Empty Gold • d.meadowes

-42-

Dorcas followed McGonagall, not daring to ask her anything.

Her heart twisted in her chest and her mouth went dry. Something told her it had to be death eater business, but why would she be pulled out of her exam? The suspense was killing her, but she waited patiently for McGonagall to tell her herself.

She was taken to the Professor's office. McGonagall opened the door, but instead of entering, she gestured for Dorcas to enter. With a frown, she walked into the office, where stood her father. He was standing with his hands on his hips and staring at the books on the shelves by the wall. He didn't hear her coming in.

"Dad?" Dorcas asked as McGonagall closed the door and went to sit down on her chair on the other side of the large table that stood in the middle of the room. Her father whipped around at her, but he didn't move from his spot. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

His eyes glistened in the light. He took a few steps forward but didn't come to her. She glanced at the professor in confusion.

"I think you should sit, Ms Meadowes."

With her heart thudding in her chest, Dorcas took the chair opposite of her while her father went to stand beside the table, looking at her but not meeting her eyes.

"Dad?" Her voice was more panicked now. She was getting angry. She wanted to shout, demand them to tell her what was going on. But it didn't seem like he had the strength to say anything, so she urged McGonagall to speak. "Professor, what's going on?"

She met her eyes. Then with a steady voice, she uttered the words that would haunt Dorcas for the rest of her life, words she wished never existed. "Ms Meadowes, it's your mother," she said quietly. "She was found dead in her house this morning. We suspect it was the work of death eaters."

Dorcas didn't react. She thought she had heard wrong. Her mother couldn't be dead.

But when she looked at her father for confirmation and he looked away, trying to hide his tears, something heavy fell into her chest, suffocating her. She didn't speak for several minutes, choosing instead to stare at the bare tabletop of McGonagall's desk.

"You must be mistaken," she said after a few excruciating minutes of silence. Her voice was hollow, but surprisingly calm. "There must have been a mistake. Maybe it was someone else; maybe you mistook someone else for my mother. My mother couldn't die."

The last sentence came out pleadingly, and her father finally looked at her, sitting down on the chair that stood beside her. He was biting down on his lips. "We aren't mistaken, Dorcas," he whispered in a shaky voice. "I was there. I saw her. She – she was motionless. She didn't open her eyes. The Aurors confirmed that she was mu–murdered by the killing curse."

Dorcas found it hard to breathe – the heaviness inside her chest pressed down, squeezed her lungs. McGonagall's office spun, and she almost couldn't recognise her father sitting next to her, clasping her hand tightly between his fingers.

"You're mistaken," she said calmly and confidently, like she was trying to convince them that her mother really wasn't dead. "She wrote to me." Her eyes widened as she remembered the letter. "She wrote to me yesterday. Look, I have the letter with me."

Desperately, she hunted through her pockets until she found the crisp paper envelope. She reached over the table and handed it over to Professor McGonagall, saying, "See? It's from my mother. It came yesterday. She couldn't have written this letter if she was dead." She laughed like the situation seemed hilarious to her. It must be a huge misunderstanding. She was sure of it. Her mother wasn't dead. How could she be?

But McGonagall didn't open the envelope. She sighed softly, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes with her fingers. Then she rose to her feet. "I'll give you two some time."