DISCLAIMER: Sadly still not mine...
NORMAL
Prelude II
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Guilty of every wrongdoing that happens is not only the one committing it, but also all those, who couldn't prevent it.
Erich Kästner, German author
At the same time that the bushy-haired Hogwarts student finally put away her book to retire for the night, even if she strongly doubted to be able to fall asleep in the hour that still remained till she had to rise again, some miles west a lone figure apparated to the outskirts of a small town in the Scottish Highlands.
He too had been awake for the better part of the night, tossing and turning around in his bed, desperate to ban the faces and thoughts that were hunting him and gain some much needed sleep. But alas sleep hadn't come, just as it hadn't come last night or the night before or even the one before that one. Thinking about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than a few minutes without being awakened by screams, only to realise they were his own.
With the break of dawn he had finally given up and left his bed to wander around his empty apartment trying to find something to keep him occupied till he could go to work. In moments like this he couldn't help but regret to refuse his mothers offer to let him stay in their Knightsbridge house, at least there he would have spent half an hour to tour the house and not just five minutes.
As even a cup of tea and a good book hadn't helped to settle his nerves and accelerate time, he decided that maybe a walk would help. He dressed and apparated into the woods outside of some small village on the very west of the isle of Skye. From where he stood he could see the outermost houses without being seen. It really wouldn't do, to alert some Muggle and have to deal with a bunch of grumpy wizards of the Department of Magical Accidents or Catastrophes, ready to murder him for having them up and out of their beds at 6 o'clock on a Monday morning.
So trying to keep his cover he skirted alongside a few houses till he reached the path he was looking for and started walking at a more relaxed pace, soaking in the tranquillity that could only be found in an empty forest on a chilly morning, concentrating on nothing but the squeaking sound his boots made every time they touched the wet ground.
Nearly an hour and a half later he stepped out of the woods only to me nearly floored by the strong breeze. The sound of the ocean had long been audible, but now, without trees to absorb it, it was something completely different.
He could taste the salt in the air he breathed, feel it on his skin and hear the waves crashing against the cliffs feet under him. By now the forest behind him had fully awakened and even if he couldn't hear a single bird singing, as the stormy sea swallowed every sound, he knew that they were there. Just as he knew without an ounce of doubt that there were animals scurrying around behind him, fish swimming nearly under his feet and insects flying everywhere around him.
It was incredible that after all the gruesome things that had happened in the course of the last year, something as beautiful as this morning with sunrays breaking through the clouds and reflecting themselves in the sea, that opened endlessly in front of him, making it all sparkling and glittering, was still possible. Honestly it was quite kitschy, but that wasn't the point. The point was, that nature was still alive; he was still alive.
Out here, the guilt, which had become his constant companion, was just slightly lighter to bear. Because even if it was still unfair that there were so many people who would have deserved to live more than he did, dozens of people he would have gladly given his life for to save, he was the one to survive and there just had to be a reason why he was spared, while people much more worthy weren't. There simply had to be an ulterior motive behind it, because otherwise, if his survival was just a sequence of lucky coincidences, there was nothing to keep the guilt at bay, nothing holding him back from taking five small steps forward and end it all himself.
He took a deep breath closing his eyes for a short moment, squared his shoulders and spun on his heal appareting back home to get ready for work.
After all, he was Kingsley Shacklebolt, youngest Minister of Magic (even if it was only temporary) in over hundreds years, he had survived so many life-threatening situations in the last years, he sure as hell would also survive this. Things would be hard, hell, things already were hard, but he could fight, he was used to do it anyway and in the end things would go back to how they should and he would finally be able to live a normal life – or at least he hoped so.
