I felt utterly and completely horrid, with a morbid sense of despair and sadness hanging over me. I knew, with everything in me, something was wrong, and I had absolutely no idea what was wrong, and it made me feel much more horrible. I always knew what was going on, what was wrong, what was off with things. But I wasn't and it scared me more than the possibility of failing the NEWTS.
But I couldn't fully dwell on it for I fell asleep and didn't awake until the very next morning. I was feeling horrible, but I needed to see Fred. He was my happy pill and made me euphoric each time we saw each other. So I dressed simply, left my hair alone with a simple headband, and let Clarisse do my makeup. I didn't focus on what she was doing because I as completely out of it, and worried about what was wrong with me, and possibly the world.
We walked to breakfast together, with Clarisse holding me steady and asking worried questions and making sure I didn't fall and cause any more harm to myself. But when we came to the grand hall she let me go and I wandered over to Fred. I unsteadily sat down, and he looked at me worriedly.
"Melissa, are you alright? You look rather queer."
"I'm fine, nothing a little pumpkin juice and sunshine can't fix."
"Only if you're sure."
"Of course I'm sure love."
After I said that a horde of owls flew into the room casting a shadow over our table, and one flew above us dropping a daily prophet onto my plate. Something caught my eye and I stood up, since one owl had dropped something in Fred's juice and spilling it on him, and he needed to get up and wipe it off.
I picked up the prophet before I sat down and stared down at the front page, with a headline of murder scrawled across the top of the page, and stopped. My vision blurred, my throat began to close, I felt my eyes water and everything around me crumbled to around my feet and my world as I knew it was over, and I was all alone. Completely and utterly alone. There was a photo of a house, white with green shutters and a small side porch, with a smoky symbol hovering above it that looked oddly like the symbol he who must not be named would use after causing harm, but it couldn't be, and there, in black white, were my parents pictures, and a caption stating they had been alone at home and attacked, their bodies brutally dismembered and faces marred. Then a picture of the healers magically taking their bodies away under white blankets, a hand with a simple wedding ring falling into the air. I read the article over and over my eyes widening and my body shaking, I was aware of people looking at me and my friends asking what's wrong, when I finally couldn't hold in my screams of anguish.
"No! Lies, lies! No! It's not true, why are they writing these, these lies!" I kept screaming as I crumbled to the floor, my sobs slurring my words and blurring my vision, people surrounded me and attempted to comfort me, but I kicked and screamed.
"Let go! Why doesn't anyone believe me, it's not true! Its not them, my parents can't die! They can't! Somebody do something, please! Please." My screams died down and I was simply whimpering and shaking, as somebody lifted me up. I cried, I was crying. My parents, my mother and father who had taught me everything I knew, who loved me, cared for me, sheltered me, who always kissed me goodbye, and cried at the train station when I left for Hogwarts.
"No, I have to see them! This is a mistake, my parents are home and worried about me believing their dead, they are writing to me as we speak, writing to me and Emma write now, you'll see! You'll see!"
I felt a small hand hold onto mine and saw sky blue, teary eyes looking up at me, and a quivering mouth. I demanded to be put down as I held my sister tight and cried, as the truth finally crashed into my like waves onto the beach, or a tree falling to the earth.
My parents were dead, murdered in their own home, brutally and cruelly, leaving me and my sister to fend for ourselves with no home to go to. We had no other family, our grandparents were dead or in a home, mother was an only child and father, his brother was in Azkaban. He was a death eater and hated us.
I felt my sister shaking as my shoulder began to feel wet as her tears soaked into the fabric of my shirt, as reality showed itself to her to. I had to be strong, for her, for us, if we were to survive.
I loved my mother, she was sweet, kind, loving, maybe not the brightest, and she was a muggle. She was fascinated with magic and was delighted to watch my father do simple spells and see me fly on a broom, or see pictures of Emma performing magic at school.
Father was intelligent, strong, noble, he had been a hufflepuff and proud of it. He always defended our family, when Lucious Malfoy insulted my mother at diagon alley my father had promptly socked him in the nose, and left with us in tow. He managed to get out of trouble since Lucious was ashamed at having been assaulted by a hufflepuff and was unable to defend himself. I loved my father, I still love him.
I was still crying and I had gotten hysterical it seemed, because I was soon in a white bed, with a potion bottle pushed to my mouth as a disgusting liquid slid down my throat and into my stomach as my sorrow slowly took over, and all I could focus on was the despair and loneliness I now felt, and succumbed to sleep, with dreams of my families screams as they were tortured and killed, and I couldn't do anything, absolutely nothing to stop it and save them, the people who gave me life, taught me to love, and who had yet to meet the one whom I loved, almost as much as them, the people, who were gone, who I would never see again, and left me, all alone with no shoulders to cry on.