Summary: Helena had never known that the couple that lived next to her was wizards.
It was a cold November night. And when Helena said cold, she meant it. The pond had frozen over around midday, and now, with the thin watery sun gone, the temperature had only dropped lower.
There were two houses grouped close together on a lonely stretch of country lane where Helena lived, and only in the house that she lived were lights still visible, if only just. The occupants of the other house, an unfriendly young couple that Helena had only met once, and which had only moved in two months ago, had long since extinguished their lights and gone to bed.
On any other night, Helena would have been in bed as well, burrowing beneath the sheets for warmth, but on this particular date, she had stayed up to do the same thing she had done for the last seventeen years. She had moved a box from the attic onto her table, and had laid out a number of pictures. They all showed the same handsome young man, more often than not with an arm around a younger looking Helena. The young man, her husband, had died eighteen years ago to the day, fighting in the war that was supposed to make sure that this war never happened.
Helena had never understood why he had decided to fight for something that had only ended in his death.
In the photographs laid out in front of her, she could see their short lives together. There was only a few on the table, a reminder of how short a time they had been married. Helena sighed as she picked up their marriage photos for perhaps the sixth time that night. They were they had only been twenty then, young, full of happiness. Two years later, he was dead, and she was alone.
She hadn't wanted him to fight, had begged him to keep his head down like the rest of them were, but he had refused, telling her that some things were worth fighting for.
Helena sighed again and gazed into her husband's ever youthful face, remembering the way he had said her name. She would have doubtlessly kept staring at her husband, but a loud crack broke through the night, jolting her so badly that she elbowed a picture of their honeymoon off the table. Helena's breath caught halfway up her throat, fear dropping into her stomach like a load of textbooks. Dropping the photo to the table with a loud clatter, Helena sped out of the kitchen and into her sitting room, where she could see out into her front yard through a window there. Knocking over a chair in the dark, she lounged to the window, peering out into the night.
Though there was only a relatively small front yard in front of her house, the clouds were preventing the moon from shining onto the ground, so that Helena could only see a few vague shapes moving about in the darkness. After a long minute during which Helena wondered if it had just been her imagination, there was a flare of light from a wand, so bright after the almost pitch darkness that Helena jerked away from the window. Blinking rapidly, she stumbled back to the window. There, in the bright light, three silver masks the glinted at her. Helena felt as though she had been physically struck as she recognized the masks.
Death Eaters: here, in the middle of the nowhere. Too terrified to move, Helena clutched the window sill, her mouth suddenly dry.
However, the Death Eaters weren't coming toward her house, like Helena feared they would. Instead, they glanced at each other, and then, with a loud whoop from one of them, they started shooting spells at the neighbors' house with loud bangs. Explosions shook the night, windows shattered, the wall to the living room fell in, and a corner of the house blew off, exposing a bathroom to the open air.
The lights in her neighbor's house flickered on, the owners finally awakened by the noise the Death Eaters were making. The Death Eaters were yelling something; one of them pointed their wand at the door and it exploded, wood shards flying every direction. They continued to yell, dull shouts that Helena couldn't hear through her window. After a moment's fearful hesitation, Helena opened the window, so that the noise and cold air washed over her at the same time.
"Come out, Come out," one of the Death Eaters was calling, laughing so much that it was hard to understand him.
"Enough of this," bellowed the only one with his wand still lit, watching his fellow Death Eaters destroy the house. "If you don't come out in thirty seconds, we'll burn this whole house down.
Helena, shivering not just from the cold breeze, felt sickened as she watched the other two Death Eaters yell and jeer, the horrible masks they wore glinting in the light coming out of the upper windows. Feeling helpless, she watched as the door was pushed open and the young couple emerged, still in their night clothes.
"Expelliarmus," yelled one of the Death Eaters, waving his wand at the couple. Two wands flew into the night sky, before being lost from sight somewhere in the darkness that surrounded the scene. Helena felt something cold settle in her stomach. She had never known that her neighbors had been wizards. How could she have not known that? They had lived there for almost two months now, and Helena hadn't even guessed at it.
One of the Death Eaters seemed to be talking, but even with the window open, Helena couldn't quite make out what they were saying. She could see plainly see that the young couple was terrified however. The witch, blinking in the harsh light, gestured desperately, voice lost in the dark. The Death Eaters laughed at something she had said, the biggest brandishing his wand at her and telling her something that the husband didn't like; with a roar like a bull, he yelled "I don't bloody think so," and rushed right at the Death Eaters.
Helena flinched horribly as he collided with a spell that sent him soaring backwards, until he smashed into the wall of the house. The wife screamed, running toward him. Helena was trembling almost as violently as the wife was as she watched on, a powerless onlooker to a horror unfolding in front of her.
One of the Death Eaters erected Shield Charm in front of the wife, so that she smacked into it just before she reached her husband, making her stumbled over backwards, blood running from her nose. Laughing at her, the Death Eaters didn't notice the husband hauling himself to his feet, until, with another bellow, he tackled the closet one.
Helena lost track of him as he rolled about on the ground with the Death Eater. The other two death eaters turned to help their comrade, and the wife used the distraction to leap on the back of the big Death Eater with his wand lit. With an awful yell, he danced around on the spot, trying to dislodge her. The only Death Eater not being attacked yelled something, pointing his wand at the ground.
For several seconds, the fighters scrambled around, yelling, and Helena lost track of who was where and who was fighting who. With only one wand still lit, and that being waved around so much that Helena could only see brief flashes of what was going on, and the lights streaming from the windows falling in all the wrong places Helena couldn't be sure of what was going on. Peering desperately through her own window, she saw a jet of red light fly from a wand, missing its intended target and hit one of the only remaining windows in the house, which shattered, spraying glass upon the people fighting below. The wife had grabbed for the Death Eater's wand as she clung to his back, fighting back against his attempts to throw her off. With a sudden darkness, the wand's light went out, so that the only lights came from the ruined house.
Seized with the sudden and urgent desire to move, or to help, or to do something Helena fumbled clumsily for her wand, her hands shaking so much that it took her three tries to retrieve her wand. When she looked up at last, she knew it had been far too slow. The fight was already over.
One of the Death Eaters had managed to relight his wand, and was training it steadily at the ground, where the husband had been thrown. Helena couldn't tell if he was still moving. The wife was still struggling to hold on to the biggest Death Eater, who was yelling, until with a massive heave, he flipped her over his shoulder to the ground, where she landed heavily.
"You fucking Mudblood," screamed the big Death Eater, holding his ear. Helena shrunk back, all thoughts of fighting gone with his show of viciousness. The Death Eater lowered his voice, speaking so softly that Helena couldn't hear him, though her imagination filled in the gaps as she watched the Death Eater lift his wand.
The wife screamed as the Death Eater cast his spell, followed quickly by the husband as the other Death Eaters joined in. Helena staggered back, feeling tears welling in her eyes at the sound of their pain, wishing that she wasn't here, or that she was brave enough to stop them, or—"
"Stop," cried a new, incredibly young sounding voice and Helena lurched forward, hating herself for looking, but unable to stop herself.
"Stop," cried the voice again, and Helena felt what little color she had left leave her, as little form, a child, sped out of the house and stood, shaking, on the front porch.
"Kill me instead, please, "the tiny form screamed, the noise hitting Helena like a knife plunging home. "Kill me instead."
Helena fumbled away from the window, unable to watch any longer. She could hear the child's cries, the parents screaming something, and the Death Eater's yells, all blending into one voice that made it incomprehensible. Running out of the sitting room, she slammed right into the table with her midriff, taking her breath away. She automatically flung a her hand down to stop herself from smacking her head onto the table, and caught herself a mere six inches from the picture of her husband's face.
For a second that seemed much longer, she stood frozen in that awkward position, and gazed at into his grey eyes, so fearless, smile lines crinkling around them as he waved at her. And just like that, with a sudden rush of clarity, she understood, for the first time in eighteen years, why he had fought. It wasn't to win, but because not doing anything was worse – so much worse- than losing.
Helena remained there, staring at her husband, her brave, brave husband. He smiled at her, telling her that she knew what to do, that she would be all right. When she shook her head, trying to tell him that she couldn't, that she was too afraid, too scared, that she had never been a good fighter, he just smile wider. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he told her to get going.
With an inner strength that she never knew that she had, she straightened up and rushed to the door, all the fears she had grown accustom to disappearing. She could still hear yelling and then one loud bang as she rushed to the door, waving her wand at the door, so that it flew open ahead of her. Never slowing down, she hurtled out of the door, ready to fight like she should have so many years ago.
She was too late. The three Death Eaters were already in mid-turn, and, with another loud crack masked by the door slamming open, they disappeared. The yard was once again empty, and, with the notable exception of the house missing half its side, it was almost as if nothing had happened.
Helena slowed down, the temporary bravery leaving her as suddenly as it had come. She had been too slow; her cowardness had doomed three people. She stopped at the edge of her front porch, gazing out into the cold night, her breath misting in front of her.
Helena clutched her railing for support, hating herself, when she a small and lonely sob break the night, more startling, but gentler too, then the Death Eaters apparition had done. With no more hesitation, she ran out toward the noise, crossing the field faster then she had for many years. Within moments of searching, she had found the small child, huddled into a ball, whether in fear or cold, Helena didn't know.
"Come here you brave little child," she said, kneeling down next to the child. The child looked up, and Helena found herself looking into a small girl's face, tears pouring down her face and her little body shivering with cold.
"Mummy?" whimpered the little girl, tear-filled eyes looking up at Helena.
"No, sweetie," whispered Helena, gathering the little girl into her arms and lifting her up, feeling how light she felt. The girl was so distraught that she didn't put up any resistance to being picked up and carried away by a strange woman. How old could she be? Helena thought sadly, five? Six?
Reaching her door, she awkwardly swung it shut behind her, welcoming the warmth of her house. Carrying the child into her sitting room, Helena saw that the child was still shivering violently, even as Helena gently put her down on the couch and covered her with a blanket. After a moment's hesitation, she sat down next to the small form and reached out, gingerly pulling the little girl into a hug.
Helena glanced down at the little girl, patting her reassuringly on the back, unsure of what else to do. Slowly, after what might have been hours, the little girl's sobbing slowed, and her little shoulders stopped shaking and relaxed into deep, even breathing, disturbed only occasionally by small twitches.
Helena watched the girl as she twitched, well aware that she didn't the slightest thing about the child, or how to care for her or even what her name was. After a few more minutes of watching, Helena felt confident enough that she wasn't going to wake up, and slowly stood up, trying not to disturb the little girl's sleep. Moving silently across the room, she walked back into the kitchen.
It was exactly as she left it. Helena didn't know why she had thought that it would have changed, but still surprised her that nothing had changed. Glancing at the clock that hung on the wall, Helena noticed with a small shock only the only twenty minutes ago she had been looking at the pictures of her husband.
And now there was a small child whose parents had just been taken to Azkaban, or killed, lying on her couch.
"Oh dear," mumbled Helena, feeling scared once more. It would be dangerous to keep the child, that much Helena knew for sure. But what was the alternative? Make her leave? Toss her out into the cold? Or maybe, thought Helena, give her to an orphanage?
Helena walked back over to the sitting room doorway, looking once more at the girl huddled beneath the blankets thinking. Giving her away would be the safer option. Helena could pass her on to someone who actually knew how to take care of her. Helena wouldn't have to be afraid that every day that someone might find them.
Looking down at the small child lying half in her couch, remembering her begging the Death Eaters to kill her instead of her parents, Helena couldn't do it. If a child could show that much bravery, so could she. Fate might have abandoned this child, but Helena wouldn't.
After all, despite all her faults, Helena Dearborn was a good person, and though she might not have been the bravest hero, she knew that she would care for that little girl, even if they killed her for it.
