An hour felt longer than the time between the birth and end of the universe and my heart thudded painfully against my ribs. I couldn't stand not knowing.
The fact that Sola and the others had not come back within minutes signified that something had happened. That all was not well.
My parents were Muggles, if anything had happened, the chance of them surviving was… I closed my eyes.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop thinking like that. Stop thinking at all.
Then, there was a knock on the door.
"Who-?"
"Phoenix!"
I opened the door and Sola and Ted stumbled in.
"Sola! Where are Mum and Dad?"
She wouldn't look at me in the face as she grasped my shoulder with a feverish, shaking hand. "They-They're…"
"C'mon," Ted said softly but firmly, clasping a steady hand on Sola's shoulder. "We've got to go to St. Mungo's."
St. Mungo's. No. The fear that had been gnawing at me for the past hour was starting to swallow me whole.
Sola took a deep breath and then said to me, "Mother's waiting for you." Tears streaked down her cheeks.
"But th-they're all right?" I said, my voice high-pitched.
"It's best if you see for yourself. We haven't got much time," said Ted. As he finished his sentence, the urgency overrode the softness in his voice. It confirmed what I feared. He held out both hands, we clasped them and Apparated to St. Mungo's.
It's a different ward from Jamie's, I thought numbly. I didn't realize that it was different because of the different name of the ward, which I didn't care to remember, or the beds or whatever, but because of the light. The way the light filtered down through the high window was so different from the light that poured through the huge windows of Jamie's ward. That's because this ward was only given to those beyond any chance of recovery. They didn't need the air or light. Not for long, anyways.
"Mother?" I whispered brokenly.
But it wasn't really a question of whether I recognized her or not. Despite the fact that half her face had been mangled with her cheekbone smashed in and bruises covering the entirety of her cheek and blood covered the entire right side of her body, I knew she was my beautiful mother. The real question was whether she could recognize me.
For a moment, I didn't think she did. Such empty eyes that struggled to remain anchored to this life. But when I gently kissed her face, tasting the sharp metallic taste of blood on the tip of my tongue, those eyes seemed to spark with life again and they found me.
"Raylynx?"
"Yes," I breathed in relief. She was going to be all right. It didn't matter that her voice came out half-whispered. It recognized me and embraced my name in loving warmth. This was my mom and she was going to be fine. She was half herself already.
"What are you going to do?" my mother whispered hoarsely. "All alone, my child."
"Mom, what are you talking about?" I asked, smiling a little at her ridiculous words. My vision was a little blurry, most likely due to the weak lighting in here.
My mother reached a bloody hand to my face. She didn't have the energy to stroke my face, but her just laying that hand on my cheek was enough to signify that she was going to make it through. In fact, I would never know how much pain and effort it cost her to lift her hand to my face. That motion along probably cut her remaining seconds of life in half. But it was worth it to her because it meant that she loved me.
"Sweetheart, don't give up," my mother's voice was so low I had to lean in closer to hear her words, but she was speaking, right?
"I am so proud of you, my beautiful daughter," she trembled a little and something wet trickled down my cheek.
"Mom?" I whispered to her.
"I'm so sorry. Your father and I f-failed you..." Her eyes were beginning to dim. Something incredibly cold and incredibly sharp pierced its way into my heart.
"Mom, stay with me," I heard myself beg desperately. "Y-you're coming home with me."
My mother's lips trembled as she attempted to smile, to put on a brave face for me until the end.
"It's not the end," I said fiercely, talking just as much to myself as to my mother. "You're going to spend the next three months with me and… and you still have to- you've got to disapprove of my first job and you and Daddy have to yell at me because my first boyfriend's too immature a-and y-you've got to hold my kid like you held me and Sola and J-Jamie a-and…you've got to see Jamie wake up again, Mom."
My voice died, swallowed itself up. My mother's lips were shaking horribly, her eyes began to roll. Suddenly, she frantically reached out and roughly grabbed my face.
"Look at me. L-look at m-me!"
Her face was horrible to look at, convulsing and bloody and her eyes-
I gasped.
The hospital with its ugly, ghostly lighting disappeared from sight.
I was standing in what could only be described as someone's parlour, lavishly decorated with all sorts of rich fabrics like velvet, silk, fur, and gossamer and currently filled to every corner with handsomely dressed ladies and gentlemen alike. They had wine glasses in their gloved hands and were talking to each other with bright, lovely smiles on their faces. A merry quartet was playing a lively upbeat tune.
Completely at a loss as to where I was, I began to move through the crowd, apologizing when I jostled someone by bumping into their shoulder. When the man did not even acknowledge my existence, I hesitated. Where was I? But no sooner had I asked that question when I laid eyes on the loveliest lady in the room. She was standing alone in the corner, away from the festivities, obviously nervous from the way her eyes glanced about her. It wasn't difficult to tell why- she was clearly of a lower class than the rest, from her simple attire. But she was gorgeous, in that grey dress that was quite fitting on top and then flared out in a full skirt to her knees. Her pretty dark brown hair was pinned back in curls.
"Mother?" I whispered, in disbelief. She was so beautiful, perhaps even moreso than her daughter, Sola. While Sola had a bold, dashing grace, my mother had a soft yet strong, understated grace about her that nonetheless made everything she did- from the way she inclined her head to the way she nervously stood alone, a picture of elegance and beauty.
I started towards her when a man dressed in incredibly expensive clothing blocked my way. At any other time, I would have found him intimidating, with his sharp dress and lofty demeanor, but I couldn't care less right now. Impatiently, I began to move past him when I paused. There was something so familiar about this man… His scent… like… like fresh coffee with lots of cream, something pure and fresh like snow and the slightest hint of warm vanilla.
He reached my mother and said teasingly, "Well, Ms. Bronte, how are you enjoying yourself? I'm surprised to see you out in society. You generally prefer to stay indoors with your books, don't you?"
My mother coolly replied, "Whereas you've never opened anything but whiskey bottles?"
"Well, you see, they're the only drinks that work on me after the battles," he tried to keep his tone light, but his eyes were suddenly somber.
"But don't worry," he replied, his tone jaunty and cheerful again. "I prefer girls who improve their minds with extensive reading. It shows the mark of a truly accomplished woman."
My mother replied with a scathing look that clearly said, 'Bugger off'.
Instead, she asked rather shortly, "Why are you here? Not to discuss anything as sophisticated as literature, I'm sure."
I found her incredibly brave, in her lower-class dress, rejecting this handsome and obviously wealthy man's advances.
"Well," he said carefully. "I wanted to ask you if I could have the next dance."
"No," my mother said immediately, but she couldn't hide her surprise completely. Instead, she began to move away from him, but he gently stopped her, taking her hand.
"You could be a little nicer, you know," he said and again, though his tone was levitated, his manner was genuine.
My mother tried to pull her hand away but he didn't let go and gripped it tightly.
"Stop that," my mother said.
"Fine, princess," he said, dropping her hand, somewhat annoyed.
"Would you please stop calling me that? You've been calling me that since first grade," my mother said, peeved as she snatched her hand back.
He suddenly grinned and responded cheekily, "Sure, Em."
My mother whirled on him angrily and said, "Stop it, you scoundrel! To you it's just a joke, but people might misunderstand you."
He laughed, but the sound was soft while his eyes were fierce, "But they wouldn't be misunderstanding anything, would they?"
He stepped closer to her but my mother steadfastly held her ground.
"I dream of a life, a simple life, with you," he said. "I could be a carpenter, work in a workshop, the way I'd always imagined. And you could be a writer or a teacher, the way you've always wanted. And we could have kids- at least one girl and one boy, don't you think?"
"Don't say such foolish things," my mother replied. "We're born of different classes. And you could never be a carpenter. Your grandfather wouldn't allow it."
"He didn't want me to be a soldier, either, but look where I am now."
"A life with you... I can't imagine such a thing," my mother said.
"What are you afraid of?" he asked her, taking her hand again.
"Afraid?" my mother asked scornfully, but her demeanor was slipping.
"You're trembling," he said, looking into her eyes.
"I'm not trembling," my mother argued, but her voice was too quick, too certain to be honest.
"But you're right to be afraid," he said gravely. "What I really came to tell you is that I've asked the head of my order for an extended period of enlistment. I'm leaving again tomorrow. To fight in the war."
My mother's eyes were wide with fear. "You going back? But why? You've fulfilled your post, Thomas!"
"I had to," he said urgently. "I know I've fulfilled my post, but I haven't fulfilled my duty. Not until this war is over or I die fighting in it."
My mother gazed at him with tears in her pretty eyes, torn between her pride for him and the agonizing fear tearing her heart to shreds.
"I'm sorry," he said, sighing deeply before he had another go at what I know realized was a very brave humor, "but hey, maybe I could write you, and write 'sophisticated literature' good?"
My mother's eyes shone with tears, but she looked into his eyes- my father's eyes- and replied, "It's write well, you idiot."
The scene faded and I found myself in a small room in a house- my home, actually, and my parents were curled up on the sofa with what could only be my siblings when they were very young.
Sola was sitting on my father's lap, her tiny arms around his neck. My father placed a loud, sloppy kiss on her cheek and she giggled with joy. Jamie had his hand placed on my mother's belly, which was quite large.
Suddenly, Jamie's eyes widened and he cried, "I felt it!"
My mother laughed and lovingly laid a hand on her belly, "Me, too, love. I felt your baby sister too."
"Ray?" Jamie asked, looking up at her with curious eyes.
"Yes, your gorgeous baby sister Raylynx," my mother smiled and touched Jamie's cheek.
"She's pretty," Jamie said fondly, laying his hand on my mother's belly again.
"What do you mean?" my father laughed. "She hasn't even been born yet."
Jamie shrugged childishly. "I still think she's pretty."
"And you're right," my mother said and then crooned to her belly. "D'you hear that, baby? You're pretty, and we love you already. We love you."
The streetlight flickered, the light glancing off the wet pavement, but my mother paid it no mind. She and my father were waiting eagerly, side-by-side, for an owl bearing news of their children, Sola and Raylynx. They had heard about the Wizengamot attack.
"We could come back in the morning, when it's light," my father suggested as the streetlight flickered again.
"No," my mother shook her head adamantly, "I need to know they're safe, Tom. I need to know…" Her voice faded.
"I'm sure they are." My father wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "They're rather clever, you know, our children."
"I know it, but their world's so scary, so-" My mother cut short when she noticed something flash through the trees.
"Mom, leave," I begged, even though I knew she couldn't hear or see me. "Mom, please, get back inside, please!"
"Tom," my mother whispered fearfully, "Tom, you've got to get inside."
"What?" my father asked, frowning down at her.
"Come with me, w-we'll get the post in the morning." My mother's voice trembled and she led my bewildered father back inside the house.
"Em, what's wrong?" my father asked her as they had stepped inside the kitchen, but words were no longer necessary as suddenly, all the windows shattered. My mother screamed and my father immediately shielded her from the shattering glass that cut into his back and neck.
"Get out, get out!" my father shouted, dragging my frightened mother out of the kitchen. But the hallway was already bursting into flames, flames that almost seemed sentient. It leapt after them as they ran frantically, and a large serpent seemed to rise from the fire and clench its teeth around my mother, who screamed horrifyingly. But they managed to get outside where my father immediately grabbed my mother and they rolled on the lawn together, killing the fire. Her flesh was already terribly mangled, but for a moment she seemed not to register it as she looked up at our house, our home, splintering apart in a huge inferno, becoming nothing more than a wreckage.
"Tom," she whispered heartbrokenly, "Tom…"
"Crucio!"
"No!" I screamed, but my warning never existed, never mattered as a ripping, terrifyingly pained scream was wrenched from my mother's throat.
A man with a hard, brutish face and a tall woman with heavily lidded eyes stepped forward from behind the fence.
"Stop it!" my father screamed at them as my mother writhed on the ground, sobbing, screaming.
"You want us to stop, do you, you filthy Mudblood? But you're only getting what you deserve. And your children will get the same," Bellatrix Black sneered, her eyes alight with menacing joy. "And you can't help that, can you, you dirty breed? Avada Kedavra!"
And my father dropped to the ground and moved no more.
"DAD!" I screamed, my voice breaking. "DAD, NO!"
"Tom! No, To-Ahhh!" My mother gripped her own hands so hand her nails tore into the flesh and blood ran down her palms. I tried to cover my ears, but I couldn't block out my mother's screams.
"Shut up, you filthy bitch," the man said and kicked her hard in the face. Blood splattered the ground from her face.
"Praecisus!" he shouted and a deep, serrated, gash appeared in my mother's side. Blood came pouring out of the wound. She screamed again. He made to kick her again.
"Stupefy!" Two voices sounded together. Sola and Ted had Apparated to the site.
My sister's spell barely missed the man's face, but Bellatrix had already fired a spell right at her, except Sola was quick enough to deflect it with a Shield Charm.
"Hello, Mudblood," Bellatrix sneered in deep loathing. And you've even dragged that dog that's my sister's husband out with you."
My sister saw my mother and father on the ground and her face contorted in pain. My sister's face was almost unrecognizable as it twisted in anger and hatred, "BELLATRIX, YOU-! Crucio!"
But Bellatrix dodged it was a laugh. "Oh, you're angry, are you?"
"But you're weak, you're so weak," Bellatrix hissed. "And I am going to kill-"
She was cut short by a yelp. Ted's curse had caught the man in the arm and cut into his flesh.
He started to turn-
"Yaxley!" Ted shouted furiously and sent a blast of red fire at him, but it was too late. He had gone, Apparated with a loud crack.
Bellatrix hissed and eyed Ted with malice, but my sister was already firing another spell at her. Bellatrix Apparated as well, gone in a crack.
"Sola, we've got to get her to St. Mungo's. This is far beyond my ability to heal. She's lost so much blood," Ted said, gently lifting my mother, who was unconscious but whimpered at his touch.
"Right," Sola said, taking deep breaths to calm herself,."Right. And Dad- Dad, where's my Dad?"
"Sola, he-he's… dead," Ted said somberly.
Sola closed her eyes.
"Sola," Ted said. "I'm sorry to push you, but we can't waste time. Your mother needs to go to St. Mungo's and we've got to let your sister know. And I need to alert Moody and Dumbledore straight away."
Sola was still as a statute. And I knew she was falling into pieces, cracking in all the places a human should be whole.
"Sola?"
She nodded and opened her eyes, tears shimmering in them. "All right," she said, her voice breaking, "a-all right."
And then my mind went blank, completely mind, only I heard my mother's voice, soft and sad, saying over and over to me the words she had told me every day of her life she had spent with me, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
The hospital snapped back into reality and I was staring into my mother's eyes, haunted, pained, and…
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Her dreams, memories, and love were all bleeding out from her, leaving her, leaving this world…
I love you, I love you… I love y-
The vibrant light in her eyes went out.
How could I still be sitting in Dumbledore's office when my father no longer lived?
How could I still be in this world when my mother and father had left?
How could I hear or feel anything when…
When…
"Raylynx, under the circumstances, I would like you to stay with Professor McGonagall over the summer. She has already agreed to this arrangement. Your old home needs serious reconstruction. Furthermore, it would be dangerous for you to live there or with your sister."
Everything was just tiresome. What difference did it make, really?
"I believe you will have to stay one week longer and arrive on week earlier, per Professor McGonagall's schedule."
Why couldn't I just sit here until the end? What did it matter, really? There is nothing worth fighting for.
"Ms. Kingsley, I am terribly sorry for your loss," Dumbledore said quietly, reading the grief etched into my face.
I closed my eyes, unwilling to hear, unwilling to think, unwilling to feel…
A moment later, Professor McGonagall entered and gently guided me to the Hospital Wing where I numbly drank a Dream-less Sleeping Potion. My eyes closed as heavy sleep came but it made no difference. I was already living in utter, desolate, darkness.
