Intermission: Snapshots
Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!
The format of this Intermission is somewhat unusual, but without it, I don’t think there’s a way to even hint at most of the characters’ fates. This isn’t meant to close all possibilities off completely and end the stories, of course, since so many people are still alive, but give a series of small glimpses.
Intermission: Snapshots
If there were a camera that could take pictures evocative of life amid the ruins and the flowers of Voldemort’s defeat, these are the kinds of pictures it might produce.
*
A photograph of a young woman, showing her pregnancy, entering a vault where two stone statues stand: a woman, and a child in her arms. When she speaks the proper words, golden and silver light races around the statue, and tears open stone to reveal the flesh beneath. The woman shakes her head, and shivers, and blonde hair spills free of its confinement. The girl in her arms clears her throat and says, “Millicent?” in blurred but understandable tones.
Millicent Bulstrode hugs her mother and her sister, and in silence and gladness welcomes them back into the world.
*
A series of photographs, showing Floo connections and stubborn faces, both of them framed by bright hair. Sometimes a third face comes and goes from the pictures-the face of a patient, long-suffering woman. Honoria Pemberley keeps her promise of trying to reconcile Cupressus Apollonis and his daughter.
It will take years, it will take many more photographs, to show the whole process. But if they did not want this to happen, Ignifer and Cupressus should never have allowed Honoria to pick up the camera.
*
An American wizard is visible in this picture, come to Britain to speak to the vates about the magical sea serpents that the Americans have kept fenced in several deep lakes, and what should be done about them. Yet he does not dominate the picture, nor does Harry Black, who has come ceremoniously out of Silver-Mirror to greet him. The ones who do are a tall blond wizard with eyes more gray than blue, and a younger wizard with eyes more blue than gray. They stand in the corner of the picture, and stare at each other as if locked in a duel of stares alone.
The photograph after that one would show the younger wizard moving to greet the ambassador from America before his father could. It would not be entirely clear whether Lucius Malfoy stepped aside of his own free will or was “convinced” to do so, but those who cared to could read their own answers in the slight bow of his head, and the fact that it would be directed at his son.
*
A photograph of two documents, made before they are sent to the Ministry. One is on thick, heavy parchment, burnished to a golden-cream color, and contains carefully penned phrase after carefully penned phrase. It is full of solemn promises from Harry Black to guard the Potter estates and vaults as if they were his own, to search for and train a suitable heir to them, and only to use the money from the vaults in pursuit of a comfortable life for the heir once he finds him or her.
The second document is much simpler: the form to tell the Ministry of a change of name. It simply says that, from now on, Harry James Black wishes to be known as Harry Polaris Black.
The line requesting a reason for the change says, in writing that looks as if it were done in haste, or by a hand trembling with embarrassment: Polaris is the guide star, the north star. I would be that for people if I can-a sign to lead them home, one they can follow if they wish to.
*
An oddly-shaped coffin dominates this picture, which shines in hues so rich it could be a painting. And why should it not be? The scene is a hillside vivid with flowers and with trees in blossom, a sheltered magical sanctuary where harsh winds never come and only time will take the flowers from the branches. The trees will bear apples. They curve in around the coffin as if sheltering it from the harsh gaze of the world, which will not understand.
The coffin is made of dark wood, as is traditional when burying one of the Bulstrode line, but very much larger than it needs to be to hold one body. It might, possibly, hold two bodies lying across each other-a man and a woman, say. As if a couple had gone down entwined in madness and bloody death, and it did not seem right to separate them in burial.
*
This comes from the Daily Prophet, and shows an old woman calm and gratified by her reception at the Ministry; readers will know that is so, because the article accompanying the picture proclaims it. She is, visibly, not human. Faint spots cover her body. She sports a tail. Green eyes stare back at the camera as Augusta Longbottom shows off her nonhuman heritage, as well as the fact that the Ministry is fully committed to protecting the rights of half-human wizards.
By her side, beaming, stands her grandson Neville, who seems considerably more excited than she does.
*
Brightness emanates from this picture. Its source might as easily be the young woman’s smile as the sheen of her long red hair. She stands with her older brother’s hand on his shoulder, and there is an expression of sturdy pride on his face. Ginny Weasley waves a document above her head, fast enough that it’s hard to see what the writing on it is.
In the second picture, she stands still and looks a bit sheepish, document unfolded before her so that others can read it. It states that the Ministry, based on a series of preliminary exams, intends to accept her into their new Auror program once she finishes a term at the rebuilt Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ron Weasley, behind her, looks as proud of her as ever, but also rather worn. That might be attributed to the long series of arguments with their family that undoubtedly preceded this picture.
*
This picture is dark, blurry, and difficult to see. Oddly enough, one must hold it up to moonlight to glimpse everything in it, and no one is likely to do that. Luckily, it rests in the possession of one who knows what to do with it, because he took it.
Properly illuminated, it shows the sliver of a moon just come in from the new, and dark, winged shapes in flight. The remnants of blue chains, perhaps, newly shattered, trail from their hooves. One does not need to have seen someone die, because the cutting of their chains and their web changed that about them. Free thestrals, the last remnants of the herd in the Forbidden Forest, they arch over the black landscape below and heard towards some destination unknown and unimaginable to humans. On the far side of the photograph, one can just make out the hindquarters of the flight’s leader passing through what looks like an open door.
*
How one views this picture would depend on how one feels about the headline that accompanies it. Cupressus Apollonis stands calmly on the steps of the Ministry, holding up what appears to be an ordinary Pensieve. That is all. That the image could be the subject of so much controversy seems astounding.
The headline, of course, explains matters. Rather than construct a prison of torment in the manner of Azkaban, or one of boredom and slow, creeping madness such as Tullianum was, the new Minister has chosen a different approach. Through the modification of a spell first invented by Draco Malfoy, criminals will share their victim’s pain at the crime-living through the horror of a rape, for example, or the pitiless fear of confronting a thief who threatens their children to make them hand over money. If the victim is dead, the spell will capture family members’ and friends’ emotions, and make the criminal understand exactly what he has taken from the world.
This punishment of empathy is to be repeated until the criminal fully comprehends what he has done, or repents-or, sometimes, both of those things. Prison awaits only those who will not repent, who are in danger of doing it again.
*
It might be best to show four of these photographs, though three would be sufficient to tell the story.
The first shows a pair of snakes nose-to-nose. One is much larger than the other, but the smaller one does not look intimidated. Indeed, since the larger one has the gently shimmering color of an Omen snake, and the smaller the gold-black scales of a Locusta, it could be said that size does not correspond to deadliness among this pair.
The second shows them curled on a bed together, carefully side-by-side but not far apart. Feeling each other out, as it were. Seeing how much space is necessary between them when they both wish to nap. The careful observer will note that the space is about as much as a human body would take up.
The third photograph is the liveliest. The Locusta lunges at a figure out of sight, beyond the border of the picture. The Omen snake has clamped his mouth down around his tail and holds tight. It is clear that, in a moment, the Locusta will snap taut and fall on the bed-and, probably, turn and strike from embarrassment or spite at the snake who prevented him from biting someone else.
The last in the series shows the snakes calmly tangled together on the bed, a smirking black skull on gold just barely visible over an expanse of scales like milk. Both heads are out of sight, submerged in the tumble of coils. It seems the dispute has resolved with not only no one being poisoned, but a new friendship occurring.
Beneath the photographs, tacked on a wall, someone has written a caption.
Never let it be said that Argutus can’t make friends with anyone he likes. Or that Yaraliss doesn’t admire bravery.
*
This scene would seem violent to anyone who does not know the story. Thomas Rhangnara brings down a book with careful force and excellent precision on the head of a young girl whom people might guess is his daughter, if they squint.
The next photograph is even more enigmatic. It consists of nothing but a scroll of difficult math problems, all of them with correct answers.
But the third photograph, which shows father and daughter dancing through the Black library and upsetting shelves, must show a wealth of happiness, even if the means by which they reached it is not quite visible.
*
It takes an inquiring mind to suspect much from this photograph, truly. And the kind of mind one has will determine what inference one makes beyond the mere inquiry.
Owen Rosier-Henlin has his mouth open, obviously giving an important speech; the photograph is from the Vox Populi, and probably bears some radical, angry article along with it. Next to him stands Faustine Nonpareil, carefully contriving to look as unimpressed as possible. She has her arms folded, and her gaze divided between the photographer-or audience-and Owen.
One might inquire whether she looks at Owen as if she would like to stab him, or as if she appreciates what he is doing.
*
This picture is a blur of movement, and it will take more than one look to sort out the participants. Both have golden hair, both move fast, and both have extended blades in their hands, rather than the more usual wands.
By staring closely, one might decide that both are women, and that one is younger than the other by virtue of her size, and that they are most probably related.
It is, in fact, a picture of Syrinx Gloryflower dueling Laura, and managing to surprise her older cousin more than once. She has begun the penultimate phase of a war witch’s training, and Laura admits, in the movement of her body and her blade, that Syrinx will be a formidable one.
*
The room is covered in spilled liquid-mostly silver, but with glimpses of purple and red mixed here and there. Crushed swan feathers litter the foreground, since the picture was taken, or might have been taken, by someone stretched full-length on the floor. Two women draw more attention than the swan feathers, however. One, with her head bowed and her long hair falling over her face, is anonymous. The other, kneeling in front of her with her hands on her shoulders, will be familiar to anyone who reads the Daily Prophet as Hawthorn Parkinson.
The next day, this photograph, or one very like it, will run under the byline of Rita Skeeter, and the headline of Lycanthropy Potion Cures Delilah Gloryflower.
*
As if in defiance of the fact that a lycanthropy cure exists in the world, the two werewolves run through the picture, at the head of a large and mingled pack. The full moon is just visible in faint shadows across their fur and a pale light that seems to shine from the ground beneath their paws more than the sky above them. Both move with the easy assurance of those bitten in childhood, those who have been werewolves for years.
One werewolf is large, gray, and male, with amber eyes; he becomes a human named Remus Lupin when the moon is not full, but more and more he accepts this form as part of his true self. The second, slightly smaller, is black, female, and has dark eyes; she will be Peregrine when the moon relents, and she is learning the virtues of cooperation between the London packs and with the wizarding world, now that the Ministry is paying attention and acting properly.
For now, though, there is the moon, and the run, and all the smells visible to a werewolf’s nose.
*
Probably, the subject of this photograph would not have wanted it to be taken. He would prefer to be caught in a happier moment, not now, as he is, crying and turning his face away.
From thinking of oneself as a sacrifice to leaping into power is a long distance. Peter Pettigrew did not know what to do with himself when the Wizengamot told him that, based on consultations with Hogwarts’s surviving students and those professors who wish to return to the school, they chose him to be Headmaster.
In time, in a few moments, he will be able to smile. But not now.
*
There are few photographs like this one, because word spread among the newspapers quickly: stay away from Harry Black’s foster father. Only Dionysus Hornblower, who is immune to fear, regularly sends his people to take pictures of Severus Snape now.
Snape strides along a rocky path, which the knowledgeable are aware leads to one of the hidden Black houses-sanctuary for the vates and those close to him when they don’t wish to deal with the press. His cloak billows behind him, and his face is set into a scowl. It doesn’t appear as though the acclaim lately fallen onto his shoulders, as people praise him for raising the vates and pushing through the trial that led to the ending of his birth parents’ influence over him and, ultimately, the revelation of Headmaster Dumbledore’s crimes, has changed him.
What changes Severus Snape moves far beneath the surface. Thus Dionysus Hornblower, along with a few select others, believes, and he is determined to capture one of the moments when the miracle happens.
Severus Snape is unchangeable. Thus most of the other reporters, even the daring and truth-committed Rita Skeeter, believe.
*
This photograph is not precious for its rarity. While Harry Black is still, often, shy of the camera, Draco Malfoy is quite ready to pose by himself, and answer questions, and-the clever are coming to realize this-mine information from the person talking to him with his own “innocent” assertions.
But this photograph is precious because it shows the Malfoy heir not smiling, or smirking, or wearing one of the serious expressions that come up when he discusses politics. Instead, he stands on a shore and looks at the waves with a solemn, unguarded expression, as if he wanted to know an answer they will never give him.
In his hand he holds a clutch of flowers-narcissus, and snapdragons. There are not many who know that he comes every week, quiet and alone, to place them on his brother-in-law’s grave.
*
Flames burst skyward, arching as if eager to escape from the darkness at their heart, their edges rippling and shedding shimmers of heat far into the air. Harry Black stands to one side of the pyre and watches it, face stern. When necessary, he adds more magic to the fire so it will burn hotter.
Thus, unmourned, thoroughly burned, the ashes willed to vanish and not to scatter, the last remnant of Voldemort passes out of the world.
*
Lazuli Yaxley, intertwined with shadows, kneels beside her daughter. They are digging in a garden, planting a rose together. Jacinth is laughing. Since the establishment of the new Ministry, and the visits she and her mother have made there a few times, without her father, she has known something like happiness.
The second photograph shows a banner draped around the rose, now a flourishing bush, the petals open and aided, probably, by the application of magic. The banner bears the symbol of the House of Yaxley: a thorn tree in front of a rising full moon. The letters beneath the symbol are small, almost unnoticeable against the colors of the banner and the living glory of the bush, but present: In memory of a sister beloved, and gone too soon.
*
Cupressus Apollonis is careful. One can indeed say that for him. He does not simply run tests for those who might become Aurors in the future, he does not simply snatch up talented newcomers who might prove to be what he needs, he seeks out and hires those who, involved in disputes with the Ministry, left in the last year before Minister Scrimgeour fell.
Thus, among the Aurors standing stiffly on the front steps of the Ministry in this official photograph are Nymphadora Tonks, who looks more than a little uncertain-
And Alastor Moody, who never looks uncertain about anything.
*
This is quite a large and beautiful room in the Ministry, with space for many wizards to stand. Doors along the walls lead to other rooms, made, from their dark wood and their vaguely furtive air, to hold secrets. A number of men and women stand beside the doors, gray hoods pulled back to reveal their faces.
In the center sits the Stone, currently projecting a dragon’s head. The head holds a placard in its mouth, proclaiming exultantly, I know what right and wrong are now!
*
Harry Black looks more than a little stiff and out of place in this picture. The other personages around him-the Ministers of France, Spain, and Portugal; Cupressus Apollonis; Evamaria Gansweider, the Minister of Austria-are far more used to ceremonies and official occasions and people being interested in what they have to say.
The banner above them proclaims, in five different languages, the creation of a new and smaller union of countries that will stand slightly apart from the International Confederation. In particular, the banner continues, this organization will investigate new models of wizard-Muggle interaction and coexistence, the ethical ramifications of using Obliviate on Muggles, and the creation of Ministries in which being beyond the influence of Lords and Ladies is the first concern.
It is notable as one of the few photographs, official or otherwise, in which Evamaria Gansweider is smiling.
*
This is a private photograph, not meant to be widely shared. Tybalt Starrise sits in silence, with a sober face, for once, above a diary. The diary documents the relationship between his mother Alba and her twin brother Augustus. He had not really known, before then, that his mother was his uncle’s anchor, and what happened to his sanity when she died.
His partner John stands beside him, gently touching his shoulder. Tybalt’s cousin Portia, currently being reared as the heir to the Starrise properties, stands next to him, barely tall enough to put her chin over the table, and pats his hand.
The photograph is put in a private book, and beneath the picture is written, To be looked at when I think I know everything about a person.
*
Calibrid Opalline and her father face each other across an expanse of stone which is the threshold to their home made of a dragon skeleton, Gollrish Y Thie. Calibrid’s arm rests across her stomach, and she looks as stubborn as a mule. Paton has one hand over his eyes.
It appears that his daughter is pregnant, and will not tell him who the father of her child is. This is not a great problem, save that Paton wishes to welcome the father into the Opalline clan, and Calibrid is making it impossible.
But then, his daughter has made his life difficult in many ways since her birth more than twenty years ago.
Not far from both of them is a chair, not fully included in the picture, from which a leg projects. The leg might, with a little squinting, be perceived to have the black ridges that are a sign of dragonfire burning. Though it took long recovery in the Sanctuary, Doncan Opalline has returned to his home, and his appointed task of guarding his sister, at last.
*
This photograph is the most blurred and uncertain of them all-just a glimpse of turning face, fluttering hair, shut eyes. The focus of the picture is a woman and her child posed proudly in front of Madam Malkin’s, where the child has gone to be fitted for her first formal robe, but someone has cut them out and focused on this turning figure instead.
The figure resembles, in certain respects, Fiona Mallory, the former Auror who tortured the Potters, and then was locked into a coma by Lucius Malfoy, released by Unspeakables, and sent Merlin-knows-where.
Despite hunts made by the person who now holds the photograph, Harry Black, no other trace of her has been uncovered.
*
Parvati leans against her parents, who both stand with an arm around her shoulders. Beside her is Padma, holding her hand with a grip that says the world can try to tear her twin sister away from her, but this would not be very smart of the world.
There are signs that the drifting shadows across Parvati’s eyes, though they will always be present in some capacity, are beginning to melt into peace.
*
Hermione Granger and Miriam Smith stand facing each other across a table scattered with parchment. Hermione’s face is flushed, but her chin high. She wears the silver knot of the Black jewelry Harry once lent her at her neck. Her expression is stubborn, saying she will not back down.
On the surface, Miriam’s face conveys only irritation with how ill-bred the girl in front of her is. But there may be-under the surface-a hint of buried admiration and amused respect.
Possibly. If one searches.
*
Harry Black lies on his stomach, eyes closed, head flung to the side so that the picture-taker can see his profile. His hair is still as messy as ever, and not helped by the energetic activities he’s just been fallen out of. His skin still holds a slight sheen of sweat. His hand curls around the edge of the pillow. He looks as if he were engaged with sleep, battling or wrestling with it. On the appropriate finger of his right hand, as always, rests the silver ring that Draco gave him as a present for their first joining ritual.
But perhaps, here, the camera should be put aside, and the photograph permitted not to exist. Some moments should be remembered, not recorded.