Unrepentant

"Get dressed now," as soon as she saw him walk into the kitchen she began urging him back into the bedroom. "No time for food, we've got to go." Part of here felt bad. But Thomas always had some fruit on him. He'd have to live with an apple this morning. When he didn't turn around, she got agitated. What part of 'We've got to go' did he not understand.
"What are you on about?" He sounded tired. The boy could sleep like a baby. She envied him alot for that. She could do with a peaceful night sleep. But alas she had lost that luxury a long time ago.
"Go get changed. I've got to go and its already a detour to drop you with Tommy."
"Drop me off. What in Merlin's name are you going on about?." He sounded like a child.
"Go get changed Sebastian I haven't got all day." If he didn't get changed in the next minute, she would drag him in there and do it herself and neither of the pair would want that. Luckily for them both, he sulked off into the small room, where she had left his freshly cleaned, ministry provided clothes. If she was honest with herself, she hated them. She had managed to transfigure his shirt so that it would fit his chest. But the whole ensemble was incredibly plain. So completely un-sebastian that it almost shattered his perfectly constructed charm. Maybe that was for the best. Sebastian had always been easy on the eyes. The girl had thought so the minute she first saw him. He walked with a swagger that on anyone else would have looked daft. But on Sebastian Sallow it fit perfectly into the meticulously constructed image of the handsome charming young Dueling champion.
Maybe it was best that something dulled those thoughts. Sebastian had quickly taught her that not all that glitters is gold. And his pre-possesing nature wasn't enough to supersede his innate ability to ruin everything. Though she still hated those clothes. Maybe she should get him a jumper. She added it to her mental list of jobs for the day.
When he finally returned he held out his arm. That caught the girl off guard. Since she had collected him on Thursday the boy had been reluctant to touch her, on many occasions she had to remind him that he could infact not travel without her. But this morning he held his arm out to her. He looked the picture of a gentleman. If the woman hadn't known any better she would have thought this an entirely different man to the boy she sent to prison. A man who had been to everyone of Proffesor Weasley's grace and etiquette classes in their final years. This time it was her turn to grab his arm gingerly. She apperated the pair out of her small cottage and into her office at the ministry.
"Morning sweetheart, sleep well." He approached her as he always did, mug in hand, exactly how she likes it. He had always been like this from the minute they got partnered together. Tommy had graduated from training the year after she had. Having made a mark for herself, both through her history at hogwarts and her high ranking on the final exam, she was given the privilege of choosing her partner. She had chosen Tommy almost immediately. He ranked second in his class, losing out only to a Ms Camilla Diggory. Though if she was honest, the girl suspected that Ms Diggory's success was less due to her talent as in a much larger part to the prominence of her family on the wizengmot. Having worked with her once or twice, she was rather ditzy. Not nearly as sharp as Tommy was. They had got along instantly. And as time went on she confided her story in him as he confided his in her. He had grown aware of her tendencies to isolate herself. Had become used to her one track mind.
"Mmmhm, I need to leave, no time for coffee. Send me an owl if you find anything. Bye. Love you." And with that she was gone. She hadn't lied when she said she was in a hurry. Apparition was such a powerful thing. It had saved her from a variety of compromising situations  and allowed her to live in Professor Fig's old house in Scotland despite having work in London every day.
When she opened her eyes again. She'd never quite gotten over the initial nausea of transportation magic. As efficient as it was it wasn't half as comfortable as a broom or, as she was more inclined, a hippogriff. The cobblestone Street sprawled out infront of her. The all too familiar hustle and bustle of the wizarding town. Hogsmede. She'd arrived just outside of Ollivanders large black bay windows. She looked inside momentarily, watching a young boy in Gryfindor robes was being scrutinised under Mr Ollivander's expert eye. Maybe he had brockn his wand. It was a mystery how she hadn't broken hers after all this time, she had been disarmed her fair share of time. One day she was fighting a hoard of angry poacher in Kent. They had launched her wand straight off one of the white cliffs. Nothing an summoning charm couldn't solve of course. But it was a Miracle it survived the fall
Despite the ever calling siren song of the three broomsticks, it was not hogsmede that the girl needed. Only the closest stop to her true destination.  She started on the path she had walked a million times before. With Poppy, laughing about the niffler whom had stolen her purse, resulting in them running around hogsmede for an hour trying to catch it, neither remembering the multitude of spells that would have slowed them down. Or with Natsai, who would always insist on going to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, which served her favourite lemon and elderflower tart, instead of the three broomsticks - the girl's usual haunt.
She remembered vising the town with Amit once or twice, usually in the evenings in their 7th year to get a warm drink before heading out to star gaze together. And with Imelda to stock up on broom polish, sometimes for themselves but more ofter then not as bribes from Proffesor Kogawa for extra allocated practice sessions on the pitch. She thought about the many times she had visited with Ominis. He was always more reluctant to leave the castle, but could be easily convinced if you suggested you had an errand to run instead of going merely for your own pleasure. She thought that perhaps he wanted to keep as much of an eye on her, so to speak, as he possibly could and the word errand didn't conjure the image of leisurely shopping trips in his head.
But most importantly, the girl thought as she past the bridge by the entrance to the forbidden forest, it was with Sebastian that she had first discovered her love for the town. It had been the day she first fought beside him, the day he'd first spoke of his sister to her. It was also the day he stood up against Victor Rookwood and Theopolis Harlow in defence of her. He was a great duelist, she would never deny that, but in that moment the young boy couldn’t have been more in over his head. And yet he didn't look scared, he didn't back away from her. He raised his wand against the most dangerous men in Scotland. It was a wonder he wasn't sorted into Gryfindor.
She continued walking with a light smile plasterd across her face. As she neared the castle all she could focus on was the all too familiar catter of the hogwarts student body. Little had changed. They still spoke of quidditch, complained about their housmates, Laughing at proffesor Rowen or ogling over Proffesor Garlick. No, it seemed nothing had changed at all. She spotted, sat on a bench near the large Central fountain, the Red headed woman she had been looking for.
"Mrs Weasley!" The auror sprinted to the woman likely an odd sight for the on looking students -many of whom had never seen an auror- whi watched as she threw her arms around the tall lady she missed so much.
"Oh how I've missed you, I hope you've been receiving my letters." She smiled widely as she parted from her place at the woman's chest. Mrs Weasley had taken her in at the end of her fifth year, officially adopted her by her 7th. She was as much a mother to the girl as an uncle to Garath.
"I have my dear, I where the brooch you sent every day, got a fair few complaints may I add." The comment earned a giggle. As they walked had in hand towards the castle.
"Now you must tell me what this 'matter of ergency' is. If you're in danger I express you tell me."
"No danger. I just need to look at some files on an old teacher here is all. Proffesor Morganach. She taught defence against the dark arts. I was hoping the school had a portrait of her somewhere."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure. I don't recognise a Morganach. However there are plenty of places this school hides portraits l, you know that better then most, don't you."
"Yes well I'm sure I'll find it." She smiled as they past into Central Hall. All of a sudden a million eyes were on her. She was 15 again, talking to Professor Fig by the ornate fountain. Suddenly she was the new fifth year again. She had arrived late the previous evening, everyone was talking about the dragon attack, all eyes were on her for the first time in her life. A theme that would follow her for the next decade.
"I really must go, I'm in a huge hurry. I promise as soon as this case is over I will take some leave."
Proffesor Weasley smiled, they both knew that was a lie, the Saviour of the Valley never took a break. She never had. But she says nothing only hugs the girl before waving her off.
"I love you my dear."
"I love you too."
And she was gone without a trace, toward the wooden bridge to the clock tower, through the Defense against the dark arts tower, past the haunted toilets, where peeves made a futile attempt to scare her which the meticulously trained auror met only with a stone face and a glare that could rival medusa. It seemed her hatred for the poltergeist hadn't depleted with time. He had been nothing but a thorn in her side her entire magical education, all starting that day in the restricted section. Eventually she reached her destination. A simple map of Scotland, yellowing with age, in an elegant wooden frame.
She pulled out her wand from its leather holster by her side, aiming it slightly above the picture. She was aware of the confused look from a passing hufflepuff whom stopped for a moment before continuing towards the bridge.
"Depulso" the map split into two, revealing at once an expansive room filled from wall to wall with un-framed portraits. If Isidora had a portrait it would be in here.
She stood for a moment starring at the task that stood infront of her. Hundreds of rolled uo portraits, some alive and chatting happily amongst themselves, some still and silent.
"Accio Isidora?" She was well aware that wasn't hiw the summoning charm worked, but she had hoped for a miracle. "Accio portrait of Isidora?" Still nothing. It seems she'd have to do this the long way.
After a good two hours, the poor girl was positively exhausted. She had began to doubt herself, Isidora had been shunned from history after what she did. No one knew of proffesor Morganach. Maybe her portraits had been burnt. She continued to route through the piles of unrolled paintings. Historians and Writers, proffesors and politicians, duelists and potioneers. Everyone but who she was looking for. Two hours became three. Every face a bigger disappointment. Until finally there she stood, at the very bottom of a rater dusty chest. Isidora Morganach. The portrait wasn't enchanted. But it depicted the woman magnificently, exactly as she had appeared in her memories.
She left the room immediately, heading towards the wooden bridge. One hand fell deep into her enchanted bag, clutching her broom tightly ready to pull it out as soon as she reached the open air. Once she felt the wind on her face, she mounted it and flew away from the castle, southwards, to feldcroft.
She arrived there a little over half an hour later, with the help of the communal floo flame in lower hogsfield. It was the same as it had always been. Like a fairy tale. She wanted to stop. Vist Mr Sallows grave, mourn the friend she lost that day. How she had loved him. She loved him through it all. Maybe had she nit she would've stopped him. Guilt. If the woman had one enemy it would be herself 9 years ago. All she had to say was expelliarmus and it all would have been fine. She had masterd the spell long before she had entered the crypt. She had no reason not to. She sacrificed three people that day. She failed the Sallow's.
She dragged herself away from the village, up the steep hill to the small ruined house by the well. She hadn't visited since she came with Sebastian that day. She hoped it was still there.
As she approached her head began to ring and her heart thumped loudly against her chest.but it was there. The ruined frame. With a flick of her wand it was in her bag, with the portrait she'd taken from hogwarts. It was all coming together swimmingly. Checking her wrist watch, an old gift from Ominis after she passed training, 14:17. She had to leave now, David Septimus' paint shop closes at 4.
Appertaining infront of the shop took some concentration, she had never actually been to the shop before, only seen it in pictures. She appeared across the street, facing its Navy facade of chipping paint. The little Bell rang as she entered as a chorus of Good days and Hellos followed from every painting linning the walls. Beautiful women in flowery dresses, men in suits of armour, scholars with quills tucked behind their ears and singers humming pleasant symphonies. The shop buzzed with life.
"Good afternoon sir I am.."
"Ah officer Fig, good day." Mr Spetimus was a short man, with curly brown hair which was greying at the roots. He wore a pair of goggles with a choice of four magnifying lenses all framed in gold. His face was coverd in paint, brown and blue.
"You know me?"
"Yes yes my dear, your face has been commissioned several times." She wasn't sure if she should be flatterd or concerned, but she brushed past it time was of the essence.
"Yes about commissions. I have an odd request."
"Nothing is odd in my line if work my dear."
"Yes well, I have a frame here, with some damaged canvas on it, ripped. I need it re painted. I have a photograph of the subject here," She pulled out the frame and portrait from her bag. "Would it be possible to sew in some fresh canvas, leaving whats already there, and repaint her in there?" The man pulled one of the lenses over his eye. He spent some time examining the frame.
"I could, but I never met this woman. It won't be much like her."
"I have a feeling that that won't be a problem." She smiled at the gentleman who looked at her with confusion.
"As you wish Ms Fig. It will take me about a week. I'll have it sent to you when it'd finished."
" If its possible, I'd prefer ti pick ot up myself, could you send an owl when you've finished it?"
"If that's what works for you officer."
And so sheet the frame, and the portrait along with a hefty handful of coins and apperated back to hogsmede. It seems she had time to buy that jumper after all.