Chapter Thirteen
Klaus had been relocated to the hospital wing overnight to ensure that he wasn’t suffering from shock, concussion, or any other maladies that might have been picked up from duplicity grass or the other weeds and fungi of the forest. When he was brought in, a few other students laid up there shook their heads, muttering words to the effect of “Here’s Potter again,” but the nurse, Madam Pomfrey, instantly discerned that he was a new student with his own identity; as a medic, clearly she was used to looking below the surface and carefully assessing the details. And besides, Klaus’s scar had been smudged.
After a somewhat anxious but at least peaceful overnight stay, Klaus was released from the hospital wing. Waiting for him outside the doors was Violet, holding Sunny in her arms, who clapped happily to see her brother safe and well.
“It’s good to see the two of you,” Klaus smiled, and the Baudelaire siblings had a brief and somewhat complicated hug – one of relief at their narrow escape, happiness at their safety, and one of intense gratitude at once again being in one another’s company.
“Dumbadore,” Sunny reminded Violet, waving a slip of parchment at her.
“Oh, yes,” Violet replied. “Klaus, Professor Dumbledore sent us a note asking to see us as soon as you were let out. It has directions and a password to his office.”
“I guess there is a lot of explaining to do,” sighed Klaus.
“Maybe more on his part than ours,” Violet suggested. “He saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione last night, so I’m sure he must have picked up all the details of what happened yesterday. We just have to find out what happens now.”
I’m sure that you, too, are quite eager to know what will happen now, and as it so happens, now is the perfect time for you to imagine your own ending to this book rather than the unfortunate one that really occurs. You may make-believe that Dumbledore told the Baudelaires that Count Olaf had been captured and imprisoned for the rest of his life, and that Draco Malfoy and his cohorts had been expelled from Hogwarts. You may believe that Violet, Klaus, and eventually even Sunny spent the next few years of their education in Hogwarts, before graduating with distinction and taking jobs in the Ministry of Magic mediating between the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Sometimes, I like to take a few hours away from writing the Baudelaires’ tales, and, if I am in one of my safe houses that has not yet been burned to the ground, and the weather happens to be nice, I like to look out of my barred windows over the beautiful landscape and imagine that Beatrice is alive, and with me. But reality and fantasy are not the same thing, and nobody could simply wave a magic wand to make the Baudelaires’ lives better. There is only one ending to this story, and that is the true one, and it is the one I am about to tell you.
The Baudelaires arrived at Dumbledore’s office, and the gargoyle guarding it leapt aside at the mention of the words “Headless jelly baby.” Within, a winding automatic staircase, which Violet noted could probably be engineered not with magic but with a mechanical device, brought the Baudelaires to the high top of a tower, where the door to Dumbledore’s office waited.
They knocked, and almost instantly, a voice replied, “Enter.”
Inside was en elegant office filled with strange, silver devices set on pedestals, but the Baudelaires didn’t have time to notice this; all their attention was on Dumbledore, who smiled gently at them.
“Do come in, Baudelaires,” he said, beckoning with one hand while conjuring up three cushioned chairs for them, one of which was particularly high so that Sunny could see over his desk. The Baudelaires sat down, and looked at the headmaster of Hogwarts.
“There aren’t many students who, in just a few days, could cause such merry havoc,” he said. “Little wonder people occasionally mistake you for Harry, Klaus, even though you don’t look alike at all. Although perhaps if Mullish Simmer had tried to capture the real Harry Potter, he would have gotten away with it, so perhaps we should be thankful.”
“What happened to Mr. Simmer?” asked Klaus. “Who was he?”
“A former agent of Voldemort, who had concealed his past and installed himself at the Ministry,” Dumbledore answered. “As I believe he informed you, Klaus, he only came to Hogwarts to oversee the Muggle transfer program because he believed it would give him a chance to attack or capture Harry Potter – for which Voldemort would have one day rewarded him highly. Greed is a terrible thing… and now he will spend the rest of his days, I fear, in the wizarding prison of Azkaban.
“But now,” Dumbledore said, his expression becoming more serious, “let us talk about the man who called himself Professor Vulpine.”
“Count Olaf,” Violet said, fiercely.
Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I know that now,” he said, sadly. “Of course, there really was a Nossifer Vulpine, a quite talented wizard who would have made a fine Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Alas, after Count Olaf’s deception was revealed, we searched the borders of Hogwarts, and found Nossifer’s body hidden among the trees. As Count Olaf admitted in the Howler you recorded, he had waylaid the wizard, murdered him, and stolen his things, even though he could not use any of Nossifer’s magical artifacts himself.”
“Just how did Olaf get through the castle’s magical defences?” asked Klaus.
“He said that he couldn’t see anything at first, but knew there was something suspicious,” Violet added.
“I think I can explain this,” Professor Dumbledore said. “One of Olaf’s agents – the fortune-teller he mentioned – must have been able to obtain documents of Mr. Poe’s regarding my invitation for you to join this school. Whether or not this fortune-teller is a magical individual, they may have been able to connect my name to this location, and direct Olaf here. But how, you may ask, did Hogwarts’s defences not turn away Count Olaf, but instead draw him in?”
Dumbledore sighed. “The answer, like so many answers, lies in the past. This is not the first time a Muggle transfer program has been attempted at Hogwarts. The last time was many decades ago, and had to be aborted after a mere few weeks, because one of the Muggle students was causing so much trouble trying to extort magical secrets from other students.” Dumbledore shook his head. “An old man’s mistake… I never made the connection between the bitter young man with a single eyebrow, and the sly professor wearing a turban.”
“Insider?” asked Sunny, astonished.
“I take it that that means ‘So Count Olaf knew about magic all along?’” Dumbledore translated, and the Baudelaires nodded. “After the program was cancelled, the Muggle students involved had their memories altered to remove their knowledge of Hogwarts and magic. But it is illegal to erase the memories of minors – merely to obscure them. A veil was cast over the young Olaf’s memories of Hogwarts, but returning to such a familiar area, with its aura of magic, must have triggered some part of those memories, and drawn him in.” He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I leave it up to you to decide whether this could have been predicted or not.”
“I’m not sure it could,” Violet said, frowning. “It must have been such a small chance that he would ever return here, and you couldn’t have known what he would grow up to be.”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” Dumbledore mused. “I often ask myself such questions…”
“Where is Count Olaf now, though?” asked Klaus.
“Escarper?” Sunny asked.
“Oh, dear me, no,” Dumbledore replied, surprised. “With your Howler bellowing his misdeeds across Hogwarts, Olaf would have been very lucky to escape. The staff gave chase as soon as they realised what was happening, and brought him in – it was Professor Snape, actually.”
The Baudelaires looked at each other, wondering if they should thank Professor Snape, even though he had treated them with such disdain. “So, is Olaf in the hands of the authorities now?” asked Violet.
“That, I’m afraid, is the bad news,” Dumbledore replied, sadly. “The wizarding world is forbidden from interfering in Muggle affairs. Count Olaf was turned over to an agent of the Ministry of Magic, who erased his memory of the past few days. The plan was to place him in the vicinity of a Muggle police station so that he would be captured without wizards needing to step in. Unfortunately, as that Ministry agent was assessing whether Olaf’s memory had been correctly modified, Olaf knocked him out and stole his wallet… so, I regret to say, Count Olaf is once again on the loose.”
Violet, Klaus, and Sunny sighed sadly.
“At least we’ll know what to look out for, now,” Violet said. “He surely won’t be able to return to Hogwarts again.”
“And that, I am afraid, is the worst news of all,” Dumbledore explained. “The Ministry views Count Olaf’s interference, the fact that he followed you here, and Mullish Simmer’s status as a dark agent as being an unacceptable disruption of the Muggle transfer program. Your education has been cancelled, Baudelaires, and I must return you to the Muggle world.”
The Baudelaires’ hearts sank. You must surely have known this was coming, but the Baudelaires had thought that, with Olaf dealt with, their troubles at Hogwarts would be over, and that with their new friends they would be more than able to deal with individuals such as Professor Snape or Draco Malfoy. Having to leave another home that, if not perfect, was certainly a wonderful place, was a terrible blow.
“I sometimes feel like we’re cursed,” Klaus confessed. “Since the fire, we’ve had so many guardians, and none of them have lasted long…”
“Let me assure you, Klaus,” Dumbledore said, firmly, “that if you were under a curse, I would know about it. But you are not under any kind of magical enchantment whatsoever. I cannot wave my wand and give you a better life, but I can tell you this: It is possible for you to have a better life. It is possible for you to one day escape from Count Olaf forever. Nothing magical prevents it.”
“I don’t know how we can return to the Muggle world with memories of how much better things could be,” pleaded Violet.
“You can – the same way Olaf did, now and in the past,” Professor Dumbledore said. He produced a spindly wand from his pocket. “I requested the right to be the one to return you to the Muggle world, and so I will accompany you on your last magical journey. Then, I’m afraid, I must alter your memories so that you recall none of this. The magical world’s secrecy must be preserved; if the existence of magic became common knowledge to Muggles, chaos would descend. I am so sorry, Baudelaires; I only hope you can understand why I must do this.”
The Baudelaires gave a brief nod, although their heads were already downturned to hide the tears brimming in their eyes. This was not like losing their parents, or like losing Uncle Monty, who continued to live on in their memories. Once they left Hogwarts, they would recall nothing of anything they experienced there, ever.
“Perhaps not ever,” Professor Dumbledore said, and the Baudelaires started, wondering if they had been thinking aloud. “Look at Count Olaf. Returning to this place, his memories began to stir, and perhaps yours will too. Maybe you will be hiking one day, and crest a hill to find Hogwarts waiting for you. Or perhaps you will be walking down the street, and bump into Harry Potter again. I cannot say what the future holds, Baudelaires, but I can say this: There is always hope. Always.”
He stood up, and the Baudelaires stood up too. They knew, instinctively, that this was the end – and so it was. Professor Dumbledore led them out of his office, and down the winding stair, the Baudelaires standing sadly behind him. But their last journey was not without old faces.
At the bottom of the stairs, Sunny looked back up towards Dumbledore’s office, and on a higher stair, saw a house-elf watching her go, sadly. The house-elf jumped in surprise on being observed, but then raised a tiny hand to wave, before vanishing. In reply, Sunny raised her own hand. She would miss the bustle of the kitchens, but perhaps she could take up cooking herself.
Outside of Professor Dumbledore’s office, three more people were waiting – Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“Just passing by, I assume?” Dumbledore asked, a twinkle in his eye – and he stepped aside for just a moment to give the Baudelaires some time with the friends they had known so briefly.
“We were told you would have to leave,” Harry said.
Klaus nodded. “Not just leave – our memories will have to be erased, too.”
“Oh, come on!” Ron cried. “That’s so out of order!”
Hermione coughed loudly, and jabbed a finger in Dumbledore’s direction.
“I mean, uh, I’m sorry to see you go,” Ron amended. “It’s not fair.”
“Yes, you’re good students,” Hermione said. “Brilliant students. I’d have liked to know you for longer.”
“Me too,” Ron added.
“And me,” Harry said. “I hope I helped – with Count Olaf, I mean.”
“You did,” Violet replied. “I wish I didn’t have to forget your kindness.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other again someday,” Harry suggested. “We still live in the same world, even if we don’t go to the same school.”
“Maybe,” Sunny said quietly.
“Thank you for that,” Klaus said. “Thank you for everything you did.”
“Thank you, too,” Harry said – and then Dumbledore stepped in, and it was time for the Baudelaires to move on. Harry, Ron and Hermione watched the Baudelaires depart down a long corridor until they turned a corner, and Sunny watched them over Violet’s shoulder, until they parted eyes, and parted ways.
It was not long, however, before another familiar face popped up – Eric Legger met them as they approached the entrance hall.
“What’s going on?” he asked, confused. “Everyone’s talking about Professor Vulpine, and you…”
“Vulpine was a man who’s chasing us for our fortune,” Violet explained. “We stopped him here, but he escaped again, and now we have to go, too.”
“What?!” Eric cried. “But – that’s –” He looked appealingly at Dumbledore.
“I am sorry, Eric, but it is not my decision,” Dumbledore said sadly. “There are some rules we all must follow.”
“Oh. Well…” Eric turned to the Baudelaires. “But I live with my Muggle family during the holidays. So you never know. Maybe, one day…”
The Baudelaires nodded, hearing again that magical word, “Maybe.” Nobody knows the future – not all of it. I have researched a great deal of the Baudelaire story, but even I do not know the whole story of everything that happened to the Baudelaires, and I know very little about Eric Legger, having only had time to search half his house before he returned home and interrupted my research. So I cannot say if the Baudelaires ever met Eric Legger again, any more than I can tell you if they ever met Harry, Ron, or Hermione again, or returned to Hogwarts. But there was always that “maybe,” and so perhaps there is always hope, after all.
Professor Dumbledore led the Baudelaires away, across the entrance hall, down the steps of Hogwarts, and towards a waiting carriage, which a smoky Thestral was hitched up to. As Dumbledore opened the door to the carriage to let the Baudelaires in, though, they heard hurrying footsteps, and Dumbledore looked over their shoulders at another student arriving.
It was Karmel, looking flustered, and clearly having run to get there. She and the Baudelaires stared at one another for a moment, memories of her coldness and their warmth passing between them – and then Karmel held out her hand.
All three Baudelaires took Karmel’s hand, and shook it. No words passed between the Baudelaires and the magical student this time, but there was an unspoken message, a message which suggested that, just maybe, things would be different in the future. And then the Baudelaires climbed into the carriage with Dumbledore, and began to trundle away from the castle, Karmel watching them go.
“If we have to return to the Muggle world with our memories gone, there’ll be a lot of explaining to do,” Klaus said. “We’ve been away for a week or so. What will Mr. Poe think?”
“That, too, has been thought of,” Dumbledore explained. “Just like Count Olaf in the past, and in the present, there are ways of preventing anyone from knowing you were ever absent.” He pulled a small item out from his pocket – a delicate hourglass, on a long chain. “This is a Time-Turner – very few people in the world are permitted to use one of these, but I have been given one for this purpose. I will take the three of you back to a point just after we departed for Hogwarts. There will be no questions about your absence because, from everyone’s view, there will have been no absence.”
Klaus’s head dropped sadly, and he and his sisters were silent until the carriage finally drew to a halt, and all three Baudelaires stepped with Dumbledore onto the path out of Hogwarts, and walked out of its boundaries. There, Dumbledore once again held out his arms for the Baudelaires to take, and when they did, they went whirling through the tunnels of space again.
They landed in a wooded lane they recognised as being a short distance away from where they had left Mr. Poe a few days ago, and gone with Professor Dumbledore – who now was once again pulling the Time-Turner from his pocket, on its long loop of chain. But he hesitated for a second, looking at the tiny hourglass.
“Indulge an old man’s curiosity for a moment,” he said. “You may find it worth your while.” He reached into a drooping pocket and pulled out an object that looked, to the Baudelaires, quite ordinary but also quite an odd thing to have in one’s pockets, although they accepted that Dumbledore was quite an unusual man. It was a small ceramic bowl fitted with a tight lid, which would not have looked out of place in a tea set.
“Please try and open this,” he asked. The Baudelaires looked at one another curiously, and then Violet stepped forward. She gripped the small handle of the lid and tugged at it a few times, but it wouldn’t budge. Klaus tried after her, and then even Sunny attempted it, but the lid of the bowl stayed stuck fast. Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to lose a little of their twinkle at this sight.
“A pity, a pity,” he sighed, drawing his wand.
“What exactly is that?” asked Violet, curiously.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dumbledore shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.” He used his wand to trace curling shapes in the air around the bowl – and suddenly, it sprouted a pair of wispy, ghostly wings, and took off of its own accord. Dumbledore and the Baudelaires watched it for a moment, as it hovered away into the sky, before Dumbledore retrieved the Time-Turner once again.
“Put this around your necks, please,” he requested, and Violet and Klaus put the long and loose chain of the time-turner around their necks, with a long loop draping down to catch Sunny, too. Dumbledore, his head also through the chain, examined the Time-Turner, and then began to flip it quickly but carefully in his hands.
The green of the leaves, the grey of the road, the blues and oranges of the sky – these colours blurred around the Baudelaires as they seemed to fall backwards, losing their grip on the world around them –
And then it stopped, and suddenly it was a dark evening, and the street lamps were on. Quite a way down the street were the dim shapes of five people – one infant, two children, and two adults, one of whom was getting into a car. Quick as a flash, Dumbledore pulled another silver trinket out of his pocket – something that looked like a cigarette-lighter – and clicked it. The nearby street lamps went out, and everyone present was plunged into darkness.
“Baudelaires,” Dumbledore’s voice said, in the distant darkness. “I failed to recognise Count Olaf – this I admit. But there were other Muggle students at Hogwarts with him, and they proved far more competent and adaptive than he did, and just as it is a loss to Hogwarts that you are leaving, it was a loss to Hogwarts then that they had to go. I recognise you in those students from so long ago, who have remained in my memory. Your parents would have been proud.”
Before the Baudelaires could say anything, Dumbledore had clicked the device again, and the lights came on – just in time to illuminate a car approaching them, a car which halted at the sight of these four people standing in the road. The driver’s door opened, and out of it climbed Mr. Poe.
“Baudelaires!” he cried, in surprise. “And Dumbledore? Didn’t I just –”
Dumbledore swept his wand across the scene, and all became quiet.
The Baudelaires gradually became aware, as if they had just woken from a long dream, that they were sitting in the back of Mr. Poe’s car. Mr. Poe was sitting in the front seat, also in a trance-like state. The car engine was rumbling, and the street lamps ahead shone on an empty road.
After a while, it occurred to Klaus to ask, “Mr. Poe, where are we?”
“What? Oh, Klaus, all these questions,” Mr. Poe chuckled. “Why, we’re – ah – hmm.” He paused. “You know, I don’t quite recall why we’re here.”
“Aren’t we meant to be going to a new school?” Violet asked.
“Odplays,” Sunny murmured, which meant “I don’t see any schools around here.”
“Of course you’re going to school, but I wouldn’t take you to one in the dead of night,” Mr. Poe said, and scratched his head. “We must just have been going for a drive. I was given this new company car when I was promoted to Vice President in Charge of Coins, but I don’t think you’ve had a chance to see it in the works yet. It’s quite marvellous.”
“I suppose,” Violet said, the mechanical gears in her brain starting up. “What exactly is different about it?”
“Yes,” said Klaus, his knowledge of car history filling his head. “Is it a recent model?”
“Gnasha,” Sunny said, giving the inside of the door a satisfying bite.
Mr. Poe put the car back into gear, and continued his drive down the evening street, his own mind filled with scattered details about cars and schools. He was sure he’d found one recently for the Baudelaires. He had a sudden idea that there were a number of portfolios lying on his desk, including one for an establishment that sounded quite distinguished. He’d remind himself of those in the morning – for some reason, the details had quite escaped him…
The Baudelaires drove off, into the dark. A tall man watched them go, and across the street, another man watched him, and that I know for certain.
Of course, I'm not worried. 
I know you don't post fics a lot, but the ones you do post are always brilliant, and I'm looking forward to reading other things you write, whether it be in the near or far future.
Of course, I'm not worried. 
I know you don't post fics a lot, but the ones you do post are always brilliant, and I'm looking forward to reading other things you write, whether it be in the near or far future.
