SEVERUS SNAPE WAS DEAD - snake bites punctured his neck and blood dripped down his pallid skin. He was murdered for what was believed to be the true ownership of the Elder Wand, and with his dying breath, he had done what they had thought was the impossible: he had tugged at the Golden Trio's heartstrings. Somehow, despite their dislike for the wizard, which had developed upon years of watching him torment and bully the students of Hogwarts, they had felt sympathy for him. They had felt sympathy for a man who was neither terribly bad nor honourably good; just another soul from which the world had stripped away innocence. But that did not mean he was less-deserving of his end, for one's own pain can never justify the pain instilled on others.
The walk back from the Shrieking Shack was a quiet one, and Edelyn felt a heaviness weigh upon her as she stepped into the deserted Entrance Hall. The first wave of battle had ended, Lord Voldemort's troops had retreated, and they had an hour's time to recuperate; to heal the wounded, round up the dead, and for Harry, to give himself up before battle recommenced.
Though the air was now still, the ghosts of battle screamed at every corner: the flagstone underneath their feet was littered with emeralds, pieces of marble, and splintered wood, all stained in carmine blood; the stone walls were lined with cracks; the castle itself had suffered just as much as those who had fought inside.
Approaching the Great Hall, Edelyn could see through the open doors that the House tables were gone. Instead, the survivors huddled in groups with arms hung around each other's shoulders and heads ducked low. Some stood on the side and others crouched over loved ones who were laid in the middle of the Hall. Taking a shaky breath, she was about to enter when Ron suddenly turned around and stopped her.
"Lyn-" Tears brimmed his eyes. "Lyn, before you go in, I - I should-" But his voice broke and his body trembled; Hermione grasped his arm to keep him upright.
Edelyn knitted her brow. "What - What's wrong?" she asked, and when Ron did not respond, she flickered her gaze to Hermione, only to see that she was crying.
Right leg beginning to twitch, Edelyn turned to Harry, hoping for him to speak and alleviate the anxiety that was now tightening around her throat. But Harry simply looked straight ahead into the Great Hall, eyes refusing to meet hers.
Swallowing hard, Edelyn pulled her hand out of Harry's grasp and locked eyes with Ron once more. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, she thought he was going to supply her with an answer, but he soon closed it again. Realizing, perhaps, that nothing he said could lessen the blow, he stepped aside and allowed her passage.
Her eyes lingered on him in a moment's hesitation before she walked past him and into the Great Hall.
The first thing she saw was Dale. He and another were crouched over a still body, and hearing her approaching footsteps, he looked up with lips curled into a grieving frown. Kneeling down beside him, Edelyn tried to form words of comfort, but before she could, Dale flung his arms around her. For a fraction of a second, he simply clung to her, then his body heaved and he began to sob into her shoulder.
Rubbing the small of his back, Edelyn met eyes with his older brother, Dennis. Tears were silently streaming down his cheeks and he had a lost expression on his face - the expression of a boy who couldn't quite wrap his mind around a world wherein Colin Creevey no longer existed.
It was a long while until Dale released her.
"Thank you," he sniffled. Then, gesturing to her tear-soddened shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry about your robes."
Edelyn smiled a small smile and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I think the state of my robes is the least of our worries right now."
Then, rising to her feet, she stepped away and scanned the Hall: Neville was being nursed by Luna and Madam Pomfrey; Dean and Seamus were stood together; the Patil twins were mourning over the loss of Lavender Brown; Slughorn was slumped on a bench with Flitwick; McGonagall was speaking to Kingsley and Moody. Then, on the far end of the room, she saw the Weasleys.
She dithered with every movement forward, right leg twitching with such force her knees threatened to buckle. They were huddled around something, or perhaps, someone; she could yet to tell, for Bill and Fleur were obscuring her view. But then, as Ginny reached over and gripped her eldest brother's shoulders, he shifted, and Edelyn's heart stopped.
The world suddenly tore at the seams.
At first, the ground beneath her only rattled like it does at King's Cross when a train passes through its platforms - a slight quiver that brings ripples to the surface of a cup of hot tea. Then, all at once, it shook with a thundering force - up, down, up, down -, and Edelyn felt as if the floor had been ripped from below. The glass windows shattered all around, House bannisters fell off the walls, stone dust and rubble rained down from the growing cracks in the ceiling.
But there was no sound. No deafening noise of an explosion. No boom. No crack. Everything was silent as it fell apart, all except for a soft, high-pitched ring that buzzed in Edelyn's ears like a never-ending dial of B flat.
As the earth continued to violently rumble, her feet carried her onward, and with each step, the numbness in her body slowly drifted into sharp stabs of pain. Heads turned to her as she passed, mouths opened and closed, but Edelyn could pay no mind. Her thoughts were clouded, vision blurred, and all she could register was her inner monologue that screamed in denial. No, it stated, as if in saying so, it would no longer be true. It's not. It can't be.
And then she was crouched down beside Mrs Weasley, the elder witch's hand meeting her shoulder, and a lost expression formed on her face, much like the one Dennis Creevey wore - the expression of a girl who couldn't quite wrap her mind around a world wherein Fred Weasley no longer existed.
She gripped his arm, fingers tremoring as an agonizing ache rose in her cheeks, and the numbness washed away completely into a gut-wrenching stitch as his name slipped past her lips.
"No." She shook her head. "No." She repeated, and her eyes stung but remained dry, like smoulder in sand. Then, with a whimper, she released his arm and leaned over him, hands fisting his robes.
"Fred - Fred, please. Please."
She didn't know what she was pleading for, but the empty beseeches continued to splutter from her sore throat as she buried her face into his chest.
Gunpowder: she could smell it so strongly, as if she had just nuzzled her nose into a box of Bombastic Bombs and Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Was it coming from George, who was sobbing into his father's arms, or was it from Fred? From the singed threads of his clothes that covered his skin which now looked so pale and felt so so cold?
Edelyn squeezed her eyes shut as Mrs Weasley caressed her hair and whispered soft words into her ears, but instead of soothing the pain that pinched every nerve, it only made it worse.
"Fred, please. Please, I need you."
Her body gave a heave and her arms reached up to wrap around his neck. She wanted to pass her own warmth onto him, unwilling to accept that he was truly gone.
But he was.
And it hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt like it had that night three years ago, and suddenly, it wasn't Fred lying motionlessly beneath her, but Cedric. Cedric, whose eyes stared up at her: cold and empty. Then, it was the sight of Sirius falling into the veil that flashed through her mind, and Edelyn wanted to scream. She wanted to scream, because in this moment of agonizing distress, the only person who could possibly make her feel better, possibly coax her to breathe, was the man for whom she was grieving.
"Please, Fred, I need you," she implored, and it was nothing but the truth, for Fred had been that something, always there and always understanding, and he was that something she needed now. She needed him to wrap her in his arms and caress her hair. Needed him to dip toothpicks into chocolate and distract her with mischief. Needed him to offer her Firewhiskey, let her step onto his toes, and sway clumsily to music. She needed to see him, to feel him, to hear him. To hear his laugh, which was simultaneously like an unlike a yawn: more lively but equally as contagious.
"I'm s...s-so sorry," she whimpered, lifting herself up to stare down at him, thumb shakily wiping the dirt from off his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Fred." She closed her eyes then opened them once more. "I'm sorry I couldn't - I couldn't be what you wanted me to be."
She leant down and planted a gentle kiss to his collarbone.
With hesitation, she rose to her feet and made to turn away, but as she did so, another sight caught her eyes, and it was like the knife that had been speared into her heart twisted and turned until scarlet gushed through the wound.
"No," she exhaled, and frantically shook her head. "No, no, no." She clasped her hands over her mouth as sickness crashed over her.
"Lyn."
At the sound of her name, Edelyn's gaze flickered away from the dead bodies of Remus and Tonks to land on Ron, who was standing next to Hermione. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes and extended his hand, offering comfort, but Edelyn shook her head and stepped away.
The castle shook. It quaked. Rubble hailed from the ceilings.
"I - I can't." Her voice croaked, and with lungs screaming for air, she sent Ron a look of apology before running out the Great Hall.
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❛ One-sixty. ❜
PUBLISHED, 07. 27. 2018
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