December began with eight centimetres of snow and Roxy nearly slipping on the icy stairs of the flat when she stepped outside to keep herself from screaming bloody murder at her own mother. It wasn't that she didn't love her mum, but life could be very stressful when all Roxy ever heard any more was concern about her mental health and queries as to whether or not she knew anything more about Kieran and Lucy's conditions.
The Healers were not being reassuring. Statements like "extent of injuries" and "we just want you to be prepared for the worst possible outcome" were thrown around quite a bit in the last few days, which Roxy took to mean that the situation was not only incredibly bleak, but that survival was damn near impossible, and it was very likely that she would lose both her cousin and a very good friend before Christmas time.
The thought made her even more irritable than usual. Not that she was naturally a very cheery person, but still; Roxy was not normally the type to snap at her own grandmother, and Roxy had done just that only yesterday when Grandmum Weasley asked if perhaps Roxy wanted a ride home for the night since St Mungo's would be closing soon.
Lucy was now starting her twentieth day at St Mungo's; Kieran, his sixth. Neither were showing strong signs of recovery and their families were both being prepared for the most likely result of their time at St Mungo's—that nothing could be done to save them. That two funerals would be planned and held before the end of the month.
Roxy visited her cousin and friend every morning before work and stayed with them until visiting hours were over every night. She had the path to their room memorised to the point where she could walk it with her eyes shut and every single one of the Healers and Welcome Witches and mediwizards—and even the morning and nightly custodial staff—recognised her on sight. "That Weasley girl", the one who—even more so than the parents of the two victims—refused to give up on a possible being found or some form of progress being made.
Mum said she was obsessing; Rose said she was attempting to cope with the possibility of death; Uncle Percy said it was because Roxy was afraid of losing them just like she'd lost Freddie and Dad. Everyone in her family apparently had an opinion about why she spent all of her free time at St Mungo's, as though it were not enough for Roxy to simply just want to spend every possible moment she could with Kieran and Lucy, in case something were to happen to them and they passed, leaving Roxy behind.
Her family could be many things—annoying as all hell was just one of those traits that defined Weasleys as a whole.
Snow lightly dusted Roxy's hair and shoulders; she stood on the top step of the stairs leading up to their flat and her fingers were wrapped tightly around the cold metal bars of the railing as she surveyed the street below her. How was it that a place that, up until recently, had been the greatest Roxy ever knew was now a land of achingly too-familiar sights that made her feel sick to her stomach? Her home, her childhood—all of it tinted now with a sharp edge that was burnt in the corners and smelled of fire and death.
Inside, Mum was puttering around in the kitchen, waiting, no doubt, for Roxy to come back inside. She was doing that sort of thing a lot more as of late, hovering over Roxy yet staying just far enough away that Roxy could not outright call her mum out for her overly attentive nature without coming off as a paranoid.
It was driving Roxy up the wall, always seeing someone watching her just out of the corner of her eye, making sure that Roxy, too, was not about to lose it, to go crazy just like Lucy and Kieran. She wanted it to stop—all these damn looks that everyone was giving her every time she walked into a room. Her mum's insistence on keeping Roxy sane was, ironically, only cementing Roxy's building paranoia.
This was why she had begun the process of looking for empty flats in the wizarding suburbs of London. She didn't desire to go completely muggle—the idea of not even being able to magically clean and organise her things, or to set the dishes to wash themselves, was terrifying to her—but Diagon Alley was simply just no longer the place for her. Every time that she closed her eyes now, all that Roxy could see was the destroyed wreckage of her childhood neighbourhood and home, remnants of the terrifying visions that haunted so many of her dreams as of late.
Lily had expressed an interest in looking around for a new place along with Roxy though so far nothing was actually planned out about visiting anywhere or discussing prices and co-paying and all those other things that Roxy was pretty sure were needed for moving into a new home. It really was just like in Roxy's sixth year, when Lily had waxed poetic for weeks about the freedom of living on their own, but never actually contributing any real works towards achieving their goal.
"Roxanne?" Mum stuck her head out the door, wrapped up in several blankets and looking exactly every single one of her fifty-one years. "Audrey's invited us over for breakfast if you're interested. Molly will be there and—and they'll be stopping by to visit Lucy. Do you want to go?"
Roxy was still being handled with kids' gloves; she was a fragile, easily broken item to her family members, teetering on the same edge as her cousin.
"Sure, Mum," Roxy replied breezily, turning from the railing. She could pretend to not understand the underlying motive of a 'family breakfast'. And besides that, she was quite cold from standing outside in only a thin jumper and jeans. "I haven't talked to Molly since I was at her house last time we had a 'Weasley girls' weekend'. Ended less spectacularly than expected, but that's family, I suppose."
"Alright." Her mum sounded hesitant. "Come in here and take a quick shower and we can floo over there." She disappeared back inside, shutting the door behind her with a small bang against the wooden frame.
Roxy sighed and looked down across the snowy street that laid below her, wondering if her dreams of death and destruction could ever possibly come true. Could there really be a day that she would return here, to Diagon Alley, and barely be able to recognise anything—not the store, the flat, The Leaky Cauldron, or the home of that nice couple a few houses down with their new baby?
Was all of this truly destined to end so suddenly? And if so—what could bring about such an apocalypse to her childhood home?
Roxy didn't know the answer, settling instead for heading back inside.
Molly Diane Weasley was twenty-seven years old, 160cm, and of a (mostly) appropriate weight for someone of her height and athleticism. She had dark red hair and soft brown eyes. She worked at the Ministry as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries and was in a long-term relationship with a man named Peter Bartoli. She showed, as of now at least, no signs of wanting to marry him anytime soon, much to the frustration and dismay of her mother, Audrey. A Hufflepuff, Molly was friendly and helpful; she also greatly enjoyed chess and loved to play with Uncle Ron for hours, when she could be pulled away from her work.
Roxy thought that her cousin Molly was pretty okay, as cousins went. Molly could be a bit uppity and act like she knew more than others just because she was older, but for the most part, she was pretty decent. Certainly, one could call her stable. Steady. Practical and predictable. The opposite of Lucy in nearly every way.
"Good morning Roxy," Molly said politely after she opened the front door of her parents' house. Molly no longer lived at home—and had not in quite some time, being more of the organised sort that had a plan for their future since before even entering Hogwarts—but she was helping around the house and with her parents now that so much of Aunt Audrey and Uncle Percy's time was being swallowed up between rushing between work and St Mungo's.
"How's your mother hold up, Molly?" Roxy's mum came up behind her, reaching past her daughter to give Molly a gentle smile and a firm hug. Molly stepped inside to let her aunt and cousin into the house and escorted the two past the foyer, towards where the dining room was located.
Of her many uncles, Roxy had spent the least time around uncle Percy, or his wife. They were both high-level Ministry employees—in fact, uncle Percy was running for Minister next year—both of whom spent the majority of their time at their jobs. This meant that Molly and Lucy. Had been shuffled between relatives for a large portion of their childhood.
Roxy remembered having shared a bedroom with both of her cousins one time in particular because neither of their parents was around to pick them up by the time they were meant to go to bed. Lucy had started crying, which—to five year old Roxy—was amongst the scariest things she'd ever seen, considering that Lucy was nine at the time, and nine years were "big girls" that weren't supposed to cry about anything.
She was quite certain that it was this sort of upbringing that had played a part in the general nature of both daughters, as contrasting as they were; independent, "do it myself" Molly that never asked for help from anyone compared to helpless, hapless Lucy that always needed someone to lean on lest she fall down and find herself unable to get back up.
"Roxy? What's going on in that head of yours?" Molly smiled at Roxy, motioning for her to sit down at the dining table, which had been set up for breakfast.
Roxy blushed, staying where she was embarrassed by the fact that she had been unaware that she'd even lost focus. "Sorry, Mol. I've been..." She sighed. "You know how I've been. It's hard to think about anything in particular. You lose interest so quickly in everything around you, get distracted far more easily than you used to."
"You're scared for them." It was not a question to be thought over, but rather a statement. A known fact. The truth.
"Yes."
"Perhaps—" Molly turned to look at aunt Angelina. "I think that Roxy and I should talk in private for a little while. You know, cousin to cousin." She flashes Roxy's mum an encouraging smile, and the older woman nodded. Molly knew how to talk to adults—she could be just as reasonable as they were, twisting her behaviour and words until they agreed with her. After all, Molly had practically been an adult since she was eleven years old. People trusted what she said.
Molly put a hand on Roxy's back, escorting her deeper into the house, closer to where Molly and Lucy's childhood bedrooms were located. Roxy wondered what her cousin wanted to talk about, but just as she opened her mouth to ask, Molly stopped a few feet from her old room, pausing in front of an old photo hanging on the wall.
It was one of the dozen or so photographs located around the house, mostly capturing moments of the two sisters over the holidays, their arms thrown around each other, grinning at a camera; these pictures, Roxy remembered, were not taken by Uncle Percy or Aunt Audrey, nor hung by them either. Her uncle and aunt were not sentimental people. It had been a cousin or a friend who took these photos, and Molly who hung them. She probably knew the story behind every single photograph in this house.
The photo in particular that they were standing in front of was of the twelve cousins; it must have been at least a decade ago that this was taken, because Dominique was still in the photo and she kept smiling and laughing, instead of looking like the sort of girl who was about to throw herself into the Thames a few days after her nineteenth birthday. She looked happy. And Freddie, too, no more than fifteen here, one arm around James and the other holding a rubber haddock.
"Remember this?" Molly asked, running a hand in front of the portrait of the twelve Weasley cousins, a wistful smile curling her lips. "Christmas of '18. I was a seventh year then. You were only, what—nine?" She tapped the Roxy of the photo, who was the smallest one, standing in the very centre of the picture, surrounded by all of those older and taller children. "And Lucy...she was only a third year. Still a little kid."
The Lucy. From the photograph was leaning against Louis; at thirteen, they were both of a similar height, Lucy. Just a fraction of a centimetre taller. It was the year that Lucy had dyed her hair, and this made them look almost like twins, two strawberry blonds hanging on each other, sharing a private joke that no one else in the whole world would ever understand.
"I remember that Christmas. Being so bloody dramatic about it because it rather felt like a—a stepping stone, just another mark in the story of my life, the end of a chapter, yet the continuation of a tradition that I felt was rather childish. It was my last Christmas. As a Hogwarts students, but here I was stuck with all of my bratty little cousins." She winked at Roxy. "Sometimes I wish we could return to moments like this. Domi and Freddie still alive, Lucy. Not at St Mungo's, and the rest of us not scrambling around like ants, a bunch of big messes trying to figure ourselves out with no hope of ever finding the answers."
This made Roxy blink in surprise and turn to stare at Molly. She had always thought of her older cousins as one of the very few organised and well put-together people that existed in this world. But the idea that Molly did not see things in the same way threw her for a loop. If even Molly didn't feel in control of her own life, how was Roxy supposed to manage?
"You and Vic always seem to know what you're doing," she replied, watching the younger versions of her family members make faces at the camera. "Vic's married, she has kids and a nice job. You've got peter and your Ministry job. To me, you two have always been the example of put-together and well prepared. I thought it was intimidating, really, how much of your life you two had under control. I could never pull that off."
Molly chuckled. "You thought Vic and I are put-together? Merlin's pants, Rox, we're a couple of regular kids who're gonna mess us sooner or later, same as you. Remember when Vic panicked because she thought that Teddy was going to propose to her, so she dumped him instead? Or when I tried to bake a cake for Granddad's birthday and nearly blew up the kitchen at the Burrow? Hell, just a few weeks ago, I was discussing with her about my inability to let peter even propose to me, let alone talk about getting married or starting a family. I'm less prepared for that chapter of my life than Rose and Albus, and they're six years younger than I am. So this idea of being mature and suddenly knowing all of the answers in life? Trust me, it doesn't really exist."
"Are you supposed to be making me feel worse than I already am?" Roxy asked glibly, sticking her tongue out at Molly.
"No, just showing you that it's okay not to have all the answers. It's okay if you don't know what's going to happen next or how to handle all the crazy things that life might throw at you. It's just always going to be this way, do you understand? Nobody has the 'answers' because we're all still trying to figure things out for ourselves. That's just how life works. So if—if something were to happen to Lucy or Kieran, just keep in mind that we're all trying our hardest to make sure they stay safe and stay alive. But sometimes, these things are out of our control, and the important thing is to learn from what happens to you."
"But if they die and the Healers didn't do everything they could—
"They are trying everything they know to do, Rox. The Healers are trained professionals—they've studied a million and one possibilities of what might happen to someone, and they're going to use every bit of knowledge they have to keep Lucy and Kieran alive for as long as possible. Unfortunately, just because you want someone to get better doesn't always mean they will. And we have to be ready in case that's what happens. In case they...in case they die."
Roxy didn't understand how Molly could say these things, how she could talk about her own sister dying without a hint of emotion. "she's your sister, Molly. How can you be okay with this?"
"I'm not okay with it." Molly shook her head. "it'll break my heart if Lucy dies. I love my little sister more than anything else in the world and I would never want anything to happen to her. But it's part of being an adult to recognise that, if Lucy passes, at least she won't be in pain any more. She won't have to suffer any longer. And it'll hurt for a long time—you know that you've lost more people than I have and at a much younger age, and you know what it's like. But I—we all—need to be ready to adjust to a life without her here."
Roxy fixed her eyes once more on the photograph, watching the younger version of herself grinning up at the camera, holding up one of her Christmas presents—a brand new Firebolt 2800 that was today sitting in the broom shed at the Potter house, untouched in quite some time. She looked, for all appearances, to be a normal, happy nine year old girl.
"Molly, Roxy, I have pancakes ready in the dining room! You, too, Percy, time for breakfast. I won't have you skipping out on a meal for the second day in a row! Breakfast is important."
Molly gave Roxy a dim smile, looking not happy so much as she seemed...okay. Ready to handle anything. "C'mon, let's go have pancakes and then we can visit Lucy, yeah? She'll be fine, Rox. I mean, for one thing, she's Lucy—a Weasley through and through. And you know us Weasleys, we never give up. So stop frowning and let's hurry before all the syrup's gone. The pancakes are a little dry without any and Dad's started a notorious habit of trying to steal it all before anyone else can have any."
A nurse was changing the bandages of both patients when Aunt Audrey opened the door, following by her daughter and youngest niece. Mum had opted to stay downstairs in the lobby, explaining that hospital rooms made her nervous, which was understandable, considering how many times she had ended up in one from various Quidditch injuries over the years.
"Hello Ms Kosaraju," Roxy said, giving the nurse a friendly wave. Ms Kosaraju was the usual morning nurse, and Roxy had gotten into the habit of buying her a cup of tea every morning from the gift shop downstairs. She handed the older woman her tea, receiving a grateful look in return.
"How are they doing today?" asked Aunt Audrey, looking worriedly over to where her daughter was strapped to a bed, unconscious and looking—if possible—worse than ever.
Kieran didn't seem to be doing very much better; his cheeks were sunken, his skin was sallow. They were quite similar to two sleeping skeletons, just one small jump from St Mungo's to the grave. Roxy's heart twitched to see them both looking so terribly. How would she able to handle losing either of these two?
Kieran's younger sister, Kara, was sitting in a chair next to his bed, clinging to her brother's hand, stroking his forehead. Roxy couldn't look in her direction, seeing too much of herself in the fifteen year old girl, who was trying so desperately to keep her older brother alive, no matter what anyone else said.
Her parents had let her spend the weekends away from Hogwarts to be able to spend as much time as she could by her brother's side, in case the worst possible scenario were to happen.
"Mr Kanallakan is showing a quite excitable amount of brain wave activity whenever we scan him, I can tell you that." Ms Kosaraju waved her wand over Kieran's head to bring up a blue, glowing model of his brain, which kept sparking, lights running up and down the various parts of his brain, moving far too quickly for Roxy to make any sense of it. "He's clearly fighting to stay alive, despite the extent of his injuries. This is a young lad who is clearly not ready to give up just yet."
Kara looked up hopefully.
"And my daughter? How is she faring?"
Kieran's brain was replaced by a model of Lucy's. It was duller, with far too many patches of yellow covering large areas; the glow of her brain flickered from time to time, blinking out for longer moments of time.
"Ms Weasley is also trying, and she seems to be responding to the potions that we started giving her last week, but..." Ms Kosaraju took a deep breath. "Well, it would seem that her brain wave activity has still slowed dramatically, even more so than our most critical of assumptions based off the charts we made to mark her progress. It's worrying us that, despite all the physical improvement she's showing, her brain has appeared to improve very little, if at all."
"What does that mean?"
"Well," Kosaraju replied, sighing, "it means that while Lucy could potentially recover and wake up at any point in time, she may not be Lucy any more." the three Weasley females exchanged confused expressions. "She could be physically healthy—her wounds would recover and it would be like she never got hurt at all. But her brain might be gone...or at least parts of it. Her ability to rationalise or sympathise or recall information; any of it could suffer irreparable damage that disallows her from ever living a normal life again. I believe the muggles refer to this as being a 'living vegetable'. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing how badly she might be until Lucy wakes up and we can perform cognitive tests on her."
Roxy turned to glance at her cousin, wondering how life would change if Lucy woke up...wrong. She wasn't sure what vegetables had to do with it, but Roxy could not picture bubbly, imaginative Lucy sitting still all day, not responding or reacting to anything. It would be a fate that Lucy herself would consider worse than death.
Aunt Audrey, a half-blood witch with a muggle father, frowned at the term 'vegetable' pursed her lips and thought intently about what Ms Kosaraju had said. "What are the chances that she won't be so bad that she couldn't function on her own? Like, say, if she didn't have any serious mental deficiencies—what are the odds of that happening?"
Ms Kosaraju ran her hands through her hair, sighing deeply once more. "I couldn't tell you for sure, Mrs Weasley, but the odds of your surviving at all are still much lower than we hoped for at this point. I just...i suspect—though the Healer might have information that contradicts me—that your daughter may end up spending the rest of her life in the Janus Thickey Ward."