Chapter 4: Erased

Chapter 4: Erased
PRESENT: JUNE

To Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Sir:
My departure has been significantly delayed because of the sudden death of an old friend. I must, therefore, request a postponement of our appointment while I attend her funeral and make some necessary arrangements. A delay of no more than one week should suffice. I humbly apologise for any inconvenience this may cause you.
Sincerely,
Meli Ebony

ooo

Immediately after posting her letter to Dumbledore and making an emergency Floo call, Meli apparated again, this time into a Muggle neighborhood. She arrived after dark and between two trees, minimizing the chance that anyone about would see anything odd. A few minutes later, another witch arrived, appearing in the trees just behind her.

"Welcome to England," Meli said dryly.

"Thanks," the other replied, tugging at the collar on her Muggle blouse. "Sorry about the delay. You caught me over at my parents' house, so I had to change out of robes." She had an American accent, dark curly hair, and a businesslike manner. Her build was more solid than Meli's, and she stood a full inch taller.

"A small delay won't matter," Meli replied, stepping out from between the trees. "You have everything?"

The American nodded. "Yeah. This'll be the first time I've gone through the spiel with Muggles, though." She followed Meli across the yard and up the porch steps.

"Don't worry." Meli sighed. "They know more than they think they do."

The other looked narrowly at her. "Oh, peachy."

Meli smiled in spite of herself as she knocked. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a blond man about thirty years old with a drawn face and hollow eyes.

"Meli!" An anxious smile flickered briefly to life then died almost immediately. "Have you heard, then?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes." She beckoned the other witch forward. "Scott, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine—Andrea Underhill. She's here to help."

Scott locked eyes with Meli for the barest second, then nodded and opened the door to let them in. "The police have been by," he was already saying. "Told us it was some sort of ritual killing. They even think they know who did it, but they can't find him. Mum and Dad are over—afraid to go home." He led them from the entryway to the living room, where five others were already gathered. An older man and woman sat on the couch, their hands tightly clasped between them. A woman about Scott's age sat in a wing-backed chair near the couch, a young boy huddled in her lap and a slightly younger boy at her feet. All looked anxious, and the adults also seemed darkly bewildered. The boys, who were eight and ten, were just young enough not to know what the words "ritual killing" probably entailed.

Her heart went out to all of them, but she couldn't bring them the comfort of saying it wasn't so. The Aurors dispatched to notify Elizabeth's surviving family hadn't lied, after all; everything about Voldemort was ritualistic.

"Hello, Meli," Scott's mother said, a brief touch of her familiar angelic smile surfacing. "I wondered if they'd have told you."

Meli swallowed. "Yes," she replied. "Because of my… history… they thought it would be better if I identified."

"And was—was it… my sister Elizabeth?" Scott asked, turning to face her. "It wasn't a mistake—some other Elizabeth Golden?"

There were no words. Meli shook her head and forced herself to hold her tears at bay.

None of the Camerons made any physical move, but the adults' bewilderment grew. "Why?" Mr. Cameron asked.

Meli exchanged looks with Andrea and cleared her throat. "You know my past—some of it, anyway," she said in a low voice. "I know the Staffords will have told you. I displeased some of my grandfather's friends, and they've made it their mission to kill anyone associated with me." A half-truth, that, but further explanation was impossible at this time, especially with Muggles. "That's why the Staffords were killed. Once these people found me—"

She broke off before an involuntary sob could escape. Identifying her adoptive parents after the Death Eaters had finished with them was one of the most horrifying memories of her childhood, and now it was happening all over again. "I am so—sorry they found your family," she whispered, but the words weren't nearly enough; it was her fault—all of this was her fault. She should have told them before Andrew's death, or, failing that, immediately afterward.

Mrs. Cameron, ever the comforting cherub, left the couch and crossed to hug Meli. "There, there, dear," she crooned, somehow forgetting her own pain for a few brief seconds. "You couldn't have known!"

"I should have warned you, though," Meli said fiercely. "Years ago. But I can try to protect you now, if you're willing."

"Will we have to leave?" Scott's wife Charity asked.

"You'll have to disappear entirely," Andrea answered.

Meli indicated Andrea with one hand. "This is Andrea Underhill, an old friend of mine who's familiar with the people the police are looking for. She can help you get away without being traced."

Scott looked narrowly at Andrea. "How?"

Andrea smiled coolly. "Ever seen the movie Eraser?"

He nodded.

"Arnold Schwarzeneggar's character's a rank amateur. He had to fake the deaths. I make it so none of you ever existed. You disappear here, you resurface elsewhere, in a place where—surprise!—you've always been. You'll have to be careful what you say, of course, and you'll be given different names, but otherwise, you've got airtight covers."

"How soon do we have to decide?" Mr. Cameron asked.

Andrea raised her eyebrows and darted a glance at Meli.

"Malfoy's had a decade to work," Meli reminded her in an undertone. "You can bet he'll come here next."

"I can hedge twenty-four hours for you," Andrea said. "But I can't guarantee it, and after midnight on any given night, they'll be ready, willing, and able to strike when the order comes."

The four adults traded dark looks, and Scott cleared his throat. "We need a few minutes to talk."

Meli led Andrea to the kitchen, where they sat at the breakfast table and stared at the mint green walls.

"On the whole, I'd say they took it rather well," Andrea remarked, more to break the silence than anything else.

"That may well be because they don't know what Death Eaters are, and they've never encountered an Auror," Meli retorted.

Andrea looked narrowly at her. "So you didn't tell them nine years ago?"

"The medical examiner ruled it a death of natural causes." Meli raised her eyebrows. "What was I supposed to do, tell them she lied?"

"But this is Muggle medicine we're talking about!"

"Yes, Andrea," Meli snapped. "Exactly. And as normal as they seem to you, the Camerons are all Muggles. You do not tell Muggles that their son died from a Kedavra curse." She glared at the tabletop. "If I had warned them, the time would have been best when my parents died. I tried to warn Andrew, in fact, but seeing where that got him, how much luck to you think I'd've had with his parents or brother or sister?"

She knew without looking that Andrea's eyes had fixed on the ring she still wore. Even Andrea had never been told the whole story behind it, but she knew more than even the family of its giver did.

"Do you plan on wearing Andrew's ring to your grave?" she asked softly.

"Unless a better ring comes along, yes." The answer might as well have been a direct yes; there really could be no replacement for this one.

They were silent again for a seeming eternity, until Scott came to the doorway and cleared his throat. "We've decided," he said.

ooo

Andrea had already settled on a slow education for the Camerons, but an education was absolutely necessary. With Meli's help, she directed the family to pack their things for transport—essentials only, and absolutely no pictures or mementos of the Goldens. She promised that these mementos would be carefully stored until it was safe enough to bring them out again, and she conveniently neglected to mention what mode of transport she had in mind for the rest of their belongings.

The family was nearly ready to go when the first tidbit of their education arrived.

"Owl mail!" Andrea called, opening the window six inches to admit a small express delivery owl. "It's got your name, Meli."

Without thinking, Meli took the envelope. The owl fluttered to roost on the arm of the couch while she read the letter and wrote a rapid reply. She fished out five knuts for the owl, then handed it her note.

To Andrea's questioning look, she shrugged and said, "Just Dumbledore, letting me know he's postponed my interview a week." She turned back to her task but paused when she saw that Scott and Charity had stopped their packing to stare.

"Er—" Meli smiled wanly. "They're faster than pigeons?"

The owl jerked its head in a nod of adamant agreement and shot out through the window again.

"Plenty of that where we're going," Andrea said casually. To Meli's surprised look, she replied, "Where better to hide them than in a Squib town, dear?"

Meli felt her eyes widen a touch further. "Oh, my."

"A what town?" Scott asked.

Andrea looked thoughtfully at him. "I think it'll be awhile before I can explain the whole thing," she replied after a moment. "In the meantime, I can tell you that Squibs are perfectly normal people—so perfectly normal that those you're hiding from would never think to look for you among them."

Wry amusement touched one corner of Scott's mouth. "Are you saying, then, that we're not perfectly normal?"

"Hm." Andrea cleared her throat. "No. I'm saying that you're normal people associated with someone who's anything but"—she jerked a thumb in Meli's direction—"which means that you stand out against your surroundings. In relocating to a Squib town, you'll ensure that that association will cease to be extraordinary."

"You won't have to cut off all contact with me," Meli assured him. "What Andrea means is that, while Squibs are different from me, they don't consider me abnormal."

Scott and his wife exchanged opaque looks and pointedly returned to their packing. Meli smirked then sharply beckoned to Andrea. "A word, please."

She led the Auror aside. "You know they'll eventually learn far more than Muggles generally like to know if they live among Squibs," she said quietly.

Andrea steadily met her gaze. "Knowledge is power, Meli. They won't know everything, but they'll know enough to understand and defend themselves more adequately against the threat."

"They'll think I'm a runaway Death Eater," Meli hissed through her teeth. "What else could they conclude?"

Andrea glanced sidewise at Mrs. Cameron, who had just brought in a packed box. "These people seem far less skeptical than I ever was, and I ended up giving you the benefit of the doubt, if you remember." She looked back to Meli. "They're more forgiving than I think you give them credit for."

Meli sighed. "They are Muggles," she reminded her friend. "Do you think they'll be able to make the adjustment?"

Andrea grinned. "Oh, yeah. For people grounded in empirical science, Muggles are unusually adaptable. Give it ten years, and Scotty, Jr., over there'll be dating Dumbledore's great-great-granddaughter like it was the most normal thing in the world."

The prospect of that sort of social exchange taking place between the Camerons and any old wizarding family—much less the venerated Dumbledore line—amused Meli, but in an odd sort of way, it made perfect sense.

"Well," she said at last, "as long as you break it to them softly, I suppose they'll be able to swallow it one bite at a time."

"Exactly," Andrea replied. "I did say they'd be going to a Squib town. If I really wanted to shock 'em and feed 'em the whole casserole at once, I'd put 'em in Hogsmeade."

"Your mercy astonishes."

JULY 1979, JUST BEFORE FIRST YEAR
The Staffords lived next door to a family named Cameron, and the Camerons' daughter Elizabeth was Meli's age. At first, Meli hoped that her cold behavior and absolute solemnity would drive Elizabeth away, but instead of leaving, the other girl returned repeatedly, determined to be Meli's friend. Mrs. Stafford and Mrs. Cameron were housewives who visited one another constantly, giving Elizabeth even greater opportunity to wear down Meli's resistance over the summer holidays.

Finally, against her better judgment, Meli gave in and consented to spend a night at the Camerons' house. She was a nervous wreck the entire day leading up to it, anticipating the unexpected appearance of a Death Eater and a series of horrifying deaths, but her neck never went cold, and by the time she actually stood in the Camerons' entryway, she was starting to calm down.

Elizabeth soon put a stop to that, though; she was cheerful, bubbly, and very good at talking about things Meli wanted to avoid.

"I knew we'd be great friends the very moment I saw you!" Elizabeth chattered. "And you seem so very lonely!"

"Maybe that's because the only people she ever comes around are dummies like you," Elizabeth's older brother Andrew said as he walked past them in the hall.

Elizabeth gave him a nasty look, then took Meli's arm and led her toward the back of the house. "Will you have a biscuit?"

The image of a man falling to his knees, blood flooding from every cavity in his skull, passed before Meli's eyes. She stopped walking, squeezing her eyes shut and choking down a dry heave. "No, thanks," she managed to say, fairly politely. "I… don't like sweets."

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Elizabeth looking at her with concern. "The taste makes me feel ill," she explained lamely.

"Oh, that's no good!" Elizabeth said, her words thick with pity. "We'll find something for you, then—a scone or some banana bread, maybe. Mum always keeps something around."

They made their way to the kitchen, where Mrs. Cameron stood at the counter, chopping vegetables at a speed which seemed to Meli more magical than Muggle. She looked up and smiled at the girls. "Come for a snack, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled broadly. "Yes, please," she replied. "But Meli can't have sweets, Mum. They make her sick."

Mrs. Cameron set down her knife and looked at Meli, but, mercifully, there was no pity in her gaze. "That's too bad," she replied. "Is it the sugar that does it, Meli?"

Meli shook her head. "No, ma'am. Just the taste. It… catches in my throat."

"I see." She thought a moment, then brightened a bit. "Do you mind sour tastes?"

"No, ma'am."

"What do you think of lemon curd?"

Meli shrugged. "Dunno, ma'am—I've never had it."

"Ooh, it's very sour," Elizabeth said, her eyes sparkling. "Mum makes her own—it's a lot better than what you'd buy."

Mrs. Cameron pulled a Ball jar out of the refrigerator and removed the lid. "Here, have a little taste, dear," she offered. "If you like it, we'll put it on some bread for you."

It would be several years before Meli discovered the secret of Mrs. Cameron's lemon curd, but this first taste was the most powerful, face-puckering sample of pure sour she had ever encountered, and it would never be surpassed.

By the time she was able to unscrunch her eyes, she was smiling with delight. "It's very good, ma'am. Thank you!"

"I daresay you're sweet enough you don't need anything further," Mrs. Cameron remarked kindly. "Some tart might do you good."

Knowing herself as she did, Meli knew that Mrs. Cameron was mistaken, but there was really no polite way for an eleven year-old to correct a well-meaning adult.

ooo

Having never been to a sleepover, Meli had no idea what to expect. Apparently, there were several rituals which she should simply take for granted, but she had no way of knowing what those might be. Elizabeth knew, though, so she cheerfully (far too cheerfully for Meli's liking) led the way.

It was at about 11:30, when Elizabeth whispered conspiratorially that they were up much later than Mum or Dad usually allowed, that the second worst of Meli's fears came to pass.

Elizabeth had insisted on playing with Meli's hair, so her fingers were entwined all through it when a flash of pain shot through Meli like a rocket. Whoever it was that Voldemort was torturing did a very good job of holding back a scream, but Meli couldn't. She whipped away from Elizabeth, howling.

One arm slammed into Elizabeth's bed frame, while the other hand clawed at the carpeting. There was no breath in her for explanation, only for screaming as Elizabeth fled the room in terror. Every nerve in her body was afire, every bone in her skeleton was splintering… and then the curse doubled, finally pulling shrieks out of its direct recipient.

The moment lengthened to an eternity, and she closed her eyes against it, screaming until she tasted blood from her own raw throat. Voldemort initiated another Cruciatus and another, soaking her in agony and driving the other victim to raise his voice in a scream that rivaled hers.

Her eyes were so tightly closed that her head ached from the inside. She never saw the five Camerons gathering in the doorway to stare at her, never heard Mrs. Cameron order Scott to dial three nines, but when the Cruciatus finally stopped, she most certainly felt the paramedics' gentle touches, which felt like bruising blows. One cleaned the blood out of her mouth, and the taste of it brought back the vivid memory of her first biscuit.

She rolled onto her side, vomiting violently.

ooo

When she came fully awake, she was lying on a bed in an antiseptic-smelling room. She kept her eyes closed, protection against the light she knew would sear them.

"All Elizabeth said she did was play with Meli's hair," Mrs. Cameron's tearful voice whispered somewhere nearby. "It can't have been something Lizzy did…?"

"No," Mrs. Stafford's voice replied gently. "It's a condition Meli developed shortly before we adopted her. That's why her grandfather could no longer care for her. She had one incident two months ago… I didn't think it would happen tonight, or I would never have let her go. I'm so sorry, Janie."

"Don't be," Mrs. Cameron said. "You couldn't have known. It frightened us, that's all. And Meli is still welcome at any time.

Oh, lovely, Meli thought sourly. After all of this, I'll still have to put up with Elizabeth. What a lucky duck I am.

Still, as irritating as Elizabeth could be sometimes, Meli had to admit, if only to herself, that having a friend had partly filled in her a void that she had not known existed, never having had a friend before. If Elizabeth disappeared after tonight, Meli knew that she would badly miss her.

PRESENT: JUNE
Meli accompanied the Camerons and helped them settle into their new home. How Andrea had managed to arrange a house, jobs, new identities, and American citizenship for a family of six in under twenty-four hours was beyond Meli's comprehension, but by the time they arrived in America through the international Floo network, everything was in place.

The Camerons' new home was in a primarily Squib town called Reglan, and, as Andrea had promised, they were already well known in the community. Squibs, as a rule, tended to be very accepting people, and once Andrea made it known to a select few that the Camerons—now the Andersons—were in need of both education and cover, the neighbors were only too happy to help, correctly assuming that these were refugees from You-Know-Who's domain. It didn't hurt at all that, as Meli discovered, many of those neighbors were Andrea's friends and relatives; her cause became immediately theirs.

As predicted, the Camerons were adaptable to a setting that, while not wholly magical, was still not at all Muggle. There was an awkward moment when Scott's younger son Daniel ran in to show his parents the neighbor girl's talking chessmen, but after weathering a few minutes of the white knight's incessant dueling challenges, the family took a collective deep breath and moved on, much to Meli's relief and Andrea's delight.

Ordinarily, Meli would have been just as amused as Andrea was at the process of adaptation, but she now lived in fear of discovery. Sooner or later, one of the Camerons was bound to start asking questions of her, many of which she didn't want to answer or even think about.

It was Mrs. Cameron who finally broached the subject when she found Meli waiting out a nasty bout of insomnia at the kitchen table their second morning there. If the older woman suspected the other's anxiety, she didn't show it; instead, she brewed a pot of chamomile tea and set a cup of it in front of Meli.

"Nice and strong," Mrs. Cameron said. "Not a grain of sugar to it."

Meli managed a smile and took a sip. As promised, the tea was dark, almost a caution yellow, and free of any trace of sweetness. "Thank you."

Mrs. Cameron smiled. "We're living at the edge of a completely different world now, aren't we? A world that's always been there, but we never knew about it." She caught the younger woman's eye. "It's your world, isn't it, Meli."

Meli met Mrs. Cameron's eye, and saw neither accusation nor resentment; there was only curiosity and wonder. "I don't know that it's necessarily my world," she replied. "It's a world into which I fit with a bit more ease. My own world is rather more narrowly defined."

"Until I saw those chessmen, I never thought to believe magic existed outside of my own imagination." Mrs. Cameron raised her eyebrows. "And it is magic, isn't it?"

Meli nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Squibs grow up in magical communities, but their abilities are limited or nonexistent."

"Are you a Squib?"

She smiled bitterly and shook her head. "No, ma'am. Life might have been a great deal easier if I had been, but I'm a fully capable and trained witch."

Mrs. Cameron blinked in surprise. "A witch?"

"Yes." Meli's smile turned rueful. "A term which has suffered from misapplication and which many have co-opted for unworthy use. Witch is a legitimate rank in the magical community; it's other people who give it a bad name among Muggles. In this community, witches and wizards are always those with abilities and training in magic—nothing more or less."

Mrs. Cameron was silent a moment as she seemed to weigh her next words carefully. "And are there evil witches as well as good?"

"Anything used improperly or with wrong motives can manifest as evil," Meli answered. "There are evil accountants as well as good, if you take my meaning. There are those who use magic as a means of power and dominance and the forwarding of their own ambitions, with no consideration for right and wrong; yes, they're evil."

"And Lizzy… she and John and little Meli… they weren't killed as part of a ritual…were they."

Meli consciously maintained her cool mask, but fear prickled at her stomach. "I don't know that I'd say that," she replied carefully. "Power is something like a religion for practitioners of the Dark Arts; this killing was very ritualistic. There's a battle waging between those practitioners and those of us who oppose them. Their leader ordered Elizabeth's death." Meli forced some semblance of steadiness into her voice. "He delights in seeing others suffer—that's power to him."

"You've met him."

Meli swallowed, echoes of pain sounding hollowly through her bones. "Long ago," she said. "He is not a… pleasant… man."

"You fight him?"

Something caught in her throat, delaying her answer, but at last she shook her head. "Not directly—I can't. A peculiar set of circumstances makes that an unwise course, but there are plenty of other ways of opposing him. I've been invited to interview for a position teaching students who will fight him directly."

Mrs. Cameron regarded her silently for a time then said gently, "Your grandfather was one of his friends, wasn't he?"

Meli stared at her and actually laughed out loud in surprise. "I suppose I've made it easy enough for you to conclude that, haven't I?"

"Well, there have been some clues left lying," Mrs. Cameron allowed, smiling briefly. She was silent a long time before pointedly changing the subject. "How long can you stay with us?"

Meli bit her lip. "I still haven't interviewed," she answered. "I hope to do that by the end of this week. Even if the headmaster clears me to teach, I still need the board of governors' approval. That'll take time—I don't know how much."

"As long as you're here at least one more day." Mrs. Cameron smiled knowingly. "A house is not a home until there's lemon curd in the refrigerator, and I fully intend to see to that today. Wherever you end up going from here, you'll have a jar with you."

Meli smiled faintly. "Oh, Mrs. Cameron," she sighed. "I do hope I can somehow repay your kindness as you deserve. Until now, I've brought you only grief."

"How's that?" Mrs. Cameron asked skeptically. "Did you kill Elizabeth, or John, or little Meli?" Her eyes narrowed a touch. "Did you kill Andrew?"

Meli couldn't keep her own eyes from widening. "Andrew?" she echoed, sliding into her Slytherin innocence with practiced ease. "I don't understand."

"You've always acted more as if he'd been murdered," Mrs. Cameron said. "I don't ask you to tell me how he died…" Her eyes were solemn. "But I do ask you not to blame yourself. None of us has ever blamed you, and we all saw that you tried to prevent it." She patted Meli's hand. "However you do battle, fight hard and fight well, Meli. When people exert themselves for the cause of good, evil can only be driven back and defeated."

She knows, Meli thought, simultaneously frightened and relieved. She can have no idea of the method, but she knows it was a Death Eater that killed him.

JUNE 1986, JUST AFTER SEVENTH YEAR
Jane Cameron had known somehow that her son would not return to her alive. She never knew if it was intuition or something else—some dark, brooding, unnamed thing—but something told her truly that, if Andrew left that night, he would turn up dead by morning.

It started with a fight and rapidly degenerated from there. Elizabeth and Andrew stood side by side in the living room, she waiting for her fiancé to pick her up, he straightening his tie, both shouting at each other at the tops of their lungs.

Mrs. Cameron rarely raised her voice, but she did now. "What is the meaning of this!"

Andrew clamped his mouth shut, but Elizabeth whirled to face her mother, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing with anger. "Andrew's got a ring in his pocket!" she snapped. "He's taking Meli to a restaurant he really can't afford, and he's got a bloody ring in his pocket!"

Her stomach had twisted with eerie certainty even then, but she had forced herself to remain calm as she turned to her son. "Is this true?"

"And what if it is?" Andrew retorted, his voice surly. "It's my money and my life, thanks."

"Why do you think Meli has started to keep her distance from you?" Mrs. Cameron asked. "She hasn't any interest in marriage, Andrew—at least not at this point in time—"

"And certainly never to you!" Elizabeth interjected.

"And you've been forcing the issue," Mrs. Cameron finished, ignoring the outburst.

"Ask him how he got her to go to dinner with him tonight," Elizabeth growled.

"None of your bloody business!" Andrew hollered.

"He said we were all going!" Elizabeth shouted. "All of us! That it's a special graduation present for her!"

"Shut up!"

Elizabeth slapped him soundly across the face. "How dare you!" she hissed. "She's told you her reasons, but will you listen? No! You're too bent on changing her mind! You'd stand a better chance of convincing her to eat a sugar cube, you myopic son of a—"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Cameron cut her off. She bored through Andrew with her eyes while Elizabeth stood seething. "Andrew, what do you really hope to accomplish by doing this?"

He looked defiantly at her. "I honestly believe she'll say yes," he replied sullenly. He ignored his sister's derisive laugh. "I think Meli loves me, but she's afraid to make a move. She's afraid of her past—afraid of someone actually knowing her."

Mrs. Cameron tried to keep her tone gentle, but sure knowledge of his folly hardened it. "She has good reason to fear her past, Andrew," she said. "You saw what happened to her parents. She's trying to protect you—to protect all of us."

"Well, then, she'll tell me as much at dinner, won't she?" he sniffed, then pushed past her and walked out of the house.

The next time she saw him, he lay dead in the hospital, a hysterical Meli hovering nearby. Mrs. Cameron never questioned the ring on Meli's finger, but both she and Elizabeth had understood its true meaning and had taken its warning to heart.

PRESENT: JUNE
When at last Meli allowed herself to rest, she had been awake and at work for over three days. She lay on the couch in the Camerons' new living room, buried her head under a borrowed pillow, and tried to remember how to cry. Mrs. Cameron had cut her to the heart during their talk, mostly because everything she'd said was true—and none of it should be.

She knew that none of them blamed her for Andrew's death, and that they didn't blame her for the Goldens' deaths. Having learned so much about her and her world, they could understand perfectly why she'd been hesitant to speak to Muggles about it, even why she had thought that they, as Muggles, would be safe. No one could help but regret that she hadn't spoken up…yet no one held it against her.

Unfortunately, Meli couldn't escape her culpability in the matter.

She remembered a reading assigned to her at university—an excerpt from W. K. Clifford's Ethics of Belief—in which Clifford had described a hypothetical ship owner's plight. The owner had a ship that was in ill repair; it had weathered many voyages and was in need of a complete overhaul. Friends had expressed intelligent concerns about the vessel's seaworthiness—or lack thereof. Nevertheless, when a group of emigrants asked to use the ship for a voyage, he agreed, reasoning that the ship had made many such voyages without problems, and he trusted in Providence to care for the ship and the people aboard.

The ship was unsafe, though. It sank, and all aboard it drowned. The ship owner, having placed it in Providence's care, let Providence take the blame and collected his insurance money without a single pang of conscience.

Meli, in the same way, had known the potential for disaster. She had seen what the Death Eaters did to her parents, had known that it could happen again to people she valued. Even when Narcissa had killed Andrew, she had silenced her fears with the hope that the Malfoys couldn't possibly trace him to his family. She had hoped that the fact that the Camerons were Muggles would protect them; in a manner of speaking, she had put them in the hands of Providence, without first asking Providence's permission. Even if the Camerons had never been touched, she would not have been innocent; she would only have been not found out.

The ship had sunk; John, Elizabeth, and little Meli had drowned. Meli, unlike the ship owner, could not go on with her life without a shred of guilt. Voldemort had given the order, and his barbaric initiate had pulled the proverbial trigger, but in not speaking up earlier, Meli Ebony and no one else had loaded the gun.

In time, she would have to come to terms with it and forgive herself, but for now she lived with the guilt. To try to rid herself of it so soon—even if that were possible—seemed dishonorable, a cheapening of those deaths.

At last she pulled her head out from under the pillow and stared at the ceiling above her. "God forgive me," she whispered. "I can't."