Echoes of the Soul

Albus Dumbledore stood on nothingness, his frame surrounded by a bright, shining white aura, waves of magical energy pulsing off him and dispersing into the ether.

The two figures beside him gave off a similar glow, on bathed in golden light, the other deep purple, almost in shadow. The golden figure turned to Dumbledore and spoke on behalf of them both. Dumbledore dipped his head in concentration and thought a moment before speaking.

‘You are certain this is the only way?’ He asked gravely, his blue eyes steely beneath his wire framed spectacles.

Both of the figures nodded. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head a little.

‘Very well. I will do what I can. Pray it is enough’ He said and walked into the bright light before disappearing totally.

The golden figure turned to the shadow.

‘I will observe. Will you maintain?’

The shadow looked at the golden figure and closed his eyes, listening to a multitude of inner voices.

‘I will maintain. For now. We have little time.’

‘I trust the wizard. You will have to do the same.’ The golden figure looked at a point away in the distance, eyes unfocussed. ‘They are sleeping. It will begin.’

‘Until we meet…’ The shadow spoke slowly, then shimmered and vanished.

****


Hermione Granger awoke in her room and stretched. She looked over at the man beside her. He was snoring, sound asleep, most of the bedclothes wrapped tightly around his legs. Hermione shivered and tried to pull them over herself. The man grunted and lifted his leg a little as he turned to face her.

‘Morning,’ he grinned ‘ any chance of a cup of tea?’

Hermione looked at him and pursed her lips. ‘Honestly, Ron. You have a wand. Conjure your own!’

‘Yours always tastes better. Well, do you fancy a quick shag instead, then?’ He moved closer to her, lips puckered for a kiss.

Hermione gave him a quick peck and pushed him away, laughing.

‘No,I do not fancy a quick shag. Romance really is dead, it was killed by Ronald Weasley!’ Hermione giggled.

‘Never mind, then.’ Ron sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’d better get a move on anyway, I’ll be late. See you tomorrow night, will I?’

Hermione pulled the now loose covers around herself. ‘Tomorrow night.’ she nodded.

Ron dressed and gave Hermione a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before walking out of her house and apparating to the Ministry of Magic. He had an early meeting with his fellow Aurors and wanted to talk to Harry about a few things first.

Hermione allowed herself a sigh as he left. In the five years since leaving Hogwarts, she had Ron had seen each other on and off. Recently it was more off than on as she tried to extract herself from a relationship that wasn’t fulfilling her needs, on any level.

Ron was sweet and funny and very good company. But Hermione craved intelligent conversation, debate, creative thinking. And the sex was mundane, routine and more satisfying for him than her. Not that she had much to compare it to, she had only ever gone all of the way with Ron, but she just knew there was something missing. She couldn’t name it, but whatever ‘it’ was, Ron didn’t have it.

Hermione snuggled under the covers. It was her day off from her part-time her job in the Ministry Library, a fill-in post while she studied her Potions masters. She planned to study at home today but before that, she was going to catch up on some sleep. She closed her eyes and slowly nodded off.

*****

Albus sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled together. He was observing the movements of a small silver instrument, it’s spindles flexing and turning, a small ball bearing spinning in the centre as if suspended by an invisible force, which of course, it was.

One of the spindles tipped upwards suddenly and flew apart from it’s neighbour. The ball bearing fell from its suspended position with a clunk onto the desk. Albus sighed.

‘So soon.’ He murmured.

He lifted the instrument and placed it onto the shelf behind him. He looked at Fawkes and blue eyes met beady amber ones.

‘You know what to do, old friend.’ Albus said, his face set.

Fawkes tipped his head, blinked once in a show of understanding and began to sing a low melancholy tune.

Albus opened the Floo and waited for nature to takes its course.


******

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