Til The End

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

`Til The End

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

"Gumdrop," Minerva McGonagall muttered to the gargoyle by Dumbledore´s office. The stone creature moved over and let her pass into the office.

Several faculty members were already there, and she sat down stiffly next to Sorrel Sprout. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, and waited for all of the teachers to arrive. Finally, after everyone had walked into the circular office and taken a seat, Dumbledore cleared his throat to start the weekly staff meeting.

"Good evening, all. I hope that everyone is well?"

A random assortment of polite affirmative responses greeted this inquiry. Professor Sinistra made a rather discontented noise, and Dumbledore picked up on it immediately.

"Celesta, is there something the matter?"

The Astronomy Professor gave a slight shrug, "I´m just rather concerned about one of my students. He has not been showing up in class much as of late, and according to his housemates, spends his evenings cooped up in his dormitory. Please tell me, is there something wrong with him?"

Albus Dumbledore gave her a rather probing look, "I assume that you refer to Anthony Weston, fourth year Slytherin?"

Celesta Sinistra gave a slight nod, and the Headmaster sighed, "Severus, has he spoken to you or anyone else yet?"

The Potions master shook his head solemnly. "He avoids me. But then... I was friends with his father, and he knows it."

Several of the other teachers looked confused, and Celesta Sinistra spoke up, "Well, I´m just worried about him. I´m sure that his father would not want him to fail Astronomy and ruin his chances of making Prefect next year, but the way that it has been, I don´t know what I can do about it. And Severus, Albus... what is this about being friends with his father, and what does it have to do with anything?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed again, and opened the cupboard in which his pensieve lay. He tapped it with his wand, and a blurry, broad-shouldered form emerged from the silvery depths, to come into focus a moment later.

Madam Hooch, sitting next to Fleur Delacour-Weasley, widened her eyes, "Carl Warrington?!"

"Shh, just watch," the Headmaster replied.

The teachers watched as an apparition of Dumbledore greeted Warrington, who was garbed in Falmouth Falcons robes and had a grim expression on his face.

"Mr. Warrington, this is an unexpected pleasure. Please, sit down."

The apparition of Warrington shook his head, "I´m not here for a social call", he said bluntly.

The apparition of Dumbledore nodded, and gestured for him to continue. Warrington fished in his pocket, and extracted a roll of parchment and a quill. "This is something that might be of interest to you," he spoke in the same toneless voice, "You, being the person that you are, must know Charisse Weston."

"Yes, of course, she was Head Girl with you, Ravenclaw. One of the best Potions students we´d ever had, like yourself."

"She´s dead."

Albus´ apparition gaped in shock, "W-what?" Warrington made an impatient noise.

"Look, I know what she was. She was a Death Eater. And a spy for you and the Aurors and those Chinese Mages. She´s dead. She´s been discovered. They slaughtered her. Need I say more?"

"Yes... you do," Albus replied softly, "You must tell me how you know this."

"Oh, of course..." Warrington said in a voice laced with bitter sarcasm, "How COULD I forget? How DO you think I know?"

"Well...usually, normal people are not privy to this type of information," Albus started. Warrington gave another impatient snort.

"If you´re suggesting that I´m a Death Eater, the answer is no." Warrington dropped the sheet of parchment casually on Dumbledore´s desk, and rolled up his sleeves. "Look. No tattoo. Well, not there anyway..." he jibed.

"Then..."

"I´m friends with Hector bloody Nott. You know, he was Keeper on the Slytherin team. Son of Claudius Nott. I´m sure you remember him. I´m friends with him. He told me. He was kind of THERE when it took place."

"And... he told you? And you´re telling me? You must understand if I find this a little bit curious. Especially if you say that you two are friends."

Warrington rolled his eyes and slid the sheet of parchment that he´d dropped on Dumbledore´s desk forward. "This was written with an exact-quotes quill. If you read it, you will understand why I´m doing this. Afterwards, you may do whatever the hell you wish with the information; I don´t particularly care."

Dumbledore unrolled the sheet of parchment and read it over quickly. He remained silent for a few moments, then looked at Warrington, whose expression was unreadable. "Thank you, Mr. Warrington. This was a very noble thing for you to do."

"Forget that, I don´t need your praise." Warrington brushed it off. "I just want one thing in exchange."

"And what would that be?"

"Weston´s Head Girl Badge." Warrington said bluntly, "Give it here."

Albus Dumbledore gave him another piercing look, but the former Slytherin´s expression was entirely unreadable. Finally, silently, the Headmaster pointed his wand at a rosewood cupboard in the corner of the room, and the door opened. A silver badge, shining like a star in the dim room, floated out. Warrington caught it securely in one hand, and turned on his heel, making his way towards the door of the office.

At the door, he turned back to look at the Headmaster for a brief moment. "Oh, and you never saw me."

With that, Warrington disappeared, and the pensieve settled.

Albus Dumbledore extracted the sheet of parchment from his desk, and pointed his wand at it. Nott´s drunken, gleeful voice floated out, "We Summoned her. The Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse upon her. She was a virgin when she arrived, but after I was done with her... The Dark Lord, my father, her father, Lucius Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Erasmus and Nigel Parkinson, Demetrius Avery and Xavier Bulstrode all watched. The Dark Lord cast the curse on her three times. Then stopped and asked if she would beg for mercy. She didn´t, said she´d rather die. He cast the Killing Curse. We Disapparated."

Dead silence. Albus Dumbledore continued, "Anthony Weston has lost his sister in a most brutal fashion, and when he returns home, he will return to a father who was there, coldly watching on, as said sister was tortured and killed. He probably has a lot to sort out, and likely will not know how exactly to deal with his father when he goes back home."

And at that moment, the fireplace in his office suddenly flared into life, and Roger Davies´ careworn face appeared in the flames. "Sorry, Headmaster, professors, for my interruption. But Anthony Weston will not be going home to his father."

Dead silence greeted this statement and appearance. Finally, Professor Dumbledore spoke up.

"Mr. Davies, exactly what do you mean?"

Roger stepped forward through the fireplace, dusted himself off, and glanced at every surprised face in turn. Professor Flitwick, his old Head of House was clutching the handles of the chair that he was standing on, his eyes wide with incredulity. Fleur, her face rather softer and older than he´d remembered, her formerly long, luscious blonde mane now cut to a practical bob, stared at him, her mouth open in astonishment, her eyes filled with sympathy. The faces of the other teachers all registered shock, except for one. Severus Snape simply met Roger´s gaze with steadfast, impassive one of his own, one that showed resignation and expectance.

Once more, Dumbledore spoke up, addressing Roger in a quiet voice, "I take it that you captured Mordred Weston, then."

Roger nodded somberly, "We had a cooperation with the Mage troop stationed here. The Mage leader, along with ten others from that group, along with myself and a group of other Aurors, went on a raid tonight. Hector Nott was killed in the fray, when he was about to cast the Killing Curse on the Mage leader. The others have been apprehended. It is likely that they will be given to the Dementors. All in all, I believe that, by Christmastime, Anthony Weston will no longer have a father."

Roger finished his explanation and gazed at the teachers with a hint of trepidation on his otherwise expressionless face. Finally, Severus Snape spoke up once more, his voice resigned, "I´ll inform him. I don´t know just how he is going to take it... but... it´s my duty as head of Slytherin house. And... we shall have to see what to do with him this summer. Mordred Weston probably left him quite sufficient funds, but he has no guardian."

Minerva McGonagall frowned slightly, "And... any relatives?"

Severus Snape sighed, "He has an uncle on his mother´s side. But... not exactly an improvement upon his father, if you catch my drift."

Filius Flitwick´s eyes widened in dawning recognition, "Demetrius Avery. They were cousins of the same year in school."

Snape nodded grimly, "Of course... I will have to offer the young Mr. Weston that choice, but..."

Fleur suddenly jumped to her feet, a look of indignation on her beautiful face, "But... ze poor boy... `e is vairy intelligent! `E can be more zan zat, surely! Letting `im live wis a decent family might actually allow `im to reconsider all ze trash zat `e `ad been taught! But sending `im to live wis zat Deas Eater... zat is just dooming `im, non?"

Snape scowled at her, "Do you think that I do not know this? But what else is there to do? He has no other living relatives! He might have inherited his father´s money, but he´s too young to be without a guardian. Sometimes, sacrifices will have to be made."

Now, Fleur matched his glare with one of her own. "´E would be better off wisout a guardian zan wis a guardian like Demetrius Avery," she maintained firmly.

"Well, what can we do about it? Are you going to adopt him?" Snape sneered.

Fleur suddenly stilled in her seat, and then, turned to the Potions Master with a determined look on her face, her chin jutting out, her eyes blazing with powerful conviction, "If I can, I will by all means."

Needless to say, the staff meeting ended in utter confusion. Albus Dumbledore dismissed the faculty as calmly as he could, only telling Severus Snape, Fleur and Roger to stay behind. The Headmaster turned to Fleur, a curious look in the kind old eyes behind the golden spectacles. "Fleur... you... you seriously want to adopt Anthony Weston? What about your daughter, and young Gabrielle? What will Bill say?"

The part-veela gave a smile, "I´m sure zat Bill will not mind; `e `imself came from a large family, non? Besides, `e... well... it´s razzer `ard to explain..." she took a deep breath, "Veela can sense some sings zat per´aps might not be apparent to ozers. And... I really don´t sink zat ze boy, zough `e came from zat family, is as bad as `e might let us believe. Besides..." and here she grinned, "Wisin sree mons of living wis Gabrielle and I, I quite believe zat we can make a gentleman out of `im."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, and gave the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor a small smile, "Well, if this is what you want... Severus, when you go and inform young Anthony, make sure to tell him of Fleur´s offer."

The Head of Slytherin House nodded, and swept off, black robes billowing behind him. Dumbledore turned back to the other two, "Roger, it is quite late, and you´ve already gone through enough tonight. I think that it would be best if you stayed here for tonight, and perhaps even tomorrow, to take a rest." The old man´s voice was gentle, but booked no argument. "Fleur, perhaps you could show him to some quarters in the faculty wing."

"Yes, Professor Dumbly-dorr," Fleur turned to Roger, and gave him a small smile, a smile that, perhaps five years ago, might have made him melt into a puddle of incoherent goo. But... no more. She was married and he... he had changed. Everything had changed. He was a man now, and beauty, for him, had a different meaning than blonde hair and perfect features. "Follow me."

Roger followed her down the corridor and up one flight of stairs. Several portraits lining the walls beamed when they saw him, one remarking that he needed to cut his hair. Fleur gave a light chuckle, "So, `ow `ave you been? It `as been years since we `ad last seen each ozer."

Roger shrugged, "I´m an Auror. It´s a hard job, but..." he broke off. Fleur cocked her head to the side slightly, and waited for him to continue. "Well, I hadn´t really planned to become an Auror. I was just going to work at the Ministry in the Department of Developmental Charms, or possibly go into professional Quidditch... but... you remember, what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament."

Fleur nodded, "Yes. Zat poor `Ufflepuff boy was keeled by ze Dark Lord. I remember... Cho, zat pretty petite fille chinoise; she `ad been devastated."

Roger nodded, "Cho. Yes, she had been devastated." His eyes took on a faraway look as he recalled his Seeker, her sweet, forlorn face like that of a lost child, big, glimmering brown eyes brimming with tears as she had sat at the Parting Feast, leaning slightly on Sarah Fawcett´s shoulder. The memory made him flinch involuntarily. Cho... Cho Chang, who used to sneak behind him when he was studying into the wee small hours of the morning and ruffle his hair, admonishing him in that sweet-stern way of hers to go to bed, they had Quidditch practice the next day. She had looked like that after Charisse´s death too. Well... after she had returned to consciousness. Pulling his mind away from the memories, he looked back at Fleur, "She was my Seeker. And the best ruddy Seeker we´d ever had. And more... she was my friend. You know, she never cried even when she´d been battered in a Quidditch game, arm broken and knocked from her broom. It was frankly scary to see her cry... Well, here we are today. We´ve all grown up, I think."

Fleur nodded, and then, she stopped at a portrait of a lady sitting underneath a weeping willow. "Queen of `Earts," she spoke, and the portrait opened up to reveal a medium-sized, beautifully furnished parlor done in opulent burgundy and bronze, in a stately, almost oriental style, with several beautifully carved teak tables and bureaus. She turned back to Roger, "Zis is one of ze guest quarters. Zere is a bedroom, and a washroom as well in ze back." She pointed her wand into the room, "Incendio." A fireplace flared to life, and several lamps turned on, casting a bright but muted light upon the room. "Well, good night, Roger."

"Good night." He coolly shook the hand that she held out, and walked into the room, gently closing the portrait behind him.

* * *

The following afternoon, there was a rather unusual minor disturbance in Ravenclaw Tower. Una Markham was methodically finishing up a Charms essay by the fire when fifth-year Prefect Orla Quirke rushed in, her eyes wide and awed, her face flushed slightly. Una raised an eyebrow. "Say, Orla, why do you look like you´ve just won the lottery?"

"Won the lottery?"

Una shrugged, "Never mind. Muggle thing. But... what has happened?"

The Prefect plopped down on one of the blue velvet couches. "I just came from tutoring sessions for Defense with Professor Weasley."

"Yes... so? You always go for tutoring sessions. No reason to get overexcited."

The older girl gave Una a slightly patronizing look, "This time it was different. Do you know..." the girl lowered her voice to a thrilling whisper, "We have a real AUROR here at this school right now!"

"Oh?"

Orla gave the younger girl a look of disbelief, "A real Auror! And he´s such a good one too! He´s a hero!!"

Una gave a light shrug, "So? Harry Potter used to go to this school. He was the Boy Who Lived. He´s training to be an Auror now, too. No big deal, really. Why, I played against him and his team in Quidditch."

"You and your Quidditch..." Orla gave a half-dramatic, half-indulgent sigh, "This one is different. He´s a RAVENCLAW. And he used to be Quidditch captain before Cho. Even you should appreciate that."

"Oh, it´s him. Roger Davies," Una said nonchalantly, watching in not a little amusement as Orla´s face took on a look of idolatry and awe. "What´s he doing here? And how d´you know he´s here?"

Orla smiled rather smugly, "I just saw him. He was leaving, and he had to give some papers to Professor Weasley. He looked so... so imposing! And... I overheard why he´s here... he´s really such a hero..."

Una rolled her eyes very slightly to herself, "Yes, yes. I´m sure he is. A great lot of Aurors are heroes. But why was he here? Isn´t he supposed to be working or something of the sort?"

Orla made a rather impatient little noise, "He was. He just went on a raid last night. The poor man came to report something to Dumbledore. Two Death Eaters were captured, and one of them was the father of a student. A student in your year, no less!" Now Una´s interest was peaked, and she leaned forward slightly.

"Really? Who?"

Orla glanced around, and making sure that no one was listening, whispered, "Anthony Weston. His father was a Death Eater, and his sister had joined them, but as a spy. She got found out and killed, and somehow, news leaked out on who had been responsible for the killing. The Ministry authorized a raid, and they caught Mr. Weston and two other Death Eaters. One of the Death Eaters got killed, and the others are in Azkaban, they´re going to get the Dementor´s kiss. Anthony´s going to be totally orphaned by Christmastime, and Professor Weasley offered to adopt him. Because... well," and here, the Prefect gave a little sniff, "the only other people who might take him are Death Eaters as well."

Una´s eyes widened, "And...?"

"Snape told Anthony, it seems, and I guess that he was all right with it. Anyway, Mr. Davies had gone back to the Ministry to get the necessary papers, and he was just giving them to Professor Weasley. He even spoke to me! Smiled and told me to keep up the good work! He knew my name and everything! He´s such a nice Auror... and so brave..."

As the usually-serious Orla went into a worshipful panegyric about Aurors in general and one individual Auror in particular, Una sat back down in front of fire, but her Charms essay was forgotten.

Mordred Weston, Death Eater, captured. Charisse... murdered. Anthony Weston had been avoiding everyone and everything for the past month. No wonder, now. Hmph! Just like a Slytherin, too! A snake burying itself underground when the world gets harsh. Frozen.

But human snakes... must be a miserable existence.

Someone... anyone...needed to shake some sense into that boy. Preferably as soon as possible.

She would have a talk with Professor Sinistra tonight.

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

REVIEW!!!!