Look At Where You Have Left Us
Chapter One
The funeral was short, thank God. George didn't think he could take any more standing around, thinking of all they had lost. She was buried next to their father, in the garden of what had been their house. She would have liked that. She had always loved the garden, being surrounded by the living, breathing things; befriending them. She had had a way with animals, and people for that matter, no one could ever seem to dislike her. She had been pure, angelic. She had been good.
George sat there, staring at her headstone for hours on end. He kept seeing the light leave her eyes, he kept feeling her lifeless body fall into his arms. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he read the engravings for the thousandth time: "Esmerelda Trollad, the most loving and most loved of all". It all seemed greyer to him, the world. Birds had muted their songs, the sky had lessened its blue and people, the things Esmerelda had dealt with so beautifully, had lost their glow. "Come now, George." It was his mother, her voice was strained and cracking, her face raw from tears being rubbed away. "We've got to go." George nodded and stood, he gasped from the pain of his healing wounds. Magic could have seen them away, of course, but the burns that he had suffered whilst holding his sister were all he had left of her. Magic also could have fixed the house, but both mother and son agreed that what had happened there would live on, and neither could cope with being constantly reminded of their loss. George reached out and gently gripped his mothers' arm, and was whisked away.
They now stood in a stone yard, instantly recognisable to those who had been before. Colour suffused the surrounding walls in patters which could transfix the average viewer for days – but for George, they were just as muted as the rest of the world. "Oh, my darlings!" A warm voice called out to them from the house at the end of the yard, and an elderly woman who must not have been a foot taller than a house-elf came rushing out. "Mrs Olsted," Mrs Trollad began with a sad and exhausted smile, "I'm sorry to come so suddenly, but- "
"Don't be absurd, child," Mrs Olsted interrupted with a faint Scottish accent, "it's no trouble at all." She ushered the Trollads into her home and no sooner had she brought them inside, had she made them both cups of hot chocolate, sat them down on an extremely comfortable sofa, and taken what little belongings they had to their rooms upstairs.
"She's the woman who raised me," said Mrs Trollad with a reminiscent smile, "a difficult job, I assure you." George looked to his mother, it was the first time he had seen her smile since that night, and he felt all the better for it. He took a sip of his hot chocolate as he looked around; the room was exceptionally well-kept but simultaneously homely. There were paintings and designs strewn all across what had previously been the white walls of the living room. It was as he was walking along these walls admiring the work that had been done on them, a girl he could never have suspected would be there appeared. Bella Chranic came walking down the stairs, and George almost fainted.
Bella was the smartest and most beautiful girl he had ever met, word was that she could give Hermione Granger a run for her money. They were both coming into their fifth year at Hogwarts, or whatever would be left of it, and they had both fought in the battle against the Death Eaters. Each had saved the others life, but each – unbeknownst to the other – still believed themselves to be indebted. They had barely ever talked in the four years they had known each other but despite this lack of communication, George had managed to embarrass himself an incredible amount of times in front of black-haired, brown-eyed Slytherin. A smile broke across her face when she saw him, "Oh, thank god." She said, her voice slightly musical to George's ears. He was slightly confused about this reaction, and it must have shown on his face, as she explained, "Sorry, but it's just- I could use some help with the dishes around here." This was the last thing George had expected to hear, but hey – at least she wanted him there.
"Um," He began with uncertainty, "I don't mean to seem rude… but, like, what are you doing here?"
"I live here?" Bella replied, confused.
"Oh. I- I didn't know you were related to Mrs- "
Bella let out a tinkling laugh, there was no aggression in it but George felt his face heating up. He didn't like being laughed at. "We're not related." She said with a warm smile as she finished coming down the stairs. When she reached even ground with George, he couldn't help notice he was a head taller than her, that hadn't always been the case. Bella also seemed to notice as her eyes widened a little before she shook her head and continued. "You probably know she's a serial adopter…" At this, George nodded, "well it looks like I'm her latest unofficial victim." The two teens shared a half-hearted chuckle, it was clear there were other matters heavily weighing on each of their minds. An awkward silence descended upon them that both wanted to fill, eventually the more socially apt of the two spoke up: "So, why you here then?" She said, clearly hoping it wasn't for anything too morbid. George was sorry to disappoint. After he finished a summarised version of events, Bella could just stare at him. It was obvious to anyone watching that she was trying to read him, trying to figure out what response he would need from her. He seemed to prove difficult to read, as after a long moment all she could say was, "I'm… so sorry."
"I doubt you're responsible." He said lightly, hoping to relieve some of the building tension, he had no such luck. Bella gave a short laugh but returned to her scrutinising. George noticed she was paying close attention to his eyes, which made him slightly self-conscious as he had been crying virtually non-stop ever since they had killed Esmerelda, and he knew it showed. "You say you were 'adopted'," he began in an effort to take some of Bella's attention off of himself, "how long have you been living here?"
If he had been wishing to lighten the atmosphere, as he had; this was definitely not the best choice. "Ever since my dad was killed," she told him. A bit of steel seemed to rise in her voice as she said this, as well as a fire in her eyes. George took note of all of this, and came to the conclusion she was feeling much the same as him. This, combined with the fact she was talking to him as a person first and a victim second unlike everyone else in his life at that point in time confirmed it. He was a big fan of Bella Chranic.
At this point Mrs Trollad entered the room, something clearly weighing heavily on her. "You ok, mum?" George began cautiously, not knowing what had gotten her this way, "need help taking your stuff to your room?" In response, Mrs Trollad just looked at her son in a way that seemed almost mournful.
"I…" she said slowly, "I'm not staying." George stared at her in shock, what did she mean she wasn't staying? She was the one who had brought them here after all.
"Where are you going?" Was all he could say for fear of his internal sobs coming through in his voice in front of Bella. Indeed, Bella seemed to notice the rising familial tension and stepped swiftly away from the conversation to give them privacy.
"I was one of the ring-leaders in the fight against Voldemort, both times." Mrs Trollad said, "Dumbledore kept that secret. He knew what would happen if it got out. But now it seems that it has." George simply stared at his mother, he had known this of course but it appeared that the thing that had made him so proud of his mother was now driving a wedge between them.
"So, you're just leaving?" Came his reply.
"I'm putting you in danger," there was a pleading element in her voice, "you have to understand that."
"I do!" An unprecedented anger was rising in him now, unbidden, "but as I'm the one being put in danger, I should be the one who decides whether it's worth it or not."
"I'm afraid you don't get to make that choice, dear." Said Mrs Trollad, she reached out a hand and lightly placed her palm on George's cheek. Tears were brimming in her eyes as she gave him a warm, sad smile. Then, turned and walked quickly towards the door, picking up her bags as she went.
A confusing hurricane of feelings brewing inside him, George cried out. "Mum, wait!" Mrs Trollad paused on the doormat and turned slowly, expecting to face a torrent of tormented exclamations from her son, but instead he simply ran to her and gave her the biggest hug imaginable. Tears ran down his face as he whispered "I love you, stay safe." He then released her and stepped back, wiping at his eyes.
It took all the power George had to stand and watch as his mother walked out into the yard. She waited for a second, and the two looked longingly at each other. Then she was gone.
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After a few long days of joint chores, interspersed with getting to know each other, both Bella and George certainly could say they were friends. Good friends, in fact. They just seemed to instantly get along in a way very few did. They were both extremely driven, extremely reckless and extremely damaged individuals. It had been on day three of the two's whirlwind friendship that both of them had laughed a whole-hearted, genuine laugh for the first time since their respective losses. Following this, they had looked at each other for a little while in shock. Both knew what the other was feeling. After what had happened to both teens, they had never felt that they'd ever feel even a small amount of joy again. Both had been dropped off by their one remaining parent who was planning on going on the run alone and who thought this would be the best place for them, rather than by their side. Both had lost so much within such a short space of time.
Mrs Olsted, as her first impressions had indicated, was a kindly woman doing all she could to help others. Unfortunately for her, her efforts to sooth both teenagers about all that had happened were always rejected wholeheartedly as neither wanted to reflect and both wanted to move on. In George's case, he saw his sister every single night in his dreams and so did not want to be reminded of her in his waking hours. Bella was more mysterious. He couldn't figure out what was on her mind in regards to her dead father and missing mother. She came downstairs every morning with a smile on her face and an apparent spring in her step, giving no impression of any sadness whatsoever; but every now and then, George caught her off-guard and saw something in her eyes, a fire of rage and loss he would have never expected from her. He did not raise this, however, because if she was feeling anything like him, he knew she would not want it raised. And so, they wiled away the days until the first of September, when they would both be catching the Hogwarts express and entering their fifth year at the school of witchcraft and wizardry, with chores and games. Though these menial activities gave them a temporary sense of purpose, when the chore was done and the game finished, Bella and George reverted back to their lost, helpless selves. However close they became neither wished to admit to the other that life had lost its meaning and its appeal, for fear of the reaction it would receive. And so, they filled their days with small talk.
"So, you're like a proper Mary Sue then?" Asked George jovially.
"Just because I'm best in the year at potions, defence against the dark arts and ancient runes doesn't make me perfect… Oh wait." Came Bella's sly reply.
"However cocky you get, you'll never beat that Ebsworth kid at charms or transfiguration." George said, with a smile. At this, Bella hit him. "Violence won't make you better at turning a mug into a clock!" He yelled as he used a pillow for protection against her vicious attacks.
"It'll shut you up though!" At this, Mrs Olsted came into the room. The scene she was greeted with brought a slight smile to her face.
"Bella, could you get off him please? Oh yes I'm sure he deserves it." The second came as a response to the girl's assertions. "George, get up for Heaven's sake. You can plump up the cushions." At his protests, the old woman held up her hand, "You could have used any furnishing as a defence, you made your choice." Grumbling good-naturedly, George set to work. Bella was made to go into the kitchen and wash the dishes and, when he had finished plumping up the cushions, George joined her.
Dinner in the Olsted household was always a complicated affair. Though her stature strongly resembled that of a house-elf, Mrs Olsted could not cook for her life, so it was George who was solely responsible for the larger meals the trio ate, though he was often helped by Bella. He had always had a flair and a love for the fine art of cooking and had been taught by his father that the meal one cooks for others was the best reflection of their soul. George had always laughed this off in his youth, but each time he lovingly prepared a dish for his new friends, he knew more and more what his father had meant. When the youth took dinner upon themselves, it was part of the agreement that their guardian had to clear up afterwards, and so this was the arrangement on August thirty-first. When George placed his main course of crispy duck before the women of the house, they both thanked him and Merlin for what promised to be a delicious end to the most eventful summer holiday of all their lives. As all three rolled the meat in pancakes with an assortment of greenery and tucked in, they, unbeknownst to all the others at the table, thought back on what had led them to where they sat. This thought process was halted suddenly when Mrs Olsted spoke up. "I had a letter from your mother today, George." At this, both teenagers looked up eagerly. "She wished you good luck for this coming year at Hogwarts, and said to take your OWLs seriously." She finished relaying this with a warm smile.
"Any mention of where she is?" George asked, hope evident in his voice.
"I'm afraid not, child," Said Mrs Olsted apologetically, "she was clearly worried about the letter being intercepted by Death Eaters." George nodded to himself a little disappointedly as Bella spoke up.
"Did my mum write?" She asked, dreading the answer.
"I'm afraid not dear." It clearly broke the elderly woman's heart to give this reply. Bella nodded curtly and got up, heading into the kitchen. George didn't make to go after her, he had learnt from the past months that she liked to be alone when dealing with difficult matters. He instead sat thinking where his and Bella's mothers may be, what danger they could be in. This was not too positive a train of thought so he began clearing up. "That's my job, dear," came a voice from the dining room.
"Don't worry about it, Mrs Olsted. Least I could do with all you've done for me." He replied warmly.
"No, dear, the least you could do would be nothing," the old woman said as she came shuffling into the kitchen, "now give me those and get yourself to bed." She held up her hand to George's protests, a sort of signature for her, and took the plates from him. Feeling he was now obligated to do so, George headed upstairs to his extremely homely bedroom. He climbed into his single bed and thought of Bella and all she was going through. He wouldn't try to intrude, but if she needed someone he would be there. No, she wouldn't want that. She had friends at Hogwarts who would be there for her. Yeah, she would be fine. With this thought he drifted off to sleep, with a brewing excitement for the next day, despite all he had been through Hogwarts was still Hogwarts
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He ran at the barrier full pelt, and passed through the solid metal into a previously hidden platform. The Hogwarts Express lay there like a steaming, scarlet beast, vibrating with energy, ready to set off at a moments notice. The beauty of it, the nostalgia, he couldn't help but smile. George set off at a jog, pushing a trolley with what little belongings he still possessed strapped to it. He looked back and saw that Bella had come after him, but was now surrounded by her friends. He took a deep breath and headed towards the train, missing the glance she sent his way.
As he walked the length of the train looking for empty compartments, he caught a few of his fellow students staring at him. They must have heard about what had happened to his home… and his sister. He didn't like the way they were looking at him, pity was the last thing he needed right now. It was a constant reminder that there was something to be sad about. He finally understood, to a certain degree, why Harry Potter had hated the spotlight. He found an empty compartment and heaved his trunk onto the luggage rack, he suddenly realised he had never been able to do that before and smiled smugly to himself. He settled himself on the seats opposite his trunk and lent his head against the cold glass of the window. He watched as the platform began to shift past him and those standing on it waved their goodbyes. No goodbyes for him, then. That was fine, as long as his mother was safe. Judging by the looks he had been getting from everyone and the fact he was the only one in his compartment, this year at Hogwarts was looking rather lonely. Just as this thought occurred, however, the door to his compartment slid open and Bella walked in, followed by two of her friends. Having not expected company, George had been sitting in a rather unflattering position and so blushed under the sudden scrutiny. "Hey, George." Said Bella with a smile, mind if we join you? He looked from her to her two friends, Esme and Darcey were their names, they both gave him warm, shy smiles. Bolstered by this lack of judgement, he replied, "Sure thing," and proceeded to help all three girls place their trunks on the luggage rack. Once this was done, Bella took the seat next to him and the two others sat opposite. Therein followed the best journey on the Hogwarts Express George had ever had, with both Esme and Darcey being great to talk to, and Bella exuding a warmth towards him he had never expected once she had been reunited with her long-term friends. His fears had been for nothing. He was content.