Torn Away
Warnings for: major character deaths, semi-graphic violence
British Auror Office, 2nd May 2003
I stare numbly at the brief, rushed letter laid on my desk, which I have read numerous times with little comprehension.
Harry,
Somebody put me under Imperius. I don’t know whom. He was hooded and masked. Male though. He forbids me from speaking to anybody about this, so I’m writing to you. He wanted me to wait and then kill Andy and Teddy and you. I’m trying to throw it off again. I did it once and he beat me. I hope I can do it again. But be sure to guard yourself and your family, Harry. So sorry.
Hannah
I feel… nothing.
The letter arrived this morning on my desk. And this morning, too, an Auror team was dispatched to investigate the deaths of Andromeda Tonks and Theodore Lupin at Diagon Alley, said to be killed by a knife to the chest by Hannah Abbot by eye witnesses, before she killed herself with the same knife.
I can’t think. I can’t feel.
Somebody is suddenly seated across from me. Brown hair, brown eyes. Just as numb.
`He lost his future,` is the first thought that is able to penetrate the numbness inside my skull, an eternity after. `I lost my family. He lost his future. Teddy. Hannah. Teddy. Hannah. My family. His future. Andy. She’s free. I’m lost.`
I stand up on weak, shaky legs, and so does the other person. `Familiar. Comfortable. Gentle. Silent. Almost-brother.`
I skirt the desk, using its edges as my crutch, and so does he.
We meet on the middle, and cling to each other. Dried eyed. Too numb for tears.
`Neville,` my mind whispers.
Shell Cottage, 3rd May 2003
“Harry?”
“Yes, it’s me, Bill. Could I come in?”
“I thought you were…. I heard the news, Harry. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Bill.”
“Aren’t you…. Why are you here? Don’t mistake me, I’m glad that you aren’t alone at home right now, it’s never good when in… this situation, but… why are you here? Does the Auror Corps need something from me?”
I let out a short, bitter chuckle. “I’m quitting the job, Bill,” I confess. “But it’s not why I came.”
I rake a hand through my hair, then continue more diffidently. “So sorry, we rarely chatted, before this. I don’t even know if you picked your old job back up….”
Bill, seated beside me on the couch, pats my knee. “No mind, Harry,” he says. “The war…. It took much from us. From you. And we took different ways to recover.” He looks wistfully round his neat little living-room, then, and sighs. “The goblins nearly kicked me out of Gringotts because of the three of you. But then Missus Tonks smoothed things over, and I got my desk job again, though in a lower position. I’m applying for a field job again, since Victoire is five, now.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “Sorry.”
He gives me a stern eye, for that. “I said, no mind, Harry. Missus Tonks smoothed it over. Besides, the goblins knew very well that what you did was for the war effort. They didn’t want to get overrun by the Death Eaters just like you and I. They just couldn’t accept that a human saved them, indirectly.”
I snort. He grins a little.
“Now, why are you here?” He pokes at my knee with a finger. “You aren’t fighting with Ron again, aren’t you?”
It’s my turn to sigh.
Shaking my head, I confess, “We haven’t been in contact, too, aside from the shared flat. He’s busy practising with the Cannons when he’s not on duty, while I need to take care of the estates and my own studies. Our teams don’t often share the same shifts, too.”
Then, before we can fall further into small talks, I blurt out, “Bill, would you take me up as your apprentice in curse-breaking? I…. Andy didn’t approve of it, more than being an Auror, but….” I choke into silence. `But Andy isn’t here any longer, and I need something – anything – to occupy myself to keep from being mad,` is what I want to say, but the words refuse to come out.
He regards me silently, seriously, his eyes sharp. I fidget under his gaze, but still don’t manage to say anything else.
And then, abruptly, he asks back, “Do you know what the Potters usually specialise in, aside from potions?”
I shrug.
“It’s warding and enchanting, Harry,” he tells me. “They’ve got specialty in moulding spells and wards together so everything’s seamless. You can defeat their enchantments and wards only by brute force, like Fiendfyre on the Potter Manor. You should go hunt down some journals of your ancestors and learn from them. I can’t teach you that. It’s your family magic. I can teach you how to define and unravel wards and curses, but the Potters are rumoured to have applied a more intuitive way on those, too, so I don’t know how good will it do you if you learn it from me.”
Harold Potter. So it’s why Andromeda Black the First wanted to marry Harold Potter the Second. It’s the warding, and enchantments, and… moulding, including moulding people to do your bidding. What a steep, slippery slope.
I slump against the fluffy back of the couch.
Bill pokes at my knee again. “Don’t try anything yet, Harry,” he warns. “Just go read the journals, and I’ll supervise your first try. I’ll even swear an oath not to tell anybody about how you’re doing things, in case I stumble on it. But let yourself mourn, now, and go find your feet again.”
“We mourned Fred, Harry, for a year. At least give yourself a week to mourn Andy and Teddy,” he snaps when I open my mouth, about to say no.
My mouth clicks shut.
I look away.
He sighs, stands up, drags me to my feet, and hugs me close.
“I don’t know you much, Harry,” he murmurs gently into my hair, “but Ron talked much about you, and I’ve got eyes to see. You prize family above all, and your family is gone, now. You must accept it, but it doesn’t mean you just put it aside. They deserve to be remembered, but how can you remember them if you run away from their memories?” His breath hitches, but then he forges on, “I did that, too, about Fred. Fleur helped me. Trust me, Harry, it only hurts at first.”
And I do trust him, at least in this.
So, for the first time since I got the news yesterday, I let go.