.Timely Echoes.
It was dark. The winter months had since claimed the daylight that they had once had. Darkness usually meant peace. Such shreds of normality could still be counted on. That at night, people would be sleeping. And that at night, you could dream. And that somewhere, someone would be dreaming of a place without horrors, oblivious to everything but the silence of the night and the numbing feeling of their reverie.
But somewhere, on one lone street, someone wandered. Not in a dream, but lost in reality. Without the comfort of a dream to wrap around themselves, a blanket on a stormy evening. This person wandered like one without any hope. Without anything. They walked as one who had nothing to lose. And everything to lose.
The snow crunched beneath their feet, as more fell dreamily from the sky. The person pulled the cloak hood higher up. Passing few windows brightly lit with candles, the person turned their face forward. Trying to forget how many years the candles had stayed, trying to forget the sincere faces of the people had placed them there. The candles had diminished in number, but the few that still burned served as a spark of hope in a dark, dark world.
Picking a solid door to come inside from the cold. From the abandoned street. From the ruined world. They pulled against the handle wearily, someone tired not with age, but with the world. The grains of wood gave way beneath the push and the door swung open. Somewhere, a bell rung merrily. So normal. Light flooded into the dark street and onto the person's face.
Blinking to get used to the light, they strode into The Three Broomsticks. Glancing nervously around, they walked closer to the counter, never withdrawing the hood. With a sudden, jerking motion, they tapped on a bell that stood on the counter, and they waited for someone to help them. Glancing around, they spotted the usual drunks, lonely people, and the seemingly normal atmosphere fell into place. It seemed as though nothing had changed.
"Can I help you?", A man smiled at the hooded person. His joyful expression making up for his lack of hair and abundance of wrinkles. Surveying the man, the person closed their eyes, taking a deep, almost pained breath. Controlling whatever emotion that threatened to burst forth. Who knows what had happened to Rosemerta, the barmaid that everyone knew. The person didn't think that they wanted to know. It was better off not knowing. Ignorance was bliss, they used to say.
Trying to control themselves, they person didn't see a dark-haired man look up. He had been sitting on a near-by bar stool, a pensive look upon his face, sliding his fire whisky back and forth between hands. "Tortured for information." He told the person in a deep, even voice. As if he had read their mind. "Never found." He added the last part regretfully, a bit sadly, as he stopped playing with his drink.
The person looked up, shooting a glance about the room, then looking at him through the tunnel of the hood. "Wood." They said informally, sitting cautiously on the stool next to him.
Wood nodded. "Bell." He added, trying to peer into the hood. "You aren't even supposed to be here." He gave the figure a look like that of a concerned big brother.
The person lowered their voice. "Is it safe?", they asked, a whisper.
Wood shrugged. "As far as I can tell. Drunks don't remember." He pointed discreetly toward a ruddy faced man, staggering out the door.
The figure nodded, and withdrew the hood. "How did you know?", She asked, without feeling. She had wanted to be found out, but not so easily.
Wood shrugged as the man behind the bar frowned. "Can I help you Miss?", he asked, impatiently. Katie looked up. "Um. A Butterbeer is fine." One was slid across the counter to her.
Figuring that the man didn't want to be involved in anything, she grabbed Oliver's wrist and the butterbeer, pulling him to a table in the back.
"Sit." She commanded, dropping tiredly into the booth. Snapping the cap off the drink, she looked back to Oliver. "So how did you know?", she gave him an intense look.
Wood held up a hand and gestured to his wrist. "I remember." Was all he said, his tone of voice bordering sadness.
Katie glanced at her hand. A small linked bracelet encircled her wrist, a small broom charm hung from that. She had forgotten about it. Closing her eyes for a moment, she , too, remembered.
Half stumbling, half walking down the stairs, Katie blinked at her surroundings. The Gryffindor common room was unusually empty, and the fire burned bright. Outside, snow fell. Unrelenting as she gazed out at it. Christmas.
"Katie!", Someone squealed, tackling her to the ground. "Merry Christmas!". Katie laughed, the sheer joy overwhelming now. To feel so happy was near impossible. "Alicia, G' off!", She managed to spit through her laughter.
Alicia hung over her. " 'Lina!", She called. "Katie's lacking the Christmas spirit!"
Knowing what was coming, Katie attempted to scramble off of the ground. "No, no, no!", gasped, giggling too hard to pick herself up.
"Weasley pile!", Someone shouted from up the stairs opposite of the Girl's dorms. Pounding was heard, something of a small stampede, then two people landed on herself and Alicia. "Ow!", Alicia groaned. "I said Angelina for a reason. The reason being that she weighs less than one of you."
Fred looked offended and placed a hand over his heart. The Weasley sweater making his hair look darker than usual. "Alicia, are you calling me fat?"
Katie sputtered, "No, she's calling the both of you big boned. Fred, your enormous weight is breaking my back." She gave a short laugh.
Oliver, in his usual cocky attitude, strode down the stairs. "Fred, George…the one day we don't have quidditch, you manage to attempt sabotage on your own team. You should be ashamed!" He held out a hand for both Katie and Alicia.
"No lasting injuries, right?", he asked suspiciously, eying the twins. "Because if I have to suspend these two—"
"No!", Katie and Alicia both jumped.
"Oliver, they weren't doing anything wrong. We promise." Alicia added, with a bit of a blush. "And we're okay."
"Well…Just in case, I'm separating you. No accidents today, you hear me?", Oliver pointed to one side of the Common Room. "You two". He nodded toward the Twins and gestured to Lee, who was rubbing tired eyes. "And you."
Then he nodded toward the chasers, Katie and Alicia and Angelina, who had somehow appeared at their side, her arms laden with presents.
"Thank you, Oliver." Alicia looked to the ground and Fred and George eyed Lee.
"Well, then--" Oliver looked clearly uncomfortable. "I'll see you at supper, yes?", Without waiting for an answer, he retreated back into the quidditch corner of the Common Room, giving them looks every few minutes.
"Well", Angelina said, happily. "I wouldn't want to make Wood mad. Merry Christmas everyone!". She dropped the load of boxes to the ground and began picking them up one by one, hurling them to the boys on the other side of the room.
"Fantastic idea, love!", Fred laughed, as both he and George began pulling candy and gadgets out of their pockets.
Not expecting much to be thrown at her, Katie wondered how long it would take her to get her presents for everyone from her room. Just as she spun to head for the dorms, something whizzed past her ear. Instinctively, she threw out her hand a caught the small box.
Looking to the other side of the room quizzically, she held the box out, expecting someone to tell her it was a mistake. But from the other side, George gave her a bold wink as he tossed a box of chocolate frogs to Alicia.
Nervously, Katie twisted her blonde hair around her finger. She didn't know what she was anticipating, but it was something. Finally gaining the courage, she gently untied the box.
Shaking, Katie took a long drink of her butterbeer. The drink that was supposed to warm her, didn't. She hadn't been able to warm up since…since… She had lived in endless cold. It didn't matter anymore. Not to her. She lived numb.
"The last time I was here…", she shakily told Oliver, "Was right before we--I joined." She recalled, looking around and pointedly avoiding the mirror over the bar. She didn't want to see herself. She wasn't old at all, but she looked worn. Someone who had weathered too many storms. Katie wound a strand of blonde hair around her finger, one habit that had never changed.
"Think we'll ever see each other again?", Alicia asked, as she looked around the round table. Opened butterbeer bottles sat in front of all of them, but no one had taken a sip.
"Of course we will!", Katie sat straight up as she said this with as much conviction as she could muster. Which was to say, not much.
"No matter what", Angelina lowered her voice. "We will never forget." She gave her intimidating look to everyone. "Never."
Fred, who had been silent until then, looked up with dark rimmed eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep. None of them had. "What will we never forget?", He asked Angelina, looking like he was in dire need of a Firewhisky. "Our past? Our present? Our non-existent future?", he was nearly yelling now. George put a hand on his brother's shoulder to calm him.
"Everything.", Angelina said sadly, not reacting to the future comment. "We will never forget anything."
"I'll drink to that." Lee agreed, holding up his full butterbeer. Hesitantly, all six glasses were raised. Together, they toasted to that. The 'chink' of the glass sealing their friendship. They could never turn back now.
Katie felt a tear falling down her cheek. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her cloak as she focused past Oliver. "I can't do this anymore." She told him, her voice quiet.
Oliver's eyes opened wide. "Bell!", he hissed, leaning across the table. When he was aggravated, he called people by their last names. "You're head of intelligence! You don't exist anymore, remember? You're dead." He leaned forward. "It's deserting, you know. If you leave. Don't know where you would go anyway."
Katie wiped at her eyes. "You don't understand, Wood. I can't." More tears threatened. "I'm dead anyways. They know that I'm somewhere…and that I'm someone…." She sipped at her Butterbeer. So normal. "They'll find me anyway. I'll have a better chance if I leave."
A flood of memories washed over her. She couldn't stop it. She didn't want them…
The discovery of Lee only a week after leaving on his mission; A man held out a picture and told her to identify the body. A life boiled down to a picture and, after she hardened her heart, the words, "Lee Jordan. London, England. Twenty-One."
Alicia's last words spoken with a grin, only moments before she was killed; "See you guys later" and she never would. Not ever.
Angelina's house, charred and broken. Fred standing at it's side looking broken as well. The Dark Mark above illuminating his face to a sickly-green color. She knew he blamed her.
The last glimpse of Weasley hair was a curt nod from Fred and a kiss on the forehead from George. They both promised to be safe, and to make it back, but as all of them knew, promises were no good now. The one thing that you could rely on was now the one thing that broke your heart the most.
"I…I can't do this, Wood." Katie looked to the ground, as she got up out of the booth. "I quit. There's nothing else." She pulled up the hood of her cloak and met his eyes. "Good bye, Oliver Wood". The girl rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment as she held his gaze, then squeezed, and dropped her arm.
Brushing past him, he heard the bell that opened the door ring.
Katie was back in the snow now with her cloak wrapped around her frail body. Each step that she took in the snow-filled street seemed to take more and more out of her. Every time her shoe met snow, she seemed to leave a part of herself behind. Her burden was leaving her.
Reaching the Shrieking Shack, Katie looked behind her. She seemed to have lost herself in entirety. So many steps in such little time. The footprints that she had left in the snow were filling in, she was untraceable. More nothing now than ever.
The person pulled the hood up and looked straight ahead. Eventually, one could not make out their profile against the sky. They could try and hide themself, but there were always footprints. They left a trail that would bring echoes of the past in time, when the sun was out and every single candle extinguished. When everyone deserved to know the truth. Of the person's and their friends' struggle.
Footprints, they were such a shred of normality that they could always be counted on.