The Quiet After the Storm
A cottage sat within the shallow valleys of emerald hills within the Scottish Highlands. It seemed to float over a small stream that quickly ran through the maze of hills. It was a quaint building made of stone, bright green patches of ground, and dark wood. Its windows were thick, and no matter the time of day or your position, they always reflected the bright blue sky.
Before the quaint cottage was a narrow path that led from the side of a hill to the front door. A shimmering portal the color of dark, fertile earth opened up on this path. It shimmered and quaked for a moment, and then Hazel McGonagall stepped through. Her mother was on her heels, and the two stood on the path looking at the green hills for a long time.
The portal had closed long ago. Hazel's father had taught her to never leave a portal open at your back—you never know who is on your trail.
"You will be leaving here?"
"This will always be your home, Hazel, but without your father…"
Minerva just stopped. Her emotion knotted within her chest as usual. She was a woman of few words. She communicated with action and silence. Hazel nodded her understanding. She already knew her mother's answer. They were so different, yet so much alike. She turned and looked to the house.
She wanted to ask how he died and where she had found him, but she knew better. She would speak to Shylah later, and her wards would probably tell her more than she needed to know.
Before she could take a step toward the cottage, her mother handed her his cloak and a diamond that shimmered black and blue. She frowned at the large diamond, then looked to her mother. Minerva nodded. "It is what he wanted. He said… if ever…" Minerva fought back tears, and Hazel simply nodded again.
She smiled as she walked to the cottage. It was a sad smile, full of reminiscence. She had known what would happen to her father, and she knew she was unable to change it—merely delay it—but it still hurt. The finality of it made her soul tremble, and she knew, without doubt, that she would never be the same ever again.
The inside of the cottage was vast and much larger than its outside dimensions let on. The floors were made of wound-coat vines woven into thick, strong squares. It was more sturdy than any wood, and the vines themselves were a security and warning device.
Hazel walked to the back room, the vines beneath her feet twining as she walked over them, as if to determine her identity. She opened the silk-wood door and stopped at the entrance. It was her father's lab and practice room. There were marks on the walls and ceilings where experimental portals had burned into the layers of reality and left lasting marks.
His robes hung quietly in a dark wardrobe, and everything was nice and tidy. She looked over the room a few times, waiting for her mother. She was going to miss him. She wished she could cry three days and three nights for him, but that wasn't her. The tears she was giving to him had already been shed.
Now she wanted to know who killed him. She didn't want revenge; she wanted closure. She would define what that meant to her once she got all the information.
Her mother stepped behind her, and they stepped into the room together.
Instantly the room waved as if they had passed through a light film; then there was a subtle shimmer, and a projection of Montague McGonagall appeared before them. He smiled broadly, and both Hazel and Minerva's hearts twisted in their chests. "Well, humph." The Montague hologram scratched his nose. "Well, if you're watching this, it would seem that I failed. Don't be upset, love. I am so sorry to leave you. Don't blame yourself, and don't think you don't deserve love. I always believed that both Elphinstone and I had been the luckiest men in the world."
He smiled warmly at Minerva, and she allowed herself to cry for the second time. He looked to Hazel. "I know you did your best to help me, and I appreciate you for that. Use what your mother gave you wisely. Allow me to be there for you even in death." He looked to both of them and then around his lab. "I am going to miss this place. I know Hazel will make good use of it. I love you both."
With that, he was gone. Montague McGonagall, Traveler First Class, was dead.
As Hazel and Minerva were saying their goodbyes to Montague, Adam Ambrose was ranting in the main house of the Ambrose family. "Hazel is not only the Master of Fate; she is probably the most powerful diviner the seven known dimensions have seen in centuries, and we allowed her to slip through our fingers."
He took a deep breath and looked to the family council. Everyone cringed as they averted their eyes. Adam Ambrose was not head of the family because he was honored or revered. He was head because he was feared. One look and he could plant ideas or memories into the mind. He could also damage the mind to any degree he chose.
When he looked into Hazel's eyes, he could do none of it. He had been like an ant on the side of a mountain when he looked at her. And ever since, he had known that he had wanted her. There was no mind he could not have, and he would have Hazel Potter-McGonagall whether she wanted to be had or not.
He spun back around. "Has the Emotion Doll been found yet?" No one spoke; heads merely shook to indicate no. "I want to speak to Rosa now! If we leave things to her, our family will be destroyed!"
He sat down in his seat like a petulant child, his breaths coming out in harsh huffs. If they left things to Rosa, Hazel's mind might be destroyed—and I can't have that. His eyes flashed gold as he thought, and the room cringed again.