Epilogue: The Secrets of the World

It's a sin with no name
No remorse and no shame
Fire, fury, and flame
Because the Devil's to blame
And the angels proclaim-
It's a dangerous game.

Rhiannon had been in Bulgaria for a month now, searching out the place where her mother was murdered. After talking to over two dozen people, she got an address. Rhiannon had walked four miles to get here. The house wasn't plottable, had no Floo connection, and no cars came this way anymore. She got an eerie chill up her spine as she walked down the road. Everything seemed so silent here.

Rhiannon looked at the house in amazement. Not what she had expected from rich Conlon Baggert. The house was really a broken down shack, held up purely by magic. Weeds overtook what had once been a garden, and the gate was rotten away. Rhiannon pulled her cloak tighter around her as she stepped over the planks that had once been a fence. She silently wondered why Conlon had let his house go to ruin. Ever since her run-in with his grandson in Diagon Alley, Rhiannon knew that he had the answers to her questions.

The door made a creaking sound as she pushed it open, and an ethereal light shone through dusty windows. Rickety stairs sprawled up in front of her, and a hallway twisted around to the left. Sheets covered two or three pieces of furniture, and cardboard covered over a window. Rhiannon walked around, touching each thing. As she began to look around, she saw the home as it was meant to be seen. Something enchanted her there…the furniture looked new, the walls were painted. It looked as though it did belong to rich Conlon Baggert.

Her mother had been held captive here. Faryn Aithne had been a hostage, never to return to her mother, the matriarch. Rhiannon's grandmother had begged and pleaded…but to no avail. A breeze shuffled across the back of Rhiannon's neck, and a vision came to her.

The woman of forty-seven years wept. She was standing in the house of her most hated enemy, begging for mercy. Her twenty-nine year old daughter was getting weaker, and would die if she remained around this place much longer. The woman sacrificed pride and honor, and broke down.

"Please! She did nothing! Leave her be!" She pleaded with him.

"She is part of you. You took part of me, I took part of you." The man said. He was not laughing or sneering, only speaking the truth.

"She's my daughter!" the woman screamed.

"She's not suffering." The man assured her.

"I loved you." The woman whispered.

"That love is gone. Only ice remains." The man burned her with her own words.

"Take me instead! My life! Please…"

"I cannot kill you. The ancient magic remains!" The man pushed her away from him. He walked over to a drawer and withdrew a box.

"Here. Take it. It's for your granddaughter. A lasting gift from her mother." The man said. The woman looked confused.

"You think a necklace will replace a daughter?" She screamed. The man shook his head.

"No, but it will ensure you an heir by magical means."

"I want my daughter!" The woman sobbed. A young woman with silver hair entered the room.

"Father," she said. "I've come." The young girl of about thirty looked in his eyes and between them passed an unspoken message. The man turned to the older woman and frowned.

"Get thee gone. It's over. She suffered no pain, no hardships, no taunting, and no loss of pride. There's your mercy." The man practically spat the last word as the older woman broke down completely and sobbed. "I loved you once, as well. Take the gift home to your granddaughter. Time will test her mother's will."

Rhiannon shivered, and walked to the desk from her vision. She pulled open a drawer, and lifted out a few papers and some boxes. Conlon had kept these things…but why? Rhiannon had only been nine when her mother died, and had no memory of her mother other than what she perceived to be true. She had seen only one picture, but that image was captured in her mind. Rhiannon's mother had been taken from her when Rhiannon was only a month old.

For Rhiannon Luna

Rhiannon read the outside of a faded envelope, and opened the seal gently. She lifted out the parchment. Her mother's writing spread across the page. Even if she had not read the heading at the top, she would have known it was her mother's. It was a feeling she got.

My darling daughter,

I wish you the best, my princess. I wish you all the happiness in life. I am beginning to realize I shall never go home. My darling, please love your grandmother. She's an old woman, and is lost to the love of the world. Obey her, and honor her wishes. My dear, I won't be able to see you grow up. I wanted very badly to see you get your letter to Hogwarts, and meet new people. I wish you the best in that.

I love you, dear. I will always love you, no matter where I am. You are beautiful, and I wish I could see you grow into that beauty. It's getting cold, darling. So very cold. My dear, I love you. I cannot tell you enough. You're the only child I have, and I'd hate to lose you. I have a gift for you, darling. I made it long ago, and I only hope it shall get to you safely. My daughter, always remember who you are.

Rhiannon's hand went to her neck, and her necklace felt warm in her fingers. She wanted to cry so very badly, but the tears wouldn't come. She knew her grandmother hated Conlon Baggert, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him too. He had killed her mother, to be sure, but she felt no anger towards him. Rhiannon read through the letters, and as they went on, the writing became harder to read. There were tear stains on the papers, and the words became jumbled.

Rhiannon tucked the letters and trinkets into her bag, and closed the drawer. She ran her hands along everything again to capture the memory in her mind, and walked out of the house. Rhiannon continued down the road, knowing what she was looking for. She had never seen the place, but deep in her heart, she knew it was near.

A ways down the road, Rhiannon turned off the road and walked into the trees. She approached a clearing a few minutes later. In the center was a willow. Rhiannon knelt beneath it, and swept some leaves away. A stone was engraved.

The Greatest Gift

Ignus Oriens

Rhiannon threw her bag down beside her, and stared at the ground. It made everything real. She used to think that there was a chance that her mother was an Auror, and feigned death or something. Rhiannon laughed softly. How stupid. Aithnes couldn't be Aurors. Light and Dark mean nothing here.

Rhiannon tucked her knees under her chin and rocked back and forth. This was it. Closure…in a way. Her mother was dead. Never coming home. Faryn Aithne was dead. Rhiannon touched the willow gently, wondering if her mother liked heaven. It had to be better than life on earth.

Rhiannon reached into her bag and withdrew an obsidian dagger. Ironically, Kaden Baggert had given it to her. The boy was the only person she had even vaguely told of her journey. Rhiannon was sure her cousins were looking for her. Piper probably more than anyone. For a minute, she thought about plunging it deep into her heart. But she couldn't. Instead, she gripped it tight and brought it up.

The dagger sliced through the air, and came into smooth contact with her hair. Long, black locks fell to the ground all around her, and Rhiannon felt relief flood through her. For some unknown reason, Rhiannon laughed.

Rhiannon pulled out her book of charms, and read off an advanced level one. Her hair turned a bright aqua. Ironic, Rhiannon thought. She felt dizzy, but happy at the same time. Rhiannon didn't know why she was relieved after have cut off two and a half feet of her hair. But, she was.

Never look back.

"Thank you, mother. This has been enlightening." Rhiannon whispered, putting her book and dagger into her bag. She stood up, and walked away from the grave. Behind her, the wind blew the black hair into a million different directions.

There is only one power.

The power of self.

FIN

NOTES:

Because the end of the novel has come and passed, this writer feels the need (want) to say a few things. Before the credits are given, a few loose ends need to be tied and snipped. This novel was originally going to have three parts, or rather points of view. Well, someone got a little verbose and good intentions got thrown in the wastebasket. Therefore, in future NaNoWriMo contests, two more novels will be written to attend to this problem.

The lyrics that open each chapter were an inspiration as the story formed. Credit where credit is due, and the lyrics are as follows:

"Under Your Spell" (Buffy the Vampire Slayer- 'Once More With Feeling')

"Here With Me" (Dido)

"Hero" (Mariah Carey)

"The World Is Not Enough" ('Die Another Day'- Garbage)

"Hunter" (Dido)

"Noitalever" (Danielle Hall)

"Landslide" (Dixie Chicks)

"I'm With You" (Avril Lavigne)

"The Lady of Shalott" (Alfred Lord Tennyson)

"A Most Dangerous Game" (Jekyll and Hyde)

Angels in the creation of this story are numerous. J'Aime Beck gave feedback on the first twenty pages or so and laughed in all of the right parts. Although that was initially thought to "jinx" the next three or four thousand words, the jinx wore off and J'Aime is blame-free. Geordie Cameron lent use some of his characters that were created with this author in an RPG. You may rest assured that nothing was stolen.

On the note of being stolen, Harry Potter was not. May it be recognized that Harry Potter names, locations, and associated trinkets are chained up in the dungeons under Warner Bros Inc, Bloomsbury Publishing, and any place where J. K. Rowling happens to be. Lastly, the creators of NaNoWriMo. The tears never came. Not once.

Danielle Hall

November 29, 2002

P.S. Natalie Allen is a goddess.