Flights of Angels

A/N: First of all, here's the promised plot summary for everyone who chose to skip the last chapter.

Summary of Chapter 35: Hermione figures out what Shriver wants to do to her. After remembering what Severus told her about "intentional cruelty" and turning the tables on people, she asks Neville to leave. Neville refuses to leave her, sees the Darkness in her, and says, "Whatever you have to do, do it. But I'm not leaving."

--- end summary.

A/N2: With thanks, as always, to my writing furies: Ana, Annie, Indy, Machshefa, and Melenka. The title of the chapter is from Hamlet, spoken by Horatio over the body of his friend: "Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

36: Flights of Angels

At a gesture from the Baron, the host parted to make way for the smallest among them, who was leading the sad-eyed ghost by one hand.

His other dripped a slow trail of blood across the floor.

The tiny ghost looked from Hermione to Severus to Shriver, and her eyes hardened. Insistently, she pulled the taller ghost forward, and looked with urgent eyes to Neville, who drifted to Poppy.

"Madam Pomfrey," Neville said quietly.

The Healer glanced at Severus, who was still holding the Unspeakable at wandpoint. "Severus? There's something these children – well, ghosts – well, they were children – anyway – yes..."

The Healer's uncharacteristic flutterings drew a sidelong glance from Severus. Poppy's eyes were determined, but her demeanor was flustered. Severus jerked his chin toward Shriver, cocking an inquiring eyebrow at Hermione.

"I have him." Hermione's voice was calm, her wand aimed directly between Shriver's eyes. The Unspeakable was going slightly cross-eyed as he focused on the tip of her wand. She flicked it slightly, smiling viciously at him as he reflexively tracked it, his skin flushing painfully whenever she moved it.

"Play with him as you deem appropriate, Professor," Severus said mildly, turning his attention to Poppy.

After a glance at Hermione, during which Poppy's mouth gave a decidedly grim twitch, the Healer gestured toward the small ghost. "She seems to have found a way to subvert a single-use animation Charm."

"That's impossible," Severus said flatly.

"Yes, well," Poppy replied, "nonetheless." Turning to the small ghost, she asked, "Did you bring the dragon, dear?"

The little ghost gestured toward the door and gave a small shrug.

"Oh, yes. Of course. It's in the corridor?" At the small ghost's nod, Poppy started for the door. "The key."

The corners of Severus' mouth twitched as he stepped to Hermione. Slowly, he reached into her robes to extract the key, trailing it softly up Hermione's arm, dragging her robes up with it, exposing her skin to the cool air.

Hermione laughed – a laughter rich with understood promise, deep with a promise in return – but she did not break her eyes away from the Unspeakable.

Shriver broke into a sheen of sweat, and Hermione's laugh deepened, her eyes gleaming.

Severus chuckled deep in his throat.

A moment later, a tiny black dragon flew into the room, cheeping its frustration at being left in the corridor. As it shot through the translucent crowd of ghosts, its wings left light trails of purple lingering in the air.

An ashen-faced Billings appeared in the doorway, his eyes a wild as they traced the path of blood left by the sad-eyed ghost. Seeing Shriver held at wand-point, he shook his head as if he should do something, but his eyes kept drifting to the droplets of blood on the floor, and he stayed on the threshold as if planted there.

The dragon shrilled a single note when it spotted the little ghost. It shot to her and swirled excitedly through her hair, coming to perch on her shoulder with its wingtips tangled in the tendrils of her softly glowing hair. It let out a tiny, satisfied Peep before trying to shake its wings free.

She smiled, a small smile that did not quite reach her serious eyes.

Severus stared at the dragon and blinked.

The dragon paused in its efforts and blinked back, cheeping a complaint, rustling its tangled wings and staring at him with imploring eyes.

"But it can't be," Severus said, leaning closer to examine it.

The little ghost nodded shyly.

"That's impossible..." he breathed, gently removing her hair from its hooked wingtip.

The tiny dragon snorted, emitting small puffs of smoke.

"Show him the seed, child," Poppy said gently.

The small ghost carefully placed the seed in Severus' hand.

"She made a wish on a dandelion she scared up from somewhere. Somehow it drifted through the castle, and..."

"Muggleborn?" Severus interrupted, turning toward the little ghost.

She nodded, bobbing slightly in the air. The dragon spread its wings to keep its balance.

"Somehow, the seed brought me back to this form," Neville finished.

Severus' brow furrowed. "The headmistress mentioned that you had faded, somehow? What happened?"

Neville nodded. "I don't remember anything except missing, um, Luna Lovegood, Sir. I was quite fond of her." He paused briefly, and Severus nodded. "The seed drifted into me, somehow, and I found myself reformed. My little friend there sort of filled me in on how long I'd been, um..." Neville searched for the right word. "... gone."

"They brought the seed to me, Severus, after using it to somehow restore the broken dragon. The seed left a trace of blood on my blotter." Poppy glanced at the sad-eyed ghost briefly but looked away as if he were something too large, too profound to contemplate. "Who knows what else it might have come in contact with before it drifted into Longbottom." She opened her hands helplessly.

"Blood?" Severus echoed, turning the seed over in his hand.

The sad-eyed ghost opened his bleeding palm. "Mine. It drifted through my hand."

Severus' eyes raked the ghost's palm, and a wide-eyed Billings shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

"We were hoping, Sir, that you might be able to tell us if there's anything else on it? Something that might make an ordinary dandelion seed have an effect on ghosts?" Neville looked at him hopefully.

Dark eyes stared intently at the bleeding ghost, then at the seed. Severus turned the seed over in his palm again. "Impossible," he said again, amazed, but his wand was already forming the tight pattern that would separate and identify most potion ingredients.

Small strands of light arose from the seed and resolved instantly into three symbols. "Blood. Tears. And..." He glanced at the little ghost. "You made a wish?"

She nodded earnestly, looking up at him with large, hopeful eyes.

Severus trailed his wand through the third symbol and murmured a low incantation. "Hermione... could you confirm this symbol, please?"

"Send it over here, if you could? Wandless or not, there's no telling what this ape might do."

A flick of Severus' wand, and the symbol drifted into Hermione's line of vision. "It's the Arithmantic symbol for 'breath,'" she said, drawing a tiny circle with her wand and smirking as Shriver's eyes followed her wandtip.

"Fascinating," Severus said. He frowned for a moment, his eyes intent on some abstract space in front of him as he pieced together the potential implications.

Poppy waited, scarcely breathing, as she awaited his thoughts.

Suddenly, his eyes flew to hers. "Horace?" he said urgently.

Poppy nodded. "Despite its apparent impossibility, it might work. If whatever's on that seed can re-animate the dragon, restore some vitality to the echo of Longbottom's soul, and bring our tall friend here a different kind of step closer to human – with the blood - it could – maybe – work to release Horace's soul from its Horcrux. It shouldn't hurt to try – the seed should be inert, but... well... and the seed is from this stem, after all..." Her voice trailed off in a question as her theory spun out into the unknown.

Their eyes held for a moment.

"It seems to have a demonstrable resonance with aspects of the soul," Severus agreed quietly. The implications of what the little ghost had achieved with a simple wish struck an inarticulate but profound chord deep within him.

"Severus..." A fine tremor frayed around the edges of Hermione's voice, and Severus heard within it an echo of his own hope. "According to principles of sympathetic Arithmancy, if we can reconstruct the elements of the seed's path from the stem to Neville, this could work. Is there a particular inflection for sympathetic echoes in Potions?"

Severus' robes rustled as he shrugged slightly. "The same elements added in the same order do achieve consistent effects. Beyond that, it's all a question of metaphysics."

"In other words, the study of magical kinesthesis – or motion – or whatever animates a soul..." Hermione continued, still holding Shriver at wandpoint.

"Perhaps – it sounds awfully thin, even as theory..."

Billings finally found his voice. "Can I ask what's going on here?"

"No," Severus, Poppy and Hermione said simultaneously, and the Baron loomed menacingly at the Auror.

"Bugger, man, do you have to hover so close? I've gooseflesh enough from that bleeding gent there; I'm not going in there unless I have to," Billings muttered.

The Bloody Baron drifted a pointed centimetre backwards.

Hermione continued as if Billings hadn't spoken. "Severus, if you repaired my window not by filling in the crack but by removing it, then could this not work similarly? Removing the crack that should not exist in Horace's soul?" The hope in her voice was growing more palpable.

A glow of motion in his peripheral vision drew Severus' attention back to the small ghost's face. She glanced to the dragon and back to him.

"Hermione," Severus began, his voice sounding oddly hollow to his own ears, "could you bring the Horcrux here?"

"Someone will need to guard this bit of business," Hermione said, poking her wand on the bridge of Shriver's nose.

He blinked, his eyes toxic with malice.

She flashed an icy dimple at him.

Severus started for her, but Poppy laid a hand on his arm. "Let me."

He looked at her, and she smiled. "It's my duty to see that he does no more damage to our girl there. Preventative Healing."

Severus nodded. He found he couldn't speak.

And Hermione was at his side. "What do I need to do?" She looked at him and was startled to see that his eyes were bright.

"Take them," he said, blinking.

She caught one of his tears with a tentative fingertip, and looked a question at him.

"You can't summon tears on command," he said quietly, "whereas I –"

She nodded, her eyes gentle on his face. "So... what do I do?"

He held out his hand for the flower stem, and she placed it in his palm.

"Breath. Tears. Blood. In that order, if our theory is correct."

Hermione glanced at the sad-eyed ghost. "If you're willing?"

He smiled at her, and she felt a peace settle into her soul. She smiled back.

The bleeding ghost placed his palm over the flower stem. A drop of blood fell onto it, and he looked at Severus.

Severus just nodded. "All right. If you're ready, Hermione?" She nodded. "Little one? If you will?" He held the seed out to her.

The tiny ghost drifted closer and picked up the seed.

Hermione shot her an encouraging smile. "Quickly, little one – before the tear freezes."

The tiny ghost closed her eyes and blew the seed from her fingertip.

It drifted upward, caught on her breath.

Hermione followed its path and intercepted its flight, its tip piercing the pale roundness of Severus' tear.

Surface tension broken, the tear drained from her fingertip.

Hermione was dimly aware of the ghosts drawing closer, almost as if they were herding the seed toward its intended place.

The seed swirled in the air then settled into a lazy, downward drift.

Downward it fell, propelled and guided by the ghosts' collective breath, downward, until it met the spot of blood on the tall, sad-eyed ghost's hand...

Downward, through his hand, the tears of a man who never cried mingling with the blood of a ghost who had none...

Downward, the ghost's wound closing as it fell...

... and it hovered, uncertainly.

No one knew what had originally disturbed its random drift to send it, finally, toward Neville.

No one knew that, hovering unseen in a corridor, it had caught an eddy from the skirling edges of Severus' cloak as he had passed.

No one knew, but, as the seed hovered, the dragon took flight from the little ghost's shoulder, angling in for a closer look at whatever everyone was staring at.

It lighted on Hermione's outstretched finger, and its softly waving wings guided the seed to rest against the flower stem whence it had come.

And then a pause in which not a soul stirred.

And then a wind – the slightest hint of a wind arose in the center of Severus' palm, and the seed feathers caught it and it rose, poised, tip to tip with the stem, and the castles' ghosts drew closer until they overlapped, blurring into each other.

The seed clung to the flower tip, and its feathers rustled in the slight, infinite wind still rising from Severus' palm.

"Hermione," Severus murmured.

Hermione closed her eyes and heard herself whisper, "Reparo."

A gentle sigh as the ghosts drifted backwards, a single thread of ghostly light rising, barely visible, from the flower stem.

The seed feathers waved gently, caressing the rising thread of Horace Slughorn's soul as it trailed away upwards.

They all followed its invisible passage.

Only the dragon saw the flower stem in Severus' hand turn green. Only the dragon saw the seed-head reform. And only the dragon saw the original seed change.

Alone in a perfect whole of gently waving white feathers, the original seed blushed red.

In the pale light of the assembled ghosts, it was exactly the color of Darkness.