Steel and Stone
August 1978
She first sees the lanterns in August. It's a gloomy, dim sort of twilight and they've just flickered on. Old steel and stone curving elegantly upward, they seem completely out of place among the slate and ruin of the otherwise drab little street. Her sensible shoes make a dull sound on the pavement while the leaves, already muck-brown with autumn and tinted gold by the pale, wispy glow of the ancient streetlights rustle whisper-secret with the breeze as if they already know the shrouded story of the future.
They catch her eye and Dorcas pauses to look up at them, to stall her arrival at a meeting she's been regretting agreeing to. It had seemed very simple when Marlene had explained it, bright, vivacious Marlene, talking so quickly, so quietly that Dorcas could scarcely hear her. A mysterious, backdoor society to chase away shadow, an honor to be invited, and her skills would be useful Marlene had said. At the time it had seemed like a matter of right and wrong, a childlike decision of surprising ease but the more she turned it over in her head the more it seemed like a mistake. What talent did Marlene speak of that would be useful in fighting off such cryptic, rotting hate. She! A barely qualified Healer up to her elbows in the dregs of work? Marlene had said that Professor Dumbledore had asked Marlene to speak to her for him. Dumbledore! Scarcely a week ago she wouldn't have thought her old headmaster had even remembered her name.
And she was afraid.
Dorcas was no fool; she had sensed the ravenous shadow that lurked behind the bright, gloriously happy days of her school years. A group of students known to be up to no good, midnight conversations held in hushed tones, the occasional disappearance. She had known it even when she was buried deep in her Healer studies, poisons and potions spinning a mad symphony in her head, she had known Marlene and Lily to be involved in something she never quite had the energy or courage to ask about. Studious Dorcas set away with her books, unseen and ever watching. Somehow she had always known.
But fear does not suit the stubborn and the nightmares are too close to live with. The fledgling Order waits and she'll condemn herself before the world has the chance.
June 1979
She walks alone, nights after she gets done with work. Fabian wouldn't approve of course but she spares her love the details. If she doesn't find some quiet she's afraid she'll go mad with her thoughts, thoughts that drone and spin in her head without ceasing. Everything is falling apart, everything is her fault. Even the sound of sorrow, the sorrow that laces the halls of the newly burnt out St. Mungo's sounds something like a song. She's stopped counting her failures, all the people she could not save, all those gone before her in her place.
The lantern catches her attention and for a moment she thinks it's the first time she's ever seen it, graceful, curving steel and ancient stone. It holds her captive in wonder for the briefest of moments; she's half surprised she has the presence of mind to find anything in this wicked, wicked world beautiful. She thinks of magic, not the warped, rotted thing she calls forth from her fingertips with the feeble hope of doing some good but the magic of adventure and love. It's an odd sort of contemplation, one more suited to youth, maidens with pure hearts who still find the world radiant. It's as out of place on Dorcas with her ninety year old heart as a coat four sizes too big. She almost believes that if she wished long enough, she could walk past the lantern and into another world, perhaps one without so much bitterness.
But that kind of magic died a lifetime ago and she finds she doesn't mourn it. Gone with those she could not save to a world without so much sorrow.
Authors Note: Short I know but hopefully sweet! This is the first I've been motivated to write in a long while. Reviews and constructive critiques are always welcome!