Author's Note: The prompt was "Owl".
Like skeleton hands reaching up to touch the face of heaven, the black silhouettes of the trees cut across the stone sky. The wind raced between them, daring to brush its cutting edges against the weathered bark. The eerie sound of nighttime echoed through the scene, a soundtrack to a midnight performance. Amelia Bones, aged six, sat on her bed, her knees curled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them. Her grey eyes stared out the window, watching all that went on. In the middle of her mattress, her tiny body was further dwarfed in the darkness. The only colour in the room was that of her blonde hair, but even the soft gold was washed out by the shadows.
Footsteps sounded on the landing outside her room. Quietly, her door was pushed open and her brother, Edgar, older by ten years, poked his head around the corner. Upon seeing his little sister, he smiled.
"You should be asleep, Baby Bones," he whispered, coming into the room.
Amelia didn't turn away from the window.
"But it's so beautiful outside," she whispered back, "so vibrant."
"You don't even know what that word means," Edgar said fondly.
He sat down on the bed next to her, his own pair of grey eyes joining hers as audience to nature. They sat in silence, though Amelia could hear her brother's breathing, slow and measured. His thoughts were far from the room which his body inhabited, even the simple mind of a six year old could realize that much. But Amelia could not work out where he had gone, no matter how hard she tried.
There was a movement in the shadows, a tiny dot of black darting across the grey sky. Amelia jumped, her tiny hands subconsciously leaping to grip the wrist of her brother.
"What's that?" she asked.
Edgar shifted a little, looking closer.
"I think it's an owl," he said.
Amelia leant closer to the window, spreading her palms out on the wooden sill. If she squinted her eyes, she could make out the outline of the bird, its wings open out as it glided. It came to a stop in one of the trees, its shape melting into that of the branch.
"Does it have a message for us?" Amelia said, always excited about receiving owl mail.
Edgar shook his head.
"I don't think so," he replied quietly, "It looks wild."
"Then what's it doing?" his sister breathed, watching the creature with wide eyes.
Edgar took a while to answer.
"It's flying, Meles," he said, "just flying."
He brought both his feet up onto the bed, shuffling forward until he was right up by the window next to his sibling.
"That owl doesn't have to listen to wizards, to carry their mail, to do their bidding," Edgar explained, "He can just fly, when he wants, where he wants. He's free."
There was something in his voice, something Amelia couldn't understand. She frowned.
"Do you want to fly?" Amelia asked.
Edgar smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah, course, Kiddo," he said, "That's what they made freedom for."
Amelia tilted her head sideways, mirroring the look of a small dog; Edgar just laughed.
"Every owl wants to fly," the young man said, "It's wired in their make-up. They can be born and bred in captivity, but deep down they want to fly. They have to fly."
"Can I fly?" Amelia asked in a tone that displayed her age.
"I know you can," Edgar grinned, "One day we'll both be able to fly."
The sky was a china blue colour, dusted lightly with dirty white clouds. The cemetery was a great expanse of grass, each blade a little too long, headstones placed at random intervals across the ground. At the edges of the field, trees stood in clusters, their dark green leaves waving at sporadic intervals as the breeze brushed against them. Amelia Bones stood still, her hands deep in the pockets of her black coat, her grey eyes scanning the area, slightly squinted as they fought against the glare of the sun. The wind curled about her ankles, willing her to walk forward. Eventually, after she had exhausted all possible reasons as to why she shouldn't, Amelia did.
Her heels dug into the soft ground as she moved; she had come straight from work and hadn't bothered to change. She paused before a set of gravestones, a small, sad smile on her face. She bent down and pulled a few weeds out of the grave, then rested a hand on the top.
"Mum," she whispered quietly in greeting, "Dad."
Her parents. So dependable, so steady and yet they had been the first to go. The first to fall. Amelia sighed and gave it one last pat, before getting to her feet and moving on.
Her intended destination was only a few graves along. It bore the name of her elder brother, Edgar. He had been one of the last casualties of the First Wizarding War. Amelia hadn't visited since then, but now, as a new war loomed, seemed a good time to stop by.
"Hi," she said awkwardly, completely aware of the fact she was talking to a rock.
She took a deep breath.
"I haven't been here in awhile," Amelia commented, "That's my fault, I guess. Things just kept getting in the way. But I'm here now."
She was here now. But she hadn't been there when he died. She hadn't talked to him in weeks; things just kept getting in the way. It had seemed that there would be so much time to say everything that needed to be said, so much more time than they had been gifted. Amelia felt tears stinging her eyes and she began to blink furiously. She hadn't meant for it to be this way.
"I didn't mean to leave you," she said, her voice hoarse, " I didn't mean to for you to go without saying goodbye."
A tear broke through, running down her cheek. Her heels had sunk into the ground, so she stepped out of them, placing a stockinged foot on the grass. Losing her balance, she tumbled down, next to the grave, and burst out crying.
"I didn't mean to leave you!" she yelled, her fingers clasping around stalks of grass, as if something was trying to pull her upwards and she needed to anchor herself to the Earth.
Her body was shaking. To her own mind, she looked pathetic; a fully grown women sitting on the ground, all alone, sobbing over a grave. She didn't know which was more so; the act of crying or the fact that she was less alone by these graves than she was in her actual life. That was not entirely true, but her remaining brother had a life of his own, one she could only partake in, watch, but never have. All she really had was a job and a reputation. But it was a good reputation; she was strong and powerful, something that people feared and admired, something that people wanted to be. Despite all that she didn't have, she had made it. Looking over at the words carved out, Amelia wiped away a tear.
"But I came back, didn't I?" she whispered, "I left you, but I came back."
She looked up at the sky and saw a bird, an owl, its tawny wings glistening in the light. It was clutching a letter in its talons and Amelia was reminded of something her brother had once told her.
"I came back," she said softly, "to show you I could fly."