E Pluribus Unum

Chapter 54 – Dark before the Dawn

Kathryn pivoted and walked back in the other direction, amused as her student’s heads whipped around to follow her progress at the front of the class.

“When on Death Ground…?” She looked around the room and then her eye fell upon Neville.

“When on Death Ground, fight,” Neville replied.

“Correct, Mr. Longbottom. Can you tell me why Sun Tzu said that?” She watched as Neville frowned and then looked up at her in confusion.
“No, Ma’am,” he replied. Her eyes swept the class until she came to the one hand raised to answer.

“Hermione?” Her voice had some exasperation in it, since it was so often the brunette who waved her arm about. Someday the other children would be out in the world with no Hermione Granger to give them all the answers and Kathryn feared that they would be unprepared for that eventuality.

“Sun Tzu says that when on Death Ground, which is any place where you are trapped and at a disadvantage, you must fight because there is no other option.” Hermione’s sharp gaze never wavered from Kathryn’s face, despite what must be a nearly overwhelming temptation to look at Harry.

“Correct, Miss Granger.” Kathryn nodded at the girl and then continued her perambulations around the classroom.

“Professor?” Harry’s hand came up tentatively and she gestured him to continue. “Sun Tzu believed in preparation above all, in constant testing of one’s own defenses, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, that is correct,” she agreed.

“Klausewitz and Rommel say pretty much the same thing,” Harry continued.

“Yes, Mr. Potter.”

“Then why is Fudge not preparing? Surely he knows a war is inevitable?” There was a plaintive note in the boy’s voice and Kathryn sighed, understanding his feelings all too well.

“I very much doubt that Minister Fudge has read Sun Tzu.” She tried to keep her voice neutral, but no doubt some of her personal revulsion for the man was evident.

Draco raised his hand then and Kathryn nodded at him.

“Sun Tzu was a Muggle, wasn’t he?” Draco used his best pureblood drawl for that sentence and Kathryn mentally applauded his acting abilities. He sounded genuinely disdainful, even though Kathryn knew the ancient General personally fascinated him.

“There is some debate on that subject,” Kathryn replied with a placid smile. Draco raised an imperious eyebrow in enquiry.

“Some of the legends about him seem to indicate a Wizardly origin. The Oriental Wizards are an eccentric lot though, and quite mysterious. We may never know for sure.” Kathryn maintained a serene expression, as though Draco’s original pointed question was merely scholarly curiosity. Sometimes her tightrope walk was precarious indeed. Teaching Muggle military tactics as part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum was dodgy at best from a pureblood point of view. Hinting that the Muggles might be Wizards was an indirect way of evading any questions the reading material might convey.

After all, she knew full well Sun Tzu couldn’t be a Wizard, because he was a dragon.

It was some hours later, sitting in the library with Allegra poring over book orders, that Kathryn heard the voices.

“He hasn’t been around lately,” came a female voice, rather young and slightly squeaky.

“He was too ugly for her after all,” snickered a second voice, this one male and rather self-satisfied.

“She’s lucky to get any man, with her history.” That voice Kathryn knew: it was one of her sixth year Hufflepuff students, Rebecca Thompson. The slight lisp on the sibilants gave the girl away.

A quick glance at Allegra and Kathryn knew that Minuet’s mother had heard every word. Kathryn’s blood boiled, but she reined in her temper. The last time she had tried to correct a rumor it had landed her in Severus’ bed. Not a bad thing in the long run, but she liked to think that she had learned something from that.

Besides, as terrible as the comments were, they kept the truth concealed. It wouldn’t be prudent to reveal her relationship with Severus at this point, not to mention that it would probably gross out half the student body. Kathryn smothered a chuckle at that thought.

Allegra frowned at her and Kathryn shook her head.

“Sorry, my mind wandered off on a tangent,” she apologized. Allegra’s eyebrow went up in a very Severus-like manner and Kathryn was reminded once more that they were cousins.

“Can I ask what you were chuckling about?” The raven-haired librarian cocked her head in enquiry and Kathryn sighed.

“I was thinking about the foolishness of rumors and how we get all flustered over them,” Kathryn temporized. Allegra flushed, obviously still upset about the overheard conversation.

“Lies are always just the beginning of greater troubles.” It sounded like a quote, but not one Kathryn was familiar with. “First they will tell lies about me and then their parents will pressure the Regents into getting rid of me,” she murmured with a resigned air.

Kathryn was startled by the other woman’s attitude. She sounded as though she had already been fired, as though it was inevitable.

“Dumbledore will stick by you, you know that.”

“Like he stuck by Remus Lupin,” Allegra retorted with a bitter smile. “I very much doubt that the wife of a convicted Death Eater will get much sympathy around here.” The tone became one Kathryn was becoming far too familiar with.

“Snap out of it, Allegra!” Kathryn hissed. “You have good friends here who will stand up for you. Don’t despair, don’t let them win.” The last was said in a pleading tone and Allegra shook herself.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me there.” Allegra looked baffled by her own momentary self-pity, but Kathryn knew full well what had caused it. Somewhere Fenchurch was whispering and Kathryn would give anything to still that bitter tongue.

“You are a strong, powerful witch. You are smart, beautiful and wise. Hogwarts is lucky to have you here.” Kathryn poured all her sincerity in to her words, trying to weave a spell of hope with just her eyes and voice. Allegra straightened and nodded slowly, absorbing some of Kathryn’s confidence.

“You’re right. I have survived all that the world has thrown at me so far. I can survive this as well.” There was a new determination in Allegra’s eyes now and Kathryn relaxed. However powerful the Dark was, the Light was stronger still.

Let’s pray that it stays that way, Kathryn thought bleakly to herself.

The next week found her in the Headmaster’s chambers, taking tea and discussing strategies. She hadn’t realized that she had fallen silent until Albus cleared his throat.

“Kathryn, knut for your thoughts?” Albus peered at her over the rim of his spectacles, his eyes serious and gentle. She wondered sometimes how he had maintained his sweetness through all that he had endured. The firelight danced across the white beard and glittered in the blue eyes, and it picked out the golden threads in his robe and reflected from his spectacles. He looked at ease there in his gold wing chair with a cup of tea in one hand, but she could sense the underlying tension in him.

“This last week has been like nothing I have ever experienced, Albus,” she began tentatively. “For all the horrors that I have endured as an Agent, for all the times I have waited in alleys, combed through garbage, cast tracking spells, killed enemy agents and fought the dark dirty battles of intelligence, I have never been this afraid before.”

“For the children?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She was terrified for these children whose care had been entrusted to her, but whom she already knew were under threat of death. Even if she could save some, she knew that she would lose others and the knowledge of that, this sword of Damocles hanging over her, ate at her as nothing ever had before.

“I understand,” he replied and she knew that he did. He had stood before Grindelwald and faced him down, losing friends and schoolmates in the process.

“I actually care about them and it’s both a source of strength and a gaping hole in my armor,” she paused feeling ill at ease, but Albus’ eyes had no judgment in them so she continued. “I find myself at odd times resenting them, resenting the drain on my emotions, resenting the fear they rouse in me, resenting my own protective nature. I have moments, watching Harry and Minuet, heads together over a parchment in the dungeon, or watching Hermione chewing her quill to shreds as she read some obscure text, when I feel such affection that it nearly makes me cry and then five minutes later I feel irritable and angry, wishing they were somebody’s else’s problem.” She looked up at him expecting condemnation but he merely nodded at her in understanding.

“Many times I have wished to have this burden lifted from me. I wished to be someone else far away from all of this. I imagine Harry feels much the same.” He gave her a tiny smile as she winced at his words.

“Yes, I should stop whinging and think about how he feels,” she sighed but Albus shook his head in negation.

“No, you are perfectly sane and normal to feel this way. If you felt otherwise there would be something terribly wrong with you. I am merely pointing out that we are all in this together; we are not alone in our fear and uncertainty.” Kathryn nodded her understanding, feeling strangely comforted by his words.

She could feel the impending battle like a tide rising behind her and that the inevitable pain of loss, of small failures, even if they won, was waiting for her. However, she knew that they were together in this and however many of them survived this, they would have each other to lean on in the aftermath. They would not be alone.

Kathryn sat on the stool and watched Severus working. It was soothing to her to feel the metronome precision of his knife, vibrating through the boards of the table as she worked figures, quill grasped in ink stained fingers. As he chopped the Deadly Archangel flowers, she lost herself in the abstruse beauty of numbers.

Her long-term project – to map Voldemort’s mind through Arithmancy – had been constantly shunted aside by the press of events, but as her time ran out, Kathryn worked feverishly on it. Every spare moment was now devoted to her parchments, covered in the bold strokes of her equations, and her brow was developing a permanent frown line as she bent to her task.

Severus was working on ‘Holy Wrath,’ a strange poison he claimed was effective on Demons. She had watched him grind seven different varieties of seeds to powder and set them aside and now he was working through twelve different flowers, each chopped or sliced in particular manner and order. It was a subtle and complex brew that took up most of his concentration. They worked, each on their own project, separate and yet together for hours, while Orion dozed in the baby sling across her chest.

He had outgrown the original configuration and now his feet and hands poked out of it, his head tucked under her chin and his fingers enmeshed in her hair. He had pulled a tendril free of her bun and shoved one fistful into his mouth before he fell asleep. The scratching of her quill had been his lullaby and his breath against her cheek was a hypnotic rhythm that drove her work.

She had come a long way in her equations; she could feel the shape of it now and what she was sketching out frightened her. She could map out the disintegration of Voldemort’s sanity. She could trace the fractures in his mind, how each failure or success reinforced certain thoughts and beliefs that were increasingly divergent from the truth. She could see in black and white, ink on paper, that whatever restraint sanity had placed on Lord Voldemort was being eroded at an ever-increasing rate.

There wasn’t much time left before he had no grasp at all on reality. After that, anything could happen.

She was working through potential attack plans when the stillness around her invaded her thoughts. She raised her face from the equations and her mouth dropped open.

Severus stood before a glass jar carefully sealing it with a golden lid. Inside the jar were a thousand flecks of light suspended in an iridescent jelly. The whole jar glowed softly with a warmth and radiance that caught at the soul. Just looking at it gave her peace and joy.

Severus was watching it too, she noticed. His face had an odd expression, part wonder and part…something else.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed out into the stillness.

“I wasn’t sure that I could even brew it,” he admitted softly. She raised a brow in enquiry, but he shook his head.

“Severus, you are one of the finest Potions Masters of our generation if not our century. How could you doubt your abilities so?” She was confused by the flickering expressions that crossed his face.

“Holy Wrath isn’t merely about skill, Kathryn,” he admonished in his teacher’s voice. He concealed his emotions effectively with the mask he wore in the classroom.

“Pretend that I am not myself a Potions Master and explain it to me then, if you don’t mind.” Her tone was extremely dry and it brought a small smile to his lips.

“Holy Wrath is technically a proscribed potion, not because it is dark, but because it has the potential to take the life of the brewer.” Her mouth opened to voice a protest but he merely arched a brow at her and she subsided, biting her lip in distress. “There was no danger that I would die, Kathryn,” he assured her. “The real danger was that I would simply brew a sickly yellow goop.”

“I don’t understand Severus.” She doubted that her voice was very steady; the mere thought of him in danger was enough to give her palpitations.

“I am not truly evil, nor is my intent to do harm, either of which would have been enough to kill me.” He smirked at her now and it made her want to hit him for scaring her so badly. “What surprises me is that I was granted sufficient grace to brew it to perfection.”

“Grace?” it was an odd choice of words for the distinctly unspiritual man before her.

“According to the ancient texts, a Divinity or Angel must bless you before you can brew this potion correctly.” She blinked and then chuckled.

“I suppose that we should thank our resident Angel then, shouldn’t we.” He went still and seemed to turn the idea around in his head for a long moment.

“I think that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” he shrugged. “It’s possible the texts were incorrect.” Kathryn leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and gave him a long hard look.

“Or you could just admit to a little divine intervention,” she prodded.

“I think it’s time for bed.” He rose and glided from the room, stiff with dignity and Kathryn grinned at his back. She loved the man to distraction, but he was the most stubborn creature under God’s blue sky.

She turned back to the sparkling iridescence in the jar and gazed into its depths with wonderment on her face. If ever there was proof that good was in the world, it was there before her, distilled and captured in glass and gold.