Status: Some chapters may be NC-17. In that case they will be labeled as such.
The Mirror of Erised
A Simple Act of Kindness.
The castle was unrecognizable. Bits of hard stone had collapsed, debris littered the floor, and the Great Hall was riddled with the bodies of the dead. Mourners shuffled down the line, strangled cries leaving their lips as they recognized the faces of the dead. Maybe it was someone in their house, or in their transfiguration class. Maybe it was the head boy or girl, the one they thought was a prude until now.
I couldn’t look at them. I sat down and stared at the ceiling. It’s a weird feeling, to be surrounded by the dead. I felt like all of them were staring at me, disapprovingly. “YOU let your baby sister die,” they would say. “YOU did this to her. YOU were supposed to protect her and YOU failed her. It’s YOUR fault.” And they would be right.
I watched George weave his way through the Hall. Two days after the battle and bodies were still being pulled from the rubble - death eaters, students, professors, and alumni alike. Somewhere was Mandy’s body. I hadn’t seen it after Connor had pulled me away, kicking and screaming, that horrific night. A tear rolled down my cheek.
Before I knew it, George had returned and was pulling me to my feet, leading me through the throng of people gathered around the bodies, strangled sobs rising up and filling the Great Hall. He pulled me into an empty corridor and closed the door, blocking out the noise. I wipe the tears from my eyes and looked up, meeting two sympathetic pools of chocolate brown, and I realized what we were doing here. He knew I didn’t show emotion well. He knew it was a rare feat to see me cry.
He was letting my break down in private.
I sat down, resting my back and head against the wall and allowed the tears to flow like Niagra falls. I heard him shuffle his feet awkwardly before taking a seat beside me, slinging his arm over my shoulder and pulling my head to his chest, rubbing my back soothingly.
After five minutes of silent sobs, I lifted my head, noting the wet spot I had left on his blue sweater. “Sorry,” I practically mouthed, embarrassed.
He shook his head. “Don’t be,” he whispered.
It was strange, opening up to this unknown boy I knew by name only. Of course I knew he was one of the infamous Weasley twins, the prankiest pranksters Hogwarts had ever housed, but what does reputation really tell you about a person?
Nothing, as I would soon learn. It tells you nothing.
I couldn’t look at them. I sat down and stared at the ceiling. It’s a weird feeling, to be surrounded by the dead. I felt like all of them were staring at me, disapprovingly. “YOU let your baby sister die,” they would say. “YOU did this to her. YOU were supposed to protect her and YOU failed her. It’s YOUR fault.” And they would be right.
I watched George weave his way through the Hall. Two days after the battle and bodies were still being pulled from the rubble - death eaters, students, professors, and alumni alike. Somewhere was Mandy’s body. I hadn’t seen it after Connor had pulled me away, kicking and screaming, that horrific night. A tear rolled down my cheek.
Before I knew it, George had returned and was pulling me to my feet, leading me through the throng of people gathered around the bodies, strangled sobs rising up and filling the Great Hall. He pulled me into an empty corridor and closed the door, blocking out the noise. I wipe the tears from my eyes and looked up, meeting two sympathetic pools of chocolate brown, and I realized what we were doing here. He knew I didn’t show emotion well. He knew it was a rare feat to see me cry.
He was letting my break down in private.
I sat down, resting my back and head against the wall and allowed the tears to flow like Niagra falls. I heard him shuffle his feet awkwardly before taking a seat beside me, slinging his arm over my shoulder and pulling my head to his chest, rubbing my back soothingly.
After five minutes of silent sobs, I lifted my head, noting the wet spot I had left on his blue sweater. “Sorry,” I practically mouthed, embarrassed.
He shook his head. “Don’t be,” he whispered.
It was strange, opening up to this unknown boy I knew by name only. Of course I knew he was one of the infamous Weasley twins, the prankiest pranksters Hogwarts had ever housed, but what does reputation really tell you about a person?
Nothing, as I would soon learn. It tells you nothing.