Chapter Thirty-Six
Scorched Souls.
Harry was faring considerably better than Maeve, whose face had become a mask of pain. As she leant towards Remus she felt her body consumed by an ancient magic that leached out from the walls that surrounded her. She barely registered the hard hands that drew her away from her support. Something had gone wrong with the ancient power. She had somehow corrupted it and it was now working against her. Harry could feel some of her pain; she could see that through her unfocused vision. He was holding on to the table in the corner and gasping the same stale, surreal air she was.
Severus clasped her face in one of his hands, raising her chin away from the choker that was doing so much damage. At this juncture nothing else mattered to him but Maeve and the rest of the world faded into insignificance, diminished by her struggle. The ground shook again, almost knocking Remus from his feet and causing Roderick to sway gently. Severus reached towards the necklace but Maeve shook her head as best she could, the movement searing through her nerve endings and making her cry in pain.
“I must,” Severus said quietly. “If I don’t it will kill you.”
“And if you do it will kill you,” Remus said, moving towards the two of them.
Severus turned to him with a piteous glare. “Lupin, when I want your opinion I will ask for it. I know what this thing is, I know what it can do.”
Remus looked at Severus with antipathy as he finally realised that Severus had always been privy to more information than him. Remus thought he knew her intimately but there were things he would never really know.
“What is it?” Harry asked, focusing on the glinting metal around her neck. He winced his way through another spasm of pain.
“It’s the power behind the prophecy,” Roderick said, from his vantage point on the sidelines of the crisis. He watched the anguish Severus felt at her suffering and wondered what that felt like, to care that much about another person that you would take their death away from them and wear it yourself.
“It is far more than that, and it has to come off,” Severus said resolutely, steadying Maeve with his free hand.
“No!” she called, grasping his hand weakly. “Without it we cannot defeat Voldemort.” She swallowed air greedily. “Without it we are powerless.”
“It will kill you, Severus,” Remus repeated, his voice hard-edged with anxiety.
“Although please don’t let that stop you,” Roderick insisted, grimacing as another swathe of magic cut through the ground beneath them.
“Please?” There were tears in Maeve’s eyes now as she fought both the unknown magic and the love that was trying to save her sanity. “I am nothing compared to what this magic can do. You have to let it run its course.”
The large window was suddenly rent from its fixings as the wall holding it shifted. Glass was blasted to the floor in ferocious shards and the necklace sensed the opening in the equilibrium of the house. It ripped into Maeve’s throat to ward off the prospect of escape from her obligation and she fell to the floor, wrenched away from the safety of Severus’ grasp by the power that possessed her. Harry began to move towards her, compelled by the need to reach out to the torment that he too was feeling. Something exploded from the fireplace in a mixture of soot and feathers. Roderick quickly pulled a walking stick from the cloak rack he had been leaning on and poked at the body of the dead raven.
“You know,” he murmured, “as portents go that has to be one of the most effective I’ve ever seen… if you believe in that twaddle, of course.”
Severus was now bending over Maeve’s creased body as she clung to the walnut sideboard. Grasping her shoulders he tried to pull her up but she was like a dead weight in his hands.
“There’s something wrong,” she breathed. “It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t hurt so much. We should have been protected.”
“Can’t we just get out,” Harry gasped. “We can’t do Voldemort any damage like this, I can barely breathe.”
“Maeve can’t leave,” Remus said, hovering above Severus with worry cutting across his face. “She tried.”
“I’m taking this thing off,” Severus said, thrusting his hand to her throat and grasping the precious metal in his long, insistent fingers. Remus was aghast as he waited for Severus to fall to the floor along but it never happened.
The scream that tore through the air deafened them all as Maeve fought with the ecstasy of pain that spread from her throat to every filament of her body. For a few moments it seemed as if they were moulded together as Severus found he couldn’t remove the necklace or release his grip on it. His fingers seemed to melt into her skin as she caught the scream and stoppered the noise. Breath rushed back into her lungs; clean, sweet breath that washed away the all-consuming magic. Harry stood up, his body free from the clamp of pain, and watched as Remus bent to remove Severus’s reddened hand from her raw throat. As Remus’s reached down, Severus managed to wrench himself free of the chain that bound him to her and his arm impacted against Remus’ face, sending the unsuspecting man sprawling to the floor.
Harry immediately rushed to Remus’ aid while Roderick stood watching them with a gloomy look on his face. Walking over to Maeve he quickly veered past Severus and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet.
“When you have all finished with the theatrics,” he said “I rather think there is the small matter of getting out of the house alive.”
“But what about Voldemort?” Harry asked. “We need to find him. Why did the pain stop… it’s like it never happened?”
“Voldemort’s gone,” Roderick replied.
“What do you mean, gone?” Remus asked, struggling to his feet as the effects of the unexpected blow began to wear off. He knew Severus probably hadn’t meant to hit him but it hurt just the same.
Roderick’s eyes became wide with exasperation. “Because the bloody house has stopped groaning, she’s stopped screaming and, most importantly, I’ve just seen him step out of the front doors with that idiot, Malfoy. Now that half of that wall has fallen there is a rather splendid view of the entrance.”
“What are we waiting for then?” Harry said, glancing at the assembled company. “We need to go.”
“Yes.” Maeve rubbed at her throat as if she could still feel Severus’ hand there. Her vocal chords savaged each other as she recovered her true voice again “Remus, take Harry out through that window, quickly.”
“But what about you?” he replied. “We should all go together.”
“I need to make sure that vapour is secured. We can’t just leave it here.” She looked to Severus for support and he gave it to her, nodding his acceptance that he would be the one accompanying her in her self-imposed task.
Roderick tapped her shoulder and pointed towards the window, where the lintel was still hanging on above the empty space. “I don’t think anyone is going out that way. It’s far too unstable and magic could destabilise it further. You want to go out the front way. It’s not as if there will be any Death Eaters hanging around now, is it?”
“Rubbish,” Remus said. “A quick solidifying charm could have that sorted.” He raised his wand and pointed it carefully.
“Sometimes,” Roderick began, watching the charm zip through the air to the window, “I really wish people would listen to me.”
With a moan the lintel waggled dangerously, like a rotten tooth that threatens to fall from its socket. The bricks threw off the charm and began to crumble away from the remainder of the wall.
“Let’s all just back away through the door, shall we?” Roderick moved to clear the way for a quick exit, pulling Maeve with him and forcing Severus to follow. “You two can stay if you want but that is about to come down. I did warn you.”
With a dull rumble that seemed to come from the depths of the earth, the house shuddered. Masonry began to fall with a rapid snowball effect. Large chunks of plaster fell and gouged out further cracks until the whole wall was a trembling mirage. Remus finally realised that they were in danger and took hold of Harry, chasing the others out into the safer area beyond the crumbling room. As he closed the door he heard the cacophonous riot as the room buried itself in a tomb of dust and bricks.
“The house is on fire,” Severus said with such casualness that he might have been inviting them to tea on the patio or to come and enjoy a stroll in the gardens.
Maeve looked towards the entrance hall and saw the smouldering flames that had begun to lick at the bottom of the staircase. They stood frozen for a few moments in morbid fascination as the fire began to dance across the floor in several directions at once. Remus and Maeve went for their wands at the same time but Roderick and Severus just continued to stare, they well knew that Voldemort wouldn’t have cast any old fire spell at the house.
“Put them away,” Roderick instructed, “and find the nearest exit. That’s Unquenchable Fire. I’m rather afraid, Maeve, that you are about to lose your house.”
“Thank you, Roderick, I had grasped that idea.” She glanced back at the way they had come, but the insistent thunder of the walls gave her the hint that it might not be such a good choice. They couldn’t move forward because the orange flecks had now formed a heated wall that was happily consuming the parquet flooring. “We’ll have to go down.”
“Are you mad?” Harry asked, the thought of going back into those cellars held no appeal, especially with a burning house over his head. “We’ll get buried alive.”
“Come on,” she said, ignoring Harry’s protests. “The cellars run under the house, we can get out by moving under the fire rather than through it.”
“She’s making sense,” Roderick said, sniffing distastefully as the first waves of acrid smoke began to hit his nostrils.
“And what about the vapour?” Severus asked, his mind being pulled in the pressing direction of getting Maeve out whilst at the same time being urged towards securing the bottled death.
“It’s in the kitchen,” she said.
“I think not,” Roderick said serenely. “ I think it’s about to be engulfed in flames.”
Everyone’s gaze followed his as he looked towards the rising inferno and sure enough there was the box of bottles with just one loose one rolling on the floor by the door. Maeve made a movement towards it but Severus held her back, leaving the way clear for Roderick to step into the breach. As he moved ahead of them he found Remus by his side
“What are you going to do?” Severus asked Roderick coldly, trying to look unconcerned. It would be nice to defeat his rival but he hadn’t quite expected that defeat to come in such a fatal form. “It would be madness to go into that.”
“Take her,” Roderick said, revealing a streak of hitherto concealed martyrdom. “If I succeed, all well and good. If I fail at least I made an attempt, however foolhardy that might be. Just promise me, Snape, that you will get her out alive.”
“I will,” Severus said with an assenting flick of his head.
“This is ridiculous,” Remus said quietly. “If anyone should be going in there it’s me. I have less to lose than any of you and I’ve faced Unquenchable Fire before and survived.”
“Ah, yes. The poor werewolf, with nothing in the world to live for,” Roderick snapped, fixing Remus with a hard look. “We all know you do not lack in bravery, but you can sometimes be exceedingly stupid. You have the one thing that many do not have, the unconditional love of others. You have a woman there who is more your sister than anyone with a direct blood connection to you, and that boy,” he waved his wand at Harry, “is left with only you as a father figure after the loss of so many others. Would you deny him that? The bravest thing you can do now is get out of here alive for the sake of him and Maeve.”
Remus glanced at Harry who looked at him with his hurt eyes and he knew Roderick was speaking the truth. Strange, the way the man could see into your deepest thoughts and wishes. Remus couldn’t help feeling he knew about his feelings for Maeve, his stupid, irresponsible, ridiculous feelings for Maeve that had clouded his judgement and left him helpless. He stretched out his hand to Roderick who shook it firmly in a scene of gentlemanly manners that was entirely at odds with their surroundings.
“You can’t do this, Roderick,” Maeve beseeched him. “Just come with us… please.”
“You and I both know, sweetheart, that this has to be attempted and you four good people are more worthy of survival than I… so off you pop like a good girl and maybe I’ll see you around.” He turned away from her and began to battle his way forward, his wand useless at his side. A Flame Freezing Charm would have no effect on Unquenchable Fire; only his wits and good luck stood between him and the hungry flames that crept towards them.
Severus briskly forced her to turn away because the heat was getting steadily more intense. The hot ash from the staircase was starting to drift towards them on currents of parched air and the first blistering fingers of heat were trying to penetrate their lungs. Harry began to cough and this was the signal that finally made them move through the increasingly foggy hallway towards the optimistic sanctuary of the cellars. As the little-used door was hauled open yet again Harry was sent down first, followed by Remus and Maeve, who paused on the top stair and looked back down the corridor to see Roderick slowly disappear into the confusion of fire and smoke. Severus gently eased her through the doorway and banged it firmly behind them. With all their wands lit to add extra light they waited for Maeve to lead the way. She walked past them with her head high, her regret at seeing Roderick do something so sacrificial worn gravely on her face.
No one spoke as they sped through the corridors. The house creaked and moaned as it experienced its own death throes and the noise was almost unbearable for Maeve. She had given the building away to the man whose body she had just stepped carelessly over but she had not expected it to end like this, not with such utter destruction.
Heat was supposed to rise, but the intensity of the fire that burned above them could be felt below as well as above, causing Maeve to worry that the fire was spreading faster than they could run. Harry jogged at her heels, trusting that she had made the right choice, but she had had no other choice to make. As she reached the door that would lead them up through the East wing she wondered if the house would forgive her for being the architect of its destruction and allow them to escape.
With foreboding she reached out for the handle and tugged it roughly. Nothing happened. She rattled it harder and quickly waved her wand at it.
“Alohomora!”
The lock turned and, relieved, she went again to turn the handle but still the door wouldn’t budge. Remus pushed her out of the way and tried to move it himself but the door was being held fast with something other than a lock.
“I think you’ll find it’s a security measure used by the Dark Lord,” Severus said as he rapped his wand in the air with a mutter that none of them really heard. The door flew outwards into a smoke-infested corridor.
This time it was Remus who went first, stepping into the unknown and covering his mouth as he did so. There was no sign of the fire, just these huge clouds of charcoal smoke that made getting their bearings difficult. Maeve joined him and immediately pointed towards a large set of double doors at the end of the corridor.
“We have to go through there,” she said, tears pricking at her eyes because of the dry atmosphere. The four of them ran towards the doors with Severus asking where they were going.
“It’s the ballroom,” she panted. “There are huge windows. We can break one open and get out that way.”
The first flames had found their way to the other end of the corridor and were licking eagerly at the walls, which made their task even more urgent. The ballroom doors opened easily and the room itself was an oasis of tranquillity in so much chaos. Its walls were covered with heavy, silk-shot curtains that hung elegantly from silver poles. Maeve immediately ran for the nearest one and wrenched it back, expecting to find the huge windows. Her mouth dropped open in horror when she saw that it had been bricked up. She ran from curtain to curtain, ripping them back in the hope that this was some bizarre nightmare. But it wasn’t. Voldemort’s security measures had extended this far, bricking up the largest, and therefore the most vulnerable, windows in the house.
Remus used his wand and tried blasting at them but all he succeeded in doing was shattering the glass, the bricks remained intact. Severus gave a wry smile of defeat as Remus asked why Voldemort hadn’t just used unbreakable glass.
“He probably wanted to give the younger Death Eaters something to occupy themselves with for an hour or two… bricking up windows would certainly have kept them out of harm’s way.”
Maeve turned her stricken face to the others, wanting one of them to tell her that there was another plan, another escape route. But her pleading face was met with stunned silence.
“There has to be another way out of this room,” Remus said, more to offer hope than in any real expectation of finding a route out of there. His eyes searched the walls and ceiling for a means of escape but there was none.
“There isn’t,” she said bleakly. “Not unless you count the way we have just come.”
They all looked back at the open doorway and saw the fire savagely eating away at the walls beyond the ballroom.
“I think I’ve just led you to your deaths,” she said, still looking frantically round for another option, for another chink of hope in this barren situation.
“No!” Harry shouted. “Think, Maeve, are there any secret doors to another room?”
Severus snorted. “Secret doors are the stuff of silly Muggle stories, boy.”
“There are no secret doors at Abbeylara,” Maeve said gently to Harry. If they were going to die they might as well be civil about it. “There never was anything like…”
She stopped as her gaze moved to the wall closest to the door.
“What is it?” Severus asked. “What have you seen?”
“There used to be a serving hatch there, for drinks and things, in the days when this room was actually used as a ballroom.” She waked across to the wall, covering her mouth with her sleeves because of the increasing smoke. Maeve tapped at the wall, searching for the change of sound that would indicate a different surface. Once she had located the hollow tone she raised her wand and with a swift charm reduced the wallpaper to a pile of shreds on the floor. With a shout of triumph she watched Remus reach forward and yank at the small door, which gave easily at his firm touch. As light filtered through from the room on the opposite side of the door they were all startled by the heavy crashing sound of one of the ballroom doors falling off its hinges. It caused a huge draft of wind that blew smoke into their lungs with overpowering venom.
The hatch wasn’t huge but it was large enough for them to clamber through it. Had the situation not been so desperate she might have enjoyed seeing Severus puff his way through the minor ordeal. The room they now found themselves in was a small boudoir and as Maeve pulled back the delicate curtains here she was relieved to find the windows clear and glassy. Both Remus and Harry barraged them with strong battering charms but instead of having the same effect on the ballroom windows these just came back at them, leaving the windows untouched.
“No!” Maeve howled, dropping back against the piano that occupied the centre of the room in sudden and complete exhaustion at the futility of what they were trying to do. “The house won’t let me go. It knows it’s dying and it wants me to die with it. You go…all of you…just go. You will be able to get out.” She sank to the floor at its feet.
“We’re not leaving!” Harry cried, joining her on the ground, trying to give her some comfort. It was the turn of the boudoir doors to come crashing to the ground as the fire continued on its inexorable course, eager for new fuel to prolong its destructive life.
“Take him, Remus,” she said, trying to fling Harry away from her. “Save him if no one else.” Harry fought against her protests but she held him at arms length, trying to physically force him away from her.
Remus was now desperately torn. He could see Maeve was not leaving and Severus would not abandon her, but Harry… could Harry be saved. Could Remus possibly try and walk away from her now, and leave her in this appalling nightmare. He knew he could not; he would stay and die with her before he left her to this twist of fate.
Harry was looking at her throat with interest as she tried to mentally plead with Remus to do as she asked. The stone in the centre was glowing orange to match the fire; it looked so fierce and powerful, as if… as it were more than just affected by Voldemort. Harry glanced around him and wondered where the stone had come from originally and why it was burning at her throat now. He had seen something, somewhere that would explain it but he wasn’t sure where. Harry suddenly knew with absolute certainty what he had to do. Reaching across quickly, before she could stop him, he grabbed at the necklace, crying out in pain as he tore it from her. It came away, leaving a livid line of blood on either side of her neck and, as it finally left her flesh, every window in the room shattered with such intensity that the glass turned into millions of tiny fragments of sand before it had even left its frame.
Maeve fell to the floor in an unconscious heap at the loss of the necklace and Severus moved to sweep her up in exhausted arms, carrying her limp form towards the open windows, with Remus pushing Harry in his wake. As they stepped across the ruined wooden frames onto the worn stones of the terrace the joy of the clean air and the cool light of the blue sky welcomed them painfully back into the land of the living. They tried to put as much distance between themselves and the blazing house as they could. As Remus and Harry led the way they could all feel the furious heat flaring out into the spring day.
Their progress towards the fringe of the forest was rapid as they sprang across the grass and what had once been a dark, threatening presence now offered them some sanctuary from the deviant behaviour of the house. The keening sound of the twisting, burning framework roused Maeve from her pale unconsciousness. Her eyes opened to the sweeping canopy of verdant leaves that sang above her in the soft breeze and she searched for Severus’ face. Finding it, she reached up and skimmed his cheek with hands blackened by soot. The mark she left was indistinct on his smoky skin but he felt it and was grateful that somehow they had escaped the inferno.
Harry still clutched the golden chain in his hand. The centrepiece had now stopped glowing and was quietly reflecting the greenery of their surroundings. He looked into the pendant and the moonstone seemed to swirl for a moment, its true nature clouded beneath centuries of magic. He was afraid to hand it back to her, afraid of the consequences, and so he slipped it into his pocket to return at a later date.
The blaze had now made its way to the upper floors and the fire had broken the unbreakable windows, magic meeting magic with such ferocity that one had to give. The sound of cracking glass coupled with the bitter tang of burning wood to create a scene of utter destruction. Maeve found the strength to stagger to her feet and say goodbye to the crumbling ruin of her home. Remus tried to offer her comfort but she wasn’t listening. She moved away from them and Severus had the sense to let her go. She needed to say her last goodbye.
But Maeve wasn’t really thinking about farewells, well, not for the house anyway. She knew that Roderick was dying with the house or he would have emerged by now so she was composing her own words of leaving to him I her head. She watched the chimneys totter over, falling to the ground in a crush of grey and wondered if he had made it as far as the vapour. The roof itself looked on the point of giving and within minutes of the chimney going, the roof broke its back in a crash of black slate that made the rest of the unsteady house rock. Amongst all the other rents and moans she would have been forgiven for missing the smaller explosion from a downstairs window but her sharp eyes were instantly attracted to the package that sailed neatly from the shattering glass. Breaking into a run she took the others by surprise as she headed back towards the burning building. Her swiftness brought her to the edge of hell within moments, Severus’ cries hunting her down and entreating her to come back all the way. She was calling Roderick’s name by now; sending admonitions towards were she believed him to be. Only the intense heat prevented her from approaching the gaping hole were the window had been as she railed against the forces that had conspired to rob her of answers to Roderick’s behaviour.
“I just wanted to know?” she asked, knowing there would be no answers. “I just wanted to know why you never harmed me, why you never betrayed me… when you betrayed everyone else?” Warm tears of frustration bled down her face, evaporating in the intense heat. “I liked you, Roderick Rampton, I liked you so much. I don’t want to say goodbye like this. I don’t want this to be the end”
With one last groan the house gave up the last of its treasures as a dark object projected from the window just as the box of clattering bottles had done. It whistled towards her, the air creating music through the object’s strained strings. Despite her distressed state she still managed to raise two arms to catch the scorched instrument that seemed to know exactly where it was going. The weight of the wood caused her to stagger but she kept her footing and clutched at her harp despite the heat it was giving off. Severus reached her just as she began wiping it with her sleeve, using her tears as a cleanser. The beautiful wood was unmarked beneath the ash of the fire, unmarked apart from one tiny scratch that ran the length of the instrument’s body. As she touched it she felt a shiver run through her fingers and a dusty spider sprang out from between the strings, dropping to the ground and scurrying off. Above her the ravens had realised there was little else to foretell and were now dissipating, making for fresher fields.
Severus had caught up with her and all she could hear was the blur of his raised voice. Whatever he was actually saying flew straight over her head as she tried to deal with the sadness she felt for the death of her friend. She turned back to him, the harp heavy in her hand and let his easy warmth protect her from the ferocity of what was going on behind her. Just as Severus was about to try and discuss permanently getting away from Abbeylara, five figures appeared from nowhere in the middle of the West lawn. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes as the figures walked towards them; Professor Dumbledore, Kinglsey Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks and Charlie Weasley made a formidable prospect but Severus couldn’t help thinking, bitterly, that they were about an hour too late.
Dumbledore immediately took charge and sent Tonks and Charlie to see that Harry and Remus were in one piece. He approached Maeve, who stepped away from Severus and stared at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“Roderick Rampton is in the house,” she said. “He’s dead or dying. You must be able to do something.”
“And Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked, not daring to hope that it could have been that easy.
“Flown,” Severus said quickly. “Along with the Death Eaters. They went when they realised the magic was too dangerous for them.”
“Forget about Voldemort,” she cried, interrupting their conversation. “There is still a chance for Roderick!”
Dumbledore looked at the burning house for a few moments, watching the walls slowly collapse in on themselves as the accelerated fire swooped to finish its job. He shook his head sadly and his steely eyes told her there was no chance now.
“The only thing to be done is to get the four of you back to Grimmauld Place. We need to try and understand what happened here and how we can use it to our advantage.” He turned to Kinglsey and requested that a return Portkey be made for them before walking across to Harry and Remus, who was busy trying to stop Tonks mopping at his face with a damp tissue.
Severus wrapped his arms around Maeve and her harp, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t admit openly to her that he was sorry to see the huge house burn. In many ways he wished the same fortune would befall his own stately pile. He wondered what she would do with the property. With Niall’s body slowly turning to ash in the cellars the land would revert back to her now, unless there was a will and he highly doubted that Niall was the sort of man to have left a will.
“I suppose,” she began softly, “that this means I am now completely free.” She reached up to touch her neck, forgetting for a moment that the necklace had been ripped away from her. Her fingers felt the sticky lines of drying blood and she wondered if she would ever know the true power that that necklace had held. Whatever it had been, it was gone now, made molten in the fire that was Abbeylara. Only the east wing remained standing now, and that had been her wing. With one final salute the broken walls wavered before falling to join its brothers in the rubble and the smouldering ash. How quickly it had been done. In the space of twenty minutes her former home had gone from splendour to ruins. She was revolted at how satisfied that made her.
“I would agree with that,” he said. “I would say you were eminently free, Maeve.”
“But Roderick has paid a heavy price for my freedom,” she sighed.
“Not just your freedom,” Severus pointed out as Mad-Eye Moody tenderly lifted the box of vapour from its place on the dusty grass. “He did it for others, too.” There was a touch of grudging admiration to Severus’ words and Maeve was glad to hear them. It had been hard for her to understand her mixed feelings for Roderick because the man himself had been such a complete enigma. Maeve knew though, that for all his bravado and sarcasm, there had been something fundamentally good about the man.
They gathered in the gentle midday sunlight, four ragged figures surrounded by five and Maeve felt the inequality. It should have been five smoke-damaged people there to balance out the newcomers. Tonks was looking at the smouldering ruins with admiration on her face at what it had once been but for once she kept her mouth closed and didn’t say anything to upset Maeve. The younger witch realised that Maeve probably didn’t want to hear about how amazing it must have looked when it wasn’t a burnt out heap.
With unsteady fingers the survivors reached out to touch the old scarf that Kingsley held out. Maeve remained ensnared in Severus’ arms as she felt the tug in her stomach, closing her eyes to the light that flashed as they were transported from the brittle air of Ireland to the stale air of Grimmauld Place.
The house was empty when they arrived; only the steady ticking of various clocks disturbed the silence. The group quickly dispersed, mumbled reasons preceding hasty departures for Tonks, Kingsley, Charlie and Mad-Eye Moody. Dumbledore quickly explained that there was other business they needed to attend to. The rest of the Order were now busily trying to find out if Voldemort or any of his followers had been sighted and he had to go and coordinate efforts at the Ministry. Maeve and Harry stood looking a little lost as Dumbledore beckoned Severus and Remus to him. They stood with heads together for a few minutes as Dumbledore issued his instructions for the security of the two people who had so recently been joined in something that no one could yet explain. With one final inclination of his grey head to them he silently Apparated from the hallway, leaving Remus to take control.
“I think we all need to wash and change before we do anything else,” he said, looking down ruefully on his own tattered clothes and wondering if he actually owned anything else that wasn’t even worse than what he was wearing.
“I would agree,” Maeve said. “If we had anything to change into.”
Remus gave her a benign smile. “Really, Maeve, you should know Dumbledore better than that. Charlie Weasley was instructed to bring some of your things down when he joined the Order earlier today. It would seem Dumbledore expected us to return alive.”
“Well I’m thankful for his optimism,” she grinned, her white teeth glaring out from sooty lips. Her smile quickly faded as she recalled their loss and she looked from face to face; all grim, all not wishing to speak about their experience.
“Your things will be in the usual room,” Remus said kindly. “I think once we are cleaned up then I shall investigate the possibility of making something to eat. Perhaps you should get Severus to look at those cuts for you.” Remus was trying not to look at the dark, ruby scores on her neck.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said with an indifference she didn’t feel. The cuts were throbbing with magic, yearning for a balm to take away the soreness.
“I think it is,” he insisted, nodding to Severus who immediately moved to her side. “Make sure they are clean, Severus. Who knows what sort of darkness has touched them.”
“Of course I will make sure they are clean,” Severus replied. “Do you think I would allow something to fester in there?”
“Thank you,” Remus said, turning to Harry. Now that the crisis had passed Remus was beginning to see there would be a lot of talking done and they should really make the most of this lull. “Harry, go and change and join us in the kitchen. We all need to recover a little of our self-possession.”
Severus led Maeve to the drawing room where he sat her down on the sofa. She sat there with no words to express her sadness or her confusion at what had happened. He marched across to a large oak cabinet that stood in a darkened corner of the room. She had never really noticed it before, which was surprising as it ran from the floor to the ceiling. Severus pulled a small bunch of keys from his voluminous pockets and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal a large collection of bottles and jars. He removed a small vial whose contents sparkled pearlescent in the sunlight that drifted into the room from the dusty windows. Bringing it across to her he sat by her side and, with a delicate touch that surprised her with its gentleness, began to smooth the thin cream across her cuts. She trembled slightly as the concoction began to seep into her skin, creating a barrier that prevented the unknown magic from penetrating any deeper into her body. Once this was done he led her quietly out of the room, up that stairs and deposited her in her room to recover some of her sensibility. All of this was done without a word, a peaceful silence speaking volumes for them.
When Maeve finally descended the stairs two hours later she felt a little steadier, both in mind and body. Her neck no longer ached and she felt cleansed of the poison of Abbeylara now that she had scrubbed of every grain of dirt from her skin. The other three occupants of the house were already in the kitchen. Remus and Harry were sitting amiably around the table drinking tea, while Severus hovered on their periphery, unwilling to take part in their conversation. As she pushed open the door and walked in Remus immediately jumped up to make her a drink but she demurred and urged him to sit back down. With a gesture to Severus that he should join them she sat opposite Harry and smiled sadly at him.
“I don’t know what happened, Harry,” she said with an air of defeat. “I don’t know why it hurt so much. I don’t think that’s how the prophecy was supposed to work.”
“I couldn’t breathe,” Harry said, not overly eager to talk about the experience but unable to resist. “It was like something was crushing my chest.”
Maeve bobbed her head in acknowledgment of the shared, unpleasant feelings they had endured. Hers had been more than that though; she had felt fury in her head at her wish to leave the house.
“It was the thing around your throat,” Severus advised them in a dark tone. “It came from your father.”
Maeve looked at him with bemusement on her face. “No, Severus, it was my grandmother’s.”
“You thought that because she told you that, however I am telling you now that it came from your father. I had never seen it so closely before, but these past months have given me the opportunity to do a little reading on the subject. I know what that object is and I’m not sure you are going to like it.”
Maeve looked from Remus, who shrugged, and back to Severus, who twisted his mouth in a grimace.
“Why do you always seem to know more about me than I do myself?” she asked, realising she wasn’t too perturbed by this anymore. Rather than feel resentment she knew she should be grateful that someone cared enough to do some research on her behalf.
“I make it my business to know, Maeve, especially now things have changed.”
The reminder of their new conjoined status was one thing that had the power to thrill her; even in the deep pit of melancholy that she now found herself in. Harry set his cup down and looked at Severus carefully.
“What do you mean, now things have changed?” he asked, registering Maeve’s unexpected happy expression.
“Oh,” Maeve looked at him with a smile on her face, which quickly faded when she remembered that Severus was not Harry’s favourite person. She drummed her nails on the edge of the table as she debated how to word the announcement.
“Didn’t you know?” Severus said with a contented sneer at being the one to impart the news. “Professor O’Malley and I are getting married.”
Harry looked to Maeve for confirmation and then to Remus, who also nodded.
“Close your mouth, Potter, you look even more idiotic than usual; , something I didn’t think possible.” Severus said in a mordant tone. He was clearly taking some pleasure from Harry’s awkwardness and Maeve shot him a look of extreme displeasure.
“I didn’t have the chance to tell you…” she began, her voice filled with regret.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, looking intently at the grainy surface of the table. “As long as you are…” ”he looked up” “happy.”
“I am very happy, Harry,” she said confidently. With a small pause she looked from Harry to Severus, who was still preening over his coup in dropping the bombshell, before turning back to Harry with a wicked smile on her face. “Perhaps you would do us the honour of being the best-man?”
Remus spluttered into his tea, sending milky droplets flying into the air. He quickly recovered himself and watched as Severus shot out of his chair in horror at the prospect of Harry being his best anything.
“Impossible!” he roared. “This has not even been discussed.”
“I’m discussing it now, Severus,” Maeve said calmly. “And I think, given your inability to be civil to each other, that this would be the perfect opportunity for you both to lay to rest some old ghosts.”
“I don’t think so,” Harry said, looking at Severus with pure hatred. “He caused most of those ghosts!”
“Now, Harry,” Remus said, wondering why on earth Maeve had chosen that moment to bring this up.
“I think,” Maeve continued, ignoring their protests, “that what we have just experienced should be a lesson to us all not to take each other for granted and I think it’s high time some people” ” here she broke off and looked pointedly at Severus” “started acting more like an adult in some respects.”
He opened his mouth to protest but she waggled a warning finger at him.
“Shut up and let me finish.” She paused long enough to allow him to interrupt her again and when he didn’t she was satisfied that he was listening, albeit reluctantly. “I am sorry, Harry, that someone saw fit to tell you in such an abrupt manner. It was as much a surprise to me when I… when Severus, asked me to marry him. But we are very happy, or at least as happy as one of us ever will be, and are looking forward to sharing our lives.”
Harry looked like he was about to be sick at this flowery speech. He looked to Remus for support but Remus was tilted back in his chair watching Maeve with a distant expression on his face.
“So I think it would be a timely gesture for you both to set aside old animosity and get on, just for once, just for me.” Her face looked haunted by the nightmare of Abbeylara and the loss of Roderick. Suddenly, in the vastness of the kitchen, she looked very small. Her natural hair colour had returned but it looked duller in the dim light and her cheeks were devoid of colour. Harry felt again that overwhelming sense of ease he had felt with her from their very first meeting. He would always hate Severus with a passion borne of too much bad history but he could see how this one small thing would make her happy.
Harry’s chair rang against the stone floor as he pushed it back and went around to her. He had grown over the past few months and now stood almost as tall as she did. The little clock above the cooker chimed the hour and Harry gathered himself.
“If it’s what you want then I will be more than happy to be best man at your wedding.” She began to smile again, banishing the shadows from the room. “But under no circumstances will I make a speech, not ever.”
“Thank you, Harry. You know it means a lot to me.”
“I do, and that’s why I am doing it. For you.” The look he shot Severus was priceless but Severus wasn’t quite finished arguing.
“Do I not get a say in this?” he asked coldly.
“Of course you do, and you’re going to say yes,” she said firmly. “Aren’t you, Severus?” She knew she was perhaps being a little unreasonable in making this demand of Severus, but she had had enough of them sniping at each other and wanted to force them into a situation where they would have to be well-mannered towards each other. If she could just show them, for one day, how much easier it was to be polite then maybe they would keep it up long after the event was over,
Severus saw what Harry had seen on her face and he knew he really had no choice. He reasoned that, when the time came, he could keep as much distance from Harry as possible. He wasn’t fully au fait with the protocols at weddings but surely all the best man did was hand over the rings. If that was all it took to make her happy then he was sure he could manage it.
“Very well,” he said in glacial tones. “If that is what you wish.” He sat back down, defeated. Life, with this woman in it, became more bizarre by the day. One minute he was in the clutches of a fiery death with Voldemort snapping at their heels and the next he was bickering about wedding arrangements; it disturbed Severus no end.
“I’m going up to my room,” Harry said as Maeve reached out and gave him a quick squeeze, muttering thank you in his ear as she did so. “Can some one get me when Dumbledore returns?”
“Of course, Harry,” Remus said. He was more alert now that all discussions of weddings seemed to have been laid aside. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything to eat?”
“No thanks,” Harry felt that eating was the last thing he wanted to do, especially now. “I’ll grab something later.”
Maeve still wasn’t sure about Harry’s state of mind as he trudged from the room, the heavy door banging shut behind him with an ominous toll. She sat back down and tried to remember what they had been talking about before the wedding had interrupted things.
“Oh, yes,” she said, looking to Severus for answers. “What about the necklace, you said you had found out something about it?”
“It’s from your father’s world,” Severus said. “It’s a bond, a surety for a debt that has yet to be repaid.”
“I don’t understand.” Maeve shook her head as Remus stood up and reasserted his position as her brother.
“What are you saying, Severus? That Maeve was the bearer of a debt?” His voice was incredulous.
“No,” Severus said with an irascible click of his tongue. “She is the means by which the debt will be collected. I do not know all of the details so some of this may be supposition but I believe that someone owes a debt to the Tuatha De Danaan. The necklace is an ancient object filled with magic we cannot even begin to aspire to.”
Maeve’s hands fluttered automatically to her throat and she felt a sense of absurd loss when she recalled the piece was no longer there.
“The prophecy was made, the pieces were placed carefully on the board and all the gods had to do was wait. I propose that something went wrong, that the prophecy was not completely fulfilled and yet the magic was released anyway.” Severus looked rather pleased with himself about this. The hours spent in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library had been time well used. “And furthermore, I believe that the debtor in this instance is Voldemort himself.”
Remus was standing beside Maeve now and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you saying that Maeve was created in order to get someone to pay a debt?” The words, once said, had a dreadful feel about them.
“That’s exactly what I am saying. Maeve and the people who joined her in that augury of doom. Harry was one of them... who was the other?”
“Neville,” Maeve said quietly. “Neville was missing.”
It all suddenly made perfect sense. She was the power, the one with the magic of the gods concealed around her throat, Harry was the one who would defeat Voldemort and Neville was the one to protect them while they did it. That was why they were almost killed by the magic at Abbeylara… because Neville had not been there. The old power of the threefold had been the gods’ weapon against their defaulter and she was just a part of it.
“I never knew,” she said despondently. “I had no idea. I knew the necklace was powerful, I knew that only two people could touch it and that when the time was right I would know who they were. But I had no idea…and now it’s gone. Without it how will we defeat Voldemort?”
She looked at Severus again. “I’m just a tool, a weapon in someone’s armoury. My whole existence comes from Voldemort… without him I would never even have been born.” Her voice had a bitter edge to it that came from one horrendous revelation to many. She laughed almost hysterically for a few moments. The irony was not lost on any of them as her hollow mirth petered out. She looked at them both, imagining that they were preparing themselves for another bout of tears. Not this time, she thought with dogged fortitude; this time she was prepared to play the gods at their own game and she would not bow down under the pressure of her reason for being. If they wanted her to collect a debt for them then collect it she would, with or without their trinket.
Before she had the opportunity to impart her new determination to her companions the kitchen door opened and Professor Dumbledore stood in the half-light of the passageway. He watched Maeve’s face carefully for a few moments, unaware that she was already much wiser about the necklace and the prophecy.
“Come with me, Maeve,” he said gently. “There is someone here to see you. Someone who can explain all of this much better than I could hope to.”