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Chapter 32 – Relics
posted June 20th, 2020

Dear Diary of Nymphadora,

This is John.

I found you when arranging my sister's affairs after her death. I know this is quite sudden for you, because my big sister hasn't written much since the last time you were updated. Sorry.

As an Auror, she spent several days at a time, sometimes weeks and even month, pursing a single goal: find those who killed her mother. If you remember, that was the "accident" which cost me my fleshy legs. And eyes.

She seldom spoke about her work, and it's only because Amelia Bones confided to me about it that I know.

That work bore fruit, but she went half-cocked (like she often does) and followed the lead without thinking of asking for back-up.

The dark wizards she found didn't give her a chance, and killed her immediately – at least, that was clean, and she didn't have to suffer physically.

But I know the different kinds of suffering one can endure, and the mental can be overwhelming, preventing a soul from passing completely to the "other side" upon their death.

She came back as a ghost. And gave us pointers to avenge her. And we did. As humanely as possible, because our resident phoenix is still here, and really picky when we plan bloody revenge upon evildoers.

But still…

Speaking of dead people, I have the misfortune of being hailed as Dumbledore's protégé, apprentice, and friend. Knowing the old man as I did, I was certainly not. But he slipped in his shower, hit his head, and drowned – apparently, he wanted to pee and jumped after shutting the water… and the less said about what he drowned in, the better.

Snape died too, but it was of old age, after a great number of years of solitude. It was only discovered when people passing near a ruin discovered the skeleton sitting at the table. Forensics determined he died of starvation. Apparently, he got a magical version of a paralysing illness, which restricted his movements quite quickly. He found himself immobilized with a spoon of stew halfway to his mouth, and the full bowl just below. And died like that. Even if I don't like the man, I wish his fate to no one.

But back to Dumbledore. The man willed me his wand, hence the additional (and unwanted) titles for me – the only that count, for me, are now "lover", and more recently "daddy".

Well, I took it, and the girls gasped when a light surrounded me. Especially Luna. The geezer thought that by obtaining the Death Stick through a will, its magic wouldn't work. But it was still a Deathly Hallow. Like my cloak. And the ring.

And Death appeared, charming young-looking lady with a scythe that she was.

Instead of becoming her Master, like the stories advertised, I became one of her little servants – that was a really good PR stint, this: pretending that the one uniting the items would master death, while in fact becoming its servant. Quite ironic, too, as it attracted to her service the greedy ones wanting power over others. Or to kill them with no reason.

But Death saw that I wasn't greedy, nor homicidal. As it was accidental, I was offered an uncommon deal: in exchange for my help in finding and sending her those who try to escape her grasp, for as long as I was able to (which ended up being quite a long time), I was granted… a house.

A house?

Yes, a house. A bit small, even. But it was not like any other house, because of its location… in Elysium. And with how closely linked we are, our not-so-little family succeeded in creating a portal joining it to the Veela enclave Fleur headed nowadays.

That way, I can always see my lovers and descendants, even after their death – and with a phoenix on our side, they can be sure to be guided towards the ideals necessary to have their own place in the Heavenly Choirs – where I can still play my ever faithful cello.

And I can hug my dear sister Nymphadora, too.

Tonks! I meant Tonks! She's here, now, and aiming at my shins with her infamous kicks… Tonks!

The End