Dead.

Dead, as in the act of dying. The end of life. The total and permanent cessation of all vital functions of an organism.
Dead, as in no longer living. Deprived of life.
Dead.

I wasn't aware of anything but the sound of the phoenix, Fawkes, making that sad, slow, cooing. Mourning. Mourning over someone he didn't even know.
Stupid bird. Stupid, dumb, fat, red bird.

I wasn't aware of anything else in that office. I felt disconnected, as if someone had turned off the emotions inside of me, rendering me cold and frigid. Blank. Empty.

If I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't feel the pain.

I was on autopilot as I walked past Dad, who was still and crying into his hands. Past McGonagall, who said something I didn't hear and didn't care about. I found my way back into the Ravenclaw Common Room and packed my few belongings. I brought the enchanted suitcase down to the entrance of the castle. Professor Dumbledore awaited me, my father standing at his side. My father gave a small, watery smile, but his red eyes betrayed how he really felt.

"My greatest condolences, Miss Harkstone," Professor Dumbledore said, looking as sorrowful as my father. "It is never easy losing a younger sister."

"You would know?" I said, my voice monotone, robotic. Not mine.

The Headmaster patted my shoulder. "Hogwarts looks forward to your return in the fall."

I nodded once. Four whole months away from this place.

Four whole months at home.

A sharp pang twisted in my gut. I grimaced at the pain. I didn't want to leave this place. I didn't want to go back to the farmhouse, where one of the rooms would be empty. Where the silence would be deafening. Where grief overruled everything else.

I didn't want to go.

Dad picked up my charmed suitcase and walked wordlessly out of the castle by my side. He sniffled every few seconds, wiping his nose with his left sleeve every minute. He slowed to match my pace all the way down to Hogsmeade.

"How are we getting back?" I asked tonelessly. 'Home' didn't seem like an appropriate noun anymore.

"I drove." Dad said, jangling a set of keys. "The old blue truck. The Ford."

"Oh."

Dad placed the luggage in the bed of the powder-blue truck. "I thought it would be better than a Portkey or the Floo Network."

I climbed into the front seat, the cracked tan leather scraping the back of my thighs. I was still wearing my school clothes. I loosened the blue and bronze tie and placed it on the space beside me. Then I wrapped the soft fabric around and around my palm, pleating and folding it.

Dad turned the key in the ignition. The truck coughed and refused to start. Dad cursed so violently that I stared at him, wide-eyed, as if seeing him for the first time.

Dad shook his head, biting his lower lip. I noticed that he had facial hair, as if he hadn't shaved in awhile. "You look and talk like a homeless bum."

Dad shut his eyes. "I'm sorry, Amber. I can't…"

Silent, I pulled out my wand and waved it once. "Initium."

The car roared to life.

Dad blinked. "Where on earth did you learn that spell?"

"In the Restricted Section." I confessed without missing a single beat. "Lesser Known Spells for Muggle Interactions, James Brown."

Dad turned a knob on the faceplate of the stereo. The Beatles filled the cabin of the truck as Dad rolled down the dirt roads. It wasn't as grand of a journey as the Hogwarts Express, but I didn't care about that. I didn't care about anything.

"What were you doing in the Restricted Section?" Dad asked after ten minutes.

"Reading."

He sighed. "I got this car from the Ministry as a present for fifteen years in service to them. They never told me that spell for starting it. I guess I never thought of such a simple spell to get this thing going."

"That's why I'm a Ravenclaw and you were a Hufflepuff."

A muscle jerked in Dad's cheek, but he didn't say a word. Instead he turned up the volume so that the windows vibrated with the sound waves. I swallowed against the persistent dryness in the back of my throat. I thought of what my friends and what Remus and Lily would be doing right now. If McGonagall told them. If they cared that I was gone.

Of course they cared.

I leaned my forehead against the humming glass, watching the Grampian Mountains slowly pass by as Dad navigated the truck through old country roads. I forced myself to think about anything but home.

Manticores are charm-repelling creatures with human faces, lion's bodies, and scorpion's tails. They are capable of human speech.

The Patronum Charm is the most famous and one of the most difficult charms in the wizarding world. It protects against lethifolds and dementors.

An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can morph themselves into an animal at will. This is a learned skill, unlike Metamorphagus, who are born with the ability.

The House of Ravenclaw is known for their intelligence, creativity, wit, wisdom, originality, individuality, and acceptance.

I shut my eyes tightly. Virginia wasn't dead. She couldn't be. There was some kind of mistake. Or a cruel joke.

But the truth lay like a heavy stone in my stomach. It pressed down on my heart like the crushing weight of the lake on the floor of sand and stone it covered. She was dead. She was gone.

No. No no no. She couldn't be. She wasn't.

The House of Gryffindor is known for their nerve, chivalry, courage, daring, willpower, and bravery.

Why couldn't I be both Houses? Why did I have to choose?

Accept that your sister is dead. You are a Ravenclaw.

I slowly opened my eyes. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall.

I'm not just a Ravenclaw. I'm a Gryffindor, too.

I took a deep breath. My sister was dead.

She was dead, and I knew it.

A gaping hole opened up in my chest, raw and burning and all-consuming. I closed off my eyes and ears to the world, shutting out the truck, shutting out Dad, shutting out everything but the face of my blonde, sweet sister, who had fought so hard for so long and was now finally at peace.

She was gone, but she wouldn't be forgotten.

I am accepting. And I am brave.

The truck rolled to a stop just after noon. The hens were pecking at the dirt, scratching for grubs and worms. Little yellow and brown puffs of feathers huddled under them. Chicks. Pink buds burst into blossoms on the trees. Bees buzzed around, pollinating every flower they could smell.

Spring was in full swing.

How ironic, how much life there was, when death covered the little yellow farmhouse like a burial shroud.

Dad cleared his throat as he killed the engine. "I'll be inside with your mother."

I nodded once. When I spoke, my voice was hoarse, like I hadn't used it in years. "Where is she?"

"With your sister. She… went here. She was fine one day and then the next morning…" He couldn't finish.

My throat swelled shut with unshed tears. I left my suitcase behind and walked into the barn alone. Soren would be arriving tonight. He would nest here, out where the air was fresh and the prey plentiful.

One of the horses was in his stall. He munched his hay noisily, fixing his liquid brown eyes on me.

"Hey, James Dean." I said softly, stroking his white blazed nose. He was a big red gelding. I had helped Dad deliver him six years ago.

People were born. People died.

I saddled him up while he ate his hay. I tore off my flowing black robes, revealing my plain Muggle attire beneath. The same I had worn last night.

Last night. The Shack. The Vow. It seemed so long ago, a different place and time. I rubbed my right arm, where the vow had been sealed into me. Maybe if I blurted out the truth to James Dean, I would die, too. Just like that.

Coldness seeped into my flesh. No. I couldn't ever think like that. Virginia wouldn't have wanted it that way. Life was meant to be celebrated, not mourned.

So why did I feel so terrible?

I swung up onto the back of James Dean and guided him out of his stall. The chickens scattered from his hooves, clucking to their chicks in warning. The field of waving green grass beckoned me. I dug my heels into James Dean's sides, who reared back slightly and galloped forth. The ground disappeared in a green blur beneath me. The wind played with the long tendrils of my hair. Tears streamed from my eyes as the sweet aroma of spring filled my senses. Flowers, so many flowers. Virginia loves flowers.

Loved.

I realized then that she would never again leave cut flowers arranged in a glass vase in the center of the kitchen table. Never again would she walk down the stairs in her pajamas and inquire about breakfast. Never again would she spend one day a week with the town healer. Never again would she and Naomi and I get dressed up together for church or a wedding. Never again would I hear her soft voice, see her sky-blue eyes filled with silent appreciate and awe for the little things in life. Never again would I talk to my sister or feel her arms around me in a hug.

She was gone. And I would never get her back.

I was crying quietly, dignified, the way I knew people cried at funerals. But the more I thought of Virginia and how I'd never see her again or talk to her again, the real pain pushed forth, like a wounded animal breaking free of a trap. James Dean slowed to a stop in a beautiful field of wildflowers. I jumped off and collapsed, screaming. I sobbed so hard I couldn't breathe. Water poured from my eyes and my nose. I curled on my side, letting the grief out and honoring the horrible truth.

Virginia was dead.

Dead.

When James Dean had eaten his fill of grass and I had hiccupped myself into silence, I rode him back to the farmhouse to face my family. The sky was dimming, the first star glimmering near the full moon, but I doubted my parents would notice my absence.

The full moon. My heart squeezed. Remus. He was going to transform tonight. Somewhere, seventy or so miles from here, his skin was literally turning itself inside out, letting the beast within burst free.

I clenched my hand into a fist. How painful must that be? All alone, with absolutely nothing to dull the pain or ease the transformation? I felt sympathy for him, helpless to do anything but feel worse than bad.

I cleaned off James Dean and hung up his saddle with the others. After a moment, I decided the barn was filthy and the most important thing to do, more than anything, was to clean it. I dusted, brushed, swept and mucked. I organized every piece of tack and supply that lived in the barn. I cooped up the chickens and cupped each tiny chick in my palm, listening to them peep and squeak. One of them, a little white one, like a snowball, yawned and fell asleep in my hands.

I sat out in the clean barn until the cold mountain air made it impossible to sit still without shivering. Placing the baby chicken carefully beside its mother, I locked up the barn and plodded into the farmhouse. The full moon illuminated the path in bright silver light. I retrieved my suitcase from the bed of the truck, wondering how Remus was doing.

Inside, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting warmth throughout the bungalow. Dad sat on the couch, a book splayed open on his lap, but he was staring into the flames, unseeing. I left my shoes by the side on a black tray and went upstairs.

I didn't want to do it, but I knew I needed to. I needed to see Virginia's room. I left the suitcase in my doorway and walked down the creaking hall. I poked my head in Naomi's room. Toys and books were scattered across the floor on the flower-printed rug. She was nowhere to be seen.

Heart pounding, I pushed open the door to Virginia's bedroom. I gasped, clapping a hand to my mouth as tears sprang to my eyes.

She lay on her bed, still and white. Her waifish body was bathed in the silvery light of the moon, which streamed in through her window, the curtains pushed aside. She wore her blue pajamas, the matching top and bottom with yellow rubber duckies printed on them. Virginia's white-blonde hair was spilling out of her messy bun. She looked so peaceful, so serene, that I half-expected her to rise sleepily and ask what time it was.

Thirty-seconds ticked by and she didn't move. Her chest did not rise or fall. I knew in my heart that she was gone. That this wasn't really her. It was just a shell of who she used to be.

I entered the room quietly, as if walking on holy ground. Virginia didn't stir. At her bedside, I reached down and touched her arm softly. I flinched back. She was cold. Cold as snow.

She really was dead.

I studied her face. She was no longer in the clutches of her illness, which had plagued her for almost her entire life. Virginia was free. She was in a better place now. Even though it hurt, hurt so bad, and I didn't understand why she had to leave, I felt the first flutter of peace.

The last thing I had said to her was 'I love you'. Virginia had died knowing that I cared about her. That I loved her. Even though I hadn't gotten to say goodbye, in a way, I had.

That was more than I could have asked for.

I moved to slip my hand into hers, but noticed, for the first time, a slumped-over figure spread over my sister. I drew back, repulsed.

"Mum?"
The figure lifted her head slowly. She had been sleeping against the bed, bent forward, her hand in Virginia's. Her long brown hair was tangled and unkempt. She blinked several times, her eyes puffy and swollen. She squinted at me, her blue eyes – Virginia's eyes – startling against the contrast of red, where he eyes used to be white.

If I thought Dad looked terrible, Mum looked downright hellish.

I took another step back. "Mum."

Mum's eyes wandered around the room. Seeing nothing. Registering nothing.

The lights were on, but no one was home.

"Mum." I repeated. "Mum, can you hear me?"

"I need to be with your sister." Mum mumbled, brushing back a tendril of brown hair, which had come loose from its front braid. "I need to be with her."

Something was off. I could sense that Mum had been standing on the precipice of something high and dangerous, and that somehow, Virginia's passing had pushed her over the edge. I took another careful step back. It reminded me of when I had encountered the coyote in the field behind the house back in September, when Romulus had defended me.

There was no one to defend me now. I had to protect myself.

"Mum, where is Naomi?" I asked carefully.

Mum blinked owlishly. "I don't know."

She turned and fixed those horrible eyes on me. She didn't even look like my mother anymore. She looked like something that had clawed its way through a grave, through a nightmare. "Why are you here?"

I swallowed. "Because I live here."

Mum turned and focused on Virginia's body. She stroked a tender hand down my sister's cheek. "No, you don't."

My heart pounded in my chest. I wished I wasn't under the same roof as her. I wished I was back in Hogwarts, waiting to help Remus when he returned to his real self. The only monster tonight was the one sitting in a chair in front of me.

"You don't live here." Mum repeated. "You don't matter."

My throat closed. Fighting tears, I slowly closed the door. "Colloportus," I whispered, sealing her inside.

I walked back downstairs, shaken, pretending I could dislodge what I had just seen. "Dad."

Dad didn't move.

Panic made my palms sweat and my heart race. "Dad."

Dad looked over, sallow-faced. But sane.

Slightly relieved, I cleared my throat. "Where's Naomi?"

Dad sighed, rubbing his temples. "With your grandparents. They're coming by tomorrow for the funeral."

For the funeral. My chest squeezed tight.

"Thanks." I said, going back upstairs to my room. I sealed that door as well. I didn't want my mother coming in later, for any reason.

I sat on the edge of my bed, listening to the silence of the house. If Virginia were alive, it wouldn't have been much different. But I would have known she was in the other room, reading or sleeping. Breathing. Alive.

Instead, her body lay like an empty husk on her bed. With our mother refusing to let her go, even in death.

Seventy-three people were present at Virginia's funeral. I counted them as they filed in, dressed in various black clothes. Some women wore veils. Others wore heels. Many wore dresses. The men all wore tuxedos.

My father's parents did not say much. Naomi walked in with them, looking lost and confused. I went to her quickly, exhaling with relief when she ran into my arms. She clung to me tightly, shaking. "Amber."

"I'm here, Ny. It's okay." I pulled back, trying to smile for her, trying to be brave. Her huge green eyes were filled with tears.

"Is she really gone?" Naomi whimpered.

I brushed back a lock of her curly brown hair. "Yes, sweetheart. She's gone."

Naomi's lower lip quivered. I enveloped her in a hug again, tears slipping down my cheeks.

"I miss her." Naomi whispered against my neck. "I don't want her to go."

I rubbed her back gently. "I know, Ny."

I caught Dad watching us. His face was blank, expressionless. Then he softened. He looked like he aged a hundred years in an instant. He spoke quietly to his parents then, his gaze diverted away.

I knew where Mum would be. My eyes zeroed in on the front row of chairs, and sure enough, there was our mother, planted in a chair, leaning forward, eyes only for the open casket, where our sister's body lay.

Members of our family and my parents' friends moved in a slow procession to the casket and then to their chairs. Naomi sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"I want to see her." She said quietly.

I nodded once. "Are you sure?"

Naomi took my hand and dutifully walked toward the front of the church. I had to slow down my pace to match hers, which I didn't mind. The stained glass windows let rainbow-colored light pour in, the multi-colored sunbeams touching patches of the church to spots of heaven.

I inhaled softly. Virginia was there now, in Heaven. She was in a better place. My heart ached for her, but part of me still felt numb. Felt as if everything was being subdued.

I knew eventually the full brunt of the pain would come. But not now. Not today.

I had to be strong for Naomi. For the rest of my family.

"Come on, love," I encouraged quietly as we neared the coffin, "almost there."

Naomi wobbled closer. She took a hesitant step up, and then looked down at our sister. I followed her gaze into the casket.

Virginia looked as peaceful as she did yesterday. A small smile was on her face. Her lips had been painted with rouge, her eyes done-up with mascara and kohl. She had never worn make-up before, but now, she would be buried in it.

Her blonde hair had been curled and arranged into a soft pile on her head. She wore a powder-blue dress that she had worn once, to our aunt's wedding last summer. Tears rose at the memory.

"You're wearing her necklace that she gave you." Naomi observed. "It looks pretty."

I thought about what she said. Then I unclasped the opal necklace and started to put it around Virginia's neck instead.

Naomi caught my arm, surprising me. Her green eyes were boring into mine. "No."

"Naomi, I want her to have it. It belongs with her."

Naomi shook her head. "She gave it to you. Remember? It was a gift." She sniffled. "If you don't want it, I do. It's a part of her."

Heart squeezing at her words, I gently pulled back the necklace and fastened it back around my own neck. It rested against my sternum, the pale green jewels glittering like the moon.

"She wanted you to have it." Naomi said solemnly. "It looks pretty."

Throat tight again, I clasped Naomi's hand and pulled a pink rose bud from the pocket of my dress. I laid it in the flaxen tresses of Virginia's hair, and gently brushed my index finger against it. The little pink flower opened like a many-lipped oyster.

"She'd like that." Naomi commented. "She liked flowers."

I squeezed her tiny hand, so small in my own. "I know, Ny."

Naomi blew Virginia a kiss. "I love you, Ginny." Looking sad, she turned and guided me away from the casket.

"I love you too, Virginia." I added as I let my sister lead me away from the chairs, which were filling quickly. She led me to the back of the church and up the stairs to the second floor. She sat down on the place normally reserved for the choir singers. Up here, we could look down on everyone.

"I like this spot." I said quietly, watching a speck of dust float by, glowing white in the sunlight.

Naomi nodded once, looking down at the casket. From here, Virginia looked asleep. Like this was just a dream she was sleeping through.

"I like it because this is how she sees us." Naomi explained, untying one of the green ribbons in her hair and letting it float to the floor. "From Heaven. She's an angel now."

It was a reminder that this wasn't a dream after all. This was real. Virginia wasn't laying down there in the soft folds of white silk; she was somewhere else completely, somewhere none of us had ever been.

"Are you afraid of dying?" Naomi asked, leaning against me. "Do you think Virginia was?"
I watched Mum fold in on herself. Even from here, I could hear her weeping. The pastor began his eulogy, one of our aunts gently playing the piano behind him. Sniffles punctuated the air. Below us, people grieved over someone who wasn't with us anymore. Someone who was freed from her suffering and her pain. Someone who had been our beloved sister for ten years.

I put an arm around Naomi's shoulder, bonding us close together. "I'm not afraid, because I believe in love. Virginia is safe."

"But we aren't happy." Naomi said as Mum let out a keening wail.

I hugged my remaining sister close, promising then to never let any harm come to her that I could prevent. I would save her. Virginia would have wanted us to come together, not apart. Not splitting at the seams like Mum.

"Love is patient, love is kind," I said, echoing the pastor, who spoke in spite of Mum's distended grief, "it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." I pulled my little sister close. "Love never fails."
Naomi was silent, watching the pastor finish Virginia's eulogy. Four of our uncles rose to bear her coffin outside. Dad said she was going to buried in the backyard, under a willow tree. Mum wanted her close by. Even though she wasn't really there anymore.

"I'm going to miss her." Naomi murmured as the funeral procession filed out of the church doors. "I hope she knows that."

I felt a little piece of my heart leave with the coffin. I touched the opal necklace softly, committing Virginia to memory. Vowing to never forget her, or her life, and how it shaped mine. Promising to always carry this little part of her with me. For the rest of my life.
"She knew, Ny. She knew."