When you find someone that's true to you
Some days are up and oh some days are blue
Just don't go and throw it all away
Wait a minute, you gotta hear what I say
Isn’t it always love that makes you hang your head
Isn’t it always love that makes you cry
And isn’t it always love that takes the tears away
And I wouldn’t have it any other way
-Karla Bonoff
Cedrella never remembered afterwards exactly how she made it back to Hogwarts. She remembered the feeling of being paralyzed with shock and horror and grief on that picturesque hillside, the feeling of being unable to move from that place. She remembered sitting there in the cold for hours, rooted to the spot, staring at the place where Septimus had vanished.
Eventually though, she must have gotten up, walked back down the mountainside and through the village and along the path to Hogwarts and up the steps and down them again and let herself into the Slytherin Common Room and swept straight through it, ignoring the curious looks from the younger students, and into her dormitory. She must have, because she could remember with vivid, painful acuity how she had shut herself in the girls bathroom, and how, only after casting a well placed Colloportus and an Impenetrable Charm for good measure, she had curled up on the cold flagstones and sobbed”great, wracking cries that bounced and echoed around the small stone room again and again, amplifying her misery and surrounding her in it.
She was not sure she had ever been so miserable in her life, nor had she cried so hard. As prone to tears as she had become in the past year, Cedrella had never felt so unable to control herself, so utterly powerless to the emotions thundering through her body. Every time she tried to contain herself, pull it together, stop the sobs tearing at her raw throat, a fresh wave of tears would break over her and she collapsed once more on the floor. She felt pathetic, she felt weak, she felt foolish, and yet instead of helping her control herself those feelings just made it all the worse. Because aside from the shock, the horror, and the grief, an indisputable fact was clear to her: Septimus was right. She had been deluding herself, leading them both on, prolonging the pain of something she should have ended months ago. Rekindling contact with Septimus was the worst thing she could have done. It hadn’t been presumptuous at all, what he had asked her to do, not after she initiated the communication. What had she expected, that he existed simply to cater to her every want and need? How could she have been so single-minded, so selfish? She hated herself for it, hated him for pointing it out, and hated the fact that she could still feel his last kiss on her lips. And she hated that she was being so melodramatic”but she couldn’t help herself. She felt like she could cry forever, like she would, like nothing would ever make her able to get up again.
Of course, some hours later when she opened her eyes to the underside of the sinks, a dull ache all over her body, and a very sore throat, she did get up. She got up and washed, and then twisted her hair up in a towel and put on a dressing gown and removed the charms from the door and went back into the dormitory.
It was empty except for Eleanor Selwyn, who was asleep on her bed with the hangings only half drawn. Exhausted, and not wanting to think about the morning, Cedrella drank three glasses of water and fell asleep.
**
The clock on the wall said seven-thirty when Cedrella next opened her eyes. She was at first not sure what had woken her up, but then she realized that her hangings had been pulled back and her sister, wearing a dressing gown, a bow in her hair, and a frown, was standing over her bed. Eleanor Selwyn stood a few feet behind her, looking curious.
Cedrella tried to sigh, but no sound came out. Her throat felt like someone had scoured it with steel wool. Wincing, she sat up, refilled her water glass with an Aguamenti charm, and took a long drink.
Her sister’s silent disapproval did not last for long. Charis folded her arms, sat down on the edge of the bed, and said baldly, “Where were you yesterday, and why couldn’t Eleanor get into her bathroom?”
“Don’t mince words, do you?” Cedrella said hoarsely, trying to work through the fog in her brain and come up with something to say. She wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t even thought about how to handle this yet.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Yesterday I was in Hogsmeade, and then I was here,” Cedrella said at last. “And I imagine that Eleanor couldn’t get into the bathroom because she hasn’t mastered the first year level charm that reverses Colloportus. Now Charis, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so if you don’t mind”“ she made to get out of bed, but her sister interrupted her.
“That’s not much of an answer, Cedrella, and you know it! Why”“
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Charis,” Cedrella snapped, standing up and forcing her sister to her feet as well. “Please leave my room.” Charis stared at her, shocked surprise written plainly across her face. Cedrella could only imagine what she looked like”dressing gown slightly askew, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, hair curly and disheveled, lips still red and chapped. Guilty, in her sister’s eyes. She didn’t care. She just wanted her sister gone so she could think, figure out what had happened and what to do and how she was supposed to exist anymore. “Go,” she said, pointing at the door. “Now.”
And to her surprise, Charis went. Cedrella was sure it was only a brief respite, but she couldn’t deal with her tattletale sister in that moment. Better that the confrontation was later, once she could clear her head, once she was in control of it.
**
Over the next week, Septimus’ last words to her rang in her ears during class as she tried to take notes, during meals as she ate alone, monitoring the Great Hall for misbehavers, while she sat in the library trying to study, and as she walked the halls of the castle on Head Girl patrol. His accusations, none of them kind and all of them true, never left her”every time she had almost focused on something, on anything else, something reminded her of him and all of it came rushing back in painful detail: the sound of his voice, angry and yet close to tears, his white face and windswept flaming hair. Cedrella felt like her resolution from the summer”that she would never let herself forget Septimus”had come back to curse her. Now, when all she wanted was a respite from the pain thoughts of him caused her, she could think of nothing else. She longed to forget, sometimes just for a few hours and sometimes, in darker moments, forever. If she could only erase those memories, simply make them disappear, she thought she might be all right.
But she couldn’t, and it was all very confusing anyway because despite her wish to forget Septimus, she did not want to disregard the second part of her resolution”that she wasn’t going to loose herself. But somehow in her mind who she was and who Septimus was and what they were together had gotten all mixed up, and she felt at times like it was hopeless to try to distinguish one from another. Who am I then? she would wonder, desperately wanting the answer and yet simultaneously hating the melodrama. Over and over she resolved to wait, to see if memories of Septimus grew less acute over time, if she could find a way to move on.
**
November 10th, 1934
Dear Cedrella,
I hope this letter finds you well. I do apologize that I was not able to meet you in Hogsmeade in October”I had a very important meeting I needed to attend that weekend and making it up to Scotland would have been impractical. But I would very much like to see you and I hope the next free weekend I have you will be able to excuse yourself from the castle for a few hours to see me.
Things here in London are going very well. Work is busier than ever, as I have three new members that were recently added to my squad and am in the process of conditioning them and completing their training. Though they show great potential, they are frustratingly green and inept at times, which tries the patience of my whole squad and me most of all. I am sure I was not this cumbersome when I was a trainee! However, it is an important part of my job and of course we are always looking to expand our staff, so I take my mentorship of them most seriously.
My mother always inquires after you and, if you were so inclined, she would be pleased to hear from you.
All my best,
Caspar
Cedrella’s scowl grew more and more pronounced as she read the letter. When she finished it she scoffed, crushed it in her hand, and dropped it onto the table, returning to her eggs, trying to be supremely indifferent and not dwell on the fact that Caspar in person was about a dozen times worse than Caspar on paper.
“Cedrella?”
She looked around. It was Vladimir Dearborn, her fellow Head Boy, standing behind her. She forced a smile. “Hello.”
“The meeting with Dippet’s been moved to tonight at nine,” he said. “Professor Dumbledore just told me.”
“Thank you,” Cedrella said. “I’ll see you then?”
“Yes,” he said, turning to go. Then he turned back. “Who wrote the letter?”
“Excuse me?”
“The letter,” he said, pointing at the crumpled parchment beside her plate. “You looked like someone had force fed you raw bobotuber pus.”
She let out an unexpected laugh at his observation. It felt strange in her throat and on her face, and she realized it had been weeks since she’d laughed without faking it. “That isn’t a completely inaccurate assessment,” she said. “Though I do try to pretend I like him. Was I really that obvious?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “Who are you failing to pretend you like?”
“My fiancée,” Cedrella said with another half laugh, realizing a moment after it slipped out of her mouth that she shouldn’t have said it. Vladimir could mention it to anyone. Anyone could overhear. She sighed, the lighthearted moment already over.
“Well… that’s unfortunate.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But it’s really here nor there,” she added quickly. “I’ll see you tonight, Vladimir.”
“Sure,” he said. His parting look was almost pitying, and she didn’t even mind. Perhaps she wanted to be pitied.
After her Potions class that afternoon, as her feet carried her automatically towards the Slytherin dormitories, she had the sudden, unbidden thought that she ought to visit Pepper. She changed directions without thinking twice, pointing her feet towards the stairs that would lead her out of the dungeons and onto the grounds. It had been a long time since she’d seen Pepper, after how close they’d gotten the first month of term. Originally she had gone to see him to ask him about his aunt the bird-speaker, then after that she had gone so she would have something interesting to write to Septimus about…
She bit her lip, the familiar sharp pain darting through her chest as Septimus once again wormed his way into her thoughts, pervaded her consciousness.
Pepper was sitting on his front steps skinning a rabbit, with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows even though Cedrella, wrapped in a cloak, was shivering from the cold November air. “Miz Black!” he called, voice jovial, as he saw her approaching. “I was wonderin’ when you’d take your nose outta those books and find your way down here again.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that”she was never particularly sure of what to do around Pepper”so she offered him a small smile and said simply “Hello. I hope it’s a good time?”
“As good as any,” he said, gathering up the remains of the rabbit. “C’mon inside, it’s cold out for a thing like you.”
Cedrella followed him gratefully out of the cold and into his hut, draping her cloak across the back of one of the chairs and moving towards the small stove to boil some water for tea. She could feel Pepper’s eyes on her as she filled the pot, lit the fire underneath it, fiddled with the lid, got out the mugs, and when she turned around she was unsurprised to find him surveying her with an unusually thoughtful expression.
“So, how’s the writin’ and researchin’ coming, Miz Black?”
“It’s…” Cedrella had not looked once at her notes since that horrible day in Hogsmeande, had not once opened a book on Wizarding ancestry or owl husbandry. “It’s not coming, much,” she admitted. “Not in the past two weeks or so, anyway.”
“Well that’s a shame,” Pepper said gruffly, accepting the tea she offered him. “Seems you’d almost got it all tied up and figured out, hadn’t you?”
“Yes, I…. my initial research question, yes,” Cedrella admitted. “But I think I was telling you about the recent sort of tangent I’ve been following, about the owls communication with one another and their language itself…there hasn’t really been much research done on that, so I’ve been making my own observations, I suppose. Septimus thought it was really interesting, he”“ she broke off, feeling the blood drain from her face. There he was again, ever present in her thoughts, in her life. How could she ever feel happy, feel like herself, when thoughts of him made her feel like she was being suffocated every five minutes?
Pepper was looking at her in that strange way again, and she realized that his watery blue eyes, just like Vladimir’s, were full of pity. It was a strange expression on Pepper, who was usually so matter of fact and cheerful.
She looked away, into her tea. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she muttered. “It’s my fault.”
She heard his chair scrape against the floor, heard him get to his feet and walk around the table and come to stand beside her seat. He put one large hand on her shoulder. “Miz Black, you’ve got a lot goin’ for you besides for that crazy boy. I know you care for him”so do I, though I ‘spect it’s a bit different.” He chuckled to himself. “ But yer Head Girl, and a damn good one too from what I hear up at the castle. Yer smart, and interestin’, more than most people I know, and you’ve got somethin’ good with that owl book of yers.” He sighed, and Cedrella looked up from her tea at last, surprised and touched by the way this usually formidable man was trying to cheer her up. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say,” he said, “is that Sep liked you before he ever spoke to you, y’know? He always used to tell me about the girl from the Owlery, which I have a feelin’ was you. Yer a fascinatin’ and valuable person, Miz Black”always have been, always will be. Now,” he added, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “c’mere, I’ll show you how this rabbit gets cleaned, and then I got a bag o’ herbs from the forest that need sortin’, if you want to give me a hand.”
“Of course,” Cedrella said, a rush of gratitude and affection for Pepper welling up inside her. “I’d love to learn about the rabbit. Let’s get started.”
She stayed at Pepper’s for dinner, the two of them talking for hours about the plants and animals of the forest. And that night in her dormitory, instead of going straight to sleep filled with troubled dreams about Septimus, or lying awake for hours thinking of him, she was up till nearly dawn, quill in hand, buried in her research once more.
**
Time passed in strange spurts that November for Cedrella. Sometimes it felt as if every hour, every day, was so long that the smallest things exhausted her. Those were the times when Septimus, or rather his absence, weighed heavily on her mind, hanging in the back of her consciousness, constantly there, constantly painful. Those were the times when it took calculated effort to smile when necessary, and speak when spoken to, and pay attention in class. Those were the times when she remembered that night crying on the bathroom floor and felt so empty that she almost wished she could cry that way again, just so that she could feel something, so that she could escape herself for a little while.
Other times, hours and days passed almost without her noticing them. Afternoons in the Owlery, parchment spread out before her, taking notes as she talked with the owls or simply listened, could pass in the blink of an eye. Frosty days spent with Pepper in his cabin and in the forest as he taught her about local plants and how to set a trap line, melted together. Evening patrols through the quiet castle with Vladimir were, some days, no longer awkward and silent but flew by as the two of them talked about Head business or, more often, nothing in particular. At these times, she still thought of Septimus, still felt that ripple of pain in her chest every time something reminded her of him, but it didn’t make her feel helpless. She didn’t feel empty, she felt…busy, and useful, and needed. And it was all right.
She thought often of what Pepper had said”he liked you before he ever spoke to you. Meaning that he saw something in her, something good, before they ever interacted. Meaning that Septimus did not create all of those things that made her feel like herself. Some of them must have been there before. And on the good days, when she was working with Pepper or laughing about Slughorn with Vladimir, she thought that they could be there again.
It was on one such optimistic afternoon as she crossed the Entrance Hall on the way back from the grounds that she heard someone calling her.
“Um, Head Girl? Drell?”
She spun around instinctively at the familiar nickname, looking wildly about the Entrance Hall, until she saw the tiny redheaded first year from the Hogwarts Express standing halfway up the staircase.
She let out a breath of relief. Of course. It was just Ellen.
“Hi, Ellen, how are you?”
“Oh I’m all right,” the girl answered, cheerfully. “But I had a question?”
“Of course, what is it?”
“It’s my friend, Linny,” Ellen answered, looking up at Cedrella earnestly. “She doesn’t have normal”I meant Muggle”family like me, but I’m doing a lot better with learning magic, like in Transfiguration and Charms and stuff. I think she’s starting to get miffed at me, and I tried to help her with her homework but I’m not very good at that and I don’t think she wanted me to anyhow. I’m not sure what I ought’ta do about it.”
“Well it’s not your fault if you’re doing well in your classes, you know,” Cedrella said, the innocent problem making her smile. “That’s fantastic actually, I’m proud of you. But sometimes it’s fun for people who have lived in the Wizarding world their whole lives to tell people like you about it, and be the one to teach you about things like Quidditch and Hippogriffs and the Ministry.” She was thinking of the way Muggle-borns were always attached at the hip to a more knowledgeable first year at the beginning of the school year, how even Septimus had told her that he’d been the informant of his fellow Quidditch team member Gavin when they first came to Hogwarts.
“Linny does that,” Ellen said, nodding. “Well, everybody does, but Linny the most. Cause I’m with her the most.”
“Exactly,” Cedrella said, nodding. “That can be really fun for pure”for people who know all about the Wizarding world. But pretty soon you’re going to know enough that she doesn’t have to do that anymore, and Linny might…be getting sad that she can’t help you learn anymore.”
Ellen frowned. “That doesn’t make very much sense that she would do that.”
“No,” Cedrella agreed, “but a lot of the time people don’t make sense. And that’s okay.”
Ellen nodded, looking like she was thinking hard. Cedrella smiled in spite of herself. Suddenly, the younger girl looked up at Cedrella, her eyes wide as if she’d just had a brilliant idea. “I know! Will you help Linny with her spells? Then she won’t be mad at me any longer, and maybe you could help me with my Astronomy charts too, ‘cause those are terrible confusing.”
Cedrella almost laughed, almost told Ellen that she was Head Girl and talking eight N.E.W.Ts, but that she would ask around and find someone to tutor Linny… and then she stopped herself. Why not? wondered a voice in her head. It’s a distraction. You like this girl, right? She’s making you smile.
“That sounds like a perfect idea, Ellen,” she said instead. “Do you think you could meet me in the library and eight on Tuesday night? It’s my night off from patrol.”
“Yeah, great!” Ellen said enthusiastically. “Oh, I’ll tell Gladys”she’s in our house too”she’s been doing bad in Potions… Thanks Drell!” She waved, grinning, and sprinted off up the stairs, her robes flapping to reveal unmatched socks and her pigtails bouncing around her shoulders.
Cedrella watched her go, wondering what she had gotten herself into. Then she turned and walked down the staircase to the dungeons, the area around her heart feeling warm from the sound of “Drell” in her ears once more.
**
Cedrella came back from Pepper’s that evening in December just before curfew. They had spent the morning setting traps in the forest, tramping through snow that was, at times, almost up to Cedrella’s knees. She didn’t see how any animals could survive in it, but Pepper knew exactly where to go”where the trees and dead brush were the thickest, and near the running water. They didn’t talk much, but the woods were quiet and calm and Cedrella didn’t mind. The companionship was more than enough. They had planned to check the last trap line on the way back, but by three in the afternoon it had started snowing again and even under her sweater, cloak, and the thick fur that Pepper had thrown over her shoulders, Cedrella was shivering. So she asked a passing owl to check which traps were full, and he returned in less than five minutes reporting rabbit and jarvey in five and six. They took a shortcut off the path, Cedrella marveling at how unafraid she was of the forest in Pepper’s presence, gathered the rodents from the traps by the stream, and got back to the gamekeeper’s hut before the gusts of snow turned into a full fledged blizzard. Thawing by the fire and letting the ice crystals melt from her hair while watching with careful attention as Pepper showed her how to clean the rabbit, Cedrella realized she was happy, and also perhaps more extraordinarily, that she hadn’t thought of Septimus all morning. The winter air was invigorating, the work was interesting, she was with a friend whom she trusted, and best of all she felt useful”Pepper had gotten more done today with her along, especially with the information she’d gotten from the owls.
They ate fresh rabbit for dinner, Pepper drinking hot mead and Cedrella tea, and it was the best thing she had tasted in a long time. Finally, as it neared nine, Pepper stood up and said in his gruff way. “Time I got you up ter the castle, Miz Black.” Cedrella agreed reluctantly, and they wrapped up in cloaks and furs once more and stepped out into the snowstorm.
Pepper left her at the castle doors with a rough, yet affectionate pat on the head and a “work hard in those classes, now,” before he turned and disappeared into the snow. Cedrella sighed, and headed for the Slytherin Common Room, her thoughts on traps and forests and how she might ask the owls to help them in the future and that she really ought to introduce Ellen to Pepper.
She was about to give the password when she became aware of a large person standing just beside the concealed door, and large person who smelled of velvet and expensive drink and something sugary.
“Ah, Miss Black, there you are.” It was Professor Slughorn.
“Good evening, Sir. Did you need me for something?” Cedrella was not sure she had ever actually seen her Head of House in the dungeons before, except for during Potions class. His office was floors above.
“Yes, Professor Dippet asked me to find you, you see, and nobody had seen you all day. Where have you been, my dear?”
“Studying,” Cedrella said carelessly, more concerned about the first part of his statement than the second. “What does Professor Dippet want?” Have I missed a Head’s meeting? she wondered, racking her brain. No I certainly haven’t. Maybe he has extra duties for me. Funny that he wouldn’t just ask Slughorn to pass on the message…
“I don’t know, my dear, but it was hours ago and he told me to find you as quickly as possible. I’ve been running about the castle ever since!” He puffed, looking put-upon.
“I’ll go see him now, shall I?” Cedrella said, starting to get nervous. “Good night Sir.” She sidestepped Slughorn and hurried back up the steps, into the Entrance Hall, and up the grand staircase, wondering what they Headmaster could possibly have to say that was so urgent. If it was Head duties, he certainly could have gotten by with Dearborn for the afternoon. She gave the password to enter the head’s office, hurried up the rotating steps, and knocked.
“Come in,” said Dippet’s voice.
Cedrella opened the door on the familiar office and looked towards the headmaster’s desk. He sat in his chair, across from another man. Cedrella didn’t have to wait for him to turn around to know who he was, or for a sick feeling of fear to sweep through her stomach.
“Miss Black, there you are at last,” the Headmaster was saying mildly. “As you can see, you have a visitor.”
He had turned around anyway, of course. Cedrella forced her knees into a curtsey, keeping her eyes raised and locked with his the whole time. “Hello, Father.”
He nodded once and she stood up straight again, heart pounding. What was he doing here? Here! In her safe place! “I have spoken with Headmaster Dippet,” Arcturus Black was saying, “And he has agreed to let you leave for the holidays a few days early, due to your exemplary work this term.” There was menace in his voice as he said it. “I requested a house elf to pack your things. We are leaving, now?”
Cedrella didn’t move.
“Now,” her father repeated.
“May I ask why?” she said, as calmly as possible. All she wanted to do was scream at him the way she had over the summer, but that wasn’t going to serve her anymore.
He ignored her, standing up and tucking a pocket watch back into his cloak. He shook hands with Dippet, who, Cedrella was disgusted but not altogether surprised to see, looked just as intimidated by her father as she was, and placed a forceful hand on her shoulder, steering her out of the room.
“Merry Christmas, Sir, thank you for everything,” Cedrella said to Dippet, and allowed herself to be pushed from the office.
The moment the door closed she shook of her father’s hand. “I can walk,” she snapped.
He redoubled his grip, this time on her upper arm. “Exactly.”
Cedrella frowned to herself as they swept down the steps. What did he mean? Why is he treating me like a prisoner again? she wondered. What did I do this time? I’ve been perfectly obedient, unless you count going to Pepper’s and how could he know about that? I chose him, for Merlin’s sake. I chose the Blacks! Isn’t that enough?
A house elf was waiting for them with Cedrella’s trunk at the foot of the stairs. “Here you are, sir and miss,” he squeaked.
“Thank you,” Cedrella told him, ignoring her father’s disapproving look that was burning into her for speaking to a house elf like that.
The elf directed them to a Floo in a room just off the Entrance Hall, and Cedrella’s father withdrew a pouch from his robes and offered it to her. She dipped her fingers into the glittering powder, but did not throw it onto the flames. “Where are we going?”
“Chateau Noir,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.
“Father, I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand,” Cedrella said, trying again. “Why do I need to go home early? Where is Charis? Is something wrong?”
“Hold your tongue and get in the Floo, Cedrella,” he said, and she could tell it was a threat.
And suddenly the question that had so plagued her since October, that she had been feeling closer to finding an answer to over the past weeks, came to mind once more. She thought of Hogwarts, of her corner of the library, of the Owlery and her friends that lived there, of her Head Girl duties that she took such pride and care with, of her classes and her research, of Pepper and Ellen and even Vladimir Dearborn. Don’t listen to him. she told herself.You can do this. “I’m not going to go anywhere,” she said, as calmly as she could, “until you tell me why.”
She could almost see the struggle behind his ice-cold eyes”but empty though the room may be, they weren’t safe in his study. There were twenty people in a classroom mere meters away, including a professor, who would all come running if they heard her scream. Cedrella moved ever so slightly to the left, standing in front of the door, and gripped her wand inside the pocket of her robes. Don’t think I won’t do it, she thought, glaring directly into her father’s gaze. Don’t you dare think I won’t.
The staring contest lasted at least two full minutes. Cedrella had never felt so tense in her life”it took every ounce of willpower she had to remain standing there, poised to scream, fight, and flee. It went against her most ingrained instincts: obedience, self-preservation, and fear of the man before her. She could feel her limbs trembling slightly, but she didn’t move, didn’t shift her gaze. Something very wrong was going on here, she was certain of it. And nobody, not even her father, was taking her away from Hogwarts without a reason.
At last, Arcturus Black drew a folded newspaper from the inside of his cloak and handed it to her. She stared down at it, heart pounding, puzzled. It was the Society pages of the Daily Prophet, the place where Purebloods bragged about births and parties and engagements and deaths…
And that’s when she saw it, in innocent, common type: Crouch-Black Wedding: The youngest son of Bartimeus and Lyra Crouch, Caspar, will wed Cedrella Narcissa Black at two in the afternoon on December 21st in a Winter Solstice ceremony.
As Cedrella stared at the little words, comprehension dawning like an icy curtain on her skin, her father grasped her arm and pulled her into the fireplace. And before she could fight back he was yelling, “Château Noir!” There was anger in his voice.
The flames glowed a brighter green, and Hogwarts was gone.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Cedrella deals with the fallout, until an unexpected visitor arrives.