The following morning, Sarah sat alone on the couch again, staring blankly into the black screen of the television. Her memory of the previous night's events was clouded. She remembered coming back from the Weasley's house, remembered Barnaby declaring he was leaving, then her mind went blank until she stormed out of the house after him, only to find he'd already disappeared.
Penny had informed her what had happened in between, but try as she might, she couldn't see it in her own mind. What was happening to her? Had her brain deleted that memory to spare her heartache? But the truth was, her memory had been fuzzy for months now. She'd wake up and not remember everything that had happened the day before, or find herself standing in a place and having now idea how she'd got there. Perhaps it was the stress.
The rest of the house was quiet. Everyone seemed to be grieving in their own way after last night's events. Sarah wasn't sure if she wanted to think about it or if she wanted to stop thinking altogether. She just couldn't understand why this was happening. How could the world have become so dark, so hopeless?
Diego shuffled over, still in his pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, and sat down with her. He held two mugs in his hands, and he handed one over.
Sarah took the mug and glanced down at its contents. Fire Whiskey.
"It's ten-thirty in the morning," she said.
"Plenty of time in the day to have more, then," said Diego.
Allowing herself a small smile, Sarah took a drink. She felt the contents burn in her stomach and warm her up from the inside-out. It did little to dull the pain, but a little was better than nothing.
Diego drained his mug in one gulp, then flicked his wand back at the kitchen table and the bottle of fire whiskey drifted lazily to him. He poured more liquid in both their mugs.
"I'm sorry about Barnaby," he said, after taking another drink.
"You are?"
Diego nodded. "Truly. I don't know a lot about love, but I know enough to know what heartbreak feels like. It sucks."
"Did I hear right?" said Sarah, examining the contents of the fire whiskey bottle with suspicion. "Did the great romantic himself, Diego Caplan, admit he's not an expert on love?"
Diego chuckled. "Even I have to admit it's too complicated a subject for me. I reckon it is for everybody." He stared down into his mug. "When a witch or wizard is able to completely understand love, and they write a book about it, they'll be the richest person in the world."
Sarah nodded. Until a couple years ago, she would have disagreed. Back then, love had seemed like the simplest thing in the world. Now, everything had gone dark as a Death Eater's robes.
She wondered what Barnaby was doing right now. None of them knew how to get to Merula's family home. Their best hope was to wait for Dumbledore to contact them and tell them what he knew. Barnaby was powerful, but Sarah feared whatever awaited him on the path he was treading would be too much for him to face alone.
"Why did he have to leave?" she asked quietly. She felt like a child asking it, but it had been all she'd been able to think about since it happened.
Diego shook his head. "I guess he just felt like he had to. I don't know."
"Why didn't we go with him?"
This had been the most unhelpful aspect of her lapse in memory. So much had changed since she'd left Hogwarts that she supposed she was hardly the same person anymore, but she knew deep down in her gut that she wouldn't normally abandon a friend like that. Especially after Rowan died, Sarah had always made sure that her friends never had to face anything alone. So, why had she let Barnaby walk alone into so much danger?
Diego let out a long breath. "I guess our paths just...diverged. Barnaby had something he had to do, we have something we have to do. It's like he said, he's not really involved with the Order."
No, he wasn't. Sarah recalled last year, when Dumbledore had told her Barnaby was too vulnerable to be included in the Order's plans, so she'd tossed him aside for the greater good. She supposed it shouldn't be surprising that he'd find his own way without her, but a childish part of her had always hoped that after it was all over, they'd go back to the way things had been before.
She felt a tear sliding down her cheek, hot as the fire whiskey. She felt stupid; more people were being murdered everyday, and she was crying because she was lonely. She wiped the tear angrily and took another drink from her mug.
Diego topped it off, then scooted close and put his arm around her. She let herself lean into him. It lifted her burden even just to not support her own head. She let him rub his hand on her arm and kiss the top of her head. Each place he touched her tingled, reminding her that she was still alive.
Once they received word from Dumbledore, she'd have to pick herself up, find strength somewhere within herself, and get back to work. But for now, she supposed it was okay to fall apart a little.
*******************
Barnaby and Elena appeared in a small cluster of trees in a tiny park in London. It was the same park he'd played in with a muggle boy once, the place where his magic had first made its presence known within him.
He'd realized that he didn't have any form of plan as he'd stormed out of the cottage, but he had to go somewhere, and his Uncle Cecil's had been the first place to pop in his head. Cecil was the only member of Barnaby's family that liked him. The few weeks Barnaby had stayed with Cecil, back when his parents had sent him away worried he'd turned out to be a squib, had been some of the happiest of his childhood.
It was dark, so they had little trouble not being seen as Barnaby made the way to his Uncle's apartment building. There was no answer when Barnaby knocked on the door, but he found it unlocked when he turned the handle.
"Uncle?" Barnaby called as he stepped inside. There was no sound or light inside the apartment. "He must not be home. I suppose we'll just wait for him here."
Elena stepped forward to investigate the tiny kitchen. She peered into his cupboards and his icebox.
"I think something's wrong," Elena whispered, returning to stand close to him and taking out her wand. "All of his food has gone bad. There are dishes piled in the sink."
"Well, maybe he forgot to do his chores. And to eat. Cecil can be forgetful sometimes..." said Barnaby.
With his wand tip lit, he lead the way through the untouched living room to check the bedrooms. The first was the room Barnaby had stayed in when he had visited. It still contained the twin bed he used to sleep in. The first toys he could remember owning were still strewn about the floor, as if he'd just put them down because he'd been called into dinner. But, the layers of dust told Barnaby the room hadn't been touched for a long time.
Down the hall, he opened the door to his Uncle's room. This was the only room that looked as if it had been used in weeks. Elena gasped. Barnaby felt his eyes burning.
Cecil's bed had been torn to shreds. Feathers and bits of pillow and blanket littered the floor. Large, dark stains were everywhere--the bed, the floor, the walls.
Barnaby closed his eyes, willing himself to remain upright. His body felt like a reed at the mercy of the wind. He felt Elena slip past him. He opened his eyes to watch her stepping carefully around the room, trying to avoid the bloodstains. Her fingers felt along the walls. There were huge claw marks lining them, as well as on the bed and the door.
"These couldn't have been made by an ordinary dog," she muttered, lifting up the peeled wallpaper.
As if her were moving outside his body, Barnaby felt himself drift forward to examine the marks, too. He scanned through the copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that had been burned into his brain after countless hours spent combing through it, searching for the creature most likely responsible.
"But, that was his job," he said. His voice was strained, like someone was stepping on his throat. "Werewolves couldn't have got him. He'd have fought them off."
"They must have surprised him," said Elena. She stood by him again, took hold of his hand. "Was your uncle an enemy of the Death Eaters? The Dark Lord has many werewolves at his command. They might have been sent after him."
Barnaby thought. How could anyone be an enemy of Uncle Cecil? He was so kind, so jovial...
But there were people who hated Cecil. The Lees thought Cecil was a disgrace to the family name, because of his menial job, his refusal to join the Dark Lord, his minimal intelligence. Drystan Lee hated his brother nearly as much as he hated his son. He'd come after Barnaby. Why not Uncle Cecil, too?
"Maybe he got away," he said, talking fast. "This is probably all the werewolf's blood. He could be hiding out in the woods somewhere, or he's out, tracking them down, or..."
His body was shaking uncontrollably. He felt the tears starting to fall against his will. Elena hugged him. He let his head droop down and bury itself in her shoulder. He held her tight as his body heaved. He worried if her let her go, he might disappear into the darkness entirely.
In the end, they cleaned up Cecil's room. The bed repaired itself, the claw marks in the wall sealed up like healing scars, the dark stains vanished without a trace. Barnaby pulled back the covers on his uncle's bed, so that it was ready for him when he returned.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay here tonight?" Elena asked as Barnaby shouldered his pack and made for the door. "You could use some rest."
He shook his head. This apartment, once a kind of safe-haven for him, felt like a tomb now that his uncle wasn't there to brighten the shabby walls.
Elena took his hand again as they went back to the park, then disapparated.
They reappeared in the countryside, on the edge of a large pond. He could hear frogs chirping.
"There's the house," said Elena, pointing.
Barnaby looked around in confusion. It was now pitch dark, but by the light of the moon and stars he could see the pond, the grassy hills, and a forest a mile or so off to the East. There was no house in sight.
"Where?" he asked.
"Just there," said Elena, pointing to a flat piece of land. "It's got protective enchantments, so you won't be able to see it."
"Can you get me inside?"
She looked unsure, but she nodded slowly. "I should be able to remove enough of them to break through, but it's sure to alert whoever's inside."
"Alright, then." Barnaby shook out the wrist of his wand arm and popped his neck, preparing for the fight.
"You want to go in now?" Elena asked, alarmed. "Shouldn't we rest first, come up with a plan?"
Barnaby didn't want to rest. Resting would lead to thinking. He wanted action. "The longer we wait, the longer Merula is trapped with those monsters," he said. "I'm going in now."
Both of them spun around at the sound of suave, masculine voice. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
They thrusts their wands out, coming to a stand off with the wizard who had snuck up behind him.
Elena lit the tip of her wand, revealing a man with light hair that was cut extremely short. He had deep blue eyes, and pale skin. He wore a shirt of blood read and a long, leather coat.
"Are you daft?" he hissed at Elena. "Put that light out, before they see us!"
Elena gave him a dirty look, but extinguished her wand. But, the brief flicker of light had been enough for Barnaby to recognize the wizard.
"You're Sarah's brother!"
"Yes," said the man. "And I'd rather hoped you weren't gonna show up for a while." He lowered his wand and held up his hands to them, but Barnaby and Elena kept their wands raised.
"What are you doing here?" Barnaby asked. "Does Sarah know where you are? Does she even know you're alive?"
Jacob Spellman shook his head. "No, and I'd like it to stay that way for a while longer. Now, if you'll just follow me so that we're not out in the open, I'll explain myself."
He pocketed his wand and headed off in the direction of the trees. Barnaby considered ignoring him, but decided he had to know what Sarah's brother was doing outside Merula's house.
Keeping their wands out, he and Elena followed Jacob into the trees.