No One Else

Sarah listened to the storm raging outside their cabin. They rocked back and forth, thrown about on the sea by the wind.

"Sounds like we're about there!" She found herself forced to shout over the sound, even with a tightly secured cabin.

"Lady Rose requested a complete whiteout," Alavel reminded her.

"To make it impossible for us to identify where we are, I know! That's why we've been adrift for nearly a day!"

Taltria moved over to a window and moved the curtain aside. "I'd call that a whiteout, wouldn't you?"

Sarah pulled her coat tighter around her and walked slowly to the window, working to compensate for the moving boat. Not two steps from the window, she lost her balance and fell.

"Careful," Alavel said when he appeared at her side and caught her. "We still need you to get back."

"Good catch." With Alavel's help, she returned to her feet. After a minute to catch her balance, she took the last few steps to the window, and saw nothing but white. She inspected it for nearly a minute, then made her way to the door.

"I don't know how you two walk so easily," she said to her companions.

Taltria dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "This is nothing. Try sword fighting like this."

"I have, although it didn't go well," Sarah replied, shoving her gloves and hat on. "Luckily for me, the other guy had it worse."

Taltria and Alavel exchanged glances, then eyed her in mild disbelief. She knew neither of them believed her story, but then, she didn't care what they did or didn't believe.

"You'll have to tell us all about it on the trip home," Taltria said.

"Depends on how long it takes, and how much alcohol there is left," Sarah replied, pulling the door open.

A blast of cold air hit her, nearly knocking her onto her backside. She held onto the door with all her might, then pulled herself out of the cabin and into the frigid arctic air. The Nimblewrights came out right behind her, decked out in their gold-plated armor.

"Sure this isn't too much?" she called to them.

"Endure elements!" Taltria called over the raging storm. "It'll have to be much colder than this for us to feel it! What about you?"

"I'll be alright, just so long as we get inside soon!"

The three of them helped one another over to the deck where their package lay waiting. An unmarked, solid black coffin, seemingly unaffected by the intense cold of the Arctic Ocean.

"'At the bottom of the sea, in a solid adamantine coffin forged around her, in the middle of a whiteout so even those that put her there don't know where she is!'" Sarah recited. "Your Lady Rose was quite particular!"

"If anyone got their hands on a single piece of her equipment, it could be disastrous!" Alavel called back. "This is the only way to ensure that she, and it, stay safe!"

"Couldn't just make a funeral pyre, could you?!" Sarah called, even though she already knew the answer. She'd asked the question several times when they asked her if she could secure voyage to the Arctic Ocean.

"She's immune to fire, even in death!" Taltria called, as she'd said before. "Her body's virtually indestructible, and so is that coffin! Might as well put the scraps from the maze to good use!"

The three of them unlatched the coffin from the deck, then pushed it as one over the side of the boat.

"Farewell, Rose Peta-Lorrum!" Sarah called as the coffin disappeared into the white. "You were a true friend to Sally-Anne!"

They took a second to stand in silence for Rose. When the boat lurched again, they helped each other back inside the warm cabin. Once inside, Sarah made herself a pot of tea, which the others naturally declined.

"Land is southeast of here," Sarah said. "I don't know where we are, nor does anyone, but we're mostly north, and once we hit land, we can find our way back to England."

Alavel nodded. "Thank you, Sarah. What you've done for Lady Rose cannot be described with words."

Sarah smiled and laughed away the gratitude. "Think nothing of it. When I think of what Rose did for Sally-Anne, for all their friends, it's the least I could do to help put her to rest." She took a sip of her tea, then stared sullenly into the dark liquid. "I only wish I didn't have to."

Albus walked up the porch and knocked on the door, taking in the quiet neighborhood as he did. He knew it was dangerous, both physically and politically, for anyone to be around him, but he needed to check up on one of the occupants personally.

"Dumbledore, what brings you round?" Augusta Longbottom asked when she answered the door.

"Augusta, you know a lovely young lady such as yourself is always welcome to call me Albus," he replied cheerfully.

"I'd be flattered if I thought you were here to see me," Augusta replied. She motioned for him to come inside.

"Where is the young lad?"

"Up in his room, where he's been for nearly a month now."

Albus opened the door to Neville's room and found him just as Augusta had described. The boy lay on his bed staring at a picture. His eyes moved to stare at Albus, then returned to the picture on his nightstand.

I've got my work cut out for me.

He glanced at the picture on the nightstand. He didn't need to; Neville's state already told him who it was, but he felt he should at least address her.

I do hope you appreciate this.

Albus looked around the room, and, in the absence of a chair, created his own.

"It's just as I said," Augusta said from the doorway. "He doesn't move. Just lies there, staring at a picture of that rotten little girl."

If looks could've killed, Augusta would've dropped dead by her grandson's hand. Albus personally didn't condone the dirty look, but he was still glad to see that Neville wasn't completely catatonic.

"Rose was many things, Augusta, but I wouldn't describe her as 'rotten'." He turned his attention back to Neville. "Nor, I suspect, would Neville."

Albus couldn't help but notice the irony of Rose trying to kill the champions three times, nearly succeeding with Neville on all three attempts, only to have him mourn her death. Although "mourn" didn't do the current situation justice. If Neville had needed to eat, Albus suspected he'd have died days ago from starvation.

"She's just a girl!" Augusta snapped. She reached for the picture.

Faster than Albus's eyes could track, Neville's hand lashed out and grabbed his gran's wrist with perfect accuracy. His vacant stare was now fixed on his gran. No matter how she struggled, Neville didn't release her until she yanked her hand away.

"See what I mean? Disrespectful. If his parents could–"

"Augusta, I've got quite a craving for some tea and biscuits," Albus said, his cheerful demeanor hiding his rage. "Would you be so kind as to put the kettle on?"

"Right away." Augusta, never one to allow her manners to escape her, ran out of the room. Albus closed the door behind her the moment she was gone, then walked around Neville's bed and sat beside him.

"I've seen many faces of Rose, but my favorite was the one she wore around you. I can only guess as to how she felt, but I suspect she didn't want you to think badly of her." He leaned in closer. "And if your parents could see you now, Neville, they'd understand. Losing a friend is never easy, especially someone so dear to you."

He patted Neville on the shoulder, then rose from the bed.

"I was nothing before I met her."

It was such a small sound that broke the quiet that Albus almost missed it. He turned back and smiled at Neville, who seemed just a little more alert. His face looked as if he'd just awoken from a horrible nightmare, one that would've earned a small child an invitation into his parents' bed.

"She did more than just give you the strength to carry on without her, Neville, she showed you that the strength was inside you the whole time. It's still there and you're going to need it to survive this."

Neville looked at the picture of Rose one last time, then slowly sat himself up.

"You've lost someone?" Neville asked.

"More people than I care to remember, among them, Rose."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Albus wanted to reassure him, but he knew better. Neville wanted the truth and a lie wasn't going to do him any favors.

"No, but you will learn to live with the loss. Never be afraid to stop thinking about her, because you will never truly forget her. But you will move forward."

Neville nodded slowly, still looking as if he were asleep.

"I'm not ready to move forward yet."

"You don't have to be just yet. In your own time, Neville."

Albus made his way back downstairs, and joined Augusta for tea. They made small talk for some time, then Albus excused himself to leave.

"I think I'll return in a week to see how he's doing, if it's not too much of an imposition."

"Why the sudden interest in him? You've got far bigger problems than one boy."

Albus had had the same conversation with most of his staff, although not always about Neville. He knew the answer; he'd nearly perfected it after the annual meetings with his heads of house.

"I learned from watching Rose that one person can make all the difference. It wasn't until last year that this truly sank in. Until then, I'd always had to restrain her for some reason or another. Whether because she had to keep her head down or to keep her anger in check, she was never allowed to be herself. Then I saw what she could truly accomplish when she put her mind to it. That's when I understood just how amazing one person can be."

"Why him?"

"You saw what he did last year," Albus replied. "After we agreed that he didn't stand a chance, I dare say we were proven wrong, and despite her bad attitude, Rose was proven right. I want to make it up to him, as my last favor to her."

He could tell by looking at Augusta that she didn't understand, but he hadn't expected her to.

Hermione sat on a swing in a park not far from her house. Not only did she hate spending time in her house, but she'd been joined by another guest earlier that morning.

Taltria sat beside her on another swing. The Nimblewright had shown up that morning out of the blue, having "ran away from home" and needing "a place to crash".

"Ready to hear my story?" Taltria asked.

"Go for it," Hermione said. She didn't need a rush of information, but it helped keep her mind off the empty guest room at her house.

"Dumbledorable is collecting Lord Skyeyes's friends."

"Lord Skyeyes?"

"Harry. After how well he worked with Malfoy, even after everything that happened between them last year, Alavel thought he deserved a nickname that he didn't despise."

"Oh."

"Anyway—"

"Hold on, did you call Professor Dumbledore 'Dumbledorable'?"

"Sure. Anyway, he's gathering up Lord Skyeyes's friends and taking them to a safe place. He wants them all moved by the end of next week. The Weasleys are already there, Lady Princess moved this morning, but Lady Moon refuses to go."

That explains why Taltria's here.

"Lord Skyeyes is the tricky one; we'll have to move him under cover of darkness, although Professor Dumbledore is putting it off as long as he can."

Even as she thought about Taltria's presence, Hermione's mind was already at work devising several solutions to the problem of moving Harry. Once she took the time to slow down and regain control of her thoughts, she realized that a few of them were no longer possible. She shifted back to thinking about her friends, counting them off one by one.

That's six, Neville's seven… there are eight of us. Who am I forgetting?

The answer hit her and she slumped in her swing.

"Forget she's gone?"

Hermione nodded sullenly, wondering how Rose always managed to stay happy, despite constantly being sad.

"It doesn't go away all at once," a new voice said. "You've got to take it a day at a time."

Sirius, Harry, and Alavel walked onto the playground, looking just as cheerful as Hermione felt. Taltria relinquished her seat for Harry, who sat down beside Hermione and tried to smile.

"How's your summer been?" Harry asked.

"Miserable. Yours?"

"Have you read the Daily Prophet?"

"Why? Did they publish something worth reading?"

Harry took a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione frowned, wondering what they could have written that Harry thought he should hand-deliver it. As it turned out, it was about Rose. She clutched the article tighter as she read it. Her anger reached such new lengths that she could smell something burning.

"Lady Brain, you've set the paper on fire," Alavel informed her.

Hermione looked down at her hand and saw the edges of the paper smoldering as an orange wave crept across it.

"I'm sorry," she said to Harry as she suffocated the flame just as easily.

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said. "That's all it's good for anyway."

"Gromphun right, it is," Hermione said. "I can't believe they're claiming that Rose killed herself! She's not mad! They might as well say Luna's mad, or Neville's mad, or I'm mad! We're just different! Not everyone has to conform to some standard set forth by the wealthiest in the kingdom! Some people are just different! How dare they claim she's disturbed just because she doesn't act like everyone else! Who gave them the right to decide that?!"

Hermione was thankful that no one answered any of her questions or tried to calm her down. She wanted to yell, and scream, and punch Fudge in his stupid, bureaucratic face! Or set him on fire! Or both!

Once she calmed down again, she sat in silence, listening to her own echoes. She gripped the chains of her swing until her knuckles turned white and her hands were sore. They wouldn't get away with it. She'd see to it that whoever wrote that paid for it dearly.

"Lady Brain, this is only the beginning," Alavel said, handing her a magazine. "They will be corrected and reprimanded for their wrongdoings, but until such time, I believe this may cheer you up."

Hermione took the copy of the Quibbler Alavel handed her and smiled. Rose smiled back at her from the front cover, surrounded by the words "Gone, but Never Forgotten". There wasn't any of the usual Quibbler material; it was only about Rose. How she'd lived, stories from her world that they disguised as a story she'd written, and her unfortunate demise.

"That's more like it," Hermione said, smiling as she read the magazine cover to cover. "Leave it to the Quibbler to get the facts straight."

"Bet you never thought you'd say that," Taltria said cheerfully.

"Never in a thousand years." She handed it back to Alavel, but he motioned for her to keep it.

"Lady Moon wanted you to have it," Alavel said. "As her gift to you."

Hermione smiled and reached inside her pocket for the condition conch so she could thank Luna. "I'll tell her–"

Hermione's heart sank, and she let her arm drop at her side.

"Aren't there runes or something we can use to talk to each other like Rose did?" Harry asked.

"Not really. You'd have to send the message over some sort of medium. Although, there are linked runes, so maybe… I mean, there are runes that can draw other runes, although those are experimental or horribly basic. If you could trigger one to relay a voice… but then how to get it inside their head?"

"Perhaps Lady Moon knows a way," Alavel said.

"I'll have to ask her next I see her."

Her thoughts drifted back to Luna. She couldn't help but feel thankful that Luna had never learned why she was supposed to have left. Knowing that her mum would've been back, then having that ripped away from her would've crushed her. The girl wasn't too stable as she was.

Hermione still had trouble moving on, but she knew Luna and Neville would have it worse. Rose was her best friend, but Luna saw her as an older sister, and Neville had fallen for her.

As always happened when she thought of her friends, her thoughts returned to Ron. It was the start of August, and he'd written to her every week. Only once had she found the strength to write him back.

Hermione flinched when she felt Harry's hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him nonetheless, his kindness chasing away the cold that had settled in.

"It's alright," he said.

Harry dropped his hand after a moment, but Hermione still smiled at him.

Her smile turned to a frown when she saw frost covering the ground.

"It can't be," Hermione breathed, standing up from her swing. She turned to Sirius, but he was on the ground, raving about something she couldn't understand. Taltria tended to Sirius. Alavel moved to Harry's side, who was wincing and holding a hand to his head.

"Get them out of here," Hermione said, looking around for the Dementor she knew was coming.

"We won't leave without you," Taltria said.

"Yes, you will," Hermione said. "I'll be alright."

The Dementor floated into view, bringing a wave of frost with it. For a moment, Hermione wanted to run and hide, but she stood tall, knowing that it couldn't hurt her. It couldn't even see her.

Harry stood up beside her, his wand in hand.

"Put that away," she said. "If you cast a patronus, you'll only get in trouble."

"I'm not standing by while you run in," Harry shot back. "Not again. Besides, you can't cast a patronus!"

"Both of you calm down," Alavel said. "You don't know why it's here. Attacking it at all could potentially interfere with the Ministry, and then you will get in trouble."

Hermione noticed that Alavel was glancing around them, but not fixating on the Dementor like they were.

"You can't see it, can you?" Hermione asked. "You're not magical."

"You are correct," Alavel said, supporting Sirius as they began to move away. "Come along. We–"

"It's getting closer," Harry said. "It sees us." He took Hermione's arm. "Alavel's right; we should go."

Hermione took one last glance at the Dementor, then followed her friends. They moved at a quick trot, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Hermione glanced back at the Dementor and saw that it was still following them.

They reached a field before long, away from other people. Hermione stopped running and turned around to face the faceless demon.

"Hermione, come on!" Harry called after her.

"No. I'm taking a stand right here."

Harry ran back to her and grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off.

"Don't you see? It's never going to stop. They're sending Dementors after us. Dementors! There's no one else around, and it's still following us. The Ministry's trying to keep us quiet. They're destroying Professor Dumbledore already. It's never going to stop until we stop it."

"We're not Rose," Harry protested.

"No, we're not," Hermione replied. "But it's still up to us."

Hermione thought of Rose. She thought of the World Cup, and what she'd lost at it. She thought back to watching Ron nearly kill himself on the first task, of the horrors her own magic had created over the past year. Most of all, she thought of her friends. They were being targeted by the people in charge because they knew the truth.

"Why?"

Hermione turned back to Harry. Her friend. They'd hardly spoken in a year, but still her friend. She had little doubt that if she ran off, the Dementor would stay with Harry. There was no one in the field apart from them. Harry couldn't use magic outside of school without giving the Ministry something to use against him; Taltria and Alavel couldn't see it; Sirius was dealing with post-traumatic stress over seeing a Dementor. That left her.

"Because if we don't fix it, no one else will."

Hermione turned back to the Dementor and began running through calculations. Numbers and equations unfolded for her inside her mind, opening it up to new possibilities. Fear of losing her mind soon joined them, but she had a way to fend it off.

Thoughts of Rose filled Hermione's head. Her crimson hair, her annoying smile, the way she'd talked long after everyone had stopped listening. She remembered the way Rose would bounce on her feet when she was excited, how she loved to skip through the corridors, how proud she'd be of her newest invention. A pit in her stomach threatened to consume her in grief, but Hermione held on tightly to the joy Rose had once brought her.

As she approached the Dementor, Hermione let her mind slip back to the Yule Ball, the last time they'd all been together and happy. She let the euphoria return to her, allowing it to fill her body with warmth to ward off the cold of the Dementor.

Her hand floated up as if it were a feather on the breeze. Light pulsated up her arm and flowed from her hand as it reached the top of its arc. The light extended out of her arm, taking shape as it left her body.

The silver otter flew playfully around her, thawing the grass as it swam through the air. Hermione smiled back at it as it beckoned her to join it in its dance of joy. Then it turned its sights to the Dementor and flew headlong at it.

The Dementor froze for a moment, then flew into the air. The otter chased after it for a moment, then turned back to Hermione. She smiled at it one last time before the patronus vanished.

"That was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

"It was risky," Alavel said, coming up behind them. "If someone had seen you–"

"We're fine," Sirius said. "We're practically in the middle of nowhere."

"You could've helped me keep an eye out," Taltria told her brother.

Hermione thought for a moment, tilting her head while she did. "I… I guess Harry could've…"

When Hermione brought her head upright, she found the world kept turning. She held her hand to her head and felt sweat on her forehead. She stumbled back, the sounds of the surrounding world blocked out by her own heartbeat.

"Crab apples."

Her feet gave out from under her, and Hermione fell to the ground as a black mist set in.

Albus arrived back at the Longbottom residence a week later. After exchanging pleasantries with Augusta, he inquired after Neville, and found that his previous visit had indeed helped.

"He's not lying in bed anymore, although I wouldn't exactly say his new hobby is better."

Albus walked through the quiet house, noting the pictures on the wall. He nodded his head respectfully to one of Frank and Alice Longbottom as he walked past.

"Would you like some tea or biscuits?" Augusta asked as they made their way into the kitchen.

"I'll pass on both, but thank you very much for the offer," Albus replied.

The kitchen had a glass door to the backyard, through which Albus could see Neville practicing. Some part of Albus was glad to see Neville up and about, especially after his last visit. Another part of him wished Neville would find a different hobby, one that didn't involve such danger. The boy liked Herbology; perhaps he could take up gardening instead of swordplay.

"He's been at it since I woke up," Augusta said, following his gaze. "Doesn't want to come in and eat, or write letters to his friends, or try gardening again. Just stays out there and swings that awful sword around."

Albus watched Neville practice for another minute, figuring out the pattern of his strikes as he did. Near the end of the minute, Neville switched it up, practicing a different set of maneuvers. As Albus watched, he remembered Augusta's words: "He's been at it since I woke up." Watching Neville, Albus wouldn't have thought he'd been practicing for hours, but for mere minutes. Neville showed no signs of being tired, nor of even slowing down.

"Why don't we go and check on him?" Albus asked.

He opened the sliding glass door and walked out into the backyard. It was a lovely day, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Neville would've been practicing in the pouring rain had he needed to.

"Good afternoon, Neville."

"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore," Neville said without missing a beat of his recitation.

Neville sliced through his invisible opponent, drew back, stabbed, then drew back again, holding his sword at the ready. After a few seconds, he relaxed and allowed his arms to drop at his sides.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Albus said, hoping to get some conversation out of him.

"I suppose."

"Mind your manners!"

Albus glanced back and saw that there was a red-faced woman to match the hissing sound he'd just heard.

"I wasn't aware that I was forgetting them," Neville replied, returning to his practice.

"Do be respectful," Albus said, a little more forcefully.

Neville stopped and stared at him for a moment, then turned to his gran. "Sorry."

Without waiting for a reply from his gran, Neville returned to his practice.

"Is all of this really necessary?" Albus asked.

"Yes," Neville replied. "I barely survived the Triwizard Tournament challenges that Rose designed. If Voldemort can beat her, then I've got a long way to go before I'm ready to beat him."

"Don't you dare use that name in this house!" Augusta hissed. "What if someone hears you?"

"So?" Neville asked as he gutted another imaginary opponent. "I need to work harder so I can take him and Lestrange down."

Albus wanted to tell Neville that there was something else going on, even if Albus didn't know what it was. He knew Rose's friends had known her best, and they all agreed that there was something wrong with how Rose died. It was as if she'd given up. Even her last words to Harry had made out like she knew she was going to die.

Don't forget to bring me with you.

How had she known she'd be unable to make the journey herself? With all of her gifts, there must've been something she could've done against Voldemort. Why not turn him to stone or dust? Albus had seen her do both before. Most importantly, what part did her friend in the Chamber of Secrets play in her apparent death?

Albus didn't dare tell Neville about any of it. On his last visit, Neville had been bedridden, paralyzed with grief. He'd refused to move or speak with anyone, still deep in mourning the loss of his friend. Albus couldn't get his hopes up like that, no matter what his suspicions were.

"Do you think you can beat them?" Albus asked.

"Never go into a battle thinking you're going to win," Neville recited. "Instead, go in fighting like you're going to lose. You'll try harder."

"Rose?"

"Taltria, after she and Alavel beat me just before the first task."

"Your opponents will have magic."

"No, they'll have spells that they can only cast so fast. I've just got to be faster." He emphasized the last sentence with a quick jab of his sword. "Shadow's the best, and she never casts spells either. I don't need magic to beat them."

"Let's see how you're doing then," Albus said, an idea forming in his head.

He waited for Neville to acknowledge him before continuing. Sure enough, the boy slowly stopped swinging his sword and turned to face Albus. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll throw a spell at you, and we'll see if you can block it," Albus replied. "I've seen you do it before, so I know the sword can."

What Albus didn't tell Neville was that he had no intention of waiting for Neville to be ready. He didn't normally like to discourage students, but if Neville continued on his path, he'd get himself killed. Within the span of a second, Albus drew his wand and fired a stunner at Neville. Within that same second, Neville snapped the Sword of Gryffindor up and deflected the spell onto the ground.

Neville crouched down, studying every aspect of Albus, but Albus could see that he was still listening for signs of an attack from a different angle. Albus had seen veteran Aurors less aware of their surroundings.

"Both of you stop it!" Augusta shouted, "or I'll throw you both out onto the street!"

Albus slowly returned his wand to his cloak, watching Neville as closely as Neville watched him. Neville waited for a moment before standing up straight and returning the Sword of Gryffindor to his glove.

"I would like to apologize, Neville."

Neville frowned at him, clearly confused by his remark.

"What for?"

"When Rose told me she'd make sure you were ready for the tasks, I didn't believe her. I, like many at the time, thought you'd be ill-prepared and die in the tournament. After seeing you keep up and outperform the other students, all of whom were far older and more experienced than you, I admit I was surprised. You never excelled so much that I thought you were cheating, but enough to show that you'd been working hard." He offered his hand to Neville. "It's my privilege to call you both my students."

Neville reached out and shook Albus's hand, still clearly expecting an attack at any moment.

Congratulations, Rose, you've made him almost as paranoid as Alastor.

What do you mean 'almost'? he heard Rose's voice exclaim.

"Thank you, Professor," Neville said.

"Thank you, Neville," he replied. "Know that you are not the only one fighting back, despite being more qualified than many Aurors in that regard."

Albus lowered his hand, then turned to Augusta. "On that note, I'd like to invite you both to join me. There's a lot we need to discuss."