Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Kahlen was starting to wonder if super soldiers had especially bad reactions to apparition.
The moment their feet settled on the grassy shores of the Black Lake Bucky was hurling. With a little more practice, Steve was able to laugh at his friend’s misery, knowing that he would be fine in a few minutes. Watching Steve with Bucky made Kahlen smile, his relaxed stance and easy smiles enhanced by his childhood best friend.
When his laughter stopped, Steve looked at his surroundings and his jaw dropped. Kahlen watched as he took in the enormous castle in front of him, then he turned to see the quaint village below the hillside, the glittering lake at his back and the eerie forest to his right. His awe was echoed by Bucky as soon as he stopped spewing on the grass and managed to remain upright without getting nauseous again.
“You really went to school here?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes off the castle.
Kahlen chuckled. “Boys, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She began up the slope towards the building with Hermione at her side and the boys followed suit after a moment’s hesitation. As they walked, they passed through the protective wards surrounding the school. After the battle of Hogwarts they’d been given permission by McGonagall to enter the wards whenever they wanted to stop by and chat, and they took her up on her offer often. As such, they didn’t need to be retrieved from Hogsmead like most visitors, however, it also meant McGonagall had no idea they’d arrived. Thankfully, a familiar face obscured by the plants covering the greenhouses noticed their approach.
“Kahlen? Hermione?” Neville’s wide eyes widened with surprise and happiness, his head just barely visible over the many pots housing various plants, some squirming about while others remained still. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to see McGonagall,” Hermione answered, enveloping the boy in a hug. As she stepped back she was quickly replaced by Kahlen, making Neville laugh. Once free, he looked up to see the other members of their little group. Kahlen followed his line of sight to find both boys watching them with soft smiles.
“Neville, this is Steve and Bucky,” she explained, pointing them out as they moved forward to shake the wizard’s hand.
“Neville Longbottom, apprentice Herbology professor,” he introduced himself, greeting both men with a smile.
“Where’s Professor Sprout?” Hermione looked around for the portly witch but her search came up empty.
“She’s off to Diagon Alley to pick up the new shipment of Asphodel; the sixth years are scheduled to make a Draught of Living Death in Potions next week.”
“We’ll have to say hello next time, then,” Kahlen decided. Noting the change in tone, Neville frowned.
“Has something happened?” He asked. "Have you found the bastards that attacked the Lupins?" His anger was a drastic change from his normally sunny personality and Kahlen was forced to remember just how much he'd lost to the Death Eaters.
“We’re here to see Headmistress McGonagall,” Hermione replied evasively. “We need her help.” Nodding, Neville offered to walk them to her office. Despite knowing how to get there the witches agreed, eager to chat with their friend while the super soldiers continued to drink in every detail of the old building. Too soon they arrived at the large stone gargoyle, much to the boys' confusion.
“Where’s the office?” Bucky asked. Instead of answering, Neville smirked.
“Calico,” he said in a loud, clear voice. Immediately the Gargoyle began to spin, a set of stairs appearing as it continued upwards. “She’ll be with you in a moment; there was a little… disagreement between Filch and the House Elves.” Sending them one last smile, Neville returned to his plants.
Kahlen turned to find a little frown on Steve’s face and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry, the House Elves are all here of their own free will,” she said in answer to his unasked question. He breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as they took the stairs to the Headmistress’s office.
The office was different from how Dumbledore had had it. Gone was Fawkes’ perch, the bird having disappeared into the wild after the death of its master. Instead, a cat dozed in a little bed, quiet purrs filling the room. Many of the odd nicknacks had been replaced by books and the often unused fireplace burned brightly, gentle crackling providing a calming background. Throughout the room were the occasional images of felines, though nowhere near as many as Dolores’ old office. They were subtle changes, the overall ambience remaining one of authority, albeit much warmer, the kind of authority you could tell worked in your best interests.
The one thing that had not changed was the wall of portraits of previous Headmasters, though two new additions had joined their predecessors. Like all the paintings in Hogwarts, the portraits moved about. Some read while others sipped their tea or visited their neighbour, partaking in a conversation the living could not hear. The only ones really focused on them were those of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.
Kahlen could see Steve and Bucky’s shock at the pictures but she didn’t explain, her eyes locked on her old Headmaster and Professor.
“Miss Potter,” Dumbledore’s portrait greeted, his voice brittle but wise. Snape didn’t speak, choosing instead to glare at the girl.
“Albus,” she replied coldly, having long gotten past the need to address him properly. The man – painting, she supposed – just smiled, not offended in the slightest.
“You have not entered this office in quite some time,” the old man continued, as though they were old friends.
It was true. Anytime she’d visited Minerva she’d requested they take their tea elsewhere; the Great Hall, the astronomy tower, Hagrid’s Hut, anywhere but the office that held the last remnants of the men who’d manipulated her for her whole life.
“No,” she agreed. “I haven’t.”
“I take it that is a result of my residing on this wall.” He wasn’t asking, already knowing the truth, though his smile never dropped. “I apologize for any strife I caused in my time,” he said gently, either not noticing or not caring that her gaze had somehow hardened even more. “I wish you had not had to go through so much in your young life.”
Kahlen shook her head, seeing Snape do the same in her peripheral vision. “Thank you for trying to help me,” she said, her voice hard as steel and eyes coolly locked on the portrait of the man that had caused so much of her pain. “But do not pretend to have cared for me.” Albus looked confused but she barely paused. “I was a pawn, a piece for you to play to further your goals. You may not have wished me harm but you certainly didn’t protect me from it.”
“Miss Potter, I assure you–”
“It took me a long time to finally realize how much you manipulated me,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Her need to settle this once and for all was overwhelming. “I understand we were at war; you did what needed to be done for the good of the majority, but my safety was a casualty of your decisions. I’ve come to terms with my role in the war and the part you played in placing me in it, and while I’m eternally grateful to have made it past the war with most of my friends and family intact, I can no longer pretend as though you had anything to do with keeping us safe. I understand your actions, but I cannot admire or respect you for them,” she finished, feeling an impossible weight drop from her shoulders.
Albus’ deceptive smile had finally disappeared, replaced with a grim frown, though he made no attempt to defend himself from her assessment of their relationship. She could see Snape hiding a grin, forcing his signature sneer as he looked at her. She didn’t like the man but he was manipulated just as much as she was. As much as she hated it, she understood him, too, and she hoped he’d found peace in his final moments.
“Albus was my friend for many years,” McGonagall said, her thick accent a familiar comfort. The group turned to see her watching the interaction, a sadness held in her eyes. “But I often argued with his decisions when it came to you, Miss Potter.”
Kahlen grinned. “That, dear Minerva, is why you are my favourite Professor. Or Headmistress now, I suppose,” she corrected, pulling the woman into a hug. After another round of introductions that made Kahlen wish they had nametags, the group settled into the little seating area, the boys looking so out of place Kahlen couldn’t help but laugh.
“So,” Minerva began, tone serious. “I take it this is not a social call.” She looked pointedly at the two muggles.
“Unfortunately, no,” Kahlen agreed. She quickly recapped what they’d learned about the Death Eaters and Hydra, watching the witch’s already stern expression grow sour.
“I remembered reading about the Winter Soldier in one of the books in the library. We think it could explain how wizards began working with Hydra,” Hermione said. McGonagall eyed her suspiciously through her spectacles.
“I know the book you are referring to, Miss Granger, and if I remember correctly that book resides in the restricted section.” Hermione nervously played with her hair, offering no explanation as the Headmistress sighed and stood to retrieve a book from her crowded shelves, the cover sporting a Hydra on the worn leather. “This has more detail than the restricted book,” she explained, shooting a look at the guilty looking Hermione. She skimmed the pages, nodding as she read and ignoring the anxious looks from her guests. Shutting the book, she looked up again.
“Arnim Zola, one of the top scientists for Hydra, was a squib,” she stated.
“What’s a squib?” Bucky questioned, his grasp on the magical world sorely lacking.
“A non-magical person born to magical parents,” Hermione explained while simultaneously trying to grasp all the implications of what Minerva had said.
“You’re saying Zola was the son of a wizard?” Steve asked sceptically. He remembered the beady-eyed man, and the idea that he had any sort of power, magical or not, was almost comical.
“Or a witch, yes,” McGonagall confirmed. “He joined Hydra to compensate for his lack of magical abilities and recruited a wizard to help him in conditioning the Winter Soldier.” Bucky frowned, trying to figure out who the wizard was. His memories were foggy; everytime someone mentioned the Winter Soldier it felt like they were talking about another person, a separate entity. Which, he supposed they were, he was not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he should have the memories still.
“But we arrested Zola,” Steve said. “In the forties, he was brought to America.”
“That’s correct, however, the wizard he recruited remained loyal to Hydra and worked his way up the ranks over the course of his lifetime, eventually bringing his sons into the organization” McGonagall continued.
“But who was he?” Kahlen asked, racking her brain for the answer.
“Reinhard Lestrange,” Minerva said, her lips set in a grim line.
“Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange’s father?” Hermione asked for confirmation, incredulous.
“And Bellatrix’ father-in-law,” Kahlen added bitterly, receiving a nod from the older witch. “But the Lestranges are all dead,” Kahlen reasoned. “They can’t be behind the current attacks, they must’ve brought someone else into Hydra.”
“But they had so many contacts, how will we figure out who?” Hermione sighed, disappointed at their lack of success in figuring out who was behind the attacks.
Before Minerva could respond, a loud noise sounded from Steve’s watch, startling the group.
“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY spoke from the watch, “Igor Karkaroff was just spotted in London entering a pub with several men in black cloaks.”
Kahlen paled. “Friday, what’s the name of the pub?”
“The Leaky Cauldron.”