(conclusion) Here There Be Dragons

Narcissa in her chiffon nightgown came halfway down the stairs and stood staring disbelievingly at the occupants of the parlour.

Dumbledore and that... creature, Septima Vector. They were looking up at her with mildly curious expressions.

Her heart pounding, Narcissa gazed at the reflection of her husband on the glass of the china cabinet in the dining room; Lucius in a stilted conversation with... was it Charlie Weasley? What had happened? Something had gone wrong, obviously.

"We have everything under control, Narcissa," said Dumbledore in a politely patient tone. "You may return to your room with peace of mind."

She stiffened. "How dare you! Ordering me around in my own house!"

"Narcissa," he repeated in a lower, sterner voice, "I insist."

She opened her mouth for a sharp retort, but thought better of it. In a huff she turned with a swirl of her gown and went back up to the second floor landing, where she strained her ears to hear what was being said, faint words on the air like the hum of bees.

Her anger subsided. 'Peace of mind,' Dumbledore had assured her. She rubbed her breastbone, her cheeks flushed. It was all right, then. Whatever had happened was not so serious as to involve her and Lucius in a troublesome legal matter.

Septima smiled sadly at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry that the Malfoy family photo didn't reach you sooner. I sent it just as soon as the drama in the Chamber began. Began in the miniature painting, I should say."

"It would have sped things along," he admitted, "but the vision I had from Fawkes told me clearly enough that the principals were at the Malfoy mansion; I assumed in a painting. Your message confirmed it. The problem was that the door to the Trophy storage room was charmed to prevent anything or anyone from breaching it, myself excepted. And so the photo you sent had to wait for Minerva and I to come out. But all's well that ends well."

"Are you forgetting Leon Vlaud? He's a splotch of fouled paint on the miniature!"

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Hardly evidence of his demise," he said. "He'll be reported missing. After all, his slayer was a portrait, and one that is now no more than a colorful design in Hellington's little picture. True, Lucius was an accomplice, and justice will not be denied. But it will be delayed. For the present, Lucius serves as an obstacle in the efforts to bring back Riddle. He and I are not yet on a collision course."

Septima was determined to press her point. "But, Albus, he wanted Harry Potter dead!"

She was shocked to see a strange dark gleam in the Headmaster's eyes, as though the death of Potter was as much his plan as it was Malfoy's. But she couldn't believe it. Surely she had misread that look.

Noting her surprise, Dumbledore went over to the window beside the tall oak door and looked out between the drapes at the lamplit veranda.

"Minerva has taken the students back to the castle with the portkey," he remarked. He turned back to Septima and asked, "Did you give the miniature to Severus?"

"I could hardly refuse him, under the circumstances," she said. "What is to become of Lily? Mrs Dursley is in the dining room drunk asleep at the table, and she'll want to know--" Septima stopped when Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet.

"I'll be having a talk with Mrs Dursley in the morning. I'm sending her home a day early."

"You're going to modify her memory?"

"Somewhat. Not as drastically as Harry's. She was, you know, hoping to find her sister in some way. I can't take that away from her. Not all of it."

In his private quarters Snape set the painting of the boudoir on the small square stand he had made for it. He stood waiting.

Not many minutes later Lily, in the blue smock, appeared. She was looking at the articles on her desk.

"My locket is gone," she said in a whisper.

"Your son has it," Snape told her.

She calmed her breathing before saying, "I was right, then. The boy was Harry.  And why did he take the locket if he thinks I murdered his father?"

"He doesn't think it. I lied to you."

She smiled a tearful smile at him. "I understand why you did. I don't approve. But I understand. He loves me then? He does love his mother?"

Snape looked away. "We may suppose so," he said.

"Where are you going?" she asked when he turned toward the doorway.

"I have papers to grade."

"This late? On a Saturday night? Are you tired of having vain hopes of loving a painted illusion?"

He looked back from the doorway. "You seemed so real," he said.

"I was, once. And I gave you an ultimatum, in our seventh year at Hogwarts. Me, or the Death Eaters. And you did not choose me."

"I thought... I thought you were just jealous of the time I spent with the other members. And to spite me you started seeing James Potter. To spite me."

Lily gazed down at her slippers. "Maybe that's true. But let's not argue. We've been through all that."

She watched him hesitate in the doorway.

"When you come back I won't be here," she said in a rush of emotion. "There's no holding me here anymore. I have Sanguino to thank for my freedom. I'm going. I've nowhere to go but I'm going nonetheless."

Snape stared at her stricken eyes for a moment. The eyes he had never forgotten.

"You are a memory," he said. "A memory... and your memory will always be here."

Vernon Dursley dropped his newspaper when he heard the key turning in the front door lock. He lurched to his feet, brushed his hair back and smoothed out his moustache.

Petunia came in, carrying her suitcase.

"Well, well now, welcome home!" he said, going over to her and giving her arms a squeeze. Out of habit they exchanged kisses on the cheek.

Vernon stepped back, beaming. "You've got all that off your chest now, have you? No more funny business, eh?"

She looked at him as if she didn't understand what he meant.

"Yes. Of course. It was nothing very much, really. You needn't act as though it meant something." And she went on into the living room, noticing how untidy things had become in her absence.

"I'll go out for fish and chips, if you like," Vernon said. "I'll get that shortcake you fancy, from Teddy's."

Petunia wasn't listening. She set her suitcase down and picked up the sheet of parchment that had been teetering on the edge of the wastebasket by the kitchen counter.

HOGWARTS School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

From the office of the Headmaster.

Pursuant to our new policy...

Petunia stared out the window. The peach tree was budding. Lily made the most delicious peach cobbler.

Petunia lowered the parchment. She let go of it.

It swirled like a leaf and settled itself on the crinkled papers that lay in the wastebasket, little things that no longer mattered.