E Pluribus Unum

A/N - Thanks as always to KAte and her glorious beta-ing, she is a beacon of light in my drab hum-drum world.

deblovesdragon - Severus is amazingly strong and a coa core powerful enough to stand against the Dark. he also has a lousy temper and a snarky disposition. But then, that\'s why we all love him, neh?

Kate - Miss Mangle is rapidly becoming one of my favorite characters to write. She is so strangely uncomplicated and yet intensely secretive.

Droxy - you will just have to wait and see, won\'t you.

Chapter 24 – Curses and Carols

They stood by the gravesite, watching as the earth slowly folded itself across the wound where Irma Pince’s coffin rested. The earth smoothed itself out at Albus’ behest and the snowfall began to erase the marks where the dirt had been churned by magic. Bare black branches scraped the sky, ravens squawked and the crowd of people gathered for the funeral shivered in more than just cold.

The staff and students of Hogwarts listened as Albus recited the ancient words that had sent a thousand years of wizards and witches to their rest.

“Spring turneth to winter turneth to spring again. The earth, which hast born us from darkness, receives us back unto darkness only to raise us once more into the light. Thou art granted thine moments to live and then returneth to thine divine Mother for thy rest. Rejoice, for the peaceful rest granted our sister, but grieve ye as well for she shall not be clad in the same raiment again.”

The words were ancient and comforting, as much by their repetition as in their content. So many funerals, Kathryn thought to herself, standing sadly by the gravesite. Severus stood on one side of her, Minerva stood on the other, and Orion was cradled in her arms fast asleep. She looked between them and felt their support and love as a tangible thing. The brisk Scotswoman and the dour Potions Master were as much her family now as the happy crowd at Lieu D’Asile.

They trudged away from the gravesite and, one by one, began to walk out of the Hogsmeade Cemetery and back through town to the school. The falling snow and quiet streets only accented the grimness of their march. The Yule decorations hanging from lampposts and decorating the houses and shops they passed seemed strangely out of place.

The Aurors had finally released Irma’s body only yesterday, their autopsy showing traces of dark magic. They had cast charms and bindings on her to be sure she would not rise, animated by the evil that had claimed her life. The much-delayed funeral finally closed the door on the life of Irma Pince. Kathryn tried to remember something pleasant about the woman, some moment of kindness to soften her memory of her, buty hay had known each other too short a time and been too distant in thought and action to hachiechieved much more than mere politeness.

“When I first came to teach here, Irma was a very different person.” Minerva, her voice thickened with sorrow, spoke with her brogue very much in evidence. “She welcomed me here and gave me help with my teaching materials when I needed it.” Minerva shook her head sadly. “The change in her was so gradual, I never really noticed it. She drifted away from me and I never saw it.”

“We none of us noticed, Minerva. We are all at fault for this.” Albus’ voice, old, tired, and filled with self-recrimination brought them to a halt as he caught up with them.

“I don’t think so, Albus.” Severus replied. “We are all responsible for our own souls and the choices we make. None of us pushed her to the Dark.”

“None of us held her back either.” Minerva retorted with a grimace. They finished the walk in silence and each was so busy examining their own soul that none of them saw the redheaded girl in Ravenclaw uniform walking beside Ron Weasley and whispering to him.

Allegra sipped her tea with a meditative air as Kathryn bounced Ryan on her knee. The parlor of the cottage was decorated for Yule. The overstuffed couch and wingchairs, the Queen Anne coffee table, the piecrust end tables and the green tartan curtains had come with the house, she knew. But the delicate knick-knacks, the portraits of Allegra’s family, the photographs, the lacework doilies, these were all Mrs. Ravagienne’s doing.

Her taste was understated and homey as befitted the cottage, the boughs of fir and holly that were draped over arc arch between the parlor and dining room, the dancing angels on the mantle and the tree decorated and shining in the corner with a Father Christmas circling it in his sledge made it seem as though they had lived here years, rather than less than a month.

“I always thought that wealth and privilege bought happiness, until my husband was arrested. Then my priorities took a beating.” Allegra laughed with a slightly bitter air. “It’s amazing how little importance a nice h has has when there is no one to share it with you.” Kathryn nodded in agreement.

“This cottage is lovely; you have made it such a warm place.” She set Ryan down and watched him thrash on the carpeting. He was four months old and not quite crawling yet. He would bounce back and forth on his hands and knees but the opposite limb coordination needed to propel him forward wasn’t there yet.

“I’ve done my best. Without a son to carry the entail, the girls and I are homeless. We always thought we had more time… time to have a son, time to spend together, time for all the things we never had time for.” Allegra’s face crumpled. Kathryn moved to sit beside her and gathered her up in her arms as she began to cry. “I loved him so much and he did this to us and I should hate him for it. But, Merlin, oh Merlin, I can’t, I just can’t” Kathryn rocked the other woman gently, soothing her with murmured nonsense words.

Ryan let out a high-pitched screech, practicing the sounds he could make and expressing his displeasure at being ignored. Allegra picked the baby up and cuddled him, snuffling and yet consoling him as well. Her mothering instincts had been triggered by his cry and the selflessness of her reaction made Kathryn smile. Underneath the pureblooded aristocrat was a good woman; one who would take patience and coaxing to bring out, but one Kathryn realized would be worth the time and effort.

“Don’t hate him, Allegra. He loved you and if he chose the wrong path that doesn’t mean he loved you less.”

“I have been talking to people -- the Aurors and others -- finding out what the Death Eaters did, Kathryn.” Allegra looked up at her clear-eyed from over the baby’s head. “They killed people, tortured, raped, burned and destroyed. Don’t tell me that he ’chose the wrong path.’ He was a murdering bastard and he deserved to go to Azkaban.” Her tone was low but intense and Kathryn shivered at the hate and fury in the slender dark-haired woman’s face. She was reminded that this small woman was related to the Snapes by the martial gleam in her eyes.

“You’re right. He was a murdering bastard and he did deserve to go to Azkaban. But that doesn’t change the fact that he loved you. It doesn’t change the fact that his last thought was for you and the girls.” Allegra looked at her, eyes gone wide and black.

“Our welfare should have occurred to him long before then.” Allegra replied and Kathryn merely nodded. After all, what could you say to such a simple truth?


Two hours later she was curled up on the couch in Severus’ parlor. Ryan was asleep on a blanket before the fire, tiny hands curled around his stuffed snake, and she was deeply engrossed in the first book she had read for leisure in months.

It was the latest in a series about the fictional Antigone Terrill, Auror Intrepidus. Tony, to her friends, was in yet another perilous situation trapped between a vampire and a cult of dark wizards. The plot was unlikely, the scholarship spotty and the prose far from sterling and closer to purple, but the heroine was always triumphant, good always won out and Tony was never dirty, stinking and filled with nightmares. In fact, Tony never had a hair out of place or was anything more than artfully mussed. Kathryn found the stories both amusing and comforting. They were a guilty pleasure that she had not indulged in for far too long.

She sometimes wished her life was as simple and her difficulties as easily resolved as that of the scarlet haired Antigone. She set the book down and stepped up to the mirror that hung on the wall. She studied the aristocratic nose and plain brown eyes with a feeling of gentle sorrow.

Allegra Ravagienne was a true beauty: perfect heart-shaped face, sparkling ebony eyes and waves of glorious raven’s wing hair. Next to her, Kathryn had felt like a drab wren. She was tired at times of being the intelligent, practical one. It would be nice to be the beautiful one.

She felt a stirring of alarm in her mind -- since when had she thought such a thing? She had always known she was no beauty, but it never really mattered before and less so since Severus had loved her and she had seen his eyes soften at the sight of her.

But wouldn’t he love her more if she were truly beautiful? No, ofrse rse not, her mind rebelled at the thought. He was surrounded by beautiful women and he still loved her. Didn’t he? She shivered, suddenly cold, and shook her head to clear it. Where were these doubts coming from that were clouding her mind?

Ryan squealed as he woke and Kathryn went to him immediately. Her son was awake and needed her. The thought came unbidden: Bellatrix’s son, not hers.

She was frozen by the cold horror of it, the alien thoughts wrapping themselves around her mind, prying at her confidence, trying to break her happiness. She knew what was happening but she didn’t understand how they had reached her so deep within the castle.

She held the baby against her, cradling him close to her and she began to sing as she rocked him. The song was ancient, taught to her when she was little and sung time and again throughout her life. It rolled out of her mouth and the darkness lifted from her mind.

She sat on the floor rocking the baby, shaking with reaction and wondering how to keep out creatures whose voices sounded like your own thoughts.