* * *

            ELARA, FOR THE FIRST TIME, GOT A DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP. she felt almost at peace with the world, others, and herself. in the beginning, she had doubts that training would cease her seemingly never-ending anger, but she felt happy. in addition to her new elation, elara felt powerful. she almost had complete control over fire, she had learned dozens of new spells, could brew difficult potions, and most importantly, she almost had gotten over her fear of heights.

            she felt prepared. over everything, she felt that if voldemort were to attack her right now, she could successfully take him down without breaking a sweat.

            elara pushed herself out of bed. she was happy. no bad dreams, no waking up periodically through the night, just a solid eight hours of sleep. even though the world around her seemed to be crumbling at a super alarming rate, she was happy with herself for the first time in a long time. 

            she barreled down the stairs to find the house empty. anya must not be up yet. elara always wondered why millennia old human forces of magic need to sleep or even partake in the usual human functions, but she concluded that it was probably much to difficult for her to even try to understand. 

            elara found some leftover omelets in the fridge. she sat at the table and began eating until anya came down the rickety old staircase fifteen minutes later. she looked off. she seemed distressed. anya was never distressed. she was always calm, even when elara was bitching about doing something.

            "anya. . . . are you all right?" said elara slowly, wondering if anya had lost it somehow.

            anya took a deep breath and massaged her forehead.

            "there's something wrong. i can feel it."

            "with you?"

            "no, with the universe," said anya rather weakly, as if the life had been taken from her.

            "what — "

            "there's an imbalance. it's tipping. things are happening, elara, and they're happening fast. it's your time — "

            "great," said elara sarcastically, "more riddles."

            "listen," said anya desperately, "the dark one is acting. i see fear, i panic, i see uncertainty. you have to help them see. help them see what's happening. you must find the anima exercituum. one has already been found. you must act now — "

            as soon as anya's fit started, it ended. it seemed like a veil passed over her. she seemed fine. she seemed normal (as normal as millennia old forces of magic can be). it was unnerving to elara. anya was never the one to freak out. what she saw must have been disturbing.

            anya took the last omelet out of the refrigerator and sat adjacent to elara, eating normally. elara swallowed her bite and set her fork down.

            "hey, anya. . . ."

            "yes?"

            "er — what do, um, what does 'the anima exercituum' mean?" asked elara in the most innocent way possible.

            "it translates to english as 'the soul hosts'. why do you ask?"

            "no reason," said elara quickly, continuing to eat the eggs.

            elara didn't bring up the weird interaction the rest of the day. it wasn't hard, as anya had decided that elara was ready and that she could as she pleased on her last day before only coming back in dreams. she decided she wanted to wander around the hillsides. 

            for going off to war in less than four hours, elara thought wandering around seemed normal. she even decided to pack a basket of food like she was in one of those disney movies nymphie was obsessed with.

            she felt content, which was something rare for elara. she'd been happy, but it was never quite filling. she savored the feeling of the sun in her face, the breeze gently winding through her hair, and the tall grass brushing her tanned legs.

            even in the midst of all this war, everything felt right in that moment.

            it came near time dumbledore and harry were supposed to arrive. elara turned around on her path in the forest and began heading back to anya's tiny cottage. elara realized that even though she whined about coming here, she really loved the place. it was like this warm little bubble that kept her safe from the world except that bubble is owned by a intimidating women who reminded her of the world's end every five minutes. it was still somewhat peaceful, though.

            elara would have normally changed back into her normal ensemble of dirty combat boots (yes, even in summer), shorts and a tee, except she really loved the sundress she had on currently. deciding she wanted to be unnaturally soft a little while more, elara decided to keep the sundress and combat boots.

            after an ungodly amount of caffeine and silent judgement from anya, dumbledore and harry arrived. anya had been out in the garden and elara was inside trying to perfect her iced coffee recipe. there was a soft, gentle disturbance in the air. elara almost didn't notice it at first until she peered out the window and saw two figures slowly growing larger.

            conflicted with whether she wanted to have her disney 'run into harry's arms moment so she can brag about it to nymphie and check another thing off on the disney-fied lives list' or to finish her iced coffee, elara grabbed four more iced cubes, dropped them in the already condensated jar, and ran out the house.

            "i was just about to tell you," began anya as elara zoomed passed in a weird manner as she was holding iced coffee in one hand, "but i think you got it."

            elara tried waving to let anya know she heard, but she ended up doing some weird twisty thing with her arm and spilling iced coffee everywhere. exasperated and somewhat disappointed, elara dropped the jar onto the grassy hillside and continued jogging until she reached harry.

            no words were said. all elara knew was that harry felt warm and familiar. he felt safe. she clung to his shirt, buried her face in the warm curve of his neck, and never wanted to let go. it felt as if energy was being restored to her. she no longer felt that ever-nagging tiredness in the pit of her stomach.

            "i'll go speak to anya," said dumbledore amusedly.

            as soon as they heard his footsteps fade away, they pulled apart. nothing was said for a short while, until elara couldn't keep it in.

            "i missed you so much," said elara breathlessly, as if she had just finished running a 5k.

            "i missed you too — "

            "you geek ass nerd."

            harry smiled more widely. 

            "i thought something might have been wrong, you were being sappy," said harry slyly.

            "i drank six cups of coffee, i'm ready to go."

            harry continued smiling.

            "you're creeping me out — "

            "i just love you."

            something panged elara's heartstrings. she didn't know if it was guilt, joy, or the six cups of coffee, but it was something.

            "shit. i love you too."

            they stood smiling at each other. elara wanted to slap herself. she still thought it humiliating she was willing to give up everything for some boy. then, she remembered it was literally written in the stars that they would love one another recklessly. but she still thought it was a tiny bit weird.

            "its been hell not knowing if you were okay," said harry suddenly.

            "of course i was okay," said elara, "you'd've heard if i wasn't."

            "i know," said harry, kicking at the ground, "i couldn't help it, though."

            elara smiled. she didn't quite understand it, but knowing harry worried and cared about her wellbeing made her feel bubbly. she stood on her toes and pressed a kiss onto harry's lips.

            "what was that for?" said harry after she pulled away.

            "just kiss me, you idiot."

            maybe in that moment, on the grassy hillside under the shining sun, everything was okay. and maybe it would stay that way. 

            elara wasn't aware of how much time had passed — whether three minutes or thirty minutes, she was content and wrapped up in the exhilarating feeling of her heart pounding violently in her chest. no many how many times they kiss, the feeling never fades.

            harry's thumb ran absentmindedly over her cheek. it came in contact with a small burn from when elara was still new at controlling fire. elara jerked at the contact and harry froze.

            "you're hurt?"

            "no — "

            in the blink of an eye, both of harry's hands were on elara's face as he examined the burn wound and looked for any others.

            "it was an accident, it was my fault anyways," protested elara, trying to pry his hands away from her face.

            "you burned yourself? how?" said harry, rather worriedly.

            "er — i haven't told you. . . ." said elara sheepishly, deciding now would be as good a time as any to reveal some of the contents of her prophecy.

            "told me what?" said harry, letting go of elara's face.

            "so, you know how i refused to tell you what was in my prophecy?"

            "yeah. . . .?"

            elara took a deep breath.

            "okay, so basically i'm a seer because of this prophecy. i'm supposed to be your protector and i'm supposed to save the magical world. to help me do this, the ancients granted me extra power even though its pretty limited. also, the fact that i'm a metamorphogus plays into this as well. apparently, it was written in the stars or something that we would find our way to each other, so there's that. oh, and, my patronus is a doe now."

            harry blinked before reacting.

            "wait, what? your patronus is a doe?"

            "out of all that," sighed elara, "you only got that my patronus changed?"

            "your patronus is a doe?" 

            elara sighed again.

            "yes."

            "does that mean — ?"

            "yep."

            "so that would explain why — ?"

            "yes."

            "wait, what about — ?"

            "no more questions!"

            when elara had said her goodbyes to anya and gotten all her stuff packed and ready, she, harry, and dumbledore hiked back out to the hillside.

            "elara, you have done this before," said dumbledore, "but harry, you have not, so you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. my left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment. elara, grab onto harry."

            elara gripped harry's forearm.

            "very good," said dumbledore. "well, here we go."

            elara felt harry's arm twist away from her and redoubled her grip; the next thing she knew, she was going through the same terrible thing she had went through a months before. her eyeballs were being forced back into her head, it was difficult to breathe —

            she gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened her streaming eyes. she felt as though she had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. she, harry, and dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches.

            "are you all right, harry?" asked dumbledore, looking down at him solicitously. "the sensation does take some getting used to."

            "i'm fine," said harry, rubbing his ears. "but i think i might prefer brooms. . . ."

            "elara, do you need to throw up again?"

            "surprisingly, no."

            dumbledore smiled, drew his traveling cloak a little more tightly around his neck, and said, "this way."

            he set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses. aaccording to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight.

            "so tell me, harry," said dumbledore. "your scar . . . has it been hurting at all?"

            harry raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark.

            "no," he said, "and i've been wondering about that. i thought it would be burning all the time now voldemort's getting so powerful again."

            "i, on the other hand, thought otherwise," said dumbledore. "lord voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. it appears that he is now employing occlumency against you."

            "well, i'm not complaining," said harry, who smiled after elara slipped her hand in his.

            "what about you, elara? how are your visions?"

            elara made a face.

            "annoying. i stay awake during them now. its like i'm living two timelines at once. most of the time i do pass out, though."

            "anything interesting?"

            "yeah, actually, i saw professor snape — "

            "we will discuss it when we are not susceptible to prying eyes and ears."

            they turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. harry looked sideways at dumbledore again. "professor?"

            "harry?"

            "er — where exactly are we?"

            "this, harry, is the charming village of budleigh babberton." 

            "and what are we doing here?"

            "ah yes, of course, i haven't told you," said dumbledore. "well, i have lost count of the number of times i have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. we are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to hogwarts."

            "how can lara and i help with that, sir?"

            "oh, i think we'll find a use for you," said dumbledore vaguely. "left here."

            "so we're seducing a professor?" said elara amusedly.

            "jolly good, elara."

            they proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. all the windows were dark. an odd chill that sent shivers up elara's spine persisted here. thinking of dementors, she cast a look over her shoulder and grasped her wand reassuringly at her side.

            "professor, why couldn't we just apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

            "because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," said dumbledore. "courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. in any case, most wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted apparators. at hogwarts, for instance —"

            "— you can't apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," said harry quickly. "hermione granger told me."

            "and she is quite right. we turn left again."

            the church clock chimed midnight behind them. elara wondered why dumbledore did not consider it rude to call on his old colleague so late, but now that conversation had been established, she had more pressing questions to ask. she had missed so much in the past month.

            "what happened to fudge? is he still in office?" 

            "no," said dumbledore, now turning up a steep side street. "he has been replaced, as i am sure you also saw, harry, by rufus scrimgeour, who used to be head of the auror office."

            "is he . . . do you think he's good?" asked harry.

            "an interesting question," said dumbledore. "he is able, certainly. a more decisive and forceful personality than cornelius."

            "yes, but i meant —"

            "i know what you meant. rufus is a man of action and, having fought dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate lord voldemort."

            elara waited, but dumbledore did not say anything else about scrimgeour. 

            "and . . . sir . . . i saw about madam bones," said harry,

            "yes," said dumbledore quietly. "a terrible loss. she was a great witch. just up here, i think — ouch."

            he had pointed with his injured hand.

            "professor, what happened to your — ?"

            "i have no time to explain now," said dumbledore. "it is a thrilling tale, i wish to do it justice."

            elara racked her brain for any type of vision that would explain what had happened to dumbledore's hand.

            "sir — i got a ministry of magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the death eaters. . . ."

            "yes, i received one myself," said dumbledore, still smiling. "did you find it useful?"

            "not really."

            "no, i thought not. you have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that i am indeed professor dumbledore and not an impostor."

            "i didn't . . ." harry began.

            "for future reference, it is raspberry . . . although of course, if i were a death eater, i would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself. elara, i'm sure you know enough about harry — "

            "loco vetoers wouldn't have let you in if you weren't who you say you were," said elara resolutely.

            "er . . . right," said harry. "well, on that leaflet, it said something about inferi. what exactly are they? the leaflet wasn't very clear."

            "they are corpses," said dumbledore calmly. "dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a dark wizard's bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since voldemort was last powerful. . . . he killed enough people to make an army of them, of course."

            "i've seen them," said elara in an odd voice, remembering the chilling vision she had only a few days before, "they're in a cave, under the water. there's thousands of them. . . ."

            "you are quite right. this is the place, just here. . . ."

            they were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. elara was too busy remembering the horrible idea of inferi to have much attention left for anything else, but as they reached the front gate, harry stopped dead and elara walked into him.

            "oh dear. oh dear, dear, dear."

            elara followed dumbledore's gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt her heart sink. the front door was hanging off its hinges.

            dumbledore glanced up and down the street. it seemed quite deserted.

            "wand out and follow me," he said quietly. "it might be dangerous."

            "sweet," said elara.

            he opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, elara and harry at his heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready.

            "lumos."

            dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. to the left, another door stood open. holding his illuminated wand aloft, dumbledore walked into the sitting room with elara and harry right behind him.

            a scene of total devastation met their eyes. a grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. a piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. the wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. elara's small intake of breath made dumbledore look around.

            "not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "yes, something horrible has happened here."

            dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. elara and harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of what she might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body. as morbid elara was, dead bodies made her queasy

            "maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him off, professor?" elara suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

            "i don't think so," said dumbledore quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

            "you mean he's — ?"

            "still here somewhere? yes."

            and without warning, dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "ouch!"

            "good evening, horace," said dumbledore, straightening up again.

            elara's jaw dropped. where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

            "there was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "it hurt."

            "that's what she said," muttered elara, unable to keep herself from making a dirty joke.

            the wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. the top of his head barely reached dumbledore's chin.

            "what gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. he seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

            "my dear horace," said dumbledore, looking amused, "if the death eaters really had come to call, the dark mark would have been set over the house."

            the wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead.

            "the dark mark," he muttered. "knew there was something . . . ah well. wouldn't have had time anyway, i'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

            he heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

            "would you like my assistance clearing up?" asked dumbledore politely.

            "please," said the other.

            they stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

            the furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments reformed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

            "what kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock.

            "on the walls? dragon," shouted the wizard called horace, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling.

            there was a final plunk from the piano, and silence.

            "yes, dragon," repeated the wizard conversationally. "my last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. still, it might be reusable."

            he stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within.

            "hmm. bit dusty."

            he set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. it was then that his gaze fell upon elara and harry.

            "oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to harry's forehead and to elara's grey eyes. "oho!"

            "this," said dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction, "is harry potter and elara lestrange tonks. harry, elara, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, horace slughorn."

            slughorn turned on dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "so that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? well, the answer's no, albus."

            he pushed past elara and harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

            "i suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked dumbledore. "for old time's sake?"

            slughorn hesitated.

            "all right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

            dumbledore smiled at elara and harry and directed them toward towards two chairs not unlike the one that slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. elara took the seat with the distinct impression that dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep them as visible as possible. certainly when slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon elara and harry.

            "hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes. "here —" he gave a drink to dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the trays at elara and harry, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. his legs were so short they did not touch the floor. elara had never wanted to laugh so badly.

            "well, how have you been keeping, horace?" dumbledore asked.

            "not so well," said slughorn at once. "weak chest. wheezy. rheumatism too. can't move like i used to. well, that's to be expected. old age. fatigue."

            "and yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," said dumbledore. "you can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

            slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "two. didn't hear my intruder charm go off, i was taking a bath. still," he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, "the fact remains that i'm an old man, albus. a tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

            he certainly had those, thought elara, looking around the room. it was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions. if elara had not known who lived there, she would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.

            "you're not yet as old as i am, horace," said dumbledore.

            "well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," said slughorn bluntly. his pale gooseberry eyes had found dumbledore's injured hand. "reactions not what they were, Ii see."

            "you're quite right," said dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made the back of elara's neck prickle unpleasantly. "i am undoubtedly slower than i was. but on the other hand . . ."

            he shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and elara noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that she had never seen dumbled with a heavy black stone that had cracked down the middle. slughorn's eyes lingered for a moment on the ring too, and elara saw a tiny frown momentarily crease his wide forehead.

            "so, all these precautions against intruders, horace . . . are they for the death eaters' benefit, or mine?" asked dumbledore.

            "what would the death eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" demanded slughorn.

            "i imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder," said dumbledore. "are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?"

            slughorn eyed dumbledore balefully for a moment, then muttered, "i haven't given them the chance. i've been on the move for a year. never stay in one place more than a week. move from muggle house to muggle house — the owners of this place are on holiday in the canary Islands — it's been very pleasant, i'll be sorry to leave. it's quite easy once you know how, one simple freezing charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't spot you bringing in the piano."

            "ingenious," said dumbledore. "but it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. now, if you were to return to hogwarts —"

            "if you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, albus! i might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since dolores umbridge left! if that's how you treat teachers these days —"

            "professor umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," said dumbledore. "i think you, horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.' "

            "that's what she did, did she?" said slughorn. "idiotic woman. never liked her."

            elara snorted loudly and harry chuckled. both dumbledore and slughorn looked round at them.

            "sorry," harry said hastily. "it's just — we don't like her either." 

            dumbledore stood up rather suddenly. 

            "are you leaving?" asked slughorn at once, looking hopeful. 

            "no, i was wondering whether i might use your bathroom," said dumbledore.

            "oh," said slughorn, clearly disappointed. "second on the left down the hall."

            dumbledore strode from the room. once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. after a few moments, slughorn got to his feet but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. he shot a furtive look at elara and harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his wide behind.

            "don't think i don't know why he's brought you two," he said abruptly.

            elara merely looked at slughorn. she noticed slughorn's watery eyes slid over harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

            "you look very like your father."

            "yeah, i've been told," said harry.

            "except for your eyes. you've got —"

            "my mother's eyes, yeah." he sounded weary.

            "hmpf. yes, well. you shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. your mother," slughorn added, in answer to harry's questioning look. "lily evans. one of the brightest i ever taught. vivacious, you know. charming girl. i used to tell her she ought to have been in my house. very cheeky answers i used to get back too."

            "which was your house?"

            "i was head of slytherin," said slughorn. "oh, now," he went on quickly, seeing the expression on elara's and harry's faces and wagging a stubby finger at them, "don't go holding that against me! you'll be gryffindor like her, i suppose, harry? yes, it usually goes in families. not always, though. ever heard of sirius black? you must have done — been in the papers for the last couple of years — died a few weeks ago —"

            as if on cue, harry's hand slid into elara's. she could feel it, he was distressed.

            "well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father's at school. the whole black family had been in my house, but sirius ended up in gryffindor! shame — he was a talented boy. i got his brother, regulus, when he came along, but i'd have liked the set."

            he sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. apparently lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on his backside.

            "your mother was muggle-born, of course. couldn't believe it when i found out. thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

            "one of our best friends is muggle-born," said elara, "and she's the best in our year."

            "funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" said slughorn.

             "not really," said elara coldly.

            slughorn looked down at her in surprise. "you mustn't think i'm prejudiced!" he said. "no, no, no! haven't i just said his mother was one of my all-time favorite students? and there was dirk cresswell in the year after her too — now head of the goblin liaison office, of course — another muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at gringotts!"

            he bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with tiny moving occupants.

            "all ex-students, all signed. you'll notice barnabas cuffe, editor of the daily prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. and ambrosius flume, of honeydukes — a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to ciceron harkiss, who gave him his first job! and at the back — you'll see her if you just crane your neck — that's gwenog jones, who of course captains the holyhead harpies. . . . people are always astonished to hear i'm on first-name terms with the harpies, and free tickets whenever i want them!"

            this thought seemed to cheer him up enormously.

            "and all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked elara, who could not help wondering why the death eaters had not yet tracked down slughorn if hampers of sweets, quidditch tickets, and visitors craving his advice and opinions could find him.

            the smile slid from slughorn's face as quickly as the blood from his walls.

            "of course not," he said, looking down at elara. "i have been out of touch with everybody for a year."

            elara had the impression that the words shocked slughorn himself; he looked quite unsettled for a moment. then he shrugged.

            "still . . . the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. all very well for dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the order of the phoenix! and while i'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, i don't personally fancy the mortality rate —"

            "you don't have to join the order to teach at hogwarts," said harry with a note of derision out of his voice: "lara's in the order. she's the most important out of any of us and she hasn't died. besides, most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed — well, unless you count quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with voldemort."

            elara had been sure slughorn would be one of those wizards who could not bear to hear voldemort's name spoken aloud, and was not disappointed: slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which elara and harry ignored.

            "the staff is safer than most people while dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" elara continued on.

            slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: he seemed to be thinking over elara's and harry's words.

            "well, yes, it is true that he-who-must-not-be-named has never sought a fight with dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly. "and i suppose one could argue that as i have not joined the death eaters, he-who-must-not-be-named can hardly count me a friend . . . in which case, i might well be safer a little closer to albus. . . . i cannot pretend that amelia bones's death did not shake me. . . . if she, with all her ministry contacts and protection . . ."

            dumbledore reentered the room and slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house.

            "oh, there you are, albus," he said. "you've been a very long time. upset stomach?"

            "no, i was merely reading the muggle magazines," said dumbledore. "i do love knitting patterns. well, harry, elara, we have trespassed upon horace's hospitality quite long enough; i think it is time for us to leave."

            not at all reluctant to obey, elara and harry jumped to their feet. slughorn seemed taken aback.

            "you're leaving?"

            "yes, indeed. i think i know a lost cause when I see one."

            "lost. . . ?"

            slughorn seemed agitated. he twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, elara put her leather jacket back on, and harry zip up his jacket.

            "well, i'm sorry you don't want the job, horace," said dumbledore, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

            "yes . . . well . . . very gracious . . . as i say . . ." 

            "good-bye, then."

            "bye," said harry.

            "it was nice meeting you," said elara.

            they were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

            "all right, all right, i'll do it!"

            dumbledore turned to see slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

            "you will come out of retirement?"

            "yes, yes," said slughorn impatiently. "i must be mad, but yes." 

            "wonderful," said dumbledore, beaming. "then, horace, we shall see you on the first of september."

            "yes, i daresay you will," grunted slughorn.

            as they set off down the garden path, slughorn's voice floated after them, "i'll want a pay rise, dumbledore!"

            dumbledore chuckled. the garden gate swung shut behind them, and they set off back down the hill through the dark and the swirling mist.

            "well done, you two," said dumbledore.

            "we didn't do anything," said harry in surprise.

            "oh yes you did. you showed horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to hogwarts. did you like him?" 

            "er . . ." said harry.

            "well. . . ." said elara.

            elara wasn't sure whether she liked slughorn or not. she supposed he had been pleasant in his way, but he had also seemed vain and, whatever he said to the contrary, much too surprised that a muggle-born should make a good witch.

            "horace," said dumbledore, relieving elara of the responsibility to say any of this, "likes his comfort. he also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. he enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. he has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. he used to handpick favorites at hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. horace formed a kind of club of his favorites with himself at the center, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the goblin liaison office."

            elara had a sudden and vivid mental image of a great swollen spider, spinning a web around it, twitching a thread here and there to bring its large and juicy flies a little closer.

            "i tell you all this," dumbledore continued, "not to turn you against horace — or, as we must now call him, professor slughorn — but to put you on your guard. he will undoubtedly try to collect you two. you would be both be the crown jewels of his collection; 'the chosen one' . . . or, as they call you these days, elara, 'the savior.' "

            "what? people know?" said elara, in disbelief.

            "i'm afraid they do. they know of your sight and prophecy."

            at these words, a chill that had nothing to do with the surrounding mist stole over elara. she was reminded of words she had heard a few weeks ago, words that had a horrible and particular meaning to her: she was a martyr. . .

            dumbledore had stopped walking, level with the church they had passed earlier.

            "this will do. if you will grasp my arm."

            braced this time, elara was ready for the apparition, but still found it unpleasant. when the pressure disappeared and she found himself able to breathe again, she was standing in a country lane beside dumbledore and looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of her third favorite building in the world: the burrow. in spite of the feeling of dread that had just swept through her, her spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it. ginny was in there . . . and so was mrs. weasley, who could cook better than anyone she knew. . . .

            "if you don't mind, harry, elara," said dumbledore, as they passed through the gate, "i'd like a few words with you before we part. in private. perhaps in here?"

            dumbledore pointed toward a run-down stone outhouse where the weasleys kept their broomsticks. a little puzzled, elara followed dumbledore through the creaking door into a space a little smaller than the average cupboard. dumbledore illuminated the tip of his wand, so that it glowed like a torch, and smiled down at elara and harry.

            "i hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, but i am pleased and a little proud at how well you two seem to be coping after everything that happened at the ministry. permit me to say that i think sirius would have been proud of you."

            elara swallowed; her voice seemed to have deserted him. she did not think she could stand to discuss sirius; it had been painful enough to dodge anya'a questions and even worse to hear sirius's name thrown out casually by slughorn.

            "it was cruel," said dumbledore softly, "that you two and sirius had such a short time together. a brutal ending to what should have been a long and happy relationship."

            elara nodded, her eyes fixed resolutely on the spider now climbing dumbledore's hat.

            "it's just hard," said harry, in a low voice, "to realize he won't write to me again."

            on instinct, elara's hand slipped into harry's. she hated she wasn't able to be there for him for the past month. she hated that only anya, the most apathetic person in the world, was her only source of conversation.

            "sirius represented much to you that you had never known before," said dumbledore gently. "naturally, the loss is devastating. . . ."

            "but while i was at the dursleys' . . ." interrupted harry, his voice growing stronger, "i realized i can't shut myself away or — or crack up. sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? and anyway, life's too short. . . . look at madam bones, look at emmeline vance. . . . it could be me next, couldn't it? but if it is," he said fiercely, "i'll make sure i take as many death eaters with me as i can, and voldemort too if i can manage it."

            "i have a natural talent for being reckless," said elara, "i want to take at least twenty death eaters out before i die."

            "i am immensely proud of you both," said dumbledore, his eyes gleaming, "and now, on a closely related subject . . . i gather that you have been taking the daily prophet over the last two weeks, harry?"

             "yes," said harry.

              "then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in the hall of prophecy?"

             "yes," said harry again. "and now everyone knows that i'm the one —"

             "no, they do not," interrupted dumbledore. "there are only three people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and lord voldemort, and they are standing in this smelly, spidery broom shed, and only two who know the contents of elara's. it is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that voldemort sent his death eaters to steal prophecies, and that the prophecies concerned you two.

             "now, i think i am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?"

             "no," said harry.

             "i haven't," said elara, "not even harry."

             "a wise decision, on the whole," said dumbledore. "although i think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, mr. ronald weasley and miss hermione granger. yes," he continued, when they looked startled, "i think they ought to know. you do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them."

             "i didn't want —"

             "— to worry or frighten them?" said dumbledore, surveying harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? you need your friends, harry. you especially need elara. as you so rightly said, sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away."

             "i need to say. . . . everything?" said elara nervously, not wishing to divulge certain information to her closest friends.

             "not the part you are concerned with, if you wish not too."

             elara nor harry said anything, but dumbledore did not seem to require an answer. he continued, "on a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

            "private — with you?" said elara, surprised out of his preoccupied silence.

            "yes. i think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

            "what will you be teaching us, sir?" said harry.

            "oh, a little of this, a little of that," said dumbledore airily. elara waited hopefully, but dumbledore did not elaborate.

            "if i'm having lessons with you, i won't have to do occlumency lessons with snape, will i?" asked harry.

            "professor snape, harry — and no, you will not."

            "good," said harry, "because they were a —"

            he stopped.

            "i think the word 'fiasco' would be a good one here," said dumbledore, nodding.

            elara and harry laughed.

            "well, that means i won't see much of professor snape from now on," said harry, "because he won't let me carry on potions unless i get 'outstanding' in my o.w.l., which i know i haven't."

            "don't count your owls before they are delivered," said dumbledore gravely. "which, now i think of it, ought to be some time later today. now, two more things, you two, before we part.

            "firstly, i wish you to keep your invisibility cloak with you at all times from this moment onward, harry. even within hogwarts itself. just in case, you understand me?"

            harry nodded.

            "and lastly, while you two stay here, the burrow has been given the highest security the ministry of magic can provide. these measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to arthur and molly — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the ministry before being sent on. they do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. however, it would be poor repayment if either of you risked your neck while staying with them."

            "i understand," said elara quickly.

            "same," said harry.

            "very well, then," said dumbledore, pushing open the broom shed door and stepping out into the yard. "i see a light in the kitchen. let us not deprive molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are."

* * *

AUTHORS NOTE

— i have like nothing to say so hi!!!!!

written: april 3, 2020
published: june 7, 2020