[Friday 25th April 2009]

It was Friday lunchtime which usually meant pepperoni pizza and chips. Mmmm…and tomato ketchup and a big glass of pumpkin juice. Today, though, it didn’t. Thanks to Gabriella’s bad organisation, she’d ended up in a professor’s office for an hour, writing an essay that should have been handed in the week before. Who honestly cared about the breeding patterns of blast ended skrewts? Hell, how could anyone write a whole 20inch essay about them?

With the essay left half completed, Gabriella had discovered that her professor did in fact have a very tiny heart hidden in there somewhere and had let her finally go for lunch. This was of course after much moaning had taken place about how Gabby was obviously going to fade away to nothing and die if she didn’t get the much needed pizza. It was child abuse of the worst kind!

In a huff, Gabby marched from the slave worker’s office and into the castle, her black robes flapping wildly behind her and her face screwed up in irritation. They better have some lunch left for her or she’d find herself getting very ratty that afternoon. When in the oversized entrance hall, Gabby stormed past the students mingling, towards the great hall.

To her horror, the four house tables were covered in empty plates and leftovers. A rumble came up from her belly and Gabby pulled a face, placing a hand on this before she swung around, walking into someone.

“Watch where the hell you’re going, mate.” She snapped in an uncharacteristically mean manner. Hunger did strange things to a person. Starvation even more. Maybe her skirt wouldn’t fit in the morning! Maybe she’d wake up as simply a sack of bones!

Things had gone fairly well with Knox, all things considered.  The Headmaster was as warmly accomodating as ever, if also just as cheerily, recklessly optimistic.  A bit more in the loop now, Jason's emerald eyes swept the familiar sights of Hogwarts, imagining the stationed Hitwizards and the invisibly watchful Aurors who would be keeping an eye on things.  He expected not disruption from the usual festivities, but since it was the tenth anniversay...and since Kingstreet was now free...

MacDonell shook his head.  He would not allow himself to dwell on that, it was over and done.  Besides, the woman wouldn't try anything in a castle full of Aurors, a few of whom had served before the Second War, and most of those who might be willing to let their wands slip...

He shook his head again.  No.

All would be well, and not simply because Knox Greyfriar's enthusiasm was contagious even to the battle-hardened veteran Auror.  After ten years, there was a feeling of rightness about it.

Lost in these thoughts, surfacing to the real world only now and then to spot a good place for a guard, MacDonell paid little attention to where he was going, hoping his clunking staff would serve as a herald of his approach.  As such, he was more than a bit surprised when a young girl appeared from nowhere, crashing into him with enough force that he stepped back with his right leg to catch his balance.  Wincing in pain, he didn't realize he had moved to defend himself until his wand was pointed between her eyes.

Reflexes, like old habits, died hard.

"Watch where the hell you’re going, mate."

"And ye, lass!" MacDonell said irritably, lowering his wand a bit.  Then he looked the girl straight on, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Kayl..." he began, stunned, then shook his head.  What a foolish thought.  "No, my mistake."

But the similarity was so pronounced...  "Who are ye, lass?"

Had someone normally have had the outright gall to point a wand between her eyes, Gabriella would have at least stepped back. Hell, she’d have been pretty scared if some stranger pointed it at her. Today, however, this act only made her more angry. She didn’t think about the person behind the wand wanting to kill her, or hell, even the wand itself. Instead she thought that this guy was a rude so and so and deserved to have her to mouth off at him about just what she thought right then.

"And ye, lass!"

Oh great, a Scottish idiot…Gabby’s eyes shot up to the obvious intruder within the castle. They were now dark beads glaring directly into his. She found herself going quite red in the face and her hand reached into the robe pocket for her wand. How dare he shout at her! He got in her way!

"Kayl..."

The eyes that had a moment ago been black dots widened generously as she stared at the man suspiciously, her mouth open slightly. It had processed very quickly what he’d been about to say and poor Gabby didn’t know whether to get angrier or be surprised. So she just stared.

"No, my mistake.Who are ye, lass?"

‘Nosy wart picking….’ It had been decided for her, finally. Be angry. He’d just bumped into her, probably more interested in going to fetch his pension from the post office in Hogsmeade, almost called her by her mother’s name and then, then asked who she was. She was supposed to ask that one!

“I’m your worst nightmare, mate.” She stated, not quite realising how daft that did in fact sound. She was hungry. Allowances had to be made! Her brain simply couldn’t function properly without food. “You don’t go barging into me like some bumbling troll and then call me some name that you’re not worthy to speak. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Adept at reading people by their faces after decades of interrogations, Jason could see the race of emotions running through the young Gryffindor's mind.  However, like a great many people who wound up on the business end of the former Auror's wand, she seemed to settle on rage.  He lowered his wand slowly, though he kept it in hand; the girl seemed perfectly capable of attacking him with her bare hands at the moment.

"I’m your worst nightmare, mate."

Jason raised an eyebrow.  She couldn't quite compare to a resurrected Voldemort with an equally reborn Dolohov at his right hand, but perhaps worst nightmares were of a tamer variety these days.  He said nothing, allowing his skeptical look to speak for itself.

"You don’t go barging into me like some bumbling troll and then call me some name that you’re not worthy to speak."

This was far more intriguing than the nightmare nonsense, and the emerald eyes narrowed in consideration.  "Och aye?  And what makes me unwo--"

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"A guest of the Headmaster," MacDonell returned dryly.  She wasn't a Slytherin, so that bit would hopefully improve her demeanor.  Studying her for a long moment, Jason saw the resemblance not less, but now more.  She had had a daughter, he knew, but did the ages match up?  It seemed close, but also such a stretch...

"And a former Auror, I might add."  A test of the waters.  When he spoke the name of the job, he watched her expression carefully.

"A guest of the Headmaster,"

“Oh.” That somewhat left the young Gryffindor lost for words. She was clever enough to realise that shouting anymore at someone Greyfriar had invited to the castle was a stupid move. It didn’t mean she was about to be all lovely and friendly to the guy. She’d simply hold her tongue so no expletives emerged from her mouth. The last thing she wanted was another detention.

The wand that had a moment ago emerged from her pocket and was slowly being raised to point at the ‘guest’, was once again being lowered. Curses and jinxes were far from a good idea as well. Besides, Gabby’s aim seriously needed some work. If only she could have been like her mother! But why had this guy nearly called her that name?

"And a former Auror, I might add."

Gabriella then went very still and in the now quietness of the hall, her stomach could be heard rumbling. Her spare hand was placed on this as she frowned, and her wand hand returned the wand to her pocket. There was no way she’d be a match for some ex auror.

With a few things starting to click into place, Gabby’s frown deepened and the redness in her cheeks evened out. She could calm down just as quickly as she could get murderous. That had definitely come from her mother.

“What were you going to call me?” she carefully asked the man that was presently scrutinising her.

Unsurprisingly, the mention of Knox eased his young companion's defensive attitude greatly.  At some level Jason would normally find this amusing; without the title, Knox himself could put very people at unease, and even as Headmaster he was far too jovial to command quite the level of awe Dumbledore or McGonagall had had.

But for the moment, MacDonell was far too lost in the possibilities here to be diverted.

"What were you going to call me?"

He saw what he had expected and more.  Barely conscious of the movement, Jason returned his own wand to his pocket, clutching his staff with both hands and leaning one shoulder against it.  He fixed the girl with a penetrating gaze for a moment longer, but the ease with which she had switched emotions confirmed it.  He had seen that very change of expression before...

"I was going to call you Kayleigh," he said quietly, his expression softening, "because ye look so very like your mother."

He had to search his memory briefly for the name.  "Ye're Gabriella, aren't you?"

"I was going to call you Kayleigh,"

Gabriella’s heart started beating at an incredible pace and her face turned white. This guy knew her mum? Why had she never met him before? Why had she been so idiotically rude to him?

Then he said she looked just like her and a small smirk tried to grace her features. Gabby loved hearing things like that. She’d seen pictures of her mum, had loads of them hidden away and one of the family on her bedside table. Her mum had been gorgeous and Gabby thought that she was just some short, frizzy haired teenager with sticky out ears. Kayleigh Cox hadn’t been that.

"Ye're Gabriella, aren't you?"

The hand that had before had the wand ready to attack was now nervously reached out to shake. “Gabriella Roslyn Dagon. Quiddich player extraordinaire and proud daughter of an auror.” The young girl smiled briefly before glancing down.

“So…how did you know my mum?” After a moment, Gabby frowned again. Did this guy know? Was he some friend from years ago that had never heard what had happened? “You do know she’d not…around now, don’t you?” She asked carefully.

Jason watched Gabriella's face drain of color, and he was secretly pleased.  He took no pleasure in her discomfort, but the fact that she reacted so strongly showed that her mother, gone for so long, was not forgotten in the girl's heart.  No small feat, given that the poor lass presumably had to live with Dagon now...

MacDonell kept the grimace carefully off his face.

"Gabriella Roslyn Dagon. Quiddich player extraordinaire and proud daughter of an Auror."

Shaking her hand with a friendly smile, Jason nodded back calmly, hoping to put her at ease.  "Jason Darius MacDonell.  Retired Auror and Wizengamot member, among other things."  He smirked for a moment, then added in a quieter voice, "And ye should be proud of your mother, she was a hero."

"So…how did you know my mum?  You do know she’d not…around now, don’t you?”

For a moment, Jason's composed expression vanished.  It did not fracture, as it sometimes did when he was caught off guard by a disturbing thought or comment, it simply dissolved, gone as if it had never been there.  For that instant, his expression was agonized, eyes closed, lips pressed tightly together over gritted teeth as if someone had just stabbed him.  He took a breath in, and it shook.

Then he breathed out smoothly, his expression cleared, and when his eyes opened, the emerald was glittering and cool, collected once more.

"Yes," he said, and though his voice was quiet, it remained level.  "Yes I know.  Your mother was an Auror with me.  Exceptionally talented, too, a particularly gifted witch.  When Lord Voldemort overthrew this country, she helped my wife and her cousin and I defend the island of Avalon, and save Muggleborns and their families."

"We came here together, the four of us, to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts," he added, and he kept from wincing again only with difficulty.  He had no need to add the final detail.  Four of Avalon's defenders had come to fight, but only three had walked away.

"Jason Darius MacDonell.  Retired Auror and Wizengamot member, among other things."

“You’re in one of my history books.” Gabby muttered withdrawing her hand.

"Yes,"

That was about as blunt as a sledge hammer. Gabby’s frown deepened as her hands retreated back into her robe pockets.

As MacDonell explained his and her mum’s contribution in the war, the young girl didn’t really know how to react. She loved to hear all sorts of things about her mum, but didn’t expect it from someone she’d just a moment ago been insulting and shouting at. Hell, she’d barely heard anything but the severly diluted stories her Dad had told her. And her Dad had never mentioned a Jason MacDonell.

Gabriella found that while the man spoke, she studied his face and noticed he obviously struggled with it. She bit her lip and glanced at the floor, suddenly feeling sick at the mention of the battle.

“You knew her well? My Dad’s never mentioned you.” The young Gryffindor couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. Sure, she’d read books about this Avalon place and some MacDonell guy, but what was to say this guy was…well, some sick horrible person pretending to have known her mum. She wouldn’t have put it past some horrible Slytherin sending him to get her back for the History of Magic lesson catastrophe. She still had a burn on her arm from that! Merlin knew what some Slytherin with malicious intention could send her way.

"You’re in one of my history books."

"Positively, I hope.  Amazing what Azkaban will do for you," Jason smirked, setting his right hand over his left on his staff.  There had been far too many combatants at the Battle of Hogwarts for any but the foremost to be written about, but he had acquired a bit of a reputation for leading the charge at the Azkaban Uprising.  Of course, he might just as easily have been a footnote in the section concerning Auror use of Unforgivables in the First War; that prospect was less comforting.

"You knew her well? My Dad’s never mentioned you."

MacDonell's lip curled disdainfully.  So, Dagon hadn't seen fit the mention the people who had fought beside Kayleigh all those month, the ones who had been devastated by her death.  Well, perhaps there was something else he hadn't mentioned... "I should think not.  I don't make the habit of associating with Death Eaters."

"But yes, I knew Kayleigh as well as anyone," he went on, his expression relaxing.  He actually managed to smile.  "We didn't get on all that well at first, of course -- bit too much like each other, I think.  But she became -- well, ye might say a protege of mine.  Though I learned a thing or two from her, she was the stealthiest Auror I've ever known."

He sighed, looking down for a moment.  When he spoke, he did not raise his eyes.  "She was very powerful, and extremely brave.  A good friend," he finished, and his voice sounded strained, "whom I miss very much."

"I should think not.  I don't make the habit of associating with Death Eaters."

Within an instant, Gabriella felt protective over her family and her frown turned into a glare. Her dark eyes narrowed, burning into MacDonell’s. “He isn’t a Death Eater.” She replied indignantly. Quickly, her head span around to see if anyone had heard his comment. She didn’t want people talking about her in that way.

Very few people knew about her Dad’s…past. He’d probably only told her since he’d had no choice. The mark on his arm wasn’t hidden all the time at home and she’d asked a hell of a lot of questions after starting at Hogwarts and learning these things. Besides, her Dad had been helping the good guys. That’s what he’d told her. It was Uncle Gabe that had to be watched out for. But he’d done time for that! And he was a better person now!

"But yes, I knew Kayleigh as well as anyone,"

As he continued, Gabby’s arms folded over her stomach, her eyes not moving from his. They were now harder than they’d been a moment ago and her face looked sourer with her lips pursed tightly. Poor Gabs tended to look like she was sucking on a lemon when irritated with someone.

"She was very powerful, and extremely brave.  A good friend, whom I miss very much."

Gabby’s eyes finally softened as they flashed down. “If she was so damn powerful, how was she killed?” She looked up, her eyes filling up slowly. “Why are you and your friends still alive and she isn’t?” Why couldn’t it have been her mum standing there in front of her instead?

Now Gabby’s face furrowed as she tried to piece together what he’d said. “You’re down in my history books as some hero, some guy who helped save the world. Professor Greyfriar uses you as some fantastic example of this. Yet you couldn’t even save who you call a close friend? My Mum.” It was at this point that the bells started ringing, signalling the end of lunch, but Gabby wasn’t about to let this drop and go to her lesson right now.

"He isn’t a Death Eater."

"No?" Jason asked calmly, following her glance to make sure they were isolated.  Drawing his wand and flicking it at the doors of the Great Hall, he said, "Muffliato.  Well, I suppose there aren't any Death Eaters anymore.  But look at his arm some time, lass, Lord Voldemort didn't give out the Dark Mark as a party favor."

Jason had hated Dagon, and with a passion.  The man was a coward, bowing to the commands of the Dark Lord rather than having the courage to die as better wizards had done.  This alone was enough to inspire contempt, but he had put himself beyond Jason's forgiveness forever in joining the Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts.  For all MacDonell knew, it was Dagon who had fired the Killing Curse that took Kayleigh.

He would not share that particular speculation with Gabriella, especially given the intensely angry look she was glaring his way.

"If she was so damn powerful, how was she killed?  Why are you and your friends still alive and she isn’t?"

MacDonell was wrenched from his reverie, and he stared at his companion for a long moment.

"You’re down in my history books as some hero, some guy who helped save the world. Professor Greyfriar uses you as some fantastic example of this. Yet you couldn’t even save who you call a close friend? My Mum."

Clenching his teeth, the former Auror tightening his grip on his staff until the wood groaned in his left hand.  "Do you imagine for an instant," he began coldly, his voice angrier than he had intended, "that I don't wish it had been me who died and Kayleigh who lived?  That I would not have intervened if I could have?"

Taking a deep breath to steady his temper, he went on.  "We waited for her, Aurora, Robin, and I, so we could all go in together.  But when we got here it was a nightmare, a war zone.  We got separated, each from the others.  When I saw her..." He paused, forcibly bottling the memories in his mind; the jet of green light, the crumpled form, his own raging scream of denial that had drowned out the giant that stepped in the way of his retaliation...

"I saw her fall, but no one was close enough to help," he said with a sigh.  "She was fighting two Death Eaters at once.  She finished one of them, but the other got her.  The Killing Curse.  It can nay be blocked, and she couldn't move in time."

It was with a measure of surprise that Jason noticed his voice had diminished to a throaty whisper; he had not discussed this since he had reported to Kingsley, ten years before.  "I went to take a shot at her attacker, of course, but one of Voldemort's giants got in the way.  By the time it had gone, everyone had repositioned.  And then the Dark Lord called off the fight..."

He found himself unable to add the last detail, that he had carried Kayleigh back to the Great Hall himself.  He looked over Gabriella's shoulder, and for a moment his mind's eye could see it as it had looked that night, Kayleigh's body lying beside their comrade Nymphadora Tonks and her husband, Gustav Snark not far away.  So many lost...

"Well, I suppose there aren't any Death Eaters anymore.  But look at his arm some time, lass, Lord Voldemort didn't give out the Dark Mark as a party favour."

MacDonell’s suspicion of her Dad irritated Gabby and her body stiffened as he made out she didn’t know her own father. Felix angered her and made her furious, sure. He was the bayne of her life sometimes. But he was her Dad and she loved him. She knew he wouldn’t have done anything horrible like what those real Death Eaters did. Even if she said those things to wind him up.

“I’ve seen it actually. It’s hideous. That’s the price my Dad had to pay for helping the good guys.”

"Do you imagine for an instant that I don't wish it had been me who died and Kayleigh who lived?  That I would not have intervened if I could have?"

Gabby found herself shaking her head. She was torn between being angry or upset or angry and upset. However, the young girl was pushed one way with the ex-auror’s slowly building anger. The venom seething in his voice made her step back a little.

“No one cares for anyone that much. They only say it.”

It was then that MacDonell carried on and Gabriella was silenced by his words and the onset of emotions from the opposite end of the spectrum. Her lips parted slightly and her eyes filled up further at the direct mention of her mother’s dead body. Of the actual death in all its sick and twisted glory.

She winced slightly, the image of what she thought it had been like conjured and was now floating about in her mind’s eye. Her mother lying there, lifeless. Her tanned skin now pale like a ghost. She imagined her skin icy to the touch and her lips a light pink. The dark eyes void of anything but nothingness. At peace finally. But did the curse create a scar? Would her mum have been wounded? Would there have been blood?

"I went to take a shot at her attacker, of course, but one of Voldemort's giants got in the way.  By the time it had gone, everyone had repositioned.  And then the Dark Lord called off the fight..."

Gabby hadn’t noticed until this point that she was now biting her fingernails. They’d been nibbled down to the skin and if she’d not realised, she’d probably have continued. It was a nervous habit. She did it in an uncomfortable situation or when she was upset. Her Grandmother was forever berating her about it.

With her eyes now spilling the odd tear, Gab looked away and wiped them with her robe sleeve, smearing black mascara over her cheeks. “I wish she’d never gone.” She started to say, her voice choking slightly on the tears, but the anger at the situation was evident. “I wish she hadn’t tried to be some brave hero. I wish she’d stayed home with me and Dad and sat it out like any mother would!”

"I’ve seen it actually. It’s hideous. That’s the price my Dad had to pay for helping the good guys."

"Is that what he says he did?" Jason asked, his tone so heavily laden with skepticism that he might as well have conjured "LIES" in bright fiery letters over his head.  He might have gone on, but he reminded himself for the second time that it would be less than dignified for a forty-seven-year-old man to get into an argument with a teenage girl.

"No one cares for anyone that much. They only say it.”

MacDonell very nearly asked whether her father had told her that, but checked the reaction at the last second.  Instead, he said, "I'm sorry ye feel that way, lass, but it's nay something I'd say to be kind."

As Gabriella winced along with his own recollections, Jason wondered momentarily whether he had said too much.  But he doubted the girl had gotten much detail from her father about the battle, and she had a right to know.  And he knew from experience than wondering, lost in bitter, horrific imaginings, made the pain even worse.

When Gabriella wiped her eyes, Jason looked tactfully away, finding sudden and great interest in the knots of his wooden staff.  He could tell the difference between a mourner who would be comforted with attention and one who would take offense, and Dagon was clearly the latter.  Like her mother, he thought with a rueful smile.  Kayleigh, like Jason and Aurora, had always preferred her tough face except in moments of greatest agony.

Strange, then, that she should have produced such a moment herself, her bright eyes closed forever and unable to see the Auror and the bounty hunter kneeling on either side of her head in the Great Hall, holding hands, crying silently along with fifty other sets of loved ones.

"I wish she’d never gone.  I wish she hadn’t tried to be some brave hero. I wish she’d stayed home with me and Dad and sat it out like any mother would."

"Your mother was a hero precisely because she wasn't trying to be brave or famous or heroic," Jason said gently.  "She was a hero for the same reason all heroes are: because she did the right thing, without concern for herself.  She was a Muggleborn, I'm sure ye know, she had to watch the Ministry she had served fall under the control of the Dark Lord and persecute people like her.  She totally refused to hide and let others fight, because she knew we needed her help."

He sighed, frowning.  "That's how we came to be a team after the Ministry fell, ye see.  I went looking for her because I knew they'd be after her, and she came to help us smuggle Muggleborns and their families to Avalon.  The same reason she fought the Snatchers with us is the reason she fought here that night; she knew she could help, and she wanted to do everything she could."

"And she would be glad that ye can live life without the threat of Voldemort over your head."

The frown had not vanished.  Jason, Aurora, and Robin had all agreed to call for Kayleigh that night, after the Order had contacted them about the battle.  Since then, they had all wondered whether they should have left her out, but crushed by her death though he was, Jason knew very well that if they had left Kayleigh out, she would probably have killed him herself.

"Is that what he says he did?"

This man evidently didn’t like Felix Dagon and Gabby found herself wondering why. She wanted to know just what her Dad had done to justify such hatred. Or what this man thought he’d done. That was probably the case. An old man often jumped to conclusions. Especially when he was paranoid. Maybe he thought her Dad would set the dragons on him!

“She totally refused to hide and let others fight, because she knew we needed her help.”

With the use of her robe sleeve once more, Gabby wiped her eyes again and looked away. She shook her head. “She felt pressured into giving her help. What was wrong with saying you didn’t need it? Then she’d still be alive.” Gabby was normally a very logical and clever person. When her emotions got in the way, however, her thoughts become distorted and they ran her head. So when she found herself upset, missing her mum, it was easier to blame someone else. She’d seen her Dad do it enough.

“The same reason she fought the Snatchers with us is the reason she fought here that night; she knew she could help, and she wanted to do everything she could."

“But she didn’t manage it.” Gabriella muttered, her voice hardening now.

"And she would be glad that ye can live life without the threat of Voldemort over your head."

“What good is that when you’ve got no mother hanging around? What good is it when the only person to bring you up is a man that can’t decide between blonde hair or big boobs.” She shook her head, deciding that upset was for the weak. She’d displayed it and now she could move on. Anger was far better. Anger for her mother that had abandoned her. “Or both.” She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes now wide. “A man that only notices me when I do something wrong.”

“You know what? You say that she’s some marvellous hero. But she didn’t manage to save herself. She’s not in the history books like some. And all she’s got grieving over her is some crippled ex-auror, a self-obsessed dragon tamer and a frizzy haired geek.”

Gabby shook her head and put her hand out. “It was…interesting meeting you, Mr MacDonell. I’m late for my lesson.”