October, 2016
Chapter 7: Upside Down
"Distance gives us a reason to love harder."
― Unknown
Hazel remembered an old show that Jack used to tell her about, depicting muggles stuck in an alternate universe where everything was not quite right. The Twilight Show, or something. As she stared out the window of somewhere in Iceland, the young witch felt like she'd somehow entered a parallel universe. It was the only explanation for the series of events that led to Paris. Stranger still, today marked the second month since that fateful day.
Pale yellow and oranges crept over the snow capped ridges, reflected against the dark lake beside the manor. Although it seemed too early for anyone to be awake, Hazel still found it difficult to sleep through the night, occasionally waking to streaks of green light and blank eyes, images burned into her mind's eye. Sometimes she'd see flashes of a certain pair of mismatched eyes watching her leave...Green light flashed in front of her, striking Markus in the chest. His face, unusually serious, seemed to smooth out, to empty of emotion as Hazel desperately ran towards him. She was too late. Hazel was barely aware of the scream that ripped from her throat, the resulting flash of spells directed at Kes, the roar of the blue flames around them. For what felt like eternity, she could only sob against the still warm chest of one of her dearest friends, all but family. Markus was dead. Gone, seemingly murdered by one of her best friends. Jack's determined expression filled her mind's eye as he lifted his wand to protect his friends, the flash of green, the - As the familiar pang in her chest became too painful to ignore, Hazel pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes until colorful spots filled her vision. Her hands and cheeks grew damp as Hazel silently mourned how much had changed, how much had been lost. Her life had been flipped upside down, and she wasn't sure how to fill the aching hole in her chest.
After Paris, the Corre and Ridgeway were kind in their shared grief. She thought they'd be upset at her defense of Kes, particularly after Jack threw that fateful spell, but they made it clear they didn't blame her...even if they should. If she hadn't brought Kes, if she hadn't kept it secret…Over the first few days, she cried more than what seemed humanly possible, but was thankful for the small community that had formed in the manor, a shared connection through loss and so much more. The edges of her lips lifted in a small smile as she traced the glass panel, remembering Mason's kindness after she had read about Kes's hospitalization (and the lack of mention of Jack and Tim). In that moment, Hazel had never been more thankful for his Slytherin tendencies, as the wizard simply handed her a tissue, facing away to keep the attention off of her puffy eyes and red face. It was just like Markus to draw people together, even in his death, the young witch smiled to herself. With a small wave, Hazel conjured the small ash butterfly; it fluttered around her before settling on the tip of her wand. With his notes, it'd been fairly easy to put all her energy into mastering the spell, his spell. Now, she could do it nonverbally. In a way, the delicate, short-lived creature of ash was almost ironic in its existence; however, Hazel much preferred to think of Leon, as the phoenix had risen from the ruins of the boat, from the ruins of the tragedy that led to Markus's death to begin with.
With a small stretch, Hazel pulled herself off the seat before padding softly towards the kitchen. It was clear she wasn't going to return to sleep, peaceful or not, so she may as well do something productive, something she hadn't done since Hogwarts. It was a new day, right? To her surprise, there were some people already milling about the manor; she waved to Carlie and Ben, who were sipping hot drinks and talking in quiet voices by the downstairs fireplace, and passed a small group watching a seemingly intense game of wizards' chess. It was nice, seeing some of the world move forward as if it had never been broken to begin with though she knew the peace - if you could call it that - was fleeting, Hazel tried to appreciate these little moments as they happened. She supposed it made the hard times a bit easier, having good memories to draw upon when the dark felt suffocating.
The witch entered the kitchen with bare feet, still dressed in cotton pajamas and a plain robe. At her entrance, several house elves glanced in her direction as a familiar voice greeted her. "How can Mitsy helps you today, mistress Hazel?" The elf popped into being beside her, and Hazel smiled. Though mellowed over time, Hazel still remembered when the house elf had been particularly exuberant, having once woken Professor Cunningham by jumping repeatedly on his chest. "If it's not too much trouble, could you get me the materials to make chocolate chip cookies?" Hazel asked softly, still smiling, "I think I'd like to pick up baking again, if only for a little while." With a quick snap and an "of course, mistress", the elf easily conjured a plethora of ingredients and pots and pans that appeared on an empty counter to their right.
As Hazel measured and stirred and kneaded, she was only vaguely aware of her own, quiet humming or the occasional whispers from the elves behind her. She'd forgotten how calming baking could be, or how it allowed the brunette to simply make without having to think or feel or choose. Now, as a confused and grieving 17-year-old 'adult' witch, baking was a simple thing in a world that had become all too complicated. As she added the vanilla extract, she pushed away the thoughts that threatened to break her moment of peace, the unhelpful reminders. Yes, she was baking her sister's favorite dessert. Yes, it was Esther's birthday, but that did not mean she was baking these for her, half a world away. Shaking her head lightly, as to not alarm the surrounding house elves, Hazel tried her best to bask in the moment, in the simplicity of baking cookies. It made everything else a bit easier...or so she hoped.