Hugs
The restoration took the entire Summer. Younger students returned early to help clear away the structural remnants of the battle. The older students had worked hard to clear the bodies and blood before they arrived. I was among them. I sifted through the rubble and the gore, magically clearing it away until only the memory of the horror remained, like an old, blurry photograph which came to haunt me every night. Her face. I associated it with every dead body.
Factually, I knew a human had dozens of feet of intestines. But, I did not realize just how much that was when it came bursting out of you.
All adults who fought in the battle received mandated therapy from St. Mungo’s and a law-enforcement opportunity. The seventh-forms get the option to repeat their school year so they can complete their NEWTs, ideally without the threat of torture or death this time around. I chose the latter, to the surprise of a few: Professor Sprout, my Head of House, and some of the old D-A guard.
I would be joining Hermione Granger, a girl I knew only as well as Harry Potter’s fleeting, clandestine classes would allow. She is one of very few Gryffindors who chose to return. In contrast, I can only recall one Hufflepuff fighter taking the job over NEWTs: Leanne, who is all but grafted to Katie Bell’s side. All Ravenclaw members of Dumbledore’s Army are returning, to no one’s surprise. And only the Dunce Slytherins would need to necessarily redo their term, since they weren’t nearly as disadvantaged in their education.
I will see familiar faces. Plenty of them. But, Alice’s twin, Eliza, took the job offer along with the famous Boy Who Lived Twice, and her face is one I needed to see the most, if only I could just pretend. But, I can’t blame her for her choice. I wish I was brave enough to do the same, so I wouldn’t have to look at the place where my best friend died. I was told another twin was murdered that night. Alice always said she had a special connection to Eliza, that they shared some sort of mystical bond. I wonder if Eliza still feels Alice.
I do.
I also wonder if the trick shop owner feels his twin, and if the rest of his ridiculously huge family, and all their friends, feel their presence in the absence.
“I didn’t think I could form those thoughts into words,” I mumbled, amazed at the small feat.
My therapist, a nurse and social aid from St. Mungo’s, gives me a kind smile from her leather chair across the way. We’ve taken over Pomfrey’s office, which still maintained some structural integrity. But, the chair itself was still a bit of a smoldering mass, having been hit with possibly a tiny few flames bit of fiendfyre, like 99% of the castle, in some mystery events of the battle. Her name is Mrs. Xiāo, but most had difficulty pronouncing her name, so she goes by May. It’s so appropriate, she radiates life and springtime, despite her age. Her wrinkled, arthritic hands always remain free of quill and parchment. I suspect her memory is eidetic, that she doesn’t need to take notes. I bet she was a Ravenclaw.
“It’s good you’re finally getting it all out.” She hands me a tissue, her hand betraying a slight, chronic tremor. I hope it wasn’t some painful affliction.
I wipe my face with the tissue. Talking about Alice always made me cry. Just thinking about her made me cry. I’m surprised I have water left in my body after this Summer.
“I–feel–so–guilty,” I sob into the tissue, reducing it to a soggy paper mache in seconds. “I still feel like it’s my fault she’s dead.” I wasn’t fast enough, talented enough. I could have conjured the spell a fraction of a second sooner, produced one with more power. Instead, I make it only in time to see her soul floating up and away, a tiny pinpoint of a light among the darkness of that terrible night. The Dementors were gone, but so was she.
“The only one to blame has already paid the ultimate price for her death.”
“Maybe if I never joined Dumbledore’s Army, she wouldn’t have…Maybe if–” Why am I arguing for my own culpability? It makes no sense, but the guilt I feel outweighs every rational thought.
“--If you dragged her away from Hogwarts before the battle?” Xiāo questioned, helping me to see the ridiculousness of my thoughts. “You are not a clairvoyant, Miss Le Pen. Some things are just out of our hands. You have nothing to feel guilty for. Alice would want you to know that.” Her eyes shift down to my book in hand. I struggled with speaking. Every time Alice’s face pops into my head, my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. So, May turned our therapy into a book club. A very depressing book club. She continued, “One of the reasons I wanted you to read Weisel’s account was because he, too, faced a crossroads…of whether to believe in the convictions he grew up with, or abandon them. From what you’ve told me of the battle, you have more guilt than just with Alice, or the guilt of a survivor. And your upbringing…I know faith is important to you, even if it clashes with being a witch.”
“I’ve reconciled the issues with my mom’s religion a long time ago, but…Do you think I should feel guilty for the…other thing?”
The ‘other thing’. I’m really not sure what else to call making such a shameful, brutal move in battle, even if my enemy was a monster.
“No,” May said firmly with a trembling shake of her head. “Never. But it is clear you are questioning all you know. You are questioning whether you are good enough. And, you shouldn’t. That was the point of the reading assignment.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.”
Weisel stumbled through 50 miles of snow. The Death March. He lost faith in humanity multiple times over. Still, he held onto his beliefs in the end. All I did was go through one battle. I have no excuse to forsake mine.
Still, I fought to feel my own guilt. “I know how a duel should be performed. And, I ignored that.”
“But, not without good reason,” May assured me. “And you won’t ignore it, again. You aren’t Fallen, Enora. It is merely a small stumble to you. It isn’t even that to me, nor to anyone else. Focus on your studies. Your future. You have a bright one. Have hope.”
The ‘other thing’.
It was disgraceful. Desperate. Full of malice. And so stupid.
Tears flowed freely. I felt chilled to the bone, even though the dementors were finally repelled. I had hung onto Alice’s body for as long as the battle would allow. But daylight broke, and the dead were collected. I begged some Auror I didn’t know to let me stay with her, but he wouldn’t allow it. Then, we faced Voldemort and his followers. We stood, bloodied and broken, staring down evil wizards and witches clad in black. Harry was dead, cradled in Hagrid’s arms. Hope was lost. And Voldemort was calling for defectors.
The tears had long since dried from my cheeks by then. I felt empty. Absolutely nothing. No, that wasn’t true. I felt the cold. Even in Summer, the air held a chill, and it hardened me for the crucial moments after.
I stepped forward. Draco had hugged his Dark Lord. Strangely, the fiend motioned for me to do the same. I vaguely realized Neville was next in line after me. I suppose it was some sort of symbolic gesture, this embrace. A crossroads to the other side. As a fake show of faith, I tucked my wand visibly in my boot buckle. I glanced down, never meeting the thing’s eyes.
“I am only a halfblood,” I whispered. My throat was too raw from screaming and crying to speak more loudly. It was a lie. A dirty lie.
“But, a Hufflepuff. A truly loyal subject, at last.” The thing grinned.
‘It’ held me, and I, ‘it’.
The cold set in deeper. I could not feel my fingers holding its black robes. Voldemort released me, and I attacked. I gripped the evil thing’s throat, squeezed with all my might, dug my nails in hard until they bent inside its flesh. We fell to the ground, my grip loosened, and some powerful blow catapulted me away. I rolled to a stop, seeing the fangs of a fearsome snake ready to take me out, but the metallic flash of a sword decapitated it at the last moment, saving my life. I heard Voldemort roar. Harry was alive, and running like hell. Neville was dragging me back to safety–
“Miss Le Pen…Enora…as cliche as it is, what doesn’t kill us–”
“--May succeed next time,” I finished for May, and she frowned at me, displeased with my attitude.
“But, not you.”
Goodness…happiness… these things vanquished Alice's murderers…they could help me now…so strange, that I can’t fucking feel them.
May reached out to hug me.