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Apparating into a small stand of poplars rather than directly onto the path proved a prudent choice for Argus. A small group of Muggle women were walking along the track, back towards the road, and he had always hated memory charms. Being an Unspeakable always required some, but he had never developed the cavalier attitude some of his colleagues had towards it. To rummage in a person's memories, even just to quietly still some of the inconvenient ones, had always seemed far too intimate, even coercive, a magic for him. He liked to see things as they were, and slowly sift through the layers of what was found. A quiet pop beside him heralded the arrival of his partner, Evadne Norris, and he pointed out the women to her without comment.
As the women passed, Argus took a moment to scan the surroundings. The path led over farmland for a short while, before the old growth of Chinkwell Wood reached up from the grass with glossy green leaves and gnarled trunks. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from Old Woman's Well. Haeligewielle were not predictable, and so far he'd seen holy wells that were so wrapped in their Christian stonework as to render their magic nothing more than a gentle murmur, while others spouted forth formless, smooth, dangerous magic from little more than a crack in an unremarkable rock. The magic they poured forth was elemental, and Argus was just dimly starting to see the connections in the power that the water trickled or seeped or gushed from the rocks. The key seemed to be in the water, and the elemental nature of it. Water never forced or pushed, just laid bare what was and could be.
"What did you find out in your research?" he asked Evadne as they walked along the path. They had worked together for several years now, since he'd started with the Department of Mysteries. He'd not known Evadne at school; she'd been a few years ahead of him, and in a different House. He knew her well now, though, and a question about her research was a familiar opening gambit.
"Not much," she said. "This well seems almost forgotten, and what little the sources do have to say makes it seem that the water is unremarkable, the magic small and commonplace."
"But we wouldn't be here if there wasn't more to the story," he said. He knew without looking that she would be wearing that small, secretive smile of hers, the one that said she had found more, but was unfolding it as slowly as a flower unfurls, as if to be sure of the attention of the bee. It was a game between them now, and he appreciated the way she laid out her thoughts and ideas with such surety, and she appreciated the way he waited for them with such anticipation. He loved to make her smile; it had been a rare occurrence in the months after her husband's death at the hands of the Death Eaters.
"Of course," was all she said, and he let the silence stretch out between them for long minutes. The sun beat down comfortably on his back and head and warmed him right through, the sharp contrast making the path stand out, dry earth and red rocks, and the grass bleached light, but still plump and lush. At the very edge of the forest, she turned, between two enormous oak trees, hand resting on the trunk of one. He couldn't see her clearly, the leaves shaded her face, and he felt exposed in the bright, clear light.
"Despite what the books and papers say, yes, I do think there is more to this story. This is Old Woman's Well, the well of one of the Matronae, and they say the water gushes forth between two stones shaped like her breasts. I believe we will find the magic of Senuna here - of liminal uncertainties, pathways and crossroads, all wrapped in formless water and hard-edged rock. Do you want to see it?"
"Yes," he said. She knew he wanted to see it. She had always been more fey than him, and quicker to pick up the feeling of a place or a spell, and he had always been more steadfast and patient, but curiosity had always driven them both and bound them together. They did not seem likely partners, but they worked happily and productively, and their learning about the haegligeweille was slowly gathering interest from the rest of their department, in so much as the Department of Mysteries would admit to interest.
Evadne smiled at him and he followed her under the eaves of the forest, letting the desire to see for themselves push them forth.
"Do you think the lack of documentation is based on some kind of prudish reticence?" he asked, thinking of the sexual and fertility magic credited to some haeligeweille. Holy wells with this type of magic tended towards the wildly fruitful, emphasising the joy of sex and fecundity, and some, more puritanical, reporters found this difficult.
"Possibly," she said. "Or we could be enjoying a nice nature walk to a holy well that is actually quite mediocre."
"There are worse ways to spend a day," he said. "What I can tell you, for I am sure you didn't look too closely at the map before we left, is that this particular area is known for ley lines - not the big ones that smash their way across half of Europe, but tiny little ones, almost insignificant, one would think."
"Do they come close to the well?" she asked, voice alive with interest, and a tiny smile that acknowledged that she had not, in fact, looked at the map.
"I don't know," he said. "Like your research, all I have found labels them commonplace, small in magic, fit only for hedgewitches." That was misleading, they both knew, for tiny ley lines, unfettered by the weight of stoneworks and human crafts used to tame the major ones, could be disproportionately abundant in magic, and often as lush and uninhibited as the wells could be.
"What does it mean when a holy well and a bunch of ley lines are reputed mediocre, at best?" Evande asked.
Argus shook his head. He could feel the reply, of the earth, of the very rock around them. The ground was getting steeper, the Kimmeridge clays mixing with outcrops and fluted formations of Portland limestone. Whatever was here, in the intersection of stone and water, was not mediocre. He knew Evande could feel it too, in the way the rocks were humming, the trees bigger, the very light itself in sharper contrast. The air was full of joy, of lust and pleasure entwined in the most basic of magics. There was nothing mediocre about this haeligeweille; it was the fertile, rampant magic of Senuna, indeed.
The path broadened, the oak trees thinning and yews mingling. The trees here were strong and clearly old, old enough to make Argus feel insignificant, but they themselves were still youngsters in the shade of the light grey rocks climbing sharply above them, and the broad pool opening before them. Argus and Evadne stopped, standing still under the last yew, and felt the magic envelop them. It was dense, untamed, luxuriant magic, unashamedly alive and fierce. Argus felt himself shake slightly at the power of it, raw and potent.
He could feel Evadne standing still beside him, aware of the tenseness in her body, the quick intake of her breath, and he reached out for her instinctively to find her already moving towards him. As their hands folded together, the rasp of their palms brushing, their fingers entwining, he heard her unsteady exhale and swallowed hard.
She tugged him forward, into the full sight of the water, and he followed. Desire to understand the well and its magic was mingled with his desire, unspoken but long-standing, to know and understand his partner and all her magic. He'd never spoken of it, or acted on it, but now, with their hands joined and the clear, sharp magic of the well stripping them both bare of artifice, he knew she could feel it.
Her own regard for him, warm affection, well-hidden desire, was also exposed, and he thrilled at the proof, though he knew they wouldn't act on it. Knowing it was there, thinking about it, reflecting on it and slowly letting it grow and expose itself to their gaze; he knew that would be half the pleasure of their love. He laughed softly, delightedly, and heard her answering laughter, as the haeligeweille magic let them see themselves, each other, and their connection, with the truth and joy of love. It accepted them as they were. Evadne squeezed Argus's hand once more and let go, and Argus felt no regret or deprivation as she moved away to pace between the trees and the water.
Argus moved forward to kneel beside the water. He'd never seen a haeligeweille like this before. The water trickled softly from a rock, but surely not enough to feed a pool this big. There was enough room in it for a person to stretch out, and, despite the clarity of the water, Argus could not see the bottom. The surface was constantly broken by tiny ripples, but these could not mar the overall calmness and surety of the water's magic. He felt amazed all over again by the way the magic of these wells could be so wild, passionate and untamed, but never compelling or coercive. The water went its way, he went his; Argus loved that, and hadn't encountered it often in the magical world, so often consumed by imposing order, and enforcing compliance.
Pulling his tiny workbox from his pocket, he tapped it briskly to retrieve his instruments. He found himself humming as he fixed the first markers on the edge, looking around the well to see the high points and the contours, the places humans had marked and made use of and the places where the natural stone slowly weathered.
Several popping noises in the middle distance made him lift his head, and the sound of running feet soon afterwards bought him up from his knees and his wand into his hand. That was Evadne running towards him, and he felt her feelings still as she approached. Fear uppermost, but also hatred, something he'd never known from her, and pain so sharp he gasped from it.
"Death Eaters," she said.
Argus knew what she meant, but it seemed so unlikely to find them here, at a tiny well in the middle of nowhere, that he nearly protested instinctively. His words died on his lips, though, and instead he said, "Can we apparate?"
"They have a prisoner," was all she said, and Argus's heart sank. Though the Death Eaters had not been active long, he knew of the way they worked, and he knew the danger the two of them stood in. He couldn't imagine what had bought them to a haeligeweille in the middle of nowhere with a victim, for torture or for sacrifice, but he'd have to hope that he'd have time to consider it later. He and Evadne would have to stay, to fight, and hope to hold them off from whatever destructive mischief they had planned until reinforcements could come.
"I'll send the alert," he said instead, glad now that the department had insisted that they carry one with them at all times.
"Up there," she said, pointing to a small nook where they would have their backs to stone, some sheltering rocks, and be flanked by the pool, and he moved without question.
Neither of them could know whether the Death Eaters would come in firing, or if there would be a chance to delay, so Argus let a shield spell form at the back of his mind as he set up the little magical candle and lens contraption and lit it. The flame caught, and a jet of light shot out of the lens, sparking a magical signal that he hoped would gather a swift response. Before a second ray could leave the lens, a spell shot past him, scorching his hand and obliterating the signal contraption. He would have to hope that the first one was enough.
There were four of them, which was bad odds, but one was unmasked, and yet his face seemed shrouded and somehow difficult to look at, without having to resort to a mask. Argus realised this must be the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort. One of them was levitating their prisoner, and Argus's heart sank. He recognised the Auror robes, though he wasn't sure who she actually was.
"We don't want a fight," Evadne said. Holding her wand ready, braced for battle, her voice was remarkably steady.
"You picked the wrong place for a romantic date, then," Lord Voldemort said, looking bored as his companions laughed. He waved his wand in a lazy arc, like their deaths were an inconvenience. Argus's shield spell snapped into place without him thinking about it, and Voldemort's spell bounced off with a sizzle. It hit one of the Death Eaters, sending him to the ground screaming, with blood spurting from his chest. The scream faded into a choked gurgle, and Voldemort's gaze sharpened.
"Good," he said, surprisingly. Evadne didn't wait for the rest of his speech, she sent a stunning spell straight towards him. He evaded it with a flick of his wand, and battle was joined. Argus felt the magic of the well slip into him, and he could feel Evadne next to him burning with pain and rage, and he let all his love lend her strength. He concentrated on the other Death Eaters, sending stunning spells and various jinxes at them, disabling two more.
A sharp cry ripped through Evadne, and Argus looked at her, and it seemed he could see right through her. She was wounded, and he grabbed her as she swayed on her feet. In the background, he could hear Lord Voldemort start the final Killing Curse. Unwilling to let death come to them like that, he tipped them both into the pool instead, letting them sink through the water.
Evadne gazed up at him, eyes wide, surprised, and he let the magic of the well join them completely. There was nothing hidden between them. Argus dimly heard a roar above him, and he kissed Evadne, giving her his last breath, as the rocks Voldemort unleashed sank around them. They would die together, buried in the haeligeweille, with no secrets between them. A boulder crushed them down, down, further down, and everything went black.
>>>>
Argus looked around the empty entrance hall of Hogwarts. He'd been to school here, of course, but it had been a long time, and he'd only ever seen it with the eyes of a child. It had been rich, vibrant, full of magic, then. Now it was still beautiful, still full of magic, but it was dimmed and he couldn't touch it. He supposed he should be grateful he could still see Hogwarts at all, but it hurt just the same.
He knew it would take time to get used to the changes, as the mediwitch had delicately put it, but that didn't alter the pain. He'd used to think that magic was fundamental to him, but being found half crushed, nearly dead, under a pile of rock with no trace of water at all seemed to have redefined what was fundamental. He supposed he should also be grateful that he wasn't in a cage somewhere being prodded by his erstwhile colleagues as they tried to untangle it all.
In his arms, Evadne mewed quietly and he scratched her ears. She showed him an image of her first arrival at Hogwarts, and he sniffed, not wanting to laugh. It had been a stormy night, evidently, and the doors had opened and almost poured the first year students in on a wave of waterweed, mud and, possibly, vomit. He could just imagine what tiny Evadne's face had looked like, all indignation and excitement.
Sighing, he patted her head and let the shared vision go. It was both comforting and disconcerting to see the things she saw, and, holding her, he was both grateful they were alive, and acutely reminded of the last time they held each other before the fall. That's what he had taken to calling it, on the inside, that nightmarish few seconds of water, of joyous love and pain, and complete abandonment to death and each other.
"Ah, Argus Filch," said a voice, and he turned to see Madame Pomfrey coming down the main stairs to meet him. "And Evadne Norris - or Mrs Norris, I should say, as I understand we are to call her."
Evadne jumped from his arms and sat primly on the floor by his feet. She made a little chirping noise and then fell silent.
"Madame Pomfrey," he said, bowing.
"Call me Poppy," she said. "We are now colleagues, are we not?" He was grateful for her matter-of-fact briskness, and the fact that she included Evadne in the smile she gave him. "If you would both come this way, we've got tea set up in the staffroom and then we'll see about your quarters and duties and so on."
Argus followed behind her, Evadne at his heels. Hogwarts looked different without magic, or without functional magic, as the endlessly diplomatic mediwitch had said. Everyone, thought bitterly, seemed very politely puzzled by it. Or, equally politely, pretended not to notice that anything had happened at all.
"There's just a few of us here over the holidays," Poppy said, as she led the way up the stairs and down a small hallway. Everything was the same as he remembered, but also completely different. The portraits were sluggish, not moving with the grace or fluidity that he remembered, but the uneven flags of the floor and the high ceilings gave the same sense of space. It was hard for him to reconcile; worse than St Mungos or the Ministry had been.
Opening a nondescript door, one he'd never noticed before, he found himself in a long, well-lit room, filled with comfortable chairs and sofas, with a distinct air of tweed, parchment and cups of tea. A house elf popped into existence and bowed very low next to some overstuffed chairs and a table. Snapping their fingers, the table filled with tea pots and cups and plates. Argus was grateful as a further click of the fingers produced a small saucer and a little treat for Mrs Norris.
"Sir is very welcome," the elf said firmly. "We is happy to serve Sir and Mrs."
Evadne meowed and waved her tail graciously. Argus was relieved. He was reconciled to working here at Hogwarts, as a Squib - a functionally-challenged wizard, said his internal tactful mediwitch - but he'd been concerned about his reception. He could see already that it was going to take time to get accustomed to the grey drabness of a Castle without magic, he was at least relieved that he could navigate here, communicate with the house elves, and his colleagues appeared to welcome him.
He sat on the edge of one of the chairs while Poppy sat more comfortably on the other. Poppy poured the tea and handed a cup to Argus, waving her hand generally at the table to invite him to eat. Argus took a cautious mouthful. He'd found the food at the Ministry and St Mungos, prepared by magic, tasteless and rough on his mouth. Fortunately, through whatever quirk of his own remnants of magic, or the intricacies of house elf preparation, this food tasted normal, and he ate thankfully.
"I believe Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said, as she buttered a scone. "In the meantime, the house elves will have taken your luggage to your rooms, and I'll show you there afterwards."
Argus took a large sip of tea as he wondered what to say. Should he apologise for how slow he was going to be without magic? Should he make polite small talk about the weather? He would usually rely on Evadne for this; she was always much more sociable. He glanced down to see her delicately lapping from her saucer and he had to smile.
Poppy talked a little about the school, about where to find things and what to look for. It wasn't quite an orientation, and it definitely wasn't an interview. It took him a moment to realise, but it was a kindness. Argus was happy to listen, and ask a few questions, and even found himself laughing a few times at some of the stories of things she'd needed to clean up in the infirmary.
She walked him to his quarters and showed him how to summon a house elf. She left him with the time for dinner and breakfast, and the freedom to roam his new home. Walking to the window, Argus looked down at the kitchen garden and greenhouse, at the south lawn beyond that, and was grateful he was on the first floor, and his offices and workshops on the ground floor. He knew he definitely didn't have the energy to spring up several flights of stairs as he might have done when he was younger, and particularly not after his work was no doubt going to involve a lot of manual labour.
Evadne jumped up beside him and surveyed the view from the window. She patted at the glass and he opened it. They peered out together, and he just barely suppressed a loud curse as she sprang over the wide windowsill. He looked out further to see that there was a ledge there, and another a bit further along, and a conveniently placed piece of piping, and a small rainwater barrel, and before he knew it, she was on the ground and pacing regally through the garden. He relaxed and watched her inspect a hole here and a raised bed there. It felt odd to have her gone from his side, but he was glad she would be able to come and go as she pleased, not dependent on him.
A house elf emerged from the kitchens with a basket bobbing along behind them. Evadne inclined her head and waved her tail, and the house elf bowed and spoke to her, too quietly to be heard. More of Argus's worries eased. He'd found it hard, at the Ministry and St Mungo's, to see Evadne treated like a cat, with no recognition of the very human cognition that still resided in her. No one really knew how much like a cat she actually was, though he was sure she would be excellent at mousing if she put her mind to it. It soothed him to see her treated with respect, like a person who had endured an unfortunate cat-shaped event.
"Mrs Norris," he called down, "I'm going to go to our offices. Would you like to come, or will you meet me later?"
Looking up, she tilted her head for a moment. It was a gesture familiar to him from watching Evadne consider choices for years, and he nearly laughed out loud. She sprang up onto the rain barrel and from perch to perch to return to his window.
"We'll have to find a way to make this work in winter," he said, "as I distinctly remember the cold, and I am not leaving the window open, no matter how committed I am to your independence."
She purred, and rubbed her head on his hand, and he saw a vision of a Muggle device, imperfectly remembered, but clear enough, of a kind of little door inset into glass.
"Ingenious," he said. "I had better start thinking of these Muggle ways of doing things, hadn't I?"
He was less sanguine that night. His offices were cramped and dusty, and his list of duties long. He knew that the house elves kept things clean and tidy, but he couldn't easily imagine how he would get things done. Time stretched in front of him, filled with the muted dullness of stone corridors and endlessly fixing and mending and making do, while all around him was the bright world of magic, so close he could sense it, but not move in himself. He existed, but, like Tantalus in Hades, was unable to grasp life.
Lying on his back in bed, faint moonlight sneaking in gaps in the curtains, he gave a little start as Evadne jumped onto the bed next to him. She prodded him gently with a paw and made a little chirping sound, like a question, and he realised she was asking permission.
"Of course," he said, heartfelt and relieved that she wanted to be close to him. He'd been so worried, after the fall, that she might be taken from him, but here she was, seeking him out. Curled on his chest, she was a warm, steady weight. She let him see a vision of the two of them walking the corridors, and he felt such a wave of love that he nearly cried.
"Can we do this?" he asked.
Her answer was unequivocal, for all it was silent. She was all certainty. At least they were alive. At least they were together. At least they had something to do, no matter how dull or difficult. He let that faith warm him and ease his fears.
"I was so worried," he said, but didn't finish. He knew, he'd always known, how precarious their position had been. Death, Azkaban, a permanent home in a cage in the Department of Mysteries… all had been on the cards until Dumbledore had appeared one day and seemed to sweep everything before him, opposition from the Minister and Aurors and all. She knew too, and he felt her surety; that this was better, no matter how bitter the years proved.
"I love you," he said, finally, and her purr was just a little smug. He laughed softly, ending it on a small sob and a few tears. She uncurled and licked his face gently. It was rough, and she smelled exactly like you'd expect from a cat who'd been eating sardines, but he felt the love from her, and that was enough. He drifted asleep with her purring in his ears.
>>>>
Argus sat in the staffroom, hands loosely clasped between his knees, shoulders bent. He stared unseeingly at the carpet. A single branch of candles burned still, but Argus sat just outside their glow, ignoring too the faint grey light that streaked the eastern sky. He had been here all night.
He knew that elsewhere in the wizarding world, people would be celebrating, and would be for days. The lightning of the sky brought, for them, a new hope this autumn, with the death of the so-called Lord Voldemort spreading like wildfire. But Argus knew that soon he would have to get up, move, tidy, clean and organise, just as he did every other day. Worse, in fact. Students on Halloween always left spell residue and mud in equal measure. He was resigned to the petty frustrations of of his life, but imagined they would be particularly bitter against the hopefulness and joy of the day.
A small thump alerted him to Evadne, coming in through the window he'd had fitted with one of those Muggle cat doors. She jumped up on his knee and patted his face with a paw.
"I know," he said, "yes, it's good news." She patted his face again and he snorted. "Damn right I'm not happy," he said.
Leaning back in the chair, he let Evadne perch on his knee and start to clean her face. That was the heart of it, he knew. Lord Voldemort's death meant nothing to him, and never would. There was no satisfaction, just an endless corridor that needed sweeping, and a room full of trophies he would only ever polish, not lift in triumph. He had spent years cleaning and organising, and the only reward was more work, and the ignorant contempt of adolescents. He pushed his bitterness aside as much as possible, but it was futile; it threatened daily to consume him.
"We could leave," he said, but, even as he voiced the thought, he knew they couldn't. They'd been reluctantly allowed out of the Ministry's clutches only by whatever persuasion Dumbledore had brought to bear on them. One of their old colleagues still came once a year to poke and prod at them, run endless scans of this and that, and ask the same invasive, intolerable questions, and always with that same pitying look. The Ministry would never allow them to live freely. Besides, he didn't have the faintest idea how to live as a Muggle.
Evadne continued washing her face, then tipped her head to one side and considered him carefully. She leaped onto his chest, landing with her claws digging into his shirt and driving the air from his lungs in a sudden exhalation. He scratched her behind the ears. She was his one constant, and he never, ever let himself forget who she was, and what she meant.
The door to the staffroom banged open and a disheveled shape lurched in. Even from where he sat, the sickly waft of sherry reached him. Trelawney, then. She made an indistinguishable kind of noise that might have indicated surprise, or possibly the urgent need for a bucket.
"Good morning, Sybill," he said.
"Ah, yes, Argus, and yes, indeed, Mrs Norris, how delightful," she said, gathering her shawls around her. She fluffed around in the doorway for a moment longer before sinking onto a couch by the door. Evadne patted Argus on the face and he sighed. She was right.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked, internally hoping she might pass out before answering.
"Oh, yes, indeed, tea, yes, would be wonderful," she murmured before subsiding back into the cushions.
"I hope you're happy," Argus muttered to Evadne, scratching her ears one last time before unceremoniously tipping her off his knees. She gave the little chirp that he knew indicated amusement and twined cheekily between his legs as he crossed the staffroom floor. Despite his bitterness and disillusion, despite the mud and unstable spell residue undoubtedly waiting for him outside the door, she always cheered him and reminded him of what they'd made between them.
He tapped the familiar code on the coffee table in front of her, carefully modified now to recognise him and the faintest trace of magic he still held. The house elf popped into existence, looking supremely unsurprised to see Sybill collapsed on the sofa.
"Does Sir also wish for tea?" the elf asked. "And Mrs?"
"Yes, please," said Argus, and Evadne gave the small mew that meant agreement. A cup of tea and making sure Sybill didn't die, followed by a quick first sweep of the main parts of the Castle, and life would go on as usual.
Pouring for Sybill, Argus watched her blink up at him. She took the tea in shaking hands, and he mentally braced himself to reject an offer of prophecy. It didn't materialise. Instead, hands suddenly steady, eyes focused, she looked him full in the face, and he realised that she'd entered a trance. Even her voice was firmer as she spoke.
"Alive but not, should be dead, all three of us, dead and buried in Chinkwell Wood."
Argus stared. Evadne leaped up onto the couch and looked carefully at Sybill, before laying a cautious paw on her hand, and they waited for the embodiment of the spring to speak more.
"One day, when you come back to me and my haeligeweille, along that summer path under the infant trees, we'll bathe together once more, all three of us, and be alive or dead."
There was a long pause, and then Sybill's hand shook tremendously and Argus just saved the cup before the tea sloshed out.
"Oh, dear," she said. "Yes, tea, thank you." She seemed unaware that anything had happened, and Argus sat back with his own tea, letting her indeterminate drunken murmurings slip past without note, feeling very grateful for Evadne by his side, thoughtfully lapping at her own saucer.
Sybill barely seemed to notice them leave, slumped back on the sofa in her own world of sherry and whatever regrets she carried with her. Argus walked the corridors, and found them just as bad as he'd expected, but it had no power to daunt him.
"How will we know?" he asked Evadne. "How will we know to walk that summer path?"
Bumping her head against his leg, Evadne gave him a look that he had no trouble interpreting, and he laughed softly. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was that he was still patient and steadfast, and she still quick to pick up the undercurrent of something. They would not miss the time, no matter how long they had to wait for it. His smile faded. No matter if it seemed like the time would never come.
>>>>
Argus sat numbly by the hospital bed. Evadne's body was stiff, like a taxidermy experiment gone wrong, and he couldn't bear to touch her, but likewise couldn't bear to leave. At least she was on the bed, with a pillow, and covered with her favourite knitted blanket.
A student, slinking in with an upset stomach, had muttered something about cats belonging in boxes, not beds, but Poppy had sent them away, upset stomach now augmented with ringing ears from the lecture she delivered. Argus had been relieved. After all these years, the small indignities of life for him and Evadne had never faded, but his colleagues had never forgotten, or treated them with anything less than human empathy. He remembered the intemperate accusations he'd flung at Harry Potter in his first rage and grief, and felt brief shame. The frustrations of his life overflowed from him too often, but he should have been able to stop himself from that.
Poppy's hand dropped onto his shoulder now, and squeezed it softly, and he knew that none of the staff would hold his outburst against him, no matter what it added to the mean, miserly tale of his life in the eyes of the students. She moved around quietly, checking Evadne with tender efficiency.
"Will she really be okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, simply and with obvious conviction. "It will take some time for the mandrakes to grow and the potion to be made, but we'll have her back."
Sitting still by the bedside, Argus stared at Evadne's petrified body as Poppy finished what she needed to do and left them in peace. A small lamp on the table bathed them in its faint, warm glow, while the rest of the hospital corridor grew dim around them. He was content to let the rest of the world fade; indeed, most days were grey to him.
He let himself see Evadne as she was inside, as she'd been all those years ago, when she'd walked ahead of him down the sunlit path and under the trees. Those days had been magical, wrapped up in the formless, sensual magic of the haeligeweille and the joy of working with them. It was only after, when he'd come here, that he had really seen how vivid his life had been then. Of course, the contrast was sharp. His life here was a stringy, muted affair, filled with mopping and polishing.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, thinking of the past, but he roused when Poppy came round again for her final checks. He knew he would have to leave eventually, but he didn't want to face the grey corridors of Hogwarts without Evadne. He tucked the blanket around her tenderly and gently stroked under her ears. For the first time in years, the touch didn't come with the reassurance of Evadne's presence.
He blindly walked the corridors, doing all his familiar nightly checks in a mechanical fugue. He finished up on the highest tower, standing on a small terrace at the top where he and Evadne often looked to the stars. There was no comfort to be found. Thin shreds of cloud obscured the sky, but he stayed anyway, looking out over the low-contrast world before him.
Even the corridors felt different without Evadne, and he realised just how much her magic and presence helped him navigate. He felt like he would have to get to know the Castle all over again, with even less magic to guide him. Returning to his rooms was not the relief it usually was. He was acutely aware that he wouldn't hear the discreet bang of the cat door in the window, or feel the warm huddle Evadne made on the bed next to him. He let himself in, and nearly tripped on the small bundle of books on the floor right behind the door. He'd nearly forgotten that he'd ordered them.
A mug of tea appeared on his bedside table with a small pop, and Argus felt his heart lighten just a little. It was a small comfort, to drink tea and inspect the books Irma had ordered for him. Changing into his pyjamas, he settled on the bed and appreciated the warming charm one of the house elves always placed for him.
The first book fell out as he opened the bundle, and he turned it over. The Medieval Castle Manual met his gaze, and his eyes sharpened. He remembered now what his order had been. Evadne had been curious about the Muggle experience of castles, ever since she'd heard one of the Muggleborn students talking about a castle tour their parents had dragged them on. He turned over the second. Castle Warfare.
He sat back against the pillows and sipped his tea. He'd been treading water for the last twenty years, taking turns with Evadne to keep their heads above water, and keep the bitterness to mostly manageable levels. He was utterly alone now, though, and wasn't sure how he would keep afloat. There was so much of his life twined up with Evadne, and, if the potion didn't work and she died, he wasn't even sure he could survive it. He needed something to do, and his long-forgotten love for sifting facts and finding connections stirred to life. When Evadne returned to him, he would be ready to share what he'd learned, and they would start the Muggle-style fortification of Hogwarts. Working together, with a shared goal and an actual vision - this was something that had long been lost to him in a dreary round of cleaning and fixing and maintaining. He'd forgotten the joy of making.
He drained his tea and curled up under the covers. He missed Evadne. He held onto the thought of the two of them again embarked on making things new again, and tried to compose himself for sleep. It was a comforting thought, and he only hoped it would hold him through the night.
>>>>
Filch unceremoniously shoved the last child through the door to the Room of Requirement and looked around. The Castle was deceptively quiet. Evadne streaked round the corner and to his side as Poppy poked her head out of the door.
"Is that everyone?" she asked, looking at both Argus and Evadne. Argus stooped to touch Evadne's head, and the answer was a firm yes. All the younger children were gone.
"Yes," he said. He looked at Poppy. There were going to be people coming back through this door soon, hopefully many of them, and ready for the fight to come, but someone needed to stay and keep the room open. Poppy was needed in the Infirmary, but Filch couldn't bring himself to stay either. Sybill bustled around the corner at just that moment, looking more definite than he'd seen in years.
"I'll hold the door open," she said, firmly. "No inner eye is needed to know that you both have duties elsewhere. All three of you, I should say." Argus looked at her closely, seeing past the vague draperies of her clothes to the sober determination within.
"Thank you," he said. Poppy echoed the sentiment and marched briskly in the direction of her infirmary. Sybill stepped inside the door, and shortly reappeared with a very large book bag, which she jammed against the door, preventing it from closing. Argus's mouth twitched in a smile. He and Poppy had never once considered propping the door open.
He ran for his office, Evadne ahead of him. He knew there wouldn't be much time, but it was important to do things right. They had made a number of changes to the Castle defences, and it was time to put them in motion. He strode over to the console he'd had installed, specially modified to work with his bare trace of magic. In the years since he'd started integrating Muggle ideas into the Castle's working, he'd discovered a whole world open to him, and this was the ultimate practical test, albeit one he'd hoped not to have set for him.
The console glowed with spell triggers. This one here, glowing blue and labelled in his cramped hand, controlled a very useful charm network he'd set up with Filius. He'd had to rely on Filius to actually cast the charms, but the research and arithmantic analysis were all the work of him and Evadne.
As Evadne pushed it with her paw, he hoped very much that the Castle had now lit up its new hidden accessway system. Evadne had liked the name; sending him an image of the Muggle spy thrillers she'd loved to read when younger, and he had grinned and gone along with it. If their plan had worked, all the hidden staircases, secret passages and cunningly disguised doors would now be clearly, brightly labelled - for those who had passed through the doorway of the Room of Requirement. That last had been Evadne's idea too, to help those who needed to find a way around the Castle quickly in the heat of battle, without the system helping those invading it.
He set off the other spells, changing settings in various places, arming various booby traps and defensive mechanisms, and he was startled to find himself feeling alive, like the Castle had finally woken up and responded to him. He stopped, and Evadne rested her paw on her hand. He dimly heard a roar and a crash in the far distance. He looked at Evadne, seeing the love and understanding in her eyes.
The last few years had been a revelation for him. They'd been painful, yes, and he'd been unable to shed the petty spite and malice he'd grown from long-accumulated bitterness. A few times had even been dangerous, but they'd also been the closest he'd come to living and feeling like a full person instead of a dried out old husk trapped in a mostly comfortable limbo. The effort of learning, and of making, had buoyed him up and given him a purpose. As Evadne's paw rested on him, he knew she felt the same. No matter what happened tonight, whether they survived or not, there was the satisfaction of a thing well-done.
"I love you," he said. She filled his mind with the image of the two of them walking the path in Chinkwell wood, as it had been all those years ago, and as it would be now. He had to admire her faith and steadfast belief. Then she bounded from the desk, and they ran for the battlements. They hadn't gone to all the trouble of constructing ballistae just to have them sit idle.
A few house elves waited for him on the battlements. They bowed low. "We is ready to bring the potions when you need them," one said.
"Not yet," Argus replied, gauging the distance to the attacking forces. "We'll use the ballistae first. If they breach the outer wall, we'll use the machicolations - is the sand hot?"
"Yes," said the house elf. "We is ready to load the cauldrons when you are."
Argus and Evadne swung into action, helped by the house elves. The bolts had been supplied by Hagrid, who had taken a keen interest in the Castle defences. His involvement had meant the need for rather more powerful ballistae, as he seemed to think that a three metre long sharpened tree trunk was a reasonable projectile. Minverva had contributed the exploding core spell. Argus had nearly laughed a few times at the indifferent contempt of the Carrows and Snape, as the staff had constructed Castle defences under their noses. They had seemed to think the taint of Muggle ideas automatically made whatever project Argus had been working on below their notice.
One of the house elves levitated the projectile into its cradle, and Argus heaved on the winch to tighten it. Evadne triggered the bolt, and they watched it fly through the air, a graceful arc to land right in the knee of a giant attempting to batter the outer gates into submission. The bolt shattered into shards and Argus saw the giant topple over, conveniently crushing a few of their foes as he fell.
They worked their way along the wall, loading, reloading, and firing, before a huge crash alerted them to the main defences falling.
"Go," said Argus to the house elf. "Use the machicolations, dump hot sand and the potions you have prepared. Then look to yourselves, do you hear? And thank you."
"We do as Sir and Mrs say," said the lead elf. "But we is part of this Castle, and we stay and fight in our own way. We thank you for thinking of this. And including house elves in your planning."
There was a pop, and they were gone. Argus and Evadne ran for the main body of the Castle. Neither of them had a wand, but this was their Castle too, no matter how long it had taken to become so again.
>>>>
Argus sat on the grass, watching the red of sunset stain the sky, enjoying the clean grass underneath him. He scratched Evadne behind the ears and let his hand drop, uncharacteristically still after all the rebuilding he'd been doing. Behind him, the Castle was structurally sound again, if not as picturesque as it once had been, and in front of him the grass was thick over the gouged earth and scorch marks of the battle.
"Well, it seems to be all over," he said. "What do we do now?"
Evadne butted his hand, and he snorted softly with laughter as he resumed scratching. She made an impatient noise, and he let himself see what she was seeing. A pile of rocks being cleared, with water slowly, patiently easing through every gap that was found, settling into a pool and a sweet little brook as the rocks were pushed back.
He thought about it. He hadn't been away from Hogwarts in so long that he could barely imagine the world outside the gates. Still, he'd put a lot of pain and effort into these stones now, and he knew he'd be able to find his way back.
"It might not work," he said. "Are you sure it's time?"
Evadne repeated her impatient noise. He had to agree. When had he ever done something while focused on the outcome? He had always prized the process and the learning, though he'd forgotten that for a long time there. Now that he had that passion back, who was he to question an opportunity to learn?
"We'll talk to the headmistress tomorrow," he said. Evadne bit his hand and he scratched her behind the ears again. Minerva was walking across the grass towards them, looking uncharacteristically carefree. "Bloody animagi," Argus muttered, earning another bite from Evadne. "Don't bite me," he said. "You had this all planned, didn't you?" She didn't answer, instead bounding from his side to greet Minerva. Argus waited in the warm sun for them to arrive, content in the moment, but looking forward to the future.
He and Evadne would walk that sunlit path again, then wind under the trees to the buried haeligeweille, and there they would uncover life, or death, or perhaps something that encompassed both. It didn't matter. He was happy.