Thirteen
'Cause I'm only human, after all. You're only human, after all. Don't put the blame on me. Don't put your blame on me.
- Human, Rag 'n Bone
Although there is some initial protest at the idea of having a break, it is agreed that the showing shall not continue immediately. (It is agreed, because no one dares to argue with the Pevensies, eyes cutting into anyone who dares attempt to argue with them.) (They all bow to these kings and queens, even if they do not know their status.)
As people begin to get up from their seats to stretch their legs, Harry Potter and his two friends linger to the side of the Hall. They know they are not welcomed by the majority of the student population; they can see the glares, the angry mutters, the scowls cast towards them. They can see how people go out of their way to avoid them, skirting around the trio as though they are a disease that no one wants to contract. They do not understand why they are receiving this reaction from the students of the hall, the students that they have known for so many years. (The students that hardly know Cass; why would they be on her side? Can they not see that she is dark, that she is the villain her father never was, that she is crueler than Voldemort and just as dangerous?)
(Oh, you naive children. You call her dark, failing to see the glow of her eyes, the brightness to her magic. You name her villain, and yet it is she who has saved the school over and over again. You say she is cruel, but it is she who has sat with homesick first-years, she who has helped students in abusive living conditions, she who has seen someone on the Astronomy tower and talked them out of stepping off the edge.) (How could Hogwarts not be loyal to her?)
Albus Dumbledore does not leave his seat, for his bones ache and his joints protest at the very thought of getting to his feet. He does not speak to anyone, for there is no one who wishes to speak to him, and even if there was someone willing to talk to him, his voice is still gone, still held captive by Susan Pevensie. He will take it back, of course; he will not let these children playing at being wielders of the Olde Magick steal something so precious as his voice from him. He will take it back, and he will have his revenge, and then he will kill Cass for daring to injure his prophecy-child.
(Albus Dumbledore, you are a fool. You say they are children, you say they are playing at being wielders of the Olde Magick, but have you not noticed how your bones ache? Have you not noticed the weakening of your magic? Have you not noticed the age of your limbs?) (Albus Dumbledore, do not call them children. Do not call them pretenders. Name them Fury, name them Royalty, name them Ancient, but do not taint their titles with your mistruths and lies.)
Amelia Bones gets to her feet and offers a hand to Narcissa Malfoy, who accepts gratefully. They trail towards the food table that has appeared off to the side of the Hall, and Susan Bones grins delightedly when she sees them blush slightly upon realizing that they have not let go of each other's hands. Narcissa draws Susan Bones into a conversation about how it is to be in Hufflepuff, and Amelia smiles as she sees the ease with which the two trade words. (For a moment, Amelia does not feel weighed down by worries about Dumbledore, about Cass, about Hogwarts.) (Two women holding hands and a younger girl who closely resembles one of the women; if one did not know who they were, one would describe them as a family.)
(Draco Malfoy knows who they are, so he does not describe them as a family. And yet, the word family drifts through his thoughts and settles in the corner of his mind, an unexpected but not unwelcome spectator.) (He never knew what a family was, not until he met Ginny-Luna-Neville-Cass. He doesn't think his mother has ever truly known a family either. If she chooses to create a new family for herself, he'll be happy that she gets to experience the safety he has felt ever since he met his friends.)
As the students begin to walk around the hall, reveling in the freedom of moving after so long sitting still, the professors of Hogwarts attempt to come to terms with what they have been seeing. Minerva McGonagall sits with her head in her hands, and there are tears trailing down her face as she sees how she has failed to protect the students she once swore to keep safe. Pomona Sprout sits next to her, and there is a wetness in her eyes as she stares at the students that have been forced to grow up too fast. Severus Snape sits with his head tilted back, searching the ceiling for answers no one can provide him, answers no one has the answer to. Filius Flitwick gazes at Cass and her siblings with a calculating stare, trying to figure out what they have done, trying to figure out what his negligence has forced them to have to do to survive.
(The students see the professors, see how their teachers suffer as they realize what they have willfully missed in their time of teaching at the school. The students see this, and they feel no empathy. These are the people who were supposed to protect them. These are the people who were meant to give them a place to be children. These are the people who were supposed to guide them as they became adults. And they failed.) (Oh teachers, do you feel guilty for what you have missed? Oh teachers, do not expect forgiveness; the children are no longer children, and they will not forgive your failures.)
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black do not get to their feet to stretch their limbs, like so many of the children do. They do not wander towards the food hand in hand, like Narcissa and Amelia. No, Remus and Sirius do not do these things. Instead, they sit in their seats, gripping tightly onto each other's hands, and they anguish. They anguish over what they have done, and how their actions have cost them their daughter. They anguish over their anger towards Harry, because they are meant to look after him but how can they do that when he has hurt their daughter? They anguish over their mistakes, because as they watch Cass curl into her siblings (and how did that happen?) until it is impossible to tell where one ends and another begins, they know that they have lost her entirely.
(You lost her the moment you left her. You lost her the moment you left her alone in a world that takes every innocent thing and destroys it. You don't have a daughter, not anymore. She is Edmund's twin, she is Peter-Lucy-Susan's sister, she is Draco-Luna-Neville-Ginny's friends. She is Queen of Narnia and Queen of the Stars and a goddess in her own right. She is all of these things. But she is not, and has not been since she was but a babe, your daughter.)
Lucius Malfoy hides in the shadows cloaking the back of the hall, as far away from the Pevensie siblings as he can be. He has seen their power, has seen how they silenced Dumbledore, has seen how they took their revenge upon Harry Potter. He has seen it all. He has seen enough to know that he wants nothing to do with the Pevensie siblings. So he hides, as he has done many times before, cloaks himself in shadows and stares out at the rest of the hall from the blackness he is trying so hard to become one with.
(The students walk past him, and they sneer at this coward, this man hiding in shadows so that he may not be hunted by those he has spurned. They see him, with his blue eyes and blonde hair, and when they whisper about him as they pass it is not his name that they refer to him by. "That's Draco Malfoy's father," they say. "He is nothing like his son.") (Once, Lucius Malfoy was a name to be remembered. Now it is an afterthought, a whisper that is fading away. Now, the only name that matters is that of the son he once scorned, and is that not the truest revenge?)
Augusta Longbottom climbs to her feet when it is decided that there will be a break, although her bones protest and her joints complain. She shuffles over to where her grandson sits, and cannot even find it in herself to be mad that he is sitting on the floor, because there is a strength to his gaze that makes it clear who has the power in the room. She asks to speak to him; he agrees only after a nudge from his redhead girlfriend. They walk a few steps away, and she apologizes to him. She apologizes for not seeing the person her was, is, will be. She apologizes for only ever looking for Frank in his eyes. She apologizes for not being a better person. It is not a long conversation. When Augusta Longbottom goes back to her seat, it is with watery eyes and a pained heart, but also the knowledge that her grandson has become twice the man his father ever was.
(Neville returns to his friends, and although he feels bad for the tears on his grandmother's cheeks, he cannot find it in himself to absolve her of her guilt. He is worth more than a memory of someone he never knew; he knows that now, thanks to Cass. And it pains him that his grandmother never realized that truth. So while he mourns the tears she has shed, he accepts that they are a necessary evil. They will never again be a true family - they were never a true family in the first place - but at least they are parting on amicable terms.)
Draco-Luna-Neville-Ginny see Cass twined amongst the forms of her siblings, and they smile, softer smiles that few have ever seen on their faces. Neville helps Luna to her feet and they go to get food; Ginny and Draco remain with the Pevensies, uneasy at the thought of leaving them, uneasy at the thought of not being there should there be an attack. An unreasonable fear, they know, but one they cannot shake, not yet, not so soon after seeing their friend being chased by a snake larger than anything they have ever seen. This is why Draco and Ginny remain behind; this is why Neville and Luna return as soon as they can, platters heaped with food floating in the air behind them. When the latter sit down, placing the food carefully on the ground between them and the Pevensies so that everyone might be able to eat, Ginny and Draco let out a sigh of relief. Everyone is together. Everyone is safe.
(There is a voice, whispering in Draco-Neville-Luna-Ginny's ears. It whispers what might have been, if Cass had been a little bit slower, if they had been there to help her, if they had seen what was happening to Ginny sooner. They do their best to ignore this voice; they look at Cass, and they look at each other, and they silently vow that none of them will be left behind, that none of them will be left alone like they have all been.)
The Pevensie siblings curl up together on a couch, and if they close their eyes and dream, it is almost like it once was, back in the only place they have ever called home. They do not close their eyes, of course; they will never be so vulnerable in front of these people who they do not trust. But if they did close their eyes, it would feel almost like it once was, on the days when Lucy bullied Susan and Peter into taking a break and Edmund coaxed Cass from the wilds and the five siblings lay together on a couch and simply took a moment to revel in how lucky they are to have each other. It almost feels like those peaceful days, and that is enough, isn't it?
(It is not enough. It is never enough. They were separated from Cass for eleven years, and the absence of her in those years has never faded from their memories. They lost her once more, and that time was worse, because they knew what they had lost. The emptiness of that time is a ghost that will never cease to haunt them.) (They know what it is to lose a sibling, and so they have sworn to protect each other with everything they have, with everything they are. Never will they feel that emptiness, that absence, again.)