𝓦𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝓓𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
⟠
"That'll be three galleons, seven sickles, and twelve knuts."
With an eager smile, the twelve-year-old boy pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket and began to count as the store clerk, who was all dressed in maroon, placed the Boxing Telescope, Canary Creams, Box 'O' Rockets, and Weasley Joke Box into a large paper bag. His smile disappeared, however, when he counted his last coin. "I'm sorry, Miss," he spoke. "But I only have three galleons and two sickles."
The store clerk blinked, rather surprised at being addressed 'Miss' — after all, she was only fifteen. She drummed her fingers against the paper bag. "You go to Hogwarts, right?" she asked.
The boy looked curiously up at her. Now that he thought about it, her face did seem oddly familiar and he wondered if he had seen her before at school. She was pretty, shoulder-length dark curls framing her slim face, which held all the well-sculpted features of a patrician beauty. She wore a plain maroon dress that draped over her small build, and though her body was half-hidden behind the counter, the boy could tell that she was thin — perhaps too thin. She was smiling kindly at him, but there was an emptiness in her gunmetal blue eyes.
Realizing that he was staring, the boy hastily nodded. "Yeah, I do. My name's Dale, and I'm in Hufflepuff. I'll be going into my second year come September."
"Well, Dale," said the store clerk, leaning slightly over the counter, "if you promise me that you'll use a Canary Cream on a Slytherin, we can let it slide."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
Dale beamed and exchanged his coins for the bags of goodies. "Thank you!" he said, and he was just about to turn to leave when his curiosity got the better of him. "Er, Miss," he spoke timidly. "You look familiar. Do you...do you go to Hogwarts as well?"
"I'll be going into my sixth year."
"Which House?"
"Gryffindor."
And with that, Dale finally realized who the witch standing before him was, and everything from her pretty features to her empty eyes made sense; he had heard much about Edelyn Black from his two older brothers.
"I...I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then?"
"For sure! I mean...I'll have to make sure you stay true to your word, don't I? No prank no goods, Dale."
He chuckled and waved her goodbye before exiting the store to meet his mother, who was staring wide-eyed up at a parliament of owls delivering that evening's issue of the Daily Prophet. "Come on, mum." He tugged at her arm. "Colin and Dennis are probably finished at Madam Malkin's!"
Back inside, the store clerk looked out the window and sighed at the dark gloomy atmosphere that now suspended over Diagon Alley. Glancing down at the old watch that hung loosely around her wrist, she read that it was already half-past six.
"Miss Black?"
Edelyn winced. Forcing a curl to her lips, she turned her head to see a witch a few years older than her with a pixie cut standing to her left.
"Yes, Verity?"
"I wanted to ask if you could — um — you see, Mr Weasley asked me to stock up on supplies, but there are so many shelves and so many different products, and I'm fairly new, and—"
"You want me to do that while you take the register?"
Verity smiled sheepishly. "If that's okay?"
"Yes, of course. I was growing bored here, anyways."
"Oh, thank you, Miss—"
Edelyn hastily shook her head. "Verity, please, just call me Lyn."
Verity nodded and Edelyn moved around her toward the back of the store. Picking up a box labelled « Fanged Frisbees », she headed her way up the stairs to the second floor, not at all surprised when she found the shelf she was searching for completely empty.
She had spent the past fortnight of her summer holidays working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She was there from nine in the morning to ten at night every single day, leaving the store only to sleep, which she did at the Burrow in Fred and George's old room.
The joke shop served as the perfect distraction. It kept her busy and her mind astray from her own disconsolate thoughts, and it acted as the perfect excuse to be away from the Burrow. Though she was grateful for Mr and Mrs Weasley taking her in — the Order believing it safer for her to stay there than at the Diggories —, she could not bear the pitying looks from Mr Weasley or the smothering hugs from Mrs Weasley, and though Ron was her best mate, she didn't fancy spending time with him either. He was constantly looking at her with eyes etched in worry, a worry that wasn't unjustified, but a worry that made Edelyn's mind drift back to that dreaded night at the Ministry of Magic. For that, she could not stand him.
The twins were her safe haven.
But Fred and George Weasley were themselves starting to grow worried. Day after day, they noticed how thin and frail her figure had become and how her gunmetal blue eyes, once sparkling with mischief, were now empty and void. They also couldn't, for the life of them, get a genuine smile out of her, let alone a laugh.
And Godric did they miss her laugh.
"Why don't we just let her sleep here tonight?" George suggested at three minutes to ten as he and Fred entered their living room. Edelyn was snuggled under a blanket on their sofa, her knees hugged to her chest and head rested against the sofa arm. Beside her laid a quill and some parchment — she had been undoubtedly scribbling ideas for new products when she dozed off.
Fred shook his head. "Have you gone mad? Mum would bloody murder us!"
George sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
Mrs Weasley had, reluctantly, allowed Edelyn to work at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes under two strict conditions: (1) Edelyn remains inside the shop at all times, and (2) Fred and George bring her back to the Burrow by ten each night. These conditions were not only set by Mrs Weasley but by Professor Dumbledore as well, for Edelyn's powers had been revealed during the battle at the Ministry in June and the girl was now a potential target.
Crouching down in front of her, Fred gave her arm a gentle shake.
She groaned.
"Come on, Lynster, we need to get you back to the Burrow."
"Can't I just sleep here tonight?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.
Walking over, George pulled the blanket off her body and Edelyn reluctantly blinked her eyes back open.
"I don't fancy on being murdered by my own mother, do you, Freddie?" he said.
With a grin playing his lips, Fred pulled Edelyn up to her feet and said, "No, Georgie, I most certainly don't."
Edelyn yawned and banged her forehead against his chest. "I wouldn't mind..."
The twins both snorted.
"Come on, Lyn," said George, grasping one of her hands and twirling her around as Fred took the other. "Ready?"
Yawning once more, she nodded, and with a loud CRACK, they disapparated.
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Harry's eyes were beginning to feel awfully heavy as he sat at the table in the Burrow's kitchen, working through the bowl of soup before him as Mrs Weasley went to collect dirty laundry from her children's bedrooms. Upon hearing the front door open and voices hum into the kitchen, he looked up and gave a sheepish smile as he saw the three newcomers enter.
"Hi," he greeted.
"Why, hello, Harry! Fancy—" began George, grinning as he propped his elbow up on Edelyn's shoulder. "—seeing you here," finished Fred, walking over to the counter and grabbing a cookie from a jar, only to be caught by Mrs Weasley who walked in right at that moment.
"You're late," she said, a scowl on her face and hands propped on either side of her hips.
Fred took a bite out of the cookie and grinned innocently at his mother.
Her scowl did not falter.
"Mum, we're late by like one minute," said George with an exasperated roll of his eyes, slipping his arm off of Edelyn's shoulder.
"Still!" their mother huffed.
"It's my fault really, Mrs Weasley," Edelyn chimed in, "I fell asleep in their flat."
Mrs Weasley's scowl quickly faded into a sympathetic smile — a smile that the girl hated, for she did not need sympathy — as her gaze shifted to Edelyn. "Oh, very well, dear," she spoke kindly. "Are you hungry? There's some beef stew. Harry's only arrived, so you can take a seat and have some supper if you'd—"
"Oh no, that's alright, Mrs Weasley," Edelyn said hastily, avoiding Harry's gaze.
"If you're sure, dear. Fred, George, you two ought to head back. It's getting late."
"We only just got here!" George exclaimed in mock hurt.
"And you call yourself our mother," Fred added.
"I feel so unloved!" George cried, placing a hand over his heart.
Harry held back a snigger as Mrs Weasley shot them a look that was reserved only for the twins.
"Well, Freddie, we clearly aren't welcome."
"No, Georgie, clearly not," Fred replied, somewhat absentmindedly as his eyes fell on Edelyn. She was biting down on her bottom lip and had a rather uncomfortable expression on her face. "Come on," he said, stepping over to her and giving her a gentle nudge in the side. "Let's get you to bed, and then we'll be out of your hair, mum."
Without so much as a look to Harry, Edelyn nodded and followed Fred out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second-floor landing. After quickly changing into her pyjamas in the bathroom, she slipped into bed and leaned her back against the headboard as Fred sat down beside her.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Y-yeah," she muttered, biting down on her lip as she stared down at the covers.
Fred gave her a sad smile and pecked her on the cheek before saying, "Promise you'll at least try and have a good night's sleep?"
She blinked at him, rather taken aback by his words, and murmured an apathetic "alright" before snuggling down under the covers and resting her cheek on the pillow.
Giving her a pat on the arm, he stood to leave and was a step away from the door when he heard her mumble, "Night, Fred," before rolling over to her other side and staring out the window.
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When Edelyn rolled out of bed the next morning, it was with dark shadows looming beneath her eyes and an open cut on her bottom lip.
"Morning, dear," Mrs Weasley greeted when she entered the kitchen.
"Morning," Edelyn replied, taking a seat beside Mr Weasley, who had his nose buried in that day's issue of the Daily Prophet. She sipped on a cup of coffee — bittersweet with milk and sugar — and watched as Mrs Weasley made breakfast, flipping sausages, slicing oranges, toasting bread, stirring porridge, and scrambling eggs. She couldn't help but notice that she was putting in a lot more effort than usual and supposed it was because Harry had now joined them.
"Do you want any breakfast, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, unsurprised when Edelyn shook her head.
"Well, I best be off," Mr Weasley said once he had finished his food. "Have a good day, Lyn."
"Thanks," Edelyn replied with a small smile. "You too, Mr Weasley."
Mr Weasley gave her a pat on the shoulder and then strode over to his wife, pressing a peck on her cheek before heading out the front door and disapparating from the front lawn. After finishing the last gulp of her coffee, Edelyn looked up at the grandfather clock that hung on the wall and noted that it was now five past nine. She furrowed her eyebrows; Fred and George usually came and picked her up by a quarter to.
"You're staying at the Burrow today, Lyn," Mrs Weasley explained as if having read her mind.
Edelyn blinked. "How come?"
"Because, dear, ever since you returned from Hogwarts, you've been working. That's every day for the past two weeks, and now, it's time you have a day off."
"But there's really no need, Mrs Weasley," Edelyn protested. "I like working. It's not stressful or anything. I'm perfectly happy to—" But Mrs Weasley folded her arms and said firmly, "No, Lyn, you need a break, and that's that. It's the summer holidays. You can't just spend all your time at that shop. And besides, Harry's here now, and Hermione's going to arrive later today — she'll be sharing Fred and George's room with you, by the way. You haven't seen them in a while, and I know you've barely spoken to Ron. This will be an opportunity for you four to catch up!"
Edelyn held back a groan of frustration. Catching up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione was the last thing she wanted to do. Before she could express how she would much rather tend to the joke shop, however, Ron entered the kitchen and took a seat beside her.
"Where's Harry, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked by way of greeting.
"Good morning to you too," Ron mumbled with a roll of his eyes. "He's having a wash. He'll be down soon."
Taking that as her cue to leave, Edelyn excused herself from the table and went upstairs to change out of her shop uniform and into a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt that had once belonged to Cedric — though it had gone through multiple washes by now, she was convinced it still smelled of sandalwood.
Ruffling through her trunk for a jumper, she came across a square tin box. Her stomach lurched and she gnawed on her bottom lip as she opened the lid to see a ring laid atop a stack of old photographs. She brushed her fingers against the emerald fire opal jewel. Slipping it onto her middle finger, she began to peruse through the photographs that she had taken with her from Sirius' bedroom at number twelve Grimmauld Place.
As she looked through the moving images of her parents in their youth, tears stung her eyes and a terrible pain clenched in her chest. Wrenching. Stabbing. Burning. The injustice of it all ripped at her insides. There were so many words left unspoken, so many stories left untold, so many birthdays left uncelebrated, and so much love left unexpressed. Just as salty streams began to prickle her skin, the distant call of her name pulled her thoughts away from sorrow. Hastily wiping her eyes, she closed the lid and buried the tin box back under the clothes in her trunk before opening the bedroom door to see Hermione standing outside.
"Oh, Lyn, I've missed you!" she exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "But we'll have to catch up later. Dumbledore's waiting for you in the living room. He wants to speak to you and Harry."
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❛ One-sixty. ❜
published: April 17, 2018
⦅ thank you for reading! ⦆
―hugs, aelizia
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