Chapter 23 (Epilogue)

"They really did a number on your shop, didn't they, Poe?" If the second war had taken a toll on Frank, he didn't show it. His green robes were as clean and neat as ever, as welcome a sight as the brown paper bag in his proffered right hand.

"Not really," I said, accepting the bag and pulling out a freshly baked blueberry muffin. "It looks bad, but they didn't stick around to make sure the fire caught properly. I've lost stock, but I can always get more of that. How've you and Henry been doing?"

"We've been keeping well enough, given the circumstances." Frank shrugged. "We spent more time doing the rounds of the Alley than manning the café, to be honest. I'm afraid that being beside an establishment as... Marred as yours, isn't good for business."

"Sorry, about that. Here, I'll clean it right up."

The front of Number 14 was scorched and blackened. The window was intact, but opaque with soot. The door hung open and the walls were charred. The interior was broken, a few bludgers still circling around and stirring up the ashes on occasion. With a snap of my wand, the stain melted off the window. A similar flick restored the paintwork on the wall. Stepping inside, I made my way to the centre of the shop floor and waved my wand in a complete circle.

The broken tables got back to their feet, the walls dusted themselves off and donned their posters again and the still-functional guardians returned to their resting posts. The soot and ashes gathered itself into one tidy pile, which I promptly vanished. Another quick charm—one Molly had taught me on request—filled the room with a gentle floral scent. I walked back out again, the door shutting behind me with its usual chimes.

"Turns out the fire didn't make its way into the backroom or upstairs after all," I told Frank, who'd stood back and watched while I worked. "So there isn't even as much lost as I'd thought. The Death Eaters didn't do a very thorough job."

"I don't doubt that." Henry's voice sounded out behind me. I turned to greet the other owner of the café, declining to shake his hand on account of the flour still caking it. "You shoulda seen them that night. We were woken up by the noise and peaked out to watch. Two of them came staggering out of the shop, pulling the rest after 'em. Eight of them in all, I reckon. Then the ones still awake argued for a moment and started shooting a bunch of fire through the doorway. Once smoke started coming out, they woke up the rest and Apparated out in groups of two. You'd swear they lost a fight with a troll, not whatever trinkets you got in there."

"Trinkets? I feel like I should be offended." But I was smiling. The easy banter with my neighbours was something I'd missed.

"So, now that you've got the shop all fixed up, are you gonna move back in?" Henry asked. "I'd appreciate it if you opened up shop again, to be honest. We did a steady trade after that mess in Hogsmeade, all thanks to you."

"I'm definitely going to open up the shop again," I said. "I might end up getting someone else to run it though. During the war, you see, I kinda accidentally wrote a collection of Defence guides and textbooks and that particular product line is looking more profitable than games. I think Albus has something he'd like me to do as well. Besides, I did say I wanted to travel. Running the shop would get a bit dull after a while."

"Well, so long as you deliver us some customers with that success of yours, I suppose we can still dump some of Henry's mistakes on you every once in a while," Frank joked. "Come on in and talk to us for a bit. Tell us some of what you've been up to for the past half a year. And don't try and tell us that you were just holed up safe and sound somewhere the whole time. You're on first name terms with Dumbledore, there's no way you weren't working on something for him."

"A lot of it's still supposed to be secret," I said. "But I can give you a few tales, I suppose. Only on the condition that I am provided with triple-chocolate chip cookies, however."

"I can have a batch in the oven in five minutes," Henry promised me. "Now get in here and start yapping."

I followed them into the quiet café and regaled them with stories for the afternoon.

I liked it. I'd missed it.

—tN—tN—tN—

"Good evening, Albus. How are you?"

The two of us were meeting in the headmaster's office once more, this time with far less hanging over our heads.

"I'm am quite well, thank you. I gather you're in good health and spirits also?"

"As right as rain." There was an awkward pause while Albus's teapot poured us each a cup. I picked up my cup and opened the first topic of conversation.

"So, what actually happened with the Fake Diadem? I know ye were able to kill Nagini and Riddle, but I've not heard the details. I did hear from Sirius that Harry had managed to tag along somehow, but nothing beyond that."

"I must admit that what transpired took me quite off guard as well," Albus admitted, tapping one finger against the side of his cup as he gazed out the window. "I called Alastor and Kingsley to me and left with them to lie in wait for Tom's arrival. I left a portkey behind in my office for Remus, Hestia, Sturgis and Sirius to take when they arrived. Once they had answered my call and gathered by the Portkey, they had attracted an unknown guest. Harry, with his broomstick and that marvellous cloak, had noticed the commotion and tailed one of them into my office. When the Portkey took them away, Harry was brought along. Although, we didn't realise that for quite some time.

"We established a covert perimeter around the Diadem's location, on the lookout for Tom. Before long, he was there, his snake wrapped around his neck. We waited until he had passed us and was examining the forgery before attacking. By good fortune, Nagini was thrown free in the first wave of spells, though Tom was able to throw off the rest with ease. His snake, the last remaining Horcrux, was beyond his reach, beyond his ability to protect. While he was occupied fending off myself, Nagini was slain by Sirius and Remus working in concert.

"By that point, Tom's worst fears had been realised. By targeting his snake so, we had uncovered our knowledge of his weakness, confirmed the suspicions the Diadem's discovery must have aroused. I believe he attempted to flee at first but was contained by the room's enchantments. Left with no other choice but to strike out, he did so quite viciously. I must admit that I was hard-pressed to fend off his ferocity. In retrospect, electing to bring along so many others of lesser ability to defend themselves than I may have been a slight error.

"Tom was able to break free of us and make his way outside. His ability to Apparate still stymied, he took to the skies and rained curses down upon us. At that point, Harry made his presence known. He must have been hovering outside already, unable to get through the doors without being noticed. Coming at Tom from behind, he grabbed him by the neck, shouting all the while. As you suspected, Tom had lost his protection from Lily's love with the shedding of his second body. He burned, crashing down to earth and dragging Harry with him. Harry, for his part, refused to let go, grabbing at every part of Voldemort that he could.

"He screamed in so much pain, I could have pitied him. Tom did, that is. We pulled Harry off him by force, but the damage was done. Tom's body, born of and sustained by so many dark magics, was crumbling, melting, before us. His eyes were burnt and clouded but still, he gave one last hateful glare before breathing his very last."

Silence rained for a few moments as I digested the tale.

"I must admit I am intrigued," I ventured, "by the nature of Prophecy. If you had asked me before, I would have said that Prophecy is predictive, nothing more than an obscure interpretation of events yet to pass. But what you described... The series of coincidences needed to bring about Riddle's doom at Harry's hands, regardless of my meddling... It suggests that Prophecy is in some way prescriptive. That it shapes events to bring about the described future."

"It could also be argued that the personalities involved played a more vital role," Albus countered. "The fact of the matter is that Harry was quite determined to see his parents' murderer brought down. He knew that we had a plan of some sort to deal with Tom and did not appreciate the level of secrecy perpetrated against him.

"He is not an unintelligent boy, and I rather fancy that he had taken to observing the movements of certain individuals within the castle. When he saw myself, Alastor and Kingsley gather and then depart with such haste, only to see other Order members familiar to him converge on the same place, he would have taken it upon himself to get there also and observe what was to happen.

"Armed with a broomstick, he would have reached my office in time to recognise the portkey and come along. Stymied upon arrival, unable to follow or leave, he simply waited his chance. The only surprise that remains is how he restrained himself from attacking Voldemort on arrival."

"Your explanation does not preclude mine, but I take your point," I said. "I don't particularly like the vision of fate as a fixed path dictated for us, after all."

Unspoken was a far more probable explanation, to my mind. One that involved an old man reluctant to leave anything to chance. Such a contrivance as what Albus had described... If he hadn't had a hand in crafting it, then I'd sell the rights to my biography to Rita Skeeter.

Albus would not admit to it, I knew. Not yet. It was a matter to be pursued at another time.

"Indeed." We sipped our tea in quiet. This time it was Albus who broke the quiet.

"With the threat of Tom dealt with, we can finally turn to more mundane matters. For example, I have been in contact with Madame Maxime and Durmstrang's new headmaster and they have agreed to work towards reinstating the Triwizard tournament—with restrictions—next year."

"That could be entertaining," I said, smiling. "I do hope I'll be allowed to spectate."

"And that brings me nicely to my true intention in asking you here today." Albus smiled and peered at me over his spectacles. "You see, Alastor has insisted on returning to his retirement at the end of this year, and I'm having difficulty finding an adequate replacement. Given the post's reputation, many of those qualified to do so are understandably nervous about the proposition."

"And you want me to take the job?" I said, my face as deadpan as I could make it. Inside, I was torn between crying and laughing at the idea.

"To be precise, I would like to offer you a two-year contract in the position," Albus said, leaning forward. "Before you object, your practical skills and theoretical knowledge will be wholly sufficient for the job. While it is true that more 'field experience' is preferable, I am quite confident in your abilities."

"My competence, or lack thereof, isn't my main objection, Albus," I said, shaking my head and dislodging the thoughts of just moments prior. "The problem lies in it keeping me in Hogwarts. I love this place, I truly do, but I don't want to be reliant on it, stuck here and unable to make my own way. That's why I'm looking to go travelling soon, with someone else minding my shop. There are so many wonderful places in the world, so much magic to see. As amazing as Hogwarts is, my horizons will only shrink if I remain here."

"A compromise, then?" Albus offered, setting down his empty cup. "An initial teaching period of two years is necessary to prove that the curse has been broken. After that, however, I have an idea in which both our goals can be satisfied. As you are aware, there are a number of other magical schools spread across the globe. The relationships between us have become rather fraught over time and I wish to change that.

"If it meets your approval, I would propose to them an exchange program of sorts. Magic and how it is used varies so wildly from place to place that a look into the ways of other nations would be most educational to many students.

"As such, once two years have passed, you would travel to Ilvermorny, or perhaps Beauxbatons. Maybe even to the Mountains of the Moon. There you would teach them what you know, share some of your considerable knowledge of defensive magic and techniques, and in turn, they would send an instructor here to share their ways. And in the process, you would have the opportunity to experience the myriad cultures of the magical world. It would take many years, of course, but the opportunities are immense, wouldn't you agree?"

I considered silently. Albus was manipulating me, in a way. I wasn't sure he was even fully aware that he was doing it. But he was also right. It was a great opportunity. It wouldn't completely solve my problems, but nothing would. I'd never travelled so far before by myself... But then, I'd been planning to do so anyway. And this way, I would have access to the knowledge of other countries, to their libraries and experts.

"I'm not good with languages," I said. "Or with dealing with new people. But I suppose I'll learn. There are logistics that we'll have to work out, but you can consider your empty Defence post filled."

Our cups clinked together, sealing the deal.

I may live to regret it, but first I'd live.

—tN—tN—tN—

"You're leaving today?" Sirius asked over breakfast. "Shame, I was just getting used to having someone else around the house."

"Sorry about that," I said. "I didn't want to impose and my flat is habitable, and secure, again. I'll probably have to explain how the security system works to whoever takes over my shop as well... I'll put it on the to-do list."

"No need to apologise, the war's over and we have our normal lives to get back to." Sirius swung back, balancing his chair on two legs, grinning.

"What about you? Weren't you still hunting Wormtail?" The chair hit the ground again.

"Yeah, but the rat is being slippery." Sirius scowled. "I will find him eventually, there are only so many places he can hide in civilisation. Even the Muggles wouldn't take him in, not as an unwashed, wild, rat. Well, he could live in the wild I suppose. Forcing him to live in the dirt for the rest of his life, without magic or comfort is quite a satisfying thought..."

"I should be travelling to Uagadou in a few years time. They specialise in self-transfiguration, amongst other things. I'll see what I can do about finding ways to track down sneaky Animagii and let you know."

"That would be appreciated, if I haven't found him by then. There is still a handful of senior Death Eaters running around, Crouch included though. Hopefully one of them will be able to give us a lead. At least Lucius got put away, they weren't going to fall for the Imperius defence twice! There is, however, a matter of more immediate concern."

"Oh?" I tilted my head slightly, affecting curiosity. I had a feeling Sirius had been trying to bring the subject around to something else and decided to give up on subtlety.

"Indeed. From today onwards, you will no longer be a guest of mine, thereby making this our last chance to settle which of us is better." Sirius swung himself to his feet and moved towards the door. "That indoor Quidditch pitch you made is pretty durable, right? We'll duel in there, where there's a bit of space."

"The enchantment at the edges will be disrupted by spell impacts, but the room itself is in no danger of collapsing unless you make a concerted effort to blow it up or something..."

Sirius had already left. I grinned and followed, taking a shortcut that he hadn't noticed I'd installed. I would miss my regular sparring with Sirius and would have to seek out someone else to practice against. Perhaps Flitwick would oblige.

I cast aside my thoughts and plans. I could worry about those after I won the duel.

—tN—tN—tN—

"Well, it isn't an unused classroom, we aren't huddled around an impromptu potions workbench, and we aren't dodging random hexes from one another but otherwise this is a real blast from the past."

Bill, Charlie, Percy and myself were relaxing outside the newly-reopened Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour. I'd completely forgotten that Florean had been killed by Death Eaters in the original timeline and was glad that had been avoided, somehow. Bill took another bite of ice-cream after his declaration and I couldn't help but agree. Our meetup felt much the same, in terms of emotions. To me, anyway. It was a meeting between friends in a familiar place. It felt safe.

"You forgot the bit where we've all got jobs and soon aren't all going to even be on the same continent with any regularity," Charlie quipped, grinning with chocolate-stained teeth.

"And I must congratulate you on attaining a post at Hogwarts, Poe," Percy added, ever the picture of politeness. "Hopefully you will last longer than your predecessors."

"And congratulations to you for getting promoted again, Percy," I said. "I heard that you replaced Umbridge as Senior Undersecretary?"

"Temporarily," Percy stressed. "Madam Umbridge has been temporarily relieved of her post following some irregularities discovered during an internal audit. I'm sure she'll be back in her office once they've been ironed out."

I privately doubted that she would. Moreover, his ties to Dumbledore were very much an asset in the present climate.

"The war was something else though," Charlie said, grin dropping. "I mean, I'm sure we're all seeing thestrals by this point." We all nodded, moods cooling as fast as our treats were melting. "We've all seen or heard some messed up stuff, and this was just over the course of a single year. Slightly less. And Dumbledore was on top of things almost the whole time, cutting Voldemort off at every turn. Imagine what it would have been like if he hadn't been stopped, if the war had gone on longer."

I didn't need to imagine. Rowling had done the job for me.

Charlie was right though. We'd won but at a cost. People had still died while the Death Eaters lurked in the shadows. They'd died when Crouch blew up Hogsmeade. They'd died when Voldemort set off as much trouble as he could while he went after the Diadem. Even though I'd driven off most of the Dementors—and the ones I did get had not been seen since—I hadn't caught them all. There were upwards of sixty souls that fell victim to the Dementor's Kiss. The only positive side to the tragedy was that Azkaban was finally free of Dementors, an opportunity that Amelia Bones had capitalised on to renovate the prison.

The cost was too high. I hadn't wanted anyone to die. I figured out pretty quickly that it wouldn't always be possible, that all I could do was try and minimise the death toll, end the war faster. The war was finished, but there was still Death Eaters loose. And Riddle had never resorted to such large-scale attacks in the original timeline. It felt like I'd only made things worse...

There'd be a lot more of us without your influence. So, I thought you were owed at least this much. You belong. You don't have to worry about having everything snatched away from you if you look away for even a second. Remember that."

A dead gaze and a post-mortem comfort. A reassurance that I'd made a difference, that I'd changed things for the better. It let me smile without having to lie too much.

Bill and Charlie pulled each other into a debate about whether dragons or curse-breaking was more dangerous. Percy looked on from one side, moderately disapproving. During Voldemort's last day, all three of them had responded to the various disasters. They'd saved lives and duelled against Death Eaters and each had been awarded Orders of Merlin, Second Class.

For stopping the Dementors, my Order of Merlin had been upgraded to First Class. It was just a piece of metal—one that I kept tied around my neck, lying directly against my skin—but it was physical proof that the still-anonymous dead wizard was being honest.

I ordered another round of ice-creams and made a note to arrange meetings like this more often.

—tN—tN—tN—

First-years were so small. I watched them file in through the open classroom door and shuffle around the room, deciding which desks to sit at. I was disillusioned thoroughly enough that I might as well have borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak. By the time the clock struck the time for class to start, all my students were seated and waiting for me to arrive, trading conversation as they did. I gathered from my own time as a student, as well as from other teachers' warnings, that a full and prompt class was a rarity to be savoured.

I strolled around the classroom, listening in on the conversations I passed.

"I heard that they duelled You Know Who by themselves and won..."

"...brother says that they were taught secret spells by Dumbledore himself."

"...over a thousand dementors—those are scary soul-sucking monsters—and they fought them all of at once!"

"...even Snape is afraid of them..."

Apparently, I'd acquired a bit of a reputation. Not entirely surprising, seeing as how I'd almost become a household name in short order through my games and books. At least I'd tempered my ego and greed enough to avoid assigning my own books as the class text. I finished my circuit of the room and stood at the head of the classroom. With a gesture, the door snapped shut. The students fell quiet and I dropped the Disillusionment.

Several of the first-years yelped and flinched away, particularly in the first row. One of the slower students shouted "Where did they come from?" a few seconds later.

"Welcome, first-years, to your Defence Against the Dark Arts class," I said, being careful to enunciate as clearly as possible. This apparently had the added effect of making what I said sound more sinister. "The purpose of this class will be to teach you to defend yourselves against assorted creatures, dangers and, if necessary, against other witches and wizards. Within these walls, you are relatively safe, provided you don't go looking for trouble. Going by the usual statistics, at least three of you will do so during your years here.

"Within this class, I will teach you the methods and techniques you can use to protect yourself, how to recognise what to do when you are in danger and give you some controlled practical experience of dealing with a hostile force." As I spoke, my words wrote themselves across the blackboard. I looked around the class and found I had their complete attention. I made another concerted effort not to baulk.

"To be clear, I cannot have people misbehaving in this class. Harmless pranks are a normal part of the Hogwarts experience—and mind I said 'harmless', so don't take that as permission to have free reign—but they are to be left at this classroom door. All grudges, rivalries and arguments are similarly to be forgotten inside this classroom. I will not risk anyone getting badly hurt because they were angry while I was teaching them a spell. That understood? Good.

"Now for the specific course. There will be two parts to your classes and two parts to your exams. A theory side and a practical side. For your theory, I would like you to take out your textbooks." I waited until the chorus of rustling and thumping noises subsided. "You should each have a copy of a book called Tales from Darkness. Inside there are twenty chapters. Ten are devoted to the story of an encounter with Dark magic or Dark creatures. Each of these has been carefully researched to be as accurate and detailed as possible. They are true stories. Each story has a corresponding chapter which analyses the spells and strategies used to fight the Dark magic or creature, and what the magic or creature was capable of.

"Over the course of the year, we will look at each of these. I expect you to read the stories in your own time and be ready to discuss what you've read when called on in class. After each story, I will assign an essay with the same topic: 'Discuss the events that happened in the story, with focus on the mistakes made by the storyteller, how you think they could have done better, and why'. If you want to get started on these essays ahead of time, you are welcome and encouraged to do so, just so long as you recognise that your knowledge and understanding will improve as the year goes on.

"The practical side will at first consist of me instructing you in basic spells. Once I feel you're capable enough, we'll move to practicing duelling amongst yourselves. In addition, I will be taking you to an obstacle course currently under construction elsewhere in the castle to test your ability to apply your knowledge to overcome obstacles. Finally, I have received permission from the headmaster to take you on four trips this year.

"One will be into Hogwarts' own Forbidden Forest. Another will be to the Ministry of Magic to meet with some aurors, who will be willing to answer your questions. The third will be to a cave system I know of in Ireland that is home to an interesting variety of magical creatures and phenomena. The final trip's destination is a secret that you will not find out until we're there. You will have assignments to complete for each of these trips and they will constitute a quarter of your final mark this year. Any questions?"

I could only assume that they had already heard from older students what Defence was usually like because they seemed unreasonably excited and started chatting amongst themselves. I indulged them for a moment before rapping my wand against my desk.

"Well, if you don't have any questions for me then I can start the class properly. Who can tell me how I arrived in this class? You, at the back."

All in all, I thought the class went well. It was nerve-wracking but exciting, enjoyable. I thought it was something I could get used to.

—tN—tN—tN—

The bed was small, my body smaller. The room was cramped and crowded, crushing in on me under the weight of the world I knew lay outside. The world was big, so big. I knew that now. I could remember realising it way back in the early years of my first childhood. I could remember lying awake into the small hours of the morning, terrified of how utterly small and inconsequential I was next to the vast emptiness and darkness of the universe.

What scared me now was not dark, not empty. Oh sure, Voldemort was both, but he wasn't what scared me the most. He was a symptom of something larger, the symptom of a world where anyone could hold the power of gods in a stick. A world into which I had just been invited.

My eyes forced themselves shut. I could still remember so much. So many details from reading and rereading, watching and rewatching, so many times. So many throwaway bits of trivia, a useful party trick in quizzes. Trivia that could destroy the world if they were to slip out. And I wasn't sure that was an exaggeration.

I was small, so small. I was weak. I was alone. I had nothing to my name.

Nothing but the school supplies Professor McGonagall had bought for me. Nothing but an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I was small. I'd grow.

I was weak. I'd train and gain strength.

I was alone. I'd find allies.

I had nothing to my name. I'd write my name in the history books, inked with the blood that would not be shed.

My eyes stayed closed and the walls backed away, little by little. I could breathe.

And I smiled.

Because I was in a new world. A terrible, dangerous, world. A world of magic, where anything could become a reality, maybe.

A world where I felt I might belong.

The smile faded.

A world to which I didn't belong.

A world of dreams and nightmares, vanishing with the night.

I slept fitfully.

—tN—tN—tN—

For all that I'd explored the castle on many occasions, I'd never entered the staffroom before. I'd never really seen the point. I did so now and found much what I'd expected. A long, comfortably-appointed, room with a selection of tables and chairs to sit at or in. Nothing exciting.

The most interesting thing in the room was its sole other occupant, who started somewhat as I entered.

"Professor Trelawney," I said, dipping my head in greeting as I made my way over to the table she sat at, summoning a teapot and cup from a nearby stand. "May I sit with you for a moment?"

"Of course, of course, that is no bother dear, er..."

"Stevens. Poe Stevens. I'm afraid that we have not properly met before."

"Ah yes, Poe. The child that turns into a raven." The seer's eyes cleared somewhat as she finally placed me. I could sympathise with the feeling all too well. "Of course, ravens are quite important omens, are you aware?"

"If my memory serves correctly, they are often considered the harbingers of storms, the heralds of disaster," I said, pouring some tea into a cup. "They're associated with death, due to being scavengers, but also with trickery, cunning and a few other details that slip my mind at the moment. And of course, their guts can be used for augury. Please don't try to gut me."

"Of course not, my dear." Trelawney positively beamed. "I must say that it is rare to find one so entrenched in the mundanities of spellwork to take an interest in the more esoteric arts."

"Well," I said, "I thought that I should at least put some research into what ravens are associated with, seeing as they represent some part of my soul or personality. If that is how the Animagus process works, anyway. My research on the matter is maddeningly inconclusive. I have read up on cats as well, on account of my Patronus. That being said, I have a keen amateur interest in symbolism and themes."

"Indeed, indeed. It is such a pity that so few of your peers feel similarly." Trelawney paused. "But you are the Defence teacher, yes? Ah, I'd rather not be indelicate, but would you care to...?"

I downed my cup, leaving only the tea leaves in a sodden heap. I offered the cup to Professor Trelawney.

"And here I was wondering how to bring up the subject," I said, smiling. "I would be honoured if you would read my fortune. The reading of tea leaves is known as tessomancy, correct?"

"Yes, quite," Trelawney said, accepting my cup and peering into it. Her brow furrowed as she turned it slowly in her hands, lips moving soundlessly as she interpreted what lay within. "This is a curious cup. Firstly, the spiral, a sign of creativity and problem-solving. Secondly, the chain, signifying responsibility or a chain of events. Thirdly, the wheel, a sure sign of progress and unstoppable change. And lastly... The heart. The symbol which beckons to love and belonging." She looked up from my cup and scrutinised me closely. "This... This a lucky cup. I quite expected to see some form of tragedy which would take you from our midst, but no. You are destined to change things, to resolve problems and set the world in motion. And above all, you are fated to find satisfaction in doing so. Never have I seen such a cup that's so... 'Content' is not right. Language fails me, I need symbols..."

"I understand the gist of that which you refer to, Professor Trelawney. It refers to the fulfilment of working at a task that you know will never be done, but being at peace with that fact and taking joy in what you can achieve."

"Yes! Exactly that! And call me Sybill, dear, since we are fated to be colleagues for a time yet. Do you mind if I read your palm also? I'm curious to see if it tells a similar story."

She took my proffered palm and cooed over every slight ridge, pausing every now and then to comment on discrepancies that I attributed to my previous life.

"Do you believe in fate, in destiny, Poe?" Sybill had dropped my hand suddenly and was gazing at me once more but distant rather than focused. "Most of the other professors are blind and willfully ignorant. They disparage my art at worst, humour me at best. You are genuinely interested, seeking me out of your own free will. And yet I have never seen you in my classes."

"I believe that I lack the capacity to See, Sybill," I said, carefully. "But as for whether there is such a thing as fate... I am of mixed minds. I believe that there is a course dictated for us to flow towards, a destination that has already been decided. But I also think that, just maybe, if we push hard enough for long enough, that river might shift its course, taking a different route. Some of us can look ahead and see the obstacles and turns that approach, and speak with confidence what they might mean. But any of us can take our own will and take control of the currents, steering our way around those bends and obstacles. I'm probably straining the metaphor a bit, but does that make sense?"

"No, no that is quite coherent." Sybill seemed happy, in her own odd way. "A most insightful metaphor for one who claims to be blind. And now I must bid you a good day. My students await."

Sybill gave an awkward curtsy and left me alone in the staffroom. I sat back in my chair and stared into the fire.

I had approached the Seer in the hope that she might be able to shed a little light on what lay ahead now that I was—to torture my own metaphor futher—sailing blind. I received vague pronouncements with little in the way of details, which was more or less what I expected.

But I thought I was okay with that. As I said to Sybill, we all had our own power to shape our destiny. I no longer had a cheat sheet but in a way that was freeing. I wasn't bound by any obligations but my own will. The world was bigger than Rowling wrote.

I wasn't at an end. I had only finished the first chapter. The best parts awaited.

End of Book One