"Marcid"

lean, withered

25 December 1997 [part ii]

"Athena Ashryver is dead."

River's voice wavered as he hesitated to continue. The silence that followed was thick with disbelief and mounting dread.

"The Captain of the French Aurors and Attack Force was killed in action today."

"What?" Harry blurted out, his head whipping around to look at Hermione, searching for reassurance.

"The death of our beloved former Head Girl is not yet confirmed by the French Ministry," River continued, his voice growing more solemn. "But the execution by You-Know-Who was broadcast to what we've heard was shown to every corner of the world, including schools. We, unfortunately, have to inform you that Athena Ashryver is dead—the Sacred One has fallen."

"That's impossible, no one can kill Athena. Right, Mione?" Ron said, his voice tinged with desperate hope.

"She, with all her might and alone, managed to dwindle the Death Eaters' numbers quite significantly. We will be grateful for her sacrifice in the war to come. We have to go off the air now, but as we do, we ask you to take a moment's silence in memory of Athena, our dear Captain."

The broadcast ended, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. Harry and Ron turned to Hermione, their faces etched with shock and disbelief. Anything she said would mean it was true.

"They wouldn't lie. Athena meant everything to every single one of us," Hermione muttered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible. He took a step back from his friends, shaking his head. "That's impossible."

"Harry..."

"She's not dead! My sister cannot be dead!" Harry shouted, his voice cracking as the enormity of the news hit him. He looked wild, eyes darting around as if searching for a way to undo what he had just heard.

Ron reached out, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Harry, we need to—"

"No!" Harry cut him off, his face a mask of grief and denial. "Athena can't be dead. She can't be..."

Hermione took a shaky step forward, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Harry's arm. "We'll find out what happened, Harry. We'll get through this together."

Harry looked at her, the fight slowly draining from his eyes. He collapsed into Hermione's arms, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Ron wrapped his arms around them both, the three friends united in their shared grief.

At that moment, they were no longer the heroes of the wizarding world. They were just three people who had lost someone they loved dearly. And in the echo of Athena's loss, they found the strength to hold on to each other, vowing silently to honour her memory in the fight that lay ahead.

— | —

"Minerva," Pomfrey said softly as she entered the Professor's office. Minerva McGonagall was seated at her desk, tears streaming down her face as she read the letter Athena had written.

"Oh, Minnie," Pomfrey whispered, her heart aching for her friend.

"I-I can't do this," Minerva choked out, her voice trembling with grief.

"Do what?" Pomfrey asked, dragging a chair beside her and pulling her into a comforting embrace.

"Mourn another student. Pom, I've mourned too many," Minerva sobbed, her body shaking with the effort to hold herself together.

"We did, didn't we?" Pomfrey whispered, hugging her friend close and gently rubbing her back. "The kid wrote me too."

Minerva sniffled and pulled away slightly, looking at Pomfrey with red-rimmed eyes. "She's your greatest assistant, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she was," Pomfrey replied, her own eyes welling up with tears.

The two women sat together in a shared silence, the weight of their grief and memories pressing down on them. They had seen so many bright young lives extinguished too soon, and Athena's loss was another heavy blow.

"She always had a smile for everyone," Minerva murmured, her voice soft and broken. "And such a bright mind. She could have done anything."

Pomfrey nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "She had so much potential. And such kindness. It's hard to believe she's gone."

Minerva looked down at the letter in her hands, the words blurring through her tears. "She wanted to make a difference. And she did, didn't she? Even in the end."

"She did," Pomfrey agreed, her voice firm with conviction. "Athena made a difference in so many lives. And we'll remember her for that."

Minerva nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Pom. For being here."

"Always, Minnie," Pomfrey said, squeezing her friend's hand. "We'll get through this. Together."

The two women sat there, finding strength in each other's presence, united in their grief and their love for the student they had lost.

— | —

"Uh, Lexi?" Allison said, her voice trembling as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands—addressed to both of them.

"Yeah!" Alexis replied, bustling into the living room with a tray of brunch. Allison hesitated to share the news until Alexis had placed the food down. "Why are you so gloomy?"

"Athena's dead."

"What? That's not funny," Alexis scoffed her initial reaction one of disbelief. But as she looked into Allison's eyes, her expression changed. Allison gently touched Alexis's cheek, her eyes flickering with pain.

"She's gone," Allison whispered, holding out the letter. Alexis snatched it from her hand, immediately recognizing Athena's handwriting. Her face filled with disbelief.

"That's impossible," Alexis gasped. She stood up abruptly and began to pace the room, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. Allison, feeling helpless, watched as her girlfriend tried to process the devastating news.

"That's impossible," Alexis repeated, her voice breaking as she re-read the letter, struggling to comprehend the loss of the first person who had accepted her for who she was.

"That's impossible!" Alexis cried out, her legs giving way as she collapsed to her knees, clutching the letter. Allison rushed to her side, pulling her close, her heart pounding heavily against Alexis's ear. All she could do was hold her as she sobbed.

"I know it's impossible."

"H-how—" Alexis stammered between sobs.

"I don't know, Baby, I don't know."

"It's Athena," Alexis sobbed, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

"That's why I don't know," Allison whispered, tears streaming down her own face as she held Alexis tighter. They clung to each other, sharing their grief in the quiet, shattered space of their living room.

— | —

"Who's missing?" Camille managed to ask, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes stared blankly at the table, her vision blurring as she fought to hold back her tears. The empty seat at the table seemed to loom larger, a stark reminder of her profound loss.

Chloe and Ines exchanged a sombre glance, their expressions mirroring the heavy weight of the moment. They both looked at the empty seat between them, a void that felt impossibly vast.

"It's Athena," Chloe whispered, her voice trembling. The Bureau leaders turned their attention to the vacant seat. Captain Ashryver, despite her sharp tongue and quick quips, was deeply respected and, in her own way, loved by them all. Camille slowly lifted her gaze from the table, her eyes fixed on the empty chair, the pain of her decision to promote her daughter now an unbearable regret.

For a brief second, Camille had managed to gather her will, embodying the strength expected of the leader of her people. But that split second was shattered by the reminder that she was also a mother who had just lost her daughter. Her tears began to slide down her cheeks, unstoppable now, as she continued to stare at the empty seat that once belonged to her sweet girl.

She cursed the Gods silently for taking her daughter away, feeling the bitterness of her grief swell within her. How could she possibly be the light for her people when her own light had been extinguished?

"I-I need an hour," Camille spoke softly, her voice barely holding together. She finally tore her eyes away from her daughter's empty seat, the effort nearly breaking her.

Apolline, her voice breaking, tried to offer comfort. She had lost a daughter-in-law too. "Cam—"

"I am still the Minister of France," Camille interrupted, her tone firm despite the tears. "I will mourn my daughter later. After an hour, we will be back here, discussing and continuing the plans we have for France and our neighbours," she ordered, her eyes flicking back to the empty seat. "We will not let my daughter's death be in vain. Understood?"

"Oui, Ministre," they responded in unison, their voices a chorus of support and sorrow.

As Camille walked out of the room, the weight of her loss hung heavy in the air. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, a poignant reminder of her strength and her suffering.

— | —

Juliette took a deep breath as she entered the training area, trying to keep her composure. The air was thick with the scent of burnt wood and scorched earth, remnants of the relentless spells Camille had unleashed. Targets lay shattered, barely having time to repair themselves before being obliterated again. Camille was a whirlwind of fury, her magic crackling in the air around her.

"Cami," Juliette called out softly, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and resolve.

Camille spun around, her eyes blazing with anger and grief. "What?" she shouted, her voice raw and strained. Her eyes were red, but no tears fell. She had cried until she couldn't anymore, the pain now etched deeply into her expression.

Juliette took a cautious step forward. "You can mourn your daughter."

Camille scoffed, casting another spell with a violent flick of her wrist. "Oh, can I?" she retorted bitterly. "I watched my daughter get killed! All alone! Her death was broadcast everywhere! Every corner of the fucking world! And guess what? I am the fucking Minister!" Her voice broke, but she kept her tears at bay, refusing to let them fall.

Juliette's heart ached at the sight of her sister's pain. "We will understand," she said gently, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Camille's laughter was harsh and hollow. "Will you? Will any of you understand?" She paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I'm the Minister, Juliette. I'm supposed to protect everyone, and I couldn't even save my own daughter."

Juliette stepped closer, her voice a whisper now. "Sister, you lost your daughter."

Camille's shoulders sagged, the weight of her grief and anger too much to bear. For a moment, she looked like she might collapse. Juliette reached out, but Camille shook her head, turning away to cast another spell. The explosion of light and sound mirrored the turmoil within her.

Juliette watched her sister, feeling helpless. She wanted to reach out, to hold Camille and share in her grief, but she knew that her sister needed to process this in her own way. The training area echoed with the sounds of Camille's rage and sorrow, and Juliette could only stand by, offering silent support and understanding.

— | —

"I am going to rip that noseless bastard to shreds!" Sirius proclaimed, his voice shaking with fury as he kicked a table over, sending papers and knick-knacks flying.

Remus sat on the sofa, staring into space, his face etched with grief. He barely registered Sirius's outburst, too consumed by the loss of his goddaughter. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white from the pressure. The room felt colder, and emptier, despite the chaos around them.

"Sirius, please," Remus finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to think clearly. Revenge won't bring her back."

Sirius whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Think clearly? Remus, Athena is dead! Voldemort took her from us! How can you sit there and do nothing?"

Remus looked up, his eyes hollow. "I'm not doing nothing, Sirius. I'm trying to hold on. For her."

Sirius's anger faltered for a moment as he took in the sight of his old friend, broken and grieving. He walked over to the sofa and sank beside Remus, his own rage giving way to the crushing weight of loss.

"We'll make him pay," Remus said quietly, his voice steady but filled with a deep, simmering determination. "But we need to be smart about it. For Athena. For everyone."

— | —

"What's with the fuss?" Marlene scoffed, serving a drink to a patron at the bar before turning to make another.

"You haven't heard?" a customer asked, their eyes wide with the gravity of the news.

"Heard what?" Marlene replied, her tone casual as she mixed the next drink.

"Athena Ashryver est morte."

"Qoui?" Marlene paused, the glass nearly slipping from her hands.

"She's dead. Her execution was broadcast to every corner of the world."

Marlene stood frozen for a moment, her mind struggling to process the information. Athena, her goddaughter, the fierce, unbreakable warrior she had watched grow up, was gone.

"Uh, take care of the bar today. Close the parlour," she muttered to the nearest bartender, her voice distant and hollow. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her jacket and ran out of the bar, her heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and grief.

The streets blurred as Marlene made her way to the Ministry, her thoughts racing. She replayed the words in her mind—Athena's death, broadcast to the world. It felt surreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.

As she approached the grand entrance of the Ministry, her legs felt heavy, but she forced herself to keep moving. She needed answers, needed to confirm the devastating news with her own eyes. The bustling hallways of the Ministry were filled with murmurs and sorrowful glances, confirming the grim reality she was running toward.

Marlene pushed her way through the crowd, her heart aching with each step. Athena Ashryver was more than just her goddaughter; she was a symbol of strength and hope, a beacon of light in dark times. And now, that light had been extinguished.

Arriving at the main office, Marlene found herself surrounded by somber faces, each one reflecting the same pain and loss she felt. She stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of the news settling heavily on her shoulders. Athena was gone, and the world felt a little darker because of it.

As she stood there, memories of Athena flooded her mind—the little girl with boundless energy and fierce determination, the young woman who had grown into a formidable fighter and a beloved leader. Marlene's heart ached with the loss of her goddaughter, a pain that felt almost too much to bear.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered to herself, "Athena, my sweet girl, why did it have to be you?" The grief threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew she had to stay strong, for Athena, for the memory of her goddaughter who had given so much and had so much more to give.

Few knew Athena well, yet so many were touched by her presence and now mourn her deeply.

Will the world ever be the same?

— | —