The Resolution
- Chapter Twelve -

- Rowan Hanely -


I raised the axe over my head, and the rippling and tearing feeling in the muscles of my shoulder blades felt like relief rather than pain. It was exertion – and loveliest of all? It was distraction.

A log lay ready to be split on a rather gnarled stump. It almost looked vulnerable – but still my arms were poised to strike, and I knew my expression most have been quite a sight. Blank as ever, but with my eyes focused on that one little piece I needed to hack apart. I lacked finesse, though. It took forever to get a nice clean cut – despite my strength that came from so much training. These were trees from a distinctly magical forest – they weren't supposed to be easy to slice up.

But I suppose, my anger, my humiliation and the odd, dull ache of in my chest gave me some kind of force – it made my job much easier… and much more enjoyable.

I launched the blunt edge of the axe towards the log, grinding my teeth together and ignoring the sweat that made my hair stick to the nape of my neck and my dirtied button up shirt stick to my spine.

Why…

The axe landed in the grooves of the wood – splitting it slightly.

was…

I lifted the axe, completing the motion once more.

I…

I ripped the blade out, tugging at it carelessly.

so…

I huffed and raised the axe again…

stupid?

I launched it down with a hard 'thwack'.

The log split with an efficient snap of the fibres that had once held the tree limb together, and into two halves, which tumbled from the stump I had launched my assault towards.

It was almost anguish to know there was no wood left to split. Hagrid had left me to my own devices once he saw me splitting the wood he had left out to cut later in the day, (presumably on his own) with wild abandon. I had eaten at a ridiculously early time in an attempt to avoid the Hogwarts populace, and went out to walk in the morning fog of the grounds – now the sun had evaporated any trace of mysterious vapour, and the autumn sun bared down on me. The grounds were scattered with students, enjoying the beautiful day – and soft calls and laughter met my ears.

But I didn't join them.

I needed to keep doing something.

I didn't want to think about my dreams, about the blunder that had kicked off this weekend…

The way Sirius' eyes had widened with… what? Regret?

I felt a spasm of anger towards him, but… more so with myself. I was not truly angry with him… it wasn't his fault really. I was the one who had awoken the whole Common Room…

I scowled down at the lumpy stump before me, axe still in my sweaty grip.

What good was it to be a witch when you were incompetent? When you couldn't remember to cast something so simple as a Silence Charm.

A simple, 'silencio'?

Nope.

No can do.

Not when you're me, and you're absolutely losing your touch.

I was supposed to be proficient, damn it.

I had been proficient as a profession, and here I was, a damn schoolgirl, blubbering.

I couldn't blubber along through this.

I… I had to chin up. Yes, that's exactly what my mum would have told me. Dad would have been more lenient… hugging me and telling me, 'even a proper Hanely needs a bit of a cry, little Rowan.'

But I could not believe, how much it had hurt.

No amount of telling myself that I had to take deep breaths, and grit my teeth, and quit brooding – could change how my mind had so inadvertently betrayed me with that nightmare.

It had caused this inhuman twisting that took my breath away even in the dream-realm I had been trapped in.

I had seen my little brother, my wonderful, incredible, too honest, too pure… Flynn… in a very airy, damp place. It smelt like dust and the air was so painfully cold, that I shivered – it seemed as though it were the wee hours of the morning – some seeping dew dampening my socks.

He looked up at me, so confused… His face darkened in the shadows of this cold, cold world.

"What happened, Rowan?"

I shook my head, as I heard his soft, naïve voice.

"I don't know… I miss you…"

He looked so jumbled up, and he touched my hand, and I could barely feel him. The coldness seeping my bones.

"You're warm, Row…"

I had smiled. "Really?"

He looked betrayed again. "But I'm so cold. Why are you warm?"

I began to shake, gripping his hand in mine. "I don't know… I can't explain it…"

Flynn's sapphire eyes began to fill with tears. "But… I want to be warm too… Why can't I be warm?… Please…"

I caressed his cheek, and felt just how frigid he was, my stomach dropped, and I felt hot tears betray me.

"Flynn…"

He looked so angry, and he gripped my hands fiercely, I tried to tug away as his cold nails dug into my skin.

"Make me warm again."

I shuddered, shocked at his words. "Oh… Flynn. I'm sorry. So sorry. Please… Please let me go…"

But he wouldn't, he grew colder and colder, begging me, asking me why, he wasn't warm… and I held him close, but I couldn't make him warm… I couldn't… Until finally… I felt a seeping warmth…

I went on, I promised him, I cried into his hair as he was tucked under my chin. I knew I couldn't live without this – giving him that warmth I had so selfishly possessed.

And it felt moist, disgustingly familiar – that warmth.

I had looked down, my eyes widening with sheer pain at having to feel this way again, and saw my dead brother, in my dream, bleeding all over my nightclothes… His blood, disconcertingly scorching, against me.

I felt the axe shaking in my hand at the memory if my dream…

It was bad enough to retell the tale to Dumbledore and see his face go slack at my description. He was a comfort though, that night – he was a strange rock to lean on. A tall, astute, colourful- robed rock that let me wash my face in his sink and tell my story. Not even raising his eyebrows when I shook so hard that I spilled the tea he handed me all over his desk.

He had simply said after a gap, a strange silence after my relay of the night's events within the confines of my mind: "I too know the bond between siblings, but you mustn't let Flynn hold you like he did tonight – and you mustn't hold yourself responsible, as I'm sure you do always."

Those words didn't exactly make sense to me.

I didn't really hold myself responsible.

I mean, I didn't point my wand and kill him.

No – those disgusting excuses for wizards did that… but there were many things I failed to do.

Run faster…

Move quicker…

Hold him closer…

But I'd failed to do those things with Willow too.

I'd failed both my siblings…

But despite that… heavy, impossibly heavy, failure I'd confessed, those were the only words he'd said to me about the dream.

Perhaps, they were all that was needed.

What he had advised afterwards was that I needed was a technique to let me fall asleep, to sleep better, and maybe even sleep without a Silence Charm at some point. He seemed to echo my thoughts apropos to dealing with things, when he said: "You must train, Rowan. Your body is used to pushing itself physically, and that absence discomfits it."

My first thought had been played out in a mocking, pained tone in my mind: 'I wake my whole House, screaming like I'm touched in the head, and you tell me to exercise?'

But instead my words had been soft, and halfhearted as I curled into the chair before his great desk. I shivered tremendously – remembering the odd place my dream-world had taken me to and trapped me in. I heard Fawkes make a soft noise of concern from his perch behind me, when my voice came out as a scratchy rasping noise. "With all due respect sir, I can't exactly run laps around the corridors in the dead of the night, can I?"

Dumbledore had given me that look which I'm sure I would never understand, not even when I had familiarized myself with him for weeks. The great wizard smiled slyly and got that twinkle in his pearly blue eyes. "No, you cannot. Not as a human, and certainly not within the corridors… But I seem to remember a certain pact we had about not mentioning your rather… canine family history?"

I managed to give him a scowl. "My form? My Animagus form?"

He chuckled. "I said nothing of the kind. I'm just making a polite suggestion."

Suggestion?

Right.

The Headmaster had just granted me the permission to frolic as a timber wolf across the grounds.

I didn't exactly turn him down either.

I had nodded, and shifted in my seat to look up at the stars that twinkled through his high windows, until he had softly said that perhaps I should go and try to sleep…

I didn't sleep, not well, not properly… not after Sirius' lively grey eyes had been clouded with something that I couldn't identify.

It was shameful, really. The whole thing was shameful, and I'm sure I had the right to feel this humiliated.

How would… the Marauders see me?

How would Sirius see me?

I wondered if he had registered the word 'was'.

"No. Not a boyfriend. He was my brother."My words echoed like my mind had cliffs, and I had been shouting those words from the very peaks, until my lungs collapsed.

It had betrayed too much – that simple sentence.

I, myself, had betrayed too much that night.

They would probably behave so oddly around me now.

Not that I cared…

I didn't care if they liked me or how they acted with me, really.

I just didn't want to be seen as weak…

But I probably wasn't even seen as weak in their eyes… or the eyes of the rest of the Gryffindors… Just a nutcase.

I flipped the axe in my palm.

Lily didn't seem too afraid… just worried. I owed her one, for not scampering down to the Common Room when I had almost strangled myself in the sheets. She was… very loyal. I respected that.

Loyalty – was that all that it came down to? What was there, in your relationships, if not for loyalty?

I would, and I had always said this, be eternally loyal to some people.

A flash of Willow pulling me up from a particularly tough training session, and rubbing the kinks out of my muscles, and I did the same for her.

Flynn, showing me his drawings, and later I showed him a nice tripping jinx…

My mom and dad gazing at each other fiercely one night – whispering desperately about 'going on the run – keeping us all safe – staying together'.

I smoothed the edge of the axe, the metal feeling at my fingertips sending that resounding metallic shudder down my spine.

Together?

I felt a small bitter bubble of amusement accumulate in my hollow chest.

I was on the edge of a forest; at a school I was never supposed to go to… very much alone.

Another giddy laugh erupted somewhere upon the grounds of Hogwarts – echoing slightly because of the rolling hills and the presence of that immense lake. A carefree giggle that pierced my spiralling thoughts, and the heavy autumn air of this could-be Indian summer.

I turned my head away from the sound, loosening my harsh grip on the axe, and feeling the slight tickling of strands un-sticking from the nape of my neck. My eyes, focused now on the Forbidden Forest, where no calls of laughter came – just calm.

Its coolness.

The flutters of life in the folds of darkness beneath the cover of dying leaves.

Sunlight streaming through the branches high above to create disjointed patterns across the earth.

The moisture of moss on the roots that made jagged paths – mountains – across the trail.

A far, far cry from the school that was built next to it.

But, it wasn't really the school, that lacked peace – more so the occupants… or… myself.

I lacked peace.

I took a few, tentative steps into the Forest, letting leaves from last year's autumn, and this one's crunch under my hide boots.

At once, I groaned.

The trees near the trail, had been hacked at by Hagrid – various limbs removed to be chopped up for firewood – and which I had attended to, myself. He of course, had left the trees gaping, and dripping sap – the tree's blood.

My father had always called my mother, 'mental', when she would take her wand and mend the bark of the trees we cut while on our travels – our little 'camping trips', back together, but I firmly believe in what she said.

She had explained that they were living things, that, yes they fixed themselves up with the tree sap – and being magical, they had an obvious upper-hand than other trees… but it wouldn't do any harm to fix them… after we had taken a piece of them.

In a way, it was comical. The way my mum would take the liberty to send a nice slashing hex at whomever we were after, but couldn't bear to leave a tree, or an animal unattended. Even horses in fields… when we happened by. We'd take so much time to stop, approach them, and gently remove the rocks lodged in their hooves or apply a charm so the flies would stay away.

So when I smelled the sweet scent of tree sap, and spotted the bare skins – the innards – the light fibres… I immediately fished my wand out of the pocket of my grimy grey jeans.

Gently tapping each tree, each marked surface – I smiled at the thought my mum might be happy I continued her little tree-hugger activity – the bark reforming, and the sap glistening like a bandage over each former 'wound'.

I went deeper into the Forest, casually holding the axe in one hand, and my wand in the other. Touching each of the ex-limbs, and letting the distant cries of laughter grow duller.

The air felt cool – and the gentle crunches of leaves and twigs were a much more suited melody, than that of the thwacking of the axe through the wood.

My hair didn't stick to me, but floated in the breeze that swished between the trees, my shoulders relaxed and I felt my eyes flutter closed with calm at times…

Then I heard a soft huff, and the distinctive swish of a tree branch being moved.

Barely a noise to be bothered with, if you were anyone else – but I swivelled – wand drawn, to stare at a mass of bushes.

Maybe a Thestral? They were quiet beasts and they -

"Only so much wood you can cut, love… I know it clears the mind, but – wait, Rowan, where are ye? ROWAN!" Hagrid's booming voice carried much more than the ridiculous laughter down by the lake, and even from the depths of the Forest, I could hear how frantic he was. I could almost picture him, looking wildly around the front of his hut.

Nevermind, the huff then…

"I'm over here!" I called, voice rasping horribly, even when I cupped my mouth to project my affirmation. I grimaced and touched my throat.

I really did wish my voice would get back to normal… Not that I said much, but all the same… It was nice to know you could talk when it was needed…

A great sound of logs snapping, and the trail being tread upon was heard, and soon Hagrid's bearded face was in full view – plastered with worry.

"What are ye' doing all the way in here?" He said, his voice filled with the most sincere anxiousness. I wanted to smile, he was just so kind to everyone…

"I wanted to fix up the trees… It was something I used to do…"

When I wasn't here, you know, with my family…

The sentence was very much unfinished.

Hagrid nodded, and I felt for a moment, a bit of relief, and knowing that someone could comprehend, when sentences didn't really need to be finished. Yet, he still wore a very prominent frown, and his beetle-black eyes glinted. "I understand, but Rowan, don't go wandering into the forest without me, ye hear? It's not very safe, even for me sometimes. There's different territories – and we might not know of 'em, but the rest of the creatures out here do."

I nodded slowly.

He smiled. "I'm thinkin' of getting' a dog some time. Ye' know, to come in here with a partner…"

It'd have to be a huge dog. I could not, for the life of me, imagine Hagrid with some pipsqueak Corgi.

"Hmmmmm," I said absently, as I pointed at another hacked up tree, "what breed?"

I saw him practically quiver with excitement. "A Boarhound. Big loyal brutes they are…"

I fought back a smirk. Of course… What a Gryffindor sort of dog…

"Anyways, fancy a cuppa? You cut most of the wood for me, missy. Least I can do for ye. Tell me about yer week hmm? What classes you like?"

I turned at his flurry of booming questions, to give him a half-smile, and he began to walk along the path, nice and slow – so that his grand strides wouldn't leave me far behind.

"Alright, Hagrid. Just for a bit though – I need to look up some things on Potions in the library later…" I muttered. It was true; I had no clue what in the world a hare's leg would give to a potion. Unless it was something for luck…

I shook my head slightly – ridding the confusion I was so unfamiliar with, and saw Hagrid laugh quietly, and give me a very serious look.

"Potions eh? I'm ruddy terrible at it, I'll have ye know…" He said sternly, as if this would definitely alleviate the fears that I was the only one muddled up in the subject.

He could certainly make me feel better – Rubeus Hagrid…

I slowly walked up the trail, pricking my way across the roots with him, until we came to his hut, the wood now piled near his house to become heat for the winter… My rolled up sleeves were probably filled with little bits of wood, and my jeans, were obviously as dirty as ever.

I was tired, from that work.

Yet my steps felt less heavy than they had all weekend…

I was doing as Dumbledore had told me to – as I had told myself to do – to not wallow and let it overtake me.

Laughs erupted upon the grounds, and unlike before, I turned my head, to see a very familiar group of people lying in the slowly yellowing grass.

Alice, was the one who was laughing… Tilting her round face back, as she clutched stomach. With a boy, a stocky one I didn't know – Frank, maybe?

Remus, James, Peter and Lily were all circled under a tree – lazily flicking their wands at books, or in James' case a paper airplane that seemed determined to get away from him. Peter watched, laughing in a squeaky fashion as James swore at it – making Remus snicker while he read. Lily, of course, studiously ignored them, her beautiful red hair falling into her face, while she poured over some text.

I searched, in an almost unintentional fashion, for the handsome teenager, who had so thoroughly caught me off guard, who had forced me to admit that Flynn Hanely was my brother… That he had been… That he wasn't now….

And he was the only one, out of the group, who sat, sitting up straight, staring directly at me – and even from far away, I saw his creased brow and his mouth set into a firm line. Dark, black hair falling into his eyes, glinting in the sunlight that fell upon his face because he had lifted himself from the shade of the tree to watch me, nearly blinded by the sunlight that fell upon his features, and those eyes only perceived as light specks of a grey sky from here.

"Rowan, ye' comin?"

I looked away from Sirius, to see Hagrid smiling at me from his doorstep, a giant hand holding it open so I could make my way inside.

"Yeah, I could really use a cup of tea. Thank you, Hagrid."

And it was true – a nice drink to quell the multitude of things that simply would not still themselves in my mind; a mix of past and present.

I scampered quickly into the Hagrid's home, that smelled of quilts, horrible baking and a distinctly comforting scent, – and gently shut the door on the sunny grounds outside, and turned my back on Sirius' probing gaze.


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