The Grind (Book 2) Ch.34

— Atlas —

It was too nice a day for a funeral…

The sun was shining. The sky was blue and clear. There was a pleasant nip in the air. And… Lady Hogwarts was now missing one of her children.

“Ginny… Ginny was a good friend,” Luna said, uncharacteristically somber, but still standing strong. “She was a part of my life for as long as I can remember. She humored me. She indulged me when few others would. She was my childhood. I hope I was hers, too. She’s chasing Snorkacks now. May they lead her on a merry adventure, like the ones we used to have.”

We’d returned to Hogwarts for the memorial, returned with Ginny’s body to lay her to rest properly. Burying her in Oldtown would’ve been wrong. Wrong on so many levels. She deserved to be with Lady Hogwarts.

For all of Hogwarts, the world had paused. Abruptly frozen. Like a stuck gear caught in the works. Nothing could stay the same from here on. As the first of us to die in this new world, the loss of Ginny changed everything. No other event came close; nothing else mattered when one of our own had fallen.

Everyone had come back to pay their respects. Including the fosters throughout the realm. They made excuses and ducked out on their hosts to apparate back. Witches and wizards could cheat like that, with the Westerosi nonethewiser. As close as we were becoming to some of the locals, this was a time for Hogwarts and no one else.

All of us attended the funeral, youngest to oldest. Everyone knew each other in Hogwarts, especially for a social soul like Ginny. So even beyond the change in everything we knew, her loss would be felt personally by many. That tragic reality showed in how many were willing to get up there and speak for the departed.

“I think Ginny would’ve hated this,” Heather said, standing beside the coffin and speaking to everyone there. “I mean, look at us. Mourning, crying, not a single smile in sight… When did you ever see her like that…?! S-She-…!”

Her voice wavered and cracked, “She wouldn’t have wanted this… She wouldn’t have wanted to be cried over… But I can’t help it. This world’s a darker place without her. I hope she can forgive me for not smiling at her funeral. And… and for so much more…”

It… It was a heavy blow. To all of us. Ron and Heather most of all. They’d been confronted by it first. Then, they didn’t get closure until long after… In the immediate aftermath of Oldtown’s darkest day, fatigue had finally claimed them. They slept through Ginny’s tragic final hours.

Perhaps that was for the best… They would’ve torn themselves apart and maybe even driven themselves to join her. Not that I or Dumbledore or any of the others were feeling much better… Still, waking up to find your sister gone must’ve been a heartbreaking experience.

When Ron rose to speak his piece, his voice was flat and his posture was stiff. He’d been like that since he and Heather first brought Ginny back to me and Dumbledore. Focused back then, but now, it had given way to a sort of listless iciness, a lingering shock that refused to fade.

“Even in a family of seven siblings, Ginny was always the one closest to me,” Ron said plainly. “She drove me to frustration more times than I can count. She always had my back… I don’t quite know what to do without her, to be honest. Everything’s still just… numb.”

The almost nonchalant, almost uncaring way he spoke was anything but; anyone could tell. It was such a monumental loss that it hadn’t fully set in. It was a young man’s world, a brother’s world, torn apart in a single act of tragedy. Hearing Ron like that hit hard. Harder than any tears or rage.

“I… I’ll find something… I’ll do something. I swear,” Ron mused up there. He still sounded partially removed from his own words, from the whole situation. “To repent, to avenge, to… something… I won’t rest, Ginny. Not until… something…”

The Twins guided him down from the stand with gentle hands. Ron hardly seemed to notice. I was worried about him and resolved to find the time to speak to him in the coming days. I didn’t know where he would go from here. He didn’t seem to, either.

He was far from the same self-absorbed and immature boy he’d once been. He’d changed for the better and grown as a person since his return to Hogwarts and all of us being ripped from Earth. He had respect, now, and responsibilities in this new world. I honestly found myself liking the new Ron, or at least, not minding him at all. So it hurt to see him like this.

The staff were far from immune to the current tragedy. I’d seen Professor McGonagall shedding silent tears, stiff-backed but still standing straight.

Professor Flitwick hadn’t bothered with the silent part… Sprout hadn’t either, and I’d seen her going around to hug each of her ‘Puffs almost desperately. None of them were spared her attention. None refused…

Even Snape was somber, and Sirius hadn’t cracked a single joke all day. For all their flaws and differences, both men knew loss.

My darling Septima had to physically sit down when I’d broken the news. Even now, she was leaning heavily on me and Aurora to make it through the funeral.

But by far, Dumbledore was the most affected, and the most willing and able to speak through his grief.

“Lost, never to be forgotten. Gone, but never apart. On to the next great adventure. Young Ginny Weasley… I’m sorry, truly sorry. I couldn’t do enough. It is always another dagger in this old heart of mine to fail a student, a child entrusted to my care,” Dumbledore spoke with pain clear in his tone, his bearing, his very soul.

Even with his best efforts, the darkness that clung to Ginny had been too much to overcome. The void had staked an undue claim on her soul. All the greatest wizard of all could do was keep it from coming to collect.

He couldn’t defy death, though, not even Albus Dumbledore. Not me with my System, either. Ginny came back to us half-dead on arrival. Dumbledore did all he could, just as he promised. He made her passing peaceful and painless, but she passed all the same.

“This is a terrible thing,” Dumbledore continued quietly. “A truly terrible thing. The young dying before the old is unfortunately something I’ve seen much too often. It doesn’t get easier with experience. It shouldn’t, either. Each time, that failure reflects heavily upon me. Each time, I swear to do better. Each time… I fail…”

I’d never seen the old Headmaster so somber, so stricken, so shaken… The only reason he wasn’t a shell of himself was for everyone else who relied on him. He claimed failure, but he was still one of our rocks, our core pillars. I knew, and so must he, that if he collapsed, he’d take the rest of us down with him.

“But still I stand,” Dumbledore said, his voice and resolve rallying. “Still, I strive for a better tomorrow for each and every one of you. You are my charges, my responsibilities. For you, I will move heaven and earth and magic itself. Know that this tragedy will never lift from my old soul. Know that, though it weighs, it will never break me. Perhaps I ask too much… but please, don’t let it break you, either.”

It was a unifying, persevering sentiment. One we dearly needed right about now. Dumbledore and Hogwarts would outlast this tragedy, but we’d never forget. Not this.

Ginny was the only one we’d lost in this new world, after all. She was a martyr for Hogwarts in a very real way. Important in life, and even more so in death. Her death marked a fundamental shift in… well, everything. For all of our power here, all of our knowledge and experience, all of our unity, we’d never been invincible. But to be slapped in the face by that truth in such an awful way…?

It didn’t sting. It didn’t merely shock. It shattered. It was the kind of tragedy that emptied everyone it touched. The kind that struck you breathless for long, painful moments, gasping for air, gasping to make sense of an abruptly altered world. It was brutally grounding in the same way that hitting stone after a free fall was.

A beautiful young witch had been stolen from us. A student. A friend. A sister and aunt. Family — one of Lady Hogwarts’s few children in this new world. Each of us was precious. Everyone mattered. Now, even the castle grieved.

Ginny’s older brothers took the stand last. The Twins were just about broken, barely holding it together. Angelina and Alicia stood with them for support, holding their children, the next generation of Weasleys. The toddlers didn’t know what was going on, of course, but they could sense the mood in the air. Even if they didn’t understand, they could see the loss in all of us, but their own fathers most of all.

I couldn’t imagine their grief. They’d lost a sister. Their wives had lost a sister-in-law. Their toddling boys had lost an aunt. I think it was the last that stung the most.

The sight tore at my heartstrings. It led me to take growing Aries from Narcissa’s arms just to hold him close. He had more ‘aunts’ to lose, but even one was too much. None of my children would feel that loss, that absence, if I could help it.

True to form, though, the Twins insisted that Ginny’s funeral was a celebration of her life as much as it was a mourning for her death. They enlisted several people close to Ginny to ensure it was seen that way. Seven of us: both Twins, of course, Ron, Heather, Luna, Dumbledore, and me.

When they gave the signal, we gathered up happy memories of Ginny and let them loose upon the memorial. Seven Patronuses manifested in Ginny’s memory. The celebration of her life rolled over everyone gathered there. It dried some tears and intensified others. It cheered up and distracted the children. It exalted Ginny as she was, as we would always remember her. Then, we dismissed the Patronuses and did it all over again twice more.

A wizarding 21-gun salute. It was honestly an exhausting task for the seven of us. Not for the magic we used, but for the emotional toll of it. To manifest a Patronus in her memory, we couldn’t shy away from the reality of her loss. That just made the act as cathartic as it was exhausting, though.

Going forward, as all things must, I didn’t know what our world would now look like. Would this tragedy break us? It had a very real chance… Would it unite us further? I certainly hoped so… But there was also the chance of radicalization, lashing out at the world that had stolen from us. Or internal friction, as reactions greatly differed. Or isolation, locking ourselves away from the world so we couldn’t be hurt anymore.

I couldn’t say what the best course of action was from here. I don’t think anyone could. Any previous plans we had, any goals, any ongoing operations would have to be fundamentally altered to fit a Hogwarts that had now tasted loss. Whichever way we went, though, I knew Westeros wouldn’t be ready for witches and wizards playing for keeps…

IIIII

The resolution of our adventures in Oldtown was both anti-climactic and climactic in the most painful of ways. Ginny’s death had tainted that last day there something fierce. When Ron, Heather, and I stormed our way into the core of that darkest of days, we finished things without any real fight. To the point that, I knew, we’d actually frightened our own allies and companions.

A whole city had rallied to push back the cultists’ falling night. But just three people had finished that fight, all on our own. We’d carved a terrible tear through the doors of the Hightower and then down into its depths. The number of bodies we left behind in that tear easily matched the bodies on the surface.

The three of us were the deadliest fighters on that dark day. It wasn’t a contest. Not even close. Not with my battle magic beforehand and the righteous rage that descended over Ron and Heather after Ginny fell.

Still, it galled me that I couldn’t put the Remnant beneath the Hightower down for good. Luna, Marwyn, and Bran were our most astrally sensitive minds. If there was a way to kill it, they should’ve been able to divine or prophesize or even just feel it out a bit. They claimed it couldn’t be killed by any purely earthly means.

My, Hermione, and Dumbledore’s best efforts to look further into the matter confirmed that. The Remnant was a paradoxical turducken — a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an eldritch paradox.

Everything we saw from it in the physical world wasn’t really there. Except for the parts that were. And the parts that weren’t all over again. Diagnostic spells put it partially shifted between the physical world and the astral realm and something beyond, with all of the horrifying implications that entailed.

To make matters worse, when we did manage to pin down a physical part of it long enough to test, the material proved to be very much impossible. Both dense as sin, and uncomprehensibly massless. Supersolid and plasma and time crystal a hair away from absolute zero, all in one reality-breaking state of matter.

And the less I thought about the Remnant’s magical properties, the better… Nothing should be that magically-saturated and still hungry at the same time…

We even got Aurora and Septima on the magic-mirror-line to consult and confirm our impossible results. They’d been uniquely horrified, morbidly intrigued, and about as ‘in-their-depth’ as the rest of us (that is to say, not at all).

The Remnant wouldn’t even notice a nuke going off right in front of it, but according to our astral experts and Dumbledore’s musings, a more conceptual weapon — say, a magic sword forged from a piece of it (cough Dawn cough) — would kill it dead in an instant. Which… yeah, unfortunately, that tracked from a magi-logical point of view.

Just initially researching it was doing wonders for my System, though. As did the rest of our short but frantic time in Oldtown, really.

< Magic >

< +3 to Dark Arts, +4 to Transfiguration, +5 to Magic Theory, +5 to DADA, +5 to Arithmancy, +8 to Potter’s Clay, +10 to Wanded Magic, +10 to Divination, +12 to Astronomy >

< Dark Arts 82+3=85/100, Transfiguration 76+4=80/100, Magic Theory 105+5=110/+++, DADA 77+5=82/100, Arithmancy 73+5/78/100, Potter’s Clay 38+8=46/100, Wanded Magic 90+10=100/100, Divination 46+10=56/100, Astronomy 48+12=60/100 >

Of those increases, Transfiguration/Potter’s Clay, Magic Theory, Arithmancy, Divination, and Astronomy (I tried not to think about that last one as much as I could) came almost solely from the short time I spent researching the Remnant. Impossible enigmas got impossible results, it seemed.

The rest came from here and there throughout our Oldtown adventure. Like the big one, Wanded Magic, coming from all the very good, very taxing work I’d been doing with my Weirwood staff. Being able to use wide-scale battle magic and then forcing the Remnant back to sleep through it and the Old Gods paid dividends.

Most importantly, though, Wanded Magic had reached the 100-threshold. And with that, like with Magic Theory, came an Authority from the System.

< Discipline Maxed: Wanded Magic! Discipline cap unlocked: Wanded Magic 100/+++. Authority Granted… >

< Wanded Magic Authority: To Focus is to Manifest Sovereignty >

< You have mastered the use of a magical focus to enforce your will upon the world. Now, with such a focus in your hand, all of your magicks carry more weight. Your magical workings will naturally leap past the league of being merely ‘wrought’ upon the world. Instead, they will reign supreme. Sovereign. With ease, they will become real, as if they’ve always been. Or, with equal ease, they will become nothing, as if never to be at all. Through your magical focuses, the world and Magic itself are eager to cede to your will. Perhaps a bit too eager… >

… Just like the Authority for Magic Theory, it was a game-changing boon. Not only did it make magic easier to enact through a magical focus, it made the magic that I did enact much, much more potent. Perhaps too potent, as the Authority’s text warned.

It was the difference between a First-Year student’s initial ventures into magic and the work of a master in their field. The difference between the most basic transfiguration and the unique magic of Heather’s bloodline. Every magic I infused it into would spring into being with its own history as far as the world was concerned. Or erase the same. For example, even a simple cheering charm now carried the sort of metaphysical weight and momentum that would make it impossible to fail or be denied. That cheering charm would be cast, was being cast, and had always been cast…

It wasn’t just a guarantee of my magic cast by focus. It just was (and ‘would’ and ‘had already’)…

Compared to that, every other bit of progress I’d seen in Oldtown was always going to fall short.

< Combat >

< +4 to Tactics, +8 to Attack >

< Tactics 83+4=87/100, Attack 70+8=78/100 >

< Social >

< +2 to Persuasion, +6 to Rulership, +12 to Notoriety, +18 to Influence >

< 56+2=58/100, Rulership 40+6=46/100, Notoriety 59+12=71/100, Influence 36+18=54/100 >

< Creation >

< +3 to Ritual Magic, +6 to Wards >

< Ritual Magic 71+3=74/100, Wards 59+6=65/100 >

The increases to Notoriety and Influence certainly tried, though. Just what happened, it seemed, when you were at the forefront of pacifying an important institution, rallying a city, unleashing smiting battle magic, and putting a starspawned thing as far in the ground as it was going to get without a magical sword specifically meant to kill it. Some of the Notoriety might’ve also leaked over onto me from Dumbledore’s best impression of Moses…

There was also the completion of the quest that triggered when I’d stepped into Oldtown.

< Quest Completed: There is, in Fact, War in Oldtown >

< Rewards: +3 to Magic Theory, +5 to Runes, +15 to Influence, New Title: Hidden Maester, Future aid for yourself and Hogwarts from incredibly influential Westerosi institutions. >

< Magic Theory 110+3/113/+++, Runes 87+5=92/100, Influence 54+15=69/100 >

My Influence in and over Westeros was going to be looking good for a long time coming. It made sense, what with Hogwarts placing an ally in control of the Citadel, the aid we’d given Houses Hightower and Tyrell, and how we (and the whole ‘Darkest Day’ situation) helped sway the Faith’s schism to a more preferable opinion on magic. It was hard for even the most traditional Faithful to keep railing against magic and miracles when they used it to push back foreign faiths and unnatural darkness…

Of course, my progress was still a bitter reward for what we’d lost in Oldtown. For Ginny, I’d trade it all away in an instant. Hogwarts’ first fatality wasn’t something that weighed lightly, especially not as I’d been leading when it happened. I felt that the responsibility for Ginny’s death fell on my shoulders. I was sure Heather, Ron, and Dumbledore felt the same. I don’t know if any of us would ever fully forgive ourselves.

In the wake of Oldtown’s Darkest Day, we’d left our allies to clean up most of the mess there. Marwyn, Sarella, the Tyrells, and Prince Renly were quick to give their condolences. Willas and Margaery even wished to attend the service to pay their respects. I thanked them, of course, but it was a time for Hogwarts and Hogwarts alone.

So while we took our leave early, we left Oldtown in recovery. Marwyn would have his hands full wrangling the Citadel. Willas and Margaery were busy putting the city more fully to rights. They had to coordinate with their mother’s family and the rest of the city. The quarantine wards had to be lifted, and any stragglers from the foreign cults needed to be tried (and executed, ‘cause there was only one reasonable outcome to those trials…). Additionally, Renly had been taking a stern hand to the Faith, wary of the potential for a rising Faith Militant.

In all, the work for Oldtown had barely begun. The city was at peace once more, and the day was won, but things couldn’t simply return to normal. Our allies were good ones, though, competent and brought closer to us by what we’d been through together. I was loath to leave them completely.

After the service, after the mourning… I intended to rejoin the Tyrells, at least. Margaery was an almost official member of the coven, and I liked the rest of her family, besides. That made the Tyrells some of our closest allies in Westeros. Leaving them out to dry didn’t sit well with me.

Before all of this, the intention had been to go from Oldtown to King’s Landing. The Starks were also allies, and I imagined Ned would need the help there. And with the varied reactions from the rest of Hogwarts in the wake of Ginny’s death, I had a feeling that being in the core of changing times would be necessary.

Best to be in a position to react if those internal whispers I’d been hearing of a more… proactive… stance in Westeros came to fruition. My fears of Hogwarts’ isolation weren’t looking likely, but radicalization…? That was still a very real possibility.

Hogwarts didn’t react well to losing one of our own. Some were already talking about joining Neville’s crusade out east. Others wanted to focus their efforts on Westeros alone, securing our place at home from any danger. For now, the whispers were somewhat listless, without any actionable direction. But I felt like they only needed a single galvanizing figure to rally behind. 

The frontrunner for that was rather obvious in my eyes. I took the time to sit down with him the day after Ginny’s funeral. That conversation… didn’t quite go as I planned it.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

Ron blinked slowly and stiffly. Still in shock, it seemed. He was distant, for sure, and I’d found him sitting on the castle’s roof, just blankly staring into the distance. Even as I sat next to him, he didn’t seem to realize someone had joined him.

“Something…” He muttered to himself. “What even is there…?”

“Ron?” I asked again.

Slowly, he turned to me and blinked again, “Atlas…? Atlas, ‘lo. What’s up?”

“You, mate,” I sighed. “People are worried. I don’t want to see you do something you might regret.”

“Regret? I already regret too much,” Ron laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “For everything I’ve tried, everything I’ve failed… I have to repent.”

“You don’t have to do anything except grieve in a healthy way, Ron,” I cautioned. “No one’s expecting anything from you. Take it easy, yeah? Figure out what you want to do next.”

“Something…” Ron murmured. “Yeah, something… But what?”

“Talking to your brothers would be a start,” I suggested. “They’re hurting too, mate. After that? Anything that you feel helps you cope with loss.”

Ron was quiet for a long, worrying moment, “… That thing is still alive down there, isn’t it?”

“The Remnant…?” Warily, I asked for clarification. “It… is. The most I could do was put it back to sleep. But-…”

Ron cut me off with the first bit of emotion I’d seen from him since Ginny’s death, a furious scowl, a snarl, “It’s still alive…! It doesn’t deserve to exist! And the shitefucks who propped it up! I’ll tear them to bloody pieces! I’ll annihilate them!”

I should’ve expected the rage, but I was taken aback by the vehemence of it for a second, “… Ron, no one expects you to-…”

“And every other dark, cruel faith from this twisted world!” Ron continued. “I’ll destroy them all! I swear, they won’t claim another soul, another life, another sister as long as I live!”

“Revenge is all well and good, Ron. Deserved, even. But going in like this will just see you hurt yourself first,” I warned.

“You’re right,” Ron nodded, but it was clear he was only hearing half of my words. “Revenge is all well and good. Deserved. Justified.”

Fuck. “At the very least, don’t go all in on your own, Ron.”

“Back up would be helpful…” Simmering down, Ron hesitated. “Does… Does anyone else even care…?”

I cut that thought off before it could take root in his mind, “Ron, everyone cares. The whole castle is mourning with you. Even if some of us don’t necessarily approve of what you do next, we’ll always have your back.”

Calmer and more resolute, Ron nodded, “Then, I want to see Ginny avenged. I’m going to. I won’t rest until every dark faith in Westeros is nothing more than the dust they worship. They killed my sister. I’ll kill their gods and their twisted fellows.”

I wouldn’t deny him that goal… Couldn’t. That statement went hard enough to fan the flames of vengeance inside me, too. And he was already setting his path in stone. So instead of arguing for caution and disapproval I didn’t fully feel, I decided to help his vengeful quest.

“For the Remnant, you’re going to need House Dayne and their sword, Dawn. As far as we could tell, it’s the only weapon that can kill that thing. For other dark faiths, you might want to coordinate with Neville’s crusade in Essos and the ‘Puff Cartel here-…” I advised, looking to give him all the tools he needed and all of the information I had.

If he was going to do this (and he was), I was going to make damn sure he was successful. Ron listened closely as I essentially briefed him for his coming quest. It was the most life he’d shown in days… My conversation with him was certainly productive. Just not in the way I’d initially intended.

… I didn’t regret a thing, but I was almost certain I’d set in motion the very wizarding crusade I was most worried about.

IIIII

— The Stranger —

ITS newest charge was an interesting one/a confusing one/a strange one. Not truly meant for ITS halls/ITS heavens/ITS hells, but fallen into its arms for now, all the same. She was also more talkative than most, not nearly as terrified or melancholy or broken as IT was used to. The company was… nice/annoying/different.

“I’m not sure I like all of this crying they’re doing over me… But I suppose it’s better than the alternative with no one crying. You sure I can’t pop down for just a sec and show them I’m, like, fine-ish?”

IT shook its head. A score of mortal strands were cut with the motion. A score and some more were woven into being. Still, ITS refusal remained the same.

“Well, I guess you’re the boss here, boss-uhh… well, I can’t really call you ‘boss-man’, can I?” Ginerva ‘Ginny’ Weasley shrugged.

Again, IT shook ITS head. This time, amusement colored the gesture. Or as close to amusement as IT could manage. IT imagined the ‘emotion’ would send most mortals running/breaking/enlightening on the spot. But not the Lady Castle/Hogwarts/Magic’s children.

“Heh, you ain’t so bad, you know? Call me Ginny,” Giner-… Ginny said, returning ITS amusement.

IT… had never been given this sort of chance. IT didn’t talk to ITS charges. IT didn’t talk to anyone, not even ITS other faces. Perhaps something of them leaked through, however, for IT didn’t mind Ginny’s attempts at conversation. IT expressed as much as best IT could.

Outside ITS arms, life upon life of good company played out. Mortal examples of a mortal concept that IT borrowed. Ginny seemed to understand.

“Yeah,” She nodded. “Everyone needs a bit of socialization now and again. Everything, too, I suppose, if it applies to you as well. If I’m bothering you, though, feel free to tell me.”

IT wasn’t bothered by the novel opportunity.

“You’re a good listener,” Ginny chuckled. “If others don’t see that, that’s on them. This is kinda what I need most right about now.”

IT gave a nod of understanding. A life and all its connections unraveled. IT shuffled the soul off to here or there, heaven or hell. But the usual duties didn’t distract IT from ITS temporary charge.

“It’s just… It’s abrupt, alright?” Ginny sighed. “I always thought I’d have more time. I think everyone does. Now, I’m leaving behind so much unfinished business.”

There was never enough time. There was always too much. All business was unfinished, IT expressed. Especially hers. IT was just a stop on her journey. Soon, she would be where she belonged. The Lady had laid HER claim and asked very nicely. IT would pass Ginny’s soul along in short order.

“Yeah? How does that work?” Ginny asked. “The whole ‘Divine Lady Hogwarts’ business? I’ve always known she was real, an instrumental part of all of our lives… but never this proactive. Certainly not claiming souls and setting up what sounds like her own afterlife.”

Complexity… IT couldn’t express the whole scale or its balance, new or old. Not to a mortal mind. Even the Lady’s children were unable to handle that without fundamentally fracturing. IT did not wish to do that to ITS temporary Ginny.

“Must’ve been weird, though, huh?” Ginny mused. “A whole magical castle just… showing up…?”

And changing everything, IT nodded. The Lady was a catalyst. A leaping spark here and there and everywhere. SHE brought new blood. New magic. There was a reason IT differentiated from the new balance and the old.

“So… she helped you?” Ginny asked for clarification. “Revitalized this whole world?”

A cycle, IT expressed. A wax. A wane. Over and over, throughout countless ages. The Lady accelerated such, but it would’ve come regardless. More important was what the Lady brought with HER. The initial tidal wave of magic was only half of HER contributions to the balance. The rest was a shifting/shaking/shattering of constants in the cycle. Not good, not bad, simply different/new/paradigm-altering.

IT was exposed to the Lady’s novelty. As were ITS other faces, and ITS peers. IT searched for a mortal analogy…

“Like a blind man seeing for the first time?” Ginny offered.

Close, but not quite, IT considered. More… a seeing man given those glass spectacles of hers. Clarity, that gave way to details IT had never noticed… A blind man saw nothing. IT now saw more of what IT already knew existed, through a new lens. Similarly, the Conflagration must’ve found new fuel to burn, and the Glacier must’ve found new ground to creep over. And the Lady tied it all together, thus IT and all of ITS peers gave HER the respect SHE was due.

“Even R’hllor and the Great Other, huh…?” Ginny muttered. “What about the… abyssal void, or whatever… that almost claimed me?”

FOREIGN, IT stressed! All of ITS peers knew the same. An unnaturally dark forest beyond the trappings of everything IT knew. A pit past the edges of the world. Predatory nothingness from without. Even the Glacier, anathema to ITS humanity and their warmth, would recoil from those alien ways. The Glacier was Cold, but it was still something.

“Ah… Cool,” Ginny nodded. “Cool, cool, cool. Glad you pulled me out of it, then.”

But of course, IT expressed. She had prayed to IT and IT specifically. Few dared, few dreamed. How could IT not take notice? She might’ve been claimed wholeheartedly by the Lady, but IT bore a… soft spot… for those who would acknowledge IT in truth.

Ginny laughed, “Yeah, it’s kinda mean that your faith doesn’t acknowledge you much. Like, I get it, from a mortal perspective, but having met you like this, I can’t help but dislike that practice.”

IT shrugged. Others acknowledged IT more fully. And ignored or acknowledged, IT was still there. IT was still real. At the end of each mortal life, IT did not discriminate. 

“The end, yeah…” Ginny sighed forlornly.

IT hesitated. IT couldn’t help her there. IT wouldn’t, even if IT could. But… perhaps IT didn’t need to completely break the rules of mortality to soothe ITS temporary charge. For now, Ginny was ITS… And the Lady would soon take her soul, so IT hardly had to hold to ITS usual standards.

Beyond ITS arms, the focus narrowed. A service for the dead, for her. A conversation with family she left behind. And all of the changes she wrought after death, in her fellow children of the Lady, in strangers she would never meet, in friends she’d made, and in the very family she left behind.

IT could not say what the Lady had in store for her. But IT could show she mattered, even now. Especially now.

Ginny’s answering smile was small, but IT counted the expression and the sense of some closure as a win.

Still, her murmured reactions were mournful, “Ron… I’ve never seen him like that. He’s gonna throw his whole bloody life away for me… Damned fool…”

Life needs purpose. Death begets purpose more often than not. IT did not understand Ginny’s worries, cocking ITS head.

Ginny sighed, “It’s just… I want him to live. Really live. Have some fun in his life. Settle down with a nice girl who can keep his idiocy in check, though he’s doing a much better job of that himself these days. Pop out some nieces and nephews for me to spoil… Not… Not devote everything he has to some vengeful crusade.”

A worthy cause, IT expressed. A push against all that is FOREIGN, all that is inhuman. Some of ITS faces would favor him for it, just as the Lady did and always would. Ginny worried, but her kin had made his choice.

“Suppose there’s not much I can do about it… But maybe Lady Hogwarts will let me pop down as a castle ghost every once and a while to thank and slap some sense into him,” Ginny chuckled.

IT felt stirrings from the Lady in question. A gentle request. Secretly, IT passed along Ginny’s half-serious wish, and the Lady giggled and clapped. The least IT could do for-… IT did not have the words or concepts to describe ITS novel fancy for ITS temporary charge…

Wondering at the novelty, IT idly nudged Ginny. Her time with IT was at an end. The Lady would hold her from here.

Ginny smiled, “Yeah, I can feel her calling. This… This has been surprisingly fun. Thanks, Stranger. Thanks for everything… No idea if it’s even possible for you, but, uh… I’d gladly call you a friend. Maybe I can come visit sometime…?”

… IT would like that. Why would IT like that…? A friend? A friend of the Stranger? IT barely understood… but IT dearly wanted to.

IT passed ITS temporary charge into welcoming arms. The Lady seemed amused by ITS current confusion. SHE gave IT a pat on the head/a laughing hug/a little nudge of approval. Again, IT barely understood. Again… IT dearly wanted to.

For the first time, IT wished to be MORE, just like the Lady was, if only to speak again with ITS new friend…

IIIII

Bonus Pics (sauce below)