Chapter Two: Shadows
"Is she breathing?"
Minerva's head snapped up.
There was nobody there, only the shadow of night. Had Morpheus of dreams come to her, finally? Surely he was the shadow, surrounding her, enveloping her, seeping into her. What else could this darkness possibly be, other than dreaming?
She swallowed down the icy blue air, the all-consuming pool of nothingness flooded down her throat and welled deep in her chest. Oh, the girl knew pain: her heart was to capsize under the weight, overexposed and underprepared as it was. So frigid it smarted, it burned, her chest started and stopped: nothing could be done. The muscle clung onto itself and writhed as it staved off death. And she let out her pain with a low, inhuman scream that rang in her own ears and over the land, "Nooo…"
The ghostly reverberation swept the snow into the feckless wind as it swirled out of its dreamy slumber. Around and around the wet flecks rushed, growing in rage with every second; the cast-off shards struck at her head like daggers of ice. Minerva threw up her hand to block the storm from penetrating her eyes, her forearms lashed with cold.
Her head rolled back—the girl's exposed neck bled wantonly, as though her blood wanted only to be free of her and join the wind.
The hot blood drained down her collarbone, warming her chest if only for a moment.
She looked down as her naked flesh grew red.
How pretty it looked.
"Minerva!"
Minerva blinked, recognizing the echo surrounding her.
She didn't want to see him. She would like it if she never saw him again, ever.
Her skin looked so pale against the dark blood. She wondered that vampires didn't quite have it wrong—was there nothing so beautiful as contrast as it existed in nature? She lifted her arm and stared at the streaks of blood: it was a river, a warm, colorful river.
All at once, the liquid covered her completely, swishing as if an ocean from her head to her toes. Her body acquiesced as the water motioned her one way and then another with its current of chaos. Her wide eyes stared through the black abyss of endless ocean.
All was quiet.
Nothing existed.
And then she remembered.
Minerva gasped for air and opened her eyes.
Fire singed her vision, real flames; they flickered like little stars that filled the darkness and twinkled with warmth.
"Minerva? Minerva, thank Merlin," Albus's voice echoed through the air.
She watched her heart sink through her rib cage like the slushy organ it was: it sank through the bed, then the floor and landed on the quidditch pitch. The girl stared at the pile of blood pudding on the grass, feeling nothing whatever of it. Who had made that mess?
"You really must be more careful next time," her father stated with a wink.
"I don't know how it happened," she replied, eyes suddenly full. Oh, she did not like to disappoint him! There was nothing worse than disappointing her father in all the world! "How shall I fix it?"
"Well," he crouched down next to the pile, "you can't well put it back, can you?" The man cocked his head and gestured for her to come to him. He placed a hand on her back and she found herself bent over the pudding herself. "I bet you could purchase a new one, one that isn't covered in dirt and grass."
"I haven't any money," she said simply.
"Well," he put his hand to his mustached chin, "can we repair it?"
"I don't want that one."
"But it's been yours for so very long."
"I don't want one at all."
"Hm," he looked at her sympathetically. "I don't think people can live without one. It's a vital organ, Love. Do you know what that means?" He placed his hands over his military trousers and stood erect. He waited patiently as a statue as she cocked her own head at him.
She didn't very much care if she needed one to live. "I shan't be having one, that is all there is to it."
His lips slid up warmly, though the rest of his body remained stiff and soldierly. "I am far from home right now, fighting for you to live a good life. What should become of me if I find that my daughter doesn't have a heart?"
He was right, really.
But was he right to make her feel guilty?
A flash of bright light and an ear-breaking screech in the place where her father stood informed her of his death. Shock filled her first as she stared at the scorched divot in the earth. What was there moments ago no longer existed, nor would it ever again.
Her eyes pooled and she choked down a sob.
Soldiers ran past her as the sound of muggle machines of war filled the fiery air. "They're coming!" they all seemed to be screaming. "Go, go, go!" Lightning filled the air. And where there was not lightning, there were planes. The land before her was shrouded in fog.
Minerva looked back at the ground only once before gathering her wand and beginning to run with the rest of them.
At a dead sprint, she embraced the fog before her and soon found herself in a deeply wooded forest. Over the bramble! Around this tree and that! Deeper and deeper she ran into the thickness until she was free of all noises and there was only the eerie silence to accompany her.
She slowed to a cautious walk, eyes alert and wand ready.
"Min," the wind whispered softly before choking on its own rainwater, "I'm so sorry."
"Nice try," she whispered back, "but I would rather you forego the false pretenses." Her eyes darted towards a particularly wide pine tree and the shadow lurking behind it. She would not be tricked by this enemy, this shadow. No one would be getting her like they got her father.
Anger filled her at the thought.
She didn't have a dad because of them.
"Avada Kedavra!" she screamed as she pointed her wand at the tree.
The body thudded onto the ground.
She darted towards the figure, but drew back once she saw her mother's frozen lips that still had an expression upon them as if to say, "Surprise!"
Minerva sprang up from her pillow, eyes wet, chest heaving and throat burning.
"Sunny, she's awake again!"
The girl blinked, not wholly prepared for another shock. She looked with abject horror at Albus who was sitting next to her bed, clearly excited about something.
She started sobbing.
She didn't know where she was. She didn't know why Albus was there. She didn't know why he was calling to the sun. But she did know that she did not want him there. She wanted him far away.
No sooner did she think depulso, that she watched the man fly backwards across the room.
A wave of dizziness slammed against her forehead, knocking her head back onto the pillow. She closed her eyes again as a new voice flooded over her thoughts, "What in the name of Merlin…?"
"Yes, that's exactly what they will say, one day."
Minerva gave a laugh at the aging, white bearded wizard. "Do you really think yourself that important?"
"Of course," he shrugged with the audacity that only an egoist can exude. "I have made sure of that. They will look at me as a god. They will owe everything to me. Who besides me has dabbled in all of the magical arts? Created books and spells? Discovered rare herbs and created potions? No one!"
The girl stood up and rolled her eyes, throwing a satchel over her shoulder. "What a dreamer you are. I'm off. Mustn't disappoint my mother, you know."
Merlin tapped his nose, "Of course not. Off you get."
Minerva ran down the dirt path towards home, the surrounding summer sunshine rife with joy.
What a beautiful day!
She chuckled to herself as she passed the lavender and the oak tree. They would picnic! And her father would roll down the hill with her until the sun went down behind the hills. And her mother would playfully tsk at them when their noses were itchy for the rest of the evening. But of course she would give an antidote to her daughter and Minerva would sleep so very well that night!
The girl ran at full speed towards the wooden gate of their garden and flung it open.
Her smile fell.
Why wasn't her mother there?
Mother had said that she would be waiting in the garden.
She ran towards the house again at full speed, fear driving her forward.
Where had she gone? Was she too late? Had she run out of time?
Run.
She reached out her hand as she neared the doorknob.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Oh, but she was getting nowhere!
Thudthudthud!
The house seemed to pull away from her even as she picked up speed.
She slipped.
Her whole body tumbled to the floor.
Knees, hips, elbows, face; all shredded with rocks and dirt.
The earth welcomed her body as a new object on which to slather ivy.
The vines crept over her flesh hungrily and pulled her into the soil.
So warm; the clay of the ground molded against her flesh and for the first time in ages, she was without fear. The very earth cradled her. It loved her and kept her from harm.
Because she was afraid.
So afraid.
…how did she let that happen?
She stared up at the full moon from her bed of dirt and blanket of ivy with longing.
"I never meant for this to happen," it stated plainly at her.
She didn't blame it.
She chose this bed on her own.
The scent of lemon and sugar assaulted her nose.
She shook her head at the moon, the big moon that traveled thousands of miles everyday and met millions of people. "What is one girl to you?"
And the moon began to cry.
It was unlike any sound she had ever heard before—eerie, ghostly, even. The unearthly wail of the moon echoed over the land as water began to fall.
Plopplopploplopplopplop.
Whshshshshshsh.
Oooooooh.
Nooo.
Minerva groaned with eyes open only wide enough to see through a sliver of pupil. It was so bright in the room. At least she thought she must be in a room. She certainly wasn't outside, therefore she had to be inside.
Inside with the moon?
It was still crying.
She turned her head slightly towards the sound of the low sobs.
Her eyes opened wider as the girl took in the figure beside her, the sad, drippy, snotty creature. It covered its head in its arms and doubled over its chair beside her, shaking into its own body. Surely it was human, but not like any she had ever met. The wet sobs filled the air.
She studied it for a moment longer before realizing she did not care.
She had no interest in this blubbering thing.
It was only a thing.
A heavy wave of sleeping drought washed over her eyes.
"I cannot live without you," he whispered into her ear, his lips pecking the side of her head lovingly afterwards.
A warm smile slipped over her lips as she looked at the man. "You'll have to, you know. I threw my heart into the dirt where you will never find it again."
He took a step backwards, face filled with confusion. "But you promised it to me."
Anger rose up in her, her lips contorting maliciously and eyes narrowing in judgment without any warning at all. "I promised you nothing. You reached into my chest and stole it for yourself. Well I stole it back and I gave it up! I have no heart for you-you-you-you pathetic creature!"
The man stared at her for a moment before shrugging.
Poof.
He disappeared.
Minerva blinked.
Her chest hurt so.
She felt the wetness upon her cheek and rubbed her face into the pillow.
On the other cheek, a warm hand touched her gently. "You must eat," the woman stated. "Just a little, Minerva."
Trancelike, her head turned to face the woman, this unidentified voice. She was soft, just a haze, really; surely a woman, though. Angels weren't real, after all.
"Eat," the girl repeated in a whisper, rummaging through her brain to find meaning in the word.
Minerva's eyes clenched together as pain radiated in every synapse she possessed. "Oooow," she moaned and turned the other direction, bringing the pain along with her.
"Here," the kindly lady whispered before placing something wet on the girl's forehead.
Immediately the wringing of her mind grew dull and the tension left her body. Somewhere in her thoughts, she found the words, "Thank you."
There was no reply that Minerva could decipher.
The girl continued to stare at the wall for a few more moments as she lived in the silence. She had been here before, in this place. She knew the windows. And the light.
Somewhere behind her, there was a gentle clink.
The woman appeared in front of her, having the gift of mobility. She had a quite serious expression, but her voice was soft. "I have a few questions for you. You must try to stay awake. Please. We all would like that."
Minerva blinked.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Minerva," she replied weakly.
Encouragement flooded the woman's features. "When is your birthday?"
Minerva blinked again. Birthday? When was that? When she was born? Of course it was. But when was that?
The words slipped out of her mouth as though it were a reflex, "October 4th."
"Good," the woman smiled, satisfied.
Without warning, Minerva felt her head fall back against the pillow as her back shifted upwards. She was being propped up by an unknown force. Her heavy head would not be lifted on her own accord: she looked forward at the large, stark room filled with beds.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Uhm," she looked down at the boney figure beneath the blankets that must have been her own body with disinterest. Her vision purposefully slipped out of focus: nothing but white blurs surrounded her and she retreated into her own thoughts. She gave a lethargic sigh, "Infirmary."
What sort of a test was this and what bearing did it have on anything?
"Mmm," the woman replied with surprise. "Do you remember why you're here?"
The girl closed her eyes. She had no interest in this. The only thing she wanted at all was for the brightness to go away so that she could live in the darkness. Her head hurt so much less when she slept; her body, too.
"I know you want to sleep," the woman's hand squeezed her shoulder, "but you need a bit of food and water. We can't get you well if you don't eat or drink."
She kept her eyes closed, "No food."
"Drink some broth? Just a few sips, please."
Her head swam in thick sleepy waves.
Broth?
Minerva licked her lips as she thought on this suggestion.
Her eyes opened with some force and looked to the left, "All right, then."
Without ceremony, a spoon hovered towards her, piloted by the green hand of a smaller creature than the woman.
The hot liquid slid into her throat as she reflexively closed her mouth around the vessel: it ran down to her stomach with a gentle whoosh. Warmth spread through her whole body. Immediately, she was aware of the fact that she could feel the tips of her fingers and ends of her toes, of which she had previously given no thought. They throbbed dully, radiating inwards in conjunction with her heavy heartbeat.
She liked sleep much better.
The spoon tipped against her lips again and she opened her mouth with a groan.
"Five more," the woman said softly, "then you may sleep again."
What an arbitrary number.
Minerva swallowed and opened her mouth feebly.
Again, the brown liquid cascaded down her throat.
One.
Her lips parted again and she drank.
Two.
Open again and wait.
Three.
Last time, then freedom.
Four.
She loved flying more than anything; to feel the cold air on her face, to see the world open wide below her, to know that she was in utter and complete control of her destiny. There was no one else that could speak or act for her while she was flying: flying was freedom.
The smile could not be taken away from her face as she zoomed over the green grassy hills and blue lochs.
Minerva gave a nod to the black grouses she passed, "How do you do?"
"Very well, thank you," they all seemed to reply. "And you, my dear?"
"Very well! I'm on my way to see Mr. Heathcliff whom I haven't seen in ages!"
They chittered amongst themselves before the leader remarked, "Oh, he has been in an awful mood, my dear. Perhaps today is not the day, take it from a friend."
She felt rather put out at the idea, "Perhaps I can enliven his mood for the better?"
The flock shook its head in unison: variations of "I wouldn't" and "don't my dear!" erupted from them.
Well, if that's what they thought (those creatures that knew everything about everyone because that was simply how they navigated the world), she would perhaps take their suggestion and avoid the man altogether. She resolved instead to fly down and sit in a lovely tree as the sun set.
The flock flew one way and she another.
Down she drifted and landed gracefully on the branch of a grand established oak.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled herself close as she looked over a glassy lake as it reflected brilliant ripples of red, orange and yellow.
A sigh escaped her lips.
There she was.
Alone.
Again.
Were freedom and loneliness not the same?
A shadow fell over the lands.
Minerva dreamed a dreamless sleep for hours, perhaps even days.