Chapter Thirty-Two
"Ephemeral Stasis"

Page One

McGonagall's gown was beginning to sag under the weight of the water. The rain was coming down quickly through the clearing in the forest. She stood staring blankly at her parents, who were waiting anxiously for something. The cabin McGonagall was in not five minutes ago dissolved and was replaced with yet another moisture-rich scenario.

"What time is it?"

"Not five minutes since the last time you asked, Michael," sighed Megyn, standing in the mud next to her husband, wrapped in a very large cloak. "He'll be here."

Something began to quake underneath the cloak and a cry broke out across the clearing. A baby stirred in Megyn's arms.

"This isn't right," muttered Michael. "Minerva shouldn't be out in such weather. She'll catch her death."

"It'll be alright," reaffirmed Megyn. "He said everything would be fine."

McGonagall wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to warm up. She tried desperately not to look at the people in front of her. She turned her back, staring up at the sky. Fine water droplets pelted her face as her gaze met the clouds. The sky above her was moving quickly as the wind swept the clouds through the heavens. A whirlpool of storm clouds swam above them, casting a strange aurora of light upon them as rays peaked through from the moon above. A small sign of hope in a dim reflection of the past.

The sound of rustling leaves began toward the east and swept around them in a circle. The sounds slowly surrounding them, until finally, after a full circle was made, a tall man in flowing green robes appeared. He stood between two very large trees at the edge of the clearing. Lightning flashed, illuminating his features. He seemed younger, different than any other form which had been attributed to him through all the years of gossiping about the evil Lord before his rise to ultimate power.

Megyn's face loosened with relief as she walked toward him. She looked up into his powerful green eyes with awe and welcomed him into an embrace.

"Lord Riddle," she sighed as they stood together in the clearing.

Minerva looked at Michael's face as he stood motionless, staring at his wife in the arms of the tall stranger. He looked blank, as if trying desperately to hide something. Something he knew, but couldn't admit to anyone, especially himself. His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth and then released as he breathed heavily out through his nose.

"You have the child?" said Lord Riddle as a way of greeting.

"Of course," said Megyn carefully. "Although, Michael would like to have the process explained to him. He's concerned about what this will do to his daughter."

Lord Riddle smiled and walked over to Michael as smoothly as if he were gliding on ice. "I'm afraid I can't explain everything, Sir McGonagall, but I assure you, your daughter will come to no harm." He stood staring at Michael straight into his eyes for a few silent moments. Michael's jaw flexed again and again; he was struggling with his tongue, trying to keep something from coming out. Words were at his teeth, banging for freedom.

"With your permission," continued Riddle, "We'll continue."

Michael nodded his head. Immediately, Riddle turned and took the child from Megyn, who stood purposefully to Lord Riddle's right side. Holding the child directly in front of him, he looked up at the sky, closing his eyes, welcoming the rain that surely was to return his gaze. Instead, a loud crescendo of thunder echoed around the clearing and within an instant, the rain ceased its symphony. The clouds went their separate ways, revealing an unearthly sight. Two moons hung in the heavens; one at half-phase, one at full. This was all looking too familiar to Minerva and she had had enough.

"Stop it!" she bellowed, running toward the three in the clearing. At her first step, something froze. Another clash of thunder resounded and another figure appeared between the two trees on the opposite side of the clearing. Another man in resplendent green robes. This one older, more familiar. No longer Riddle, but Lord Voldemort.

"Why are you refusing truth?" he asked as he walked past the frozen memories, coming straight up to McGonagall who had stopped her sprint.

"This isn't truth," she protested, defiantly standing her ground. "This is a painting, made up by some fanatical psychopath to supplement his ego."

Voldemort smiled, stepping closer to Minerva, his hands clasped behind his back. "You will finish this memory," he said, trying to be pleasantly persuasive. "It has been buried far too long and I will not let you tell me what is truth and what is fanaticism."

* * *

"Are you sure you can do this?" Harry asked as he and Lupin reached the edge of the forbidden forest.

"No," said Lupin flatly. "But it doesn't matter. I'm our only chance."

Harry turned to Lupin, whose face had already begun to change from the decreasing canopy of the forest. He could see the urgency in Lupin's eyes, the determination against all odds. Harry leapt forward and held Lupin tightly for a moment, then quickly let go.

"You'll make it," he said, trying to reassure himself more than Lupin. Lupin replied with a smile, as painful as it must have been and then turned toward Hogwarts. It stood in the distance, foreboding, daring Lupin to try as he might, tauntingly saying he'd never make it. It was a citadel Lupin had to conquer and he knew it. With one final breath, Lupin crouched on all fours and took off at a gallop, leaving Harry behind.

Lupin kept his focus on his breath in front of him, brought to sight by the chill in the air. He concentrated deeply on remembering to breathe, bringing each breath in slowly with every instep and releasing on the leap. He had to keep in rhythm, or his stride would be broken and hope would become confused.

He ran past the lake, across the grass glowing green in the light of the dual moons, until finally he reached the steps. He did not slow his pace; he knew there was only one way through the doors. He took harder, deeper breaths, dashing up the steps and barreling his body into the large front doors. They buckled at his animalistic force and he went skidding across the floor of the entry hall. His hands had grown to paws and he gripped the stone tiles with his claws, trying to slow himself. His side hit the banister of the grand staircase, breaking his speed at last. He dashed as quickly as he could to the doors to the Great Hall, his breathing taking every ounce of his concentration. He was a slight moment from complete exhaustion, but he had to make it. He had gotten so close.

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