INTERLUDE VI

Even after all these years, Eliza's memories of that last day lingered at the back of her mind in exquisite detail.

Ben Hawthorn had the weekend off from driving his bus and his wife, Cheryl, was set to spend her Saturday out of nurse scrubs. It was rare for her parents to have the weekend off and almost unheard of for them to be off work together.

More importantly, it had spared their younger daughter from experiencing the banal horrors of the local daycare. Eliza thought wasting her weekdays in school was bad enough but being forced to play with drooling babies was not how she wanted to spend her weekends.

As such, she was ecstatic when she learned about the change in their routine. As her mum and dad had a well-deserved lie-in, Eliza enjoyed a morning in front of the telly with all the cereal she could eat.

When her parents finally got out of bed, they put the cherry on top of an already good day by ordering a takeaway and joining her in front of the telly. They had even let her eat in the living room instead of at the table.

Eliza couldn't remember what had been playing, but she did remember how the three of them had laughed until their neighbour had thumped on the wall, telling them to shut it.

Things only got a little blurry after Reyna had stepped into the flat. Eliza was always happy to see her older sister, even though that wasn't as often as she would have liked. She had more memories of Reyna from when she was younger, but now that she'd been promoted at work, she'd seen less and less of her.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Reyna said softly. She pressed her face into Eliza's hair as always when hugging her. "I've missed you."

"You didn't tell me you were coming." Cheryl crossed her arms and spoke in the same stiff tone she always used with her eldest.

"It was a spur-of-the-moment decision," Reyna said tersely.

"You're always welcome here, sweetheart," Ben said quickly before Cheryl could reply. His wife gave him a sour look but Reyna smiled.

"Thanks, Dad." She straightened up again, surreptitiously twirling her wand as she did so. Cheryl rolled her eyes and made for the kitchen to fix her a cup of tea and a plate of her favourite chocolate biscuits. Reyna glanced down at Eliza and winked.

The fact that only the two of them could see magic had always been their little secret, one the sisters kept from their parents. Eliza had accidentally spilt the beans once or twice to her dad in her excitement to talk about unicorns and dragons, but he had only smiled playfully in return.

"It's alright," Reyna would say when Eliza would admit to her folly. "Most people, like Mum and Dad, can't see or hear the truth."

Eliza had felt sad then. "So, they can never know?" Even at the age of five, she had wondered if that was the cause of the distance between Reyna and their parents.

"It's a good thing you're so much younger than me, you know." Reyna smiled. "The laws- the rules," she corrected, dumbing it down for her audience, "have changed. Muggle parents are allowed to know, but only when their kid goes to school." Eliza gasped in excitement then, her attention carried away by the mention of Hogwarts and what she could do once she got there.

Eliza distinctly remembered a whistle as the kettle came to a boil while she hurried back into the living room after the ad break ended. She had been so focused on making it back before her show started playing that she failed to notice Reyna follow their parents into the kitchen.

A while later, she heard Cheryl scream.

Eliza wasn't exactly sure what happened in the seconds that followed. One moment she was in front of the telly, then the sound of broken glass reverberated throughout the flat, and she was suddenly standing in the kitchen doorway.

That was where she saw a sight that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Ben and Cheryl Hawthorn were lying still on the cold linoleum floor, the dark red of their blood mixing and spreading out across the black-and-white patterns. Reyna stood over them both with a cold expression and a raised wand.

Eliza dimly recalled screaming, bright flashes of light and a multitude of wounds being afflicted on her body.

She was dying. She was sure of it.

But she awoke gasping in the rubble of what had once been the estate she had grown up in. Her ears were ringing, but she could just make out the agonised screams of her neighbours and the movement of their shadows caused by the flickering flames.

Eliza started when she felt a large hand settle upon her head. Looking up, she finally took notice of the imposing man that had been kneeling beside her. From his hand, she felt a pulse of warm energy overtake her and her wounds repaired themselves. Her eyes widened as she took in his uniform and realised help was here.

"You're an Auror!" She gasped, relieved. "My mum and dad! They're-!"

"Peace, child." The wizard's deep voice rumbled. His snow-white beard twitched as he smiled weakly at her. "I will-" He suddenly stopped speaking and stared at something above her head. Eliza followed his gaze and a chill came over her once she saw what had made him pause.

Reyna stood not twenty feet away, bold as brass as she stared right at them.

"It was a mistake for you to remain here, Reyna," the Auror said warningly.

"She's my-" Reyna spoke harshly, her voice disturbingly steady for what she had just done.

"She's nothing to you now!" The Auror slashed his wand in the air, but the jet of light that was shot from the end was too slow.

Reyna turned on her heel and vanished into thin air and the light splashed harmlessly on the rubble behind where she had stood.

That was the last time Eliza saw her sister in the flesh.

The old Auror let out a suffering sigh before turning back to Eliza with a weary smile. "Come, child. Let's get you away from this place."

Eliza shook her head, dazed. "I'm not meant to go with strangers." It was something her mother liked to repeat, and she let out a sudden sob when she realised it would never be repeated to her again.

"That is good advice," the Auror nodded. "If I were to introduce myself then we wouldn't be strangers, would we?" He waited for Eliza's hesitant nod before introducing himself. "Good. I am Babjide Akingbade." He extended a hand to her quite seriously. "And you are?"

She took his hand. "E-Eliza Hawthorn." She stuttered, unable to stem the tears that the memory of her mother had brought her.

Akingabde's expression softened. He lifted her with his deceptively strong arms. "You're safe now, Eliza." He promised. "You'll never have to see her again."

Those words had comforted her that night, but they tormented her every other.