She wakes to darkness. Listening closely, she tries to find out what
woke her. There's nothing; only the ticking of the clock and her own
breathing in the silence of her room. She squints her eyes toward the
clock.
Quarter to two. Her parents surely wouldn't be home this early?
Sinking back into the pillows, she hears it. Soft noises that seem to come from downstairs. Instinctively she reaches for her wand on the bedside table and
nearly knocks over the glass of water placed there before climbing into bed. Another noise, louder this time, like someone has run into a piece of furniture. Mom's coffee table, she thinks immediately, her stomach knotting. She crawls out from under her blanket, wincing as the cold air hits the sleep-warm skin on her neck and forearms. Grasping the wand so tightly her knuckles stand white, she creeps towards the door. Fortunately it opens without the cracking and screeching normally uttered when moved.
She tiptoes like a little girl along the hallway and slowly down the stairs. As her naked feet make soft noises on the wood, she thinks, too late, that she should have put on socks. Her heart is beating so rapidly in her chest, she's surprised that whoever is downstairs doesn't seem to hear it. As she steps on the tiles of the downstairs hallway, she suppresses a gasp, for they are icy cold against her naked feet. She takes a deep breath and looks around the corner. Light is coming from the living room, but not from any lamp there. It's blue, like the glow of a television, but unmoving. She walks along the wall, the soft rustling of her trouser-legs touching each other uncomfortably loud in her ears.
Now she only had to stretch her arm around the doorframe; she doesn't. Coward, she thinks, gritting her teeth. She's twenty-one, for Heaven's Sake. She should be able to deal with an intruder in the living room, especially with her wand in hand. That reminder, and the smooth wood against her palm, help ease the tension a bit.
She flinches when glass suddenly shatters, followed by a soft "Ouch!" The last remnants of fear that the person she's about to confront is Voldemort, or a Death Eater, fade. They being definitely too hardened to
fall over Amy Jones' coffee table or break decoration. Against evil itself invading her house, the thought of a mere thief is almost welcome, and her heartbeat returns to normal. Now or never, she thinks and firmly pushes her herself off the wall. "Expelliarmus," she shouts, stepping into the doorway, swiftly catching the wand that comes flying towards her. Seeing who she just disarmed, however, she nearly drops it.
Standing in the middle of the living room, bent over a pile of fragments, is Albus Dumbledore, looking at her in surprise.
"Oh," she says weakly. She notices she's staring and quickly averts her gaze. "Your- your wand," she offers, handing it to him and then adds: "I'm sorry."
"There is no reason for you to be, Becky" Dumbledore says. He smiles, but it looks tiredly at her. "Congratulations on your excellent handling of Expelliarmus."
"I - thank you." Becky feels as if back in school. Clearing her throat she asks: "Can I help you?" Politely put, considering her former headmaster gave her quite a fright by popping up in the middle of the night unannounced, she thinks wryly. Offering a chair to him, she sits down herself. He seats slowly, then looks at her. As their gazes connect, the knot in her stomach returns. Something is different about him. She can't tell what exactly, but different for the worse. Something isn't right and it makes her feel nauseated.
Lily and James, she thinks suddenly and a cold wave of fear rushes through her. Why else would Dumbledore be here? Lily, being Amy's niece, is the only reason Dumbledore and her family maintain contact. It makes sense.
No, it makes no sense at all, Becky tells herself firmly. It can't be Lily and James- that would mean Sirius had broken the secret, which is absurd. She knows Sirius, not so close, but well enough. She meets him on occasion, and had a date with him once. Although that turned out to be a disaster, for he ended up kissing Remus instead. Sirius loves Remus as well as Lily, James, and their son Harry. He would never betray them, betray their trust in him. Still, the sick feeling stays and she grips the armrests tightly, her nails digging into the cushions.
Dumbledore's voice is strangely flat as he says: "Apparently your parents are not home."
"No," she replies quickly, trying to cover the anxiety she feels and failing miserably. "They are at a party." As an afterthought, she adds: "Should I call them?" Dumbledore pauses, "That would be kind of you."
She quickly rises, leaving him in the living room. Walking into the kitchen, she picks up the phone which was left there earlier this evening. Seraphine's phone number still glow on the display, but are quickly replaced with the number her parents' host by fingers surprisingly steady. She waits for their answer, nervously pacing back and forth. Finally, a soft crack and a woman's voice asks with whom she is speaking. "Rebecca Jones. Good evening, Mrs. Tyler." She manages with only the slightest tremor in her voice. Mrs. Tyler asks cheerfully. "Rebecca, hello! Should I go and fetch your mother or father, I suppose?"
"That would be kind of you," Becky replies, mimicking what Dumbledore has just said.
"Sure, dear, just wait one moment!" Mrs. Tyler disappears, leaving Becky standing in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the distant music and laughter coming through the receiver. She suddenly wishes she were among those people, celebrating Halloween with pumpkins and children at the door, shouting: "Trick or Treat!" The next moment her mother picks up the phone, sounding breathless. "Becky,
darling? Did something happen?"
"Dumbledore is here," Becky says softly. "He asked me to call you."
It takes her mother a while to answer and when she does, her tone is anxious. "Did he tell you what happened?" Becky shrugs, then it occurs to her that her mother can't see that. Angry at herself for acting like an imbecile, she tells Amy: "I haven't asked him yet and I think he wants to wait until you are here."
"We'll be over in a minute," her mother promises, her high spirits apparently gone. Becky hangs up, feeling sorry for ruining her parents' evening and being mad at their whole situation. As if all three of them hadn't had enough sorrow up to today! She walks back to the living room, all the while silently cursing Voldemort, Death Eaters, and the bloody war in general. However, her anger subsides quicker than it had come at the sight of Dumbledore. With his shoulders hunched and looking so much the weary old man he must be, Becky has to choke back tears. She informs him of her conversation, and then sits in a silence which remains until they hear the front door opening. Amy walks in, her heels clicking on the floor. "Albus," she greets their visitor diffidently. Dumbledore rises to his feet, bowing his head slightly. "Amy."
As her husband walks up behind her, he adds: "Robert."
Robert and Amy return the nod, then Amy walks up to, and sits down on, the armchair Becky is occupying. "How'd you get here?" she asks. Before Dumbledore has a chance to answer, she laughs nervously. "I hope you didn't have to climb through a window, since Becky seems to have turned the bell off."
Dumbledore gives a polite smile. "No, I was able to Apparate. Although I am sure that I scared your daughter quite a bit." He takes a deep breath. "Unfortunately, I have bad news."
Becky casts a quick glance at her parents. Robert's face looks set in stone and Amy stares at Dumbledore, her eyes as wide as those of a deer caught in headlights. Becky isn't sure of her own expression. The only thing she feels right now is the lump of ice in her stomach that is growing
bigger with every passing second. She looks up at Dumbledore and he holds her gaze, a deep sadness in his eyes, and he finally says: "I am very sorry to tell you, but Lily and James are dead."
That's it. It's out. Becky closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. It's still the same living room, it's still Dumbledore
standing there, tall, dignified, and sad. Her vision isn't blurred by tears. She should be in despair, she realizes. Break down crying like her mother, who is instantly embraced by Robert and handed a handkerchief by Dumbledore. Or
faint. Feel shell-shocked. Feel anything like grief at all. The pain is there, lurking at the edge of her conscience, raw and painful and overwhelming. But right now, it's not breaking through. Right now she is angry.
No, she is more than angry, she is shaking with rage. Not seeing the living room any longer, but images of Lily, James, and Harry. Harry. She is dimly aware that Dumbledore didn't include his name when he spoke of his parents being dead, but it's too early for her to care about that. Another picture now fills her mind, so clear and vivid she almost reaches out for it. Sirius is standing there, holding James' and Lily's hands in his own. He is looking pale but determined and when he speaks, his voice is steady. "I swear to protect your secret with my life."
LIAR.
Rage flashes through her in a wave so hot it's almost physically painful, and something blindingly white explodes in front of her eyes. There is an ear-splitting bang and a shattering of glass. Then silence.
Becky looks up in confusion to find Dumbledore and her parents staring at her. She swallows, only just noticing her breath is coming in ragged pants. Cool air touches her skin and when she looks over to the window -
"Dear God," Amy says weakly and clutches the handkerchief to her mouth. Robert lets go of his wife and slowly walks towards the window. Or rather, what's left of it. Glass is scattered all over the floor and charred remnants of the once-white window-frame cling to a hole in wall.
Becky catches Dumbledore's gaze. She nearly falls out of her chair when she
suddenly hears his voice in her head. //Before you ask, yes, that was you.//
She tries to answer in the same way and knows she succeeded, as Dumbledore's lips curve in a subdued but honest smile.
*How? How could I do it?*
//It's a gift. A gift that was given to your family long ago. Since then it has been passed on, always with the death of the former heir.//
*You mean that - that it came from Lily?*
She sees Dumbledore nod solemnly and feels it in her mind. //She passed it to you.//
*I don't want it!* She has to concentrate so as to not shout it aloud. *It is what killed Lily in the end, am I right?*
//It is -//
*Am I right?*
She both sees and feels the sigh. //Yes. Voldemort killed her because she possessed a power so great it meant danger to him.//
*I don't want it. Take it back!* She sounds like a child but she doesn't care. Everything inside her revolts against what is now her supposed 'gift'.
//It's too late. It's your destiny.//
*What? To die like Lily?* She suddenly can't take it any longer and bolts out of the room, leaving her parents staring after her in confusion. Leaning against the wall outside and taking deep breaths, she tries to shut Dumbledore's voice out of her head, but to no avail.
//Lily died because the gift came to her in a time it meant danger to the one who possessed it. She used her power on Harry and therefore kept him alive.// It is obvious he is waiting for any kind of response, but Becky wills her mind to be silent. She hears Dumbledore sigh again. //You are right, this is certainly not the time for that. We can talk later. But please, remember: it came from Lily. She wanted you to have it.// With that, he was gone.
Becky finally submits to the weakness she feels and slides down to the floor, Dumbledore's last words repeating over and over in her head. //It came from
Lily...she wanted you to have it...from Lily...//
Lily, she thinks and starts to cry.
Sinking back into the pillows, she hears it. Soft noises that seem to come from downstairs. Instinctively she reaches for her wand on the bedside table and
nearly knocks over the glass of water placed there before climbing into bed. Another noise, louder this time, like someone has run into a piece of furniture. Mom's coffee table, she thinks immediately, her stomach knotting. She crawls out from under her blanket, wincing as the cold air hits the sleep-warm skin on her neck and forearms. Grasping the wand so tightly her knuckles stand white, she creeps towards the door. Fortunately it opens without the cracking and screeching normally uttered when moved.
She tiptoes like a little girl along the hallway and slowly down the stairs. As her naked feet make soft noises on the wood, she thinks, too late, that she should have put on socks. Her heart is beating so rapidly in her chest, she's surprised that whoever is downstairs doesn't seem to hear it. As she steps on the tiles of the downstairs hallway, she suppresses a gasp, for they are icy cold against her naked feet. She takes a deep breath and looks around the corner. Light is coming from the living room, but not from any lamp there. It's blue, like the glow of a television, but unmoving. She walks along the wall, the soft rustling of her trouser-legs touching each other uncomfortably loud in her ears.
Now she only had to stretch her arm around the doorframe; she doesn't. Coward, she thinks, gritting her teeth. She's twenty-one, for Heaven's Sake. She should be able to deal with an intruder in the living room, especially with her wand in hand. That reminder, and the smooth wood against her palm, help ease the tension a bit.
She flinches when glass suddenly shatters, followed by a soft "Ouch!" The last remnants of fear that the person she's about to confront is Voldemort, or a Death Eater, fade. They being definitely too hardened to
fall over Amy Jones' coffee table or break decoration. Against evil itself invading her house, the thought of a mere thief is almost welcome, and her heartbeat returns to normal. Now or never, she thinks and firmly pushes her herself off the wall. "Expelliarmus," she shouts, stepping into the doorway, swiftly catching the wand that comes flying towards her. Seeing who she just disarmed, however, she nearly drops it.
Standing in the middle of the living room, bent over a pile of fragments, is Albus Dumbledore, looking at her in surprise.
"Oh," she says weakly. She notices she's staring and quickly averts her gaze. "Your- your wand," she offers, handing it to him and then adds: "I'm sorry."
"There is no reason for you to be, Becky" Dumbledore says. He smiles, but it looks tiredly at her. "Congratulations on your excellent handling of Expelliarmus."
"I - thank you." Becky feels as if back in school. Clearing her throat she asks: "Can I help you?" Politely put, considering her former headmaster gave her quite a fright by popping up in the middle of the night unannounced, she thinks wryly. Offering a chair to him, she sits down herself. He seats slowly, then looks at her. As their gazes connect, the knot in her stomach returns. Something is different about him. She can't tell what exactly, but different for the worse. Something isn't right and it makes her feel nauseated.
Lily and James, she thinks suddenly and a cold wave of fear rushes through her. Why else would Dumbledore be here? Lily, being Amy's niece, is the only reason Dumbledore and her family maintain contact. It makes sense.
No, it makes no sense at all, Becky tells herself firmly. It can't be Lily and James- that would mean Sirius had broken the secret, which is absurd. She knows Sirius, not so close, but well enough. She meets him on occasion, and had a date with him once. Although that turned out to be a disaster, for he ended up kissing Remus instead. Sirius loves Remus as well as Lily, James, and their son Harry. He would never betray them, betray their trust in him. Still, the sick feeling stays and she grips the armrests tightly, her nails digging into the cushions.
Dumbledore's voice is strangely flat as he says: "Apparently your parents are not home."
"No," she replies quickly, trying to cover the anxiety she feels and failing miserably. "They are at a party." As an afterthought, she adds: "Should I call them?" Dumbledore pauses, "That would be kind of you."
She quickly rises, leaving him in the living room. Walking into the kitchen, she picks up the phone which was left there earlier this evening. Seraphine's phone number still glow on the display, but are quickly replaced with the number her parents' host by fingers surprisingly steady. She waits for their answer, nervously pacing back and forth. Finally, a soft crack and a woman's voice asks with whom she is speaking. "Rebecca Jones. Good evening, Mrs. Tyler." She manages with only the slightest tremor in her voice. Mrs. Tyler asks cheerfully. "Rebecca, hello! Should I go and fetch your mother or father, I suppose?"
"That would be kind of you," Becky replies, mimicking what Dumbledore has just said.
"Sure, dear, just wait one moment!" Mrs. Tyler disappears, leaving Becky standing in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the distant music and laughter coming through the receiver. She suddenly wishes she were among those people, celebrating Halloween with pumpkins and children at the door, shouting: "Trick or Treat!" The next moment her mother picks up the phone, sounding breathless. "Becky,
darling? Did something happen?"
"Dumbledore is here," Becky says softly. "He asked me to call you."
It takes her mother a while to answer and when she does, her tone is anxious. "Did he tell you what happened?" Becky shrugs, then it occurs to her that her mother can't see that. Angry at herself for acting like an imbecile, she tells Amy: "I haven't asked him yet and I think he wants to wait until you are here."
"We'll be over in a minute," her mother promises, her high spirits apparently gone. Becky hangs up, feeling sorry for ruining her parents' evening and being mad at their whole situation. As if all three of them hadn't had enough sorrow up to today! She walks back to the living room, all the while silently cursing Voldemort, Death Eaters, and the bloody war in general. However, her anger subsides quicker than it had come at the sight of Dumbledore. With his shoulders hunched and looking so much the weary old man he must be, Becky has to choke back tears. She informs him of her conversation, and then sits in a silence which remains until they hear the front door opening. Amy walks in, her heels clicking on the floor. "Albus," she greets their visitor diffidently. Dumbledore rises to his feet, bowing his head slightly. "Amy."
As her husband walks up behind her, he adds: "Robert."
Robert and Amy return the nod, then Amy walks up to, and sits down on, the armchair Becky is occupying. "How'd you get here?" she asks. Before Dumbledore has a chance to answer, she laughs nervously. "I hope you didn't have to climb through a window, since Becky seems to have turned the bell off."
Dumbledore gives a polite smile. "No, I was able to Apparate. Although I am sure that I scared your daughter quite a bit." He takes a deep breath. "Unfortunately, I have bad news."
Becky casts a quick glance at her parents. Robert's face looks set in stone and Amy stares at Dumbledore, her eyes as wide as those of a deer caught in headlights. Becky isn't sure of her own expression. The only thing she feels right now is the lump of ice in her stomach that is growing
bigger with every passing second. She looks up at Dumbledore and he holds her gaze, a deep sadness in his eyes, and he finally says: "I am very sorry to tell you, but Lily and James are dead."
That's it. It's out. Becky closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. It's still the same living room, it's still Dumbledore
standing there, tall, dignified, and sad. Her vision isn't blurred by tears. She should be in despair, she realizes. Break down crying like her mother, who is instantly embraced by Robert and handed a handkerchief by Dumbledore. Or
faint. Feel shell-shocked. Feel anything like grief at all. The pain is there, lurking at the edge of her conscience, raw and painful and overwhelming. But right now, it's not breaking through. Right now she is angry.
No, she is more than angry, she is shaking with rage. Not seeing the living room any longer, but images of Lily, James, and Harry. Harry. She is dimly aware that Dumbledore didn't include his name when he spoke of his parents being dead, but it's too early for her to care about that. Another picture now fills her mind, so clear and vivid she almost reaches out for it. Sirius is standing there, holding James' and Lily's hands in his own. He is looking pale but determined and when he speaks, his voice is steady. "I swear to protect your secret with my life."
LIAR.
Rage flashes through her in a wave so hot it's almost physically painful, and something blindingly white explodes in front of her eyes. There is an ear-splitting bang and a shattering of glass. Then silence.
Becky looks up in confusion to find Dumbledore and her parents staring at her. She swallows, only just noticing her breath is coming in ragged pants. Cool air touches her skin and when she looks over to the window -
"Dear God," Amy says weakly and clutches the handkerchief to her mouth. Robert lets go of his wife and slowly walks towards the window. Or rather, what's left of it. Glass is scattered all over the floor and charred remnants of the once-white window-frame cling to a hole in wall.
Becky catches Dumbledore's gaze. She nearly falls out of her chair when she
suddenly hears his voice in her head. //Before you ask, yes, that was you.//
She tries to answer in the same way and knows she succeeded, as Dumbledore's lips curve in a subdued but honest smile.
*How? How could I do it?*
//It's a gift. A gift that was given to your family long ago. Since then it has been passed on, always with the death of the former heir.//
*You mean that - that it came from Lily?*
She sees Dumbledore nod solemnly and feels it in her mind. //She passed it to you.//
*I don't want it!* She has to concentrate so as to not shout it aloud. *It is what killed Lily in the end, am I right?*
//It is -//
*Am I right?*
She both sees and feels the sigh. //Yes. Voldemort killed her because she possessed a power so great it meant danger to him.//
*I don't want it. Take it back!* She sounds like a child but she doesn't care. Everything inside her revolts against what is now her supposed 'gift'.
//It's too late. It's your destiny.//
*What? To die like Lily?* She suddenly can't take it any longer and bolts out of the room, leaving her parents staring after her in confusion. Leaning against the wall outside and taking deep breaths, she tries to shut Dumbledore's voice out of her head, but to no avail.
//Lily died because the gift came to her in a time it meant danger to the one who possessed it. She used her power on Harry and therefore kept him alive.// It is obvious he is waiting for any kind of response, but Becky wills her mind to be silent. She hears Dumbledore sigh again. //You are right, this is certainly not the time for that. We can talk later. But please, remember: it came from Lily. She wanted you to have it.// With that, he was gone.
Becky finally submits to the weakness she feels and slides down to the floor, Dumbledore's last words repeating over and over in her head. //It came from
Lily...she wanted you to have it...from Lily...//
Lily, she thinks and starts to cry.