Death was something that the Great Madam Solomon did not fear. On the contrary, while others feared death and tried to cheat against it by the use of powerful wands, stones, Invincibility Cloaks, Elixir of life, or Horcruxes, she welcomed death like an old friend. She has been waiting for so long – for almost two centuries to be exact – and who would have thought that a simple bee sting would be the cause of it, normally, people would easily heal such allergic reactions, but Madam Solomon did not ask for medical attention, even when the Ministry insists on giving it to her. No. It was her time. It was her fate. And as a Moirai who has done nothing but tell prophecies of the fates of others, it is about time she accepted her own. But before she would die, she called for her descendant. Morgan Diggory.
After learning about Madam Solomon's condition, Morgan wasted no time in going to the home of oldest Moirai-Witch in the mountains. Away from civilization. Away from the buzzing noises of the Ministry. When he came there, there were Aurors surrounding the perimeter, and to his surprise, he saw Hermione Granger standing outside, no doubt was accompanying the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebot.
"Hermione," Morgan greeted.
"Morgan," Hermione offered him a smile.
Morgan sighed, "what was it?"
"An allergic reaction to bee sting," Hermione said. "She won't take any medication – she won't even let the Healers come closer to the mountains."
"Ah, so that's why I saw the Healers at the bottom," he muttered. "Well, can't really blame her, she's lived – what – two centuries?"
"A hundred and seventy... she's just fifteen years older than Dumbledore."
"That's long enough, probably just waiting for this happen."
Hermione could sense the bitterness in Morgan's joke. Though he tried to show that he understood Madam Solomon, she could see him already mourning, she understood why. Madam Solomon was his teacher – his mentor.
"I'm so sorry, Morgan," Hermione held his hand.
Morgan sighed once again and patted her hand. "It's fine... we all die someday, right? Besides, she's a Moirai, she knew that this was coming... eventually."
The door of Madam Solomon's room opened and came out the Minister himself. Kingsley's eyes fell on Morgan. He's grown old, Morgan thought as he observed the Minister.
"Mister Diggory, Madam Solomon said that you just arrived," Kingsley said.
"Did she?" Morgan chuckled.
Kingsley moved aside and lets Morgan to the door, but before Morgan could enter, he patted the man on the back and said, "my condolences," and then left with Hermione to wait outside with the other Aurors.
The first thing that Morgan noticed when he entered the room was the old woman sitting on her comfortable chair with a quilt over her lap. She wore her hair to a bun, wore her expensive looking and shining robes, her jewelry, and did not look like a dying two-hundred-year-old witch.
"I see you've prepared for your tomb," Morgan mused.
Madam Solomon let out a wheeze, which Morgan believed to be a chuckle, and with a whisper she said, "I have lived by life the way I wanted, let me die in the way I want."
"And that is by an allergic reaction to a bee sting? Tell me, are you on a glamour spell or something?"
"Potion," Madam Solomon corrected him. "Wouldn't want to look like a pitiful old woman at the paper – next thing I need is Rita Skeeters making a mockery of me."
Morgan took a stool and sat down beside the old woman. "You know that I would hunt her down if she did that... you're untouchable... people will forever know your name, no matter what Skeeters write."
"One hundred and seventy years... four wars... I think I've done enough... I've already settled my legacy – I heard that they're going to rename a floor at the Ministry after me – what an honor," her sarcasm was heard.
Morgan smiled. "You were a good mentor, Madam Solomon, and I will never forget what you taught me."
Madam Solomon smiled, she tried to reach for Morgan, but her weak hands prevent her so. Seeing her struggle, Morgan reached out to her and held her hand as lightly as he could.
"And you were the best student I ever taught."
"That's not true, Vivian was –"
"Vivian fought only for herself – I know it's harsh, but it's the truth," she sighed. "I am so happy that you did what was right – for the good of both the Wizarding World and the Muggle World."
"So... any last-minute prophecies before you meet your old friend?" Morgan asked.
"Yes."
Morgan fell silent. It was meant to be a joke, looking up to Madam Solomon, he saw her looking at him with a serious gaze. That never meant well. She then raised her bony finger to the direction of the wall. Getting to his feet, Morgan went the wall and saw a small tapestry. It was of a phoenix, Morgan was about to ask her what it was, but when he turned to Madam Solomon he saw her eyes closed, body still and her hand limp at the armrest.
Atropos Solomon was dead, and what she left was a prophecy that Morgan will only understand in four years' time, once the phoenix gives his feather to a boy and when a child is stolen from her family.