E L I Z A
I felt as though all the ghosts in my room had come out of the dark shadows and stood around me, watching me. The fear I felt made my blood run cold. Fear. It's got a grasp of me, holding me tight, holding me with all its might and I can't seem to escape it. My breathing has become perilous and my heartbeat is a slow, unsteady beat.
It feels like I'm trapped, unable to move and escape this dungeon of terror and disbelief as I stare at the crumpled parchment.
"It's not over," I whispered out loud, suddenly making the words seem more real.
What does it mean? But I'm not so worried about the meaning. I'm more concerned by how it got here. To my home. The place where I live and sleep.
It's from Noah, there is no doubt in my mind, and Noah who now knows where I live.
When will this end?
Will it ever?
I spent the next hour with my head in my hands, sitting on my bed wondering if it ever would.
~
"Are you alright?" my father asked when I walked into the kitchen. My mother was facing away from me, dishing up the delicious-smelling dinner but I found I had no appetite. She turned to me and smiled softly. I tried to return the smile.
"Fine," I replied, taking a seat at the table beside my father. He was looking at me, over The Daily Prophet he had been reading. I couldn't help but notice, when I glanced up at him, the moving image on the front page. A building in a Diagon Alley was in flames and wizards and witches were running, screaming with terror.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice too small, too quiet, too weak but it was the voice my father knew.
My father looked at me, seemed to swallow a lump in his throat and then put the paper down, "A group of. . . rebellious wizards attacked Diagon Alley this afternoon. Killed three innocents."
"Richard, please," my mother sounded tired.
"She's curious," my father responded to my mother and then turned to me, "Aren't you, girl?" I noticed the flash of hatred in his eyes and I flinched, "Besides she should be well-educated if she too is involved in all this."
Instantly, I frowned at his words, "How am I involved?"
"We were supposed to keep her away from all of that," my mother turned and bought over mine and my father's plates of food, placing my fathers down a little too roughly, "from your past."
My father noticed the slight aggression and turned up to look at her, grabbing her wrist as he seemed to correct, "My ancestor's past."
He let go of her delicate wrist and she swiped it away, shooting me a smile, ensuring me she was fine but she was not.
My mother is a sweet, gentle woman who is often too kind for her own good. She is beautiful and every time I get told I look like her, I smile as bright as the stars. Nothing makes me happier than being compared to my lovely mother.
"If it's your ancestor's past then you can bury it," my mother said, bringing her own plate of food and sitting opposite me, "it doesn't matter anymore. It's over. Just forget about it and that silly rock."
I looked up at my mother, curious as I tried to make sense of her strange words, "Rock?" I questioned.
"It's not a rock, for heaven's sake, Diana," my father bought a hand up and pressed it into his temple, "our daughter almost got killed because of the 'silly rock'."
Sadness flashed over my mother's face and she looked down at her food, "I'm sorry. Can we just eat and not talk about it for one evening?"
I wanted to push and ask more but I have no right to do such a thing in this house. So I stayed quiet. But if this has something to do with Noah then I need to know, I will have to find my own way of finding out.
My father nodded his head, "another time, then." He didn't notice the sigh that left my mother's lips or the way she closed her eyes, as though she had truly had enough.
My father bought a fork full of food for his lips and then said, "How about we tell Eliza about this year's Christmas ball then?"
Immediately I looked up. I hated going to the balls and any sort of events with my fathers. . . acquaintances, his coworkers from the Ministry. All of them pureblood and all of whom have their heads deep up their backsides. The only thing they care about is money and power and having an obedient wife at their side.
"That's a good idea, Richard," my mother said and then looked at me, "you haven't been since you were thirteen and it'll be nice for everyone to see you."
I doubt they even took any notice of me the three times I have been. I did not want to go but I don't have a say and all I can do is smile.
"We'll find you a pretty dress," my mother smiled, leaning her hand over the table and gently squeezing my own. She knew I didn't like them but there wasn't anything she could do.
I smile, "I can't wait."
"Marvelous," my father grinned, his eyes leaking with sarcasm, "now that that's sorted, I'll be off to my office."
His chair scratched against the wooden floor of our kitchen as he stood and left without saying anything. With each step he took away from us, I felt my body loosening, my muscles which had tensed were relaxing and the air became easier to breathe. And when he was out of the kitchen, I heard the birds chirping outside, and felt the light breeze on my skin from the open window.
I looked at my mother who was still smiling. I don't know how she is always smiling when she is living in hell. The sad thought lingered in my head while I ate my dinner in silence.
~
The following morning, mum and I went to Hogsmeade using a Portkey we had in our home. I was exhausted and had woken up too late to shower and only had time to throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater. My hair was tied back into a messy bun at the bottom of my head.
I wasn't looking my best and the dark bags under my eyes were not helping. We walked into Madam Malkins, a cramped purple building deluged with flowers and packed with all kinds of robes and dresses. The smell of lavender was strong in my nose and made my head feel heavy.
"Diana," a little lady came out from a rack of hanging robes, her high-pitched voice startling me, "I haven't seen you in a long time, what brings you here?"
"It's lovely to see you again, Mal," my mother greeted, "and the Christmas ball. My daughter is in need of a beautiful dress."
The short elderly woman smiled and then averted her eyes to look up at me, I shifted in my stand as she took my entire figure in, "Very gorgeous," she nodded her head, "and what is your name, dear?"
"Eliza," I smiled, feeling a little awkward. My mother placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"She has your beauty," Malkin asserted, nodding her head to my mother and I smiled.
"You're too kind," my sweet mover responded.
"Well, follow me and I will help you find the perfect dress," Malkin turned on her heel and walked deep into the shop, leaving me and Mum to follow her through the high rows of clothes.
A charming piano tune echoed somewhere in the shop and it made me feel like I was walking through a fairy kingdom about to be dressed by a fairy Godmother. Malkin and my mother began conversing while I couldn't help but drag my finger along all the different fabrics and materials of the dresses.
"These balls are very elegant and fancy, I'm I right?" Malkin questioned.
"Oh, yes. The men take these balls very seriously," Mum replied, a little tense as she walked with her hands crossed together.
"Stuck-up tossers if you ask me," Malkin muttered, a scowl on her face. Suddenly I was very curious about this conversation.
My mum laughed and then quickly placed a hand on her mouth as though she had just laughed at the most disgraceful thing ever spoken. She cleared her throat, pardoning herself.
"I've heard all sorts of stuff goes on at those balls," Malkin continued, clearly un-bothered that she was talking to the wife of one of those stuck-up tossers, "Is it true they conspire against the wizarding world?"
"Goodness, no," my mother genuinely seemed shocked to hear those words. The Walk-in had stopped now and was browsing through a rack of dresses.
"What sort of dress would you prefer?" Malkin asked me.
I looked up at Mum who offered me a small smile, "Umm—I'm not too fussed. Nothing too extravagant." I didn't need any extra attention bought my way.
Malkin nodded her head and began browsing again before her tongue got the best of her and she said, "What about the use of Dark magic?"
"Excuse me," my mother muttered, confused.
"At the balls, do the men use dark magic?" Malkin asked.
"Of course not," my mother replied, still forcing a smile of lies on her lips, "where ever do you hear such things, Mal?"
I felt a little uncomfortable. I didn't like how this old lady was assuming such a thing about my mother's face. My mother is too kind to put her in her place. This old unfiltered woman may be right about the balls, it would not surprise me but my mother wouldn't be involved in that kind of thing. Not my sweet, gentle mother.
If she didn't stop I was going to put her in her place myself.
"Ah, here. This one is perfect," Malkin pulled out a long black dress with a low neck and open back. I held it in my hand, feeling the silky fabric. I wasn't going to admire it, I wasn't going to admit that it was perfect. Not for the occasion that I will be wearing it too.
"A simple, gorgeous dress, perfect for a ball," Malkin said and then suddenly, with a flick of her wand, which I didn't even see she pulled out, the dress was on me and my jeans and jumper seemed to no longer exist. I jumped back, feeling my stomach and a bit weary.
"Yes, yes," Malkin mumbled, "perfect."
"Eliza, you look beautiful," my mother smiled wide and her approval was the only one I needed. The only one I would ever need.
"What do you think?" she asked me.
"I like it," I admitted. But I wish I didn't have to go to this ball.
"I will get it bagged for you," Malkin said and with another flick of her wand, the dress was off my body and now in a bag, floating at my side, and my jeans and sweater now back on my body.
"Thank you so much," my mother smiled, her smile of lies she always wore, and then we left the shop.
And I was glad to be leaving.
Now, all that was left was to get this ball over and done with.
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