On the Turning Away

In the corner of the room, she sat. Her stormy grey eyes focused intently on her father’s wilted frame. He was knelt in front of his wife’s body, clutching her hand tightly in his as he buried her face in her black robes. Henry knew just how odd the scene would look to others, but at that moment what others thought of him, was of little importance. The only thing that mattered was taking in his wife’s scent, because there would soon come a time when all trace of it would vanish from the world and the only thing that would remain would be his memory of what it had been like.

Henry dreaded that moment. He couldn’t imagine waking up without her at his side or without her pillow smelling of her. That was how he had grown accustomed to waking. That was how he had awoken every single day for nearly thirty three years and to all of a sudden be without her, was unbearable to him. How he would cope with her death, he did not know. It would surely be years before he came to terms with her death. And with the situation the way it was in their native land, it would not surprise him if he went to his death, grieving hers.

The behavior exhibited by Henry, deeply troubled his daughter. She knew how ardently her parents loved one another. Even after thirty three years of marriage, they still looked at one another with love and admiration. And it was for that very reason that she was worried about what the future held for him. Henry was a sensible man, but he was also a romantic, which was often at odds with his sensibility. How he would manage his wife’s death, she did not know, but she would be there to help him through it. She was determined.

“Perhaps we should begin making the arrangements.” Henry spoke after a lengthy silence.

“I think it’s a little too late for that. All the shops are closed and the owners are most likely asleep.”

“Then we should simply discuss it,” he said. “A traditional burial is out of the question. Your mother always wanted to be cremated and to have half her ashes scattered across –”

“Dad,” Gwen interjected. “I don’t think this is the right time to discuss funeral arrangements.”

“It’s as good a time as any.” Henry argued.

Gwen shook her head. “It’s late and the last thing you need to do is fuss over the arrangements. We can do that in the morning with clearer heads.”

“Then what do you suppose I do now?” he asked.

“Rest.” She answered simply. “I know sleep won’t be a visitor tonight, but just try to rest as best you can. That way you can make it through tomorrow, because this is going to be in the paper. And people, from all over, are going to start sending us notes and flowers stating their deepest sympathies.” The mere thought of all the letters they would receive made her breath hitch. “I’ll make sure to respond to all of those, but people are going to drop by the house to wait on us and we’ll have to sit with them for awhile . . . or maybe we can put a do not disturb sign on the front door.”

“If only it were that easy.” Henry lifted his face from the cloak. “If only a sign could keep the world away.”

“A sign might not do it, but an enchantment could.” Gwen proposed. “Stay at the cottage in Kent. No one will bother you there and you can stay as long as you need. I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll sit with the visitors and respond to the letters.”

“How lovely that sounds,” Henry sighed. “But I can not run away from my responsibilities. I was her husband and as such, must show my face in public. Even if it the last thing I wish to do.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t.”

“But the Death Eaters will rejoice. They will think that they have destroyed our family and I will not give them the satisfaction.” Henry grew silent. “Your mother would never forgive me if I did.” He quickly added. “You know how she was.”

“Yeah, I do.” Gwen felt the familiar tears stinging at her eyes.

They wanted to be released, to stream down her face, but Gwen was fighting them. She refused to break down in front of her father. In his presence, she had to remain strong. And so, as the tears became more ruthless, she came to the conclusion that she would have to take a trip to America. That was the only place where she would feel comfortable enough to completely let down her walls.

“Dad,” she called to him.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“I have to return to America to pack a few things for my stay here and also, I have to make some arrangements with the Department. They have to know what I'm up to or else they’ll think I’ve run off.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Henry cleared his throat. “Are you going to go now?”

She nodded, “The sooner, the better.”

“Right,” he stood from his place on the ground. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Dad, I know the way out.”

“I know you do,” Henry smiled weakly.

“Then stay here with mum, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright then,” he stepped towards her. “You will be back soon. Won’t you?”

“I can’t tell you with great certainty how long putting things in order, is going to take. I'm thinking an hour or two, but there’s really no telling with the Department. Sometimes things get done quickly and other times the bureaucracy is impossible to work with. It’ll be fine though.” Gwen took a breath before adding, “And I’ll be back before morning. That, I can promise.”

Despite the heaviness in his heart, Henry managed a tender smile. “Have a safe journey, my lovely Gwyneth.” He took her in his arms. “And hurry back.”

To be honest, Gwen had no intention of hurrying back. The Burrow wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be. Had he not been there, then there wouldn’t have been a problem with her staying, but he was there. He was prancing about the house with that infuriating face of his. And the four times that he had been within her field of vision, she had to actively stop herself from sending a curse in his direction.

That was how it had been during their final year at Hogwarts. He would prance around the corridors with that stupid smile of his and she would try to stop herself from cursing him. For the most part, she always to control herself from acting out, but on one occasion, she couldn’t resist the temptation and cursed him so badly that he ended up in the Hospital Wing for three days.

And as she bumped into Bill, on her way out of The Burrow, she was tempted to do the same. But she wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t just curse him, especially since his parents had taken in her mother’s corpse. It would have been rude of her to send their son to St. Mungo’s while they were being so kind to her and her father. So instead of cursing at him, she settled for sending him the nastiest glare she could muster.

After glaring at him, she proceeded to walk out the door and onto the front porch.

It was from there that she apparated to her living room in Virginia. The living room was as she had left it; books still littered her coffee table, a blanket was still draped across her couch and the empty coffee mug still rested atop its coaster to prevent it from leaving a mark. The living room was exactly as it was when she had left, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like it.

It felt as if someone had invaded her home after she’d left and made a mess of it. Nothing her eyes landed upon looked right. Every single thing upset her. The books should’ve been put away in her makeshift library. The blanket should’ve been folded neatly and placed in the linen closet. And the mug, that damn mug should’ve been inside the cupboard with the rest of them, but no. All her things were out in the open where they could annoy her.

“Stupid books!” she cursed at them, her eyes brimming with tears of rage. “You’re supposed to be in the library. What the hell are you doing here?” she spoke to the books, as if expecting an answer from them. “There’s always a mess in here. Never clean, never tidy, always a fucking mess! How am I supposed to live here? How can I be expected to breathe here?!” she grabbed the books and violently chucked them onto the ground. “There! There, all better! That’s where you bloody things, belong!” she spat. “And you,” her attention turned to the coffee mug. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you!”

Within seconds, the coffee mug met its untimely demise against a nearby wall. Upon impact it shattered, breaking into tiny pieces that lay scattered across the hardwood flooring. The broken mug serve to further enrage Gwen, she turned over the coffee table, the couches as well. Soon, her entire living room lay in ruins. Gwen took her anger out on her belongings, but her anger truly lay elsewhere. At something that most people, at one time or another, are furious towards.

Simply put, she was angry at life.

Life was a cruel mistress that tricked her into believing that everything was going according to plan, that her life was going to be a happy one and that sorrow would never show its face in it again, but life – as lovely as it seemed at times – was a cruel bitch. And when Gwen least expected it, the bitch ruined everything. It might sound overdramatic, but that was exactly what life had done to her.

By taking her mother, life had effectively taken the stability from Gwen’s life.

She couldn’t go on living like before. She couldn’t live in America and work at the Department of Magic, while her mother’s murderer ran rampant across England. That wasn’t the sort of person that Gwen was. She was going to have her revenge and if that meant giving up the life she’d worked so hard to establish in America, then so be it. She’d get back to her life, once she’d taken Voldemort’s.

With nothing left to break in the living room, Gwen directed her attention to the kitchen. She threw open the cupboards and yanked their contents out, casting them over her shoulders without bothering to look where they landed. It’s not like it mattered to her. In her state of mind, all that mattered was making her home into as big of a mess as her life. That was how she dealt with her emotions.

Whenever she felt angry or sad, she broke plates and turned over tables. Not a very healthy of dealing with her emotions, she knew that, but she just didn’t care. Nothing made her feel better than causing destruction and at the rate she was going; her entire home would soon be in shambles.

The noise coming from within echoed throughout the neighborhood, alerting her neighbors that something was wrong. They knew that Gwen worked at the Department of Magic. Her picture had often been in the newspaper for one thing or another, so they thought that whatever had gone wrong was related to work she was doing. As such, they felt it best to keep out of her business. They didn’t want to upset an Auror.

Her neighbors might not have gotten involved, but there was one person standing on her front porch, contemplating whether or not they should kick the door in. That person was Adelaide and she was furious. Gwen had bailed on their plans for the evening without bothering to send an Owl explaining why. Adelaide had waited at the bar for an hour and after getting a few drinks into her, as well as a quick snack, she apparated to Gwen’s home in Virginia so she could tell her off for bailing.

“I know you’re in there!” she bellowed, as she pounded on the door. “I can hear you from outside so open the fucking door before I kick it down!” her lips pressed tightly against one another, waiting for a response. “Gwen! I'm not messing around! I’ll kick this door down, don’t think I won’t!”

She honestly thought that was going to make Gwen open the door, but seeing as how it didn’t, Adelaide took a few steps back from the door. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the door’s center. If she just kicked it hard enough, it would open. There was nothing to it. At least, that’s what she thought.

“Alright, I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just a door. Doors are kicked down all the time. It always happens on the teli. If it’s easy on the teli, it’ll be a breeze in real life.”

With that lie repeating in her mind, Adelaide felt confident enough to send her right foot crashing against the door. What happened next was to be expected. The door didn’t budge. It remained as closed as ever and Adelaide was left cursing at the top of her lungs as she clutched her foot tightly.

“Fucking bullshit!” she bellowed into the night, her dark hair failing into her face. “Ah! That’s it. No more trying to do this the muggle way.” Adelaide composed herself and drew her wand. “Confringo!”

The door didn’t stand a chance against the blasting curse.

“Hah!” Adelaide cried in triumph. “I hope you know I blasted your door for being such a horrible . . . what the –” her hold on the wand tightened. “G-Gwen?” she called to her friend. “Gwen, are you alright?”

Adelaide was tempted to fetch her older brother, an Auror that worked in Los Angeles, to check the place out. She wasn’t particularly skilled in the art of dueling. Sure, Gwen had been giving her lessons on how to defend herself, but Adelaide wasn’t one for magical combat. She worked at the Office of International Magical Cooperation. She was a diplomat that spent her days at meetings with foreign officials or with her nose in a book. That was her world. That was where she was comfortable and walking into a house that looked like it’d been ransacked, threw her way out of her comfort zone, but she still went in.

She walked through the living room, maneuvering her way through the misplaced furniture and broken appliances. Her stomach flipped when she saw the state the kitchen was in. It looked like someone had thrown up in there and the stench coming from it was appalling. Those foods weren’t meant to share an opened space. She walked all throughout the house and it wasn’t until she ventured into the room that functioned as a library, that she found Gwen.

At first she didn’t believe the wild haired figure was Gwen. She looked so savage and animalistic that there was no way it could be her friend, but the closer she got, the clearer it became that it was indeed her, and when their eyes made contact, Adelaide stumbled backwards. The pain in Gwen’s eyes was too much. It shot through Adelaide, leaving her clutching her chest for breath.

“What’s wrong?” Adelaide managed to croak out.

Her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray fell from her right hand. “My mum’s dead,” she whispered in a moment of vulnerability.

Adelaide cast her wand aside, not bothering to see where it landed, and ran towards Gwen. She took her friend in her arms, holding her tightly as if that simple embrace could make everything better. Gwen was never one to be comforted. She preferred to suffer in silence, but the pain coursing through her was much too great to endure on her own. So she sobbed. She sobbed wildly into Adelaide’s dark brown hair, drenching the curls with her salty tears.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Gwen managed to say. “My mum knew her life was in danger . . . she asked me to go back to England with her, but I said no. I said no.”

“Shh, it’s not your fault.” Adelaide tenderly rubbed her back.

“But it is!” Gwen spoke more forcefully. “If I’d have been there, she wouldn’t be dead. He’d be dead. Not my mum!” she pulled away, her tear stained face contorting into one of agonizing pain. “I would’ve killed him” she muttered darkly. “I would’ve killed the bastard with my hand and strung him up somewhere for all to see.”

Her words terrified Adelaide. She’d never seen Gwen so worked up over anything and the darkness in her eyes combined with the venom in her words, caused Adelaide to think that her friend had lost her mind.

“Who are you talking about?” she asked softly, trying not to startle Gwen with her words.

“That bastard!” cried Gwen.

“Yes.” Adelaide took in a deep breath. “But who is that bastard?”

“Voldemort,” she answered.

Gwen didn’t have to elaborate on the name. Adelaide was very well aware of who Voldemort was. She’d written several papers on him during her time at the Office of International Magical Cooperation. He was a fiend that every diplomat was well acquainted with. He was a fiend that the Office wanted dead, because if he took control of England, there was no telling what he might accomplish throughout the rest of the world.

There were countries teetering on the brink of destruction. If he went in and promised the magical communities that he would help them take power from muggles, there was little doubt in Adelaide’s minds that most countries would take his offer. People want to feel safe. They want to make sure that their children have better lives and sometimes good people will do bad things in hopes that the future will be better for their loved ones. And if that were to happen, if those countries were to fall, then war would be unleashed.

“But I'm gonna kill him for that.” Gwen wiped away the tears. “I’ll have him begging for mercy. I will.”

“Maybe you should sit down for a bit. Why don’t you take a seat somewhere and I’ll get you a draught?” Adelaide proposed. “Something to take the edge off and while you rest, I’ll get this place in order.”

“Don’t want any draught.”

“You have to take something.” Adelaide argued.

Gwen shook her head. “I'm not going to numb myself from the pain. This is what I get from turning my back on my mum when she needed me. This is my punishment and I just . . . I suppose, I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I'm not going to change your mind on that. Am I?”

“No.”

“Right then,” Adelaide reached into her jacket and pulled out her glasses. “If you’re not going to take the draught, then there’s nothing I can do about that, but please sit down so I can tidy up. You can’t live in this mess.”

“Not gonna live here anymore,” she told Adelaide. “I'm moving back to England.”

“You’re what?”

“Moving back,” Gwen repeated. “My dad, needs taking care of and let’s face it, I’ve got a score to settle.”

“You’re serious about this.”

“Yeah,” Gwen took a seat. “I can’t stay here after all that’s happened. I know it might not make sense for me to go, but I have to. And I know that I’ll get shit for it, but I honestly don’t give the slightest fuck. I'm just hoping that come Monday, I’ll be able to get everything handled.”

“I can handle all the paperwork for you.” Adelaide offered. “I’ve been called into work tomorrow and I can pick up the forms, fill them out and then give them to you to sign. That way you don’t have to worry over that.”

“Can’t ask you to do that for me,” Gwen spoke.

Adelaide chuckled lightly. “You didn’t ask me. I offered and I'm good at paperwork. It’s almost all we diplomats do, so it’ll be alright. And I'm pretty sure I’ll do a better job than you at it.”

“You sure?” she felt uncomfortable having her friends do her work for her.

“Positive.”

“Thanks, this really means a lot to me.”

Adelaide smiled in response.

“So what’d you end up doing tonight?” Gwen asked.

“Had a few drinks at the bar. Then I came here to tell you off, but that clearly didn’t happen.” Adelaide turned a table right side up and began placing books on it. “When are you going back?”

“Tonight.” She replied. “Told my dad I was going to be here for a few hours to get things together, but I was lying. I just wanted to get this out of me.”

“There’s nothing like a bit of destruction. I always prefer to destroy my waist by hitting a buffet but this destruction’s just as good. Oh look. You’ve ruined a perfectly good bottle of vodka!” she picked up the broken bottle. “This wasn’t even opened when you broke it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I'm the one that opens all the bottles,” Adelaide replied. “Well, you should probably go pack a bag or something since you’re going back. I’ll clean this up while you do that.”

Gwen did as she was told. She packed a suitcase with a few change of clothes. When she ventured downstairs, the house was it had been before she’d destroyed it.

“How’d you do that so fast?” inquired Gwen, incredulously.

“If you’d bothered to take the household spell class with me last spring, you’d be able to clean up just as fast.”

“Well, I didn’t think it’d be all that helpful. I mean, its household spells, there’s nothing grand to that.”

“Course there is! What if you have kids one day and they’ve made a mess of things and you’re expecting company in five minutes and can’t tidy up normally? You’ve got to think about those things.”

“You’re mad,” Gwen muttered.

“No, no, no. I'm practical.”

Gwen remained there only a little while longer. She soon parted ways with Adelaide and told her to drop by the house in Surrey when she had all the paperwork ready. She then apparated back to The Burrow, where she was informed that The Order had already checked her family home and that her father had returned with her mother’s body to it. She thanked Molly and then apparated to her home.

The house was silent. There were no lights turned on, nothing that would give the impression that a person was inside, but then she heard it. She heard someone weeping and her feet carried her towards her parent’s bedroom. In there, her mother lay across the bed. She no longer wore the clothes in which she’d been killed. Instead she wore her best silk pajamas.

“Dad?” she called to him.

“I never thought she’d go first.” he whispered. “Even though she was an Auror, I was always assumed that I would be the first to pass away and that she would be left to mourn me. Incredibly morbid thought, I know, but I wanted . . . I wanted it to be that way. That way I wouldn’t find myself forced to learn what a world without her in it, would be like.”

Gwen listened to him in silence, his words piercing her very being.

“When I gave my heart to your mother, I gave it to her in its entirety. There is no other who has ever dwelled within it and now, it is said to feel vacant, without its inhabitant, but I feel her. Oh how I feel her. She has become a ghost that has claimed it as her home and I shall not force her from it. If she wishes to remain there until my death, then there she shall remain. It is hers. It has always been hers . . . it shall always be hers!” he cried, his body shaking from the intensity of it. “I know how outdated I must sound. Today’s youth do not seem to share the same esteem for love that other generations have, but that is how I feel about her. And although I know I must continue. I must confess that I haven’t the faintest clue as to how I’ll do just that.”