~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.