The rest of her year ended quickly, even with the endings of despair still clinging tightly to Claire's being. She hung out with Fred and George, as well as branching off to join her friend from Hufflepuff. Nathan was there but not as prominent. Claire sometimes saw him looking at her, wanting to ask her something, or speak to her. But he never actually came up to her, and she couldn't reach out to him from her hole of mourning.

Dean, too, was a joy in her life. She helped him with his Transfiguration whenever he asked, saying he was stomped on how this spell worked, or how to wave his wand, or things that Claire didn't know last year either. The blonde would smile at him and help, knowing he was doing a good job at keeping her sadness at bay.

She would sometimes hang out with Hermione, listen to her as she spoke greatly about wizarding works that Claire would never have known about if it weren't for the bushy haired girl's fascination with magic. One of the many things Claire enjoyed in life was people talking about something they loved, and Hermione could go on for hours about things she loved. The Third Year would run circles around the Fourth, and Claire would sometimes have to step back with a grin, apologizing for her lack of knowledge.

The end of the year feast was the same as normal, except there was an empty seat. Professor Lupin, one of the only teachers Claire had come to enjoy over the years, was missing. She looked back at Harry, mouth open to ask, but decided better not to ask. However good a teacher Lupin was, she didn't want to bother Harry or the other teachers about him. The reasons he left prior to the feast may have been personal matters and should be left at that.

Before the train, Claire exchanged addresses with both Dean Thomas and David. She told them she would write them as soon as she was done unpacking, and would tell them how her grandmother was. All of the summer stuff that she had written to Nathan when he was in her life.

On the train back home, Claire sat staring out the window, unsure of how to react to who was picking her up. She had received a letter via owl a few weeks prior from her aunt, the one that lived in the United States, that she would be there to pick her up. Her grandmother, old and unable to drive, was out of the question for picking her up. However, she and her Aunt Bethra would watch over her for the summer. Her cousin Phillip would be coming along once she finished school, but her uncle would not.

She hadn't seen her grandmother in over ten years, and she was uncertain why. Her father never talked about her, and Claire had a feeling that it had something to do with her elusive mother. The blonde wouldn't pick at either of the people staying in her house, the generous people that would help her go through her father's things, so she pushed her mother to the far side of her mind.

"Claire?" It was a distant voice, and it took a moment for the Fourth Year to focus on it.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think you would be able to come to the World Cup with us? Our dad has a couple extra tickets, two for Ron's friends and I wanted to know if you would come too." It was George who walked carefully now, wording well and keeping away from the line she had drawn in the sand of mentioning her father.

A smile worked its way onto her face, and Claire nodded. "Of course. But I would have to ask my aunt first."

"Sure. Just get back to us-"

"-as soon as you can. You never know-"

"-we might have people lined up for them," Fred finished, grinning at her as well.

"I would believe that in a million years."

Claire couldn't helped but smile at them, smile at their friendship toward her, smile at their kindness and brotherly actions even in the darkest of times. She loved them very much, and was incredibly glad that they were in her life. The blonde would hardly tell them that, though. She had told them she loved them once, and that was when the twins let her cry into their clothing, and when her father passed away. It was whispered, and she wasn't sure if they heard her.

Fred and George had heard her loud and clear but did not dare share that information with her. She had only said that in a time of desperation, and would only do it again a few other times.

When the train came to a stop at King's Cross Station, Claire glanced out the window, looking for her father, forgetting he wasn't there. Claire thought she saw a flash of blond hair, but it turned out to be the Third Year Malfoy's father, with his bright hair and cane. She searched again, but remembered that he was not there, that he would never be there again.

Her eyes tore away from the window so fast, and she fought off tears. No, not here. George glanced at his place from grabbing her truck, saw the tears in her eyes, and moved over once he took it down. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's okay."

It was most definitely not okay, but George wasn't one to fight her. "Come on, you two. Let's go get the trolleys. And find everyone else." Claire nodded and followed them, making sure not to look out the window, making sure not to check out the person who wasn't there.

When the trolleys were piled with their belongings, the trio went out in search for the people they knew. They found the Weasley's where they normally were, and Claire looked for her aunt. She had a vague memory of a brown haired woman, shorter than her father, with blue eyes. She only had the same nose as her father, and the eye color, but that's where it stopped, she recalled.

As Molly talked to George about his school year, Claire began to walk away, searching for her ride. She left her trolley next to the redheaded family, knowing she probably wouldn't be gone long. She filtered through the faces of people and the voices that did not sound familiar. Claire's eyes looked around the crowd wildly, as if she was lost at the grocers. As if she were five again.

"Daddy?" The words came out of her mouth, and she felt younger, in aisles of food, lost, looking for her dad. Younger her would clutch her shirt or dress, sad and about ready to cry. "Dad?" This time she spoke them loud and clear, falling to her knees on the concert, tears falling down her cheeks. She placed her hands on the ground, not knowing they would be stepped on by kids and parents.

She started sobbing, not able to control it as the reality overcame her. The reality of her father being gone and never picking her up or kissing her on the forehead or telling her about her mum all fell through the cracks of the ground.

"Claire!" A voice moved through the crowd, hitting her in the heart like a hammer. She didn't know what to do, who it was, or if she knew it. It was a whole cluster of people moving out of the person's way, and she heard more footsteps heading toward her.

"Claire, are you okay?" It was a brunette, who picked up her face and examined her eyes and searched for something familiar in those hazel eyes. Aunt Bethra!

"I...I'm okay," she replied, wiping tears from her face, composing herself in front of the crowd of witches and wizards and the select Muggles. "I just-"

"Claire, we thought you had gotten kidnapped." That was Fred, moving to help her up and interrupting her thoughts.

"We were scared," Molly said as she approached them, pushing Claire's trolley toward them. "Oh, hello. You must be Claire's aunt. Hello, I'm Molly!"

Claire stood on shaky legs, holding on to Fred's arm and not wanting to make eye contact with any of the people around her. She was sure her face was red and blotchy from crying, filled with embarrassment from losing it in front of everyone. However, she stood straighter and watched as her aunt replied.

"I'm Bethra. It's a pleasure to meet you. Claire talked a lot about the twins when I was last here."

"I'm glad. I hope you enjoy your stay in England, and if you need anything Claire knows where we live," Molly said as she began to wheel the trolley closer to Claire, looking over her shoulder at the rest of her family.

"We'll see you again," George said, patting Claire on the head and following his mum.

As everyone began to drift away from Claire and Bethra, Fred stayed, putting a hand on her arm. "If you need any help, just send your owl after us, okay? We don't live that far away in the scheme of chimneys. And we're always there for you. Understood?"

"Thank you, Fred. You mean a lot to me." She nodded and hugged him quickly, making sure no one saw, but wanting to because she needed it, not knowing that her hugs with this boy were limited by four or so years. She didn't know and she would wish you hugged him more. But she let go of him and wished him a nice summer before turning back to her aunt.

"Are you sure you're okay, Claire?" Aunt Bethra asked, hand clenching the trolley tightly as they walked. She hadn't been in King's Cross Station for over three decades. It seemed all new to her, yet the same. She walked with Claire toward the wall where guards were slowly letting people through.

"I'm fine," she replied, wiping her eyes again. "I just...I just remembered something."