A/N: Enjoy :)
Chapter 2
Arthur was the first to stand, when I entered the room. The tears were uncontrollable, and I sobbed into his shoulder as he consoled me. After the months I had spent in here, I wondered whether I would be cold towards any of my family or friends, but I couldn't think of anything…all I could think of was that this hell has ended, I'll never have to see the horrors within these walls again, I was going home.
I was on the floor. I had felt my weight buckle from underneath me. My eyes stung from the salty tears that were leaving their marks all down my face. I didn't dare look up from the depths of his shoulder, for fear of what I must have looked like. I hadn't had anything, no shower, bath or even a bowl of water and a sponge. I had to think of when the last time my hair saw a brush…
I must have cried for 15 minutes straight, but Arthur comforting embrace never faltered. My bright orange hair combining with his almost perfectly, if mine were clean there would have been a perfect match. All the time Arthur was running a gentle hand over my head and trying to convince me that it was all going to be all right. Could I believe him? I wanted to.
When I could cry no more, I looked up from the now soaking wet shoulder and into the boyish eyes of Albus Dumbledore, who was still sitting, ever so patiently at the wooden table in the middle of the room. There was a light in his eyes that gave me hope, even though I had to squint to see them. Hope that I had feared I would never see again, and there it was, shinning brighter than ever in the eyes of my old head master.
I tried to smile, but I ended up choking on the action. Arthur drew my attention back to him, by gripping my shoulders in a reassuring way, that only a brother could provide. I looked into his face, and saw that he too had been crying, but it could have been from me. At that moment I felt closer to my brother than I had ever done before. There were times when I thought that I would never see him again, there were times when I feared not seeing anyone again, other than the dementor that guarded this place. Arthur was talking, but I couldn't hear him.
I turned to look back to Dumbledore, and he was now also on his feet, and holding something that had been on the table. Arthur saw me looking to Dumbledore instead of him and gently lifted me to my feet by gripping my arms. I wobbled on my jelly legs, and I momentarily considered that someone had hexed me. I however never took my eyes from Dumbledore.
Arthur moved to my side, but left his hands on my arms. Dumbledore smiled and I tried to smile back, though the end result can't have looked very pleasant. This didn't falter Dumbledore's expression, which was one of great relief. I took a step forward towards Dumbledore, with the aid of my brother. My old headmaster moved around the table in one fluid motion, which didn't seem possible for someone of his age. He was clucking the thing that was on the table tightly in his right hand. He took one long and controlled breath and as he stood before me, he held out his hand to me and said,
"Your wand Meg. No witch should be without her wand…"
And he handed my wand back to me. My wand…the very first I had. Cherry Wood, 10 inches, springy. I felt the tears once again well up inside of me. I hadn't seen this wand since I left Hogwarts. I had bought another as soon as I left, but that had been destroyed by one of the Aurors who had captured me.
"Thank you, headmaster…"
I looked down at it, lovingly. It had been 4 months since I had last held a wand. I almost forgot what it felt like, between my fingers. Arthur, I noticed from the corner of my eye, had raised his hands to his mouth, fighting a battle with himself so as not to start crying. With a flick of my wrist, my wand emitted a spark, making me jump slightly in surprise. I knew what the first spell would be…and I raised my wand to the side of my head and tapped it against somewhere near my temple. Within an instant, my hair was both clean and tidily tied back into a loose knot on the back of my head.
My glasses were smudged and cracked slightly, but they were also soon remedied. I could not change my clothes, but the ones I had on were clean again. I started to feel almost human again. A smile beamed from me, I couldn't believe my luck. I was going home.
I looked to Arthur. I had a question that had been burning in my mind for the past few months. I drew in an awkward breath and said…
"How's Molly?"
Arthur took on his own beaming smile and I knew…
"When?"
And he replied; "Two weeks last Thursday."
"And?" I stated. It was like trying to draw blood from a stone.
"Charlie. Charlie Weasly, my son."
Tears threatened my brother's eyes; I could see them behind his brave attempt to keep them at bay. Arthur was glowing. I had never seen him look so proud!
"I'm so glad. Aunt Meg…it sounds good? You know I'm going to spoil him rotten, don't you?"
But Arthur could not speak anymore. I think that if he even tried, he would burst. So I hugged my brother, wanting to share in his joy. But then I thought of someone. Someone who I hadn't thought of in a while. Someone who I wouldn't let myself think of; Remus.
But at that moment, as though reading my mind, Dumbledore answered my unasked question…
"Remus is in quite a state without you…he would have come, but I thought it best for Arthur and I come and get you. He's waiting, with Molly and Charlie at the Burrow."
Oh, the Burrow. My home. Or at least until I could find somewhere of my own to live. Remus was still with his parents, so when we are married we will look for another place, together. It had been so long since I'd seen him. I had missed him, terribly, but what sort of a state would I be in if I allowed myself to think of the man I truly loved?
I shook my head, trying to shake all thoughts of Remus from them. I would NOT allow myself to think of him until I am out of this place. Dumbledore, I noticed had sat back down on the wooden chair, behind the table and was studying both Arthur and myself.
I looked to him, caching his attention and smiling. A true smile, one that hadn't graced my face in months. He smiled back, his bent and crooked smile, but I knew it was genuine. I knew that it was on Dumbledore's orders that I had joined in the dark ranks, that it was on Dumbledore's orders that I had gone into the ministry with the other death eaters and it was as though on Dumbledore's orders that I was here. But he had helped me. He had come to rescue me, so I could not think badly of him.
At that moment, rapped up in my own little world, I didn't see the shadowy figure glide past the still open door. Dumbledore, however, did. He stood from his seat and moved, once again in that impossible fluid movement, towards the open door and called the prison warden.
The same tall and slimy man that had let me out of my cell stumbled into the room. He stood up straight and regarded each of us in turn. His eyes were last to leave me. I could feel them baring hard down on me as I kept my eyes to the floor. Before he said in a tone of impatience;
"You done yet? Only I want to close this room back up…it's not often the prisoners get released see, so the room don't get used much."
Dumbledore took a long breath and replied, "Yes, yes. I think we're all ready to go home…but first we'd like Megs personal belongings."
What? I didn't have any. I wasn't exactly a long-term prisoner. But then again it wasn't exactly the place you could pack to come to. But the warden man sulked out of the room and returned a second or two later with a plastic muggle sandwich bag. He practically threw the bag at me and stood against the doorframe, waiting for us to leave the room, tapping his foot to show that he was waiting.
Dumbledore took my arm and led me out of the room that we were in, through the cold cast iron frame and into possibly the darkest looking corridor I had ever seen. I could see the shadows moving! My breath caught in my chest and I went all cold. The lanterns seemed to go out, but I felt Dumbledore's strong hand on my arm, reassuring me in what was my hour of darkness. It wasn't the shadow's moving…it were dementor's!
Dumbledore's grip tightened, and I heard him shout, then the warden shouting. But before anything else, I was jerked to the left sharply and into another room. My vision returned and the heaviness lifted from my chest. We were in a dimly lit room with a fire pace on the furthest wall.
"There…" said Dumbledore calmly, "That is hopefully the last time you will encounter a dementor."
His smile had returned and it inspired confidence in me. I looked into his sparkling blue eyes and I knew, he would never put me in dangers way, deliberately again. His eyes broke from mine and looked down in to my hand. I followed his gaze and saw him looking at the plastic bag I was still clutching.
I opened it, as a child opens it's first present on Christmas morning. Out of the bags newly ripped hole, something little fell into my waiting hand. I knew what it was as soon as I felt it. I thought I had lost it, it would have been a great comfort to me all those hours in Azkaban. I picked it between my fingers and slid it on to my finger. It was the engagement ring that Remus had given me all those months ago.
A smile spread across my face, and I felt as thought I could have another round with the dementors. I'd like to see them try and strip this happy memory away from me. But that wasn't an option. Dumbledore had led me over to the fireplace and held some sort of a pot to me. I knew what he was asking.
I took a pinch of the green powder and threw it into the flames. The flames rose over me as I took a step into it. And I yelled: "The Burrow!"
And I was gone. Back to my life, back to Remus, back to reality, back to the Burrow.
