June 1972 – 12 December 1975

Chapter 16: June 1972 – 12 December 1975

A/N: The last chapter. Thank you SO MUCH to all my readers/reviewers – I appreciate it more than you possibly know. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!

He had done it. It had taken over five years, but he had finally, finally pushed her away. She would be safe now, he believed, safe from Tom Riddle (who was now calling himself Lord Voldemort), safe from his enemies.

She had clung to him in desperation, trying to keep him with her, and it had broken his heart to pull away from her. But pull away he did.

They still worked together; Minerva was still his Deputy, Head of Gryffindor House, and Professor of Transfiguration, but no longer his wife.

He missed her, oh! how he missed her, but he knew it was for the best. No one would bother to hurt her if they believed that he didn't love her anymore. He had publicised their divorce, going so far as to grant interviews to reporters in the Daily Prophet. It pained him that he had to hurt her so badly and so publically, but it was necessary.

Minerva withdrew into herself, becoming stern, unemotional, aloof – and if his heart had not been broken yet, it would have been, seeing her now. Yet she never allowed her feelings to get in the way of her work – neither her work at Hogwarts nor her work with the Order of the Phoenix.

Yes, he had revived the Order – it was absolutely necessary in these increasingly dark times. And Minerva, of course, had insisted on joining – as had their daughter and her husband. Albus didn’t want Marlene to join, wanted to keep her out of the war, but he knew that they needed all the help that they could get – even the help of a pregnant Auror.

Yes, Marlene was pregnant with their grandchild. Both Albus and Minerva were ecstatic, though both Marlene and Minerva were barely speaking to Albus. Nonetheless, he was thrilled and vowed to do everything he could to make sure their grandchild was safe.

The months passed, and Marlene gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in February. They named their child Frederick Kieran McKinnon. Marlene only let her father see his grandson at Order meetings, punishing him for leaving her mother. She was angry with him – he had left Minerva once before, and now once again. Her mother deserved better, Marlene told Albus; she didn’t deserve to be treated like chattel. He couldn’t explain to Marlene or to Minerva why he had left her, and so their anger continued.

And then, December 12th, 1975, the worst possible news came.

“Minerva!” he yelled, bursting into her private chambers. She was getting ready for bed – her hair was down, and she had only a thin dressing gown wrapped around her slender frame.

“Albus! What on earth are you doing here?” she asked him, pulling her dressing gown tighter.

“Minerva – the Dark Mark,” he gasped, out of breath from running to her chambers.

Her hands dropped from where they had been clutching her dressing gown. “Where?” she asked, though she knew where. Albus would never have burst into her chambers if it had been anywhere else. “Oh, God, please not...”

“At Cramond,” he said, and she let out a wail of anguish. A few moments later, she recovered, picking up her wand and running out of the castle, Albus in close pursuit.

As soon as they reached the gates, they Apparated to Cramond. She immediately transformed into her Animagus form, running as fast as she could to the house. He found her cradling the dead body of their daughter.

“She’s dead, she’s dead, my baby, my only child, she’s dead,” Minerva moaned in grief, rocking the body gently in her arms. Albus knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her as his tears joined hers. She turned a teary, broken-hearted gaze on him.

“How could they do this to her, Albus? How?”

Albus shook his head, wiping away the few tears that escaped. He stood and made his way upstairs.

As he expected, he saw the body of a man lying stretched out on the landing, obviously caught while rushing downstairs to see what had happened. He continued his way upstairs, pausing before entering the room whose door was ajar.

It was his grandchild’s room, decorated in blues and yellows. Numerous toys littered the ground, and books were overflowing from the too-full bookcase. Lying in the small bed was their grandson, Frederick. He was not even three years old. Albus walked up to him and took the boy’s wrist between his long fingers, checking for a pulse. Nothing. He made his way downstairs again.

Minerva was still sobbing over their daughter’s body, and it took Albus quite some time to get her attention.

“Robert and Frederick are dead, as well,” he told her sombrely. As much as he wanted to spare her the pain, he knew that he could not, but that did not stop his heart from aching as the woman let out another grieving wail.

“They cannot all be dead, Albus,” she said. “They cannot all be dead. It is not fair!”

He picked her up from her spot on the floor, ignoring her protests and attempts to get out of his arms.

“You need to rest, Minerva,” he told her. “You need to rest so you can be strong enough to handle the pain.”

She burrowed her head into his chest, as though she tried to escape his words. He walked silently to the edge of the property, still holding her in his arms, and Disapparated away.

She was never the same again, never.

They found out, a year later, that the Death Eater who had killed them was Albert Travers, the boy who Albus had believed was his son for so many years.

“I did it because I hated her,” Albert spat when Albus went to visit him in Azkaban.

“You two were so close as children,” Albus said.

“Yes, until that bitch took my place – she took my only chance at a happy family!” he yelled.

“Albert, she never took your place,” Albus said.

“Don’t lie to me – I know she did. I was there.”

Albus closed his eyes in an attempt to block the pain – it didn’t work.

“I’ve always considered you to be my son,” Albus said softly.

“Yeah, right. You never even wrote to me after Mum took me away with her.”

“Don’t you think I tried? Not even Fawkes could find you.”

Albert laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Albus stood up and left the prison, the laughter of the boy who had once been his son echoing in his ears for all eternity.

END.