"The first casualty of war is innocence."
—S.L. Buckley, Legacy.
She had stood above her best friend in the calm. It felt surreal, like realizing you were in a nightmare and no way to wake yourself up. She mildly thought of the dream journals they'd done in divination; there had been a nightmare she'd had where she and Padma had been lost in an ever changing maze, Padma had been free and Parvati had been forced to wonder, finding nothing but dead ends and her sister's shouts to come on, to get out of there, the path was easy.
Parvati felt like she was back in that horrible place, and when Seamus had come up to her, tears in his eyes, it was almost like she'd known all along.
There are scars marring her beautiful face. Parvati's heart twists, and all she could think of was the endless hours of pimple potions and creams they'd tried — Lavender had flawless skin, always. There's a scar that runs from her eye to the place her dimple would be if she smiled. Lavender Brown would never smile again…
Parvati sees the matted blood against her scalp and her stomach flips when she realizes braids had been viciously torn out.
She hadn't deserved this death. This was a savage death, an unfair and unjust act.
Parvati felt rage course down her arms, in her belly, behind her eyes. She hoped she found the werewolf that had done this, because she knew if she did she'd tear him apart. She could. She wouldn't even
Parvati drops to her knees, her legs giving out. Seamus and Dean are too slow to catch her.
The four of them had always been close, even after the six months Seamus and Lavender had dated. Parvati had been so jealous then. It felt like a life time ago as she swayed, looking at her friend's blurry body.
Lavender, she thought before the world became dark and Seamus and Dean calling her faded into the darkness. Lavender Brown would never smile again, and Parvati Patil would never feel whole again.
.
.
.
The coin had stayed in the pockets of their cloaks that whole year.
They didn't dare send owls, it was too risky. It made Parvati sick, wondering if Lavender was okay. Had she gone back?
Her hands trembled, and she wrote thousands of letters, sometimes five times a day, and they all lay at the bottom of her trunk. Nothing could be trusted anymore, not even the post.
Lavender. Lavender. Lavender…
Her letters consisted of everything: The weather, hiding, her sister, and them.
When the coin burned, she'd been in the middle of another letter. Her words made no sense, but it didn't matter. It would sit at the bottom of her trunk, unread and forgotten soon. She jumped up, the burn scaring her. When she looked at it, she saw the coded message as Padma ran in.
Grandmother had begged them not to go, but in a rare moment, Parvati had disapparated perfectly. She was focused then. Her friends needed her. Lavender would need her.
They wouldn't miss another fight. Not again.
.
.
.
When the fight had broken out at the end of last year, the coins had sat naively at the bottom of their trunks.
It had been foolish. The war hadn't even really begun, then, not like now. Her parents hadn't wanted to send them back, but grandmother had called their father stupid for thinking anywhere would be safer than Hogwarts.
"Viraj! Don't be so stupid, everyone at gobstones says He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named only fears Dumbledore! We should all be so lucky to hide there!"
Why had they been so stupid?
When she got to the room of requirement, it's too full to find her friend. There's hundreds of people, all here to fight. It's humbling, in a way. She looks at them all, hoping to see them all again soon.
Parvati thought she'd understood war before then, but she'd been so naive. War wasn't just hiding and rationing, or giving up magic and your world, it was about loss and bravery and fear — so much fear. She could taste it.
Padma squeezes her hand before they go and fight.
.
.
.
Parvati had never been a dueler. Harry had tried very hard to teach her, but she was good at shield charms. She'd always excelled at useless classes (well, useless for war): Divination, charms, herbology… she should've taken defense more seriously.
She'd just thrown a spell that protected Padma when she sees Lavender running down the bridge. She's running to help someone. Parvati wants to call her name, but being distracted in battle is dangerous.
There will be time.
Later.
Later…
oOo
Padma comes with her, and Parvati is eternally grateful for it as they wait in the International Floo Department. They have three stops before India, and Padma looks green at the thought.
Padma always hated traveling by floo. Parvati didn't love it, but she hated apparition. She witnessed a nasty splinching during her first lesson that spooked her, and nowadays it was hard to focus.
Padma had excelled apparition, so it's true loyalty to go with her sister this way.
Parvati is jostled from her memories and watches Padma's hands twist around her cloak. She should comfort her, but she doesn't know what to say.
To be honest, she hasn't known what to say in months.
Padma had always been the quiet one. Padma had been thoughtful and bookish, and she'd excelled in school. She was gifted at arithmancy and runes, and she'd always been good at potions, even when they'd been toddlers Padma had played endlessly with her toy cauldron. Parvati had been talkative and hyper active. Parvati read books, but pleasurable ones about talking dragons and curses. Unlike Padma, Parvati loved Beedle and the Bard. She'd reread the fountain of fair fortune over and over until her mother hid the book on the top shelf. Now, the tables had turned.
Padma, the eldest, was not a leader. Parvati had always taken charge, dove into situations headfirst like the Gryffindor she'd become. It was amazing to believe they all thought she'd be in Hufflepuff. She was headstrong, stubborn, loyal, but it was easy to be brave when there was nothing to fear.
Parvati wasn't a Gryffindor. Not anymore…
Parvati squeezes her sister's hand, Padma squeezes back.
You're not alone, Ati. You've never been alone.
oOo
Their cousin, Divya meets them. She's wearing a colorful shall and wraps her younger cousins in a hug.
"Oh, you're so old now!" she says. Divya is twenty-five and it makes Parvati bristle. Padma is grinning politely when she pulls back.
"How is Auntie Chhaya?" she asks warmly. Parvati is gathering their things, letting Divya link arms with Padma. She's not in the mood now, the perceived slight has soured her mood.
The air is warm, and when she exists the ministry she lets the sun warm her face. She hasn't been to India since she was fourteen, just before the incident at the world cup. It'd been the last time they'd been safe.
It was funny how much had changed after that.
"Times will be bad again," her father said. He was normally a stoic man. He was warm and friendly, but he was a public official, and his calm mask was like a pillar of the family. Nothing really shook him before that article. He looked at his daughters, the fear evident. "You cannot take unnecessary risks anymore. You don't know who you can trust anymore."
She follows her sister and cousin through the streets. Divya had written and said they'd take a portkey, just like the last time. Lavender had always been jealous of these trips.
"One day we'll go together," Lavender had said on the train, biting the head off a chocolate frog she'd just unwrapped. "You can show me everything."
Parvati's heart twists.
She sees scars on Lavender's smiling face and she sucks in a breath. Despite the crowd, Padma turns to give her sister a worried look. Divya says in Indian that she worries about her, and Padma nods.
Parvati feels small and weak, so she turns away.
Auntie Chhaya grabs them hard, peppering her faces with kisses. Chhaya is their mother's sister, and Nani, their mother's mother, is cooking at the stove and drops the spoon to kiss them.
"My grandbabies," she whispers, tears in her eyes as she looks at them hungrily, taking in all the changes of their fourteen year old selves to now. They're nineteen now, and it's unreal to think about that.
They eat biryani and homemade naan bread. Their mom and grandmother always cook food like this, but neither girl could explain why it tastes so much better.
The table is full of cousins, aunties, uncles, and they all talk over one another. Parvati feels attacked, but Padma takes the reigns.
Padma had always been the shy one, now she doesn't have the luxury.
When the meal is done, Parvati tries to do the dishes but is banished to the living room by Nani.
"We have so much to talk about, my brave girl," she says as she pats her hand, leading her outside.
The view is breathtaking. The grass is bright green, and it contrasts the perfect blue of the sky. She sees the water, and the air smells so good, like warmth and spices. It smells like home, her childhood, happiness…
It fills her up as she sits beside the frail woman. She takes the yarn Nani offers. It makes her smile. It's such a muggle thing, to help her wind the yarn and talk.
"I am so sorry about your friend," Nani says after a few moments of silence. Parvati looks at the yellow of the yarn, tears biting her eyes. "I can't imagine what you must feel right now, after all that. You are such a brave girl."
I'm not… She wants to say. It's at the tip of her tongue, but she can't say it.
"I have seen war, Parvati. We have lost good people to it," she says quietly, then the pauses and puts the ball of yarn in her lap. "Time doesn't heal all wounds, but time will make it bearable."
Parvati doesn't take her eyes off the yarn on her hands, but she feels that flicker of anger. She hated these talks: Time will make things better, she's in a better place, she's at peace.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
Nani lifts her chin, and Parvati sees tears in her Nani's eyes as she wipes the ones that slipped down her cheeks.
"You don't have to be afraid to be sad, my girl. You are safe here."
oOo
They take her body away on a stretcher. Parvati had screamed, but Dean had held her close, trying in vain to soothe her.
Parvati logically knew why. They couldn't have the bodies laying around, to potentially be used or tossed aside, disrespected by deatheaters and the like.
The bodies are piled. There's no other way to describe it, and there was nothing else to do. She can hear people asking where Harry is. She can feel the tension, the sorrow, and she's crying for Lavender to come back, to give her a minute. Padma grabs her shoulders.
"The battle isn't over, Parvati. Please!" she says sternly, shaking her sister.
Parvati cries, and Padma makes her stand with Dean and Seamus's help. "I'm so sorry, but I can't lose you, too."
Parvati looks back behind her as they leave. She can't see Lavender. There will never be a later, or a tomorrow. Lavender is gone, snuffed out like a candle. When the war is done, she is numb.
Voldemort is dead, but so is Lavender.
There is no peace there. Only darkness.
