The Loop

A sick and old looking Dumbledore was sitting in the living room of a large house. It was late at night and only a light from the nearby kitchen illuminated the large space.
“You’ll forgive me for calling on you so late Rhiannon?” Dumbledore asked in a quiet voice.
“It’s alright,” Rhiannon said, walking from the kitchen into the sitting room with two steaming cups of tea. “I’m sorry I can’t be more accommodating,” she continued in a low whisper. “The kids are still asleep and Jill has had an upper respiratory infection. I would really hate to wake them.” She was tall with a medium build. There was nothing special about her plain dark brown eyes, but her hair was a gorgeous shiny black that hung slightly past her shoulders and swished as she walked.
Despite her words, there was an annoyance in her voice. From Dumbledore’s condition, Harry could estimate this conversation had taken place sometime during his sixth year, when the tensions were running high as Voldemort gained power.
“What’s the news on The Order?” She asked as she handed Dumbledore a cup of tea and sat on a nearby chair.
“Not any real news, I’m afraid.”
Her face darkened.
“Nothing?” She asked plainly. “Nothing new?”
There was a silence. She already knew the answer. There was nothing new going on with The Order. Sirius was dead. Voldemort was back. Harry was in danger. Dumbledore was dying. Severus was spying.
“Allow me to explain why I am here at this late hour. I know we have not always seen eye to eye Rhiannon—“
She snorted, but regretted her rudeness. He dismissed it with a smile.
“You are in a unique position because of your past and your connections. Please don’t interrupt, I haven’t much time. Rhiannon, there are many decisions I make that I regret. Some are larger than others. I know you don’t agree with some of them. I can understand why you wouldn’t. Despite all that, I need you to realize that Harry needs you in a way that you don’t realize is significant right now.”
“My work for The Order has been horribly limited these past few months and you have largely kept me in the dark as to the goings-on of The Order and its many members. I fail to understand how I could possibly be useful now.”
“I need you to trust me and understand how important it is that I have secrets and Harry has secrets. You are angry and it makes you irrational in many ways, like your brother. It’s not a wholly terrible trait to have, but it led to his untimely death—“
“Severus is completely ruled by his emotions and it has proved to be his salvation,” she shrieked in a fierce whisper.
“We’re not talking about Severus or his “salvation”, Rhiannon. Please.” He set down his empty cup.
“Fine.”
“Rhiannon. You remember the last war. A lot of us lost loved ones. Some more than others. I won’t deny that this will happen again.”
“I know this. You don’t think I know this?” She was annoyed.
“I am giving you my pensieve. This is the task I am giving to you. Harry grew up without his parents. Severus’ story may never leave his lips. I need you to tell their stories. Help Harry understand the people he knew and those he never met. The past has a way of repeating itself. I would hate for their sacrifices to be made in vain.”
“People are dying. You want me to take my memories and put them in a bowl.”
“Yes”. He smiled serenely.
“I’m not useful in any other capacity. I put my memories in a bowl.”
“Yes. There will be a time when you’re needed more. Don’t belittle your work for us.”
“Okay.” She said grudgingly.
“I will need to take care of someone, when the time comes.”
“Draco?”
“Yes.”
“Not in this house. There are three children here, I’m not taking him in.”
“I will need you to care for him somewhere else then. Only for a short period of time. You can leave the children with Alejandro. Besides, Grady is 16. He’s almost of age.”
“Grady isn’t ‘almost of age’ to do anything. I lost everything during the first war. My best friend, my brother, my fiancé. Those children may not be biologically mine, but none of them are ever going to lose a friend, a limb, or their lives to this conflict, Dumbledore, I will see to that.” Her eyes flashed darkly. The thought of losing more people unhinged her.
“I will see to it as well.” He replied sincerely.
“When Draco needs me, I will be here.” She complied.
“Will you put your memories in a bowl?” Dumbledore asked, glad that the mood had slightly lifted.
“Sure.” They stared at each other intensely for a few moments. At first her face was expressionless, until it cracked a small smile.
“I can’t stay mad at men for long. It was my undoing at school. Want a scone?”
“Your forgiveness will be someone’s salvation, someday. Blueberry? They’re my favorite.”
“Cranberry. My favorite.”