Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Debt Remains Unpaid
Maeve had started to believe she was incapable of feeling surprise, but she was about to be rudely reminded that there was always something unexpected around the corner. Dumbledore slowly opened the drawing room door and ushered her into the warmth of the interior with a solemn smile on his lips. She came to an abrupt halt as she saw the lofty figure that stood by the fire. He had told her she couldn’t expect to see him again and yet here he was, an arm flung casually across the dark mantlepiece. He looked rather less radiant than he had the last time she had been in a room with him, though he was still impressively commanding.
“So, my daughter.” Lugh was intently watchful as he tried to establish, via her general demeanour, what she already knew. “I had not expected to be in contact with you again.”
“Clearly not,” she said, too annoyed to be totally taken aback by his presence. Her face grew slightly red as she tried to control herself. “Although I fail to see why you are able to visit me here, in the relative safety of this house, and not when I really need you. Is that another of the gods’ little games they like to play? Let’s see whose child can die in the most spectacular fashion?
“Maeve, you must understand a few things,” he began, looking to Dumbledore for support. Dumbledore, however, was not going to be drawn into this.
“If you need me,” the headmaster said to her quietly, “then I shall be just next door. I will hear if you call.” Lugh shifted awkwardly by the fireplace. He was above feeling resentment, but had he not been, then he would have felt some at the implication that his daughter might need rescuing from her own father.
“I can assure you, Albus, that Maeve will not need you.” His voice was firm and clear, made mellifluous by the need for calm in the face of his daughter’s apparent unbalanced disposition.
“All the same,” Dumbledore said, still focusing his attention on Maeve, “you know where I am.” With a swirl of robes and a small cough of displeasure he left them alone in the quiet sanctuary of the spacious room.
Maeve remained standing by the door, making sure that it was her father, and not she, that did the verbal legwork in this exchange. He looked more jaded than he had back in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. That intense golden aura was gone and in its place sat a heavy cloud that flared weakly against the fire in the grate. He watched her with eyes that, though alert, were dreary with defeat, watching her more closely than she had ever been watched before. He was waiting, but for what she didn’t know.
“How much are you aware of?” he asked, making no move towards her, allowing the distance to give her some room for deliberation.
“I know enough,” she replied. Elaborating would have made things too easy for him so she allowed herself to fall silent again. The flames spat sparks out of the fireplace and onto the floor around her father, but he didn’t move. His eyes strafed her in an attempt to elicit the information that would make it easier for him to understand how deeply she was feeling the hurt.
“Don’t be cryptic, Maeve. I know you have been told something of the nature of your life and the events at Abbeylara,” he said, keeping his voice aloof. This was no ordinary mortal, to be used and toyed with in the name of the gods’ convenience. This was his daughter and one he was especially fond of. But even so, he couldn’t afford to be too familiar with her, especially not now. “If that man of yours has proved anything, it is that you certainly know how to choose your mate well. He has spent an inordinate amount of time in the Hogwarts library of late, so I am led to believe.”
“I’m a weapon.” She spoke with no emotion in her voice, no expression on her face. “No, let’s be specific; I’m your weapon. To be used to reclaim a reneged debt and then what?” She paused, the shock of the revelation had still not been absorbed and the words felt bitter on her lips. With a scalding change of tack she spat more questions at him.
“Did you at least have fun with my mother? Was it pleasurable to fulfil your duty and produce the means to an end? Or was it an onerous task from start to finish? Where your fellow immortals pleased with you?” The muscles in her face were tight with the suppressed anger that she was keeping from her questions.
“They were.” He matched her bland tone syllable for syllable. “For a while, at least. But I kept revisiting your mother, and that is most definitely not allowed. We passed many pleasurable days together, a full season, from Lughnasadh to Samhain. You can image the uproar when I was late for my own festival.” Pausing for the implications of those visits to sink in, he made just the smallest movement away from the heat of the fire. The precious time spent with Grainne O’Malley had been snatched moments that he would never regret. She had been an exceptionally gifted as a magical being and he felt an attraction towards her that was hard to resist. He reluctantly re-focussed his attention on his daughter and the matter in hand.
“You must not be distressed, child, by knowing your reason for being here,” he continued, his voice gilded with love. “You are one of the fortunate ones because at least you have the answer to the eternal question. How many people question their reason for being here? How many ask the gods for explanations as to why they were ever born? Think of all the other poor souls, going about their daily business with no idea whether or not they have fulfilled their purpose. They will take that uncertainty to their graves with them. And yet you, you have a great gift; you know what it is you must do.”
“And I am supposed to be happy about that?” She regarded him with something close to incredulity. “I know that I have to defeat Voldemort along with two other creations of your loins. That is supposed to make me feel special?”
“I did not say special, I said fortunate. When the deed is done you can relax knowing the gods have nothing further in store for you. What you choose to do with the rest of your life is yours to decide.” Lugh was convinced that this was something she should be pleased about so he couldn’t understand her disapproval.
“So all I have to do is help defeat the most powerful dark wizard there has ever been and I get to go and grow roses in the country somewhere? And how do you propose I aid Harry in his attempt to defeat Voldemort? How do we force Voldemort to repay his debt?”
“You had the means and failed to use it properly. Where is the necklace?” Lugh’s eyes moved to her scarred neck. If the wounds concerned him he did not allow it to show.
“It’s gone, lost in the fire at Abbeylara.” She looked brazenly at her father, further incensed by the implication that it was her fault that things had gone wrong. “It was removed to save my life because the magic ” your magic ” threatened to kill both myself and Harry.”
“The necklace is not lost to us. I can still feel its presence so it must still be intact.” He looked distant for a moment, his mind focussed on something beyond the room.
“But that’s not possible,” she insisted. “Harry ripped it from my neck and it fell to the floor. It must have burned with the rest of the house.
“And you are sure Harry does not still have it?” His attention returned from its meandering and once again alighted on his daughter.
“Of course not. He would have given it back if had still had it.” Maeve hadn’t considered the possibility that it might have been saved from the inferno and yet she was suddenly doubtful. In the hurried rush to escape she couldn’t say for certain that it had been lying on the floor. Smoke and hot, insistent fear and clouded her last moments in the house so how could she be sure she had seen it?
“Perhaps you should ask him,” her father said. “It is somewhat necessary to your task.”
“My task?” She gave a little sniff of laughter. “How very epic that sounds.”
“It is indeed epic,” he replied, his face a vision of sincerity that made Maeve, finally, begin to really understand what she had been involved with. This was something so huge that she didn’t really want to grasp its full implications. These were the gods, the immortals; they had the power of life or death over everything if they so chose. They made Voldemort look like a complete, bumbling amateur.
“Why don’t you just finish Voldemort off yourself?” she asked. It didn’t seem beyond the bounds of reason that if Voldemort was such a threat with his cheated power that the gods couldn’t just take his life. It would be in the interests of the greater good and she was sure they wouldn’t feel the need to justify themselves to anyone anyway.
Lugh’s aura flared angrily against her thoughts as he toyed with telling her everything. As it was, he decided he needed to keep most of the details from her.
“We have our honour,” he said, his voice ominously hushed. “We would not just take a man’s life without giving him the chance to re-pay the loan.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, looking for something in him that would confirm her suspicions. The wind had risen and was rattling at the sash windows in an insistent manner but the impotent howling made no impact on either Maeve or her father.
“We cannot kill him ourselves, that is all you need to know.” His patience faltered momentarily as Lugh realised he couldn’t have expected her to walk away without a proper explanation.
“If you want me to be a part of this then I want to know everything.” She decided to stand her ground, feet welded to the floor along with her immovable resolve. “You may be a god, you may have power beyond anything I will ever know, but if you can’t kill this man and you require me to help you then you need to tell me the details.”
“I wasn’t involved in the original arrangement with Tom Riddle. That was Midir’s orchestration,” he began, his determination crumbling slowly as her stubbornness wormed its way into his head. “He always was a deeply unsettling influence, Midir. This Tom Riddle thought himself a clever man to manage to broker this ridiculous deal with one of the immortals.”
Lugh paused as he recalled the dismay amongst his peers at the news that a human had managed to gain the gift of immortality. Midir was the son of their chief, Dagda, and as such tended to get his own way. He wanted power more than anything and tried many ways to achieve it. Unfortunately for him he could never be anything other than second in command, and when the first in command was the father of the gods then it really was a poor position. No one knew how he had managed to find Tom Riddle, but found him he had. Lugh believed that Midir had been promised the power he so desired in return for this immortality that would be relinquished after a period of two hundred years. Midir, of course, would keep his share of power over the wizarding and Muggle worlds, power far greater than what he had in his own world. Although the gods have much power they are governed in their use of it and were, generally speaking, kept away from mortal matters. This exchange between Midir and Tom Riddle was highly prohibited and went against everything the gods stood for.
“A council was called without delay and a proposal was put forward to have the loan of the immortality repaid immediately,” Lugh continued. “Of course, Riddle refused and instead laughed in the face of our representative. He swore he would never relinquish the immortality he had gained and we were forced to devise a way to get it back. It seemed that the only way was to have him killed but, as you well know, this is no ordinary man and of course he is now carrying the immortality of the gods with him. He couldn’t be killed simply.”
Lugh looked weary of the whole thing. None of this had been his doing and yet he had been selected as the one to produce these children who would suffer so much in the name of a debt. She was still watching him attentively but he felt that her eyes had softened a little; the harshness was no longer present. There were times he wished he could relinquish his own immortality and settle on earth with a woman and a family. These constant Machiavellian schemes were wearisome in the extreme.
“So,” he continued, “Dagda ordered that a necklace be created that would contain sufficient power to vanquish this thief and Creidhne was requested to forge the chain and pendant.”
Maeve broke into his monologue with unconcealed awe. “Are you telling me that the necklace ” my necklace ” was created by the goldsmith of the Danann?” For some reason this impressed her more than her own heritage and her face was alive with the thrill of it. She felt the absence of the jewel keenly now that she knew its provenance and the wounds at her neck ached with loss, despite Severus’ potion.
“It was, and it contains a little of the power of all of us. But it had to be carefully regulated. You already know about the two children that had to be produced and the qualities they must possess. We also needed a carrier for the power and that could not be a child. A child would have been crushed beneath its power and we do have some compassion.”
“How nice of you,” she said sarcastically, but with no real malice behind the words. He ignored her barb and continued with his burdensome explanation.
“Of course the power was also too strong for an adult to bear all the time and there was the small problem of you potentially bearing a child. That could not be allowed to happen either. We could not risk you taking on that sort of responsibility. It would have made you weak.”
Her self-defensive incomprehension of the unfolding explanation was apparent as she foundered, trying to find words to articulate her disbelief.
“Are you saying that you… you made sure I did not marry or have children?” she finally managed.
“We couldn’t allow you to leave Abbeylara without the necklace. It became yours when you came of age so we had you recalled from Hogwarts in plenty of time. You could not be parted from the object or it would lose some of its potency so it was orchestrated that you would remain at Abbeylara for a great deal of the time. In doing this we also ensured that you would not continue your relationship with the boy you met at school or go on to bear children.”
Maeve saw the boy that Severus had been, the sadness of their parting, the unanswered (and, she now realised, probably never received) letters. She felt the endless sorrow of the months after they were parted and her unwillingness to re-enter the real world. She had done so, finally, to finish her schooling and work in the Irish ministry but it had never felt real after what she had experienced at Hogwarts. Her whole life had been about this, everything that had happened had happened because of this. How could they have had so much influence on her down the years?
“And Severus?” she asked hoarsely. “How does he fit into all of this?”
“He doesn’t, beyond being hopelessly in love with you.” She was about to speak but her father hadn’t finished. He needed to re-iterate to her what had been done. He needed to make her understand there was no other choice for them all. “We couldn’t risk you having a child nor could we risk you falling in love, so we arranged for you to be taken back to Ireland. It’s not hard to do with the right magic in the right place. It had to be like this because your child would have been the one to suffer. You must understand that.”
Maeve passed an involuntary hand over the place where a child could have grown inside her and she couldn’t translate her feelings. The need to mourn for a child that never had been was suddenly overwhelming. There would never be any guarantees that this would be resolved in time for her to have a baby and the thought troubled her womanhood. Lugh wasn’t quite finished though. Perhaps now that he had taken the decision to tell her everything he was bulleting along in an attempt to get it all out of the way.
“Of course your near-death at the hands of the one person who you were meant to destroy was quite a moment for us but we managed to work that to our advantage eventually. All things can be pushed in the right direction given enough willpower. Severus did uncover quite a few things. He was privileged enough to work out who you were from things that Riddle knew, although we still don’t know how Voldemort, as he is now calling himself, found out about you.”
“I’ve heard enough,” she said. “This is too much information for me to try and work my thoughts around.” Maeve wanted to get away from the soul-bruising past and return to the present. At least with the present she could try and salvage something from the titanic disaster that was her history. “The fact that we failed today must have spoiled your plans somewhat,” she observed, shooing away the demons that were riding the squall of the conversation.
“It did indeed; however there will be another time.” He looked at her knowingly. “I can see determination in your eyes, daughter. You will fight for this debt to be repaid even if you could choose not to. If you do not then your whole life will have been a waste.”
“Spare me the silly psychology,” she spat. “I will fight. I will fight for Severus and me, I will fight for Neville and Harry, and I will fight for all that has been lost because of stupidity and selfishness. It will be harder without the necklace but if that’s what I have to do then so be it.”
“Yes, well, I have located the source of the necklace and if I am not very much mistaken…”As he paused there was a light knock at the door and Lugh smiled. “The magic always returns when called.”
“You could have stopped what happened at Abbeylara,” she hissed. “We need not have suffered or nearly died.”
“Come in,” Lugh called, ignoring her remonstrations.
Harry’s untidy, unknowing head appeared, quickly followed by the rest of him, and he glanced from Maeve to Lugh, unsure which to address first. In the end he plumped for what he knew and went to Maeve’s side. She looked down at him, knowing what he was clutching in his steady hand. As he held it out to her and uncurled his fingers she saw the necklace nestled in his palm.
“I kept it,” he said quietly. “I completely forgot about it until I picked up my dirty robes and it fell out of the pocket.” He shrugged in apology. “Professor Dumbledore said you might want it back.”
“I’ll take it,” Lugh said. He crossed the room towards them in a few purposeful strides and swept the necklace from Harry’s hand before Maeve could protest. Harry looked at the man with interest. He had seen that face before but he couldn’t quite place it and he looked to Maeve for an introduction. Again Lugh took charge of the situation and, pocketing the necklace, he smiled at Harry.
“I’m Maeve’s father, Harry,” Lugh said gently.
Harry gave a small start of recognition. Of course, he should have known immediately. It was the man in his dream, and the man in the book in Dumbledore’s office all those months ago. Harry was itching to ask what the Irish immortal was doing in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place but he felt unusually unsure of himself in the face of this…he wasn’t even sure what to call him. The heat of the room made him uncomfortable. Harry longed to open one of the rattling windows and let some of the whistling, fresh air into the room to dispel some of the staleness.
“I think Harry should know,” Maeve said firmly, challenging her father to disagree. “He is as much a part of is as I am. The prophecy he knows about would be better explained if he knew the whole truth.”
With an assenting nod Lugh indicated that they sit on the sofa and for Harry’s benefit he repeated all he had told Maeve. Harry bore the news well and Maeve was impressed by his self-control as he faced his own part in this mess. She watched his mental processes as he held the new information up for comparison with what he already knew and she could see the foam of pain behind his wall of restraint.
“But my mum, did she die because of this? And Neville’s parents lost their minds.” Harry’s green eyes sparkled severely beneath his lashes.
“And Maeve… everything she’s been through. Was that all because of this stupid loan? How can you loan immortality anyway? That’s so stupid. And if Voldemort has immortality then why did he need the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“While Riddle had been given the gift of immortality there were steps he had to take to unlock it. Midir may have been reckless but he wasn’t completely lacking in sense. He laid conditions on the immortality that meant Riddle could not have access to it immediately and so he had to continue to find other ways to stay alive. We believe the time is coming when he will have fulfilled all the conditions laid down by Midir and will become unstoppable for the time stipulated in the original loan. The only way it can be removed at the moment is if he dies and so far he has managed to stay irritatingly alive, albeit in greatly reduced circumstances at times. As for your question about the technicalities of loaning the power, would you know all of the god’s secrets?” Lugh was not prepared to tell them everything and he ignored Harry’s half-spoken affirmative. “So, yes, Harry, your parents died because of this but Frank and Alice Longbottom were working on something else when they died. I think, at the time. Riddle was unaware of their son’s real part in the arrangement. I’m so sorry.” Lugh tried to look apologetic but being a god, it didn’t come easy and didn’t look quite right.
Maeve sensed that Harry was about to explode and tried to temper the outburst with one of her own. “And why take the necklace back now?” she snapped. “Why not allow me to keep it and make us finish the job?”
“Because you are exhausted by the mental effort of wearing it for so long and by the ordeal you suffered at Abbeylara. Both of you need time to reflect on what you have been told and to come to terms with it. I will keep it for the time being and will return it when the time is right.”
He moved back to the fireplace with an air of resigned disappointment. Lugh had known this would not go well. He had known at Christmas, when she had been so badly wounded and he had stepped in to save her life, that he would have to pay for that. He hadn’t realised that one of the ways he would pay was with the alienation of one of his favoured offspring. Her anger and disbelief was unsurprising but he hadn’t expected it to be directed quite so firmly at him. And Harry... He glanced at the boy with affection. He was a skinny thing, but he had steel in his backbone. It didn’t take someone of Lugh’s standing to see that. There was strength beneath that lightweight exterior and the child had proved that by saving Maeve’s life at Abbeylara. Lugh had suffered moments of grave doubts about their survival but he dare not intervene again, not after the last time when his leader had been so volcanically angry.
“So, that’s it?” Maeve was still not-so-quietly fuming. “You are just going to clear off? Leave us to pick up the pieces again? How do you think we are going to deal with this?” Harry’s exaggerated breathing beside her added fuel to her indignation. She had so many questions, none of which had satisfactory answers.
“You have each other to confide in. I suggest you also take the Longbottom child into your confidence. He needs to know. Perhaps it was wrong of us to keep it from you for so long.” Disclosure didn’t come easily to beings that were so far connected from the mortal world as Lugh was. He had already said more than he believed he should have and wondered if he would come to regret it. He would now have to return to his realm and inform his leader, Dagda, just what had transpired today. He had no idea what the greater god would make of it at all.
“I think Neville is better off not knowing,” Harry growled bitterly. The thought that poor Neville would have to take this on board too was unsettling.
“He should know,” Lugh repeated. “If only to avoid a repetition of what happened at Abbeylara. As for you, Maeve, you have a good man, a man who would die for you. You did the right thing asking him to marry you; his pride would have prevented him doing the same. Enjoy your time with him and celebrate your union. The respite you get will not be long-lived for Voldemort will be gathering his strength again after his ignominious flight from Abbeylara. I will promise you our protection for the next half-year but after that you will be at his mercy once more. All three of you and your closest loved-ones will enjoy this protection, use it well.”
Maeve felt the need for Severus’ uncompromising carping, for his gloomy outlook and predictable sarcasm. In this morass of frightening information it was good to have a straw to grasp at, no matter how miserable that straw might be. In Severus’ absence she took Harry’s hand and he didn’t pull away from the contact. No matter what her father said about their lack of blood tie she suddenly felt more like his aunt than anything and her main instincts were now to protect him from what was to come. They both glared at Lugh, unable to summon any affection for the patriarchal figure that faced them.
“You will understand, when this is all over,” he said. His adamantine faith that they would succeed now that they knew the whole truth overrode any concerns he may have had about their psychological ability to cope.
“I think we have both heard enough.” Maeve decided the time had come to stop this unasked-for meeting and she stood up, dragging Harry with her. She was dismayed that her feelings for her father had gone from warm affection to antagonism in such a short space of time. Deep down she knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault, but she wasn’t ready to accept that yet. “We need some normality and Harry needs to get back to school. I will take care of Neville. You may go back to your people and tell them things will be managed, eventually.”
Lugh approached his now composed daughter with hesitation. He found he had the urge to embrace her but was unsure of his reception and so stood facing her. “I am sorry you feel so badly about this. I will look forward to the day you can face me without such rancour. In the meantime, enjoy your wedding and you can be sure I will return the necklace when the time is right.”
She nodded her acceptance of their fate and clutched Harry’s hand a little more tightly. Harry remained stoically by her side, unconsciously giving her moral support. The awkward silence that followed was only broken when Harry unexpectedly stuck out his hand to shake Lugh’s. The taller man looked in surprise at the outstretched limb before grasping it warmly. Harry felt the same sense of home that he usually felt in Maeve’s presence and despite his confused anger about his parents he couldn’t stop the small smile of respect that crossed his face. Maeve, however, wasn’t to be swayed into demonstrations of respect or affection and she merely turned towards the door with a curt bow of her head. Harry let go of Lugh’s hand and made his way out ahead of Maeve. As she left the room she turned one last time.
“Would it be so bad just to let him keep the immortality?” she asked. Her face hopeful while her head and heart remained pessimistic.
“It would be beyond reason,” he said. “I am surprised that someone with your intelligence even needs to ask that.”
Again she nodded, this time in acknowledgement of her own pointless question, and closed the door firmly behind her.
Severus was waiting impatiently for her back in the kitchen and was relieved to see she was alone. Remus had retired to his room and Harry had also excused himself from Maeve’s presence. There were so many thoughts to put into order that the last thing either Harry or Maeve felt like doing was talking about it. For Harry he was fortunate in being left alone to come to terms with his thoughts. Maeve fared less well. Just as she was relaxing into Severus’ reassuring embrace, Dumbledore entered the room and gave a polite cough.
“I’m sorry, Maeve. I had no idea of the depths of your predicament, or Harry and Neville’s connection to it. Now that your father has fully informed me of the matters at hand I am better prepared to help you.” Dumbledore’s presence should have been reassuring but his denial of any prior knowledge did nothing to appease her and when she next spoke it was in a very formal manner.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said. “I appreciate your concern. It would seem we have been offered protection in order to recover from our recent adventure. I intend to spend that time finishing off the school year; I think we all need some normality for a short while. After that it will become apparent, no doubt, what needs to be done. If you don’t mind I would like to spend some time alone with Severus. There are things we need to discuss.”
This surprised both men though neither gave any outward sign of it. Dumbledore merely nodded his acceptance and informed them that they would be needed at Hogwarts by the following morning to continue with their duties. Maeve was pleased he was prepared to fight her formality with demands of his own. Being told that she had responsibilities had a sobering effect and galvanised her into action.
“We will both be there in time for the start of lessons tomorrow,” she confirmed. “In the meantime I wish to pay a visit to St Mungo’s.”
Dumbledore immediately grasped the wrong end of the stick firmly between his hands. He had no idea her mind was filled with thoughts of Alice and stepped in quickly to inform her of the sad news regarding the potion she had so painstakingly created.
“You should know that the antidote to the Sleepers was completely destroyed by Healer Goldspur. Arthur Weasley was one of the lucky few in this instance. There has also been yet another transgression regarding the security at Hogwarts and all the paperwork was taken from your rooms. There is nothing left of the potion, nothing at all.”
Confusion reigned for a few moments as Maeve tried to understand why it was that the unassuming, kindly healer should have been the one to betray them. Out of the two healers she had known she would put money on it being Hurtmore who would be the one to cause the trouble. But given human nature she supposed it only to be expected and mentally remonstrated with herself for jumping to personality-based conclusions.
“Was the hospital wing also broken into?” she asked enigmatically.
“No, just your rooms,” Dumbledore said. “I’m beginning to think there is a weakness in that part of the castle. Perhaps it is time to move guests to another section.”
“Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey?” Maeve was smiling now, a thin-lipped, reluctant smile that held no real affection.
“Why?” Dumbledore was aware that Maeve was too hurt to offer any real warmth but all the same, that smile chilled him to the bone.
“Because the jar I used on Fudge and Imelda will still be there. I suggest you have it sent down to St Mungo’s… but forgive me if I don’t offer to transport it myself.”
Dumbledore’s pleasure at having this unexpected solution presented to him was dampened by her continued distance. “If I may ask, why are you visiting St Mungo’s?”
“I want to speak to Alice Longbottom,” she replied, waiting for him to tell her what she already knew about Alice’s condition. He didn’t though. He merely reached out and took her unresisting hand in his own and patted it warmly, making up for her frostiness. She felt shamed by her coldness but unable to rectify it so she waited until he let go of her hand before shaking the shadows from her mind and heading for the kitchen door. Severus was torn between remaining within the safe walls of Grimmauld Place or facing the possible exposure that leaving would mean. He had half a mind to try and dissuade her from her intended visit but he knew it would probably be futile. She turned her head, fluid hair sailing across her back, and waited for him to decide.
“Aren’t you going to attempt to stop her?” Severus directed the question at Dumbledore, surprised that he was prepared to consent to her going out into the uncertainty again.
“She will be safe, and so will you.” Dumbledore was grateful to Lugh for this small concession but he had had to keep his own counsel on the general scheme of the gods. He seldom lost his temper with people ” he found it to be an overrated pastime and it used up far too much energy ” but he could have lost it with Lugh under these circumstances.
Severus knew better than to question Dumbledore when he spoke so compellingly and with a brief goodbye he went to join Maeve as she made her departure. The ticking of the clocks serenaded them down the hallway as the front door was opened to allow the refreshing air to flood the fusty space. She linked arms with Severus and although he remained unbending beside her she felt comforted by his obdurate presence. Sometimes, she thought, it is better to have certainty than overblown sentimentality.
They walked through city streets that were contentedly settled into their pre-rush hour calm. Fingers of sunlight worked their way along the pavements and rooftops, gently caressing everything they touched. If any of the mothers, hurrying their children away from school or towards the park, noticed the oddly dressed man and woman, they didn’t show any signs of doing so. Nor did the gaggle of old ladies who were waiting for the number fifty-seven bus, although one did look admiringly at Severus before being reminded by her friend Elsie that she had left her glasses in the bingo hall that they had just left.
Severus didn’t really like walking through London’s dirt-laden streets. There were too many people and far too much potential for trouble for him to be really at ease. Maeve seemed unconcerned as she walked quietly at his side, matching his long strides with perfect timing of her own. It didn’t take long for them to reach Purge and Dowse and, with a dubious glance at the unseeing Muggles around them, Maeve announced their arrival. Within seconds they were transported to the purifying, clinical atmosphere of the hospital that Mungo Bonham had founded all those years ago. She announced herself to the welcome- witch who looked at her with a flustered expression.
“You been before?” she asked hurriedly.
“Yes,” Maeve responded.
“Well, then you know your way, don’t you?” she snapped, looking around her to the next person in line. “Next?”
“A little bit of civility would be nice,” Maeve said coldly and the welcome witch looked at her as if she had just crawled out of a cauldron. Realising she was dealing with the sort of bureaucratic approach that would defeat even Voldemort, Maeve walked away in disgust and they both headed for the stairs.
Severus waited outside the closed ward for Maeve to do what she had to do. He had had enough of this place when his mother had been alive and he wasn’t about to subject himself to more bed-watching. His brooding presence was unnerving the young trainee Healer that had to keep walking up and down the corridor with patients’ notes. Twice she had dropped parchments and on each occasion he had not offered to help her pick them up.
Alice was lying in bed, her fingers working anxiously at the bedclothes as she picked at the cotton cover. Her straggly hair was fanned out on the pillow in grey rat’s tails, offering a depressing frame for her washed-out face. On the bedside table stood a jug of water that refracted the bright lights in a prism of colour that danced its victory over the half-light that was Alice. Maeve poured some of the water into a glass with mechanical movements and offered it to the woman in the bed as an icebreaker, but Alice looked blankly at the glass and made no attempt to sit up. Maeve placed the water gently back on the table and picked up the photograph that stood beside the jug. Neville’s one-year-old face looked back at her, gurgling his delight at life in general. She wondered if Alice ever looked on the image with recognition and this thought reminded her of why she had come. She put the picture down and reached across the bed, taking Alice’s limp hands in her own stronger ones. There it was, the same feeling of warmth and heat she had whenever she touched Harry or Neville. The link from beyond their world that invisibly, yet unbreakably, bound them together.
“Hello, Alice,” she whispered. For a deceptive moment she thought Alice would turn to her but the minor movement of Alice’s head was reflexive rather than cognitive. “I came to tell you a few things, a few things that might put your mind at ease.”
Maeve glanced across at the other bed and saw that Alice’s husband was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling like a calm boat bobbing in a safe harbour. All about her the ward was silent and she felt that the very walls were straining to hear what she had to say to the confused mother before her.
“We know about the Drooble’s gum and the vapour that Voldemort was trying to make. He tried again but we managed to overcome his plans. Neville was a very instrumental part of helping us find out what the vapour was and you must be so proud of him. But you don’t need to give him the gum wrappers any more because he knows now; he knows how to be safe from the vapour. Neville has many, many good people looking after him and he has such good friends at school. Some of them are like brothers to him. You don’t have to worry about Neville, Alice… not ever.” Maeve realised the enormity of her lie and she hoped she would be forgiven for it, but if some small part of this woman’s addled brain could take some comfort from what she was telling her then it would have been worth it. “I know you probably don’t know me, but I was a friend of Lily’s at school, Maeve O’Malley. I’m teaching at Hogwarts now and I promise you I will keep a special eye on your son. He will make you both so proud of him, really, he will. He will be a great wizard in his field one day, I can promise you that.”
She didn’t realise at first that her hand was being squeezed, but slowly she registered the tight, bony fingers pressing against her own fleshier ones. She looked towards Alice’s hands and they were white with the effort of giving the small sign of recognition. Maeve was grateful for the woman’s efforts to let her know her attempts at consolation had not been in vain. She waited until the grip was relaxed and then gently moved her hands from the dry chill of the papery clasp. She bent low over the bed and looked Alice directly in the eyes, waiting for the flare of connection that she felt must come.
The air was stilled about them and she felt the edges of her mind scratched at with compelling insistence. The ward around her receded into the background and all she could see were Alice’s large, limpid eyes boring into her. She felt it, for a few blistering moments she felt Alice’s complete bemusement and hazy grasp of feelings. It frightened her but at the same time was tantalising in its abandonment. She wavered, seeing Alice’s memories and pictures shine unsteadily in her own mind like a Muggle cine-film or one of those old Victorian zoetropes that her father had collected for a while. And in the melee of memories she saw a face, a face that made her gasp in sorrow and she hastily broke the connection. She wasn’t ready to see someone else’s memories of Roderick yet, not when her own still remained in such disarray.
“Goodbye, Alice,” she said, her mind slowly letting go of the feeling of mental incapacity. “I promise that whenever I am in London I will drop in and let you know how Neville is doing.”
As she stepped out of the ward she saw a young witch struggling with a mayhem of parchments that were strewn across the floor. She instantly dropped to her haunches and began helping the girl pick them up, placing them carefully back in the girl’s arms before turning back to Severus.
“What’s the matter with you?” she bit. “Have you lost the use of your arms?”
Severus sighed, muttered something about incompetent witches and stood up without sparing a look at the harassed Healer. He didn’t ask about Alice and she didn’t tell him what had passed between the two of them on the ward. Severus wouldn’t have understood the frightening loss of control that came from losing one’s mind, because he couldn’t imagine a life in which he didn’t have control of his mind, and he would have thought her mad for opening herself up to it. They went for a steadying cup of coffee in the teashop, where Severus relished the opportunity to snarl at the cheerful woman behind the counter. It was the same woman who had been serving the last time Maeve had been here, she hadn’t noticed her name badge then but now she did and it announced that the cheery woman was called Gladys. Gladys recognised Maeve and it was all she could do to stop herself exclaiming in surprise at seeing her with such a miserable ball of nastiness as the man in black. She was even more surprised that Maeve actually seemed happy in his company. Takes all sorts, she thought to herself as she carried a tray containing coffee and Filipendula Sponge Cake over to their table.
They consumed the contents of the tray with minimal conversation before making their way back to Grimmauld Place in gentle silence. They just wanted to spend their last night together before they went back to the enforced separation of Hogwarts.