Title: Death by a Thousand Cuts
Author: Sealed144
Chapter One: Godric's Hollow
When he was seventeen, my brother Nathaniel was killed.
When enough years had passed in order for me to look back on what had happened, I often found myself discussing with others what series of events had led up to this tragedy. Many told me it was the Dark Lord's fault, that this Wizarding War was to blame, but I still maintain that this all started when I got mixed up with a group of boys calling themselves the Marauders in my sixth year at Hogwarts.
It began the summer before my fifteenth birthday when Sirius Black ran away from home, and began living with the Potter's, who happened to be my next door neighbors in the little town of Godric's Hollow. But I guess if one really wanted to take a broad view of the thing, it really began with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising to power in the 70's.
It was a dark time, when wizards and witches lived in fear. Everywhere you looked, there was news of murder; one learned to become numb to seeing photos in the Prophet of the Dark Mark hanging above the house of someone they once knew. Carry on, they said for that's all we could do if one was on the Dark Lord's hit list.
But before all that, I guess it really began with my great-great-grandfather, Eustace Ward who had been a squib born to a witch and a muggle father, and hid his source of shame by integrating amongst the Muggle world and pretending that magic didn't exist. He traveled the world to get away from London and the knowledge that he was a disappointment to his entire family.
In his travels he saw the port of Hong Kong, tasted the spices of Pondicherry, and walked the white sand beaches of the Caribbean. Eventually he ended up in the the Americas and settled down with a Muggle wife and had Muggle children. They were quite happy, and moving West, became wealthy from investing in a steam engine firm that became an empire.
News of his success reached his family back in England, but to the family's dismay, he shunned them saying that he made his fortune from his own hard work and talent; no magic involved. Therefore, with the patriarch of the American Ward family being a squib, the entirety of them believed that anything to do with magic was foolish because it was not magic but persistent effort that granted them the privilege they had come to enjoy.
With their fortune the Ward family had built themselves a manor and factory in the north and specialized in steamboat manufacturing and trade between the Old and New World. With plentiful work at the factory, many houses were built in the area and there was even a small church and school house in the town center. Eventually it became known Wardville, and the town enjoyed modest prosperity. Us Wards lived comfortably in this way for many generations, being held in high regard as the founders of the small town and in the good graces of most who lived there through the sizable donations given to many a charity within the town.
However, this all changed when the dormant gene of magic somehow found its way back into the Ward family through my father, Leonidas Ward, who was able to levitate a coveted bottle of milk from the top shelf into his crib one fateful night. He subsequently attended Ilvermorny for his basic schooling, before joining a fellowship in England though he never reunited with the British Wards on principle.
After returning to America, MACUSA had found his background and connections with the British commendable, and he was quickly promoted to Consulate General and then Ambassador to the American Embassy in London. As an Ambassador in London, my father married his secretary at the Embassy and their first son, Nathaniel was born in 1958. Not long after, I followed, born Claire Marie Ward on the third of November, 1959, a half-blood witch.
Growing up in the American Embassy had been a source of joy for me as a child. Matilda was our tutor, and would come to London during the weekdays to teach us reading, writing, and arithmetic. Ms. Matilda was a smart young woman, determined to make a difference with her education in child psychology. However, she and her adolescent brother were orphaned and she often needed to stay home to care for him. Teaching homeschool allowed for her to do both.
Nate, being barely a year older, was my partner in crime. Ms. Matilda often told us that Nate and I gave her premature grey hairs with our antics. We were like bread and butter, taking turns sliding down the polished wooden bannister and drawing moustaches on portraits when the house-elves weren't looking, only to be caught by Ms. Matilda and given the switch for behaving like wild things. But no matter how sore our bottoms were, or how grown-up Nate would claim to be, I could always convince him to help me pocket cakes and pasties from the kitchen afterwards.
Growing up, I had wanted to go to Ilvermorny as my father had, but my mother insisted it was too far away and home-schooling was the more respectable choice as our father was a diplomat. Regardless of the school I attended, Ms. Matilda always reminded me that Nate would most likely achieve excellence first if I didn't stop causing trouble in the kitchens or having rows with the other home-schooled children during meet-ups. I was told I excelled in wand work, but needed to improve my socialization skills.
This was in part because when I was six I'd been caught rubbing Basil Vanity's nose into the dirt outside the French consulate where his mother worked that was neighbor to ours. But what she didn't understand was that I had only rubbed his nose in the dirt because he had been picking on Nate and calling him names back when he was shorter and skinnier than I was. After that Basil had called his friends to chase me down during our breaks. Ever since then, Ms. Matilda always kept a close eye on me and kept me in calling distance during breaks in our homeschool sessions.
However, when Nate was around fifteen, he stretched out and began exercising every morning. Eventually he was over a foot taller than I, and solid as a brick house from his daily routine, and no longer needed my assistance for self-defense. Combined with his dark brown curly hair and blue-green eyes, our household began receiving many owls from various admirers after his growth spurt. And though he was much larger now, he still retained his gentle and serious nature; albeit if someone were to challenge him to a dare, a fiery steel would never fail to spark in his eyes.
My mother's family, the Clearwaters, resided in Godric's Hallow. During the summer months, we would leave the Embassy to stay with my maternal grandparents in the moors of Godric's Hollow to enjoy the countryside and the small town feeling that my father sorely missed since leaving Wardville. Despite his stylish wardrobe courtesy of my mother, he still considered himself a small town boy at heart and often woke with the rooster's crow at dawn to watch the sun rise with a cup of strong coffee instead of the traditional breakfast tea common to the English. He had a slow, steady manner that tempered my mother's high-strung nature, prone to nervous fits and anxiety.
For a child, Godric's Hollow in the summer was a wonderland of possibilities. All the townspeople were wand-users and open to pureblood and muggleborn alike. Therefore we would ride our training brooms around the front yard and raced down the cobblestone roads; Hours of wizarding chess were played in the park with the elderly; games of Gobstones on front porches with iced pumpkin juice was a common pastime.
We often played with our neighbor James Potter in those days. He was spoilt by the attention he'd received as an only child, but he was great on a broom, told exciting stories about his adventure's at Hogwarts, and his collection of Chocolate Frog cards were the envy of the town, which made him an invaluable companion.
But now as teenagers, almost of age, many things had changed. It was wartime, and many houses in Godric's Hollow had become abandoned as it was a high-risk zone for many muggle-born magical families lived there. The streets that were once filled with families and laughter, were now silent with windows boarded up. Even the fountain in the Town Square had stopped flowing during these trying times.
The Clearwaters had stayed in the Hollow out of stubbornness. After grandpa had passed away, grandma claiming that no Death Eater could make her leave the house she had made her memories with her husband in. Being pureblooded and uninvolved in Ministry affairs assured our grandmother little attention from the Dark Lord's forces, so Father let them be. Our neighbors the Potters were similar in their neutrality but Nate and I both agreed that the Potter's righteous streak would not leave them unaffiliated for long.
With Father's political position, us Wards were warned against staying in London where a majority of attacks had been focused. Hence the moment the haze of summer's heat came around, we were packed and set for Godric's Hollow a month earlier than usual.
Coming to Godric's Hollow, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia; from the smell of the drying grass to the sounds when I closed my eyes, I thought back to our warm childhood playing in the dirt.
Even the room that had been arranged for me hadn't changed since I last visited, still decorated with the frilly pink decorations that grandparents assumed for little girls. I had hated them back then, insistent that I was not like other girls who liked dolls (though I secretly had one hidden under my bed for fear that Nate would find it and tease me), but now I found the girlish touches ironic and fond reminders of their love.
After making sure we had settled in, our parents met us at the porch as they bid us goodbye. Father had a business trip back in America he needed to attend to, but he promised to be back before the summer was over.
"Nathaniel, take care of your little sister. You're the man of the household now while your mother and I are in America. And Clair, please try to behave and try not to worry your grandmum."
"Yes father," we said in dulcet tones.
"Clair, I have something for you," he whispered into my ear, and handed me a small black box.
I opened it to find a beautiful golden medallion with scalloped edges hanging on a scarlet ribbon that looked ancient but well preserved.
"But it's not my birthday," I replied, "What is this?"
"For safekeeping, it's a family heirloom. It'd look quite silly on Nathaniel, so I'm giving it to you. Don't let it out of your sight!" he said with a wink before mussing my hair.
I put the medallion around my neck, and it felt warm and reassuring against my skin.
As my father looked back from the car one last time, I sprinted to him and wrapped my arms around him. I could smell the tobacco from the pipe he smoked and his aftershave as he planted a kiss on my forehead.
"My precious Clair, be good and we'll see you both again soon. I love you."
"I love you too Dad."
And then they were gone, off to MACUSA's headquarters in the District of Columbia in the United States of America.
What we would never have expected was for those to be the last words we ever heard from our father.
The next day the Daily Prophet's headline was plastered with bold text and scrolling marquees about the PanAm plane crash carrying Ambassador Ward of MACUSA and his wife. A black and white family photo that we had taken together during the Embassy's Christmas pageant was underneath a photo of Father and Mother boarding the plane. The vessel had been sunk somewhere over the Atlantic, the remains still unfound.
Our household was consumed in grief. The two portraits of our mother and father hung over the mantle draped in black. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had come by with many puddings and casseroles to offer their condolences. Nathaniel had become sullen and silent, so I had hoped to see James to take my mind off of things, but Hogwarts still had a month left in session.
I resorted to wandering the moors on my own from morning until dusk, coming home with my mourning clothes covered in mud and swamp water. That route had become my daily exercise until Grandmum received a letter from the Ministry advising us to stay indoors and not go wandering on our own at any time.
After that I read most days to pass the time; wizarding tales, cookbooks, textbooks, Teen Witch magazines, Witch Weekly, anything I could get my hands on. The most precious was the illustrated copy of the Tales of Beetle the Bard my parents used to read me at night when I refused to sleep.
I cried myself to sleep most nights amidst Babbitty Rabbitty and the Tale of the Three Brothers, wishing I lived in a different world, and awoke to a swollen face and red eyes staring back at me in the looking glass the next morning. Eventually, my body seemed to run out of tears and I stopped crying altogether. Some nights my grandmother would come into my room, tuck me in like I was a child again and sing me to sleep with lullabies from her own childhood.
All the while, Nathaniel had locked himself in his room and would not come out no matter how much I pounded on his door and begged. He would take his breakfast and supper in his room from trays left outside his door by my grandmother. I'm sure he would leave to use the restroom as well but I had never seen him so I assumed he did so in the middle of the night while we were sleeping.
I had started to think him heartless and complained to my grandma to stop indulging his selfishness with her catered room service. During hardship, he had always been a faithful unchanging rock, and this was the first time he hadn't been there for me when I needed him. But there was a night when I had awoken to sounds outside my window. Looking out I saw Nate sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling; a bottle of Grandfather's firewhiskey in hand with tears and phlegm streaming down his face. After that, I stopped complaining; he was hurting just as much as I was but in his own way.
Confined to our household, I started counting down the days until James returned. During our summers, he, Nate and I had always been peas in a pod, inseparable. Due to home-schooling, I had very little contact with other magical folk my age besides Basil Vanity and the other home schooled children. Therefore I had always harbored a small crush on James, thinking of his messy black hair and hazel eyes whenever Valentine's Day or Christmas would come around.
My brother had advised me it was futile though. Apparently last year James had owled him for advice about some red-head tart at Hogwarts that hadn't acknowledged his existence. As a concerned fourteen-year-old teenage girl, fearful that I would never date or get married, I had begged my father to let me go to Hogwarts.
Nonetheless, we remained under the home school rule of Ms. Matilda and I had sulked an entire season before I came to terms with the fact that James and I weren't meant to be together despite all the times I had practiced writing my signature as 'Claire Potter' in my diary. But now, all of those thoughts seemed petty in comparison to the looming reality that Nathaniel and I had indeed become orphans.
The day finally came when Mr. and Mrs. Potter's ministry car puttered into their driveway, a perk that Mr. Potter received from his years at the Ministry. As they unloaded the trunks and owl cages from the car, I came out to greet them, excited to see a familiar face. I had tried to get Nate to come out as well, but he had not budged. As I peered closely, I realized there was a face that I didn't recognize that had come out of the car as well, helping with the luggage.
It was a boy, approximately the same age as James or my brother, with long sweeping black hair that fell into dark-colored eyes. He was tall; taller than James but perhaps not as tall as Nate, with a lanky build courtesy of his long legs and broad shoulders. I hadn't realized I was staring until those dark eyes flickered upward and looked directly at me.
I looked away immediately. Suddenly I became extremely self-conscious of the fact that I was standing barefoot on the grassy lawn, wearing an ill-fitted jogging suit with my hair pulled back in an unflattering ponytail. I didn't have any make up or my contacts on, and I felt my glasses slip down my nose. I had figured sweat pants would be fine for helping the Potter's carry their luggage in, especially since I didn't want James to think I had gotten dressed up for him, but I hadn't expected a handsome stranger to be present as well. But it was already too late to go back inside. Mrs. Potter had seen me and gave me a great hug.
"Oh, Clair, how have you been? Is your brother quite alright?"
"We're getting along best as we can ma'am," I replied, "Can I help you lot with your bags?"
"Oh, I believe we'll be quite alright but thank you so much for your offer. I would love to have you and Nathaniel over for tea tomorrow though. You see James' friend from Hogwarts will be staying here with us from now on during the holidays and I think it would do him good to get to know the other young folk in this area. I hope you can all be fast friends."
"Of course, we'd be more than happy to come by!" I said, hoping that James' presence could coax Nate out of his room the next day.
"Ahem!" said James loudly, with a wave. I excused myself from Mrs. Potter, and ran over to James before giving him a tight hug. When we separated he grabbed me into a head lock and mussed my hair out of its ponytail.
"My glasses are falling!" I exclaimed with a laugh, battering the parts of him I could reach until he let go.
"Clair Ward! How have you been?"
"James Potter! Still in one piece I see!"
"I saw the accident in the Prophet," he said quietly, "I'm really sorry."
Thoughts of the plane crash, and the headlines of the daily prophet flashed in my mind's eye. I felt my face fall unintentionally, which James caught and immediately backpedaled.
"It's okay," I said forcing a grin. I didn't want to make him or his friend feel uncomfortable. "I'm so happy to see you! It's been so long. Who is this?"
"Sirius Black," the boy with long hair said, holding his hand out, "at your service. Prongs, you never told me you had such a pretty girl-next-door. Should Evans be worried?"
Laughing, and grateful for a reason to change the subject, I shook his hand, "I don't think anyone has anything to be worried about, but thank you!"
The Black boy's eyes twinkled as he gave a flirtatious wink. It was silly, and in the past I would have beat up boys like him for mucking around, but I had become so tired of being sad that I welcomed the change in pace and just shook my head in amusement.
James rolled his eyes at Sirius' antics, "We've got to get our things sorted, but I'll see you at tea tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
As they took their last items into the house, I realized that had been the first time I had laughed since the plane crash. I watched as Black's head with his long shaggy hair disappeared into the house, and felt a curiosity bloom inside of me. That night, I found myself wondering why he was staying with the Potters, where he originally came from, how the two knew each other, and what 'Prongs' meant.
I lay awake in my frilly pink covers wearing the matching frilly pink night gown thinking about what to wear. It had been the first time that my thoughts before bed had strayed from thinking about how my parents must have felt right before they died. There were so many questions, but I let them go as I drifted into the soft falling sensation and darkness of sleep.
The next day I awoke much earlier than usual. Since the plane crash, I had been sleeping in until past noon, bitter towards the sun that got to rise every morning when people were doomed to one day never rise again. I had felt more comfortable reading late into the night with the serene and steady moon as my companion, under candlelight under the covers of my bed.
I took a shower, brushed and dried my hair, and put in my contact lenses. Opening my wardrobe, I found my hand hovering over a sundress that my mother had bought for me the year before that I had never worn because I had deemed it 'too girly' back then, being self-conscious about my pale, 'chicken-legs' (according to Basil Vanity) that I usually hid under ill-fitted slacks or denim. I took a deep breath and put it on.
The white linen dress had wide straps, and was fitted in the bodice before flaring slightly into a modest pleated A-line. The waist was cinched with a bow in the back. I arranged my hair in a neat plait to the side, and tried on the straw sunhat that went with the dress. I looked like my mother. I set the hat down on my vanity, and willed for my tears to stop rolling down my face, when I heard a knocking at my door.
The knock was unfamiliar to me. I stood and approached the door cautiously, quickly brushing away my tears with the back of my hand.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"It's James, can I come in?"
"Just a moment!"
I quickly glanced around my room. It was covered in dirty laundry, and a few undergarments strewn here and there. Since the accident, I hadn't had the energy to keep my space clean and there were no house-elves at our Godric's Hollow residence. Frantically, I bulldozed through the room tossing all the unsightly items into my wardrobe, before making the bed and straightening my vanity. I took a look in the mirror, and my hair had become disheveled, but there was no time to fix it. I flung open the door, trying not to breath hard from exertion, and James sauntered in with Black at his heels.
"Nice choice of decoration," said Black.
I flushed. I hadn't thought about the fact that my grandmother had decorated my room to match the frilly pink blankets and canopy set she had purchased for 'her little princess' all those years ago.
"Kitten portraits, definitely a good touch," snickered James.
"Come off it James, you know my grandma put a sticking charm on them!" I exclaimed.
"Well, it seems like you're finally catching up to them," he said eyeing what I was wearing, "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you wear a dress."
"Must be because I'm here, I do have that effect," grinned Black.
The room felt hot, and I crossed my arms.
"Is there a particular reason you boys have decided to grace me with your presence so early in the morning?"
"Just wanted to see how you're going. Besides, haven't seen Nate yet," James said on a more somber note, "Is he doing alright?"
I frowned, forgetting my momentary embarrassment, and sat down on the edge of my bed.
"I don't know, he's been taking it pretty hard," I said in a softer tone, not wanting my voice to carry through the wall my brother and I shared, "He hasn't left his room in weeks."
"I figured, he stopped replying to my owls around that time too," reasoned James, "You know, maybe he just needs a good laugh. Something to change the pace… I've got it! How about a game of quidditch? I'll bet he hasn't been on a broom in ages, much less played against anyone. And with Sirius here, we can play two on two."
"That's brilliant!" I exclaimed, "Potter, you're a genius."
Nate loved quidditch, but living in the city didn't allow for many opportunities for sport. The only times we got to really ride our brooms was if we went to watch the World Cup or during summers at the Hollow. I ran over to his room and knocked on the door. There was no reply. I knocked again.
"Nate! James is here and he wants to say hi!"
No response.
"His friend is here too, Sirius Black."
Again, no response.
"Mrs. Potter invited us over for tea, and we're about to go play quidditch until it's ready. It'd be great if you can join us to even out the teams."
Still silence.
I turned away with a sigh, but as I walked back to my room I heard footsteps and the door creak open.
"Give me five minutes," Nate said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly before closing the door again.
I heard the sound of the shower running, and I came back into my room with the biggest grin.
"He's coming!"
"Excellent!" smiled James, "Let's go get our brooms," he said to Sirius.
"I'll meet you two down in a bit, I should probably change out of this thing before flying," I said, motioning to the dress I was wearing.
As they walked out the door, Sirius turned back.
"Pity," he said, "You're quite the picture."
I turned around quickly, hoping he didn't see me flush.
The weather was warm and dry. The sky was blue overheard but there was a wind picking up and dark clouds loomed in the horizon. It was storm weather, but regardless, Nate and I broke the brooms out of the broom shed, and dusted them off with glee before joining the other two boys in the makeshift quidditch field James had set up in his back yard.
It had been a year since I had flown. As a child, I loved the thrill of the wind in my face and the feeling of complete freedom racing against my brother into the clouds. But now, looking down from where I was seated, I had almost forgotten how high up the brooms could go. I told myself not to look down, and was glad I brought my wand with me just in case there were any accidents. A benefit of home-schooling was we were permitted wand-usage year round.
"Two on two! Sirius and I against you and Nate!" James shouted from across the field.
"You two are going down!" I shouted back with a grin.
"Not a chance Ward!"
In the warm summer air, we zoomed back and forth, cutting through the haze like machetes in the jungles of South America. I dodged a bludger, passed the quaffle to Nate who corkscrewed before throwing the quaffle past James into the left hoop. I whooped with excitement, before taking hold of the quaffle again. With the large red ball under my arm, I ducked under Black when he flipped over in midair, and grabbed the quaffle from me. Stunned, I flipped around to steal it back, but he had already raced to the other end and threw it past Nate into the goal. As the other team cheered, I saw Mrs. Potter come out of the back door and call us down for tea.
As we touched down, we were all sweating from our exertion. I couldn't help but notice how handsome James looked as he ruffled his black hair and re-adjusted his round glasses.
"You should've seen the look on your face when Black snatched the quaffle from you!" Nate laughed.
Usually I would have punched him in the gut, but I was just happy to see him wearing something other than a scowl on his face.
"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, self-consciously.
"No," I said shaking my head before tackling him with a bear hug around the middle. "Just happy that you're my brother."
The other boys snickered at the display of affection, but I didn't care.
Nate turned red, "Oh shush, you're embarrassing me!" he said shoving me off, but I could swear I saw him smile as he looked away.
We sat down to the outdoor tea that Mrs. Potter had prepared. She had prepared the whole nine yards with cucumber and smoked salmon sandwiches, an assortment of small cakes, and scones with clotted cream and lemon curd. Her white summer china, painted with daisies and rimmed with gold glimmered in the lazy afternoon heat that cast shimmering shadows on the sidewalk pavement.
The boys guzzled down the food and tea. I had to stop myself from doing the same, the voice of Ms. Matilda scolding me to sit up straight and not clink my spoon on the side of the cup echoed in my mind. It was awfully unfair, I thought, that boys and girls were held to separate standards.
As I restrained myself from shoving the entire cucumber sandwich into my mouth, I noticed a dark cloud in the distance. The air suddenly changed and the wind began to pick up.
"Mrs. Potter, what's that?" I asked.
The dark cloud was advancing much too quickly to be natural. Lightning branched out from the dark center, and the sound of thunder claps vibrated the air.
"Death Eaters.." James breathed.
"Children, get inside!" Mrs. Potter shouted, "James, get everyone into the cellar! Now!"
Instantly, James sprang up and ran to the house. Black, Nate and I followed tightly behind, doing our best to not be knocked over by the hurricane-like winds that now whipped through the air. The table holding the tea and cakes fell to the ground, the tinkling sound of porcelain crashing onto the floor told us that Mrs. Potter's summer china was no more. The yellow umbrella we had been sitting under flew up into the air in spirals as the swirling dark mass moved on top of us.
I looked back and saw the eye of the storm pass the Potter's and settle on our house next door.
"Grandma's still in there!" I shouted, tearing away from my brother's grasp as I tore across the grass as fast as my trainers could carry me.
"Clair, no!" shouted Nate, chasing after me into the wind.
The door to our house was torn off the hinges. I stepped inside cautiously. The interior looked ransacked, all shelves and drawers ripped out and upended.
I tried to take my wand out of my pocket, but I missed and dropped it instead; my hands were shaking. The wand clattered to the floor. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, when I heard the sound of a blast and maniacal high-pitched laughter coming from the second floor.
I froze. I was afraid.
I was only fifteen, what could I really do against a trained Death Eater who had probably murdered dozens of other witches and wizards?
I bit my lip, and picked up my wand. When I felt the warmth of the phoenix-core in my palm again, it seemed to comfort me and my mind cleared.
I took a step forward.
Just as I was about to race up the steps, I heard yelling and screaming when suddenly a flash of green light rippled through the air.
And then, there was silence.
The winds stopped. the dark clouds disappeared.
Then I heard a cackling laughter, the laugh of a woman. There was an explosion and the sound of a spell being cast.
The sound of rain beginning its descent pattered against the roof as I went up the stairwell, cautiously at first and then with the fury of a summer storm.
My world swayed, but my legs still managed to carry me onto the landing. The door of the master bedroom had been blasted into smithereens. There was a hole in the roof and the eerie green glow of the Dark Mark hung above. Splinters of painted wood were scattered all around the polished floor.
I walked through the doorframe. I could hear my heart beating in my chest. All was still in the room, with the exception of an antique cuckoo clock ticking gently behind me. I approached the bed, and pulled aside the white lace canopy, where I saw my grandmother laying in her bed with her eyes open as if she had just woken.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a desperate, heart-wrenching scream before I realized it was coming from myself.
The rest of the summer passed in a blur.
The funeral had been a somber one. The summer weather was bright and friendly, deeply contrasting the darkness in my heart and mind. It was held in the graveyard behind the little church in Godric's Hollow. Three fresh tombstones lay in the Clearwater lot, two empty for the bodies had been lost at sea. Only my grandmother's was open-casket. She looked so serene laying there, as if she were merely asleep.
Although we had many cousins, we had been warned against having a large funeral in fear that it would become the target for another attack. With two cases against the Ward family, it seemed that we had somehow found ourselves at the top of the Death Eater's list of undesirables. Therefore, it had only been Nathaniel and I, as well as the Potters and Sirius Black who attended that day under the hot summer sun.
Two Aurors had gathered Nate and I to explain what had happened. Apparently shortly before my parent's deaths, amidst the rising death toll, the British Minister for Magic had met with my father to ask for aid from MACUSA in their war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was for this purpose that he had flown back to America when his airplane was struck down. The Aurors weren't sure why the Death Eaters had targeted my grandmother's house next since she was a pureblood and much too old to be involved in the war, but could only assume that had Nate and I not been at the Potter's for tea, that we would not be sitting there with them.
To add insult to injury, a week after the funeral, we had further bad news that the London Embassy had also been attacked and set on fire. Thankfully it had been empty save for the house-elves who were unharmed. We were told it was difficult to tell if anything had been taken due to the fire afterwards. However, boxes of what little could be salvaged from the burnt remains of the building had been boxed and sent to us in Godric's Hollow.
I couldn't bring myself to open the boxes, or step back into our grandmother's house. It had become a haunted place for me. I couldn't sleep I couldn't eat under the same roof where she had died. I would try to remember the sound of my grandmother's voice singing me to sleep, but all I could see was the flash of green light when I closed my eyes, and the sound of the woman's laughter ringing in my ears.
I replayed the scene in my mind a million times over, searching my memories to find some way for it all to make sense to me. Why had they come to our grandmother's house? Why had they gone to the Embassy when it had been empty? I figured they must have been searching for something, perhaps political papers, a contract, photos, or an address book perhaps, but I had nothing to affirm by thoughts by.
There had been conversation about moving back to Wardville in America due to the war in England where we were told it'd be safe, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving, not when there were still so many questions left unanswered. The issue lay in the fact that none of our blood relations had volunteered to take us in. It seemed that no one wanted to risk bringing the wrath of You-Know-Who upon their own family by taking in the children of a family that seemed cursed with a trail of destruction following their every footstep.
Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Potter had graciously allowed for Nathaniel and I to move into their house for the time being. Sirius and James shared a room, while I slept in the guest room and my brother on the couch. I tried my best to be helpful around the house, but Mrs. Potter would often take the dishes or broom out of my hands and send me upstairs to rest.
I lost interest in socializing despite how many times James would come knocking on my door, and spent most days in bed sleeping or reading. Most mornings I couldn't remember what day it was anymore.
Meanwhile, there were many meetings with bankers at Gringotts who informed us of the two sizable inheritances that had been left to us upon our parents and grandmothers passing. Nathaniel, wearing father's old suit, handled most of these matters as best as he could, and would come home looking much older than he was. But being one year below age meant that there were things we still could not manage until he turned seventeen including living on our own.
We had many visitors those days. Up until then, I had only heard of Albus Dumbledore through the Chocolate Frog cards I'd collected, newspaper articles, and textbook excerpts I'd read about him. I never imagined for him to show up on the Potter's doorstep late one evening, asking if he could come in for a cup of tea with Nate and I.
Sitting around the scrubbed wooden table with Mrs. Potter serving us tea, I couldn't help but feel nervous as I looked at his long pale fingers, his silvery beard or his bright cornflower blue eyes sparkling as they observed my brother and I. He was taller than Nate and wore long shimmering robes that looked very expensive.
"Children, this is Professor Dumbledore," said Mrs. Potter after she had shooed James and Black upstairs to their room. "Albus, this is Nathaniel and Clair Ward, Leonidas and Ann's children."
"Greetings," he said with a kindly smile, "I suppose it is contrived for me to start by offering my condolences, but I hope you can take them in stride for they are genuine."
"Thank you," said Nate, politely.
I said nothing. I wanted to go back to bed. It's not that I bore him any ill will, but I preferred not to have to talk to another of our father's old friends. I never knew what to say. It wasn't like we really knew any of them or they us, so the conversations often became trite and repetitive with the same usual sympathies in minutes.
"I know the hour is late, and some of us would probably like nothing better than to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea," he said looking at me with a twinkle in his eye, "so forgive me for being direct."
I sat up straighter, and flushed a deep warm crimson. It was as if he had read my mind. I didn't like feeling so transparent.
"It is unfortunate that those as young as yourselves have found yourselves in the care of the state. I have heard through a grapevine of sources that it is the popular notion for the two of you to be sent to live with your paternal relations across the Atlantic."
I scowled.
"And yet, I have also heard that you would much rather prefer staying in the United Kingdom. Is this true?"
"Yes sir," Nathaniel replied. I looked up in brooding speculation and curiosity, but nodded in agreement all the same.
"I have also heard that you have faced much opposition to this decision from many of the adults you have spoken with at the Ministry."
I looked at Nate quizzically. His eyes remained downcast as he nodded.
"As you may know, I am the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your mother was one of my pupils many years ago, an extremely bright and clever witch who excelled in her studies. I had found myself curious if the two of you would like to follow in her footsteps and finish your schooling at Hogwarts?"
I was speechless. A year ago I would have been ecstatic for the chance to attend, surrounded by wizards and witches my own age, wearing a school uniform, exploring the castle, and living in the dormitories. But now, I felt hollow. I had expected myself to feel a spark of excitement upon the invitation, for I definitely felt surprise, but all I could think about was my aching head and how heavy my body had become.
I frowned, and looked down. I knew I was being impolite, when such an impressive guest was standing before me. Growing up in an embassy I often found myself jaded to accolades which could come off as arrogance, but I simply wanted to be by myself in that moment.
Nate nudged me, and I looked up to see him give me the look that said I needed to behave. I took a deep breath, and did my best to put on a polite expression of interest.
"It seems that you two may be in want of some time to think this over. I simply mean to offer an education at Hogwarts as an option, not a requirement. I do think you would find your time there to be enlightening and full of surprises great and small. If you discover that you are willing, I have prepared acceptance letters and a list of supplies for you two to enter your sixth year together," he said handing both of us thick envelopes made of yellowed parchment, with our names written in looping cursive on the front and sealed with red wax.
"And lastly, before I go, please do consider the offer. I have found over my considerable amount of years, it is not in the interest of the living to dwell on the past," Dumbledore said looking both of us in the eye, "Good evening."
That night, I lay in bed pouring over my acceptance letter. I felt the parchment between my fingers willing myself to feel something joy or excitement, but all that bubbled to the surface was hot, searing anger and shame. The memory of my hesitation at the foot of the stairs flashed through my mind once more, the same way it had a thousand times before every night since the incident.
If only I hadn't hesitated. If only I had been braver. If only I hadn't been so selfish, thinking of my own skin, while my grandmother was left defenseless in her bed. I could've done something, I thought to myself.
I stood up, feeling disgusted with myself; I wanted to scratch the skin off my arms, to jump off the roof, to burn my hair off– something to punish myself for my cowardice. I picked up my single blade razor from the vanity, and stared at it in my hand.
Suddenly I heard a knocking on the glass of the window.
Confused, I put down the razor; I figured it was an owl and opened the curtains. But to my surprise it was no owl, but Sirius Black crouched on the roof outside.
I opened the window and as he crawled in, I poked my head out and realized he must have walked the extremely narrow ledge connecting the landing in front of James' window and my own. Confused how he had made it without using his wand, I turned to him out of curiosity.
"How did you get out here?" I asked, completely befuddled, "Did you escape from Barnum and Bailey's as a child? Or were you a contortionist in a past life?"
"What's Barnum and Bailey's?" he asked confused, before shaking his head, "Never mind, are you going to do it?"
"Do what?" I asked.
"Come to Hogwarts of course!"
I stared at him hard.
"It's none of your business," I said coldly. "I'm tired, please leave."
I walked to the window, and opened it once more. The warm breeze from the summer night wafted in. I folded my arms, waiting for him to go.
"It's awfully nice outside," he said as he walked to the window, and looked over his shoulder. "Would you like to join me? I've got Dragon Barrel Brandy."
"I have no intention of falling off a roof tonight."
"You won't fall, there's a little nook that James and I found during Christmas holiday. Great view. Plus, the Perseids meteor shower is tonight," he replied with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I was hoping to have someone to watch it with."
"Ask James," I replied.
He sighed dramatically.
"Suit yourself," he said nonchalantly before slipping out the window.
A moment passed. I was alone in my dark room once more.
I looked at the razor blade sitting on the vanity, and I shuddered. Perhaps I couldn't be trusted to be by myself at that moment, I thought.
I threw open the window for the third time that night and poked my head out.
"Wait!" I whispered as loud as I could, "I'm coming with you!"
In the darkness I could only see a large dark shadow, the shape seemed to shift slightly but as it came back into the light, I saw Black holding a hand out to help me down. I realized that the nightgown I was wearing was hardly suitable for climbing roofs but it was too late to change.
I took his hand and stepped out onto the landing, the roof tiles cold and rough under my bare feet.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
"Not at all, but that's what makes it fun don't you think? Unless… you're scared?" he replied, with a devil-may-care grin.
I huffed, "Lead the way," I retorted hotly.
"Shh, we don't want to wake up Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he said with a finger to my lips.
I blushed, and batted his hand away, "That brandy better be good," I said, aware of how spoilt I sounded, but I didn't care at that moment.
Smiling he beckoned for me to follow him off the side of the ledge, up a drain pipe, before we reached the peak of the house where a small flat landing existed roughly four by four meters in diameter, fenced by slightly higher tiles next to the dual chimney. Various radio antennae protruded from the corner of the spot.
We sat and he opened the brandy with a flourish, before we took turns taking long swigs from the bottle. The brandy burned my throat and brought my eyes to a water as I drank it down until the bottle was half-empty.
I could hear Ms. Matilda's voice scolding me for being barefoot on a rooftop with a boy I barely knew, drinking brandy from the bottle, dressed in my thin nightgown. It wasn't that I had stopped caring, but rather, it made me glad to do something daring, something I had been scared to do before. In fact, I realized that I never wanted to feel scared ever again.
I looked down off the ledge and the three story drop, and threw a small stone off the edge from where we sat. It clattered softly as it bounced between roofing tiles until it hit the floor. I felt butterflies dance in my stomach thinking about what it would feel like if I were that stone hitting the floor, when Black suddenly grabbed my wrist; his face looked alarmed.
I hadn't realized but I had slowly started leaning more and more over the edge. He must have thought I was going to jump.
"You feeling alright?" he asked taking the bottle for a sip.
My face felt warm from the alcohol. "Peachy keen."
I forced smile as I let the feeling of the brandy wash over me. I felt more relaxed than I had in days. I could barely remember why I was so upset.
The air around us was cool, but next to me was a soft, warm boy who thought I was pretty.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. I could feel his surprise, but he didn't pull away. I figured he was probably used to these types of things, but I didn't care.
"Why did you come to my room tonight?" I asked, "Were you looking to snog?"
He seemed surprised by my candid question, and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, if I came off that way," he replied. "I guess I just wanted to know if you were coming to Hogwarts or not in September. James and I overheard."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know if I believe you or not," I replied. "But humor me, why do you want to know?"
"I guess, I want to get to know you more," he replied, his face looked as if he himself was puzzled, "I find you curious."
"Curious? Are you sure you don't just pity me?" I asked, feeling the alcohol loosening my tongue, "Beware the cursed Ward children!" I exclaimed into the air, "Parents dead, grandparents dead, unwanted by all." I laughed bitterly, at my own expense, before grabbing the bottle back from him and taking another swig. "Not to mention, a coward."
"Coward?" Black asked, surprised, "That's probably the last thing I would have thought. I don't think I've ever seen anyone run as fast as you did going back into your grandmother's house that day. I think that was the bravest thing I've seen anyone do."
I was silent, and shook my head. "No… it wasn't brave," I replied, replaying the scene in my mind once more. "I hesitated. I was scared. I heard my grandmother screaming, and I just stood there, frozen."
I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. My private thoughts that I hadn't shared with anyone, not even Nate, were pouring out of my lips, and tears were streaming from my eyes along with them.
"I was so scared, I couldn't even pick up my wand," I continued, holding up my hands and staring at my palms shaking. "I had been getting so much better after recovering from Mum and Dad's incident; I was able to be brave for Nate. But now, I'm just falling apart, and I don't know why I can't just get over it."
I began to sob. Tears and phlegm ran down my face in rivers. After a few minutes, I came back to my senses, and immediately felt embarrassed but I was still under the influence of the brandy.
I sniffed, and tried to wipe my face using the edge of my nightgown. Black took off his sweater and passed it to me.
"Here, use this."
I took it and blew my nose loudly into the sleeve.
"I'm sorry, I swear I'll wash this and give it back to you."
"It's alright, just keep it," he said with a chuckle.
"You know, you're a really good listener," I said after wiping my face.
I turned to tease him like I would my brother, but as I looked up I saw in the moonlight the edges of his face were softly illuminated. It flattered his aristocratic brow and highlighted his high cheekbones and cast a shadow along his sharp jawline.
Curious, I reached up and traced its outline with my thumb from his chin to his cheek, tucking his long blacks locks behind his ear. His eyebrow raised as his eyes looked intently into mine, reflecting the starlight in their dark depths.
I could hear his heart beating over the sound of cicadas and dogs barking in the distance. I felt him put his hand over mine, intertwining our fingers.
I felt hot and drowsy, all inhibitions suppressed, when suddenly my stomach lurched.
I turned away as quickly as I could and made it to the ledge just in time to regurgitate the entire contents of my stomach onto the ground below with a sickening splash. I thought it had stopped when a second wave of nausea came over me and I threw up again.
Exhausted, I slumped down and passed out on the floor just as I saw a star hurtle across the sky in a green blur.