Chapter 32 - Flight of the Thestral


Minerva told the aurors to take her to Gryffindor Tower. They laid her in a four poster bed and the aurors left her with Kingsley who attempted to revive Lizzie, but she didn't have the energy to move the face muscels needed to even open her eyes.

"Get some rest," he said kindly. Lizzie reached for his arm.

"Bury him..." she said in a small voice. He looked confused.

"Bury him in his father's grave, in Little Hangleton. Don't tell anyone where. He doesn't deserve a headstone," she continued. Her voice was weak and Kingsley nodded.

"We'll talk later, get some rest, Lizzie," he said, and the door clicked shut behind him.


"No!" Lizzie shrieked and took several quick steps backward from the bathtub.

"Bloody hell, Lizzie, honey, it's not hot," James said with exasperation in his voice.

"No..." Lizzie whimpered, eyeballing the water apprehensively.

"Lily! Please help!" Her father yelled through the wooden bathroom door. The knob was jammed and he groaned, lit a cigarette, and slumped down in exhaustion.

"No, Jamie, it's your turn! I can't with her and the tubs," Lily yelled back. Lizzie looked into her small reflection in the water. "Put out the cigarette!" Lily yelled as an footnote and he rolled his eyes.

"Scotch then, please for the love of God, Lily, we've been in here for an hour, I can't get her in the tub," he pled and heard her stomp off down the hallway. He looked over at his daughter and saw her sitting in the tub.

"Lizzie," he chuckled weakly, but she started crying and he got on his knees with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in front of the tub.

"I don't like the water," she said wading her small hands across timidly, her face bubbling up in a cry.

"It won't hurt you," he said softly.

"Yes it will," she whispered. Her mother opened the door with an entire bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"Oh my God, how did you manage?" She said, mouth open and impressed, untwisting the cap, but bypassing the cup to take a swig. She looked exceptionally tired and run through the mill. They both did.

Her dad poured a glass. "Lily, go to bed baby, I got this," he said, and kissed the side of her face.

"Uh huh.." she retorted sarcastically but leaned forward and gave Lizzie a kiss on the head. "Love you, sweetie, goodnight," she said and planted one more fat kiss on her cheek that sounded like a raspberry. Lizzie giggled.

Her father rested his head on the ledge of the bathtub and moved the water around gently. "Can I put soap in your hair?" He asked innocently.

"No," Lizzie said shortly and frowned.

"Ok, fair, just don't tell mommy," he surrendered. "You know, Tabitha doesn't like water either. Maybe in a past life you were a cat," he said pointing to the orange tabby cat pacing on the sink counter.

He moved to take a washcloth to her arms and Lizzie hissed like a cat. James belly laughed and she giggled in return.

"You know I got your mom to fall for me by rather deliberately pushing her off a dock and into a lake and then diving in after her?" He said.

"Why would you drownded mommy?" Lizzie asked. He smirked.

"I didn't drown her, silly. She was so mad she splashed water at me until I crawled out back onto the dock. She yelled that she didn't need saving by the likes of a prat like me... but all good fun," he chuckled fondly and splashed water at Lizzie who immediately rubbed her eyes astounded. She splashed him back and he wiped a hand down his face laughing. "That a girl," he said and a battle of wills erupted until she was running starch naked with dripping hair down the hall while he chased her with a towel.

He scooped her into a ball and wrapped her in tight before sitting on a chair in her bedroom. She pressed the side of her face against his heart and listened.

"When can I outside?" She asked. He sighed, rubbed the towel over her head to dry her hair, and kissed her forehead.

"I wanna be a bird," she said as she stared out of the window.

"You'll fly, baby, I promise... I promise you'll fly," he whispered into her head and rocked her to sleep in his arms.


Lizzie woke in the Gryffindor dormitory and wasn't sure how long she had been asleep. When she sat up she found the cuffs again around each of her wrists that would prevent the use of magic, but she could still freely move her arms and wasn't restrained. She was wearing a large night shirt that didn't quite hit her knees and nothing else.

Her heart rate picked up a little at the pretense of the situation as she tried to see how much damage she'd incurred. She was in a remarkably little amount of pain compared to what she expected, but the long line down the side of her face and neck was deeper than she anticipated.

The door was locked and she felt trapped. She sat on the floor with her back to the door, and pressed the crown of her head against it. She closed her eyes around the final image of killing him, forever seared into her soul and sighed with deep, trembling relief.

Lizzie heard footsteps on the stairwell and backed up away from the door and back onto the bed as it unlocked.

Charlie entered.

"They still think I'm a criminal?" She asked, holding up her hands. He sighed, closed the door and set a cup of coffee down on the table.

"I told them not to do that," he said apologetically. "Kingsley just wants to get details," he added. "Are you feeling alright?" He sat down in a chair beside the bed and reached for her face. Lizzie winced at the touch and he retracted it cautiously. He could still see the outline of the bruise from several nights ago.

"What happened... after?" Lizzie asked to divert from the awkward silence.

"The remaining aurors tried to round up the death eaters who hadn't vanished. Some surrendered either pretending an imperious had just broken or perhaps it really had... you..." he explained. "You collapsed. When you showed signs of life, they took you away in these cuffs. We were furious but they said it was out of an abundance of caution because of the prophecy..." he continued. "Poppy has been tending to you."

"That explains the overall lack of pain, she's a miracle worker," Lizzie said.

"The prophecy isn't going to come true. It was projecting that I would kill him, but because I was...him... and would have been the final piece anchoring his soul to the earth, I would have ascended to something more sinister than he was. He would have immediately come back through me. But he killed that piece before I killed him, that's why I went - I was trying to get him to kill me. I gambled that he would and didn't think he would try to do what he did... I'm sorry..." she explained.

"How did you survive then?" Charlie asked.

"It's complicated. How is everybody?" Lizzie asked.

"Remus is still recovering. Ron and Hermione are not seriously injured, neither are Ginny or George. Percy is in shock. Fred and Tonks are...gone..." his voice broke at the end.

"Neville and some of your other friends are being tended to for some bad injuries. There was a total of fifty who died... including a few professors and several students from the DA, at least half the aurors, few casualties from the villiage who came to help, and most of what remained of the Order. Mum and dad aren't injured..." he continued. He watched her face clench in pain and she buried it in her hands. "It's not your fault. You ended this. All of us would have been dead in that courtyard if you hadn't..." he insisted, squeezing her hands tight in his. "You ended it. He's gone..." he reassured her.


When Kingsley came back, Lizzie went over the details she could muster, and she was released from the loose custody when he was convinced she was not an idle threat.

Charlie stayed with her that night, Lizzie didn't care to leave the room or engage with anyone. She just wanted the warmth he offered and fell asleep in the crook of his arm with her head pressed into his heart. The moon was high which meant Remus was likely somewhere in the forest, but Lizzie felt an intense urge to wander the castle at night. She sat up in the bed, pulled a jumper over her shoulders, and pants over her knickers. Charlie stirred and groggily asked where she was going.

Lizzie kissed his forehead and then his mouth tenderly. "Just air," she whispered and left into the common room and down to the courtyard. She walked the line of still bodies in the white sheets and felt tremendously guilty for the losses they sustained. When she stepped into the courtyard where the final battle ensued, she stared back at the thestral. In her pocket was the elder wand, the Resurrection stone, and the cloak. She pulled the wand and wondered what it meant to be master of something most feared most. Lizzie cast a patronus to see if she could still muster the love and joy needed to do so after such a bloody battle.

It wasn't prongs that emerged from her wand. It was a thestral. It soared once around the courtyard and then bowed to her. The real thestral ahead did the same and the story Luna's dad told her about the three brothers being thestral farmers came to the forefront of her mind. Like the creatures, she'd be stuck in between the realm of life and death.

Lizzie mounted the creature and took off vertically into the air. It soared over the castle and over the lake lit only by the moon. When it skimmed the surface of the water she inhaled a deep breath and dove in. When she surfaced, she stared back at her father wading in front of her, staring back at her with kind and prideful eyes.

"I still don't like the water," she said in a small voice.

He smirked. "Are we going to see you on the train or watch you live in peace?" He asked. Lizzie didn't have an answer.

"Dad, right now I just want to fly," she said in a small voice. He smiled wide.

"I love you, Lizzie. You're my pride and joy. You don't need us, baby. You need to be free. The beautiful thing about death is that it's forever, we'll never say goodbye again," he said. Lizzie's eyes were glassy as she kept herself above the water.

She shut her eyes, swore she felt a kiss atop her forehead, but he was gone when she opened them.

Lizzie stood over Dumbledore's grave with the wand and mended hers. Instead of placing it back in Dumbledore's decayed hands, she slippes it back into her pocket.

At the edge of the small island's shore, she summoned Kreacher. He didn't have words for her, but she gave him a sock. "You can live at Grimauld. You can serve your mistress. You're free of me. But... I could use your help; will you help me before we part ways?" She asked. He nodded with veiled admiration for her.


Charlie got up when morning broke and frowned at the empty sheets next to him. He made his way down to the courtyard and the great hall to help with the crew McGonagall assembled to rebuild the school. Ron and Hermione were with her, but Lizzie wasn't in sight.

"Ron, where's Lizzie?" He asked.

"She wasn't up there? We assumed she was still recovering..." he said.

"No... I think she went out for air last night but I was half asleep. She wasn't up there..." he responded nervously.

They set out around the castle and he looked intently out over the lake. There was no sign or sight of her, and not a soul had seen her leave.