Chapter XXXVIII: Tying Up Loose Ends

Both children were fast asleep. Poppy had chosen two beds by the window, from which one could overlook the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts. Melvin and Demeter would wake up to a familiar sight and, hopefully, a sunny morning.

They had been at Hogwarts for a bit over twenty-four hours now. The Estonian Aurors had brought them to the Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in Tallinn for observation, but Poppy and Minerva had marched in only half an hour later to take them all home to Scotland. Aleksandra, however, had been in quite a state, and Poppy had judged it wiser to transport her to St. Mungo’s. But the children and Morgaine had been brought to Hogwarts. There, Melvin’s arm had been treated, and then both he and Demeter had been given Calming Draughts and Sleeping Potions. And now, they were blissfully asleep.

Severus sighed. Blissful, indeed. Thanks to a well-placed Memory Charm, neither of the children would remember anything that had happened during their last night at Riverbed Manor. Once they woke up, they would be served with a carefully rehearsed story about the events at the manor. Severus had discussed this option thoroughly with Minerva and had not even minded Dumbledore giving his five Knuts. After all, the old man had for once been thinking straight. There was no need for the children to remember their encounters with the Dementors, no need for them to remember Lucius’ lunacy. And they had also agreed that Demeter was better off not knowing anything about her bonds to the Dark Lord just yet. Instead, the children would be told that there had been a fire, in which Alek and Lucius had died and Aleksandra had been injured. What they would tell them about Morgaine, however, Severus did not know.

‘I don’t know what more to do, Minerva.’ Poppy’s voice sounded from across the room, and Severus turned to face the matron and the Headmistress, who were standing at Morgaine’s bedside. They couldn’t see him, as he had not materialised, and he thought it just as well. They would only ask him for advice. And he had none to give.

‘There are no physical injuries,’ Poppy continued. ‘She should be awake. The Head Healer from St. Mungo’s said so, too. I’m at a loss.’

For the umpteenth time, she cast a diagnostic spell over Morgaine’s seemingly lifeless body. And for the umpteenth time, the spell confirmed what she had already said. Except from being exhausted, there was nothing wrong with Morgaine. And still, for some inexplicable reason, her vital signs were growing feebler by the hour.

‘It is almost as if she doesn’t want to wake up,’ Poppy said sadly, and Minerva laid a comforting hand on the matron’s shoulder, quietly looking back over her own. And Severus couldn’t help but wonder if the Headmistress knew that he was present.

Slowly, he turned to address the shadowy figure that was standing right beside him. She had been there since shortly after midnight, and it very much seemed as if she belonged there.

‘You have to go back, Morgaine,’ he said, unheard by anyone in the hospital wing except the woman he was talking to. ‘Your body is dying.’

‘Are you sending me away?’

She did not even look at her body, hadn’t done so once. And Severus knew why. She was afraid that her body would pull her back, and he knew that she did not want to leave him. But he also knew that she had to.

Severus slowly shook his head. Heavens, no! He wasn’t sending her away! With Morgaine by his side, he felt complete for the first time in many years. If it were up to him he would hold onto her and never let her go. And he knew that if he asked her to stay, Morgaine would gladly do so. But he couldn’t be that selfish.

‘Demeter needs you now,’ he said quietly. ‘She needs to be told about her heritage, and she will need your guidance to find the right path. You cannot leave her now.’

He watched Morgaine turn towards the window, where Demeter was still sleeping soundly. She was torn, Severus could sense that clearly. She didn’t want to return. And who was he to make her? Hadn’t she done enough? Hadn’t she sacrificed enough? Wasn’t it time for her to finally be allowed to decide over her own life? Her own death?

‘What if I regret it?’ Morgaine asked. ‘What if I regret returning to my body and blame Demeter for it?’

She hadn’t turned to face him, and Severus wasn’t even sure if she had been talking to him or herself or if she even was aware that she had voiced her concerns aloud.

‘Have you ever regretted having Demeter?’ he answered her question with another. ‘Have you ever wished this child had never been born?’

‘No. No, of course not.’ Morgaine moved closer to their daughter’s bed and brushed the girl’s black hair with a ghostly hand. ‘I love Demeter with all my heart. I’d die for her.’

‘Live for her instead, Morgaine,’ Severus implored her, although he felt as if his heart were breaking. ‘Return to your body, and take care of our child.’

Morgaine turned to face him, and blue eyes locked onto black ones as so many times before. And Severus could sense that she was torn.

‘Will you be waiting for me?’ she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper. ‘Will I find you when I die?’

‘You have already found me once. And I have no intentions of leaving you. I will always be right by your side, Morgaine. And when you die, many years from now, I will be waiting for you.’

They would move on together, Severus was certain of that now. That Morgaine had found him, that she had been able to leave her body and seek him out when she had needed him the most was his proof. They belonged together. And they would spend eternity by each other’s side. What did it matter if they had to wait a couple of years?

Morgaine smiled at him. It was a sad and longing smile, but nonetheless it reached her eyes. As she brushed his cheek with ghostly fingers, Severus turned his face and planted the tenderest of kisses on her palm.

‘Until we meet again, beloved.’

And so they took farewell, and as the first rays of sun touched the surface of the Black Lake, Morgaine faded and returned to the world of the living, the world in which she belonged.

~ ~ ~
Professor Riverbed’s memorial service was held on the second Saturday of January in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The House banners had been lowered, and only the Hogwarts coat of arms still hung at full height. Not a seat was empty. Students, staff, ghosts and elves alike had gathered to take farewell of the young teacher. They were all mourning his passing, but only very few of them knew in what horrible way Alek had died.

Aleksandra had come as well. She was sitting in the front row between her son and Headmistress McGonagall, head bent and her hands buried in the folds of her robe. She looked terrible. There weren’t any visible physical injuries, but her pale face and the fearful look in her eyes spoke volumes. There was a woman who had been hurt beyond imagination, and when Morgaine embraced Aleksandra after the service, she could literally feel the younger woman’s pain.

She took her for a walk through the grounds, away from all the people. Aleksandra didn’t need people to pat her shoulder and tell her what a lovely man her brother had been. She knew that. What she needed now was a friend.

The first time either of the women spoke was at the edge of the Black Lake.

‘Did he suffer?’ Aleksandra’s voice was croaky, and it was clear that she was holding back tears.

Morgaine slowly shook her head, only now realising that she hadn’t spoken to Aleksandra since the day Alek had been murdered. ‘No. It went very quickly. I doubt Alek even had the time to realise what curse Lucius was throwing at him.’

‘He came to tell me afterwards, you know. Lucius. He said there was no need for me to play the harlot anymore, that he had seen through the charade and punished Alek for his betrayal. And he said he’d kill Melvin next if we didn’t cooperate.’

Morgaine frowned. If Lucius had threatened Aleksandra with killing her son, then that must mean that he had never told her how important Melvin had been for his plan. And if Aleksandra had believed him and feared for her son’s life, that meant that Alek hadn’t told her either. He had taken the name of their ancestor to the grave.

For some moments, Morgaine contemplated whether she should tell Aleksandra how much danger her son had been in, that not only Demeter but also Melvin had been a part of Lucius’ plan to revive the Dark Lord. But what good would it do to tell Aleksandra that her great-grandfather had fathered the darkest wizards of the age?

It wouldn’t do any good at all, Morgaine decided. She knew herself how much it hurt to know. She knew how it felt to lie awake at night, wondering if the blood in one’s veins would one day turn into poison. She knew how it felt to be afraid of the Darkness within oneself. And so she held her peace. Aleksandra didn’t need to know.

A flock of birds took flight from a tree, and Aleksandra flinched and ducked slightly, as if trying to avoid an attack. When she realised that there was nothing to be afraid of, she gave a shrill laugh.

‘I’m terribly edgy nowadays,’ she excused herself, nervously flattening her robes with her hands. ‘Jumping at my own shadow, and seeing Dementors lurking in dark corners.’

‘That is only natural. You have been through quite an ordeal over the last weeks.’

‘Have I?’ Again, Aleksandra laughed. ‘How about you? You came for some days of peace and quiet and ended up a prisoner, in my house.’

She started to sob, and Morgaine took her into her arms, held her like a little child. ‘Hush, Aleksandra. None of this is your fault.’

‘I loved him.’ Aleksandra was crying in earnest now. ‘I really loved him once. I was so stupid.’

‘No more stupid than any of the other witches he charmed.’ Morgaine tenderly stroked Aleksandra’s hair. Many were the witches Lucius Malfoy had wrapped around his little finger in his time. He had possessed the gift to make the most insignificant witch feel like a queen. He would have pretended to worship the ground they trod on and promised them the moon when it had served his purposes. And they had all believed him. Just as Aleksandra had.

‘Is it wrong to feel happy that he’s dead?’

‘No, Aleksandra. It’s not wrong,’ Morgaine replied calmly, trying to find the words to explain why it wasn’t wrong, but failing. She had been taught that every life was precious, even the most wretched ones, but the night Lucius Malfoy had died, Morgaine had defied her grandmother’s teachings. She had wished him dead.

She could have saved him if she had wanted to. All she would have needed to do was ask Severus to help her. Even in his ghost form, he was more than capable of conjuring water, and together they could surely have saved Lucius’ life. But they had chosen not to. Instead, Severus had turned his back on Lucius to shield the children, and Morgaine had moved closer to watch Lucius Malfoy die, willing the flames to burn slowly so he would have the time to suffer for all the pain he had caused in his life. If she had held power over fire that night, Morgaine did not know. Most probably, Lucius had died just as so many witches and wizards before him had, but she remembered the whole scene as precisely as if she had watched it in slow-motion.

She had watched the flames climb higher and higher, incinerating the expensive fabric of Lucius’ tailored robes. She had watched his blond hair catch fire and turn to ashes. She had watched his alabaster skin blister in the heat. And she had watched his grey eyes widen in horror as he had finally realised what was happening. Only when he had fallen to his knees, his arms spread wide and his death cries ripping through the cold winter air, had Morgaine finally turned away. In the moment of his death, she had wanted Lucius Malfoy to be all alone. He had deserved to die lonely.

‘Lucius was guilty of many crimes, Aleksandra,’ Morgaine continued, now holding the younger woman at an arm’s length to look into her puffy eyes. ‘If he hadn’t been that influential, if he hadn’t had the means to wriggle himself out of it, Lucius would have been sent to Azkaban many years ago and suffered the Dementor’s Kiss. I think he got off easy.’

They talked for quite some time at the edge of the Black Lake, about their children, their future, everything and nothing at all. Lucius Malfoy, however, they never mentioned again. They had decided that he was not worth their time.

~ ~ ~
‘I am worried about Morgaine, Severus. She looks so tired, and she hasn’t been to the staff room after dinner for weeks. It’s not like her to be so ...’

‘Anti-social?’ Severus suggested.

Minerva nodded and took a sip of her tea. It must be cold by now, Severus thought. She had held onto the cup for about twenty minutes and talked about the weather before she had plucked up the courage to tell Severus why she had come to the dungeons.

‘Poppy has talked to Healer Rosewood at St. Mungo’s,’ Minerva went on. ‘She says it is natural to feel exhausted after having used such powerful magic as Morgaine used to call you. But it doesn’t explain her change of personality. It almost seems to me as if Morgaine is actively avoiding people.’

She is avoiding ghosts as well, Severus thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. Minerva didn’t need to know that Morgaine barely came down to the dungeons at all now. The Headmistress was worried enough as it was already.

‘Will you talk to her, Severus?’ Minerva urged. ‘Will you try to persuade Morgaine to rest?’

Severus nodded silently, but deep inside, he doubted that Morgaine would listen to him. She had not listened to Poppy either, and stubbornly insisted on teaching all her lessons already on the first day of term, only three days after they had returned from Estonia. She had not rested, and she had certainly not processed the things she had been through.

‘It’s enough trouble for Minerva to find a Defence teacher in the middle of the school year,’ she had argued. ‘She won’t have to look for a new Potions teacher as well, just because I am a bit under the weather.’

And so she had left the hospital wing to teach her classes and fulfil her duties as Head of House. She did her job well, but social, she was not. She would appear in the Great Hall for meals, patrol the corridors when it was her turn, but otherwise she wouldn’t leave her quarters unless she had lessons to teach. Whether she slept at night, Severus did not know. There were many things he didn’t know about Morgaine at the moment.

Something had changed between them. Ever since Morgaine had woken up in the hospital wing, she had seemed distant, and Severus could have sworn that she avoided his gaze. Also her mental barriers were fortified, and Severus did not dare to breach them. If she didn’t want to share her troubles with him, he couldn’t make her. Most probably, she had good reasons to distance herself from him.

Severus sighed. Somehow, he felt that everything was his fault. Why had he sent her back? Why had he not just held onto her and let her stay with him? Being together was what they both wanted, wasn’t it? And still, he had insisted that she should return. But he had not forced her, had he? He had simply pointed out that her time had no come yet and their daughter needed her. In the end, it had been her decision.

Yes, it had been Morgaine’s decision. But still, Severus could not get rid of the feeling that him sending her back to the world of the living had driven a wedge between them.

Little did he know that Morgaine’s reasons for keeping her distance were of a completely different nature. Nor did he know that she was already looking for help.

~ ~ ~
‘Are you saying that now, all of a sudden, it is alright for everyone to know?’ Morgaine didn’t know why she was yelling at the portrait of her great-grandfather. She had come to him to seek advice, since she had not known whom else to turn to, and now that he was giving her advice, she didn’t want to take it. She was too confused.

‘Not everyone, dear child. And now have a seat, I beg you.’

Without having noticed it, Morgaine had been pacing the office for a good ten minutes.

‘Please, sit.’

It felt as if all the energy were flowing out of her as she more or less collapsed on the chair that was standing right in front of Dumbledore’s portrait. And as so often over the last couple of weeks, unbidden tears welled up in her eyes. Stubbornly, she blinked them back.

‘Why, afi? Why did you never tell me?’

‘I was a fool, Morgaine,’ the former Headmaster replied. ‘I thought that shielding you, keeping you in the dark about your father, would help you choose the right path.’

‘Did it work?’ Morgaine asked cynically.

‘Don’t be silly, child. You know you are a good person. You have proven this over and over again. The way you cared for Severus and still do. The sacrifice you were willing to make for your child. I think your actions prove my theory that it is not our heritage that defines us, but our choices.’

‘And still you think that I need to tell Demeter?’

‘More for your sake than hers, to be honest, child. You cannot spend every waking hour being afraid that Demeter will find out by accident, as you did.’

Morgaine shook her head. The last thing she wanted was her daughter to come across their family secret as she had, by accident and without any explanations. Knowing that she had been able to cast a Dark curse already at a young age had haunted Morgaine for most of her life. She wished better for her child.

Demeter would be shocked, of course. Being told that one’s grandfather was none other than the Dark Lord himself was big news for a twelve-year-old. But Morgaine trusted that Demeter would understand. After all, the girl had already stated very clearly that she would only use her gift of Parseltongue for good.

Yes, Demeter would understand, accept and stubbornly prove that she was nothing like her grandfather. But Demeter was not the only one who needed to be told.

‘What about Severus?’ Morgaine asked quietly. Her throat was too tight for her to speak up. ‘He will feel deceived.’

‘By me, if by anyone, dear child,’ Dumbledore said patiently. ‘And Severus has already made very clear what he thinks about me. I cannot blame him, really.’ He absent-mindedly tugged at his slightly singed robes, but then quickly focused on Morgaine again. ‘What are you afraid of, child? How do you think Severus will react when you tell him?’

‘The Dark Lord has destroyed Severus’ life,’ she said in a desperate tone. ‘For goodness’ sake, the Dark Lord took his life. How do you think he will react?’

‘If I am not mistaken, Morgaine, Severus once said that you were his reason to survive. And I think, him still being here is proof for that. He will not turn from you for your father’s sake.’

Morgaine flinched.

‘Is that what you are afraid of, child?’ Dumbledore asked. ‘Is that why you are pushing Severus away? So he cannot push you away?’

‘What else can I do, afi?’ The tears Morgaine had fought back so desperately were now rolling down her cheeks. ‘I cannot bear him turning his back on me. Not now.’

‘Severus won’t turn away from you, Morgaine,’ Dumbledore replied softly. ‘Trust me, child. He won’t. Especially not now.’

~ ~ ~
‘Welcome, Demeter. I am glad you found the time to join us on such a sunny afternoon. I am sure you would rather be playing Gobstones with Mr Riverbed.’

‘Melvin has homework to do, so we wouldn’t have been playing today anyway,’ Demeter replied politely. ‘Besides, I have been taught to comply when called.’

‘Such diligence.’ Dumbledore smiled. ‘A trait you have inherited from your parents, no doubt. They, too, have always put duty before pleasure. It is not a bad trait to inherit, I think.’

‘Probably not.’ Demeter cast a glance towards her parents. The ghost of her father had nodded towards her when she had entered and was now hovering by the window, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Her mother sat beside him, hands folded in her lap. She had smiled at Demeter, but now she looked very serious, and Demeter started to wonder if her hexing that annoying Slytherin second-year earlier that week was a more serious offence than she had thought. But Professor Sprout had only taken five House points from her and not even given her detention.

‘The reason we called you here, Demeter,’ Dumbledore interrupted her thoughts, ‘is to discuss some other traits you might have inherited from your parents.’

Demeter frowned and looked up at the portrait of the former Headmaster. She knew, of course, that he was kin to her, but she had never really spoken to him. He had winked at her a couple of times from a portrait and wished her a good day, but that was about all. She also knew that her mother and Dumbledore hadn’t really been on speaking terms for quite some years and found it therefore a little odd that Dumbledore would be speaking for her mother. But maybe, they were about to discuss something her mother didn’t really want to speak of. That would certainly explain why she looked so uncomfortable. What made her father look like thunder, however, Demeter had no idea. Neither did she know why he kept his back resolutely turned towards Dumbledore. As far as she knew, the two men had been very close when they had been alive, and her father had put himself in great danger to fulfil Dumbledore’s wishes.

Once more, Dumbledore interrupted Demeter’s thoughts. ‘Tell me, Demeter, what traits do you think I am speaking of?’

‘Blue eyes and a hooked nose?’

The words escaped Demeter before she could stop them, and she immediately wondered if her answer had been inappropriate. The adults seemed all so terribly serious. But to her relief, Dumbledore smiled.

‘You certainly have your mother’s eyes. And yes, your father’s nose. You are a very beautiful girl.’

No reaction from her father, Demeter realised. It was almost as if he weren’t listening to Dumbledore. Mother’s face, however, had been lit up by the tiniest of smiles.

‘I think,’ Demeter said after having thought about Dumbledore’s question for some moments, ‘I have inherited my Potions skills from my parents. I think I am quite good. But don’t tell my Potions mistress. She’ll just make me work harder.’

Dumbledore chuckled. ‘Wherever did you get your sense of humour from, child? It’s rather charming.’

Demeter smiled uncertainly. She was only trying to make jokes because she had started to feel just about as uncomfortable as her mother looked. Why couldn’t she just say something, or Father? But instead, Dumbledore went on talking.

‘Are there any other traits or abilities you could have inherited from your parents, child?’

Demeter swallowed. There was one ability. An ability she hadn’t known about before the holidays. But she didn’t want to tell Dumbledore. It was private, a secret between her mother and herself.

‘He knows already, little one. Dumbledore knows that you and I can speak to snakes.’ Morgaine was standing now, back straight and hands closed into fists so tightly that her nails were cutting into her palms. ‘What we called you here for, Demeter, is to tell you why we can talk to snakes.’

‘You said that the gift of Parseltongue runs in the family,’ Demeter said. ‘You said that your father had probably been a Parselmouth.’

Morgaine nodded slowly and opened her mouth as if to speak. But no sound came from her lips. Instead she looked pleadingly towards the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

‘Demeter,’ the old man started, ‘we have reasons to believe that your mother’s father, your grandfather, was no other than the wizard who once called himself Lord Voldemort.’

‘Lord Vo… What?’ Demeter gaped at Dumbledore for a few moments, but as the old man didn’t seem to have anything more to say for the time being, she turned back to her mother. ‘You said you didn’t know who your father was.’

Morgaine flinched. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know. I … Demeter, I’m sorry.’

‘We do not know for certain, Demeter,’ Dumbledore started to explain. ‘Your grandmother never told anyone about your grandfather. But as I said, we have reasons to believe ...’

‘What kind of reasons?’ Demeter knew that it was rude to interrupt. But she didn’t care. Dumbledore had thrown the name Voldemort at her without any explanation, and it didn’t seem likely that she would get any from her mother at the moment. If she wanted to know, she would have to ask.

‘Your and your mother’s ability to speak Parseltongue, for instance.’

‘That’s no proof,’ Demeter declared stubbornly. ‘Unless you can prove that there is no other wizard in the world who can speak to snakes.’

‘There is also the fact that Voldemort has always been very interested in your mother,’ Dumbledore continued. He didn’t seem to care about Demeter’s interruptions. ‘I know that Voldemort was looking for her when she was little. And, Severus, I think you can confirm that Voldemort wasn’t happy at all when he found out that Morgaine had joined the Order of the Phoenix, that she had chosen the Light.’

Like Dumbledore, Demeter now turned towards her father and immediately wished that she hadn’t. If Severus had looked angry before, he was looking positively furious now. And the loathing in his eyes couldn’t be described with words.

‘You knew,’ he hissed, every syllable dripping with poison. ‘You knew all along.’

‘No, Severus, I didn’t know,’ Dumbledore replied calmly. ‘I might have guessed, yes. And if we are honest, then we have to admit that we are still guessing. Lucius didn’t present us with any proof.’

‘Lucius?’ Once more, Demeter didn’t care if she was interrupting. ‘What does Lucius have to do with everything?’

‘Lucius firmly believed that I am the Dark Lord’s daughter, little one,’ Morgaine said quietly. ‘And that you are his grandchild.’

‘Why would he even come up with an idea like that?’

For some moments, neither of the adults said anything. Severus was still glaring at Dumbledore as if he were about to cast yet another Killing Curse on the old man, but Dumbledore seemed unimpressed. Morgaine stood silent, her eyes on her daughter.

‘Well?’ Demeter demanded impatiently. ‘Is anyone going to tell me why on earth Lucius would think that Voldemort was my grandfather? That’s just absurd!’

In the end, it was once more Dumbledore who answered her question.

‘Lucius Malfoy has always been a very perceptive man. He saw that Voldemort was interested in your grandmother, and that he was furious when she fled with her child and hid her away. Lucius also saw that Voldemort was more interested in your mother than any other child that has ever been born into the fold. Then there was your mother’s talent for Legilimency and her aptitude for the Dark Arts … Lucius simply put two and two together. And when he learnt that you and your mother can talk to snakes, he thought that he held all the proofs in his hand.’

‘Proofs for what?’ Demeter heard her own voice crack. Why couldn’t anyone just spit it all out and explain everything to her?

‘Why would it matter to Lucius? Voldemort is dead.’

Again, the adults fell silent. Dumbledore looked at Morgaine, and so did Severus. But she didn’t meet either man’s gaze. Instead, she slowly approached her daughter.

‘To Lucius it mattered a great deal, little one,’ she said. ‘He has always been looking for power, and being close to Voldemort gave him that power. For many years, Lucius Malfoy was untouchable. When Voldemort fell, all Lucius’ power faded, and he was once more a mere wizard. A wizard with a good name and a Gringotts vault full of money, but still just a wizard. And he didn’t like it, not at all.’

‘But what has everything to do with me?’ Demeter pleaded. ‘With us?’

Morgaine took her daughter by the hand and led her towards the chair she had been sitting on earlier. Once Demeter was seated, she knelt down in front of her, taking the girl’s hands into hers. For Demeter, it was the most comforting gesture in the world.

‘Lucius wanted to gain us for his cause. He wanted to show the Death Eaters that the Dark Lord is still alive, in you and me. Imagine if he had succeeded. Imagine if he could have presented us to the old followers. They would have thanked him on their bare knees. And he would once more have held the power which has always been so dear to him.’

‘Present us to the Death Eaters? Did he think we’d play Dark Lord for him? Was he mental?’ Demeter burst out. ‘Did he seriously believe that we would do that?’

‘Lucius hadn’t much hope for me,’ Morgaine explained. ‘But he was hoping that you were still young enough to be taught what he thought were the right beliefs. That you would help him back to power.’

‘Me?’ Demeter was shocked. What the hell had Lucius been thinking? That she was ... Demeter felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Mother, the worst thing I have ever done was throw a Bat-Bogey Hex at Makdoumi the other day. You know I would never … Mother, I’m not evil!’

‘Of course you are not, little one. You are no more evil than I am. And the blood in our veins does not define who we are. We ourselves have to make our choices.’ Morgaine was speaking calmly now, and it seemed to Demeter as if she were talking only to her. The portrait and the ghost did not seem to matter to her. And Demeter hung on her every word. ‘Do you remember how I told you not to believe in anything Lucius told you?’

Demeter nodded. ‘You said I should listen to my heart first.’

‘Yes, little one. And I want you to remember that for the rest of your life. Trust your heart, Demeter. Trust that it is a good one.’