she smiled at Ginny.
“Of course,” she replied. “I wasn’t afraid to die, I just wasn’t ready to leave this world. I wished to spend more time with those I loved, and so I came back to Hogwarts. I’ve spent many happy years here with Albus, and my daughter.”
“Your daughter? Jane?” asked Ginny.
“Yes, she taught Divination here for several years,” answered Cathryn. “She took up the post not long after my death. She died during the first war with Voldemort, just before the prophecy that predicted your birth, Harry.”
Harry glanced up in surprise at his name; he also noticed that she was not afraid to use Voldemort’s name. She laughed as she continued. “Yes, I know about you and the prophecy, Harry. I have been watching over you for quite a while now. Albus is quite fond of you, you know.”
Harry looked at the headmaster’s portrait, his throat tight. He remembered something Dumbledore had told him during his fifth year. The headmaster had gone to the Hog’s Head to interview a new Divination teacher just before Harry was born. Dumbledore had told Harry he wasn’t inclined to continue teaching Divination at Hogwarts, but that he felt obligated to interview the granddaughter of a famous seer. He had met Sybill Trelawney there, and it was during that meeting that she made the crucial prophecy which had ruled Harry’s life since.
“That’s why you didn’t want to keep teaching Divination,” he said softly to the portrait. “You hired Trelawney after Jane died, when she made the prophecy.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I am glad I did, because that is how I learned about you.” Harry couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if Jane hadn’t been killed in the war, or if Dumbledore hadn’t gone to the Hog’s Head to interview a new professor that night: would Trelawney have still made the prophecy? Would Dumbledore have learned about it some other way? How different would Harry’s life have been?
“Can you move on now?” whispered Ginny, voicing one of the other unsaid questions in the back of Harry’s mind. The devastated expression on Dumbledore’s face told him the answer, just as Nearly Headless Nick had told him a year ago: it was too late for Cathryn to move on. She had chosen her pale imitation of life, and like Nick was fated to live out a spectral existence in the castle. Only now she was parted from her husband in a far more final way.
“The castle ghosts say otherwise, but I believe in love,” she answered, and her face was lit with hope. “We will be together again, Albus,” she said softly.
Harry saw a tear make its way down Dumbledore’s face. Ginny was crying again, and Harry felt his own eyes sting as he finally understood the heartbreaking reality: these two people, so much in love, had been separated in life, and were still parted in death.
“‘Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice,’” said Dumbledore, his voice barely a whisper as he recited the inscription from the golden watch.
“‘But for those who love, time is eternity,’” finished Cathryn, smiling sadly. She floated in front of the portrait and kneeled. She held up a ghostly hand, and the man in the portrait did the same. Their hands met, touching but not touching, as they silently mourned their lives and their love.
Slowly a beautiful, mournful song began to fill the cavernous room: it was a melody that spoke of love and loss, sorrow and sadness. Fawkes the phoenix appeared in a burst of red flame, and perched on top of the portrait.
“Hello Fawkes,” said Cathryn, her voice barely audible as she held back her ghostly tears. Fawkes opened his beak and sung a single, piercing note. It broke Harry’s heart to hear it, and Ginny turned her head onto his shoulder, sobbing.
Fawkes began a second song, full of hope and faith. As he sang, a single tear fell from his golden eyes and passed through Cathryn’s ghostly form. A second tear landed on the great silver frame and ran down the portrait. Fawkes continued to sing, his song rising with an ecstatic crescendo that burst open with an explosion of golden fire, drenching the room in a blinding light.
Harry closed his eyes against the sudden brightness. When he opened them, Fawkes was gone, and the Grey Lady had disappeared. He nudged Ginny, and they looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. A sprig of hope began to bloom in Harry’s heart.
“Harry,” Ginny whispered softly, pointing at the portrait with one hand as the other went to her mouth. “Look at the painting.”
As Harry watched, the woman in the portrait slowly opened her grey eyes. She blinked several times, and looked around with a puzzled expression on her pale face. Dumbledore was staring at her in stunned recognition. Finally, she met his gaze, and a beautiful smile brightened her face. The headmaster took her in his arms, and held her as they both cried tears of joy.
Harry felt tears streaming down his own face as well. He had never seen anything so pure and beautiful as the scene he had just witnessed. He knew he had experienced something very special, and very magical: it was surely the power of love which Dumbledore had often spoken of. Not wishing to disturb the reunited couple any longer, he quietly helped Ginny to her feet. They left the Room of Requirement together, hand-in-hand, their hearts full.
In the portrait, the blissful couple embraced once more. “I do love you,” Albus whispered softly.
“I know,” Cathryn whispered back, tickling his ear with her breath. “And I love you.”
They kissed passionately, and somewhere far away a phoenix sang joyfully for a love lost and now found.
* * *
A/N: And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the story, with all its moments of sorrow and joy. Many thanks again to mugglemathdork (Ritta!) for all of her wonderful hard work. Thank you to Dawn and Joanna for helping me with my story banner. Thank you to everyone who has read this tale and left a review, I really appreciate all of your wonderful comments!
And one more final thank you to J.K.Rowling for not only allowing us to meet and mourn the character of Albus Dumbledore, but for the enigmatic Grey Lady as well. Now you know her story.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.