Violet: Power, Wisdom, Creativity, Magic
When he died, Albus was not afraid. He simply closed his eyes and released. When he opened them again, he saw many magical and wondrous things. He also saw many painful, sorrowful things.
Ariana's beautiful, smiling face. Aberforth's fist coming straight at him. Harry, circling Tom Riddle in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Gellert's wand aimed at his heart.
Harry's wedding to Ginny Weasley. Ron Weasley's to Hermione Granger. Albus chuckled at that, he always knew there was something there. Harry had a son, whom he named Albus.
Severus' stony face as he looked out a tiny, dirty window. The last moments of Lily Potter's life. The death of Sirius Black. A basilisk, rearing its ugly head to sink its fangs through Harry.
Cedric Diggory, Myrtle Miller, the only students to die on his watch. His eyes filled with tears. Colin Creevey, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody. Names and faces swirled around him in a mist of confusion.
He laughed and smiled, seeing the faces of Ron, Hermione, and Harry's children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Lily and James would have been so proud, he thought—and then they stood before him too, happy and youthful as the day he married them. He saw his own flight from Hogwarts, wearing those ridiculous violet robes Minerva had given him that he had so adored.
Filius—Septima—Pomona—Severus—Poppy—Minerva—each of their faces burst clearly into his mind. Severus, the loneliest man Albus had ever known, struck down in cold blood, not even by the Dark Lord's own hand. Poppy caring tenderly for each of her patients. Septima, whom he had barely gotten to know, but who missed him terribly. Filius, strong, true, and wise despite his insecurities. He saw the curse that hit Pomona on the lawn. She went on teaching in chronic pain until she couldn't any longer. Neville Longbottom took her place, Albus saw, smiling broadly.
Minerva. So stoic, the consummate leader, but hurting more than Albus cared to see. So different from the girl she used to be, yet still so wonderful and loyal. She would die a very old woman, peacefully and without pain.
He heard a train whistle—was that what it was? and turned around. Robes settled onto his frame. Before him, facing away, stood Harry. He was transfixed by a small, ugly creature that twitched, lying curled under a chair. And Albus's mind was suddenly clear. He knew what to do.
Harry took a step closer to the creature.
"You cannot help," Albus told him softly.