Written for Round 6 of the QLFC. Almost halfway through the initial rounds! We can do it, Tornadoes!
(Prompts detailed at the bottom.)
I wash my hands, cupping the cool water and bringing it to my face. The coolness lessens the fog clouding my senses.
In the mirror, my reflection stares back at me. Dark circles under my eyes, like bruises. Hair more brown than red, deflated but looking worse than when it was lively and unruly and bright fiery red. Cracked and chapped lips. Prominent freckles. A gaunt face, defining bony cheeks and creating long and deep shadows.
I've lost weight. Perhaps this would have made the old me happy. The new me doesn't care, can't bring herself to care.
My face is fixed in a permanent frown, lips pressed together and eyebrows drawn tight. Everything's a blur. Too much to take in. It could be Monday or Saturday, June or January.
Except it's not. I would never forget this day. Lily's been nagging me through the keyhole about today, as if I could possibly forget.
"Go out and enjoy yourself, Rose. You need to learn to live again. Like old Rosie." Lily had told me, a frown marring her delicate features. "I'll join you. We'll go into Godric's Hollow dressed as witches. The Muggles wouldn't have a clue." she giggled, before turning serious again. "Just for Halloween, alright?"
That was the last time I'd seen her, months back. Two days later, I locked myself in my house. I've been starving for the past few days, the pain becoming a dull ache in my stomach. My food storage ran out a short while ago. I'm still alive because someone, probably Lily, has been paying my water bills for me.
A tentative knock at the door. I turn off the faucet and head downstairs to answer.
As expected, it's Lily. More morose, but still Lily. Perhaps it hasn't hit her as hard, but they were her aunt, uncle, and cousin. The mood of our other relatives would have some effect, at the very least.
"Rosi - you're not dressed," Lily frowns at my bathrobe, which is covered in dirt and grime accumulated from who knows how long. Lily's in her witch 'costume' already, black robes and a black hat, her wand in hand.
"Haven't been feeling well," I say. Which is true. I haven't been feeling well. Not since their deaths.
"I'll get you dressed," Lily offers, pushing her way in despite my unwelcoming position in the doorway.
"Did you get a haircut?" Lily asks, squinting at my hair.
I nod. Months ago, if that's what she means. I haven't been able to muster up enough anger to do another. Nowadays I feel empty. I no longer have to care.
Lily leads me up the stairs, into the bathroom, where the light's still on. She cleans my face, the best she can, then gently strips me down and helps me into the bathtub, turning on the tub's faucet.
She leaves the bathroom for a moment as the water rises past my ankles. The bathtub is small, but the sides of the tub reach my shoulders, compensating for the lack of room.
Lily walks back in with a heap of robes and old Hogwarts school uniforms. She drapes them over a bar above the tub, where they dangle precariously.
"Bubbles?" Lily asks, digging in a cabinet before pulling out a dusty bottle of bubble soap. "Your favorite, strawberry."
I don't like strawberry anymore. I don't like any scent or smell or flavor. The trivial things in life seem pointless to me.
But I make no protest as she dumps the contents of the bottle into the rapidly rising water. The water churns, mixing the bubble soap quickly.
Lily turns off the tub faucet.
"Now, let's choose a witch costume!" Lily exclaims, eyes twinkling. "Personally, I love this one, don't you?" She holds up a set of clothes.
I don't process the sight, and instead nod absently.
"Alright, how about we switch the tie?" Lily picks up another tie. This time I see it. It's green and silver. A Slytherin tie.
"Scorp's tie, right? We'll see him sometime tonight. Isn't that exciting?"
Right. The one I kept from 7th year.
I haven't seen Scorpius since right before I locked myself in my house. He would have been the perfect boyfriend, I'm sure, comforting me and providing me with what I needed.
But no, not even Scorpius could help me, not now. He didn't need to be involved any more than he already was. He'd already done more than I could have imagined.
"He's very worried, you know," Lily babbles on, exchanging clothes with expertise. "What about this?"
"Sure," I mumble.
"Great! It'll look lovely." Lily beams. She helps me out of the tub and into the apparel she's chosen.
She pulls me to my room, to stand in front of the full-length mirror.
"You look great," Lily says, despite my dripping hair and still gaunt face.
I don't see the costume. I don't see my face. Instead I see him.
I crumple to the floor, clutching my head and screaming.
I don't know how long it takes, but eventually I stop screaming and curl up into ball instead, sobbing like a child. Lily slides an arm around me and makes shushing noises, occasionally murmuring nonsensical words. The action reminds me of Mum, and I cry harder.
By the time my sobs turn to hiccups, Lily has already left her spot next to me on the floor and is bustling around my room. After a minute of digging through my closet, she pulls out a black cloak.
"This'll have to do," she says, "I couldn't find anything lighter than this. Should keep the cold out and still match your costume."
I stand up and put it on. The material weighs me down, and the feeling makes me suddenly cold inside.
Cold and empty. Hollow.
"Time to face the world," Lily proclaims, before frowning. "Where's your wand?"
"Lost it." The truth. I really did lose it. Only, that was a year ago, and it certainly wasn't voluntary.
A pause.
"Well, we'll get you a new one," Lily says finally. "Just stick with me and we'll be fine."
We go downstairs and out the front door. The night is chilly and snow falls just outside the porch overhanging. I tighten my cloak around me, but all it does is make me feel a tightness in my chest; some unexplained anger, rather than warmth and comfort.
Godric's Hollow is filled with twinkling lights, the lights in homes shining through the windows. My house is perhaps the only one without the lights on inside. I don't have candy to give. I don't want candy in return.
"Let's go, Rose," Lily tugs on my arm, and I follow her out onto the street.
The street is coated in a thin layer of snow. The houses surrounding it are festive and welcoming, but the road itself is isolated. It's as if Lily and I are in a completely different world.
"Oooh, that way!" Lily says, turning on a whim and pulling me down the street. I follow her, mostly because I don't have many other options.
"I wonder if anyone's going to say our costumes look 'realistic'," Lily whispers conspiratorially. I shrug. That's the last thing on my mind.
We turn a corner, and suddenly we are bombarded by twenty freckled faces.
"Rosie!" The crowd choruses, and I'm hit with a wave of memories and vivid emotions.
In the blink of an eye, the tide of overwhelming nostalgia is gone.
As I am questioned by fifteen or so of the people, I search the people at the back of the group. Scorpius is not there. I am not surprised; my family never truly liked him, and would not have invited him to what they considered a family event.
Grandma and Grandpa Weasley are there, frail and old. It is no secret, I am sure, that they may not live to see another year. I imagine they are happy that I am finally being united with the family before their deaths.
Then there is Aunt Ginny. She seems broken, as if the sight of me has brought back the pain she has been through. I can see distrust in her eyes, and I know that she secretly blames me. I was, after all, the only survivor of the tragedy that befell my parents and brother.
Next is Albus. We had never really been friends, or even acquaintances. He was closer to Hugo more than anyone. Perhaps he feels it is not his place to speak to his childhood bane of existence. Or maybe he, too, blames me.
Uncle Harry. He wouldn't blame me even if I'd done it. I vaguely remember his insistence that someone had been behind it, that the Ron and Hermione, the war heroes, would never have been so careless. Now he looks empty, like a shell of his former self. It is clear that he has finally given up.
If only they knew…
I know who the final person is without looking. The only other person who would avoid talking to me. I gaze in his direction, searching for some sign of...regret, maybe. A realization of what he's done, what he has become.
All I see is a calculating sort of thoughtfulness. It is all I need to know.
He is going to kill me.
Nothing has changed since I locked myself away. My fate has been sealed.
To know you are going to die, and to know you cannot stop it. It is both terrifying and yet incredibly calming. There is something about an inevitable occurrence that brings a clear mind and sharp senses. Every memory, every breath, every thought, every taste, every smell, every touch, every sound, every sight. It is frozen, crystallized into a timeless moment, as if the mind wants to remember everything it will know from here to death.
It is as if I have never fully realized this intricate simplicity, the unique beauty of everything around me.
Tears well up but never spill, and it is as if they, too, are paused; waiting for the moment to arrive, those final breaths.
And so as Lily chatters away with Roxanne and Dominique, instead of listening to what she is saying, I listen to the sound itself. The high pitch and the delicate, innocent tone.
Lily is a natural beauty, yet even she succumbed to the artificiality of makeup. Despite the layers of foundation and concealer, I can still see the real Lily, the hidden one behind the mask. Growing up with two brothers - a bully and a psychopath, at that - has taught her that hiding her vulnerable side will make her seem stronger. It is a sad truth, but one that Lily could have gone without.
In this way, I observe the people surrounding me. Every little detail I know about them has culminated into a treasure trove of masks and illusions, of hidden tempers and disguised pain. Every member of the Weasley family - extended and beyond - has something to hide. I don't know them all, but I can guess.
I doubt, however, that any member of this large family has a bigger secret than mine. Except, of course, James Sirius Potter.
He is, after all, both my secret and his.
Who would do this? Who could possibly want this so badly? And how could someone so close to us – someone who knew us – give away our location?
With dawning horror, I realize that if I had not come late to our Sunday family meet-up, I would have been in there. I would have been consumed by the flames, just like my parents and brother.
I turn sharply. With any luck, the person who did this would not have reached the Apparition point. Perhaps I could find them…
I fumble in the pocket of my Muggle clothes for my wand. With a choked voice, I manage to say, "Homenum Revelio!"
A twinkle of light. In the trees, headed towards the Apparition point. I run towards it, without another thought. This person, whoever it was, no doubt would have felt the spell detecting them.
A few moments later, I raise my wand to the sky and yell, "Accio Nimbus 3600!"
In less than a minute, the broom is in my grip. Before I know it, I'm in the air and hurtling towards the Apparition point.
It's a quick landing. The Apparition point is just outside the boundary of trees, and I let my broom rest on one of the tree trunks as I catch my breath.
Footsteps. I straighten, lifting my wand –
"Expelliarmus!" The sound comes from behind me, and I'm too shocked by the familiar voice to keep a hold on my wand.
I jerk around, following the arc of my wand's flight, to land my eyes on perhaps the last person I would expect to have killed my family.
"You?" I ask, horror coloring my voice.
"Me," James Sirius Potter replies, a twisted, close-mouthed smile on his face. "Come to fight me?"
I don't answer.
"A bit hard without a wand, now isn't it," James says, twirling my wand in his left hand. He's holding his own wand in his right hand.
"How could you?" I demand. "Why?"
"Do I really need a reason?" he grins, revealing a pearl-white smile.
People always said James Sirius Potter was known for his smile. Now all it seems like is a cruel mockery, as if my parents and brother's death was some sort of joke.
"What did they ever do to you?" I'm furious now, but the grief still lingers.
"What did Voldemort ever do to my dad, huh?"
"Voldemort killed his parents, you daft idiot!" Tears are clouding my vision.
"Watch yourself," James warns, stepping forward. "I've half a mind to kill you as well."
My ragged breathing fills the silence.
"Perhaps I'll let you go for some time," he muses. "This is far too easy. So let's give you a fighting chance, eh?"
I glare at him. The tears are gone, and indignation fills in.
"But one word about me," he says, and there's a definite threat in his tone. "One mention about what really happened here, and I'll hunt you down and kill you. It will happen, mark my words."
"Well?" I ask, when he doesn't continue. I'm terrified, but I can't leave without my wand. "Are you going to give me back my wand?"
"Oh, you won't need this old thing," James drops the wand to the ground and, before I can blink, steps on it with a crunch. My eyes widen in horror.
"Well, go on before I decide to kill you now instead," he snaps. I don't waste any time in grabbing my broom and kicking off. All I want is to get far, far away from what just transpired.
"I'm just going to – er, take a break," I tell Lily. She smiles pityingly.
"Go ahead. You haven't been around this many people for a long time," she says with a fond smile. I can tell she's proud of me for 'braving the world' and 'facing my family' and all that. It's too bad that won't last.
I back away from the group, then turn and hurry down the street. I'm not ready to face my memories, even after all these months.
It's a while before I slow down. I'm in a small park, barren except for the occasional tree and a few benches.
I drag myself over to one of the benches. It's lightly dusted with snow, not unlike the ground around it and the branches above it. I brush some snow off with the sleeve of my cloak and sit down.
He'll come find me. I know he will. And when he does, I'll be waiting.
To die would be an awfully big adventure. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. Uncle Harry told us stories about what he'd seen when he'd, for lack of better word, died, but I wanted to experience it for myself.
And would I meet my parents and brother there? It's a thought that's plagued me since they'd died. Death couldn't be so bad, if I got to see them again.
A wand presses into my throat. I suck in a breath and hold still.
"Waiting for death to claim you," James says. "You'll be glad to know that it won't be long."
I say nothing. I know what is going to happen.
"Best to make a clean job of you," he comments. "Anything else might be traced back to me."
"Finite Incantatem would trace any spell back to your wand," I grit my teeth.
"Oh, but I'm not using my wand," James chuckles softly. "I'm using yours."
Now I'm in shock. "But – "
"Would I really get rid of something so valuable?" he asks. "There was a branch next to it. When I supposedly crushed your wand, I really was destroying the branch. And when this is done, I could leave your wand here and they'd consider it a suicide. Brilliant, no?"
A new thought has struck me. I'd told Lily that I lost my wand…
"Go on, then," I say, lifting my chin. The wand digs deeper into my throat.
"As you wish," James mocks.
With a voice of finality, he incants, "Avada Kedavra."
And that was the end.
Team: Tutshill Tornadoes
Position: Beater 1
Round Prompt: Horror
Word Count: 3,000 words (excluding Author's Notes)
Prompts Used:
Prompt 5: (quote) 'To die would be an awfully big adventure.' - J.M Barrie, Peter Pan
Prompt 8: (picture) image.5361614.3879/flat,550x550,075,f.