So this is Year 6! Rowan, the one that can kick your ass and is the perfect candidate for Head Girl.
My heart cannot handle the fact that she died because of incompetent lazy writers. She deserved more than that fate, so I'm fixing the canon.
Headcanon time: Long story (that soon I'll explain with details) short, Rowan manages to survive the attack. She gets this bad scar in her body as the result of the spell being casted right directly at her.
She also get hospitalized, Chiara being the one taking care of her. It will be a while until she gets better and she's able to walk properly.
(There's no way wizards don't know what a stethoscope is)
And woohoo, October 1 is here, so why not kick it off with a BANG? Okay, that joke’s been used already--but hey I got a writing work here. And it’s paired with gorgeous artwork done by @swissgirlfromnowhere - I’ll put up a link to the artwork once it’s up! This was really challenging and yet still a lot of fun to write, so I’m really grateful to have signed up for this cool event.
Thanks to @hphmbang2020 for this--now let’s get things going!
---
PROMPT: Faced with attending Hogwarts on her own, having no friends and being a Werewolf, Chiara has problems to adjust to her life as a Hogwarts student and find her way to happiness. But everything changes after she meets a cute little cub from the Forbidden Forest and gets more than she bargained for.
WORD COUNT: 3566
Here’s the artwork!
---
LIGHT IN THE DARK
The glow of the flames rising high from the torches did nothing to light the darkness shrouded over the werewolf’s past.
Chiara Lobosca let out a slow, silent exhale, fists clenched at her sides. Hesitation slowed her steps, held her back in the throng of first-year students that surrounded her--the students all eagerly chattering in excitement as they followed their Prefect, Jane Court, to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Any typical kid her age right now would eagerly extend their hand to make a new friend, but she was not like the typical kid her age--not anymore.
Each of them were unaware of what she had been through. It was best to keep it that way.
It was not like she was scared of her own past. With parents that cared so much for her despite her recent afflictions, she felt like she could release her hold on the security blankets wrapped so tightly around her just a little. Still, the memory of her first and only friend learning of this secret and screaming in sheer terror at it when she realized her mistake upon seeing her transformation kept rising in her mind. The sight of what she became, when not the sweet shy girl in the day, led to the shadow forever cast over her head like an indestructible veil.
Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock. The sounds of her Prefect rapping her knuckles on a round wooden door caught her off-guard, but she managed to stop herself before she tripped over her feet. That was when she realized--tonight was the full moon. There was no way she could stay in her dormitory tonight without anyone knowing her secret.
The minute her Prefect dismissed everyone, she departed from the common room at high speed, dodging past the older students making their way into the common room and dashing out into the corridors. With what little strength she had in her conscious effort to distance herself, she wrenched the door open and sprinted across the grounds towards the forest. Her strides never faltered, feet pounding hard on the grass and breathing quickly through her mouth. As she reached the border treeline, she glanced back at the castle, distant lights from the windows twinkling like the stars in the sky.
Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.
---
“Miss Lobosca--a word, if you may.”
The first Potions class came and went, and the conclusion of the hour in the chilly dungeon brought the end of the first day of classes for the first-year students. The Ravenclaws gave a half-hearted cheer in unison as they packed their bags and left in small groups of twos and threes. Some of the Hufflepuffs did the same, anxious to get out of Professor Snape’s way. Chiara was just clearing her things and didn’t even make three steps to the exit when the Potions Master called her to the front. She did so as the last student almost tripped on his loose shoelaces oh his way out of the classroom, deliberately biting back a swear.
“What’s the issue, Professor?” Chiara asked him timidly. “It’s...not about my Cure for Boils, I hope?”
“Your Cure for Boils was...passable,” Professor Snape told her. “At the very least, it was not brewed in a cauldron coated with Bulbadox Powder.” He peered at her face, his scowl deepening. “I didn’t notice that scar on your cheek at the Welcome Feast last night.”
“S-scar?” Chiara’s eyes widened in shock, her hand raised to her cheek where the long red line was etched. Indeed, it was a wound inflicted from the night before--a sharp branch from an unyielding tree drew the mark through her flesh. The initial sting from the impact suddenly multiplied itself tenfold at the memory. “I didn’t know you paid attention to these things, sir.”
“Tch.” Professor Snape stood up straight once more and cleared up his station at the front of the classroom with a wave of his wand. Then he beckoned towards the student with a hand. “Please follow me, Lobosca.”
In a manner that was almost like following a lethargic ghost drifting along, Chiara trailed behind Snape as they walked through the halls. Her skin prickled unpleasantly at every student glancing their way, but she did not look back, paid no heed to their whispers and stares. There was no reason to engage in business that was not hers to meddle in. The further away she stood from them, the better off she would be.
Eventually they reached the school’s hospital ward--a large rectangular chamber lined with beds dressed in light green covers and divided with tall curtains of a similar shade. The vibrant colours of the sunset streamed through the large windows behind the beds, casting a warm glow into the room. Chiara glanced around at all the empty beds--it wouldn’t be long before students started filling them in with Quidditch accidents and other common illnesses ailing them. Then she watched as Professor Snape approached the school matron bustling around with a tray full of medicines--a member of staff she didn’t recall attending the Welcome Feast.
“Professor Snape!” the matron exclaimed. “Didn’t expect you to come here so soon.”
“I brought a student with me here, Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Snape explained, gesturing to Chiara with a hand. “Perhaps she could explain--”
“There’s really no need, Professor,” Chiara interrupted him softly. “It’s just a scratch from a tree branch. It’s nothing to worry about.”
The matron, Madam Pomfrey, took a careful look at the girl, her stern eyes scanning over Chiara’s body almost as if she was performing an X-ray scan. “What’s your name?” she finally asked.
“Chiara Lobosca, ma’am.”
“Were you inflicted with any long-term wounds prior to last night? I was warned by Professor Dumbledore that one of the incoming first-years is a werewolf.”
Chills suddenly rooted Chiara to the spot at the sudden question, the cold tingles shooting down her limbs numbing her coherent thoughts. She nodded tersely. “Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf when I was seven. I had to run to the Forbidden Forest last night following the Welcome Feast so I wouldn’t...disturb anyone.”
At this statement, Professor Snape’s stern face suddenly morphed into a sneer, hands clenched into fists at his side. Madam Pomfrey, however, just nodded in thought--a reaction Chiara did not expect.
“I see. You are not the first student who has come here with a lycanthropic affliction,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And thankfully this time around we have a potential solution that could relieve the symptoms, if not cure them entirely--”
“Is there?” Chiara tilted her head a little.
“Yes, Wolfsbane Potion. It is very expensive and advanced to brew, but with the resources we have here I’m sure it would be worth it to see you succeed at Hogwarts,” Madam Pomfrey reassured her, turning towards Professor Snape who looked like he just swallowed a toad. “Is that right, Professor Snape?”
Despite the discomfort projected on the Potion Master’s face, he managed to nod. “Of course, Madam Pomfrey.”
“Now, really. We must ensure that everyone remains safe and well here regardless of what happens,” Madam Pomfrey said crossly. Then she turned back to Chiara. “I’ll heal your scars, and then Professor Snape will brew the Wolfsbane Potions for you. You must take one dose per day for a full week prior to the full moon, otherwise the potion will be ineffective.”
“What will happen by the next full moon if I do take all the doses?” Chiara asked as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over the scars.
“I imagine you will still transform, but retain human intelligence,” Professor Snape responded.
Retain human intelligence? Chiara scrunched her face up in concern, but she knew better than to ask--no one here had had her condition and received this treatment before. She simply nodded again, turning her attention instead to the way Madam Pomfrey healed her wounds with her wand. There was definitely something enchanting about healing magic, the way it closed wounds faster than leaving them to nature and time. As the mark on her face finally faded away, she smiled ruefully as she lifted a hand to feel the newly healed skin.
“There we go--I think those are all the wounds I see,” Madam Pomfrey told her then. “And...Miss Lobosca?”
“Yes?”
“Do be careful, alright?”
She saw the concern glimmering in the matron’s eyes--the same glimmer in her parents’ eyes reminding her of how much she will always be pitied because of how different she was--and she nodded again.
“I will.”
---
The sunny day that beckoned to her a week after the visit to the Hospital Wing did nothing to ease her mind. Sitting in a shaded corner by the courtyard, her Herbology textbook propped open in her lap, Chiara watched as her peers socialized in small groups of twos and threes, reading together or playing Gobstones together, eating sweets or simply having a chat. She could see the Weasley brothers laughing by the fountain’s edge, Charlie flapping his arms almost as if he was a huge dragon with fiery breath. She could see Tulip and Andre playing Gobstones off to her right, the latter almost shrieking as the liquid from the marble squirted all over his robes and his opponent squealed in laughter. She could see Penny being bombarded by other students to talk about gossip going around the school. All of them had bright smiles on their faces--smiles that were natural, not forced out of fear.
She was once able to smile like that too. The days she spent with Selina felt like so long ago, a time that seemed to belong to someone else…
“Hey! Chiara! Catch me if you can!”
She could see her friend dashing away to their usual spot in the park--the big oak tree that stood a little ways away from the playset-- and she laughed as she ran to catch up to her, a wild laugh escaping into the air. The grass felt so soft beneath her bare feet, springing beneath her soles as if she was running atop a trampoline. A warm breeze blew past, lifting her hair and her spirits up so high--and then she finally tapped the trunk of the oak tree, dashing just past her friend at the last second.
“Gotcha!”
“Aw, not again!” Selina cried, folding her arms in mock anger. “You’ve always beat me in every foot race!”
“What can I say? I guess I’m just naturally good at it,” Chiara said with a shrug, slumping down toward the grass with a happy sigh. “Can’t believe the summer flew by so fast too.”
“Like the messenger god on swift wings,” Selina remarked in agreement. “Time plays funny tricks on all of us, it seems.”
Yes, time played funny tricks on everyone who knew no better than her. Why she even told Selina about her lycanthropy in the first place, she would never say out loud without seeing her terrified face--a face that tore into a single shriek.
“MONSTER!”
Could that really be all she was? Would anyone see her for what she can be without the light of the full moon?
There was one wound Madam Pomfrey could never heal. Chiara looked down at the scar Madam Pomfrey did not touch--the bite delivered by Fenrir Greyback when she was younger. It was sealed by other Healers with powdered silver and dittany, but it could not completely remove the damage. It was this very scar that changed her life forever. It was this scar that turned her from a simple human girl to a monster.
But things could look up here. Like everyone else in the courtyard, she was still a student. She was already contributing to Hogwarts’ legacy in some way--that had to count for something, right?
She closed her book just in time to see a toad hop over to her, a golden Dungbomb strapped onto its back gleaming in the sunlight.
“Oh, hello,” she said tentatively, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
That was when she heard a laugh from above her, and Tulip stooped down to pick up the toad.
“Dennis, what did I tell you about hopping away so much?” Tulip reprimanded the toad lightly, scooping it up with her hand. “Next time, stay where you are, or else I can’t find you and I might panic.” She glanced over at Chiara and smiled broadly. “Thanks for helping me find my toad.”
“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing,” Chiara murmured with a nod.
Tulip eventually departed with Dennis still in hand, and Chiara sighed in relief. She couldn’t risk having another friend. She couldn’t risk getting close to anyone again.
Perhaps she would never smile like she used to again.
---
In the days that followed, Chiara found being at Hogwarts rather enjoyable. Herbology, Potions, and Charms were such fun to learn--all the Professors gave her praise whenever she did well, and encouragement when things got tough. She even decided to help Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, which the matron greatly appreciated as students began to come in with ailments all over. In some way, accepting the letter to come to Hogwarts was probably one of the best things Chiara had ever done. Here she could forget about her own troubles, even for a fleeting moment, and find a purpose here.
However, the reminder of her troubles and the next full moon eventually brought her back to reality when she was once again called to the front of the classroom by Professor Snape after lessons. As the other students filed out once more in groups of two or three, she approached the Potions Master, apprehension settling in over her face.
“Muffliato,” Professor Snape muttered, waving his wand at the door. Then he turned to Chiara. “Wait here, Lobosca.”
He briefly left the room, ducking ino hisoffice, and came back out a few moments later with a goblet in hand. “Your Wolfsbane Potion dose for today, Lobosca.”
The goblet of potion looked very unsuspecting--filled to the top with dark blue liquid and emitting light blue smoke from the surface. She tilted her head at the goblet, then looked at Professor Snape. “It’s...supposed to look like this?”
“Yes, Lobosca. Now drink it.”
It was like tasting a soiled apple pie meleed with garlic and ghost chili peppers; as the concoction slipped down her throat with every sip, she had to resist every urge to gag. She glanced up at the Potion Master from the rim of her goblet, only to see his hardened glare forcing her to drink the rest of it in one gulp.
“Unpleasant, isn’t it?”
Chiara put the goblet down delicately and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s certainly...different,” she managed to say.
“Adding sugar to the potion would also render it ineffective,” Professor Snape warned her. Then he handed her a large bottle filled to the brim with the dark blue brew. “Remember, you must take one gobletful of the potion each day before the full moon. This should be enough to last you the rest of the week.”
“Yes, sir.”
---
The Wolfsbane Potion was not easy to stomach, let alone swallow, yet it was a medicine she dutifully took every morning prior to breakfast. Thankfully, no one asked her about her sudden change in morning routine. The foul taste of the potion did not stick around for very long in her mouth, either; it was easily doused with a sip of fresh ice cold water a few moments later. Still, Chiara had second thoughts about what would happen when the full moon rose. Could a werewolf really still retain human intelligence under its effects? What if the effects that she experienced weren’t what she was promised?
Eventually, the night of the full moon came around once more. Somehow, she felt that everything she had worked up to belonged to another student that should have been sleeping soundly in her cozy bed in the dormitory, safe and sound in the castle. As she ran out into the open air once more, sprinting across the grounds towards the forest, she felt uncertainty creep up her throat, the foul taste of the Wolfsbane Potion coating her tongue in place of the bile that usually came from shortness of breath and lack of stamina.
Running in pure joy was one thing; running out of fear was another thing entirely.
Her feet slowed as she approached the treeline of the Forbidden Forest once more, and she glanced back at the castle, at the twinkling lights from the castle windows. For some reason this time, the view gave her a small glimmer of hope. Somehow, tonight, everything was going to be fine.
Then her blue eyes widened as they soon met the luminescent glow of the full moon; her mind blanked, and she knew no more.
---
It was the sounds of birds chirping in the early morning that woke her from her deep slumber, the warmth of the sunrise seeping through her tensed cramped muscles. Chiara’s eyes slowly fluttered open, only to quickly shut again at the intense red-orange glow of the sun; she pushed herself up on her palms, the miniscule sticks and stones beneath her palms digging into her skin, and quickly surveyed her surroundings.
She seemed to be in a wooded clearing surrounded by bushes, trees with low branches serving a canopy over her head to shelter her from further dangers. Glancing around now at the forest in the day, she felt much more refreshed and energized than she ever had before following her transformations. She dusted her hands clean from the stones and sticks stuck on her palms and checked her face; there were no drying scabs, no scratches from what she could feel.
A small smile blossomed over Chiara’s face as she sat up, her eyes soon adjusted to the sunrise’s light. Somehow, she managed to make it through the night without a single murderous motive crossing her mind--what’s more, she survived without getting hurt herself. The Wolfsbane Potion truly worked after all.
“Borf!”
A chipper bark suddenly jolted Chiara up in her seat; her head whirled around now at the sound. Wherever could it be coming from?
“Borf!”
She tilted her head now at the rustling bushes to her right, a slow exhale escaping her lips. This couldn’t be one of the dangers in the Forbidden Forest now, could it?
“Borf borf!”
And out from the bushes burst a little pup with pointed ears, shining black eyes, and fluffy dark grey fur that bounced with every bound towards the girl. Its mouth turned up into a smile as it stopped by her knees, a playful gleam illuminating its eyes.
“Oh. Hello there,” Chiara murmured softly, holding a tentative hand out. “You’re a really cute little pup, aren’t you?”
“Borf!”
It didn’t seem to be in a hurry to run off. Perhaps it sensed that she was one of its kind and wanted to keep her company. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem to be a danger at all. Smiling faintly now at the memory of the first awkward encounter she had with Dennis, Chiara slowly reached out and lightly pet the pup on the head, which earned her a soft hum.
A docile wolf pup...she faintly recalled one of the Healers treating her wounds making a passing comment about werewolf pups. Werewolf pups were conceived when two werewolves mated whilst transformed under the full moon, and they were not savage beasts at all; in fact, they were known to be very intelligent and beautiful. Now she knew what they meant--indeed, they were very beautiful. And somehow, this one knew she was one of them.
Just knowing that it didn’t judge her at all for what she was made her feel immensely grateful.
Eventually, Chiara made her way back to the edge of the Forest; the sun had just about fully risen, and if she didn’t hurry she would be late for her first lesson of the day. She looked back at the Forest now, an immense wash of relief flooding her entire body--and her eyes fell upon the little wolf pup who had followed her all this way.
“Borf!” the pup called, wagging its tail excitedly once more.
Chiara chuckled as she approached the pup once more, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “Looks like you really like me, huh?”
“Borf!”
“Well, I’ll say,” Chiara smiled. “I have to go back to the school, but I’ll see you later...Borf.”
“Borf borf!” The pup’s eyes gleamed in such an adorable way that made Chiara grin.
A light feeling enveloped Chiara’s mind and soul as she skipped through the grounds and blended in with the students now milling through the halls getting to where they needed to go. Somehow, the prospect of fitting in at Hogwarts without being judged was not as dim as she once thought it to be. In fact, there was no harm in being different--not when somewhere she could be accepted for what she could not control.
She smiled as she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, thankful for Borf and all the joy and hope he brought her.
In some way, he was the light she needed that lifted the shadow of doubt that haunted her past.
Here’s part 1 of a 2-part fic that I wrote that commemorates Clara’s Hogwarts friends/peers lost to battle against the forces of evil.
The concept of time was humankind’s greatest enigma. It cared not about what happens in the life of any one person. Like the river in the wood, it flowed, knowing not of the stones overturned or the sediments caught in its current. Once a mark had been made, there was no erasing it; once a phenomenon had come to pass, there was no reverting it to what once was.
Time was supposed to help the dust settle over the ruins. Thoroughly damaged beyond repair, yet shrouded in the remnants of what once transpired, the image of what history left behind would only be made clearer after time had passed. Time was supposed to help the physical cuts heal. The open lacerations seeping blood through the flesh would have scabbed and closed with patches of new skin depending on how deep the wound was. Even as they happened, though, time would never let anyone forget the phenomenon that had ensued. Time didn’t care how anyone healed, grieved, smiled, or cried.
Time certainly didn’t care how anyone lived or died.
Clara closed her fingers over her wand and stood from her chair, empty eyes that once bore tears lingering on the sunny scenery outside her window. All those years ago, she had prayed for a sunny day to greet her on the day she departed home for Hogwarts, and every year, it had always been either cloudy or rainy--she even remembered the stormy day that commenced her third year all too well. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked at the clock by her writing desk--it was 9:00 am. If she was still a student, she’d be travelling right now in one of the Ministry cars her father borrowed from the Ministry with him to King’s Cross Station, her mind abuzz solely with plans to find Jacob and bring him home. If she was still in China, she’d be drilled through military exercises set by the captain of the Chinese Wizarding Task Force without a single thought of her past. Those days were long gone, though--the past was now behind her. Today was a special day, but not for a good reason. Today, she and what remained of her circle of friends would throw a special celebration in memory of all the friends who had fallen, and all of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort at Hogwarts.
Merlin...the Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago. It had taken so long for the dust to settle over the relics, but she couldn’t move past the horror that she had witnessed. Her chest ached as visions began to swim in her mind--the corpses of her friends lying in the rubble, the crack of every spell relentlessly attacking those who still remained standing. She recalled the number of spells she had to deflect with her steel fans from the Task Force when her protective barriers shattered, the triangle of Death Eaters surrounding her at once threatening her to collapse. If she closed her eyes, she could see every misfired curse shattering the stone walls, tossing bodies back as if they were only rag dolls…
The soothing touch of her fiance’s fingers tracing over her arm eased her breathing, but it did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes again.
“What are you thinking about, Clara?” Barnaby asked her quietly, gently wrapping his strong arms around her from behind and holding her close to him. She could only hum as she leaned back into his chest, exhaling quietly as the tears spilled over her cheeks.
“It’s the Battle, is it?”
Clara nodded. “Well...sort of.” She opened her eyes, turning to face her fiance. “There was something Dumbledore told me so long ago, back when we were still sixth years. He said that if there was one thing anyone could count on, it’s death. It comes for everyone in the end. But you know how quickly it took a lot of our friends--Rowan in our sixth year, Cedric the summer before I left for China…”
“I know,” Barnaby murmured, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. “I know.”
“It’s hard,” Clara whispered. “It’s so hard…”
She buried her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around Barnaby as she tried her hardest not to sob. The terror that first gripped at her when she fought apart from him snaked its way back into her chest, not unlike the cursed ice that spread through the school in her second year. Death took so many people she held dear to her over the years, it was a miracle that she still remained standing. Rowan...Ben...Tonks...Fred...Talbott...heck, she couldn’t even begin to believe that Merula was dead, too. Even Dobby and Cedric, whom she didn’t know very well, felt like kin--and yet they too were brutally murdered long before the ultimate siege.
“What do you think they’ll be doing?” Barnaby wondered, tilting his head slightly. “You know, in the world of the dead.”
Clara winced slightly at the question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled eventually. “Maybe look down upon us like angels would.”
“I know Rowan is. She’s your best friend, after all--what best friend wouldn’t want to shield you from harm?” Barnaby said, slowly rubbing a hand over Clara’s back to calm her down.
“To think that everyone went into this battle not trying to protect me for the vaults this time, but fight against the one all wizardkind feared,” Clara mused. “I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. I just hope that what we invited everyone to do today would be enough to finally find closure and…”
Barnaby nodded as she trailed off, tilting her head up with a hand to look her in the eyes. Her glasses were smudged from the tears now streaming over her face.
“I’m sure they will love it,” Barnaby reassured her softly. “Not just all the ones still alive, but those who passed on. I know I would.”
It’s taken Clara weeks to pull herself together after the battle, and even more after that to seek solace from those who still remain. Only a few days ago did she finally settle the date of their wedding, yet it didn’t feel right to celebrate a day of union without sharing it with all their friends, alive or dead.
Two days to go. After that, our lives might change for the better.
She had to hold it together. Not just for them, but for herself too. Closure would not be given to those still vulnerable to breaking.
“Yeah,” she finally murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I would, too.”
---
There was no bachelor and bachelorette party for this couple--heck, they couldn’t imagine the consequences for the other should a disaster occur while they were apart. Instead, a few weeks ago, Clara had sent her owl, Wagner, out into the world with letters for all their friends and loved ones. Today, everyone who was willing to come would Apparate to their house, and then gather in their vast open backyard in the evening where the ceremony would commence.
“And done,” Barnaby declared as he delicately placed the final cherry on the top of a massive white-iced three-layer cake. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked at his best baking masterpiece--no, it was not their wedding cake, but it looked good enough to be one.
That was when the doorbell rang, and he jumped, almost knocking the cake over.
“I got it!” Clara called, running down the stairs and securing her crimson crystal hair tie around the single braid over her left shoulder. “Just set the parlour up, Barnaby.”
“Will do.” Barnaby nodded and carried the massive cake to the parlour, humming a little tune to himself.
Clara opened the door to reveal Penny and Beatrice now standing at the threshold. Both of them were wearing black dresses that went down to their knees. The plaits that were normally in Penny’s hair were now combed out, her hair now split into two braids down her shoulders. Beatrice’s hair, for the first time since Clara could recall, was held back with a headband, revealing both of her blue eyes cast down with a sad glimmer.
“Clara!” Penny greeted her friend with a hug, which Clara wholeheartedly returned.
“Hey, Penn.”
Time had changed the little girls who became friends in their first year to young adults who had survived more than one war. As they broke the embrace and looked at each other, they both caught the matured gleam now stripped of whatever carefree sparkle once graced their eyes, the tragedies they both withstood in their time at school, the weariness that came with demands that required their individual expertises.
“You hanging in there?” Penny asked Clara quietly. “I know it’s been hard on all of us.”
Clara nodded solemnly. “Trying to. It wasn’t hard when the names in the list of casualties were still unrecognizable, but it’s different now when everyone you knew gave their all to protect the school and the Boy Who Lived. Not to say I regret it--”
“I know what you mean. I’m sure none of them regretted it either,” Penny assured her.
“At least we’re still together,” Clara said with a shrug. “Jacob, little Em and I at least escaped the war unscathed. And you’ve got Beatrice, too.”
Beatrice nodded as she produced another stuffed Puffskein from her pocket--almost similar to the one she gave Clara when they first met--and gave it to her. “Is your sister coming?”
“She should be,” Clara confirmed with a nod. “Do come in, both of you. We have cake and Butterbeer in the parlour, and I think Barnaby should almost be finished with grooming the Puffskeins.”
The second one to arrive, much to Clara’s surprise, was Skye Parkin, her Wigtown Wanderers jersey billowing in the wind as she hopped off her Comet 290 in front of their house.
“Skye!” Clara exclaimed upon her arrival. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, what with training for your upcoming tournaments.”
“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I might as well be there for it,” Skye responded shortly, giving Clara a small smile. “Besides, one of our Chasers recently came down with a serious bout of Scrofungulus. We don’t have any backup players to properly play against the Applewood Arrows today.”
“Oh. That’s a bummer. You wish I was there to step up to the plate?” Clara asked, remembering fondly her short tenure as Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
“It would be nice. But I figured you need time to...you know,” Skye said uneasily, and Clara nodded in understanding.
Shortly after Skye went in to help herself to some of Barnaby’s cake and chat with Penny, Andre, Murphy, and Orion made their appearance on Clara’s doorstep. Andre’s Pride of Portree jersey flapped in the wind behind him, in the same manner as Skye’s jersey. Murphy’s colourful tie worn for all his Quidditch commentating duties was swapped today with a black bowtie. Orion was also wearing all black from head to toe.
“I told the staff that I wasn’t feeling well,” Murphy explained. “And I’m not! There’s a 95.7% chance that after such a travesty it’s hard to think of the light ahead.”
“But what is light without darkness?” Orion asked. “It’s with light that we have darkness.”
“Or should it be the other way around?” Andre queried, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing this, Curse-breaker. In a time like this, I think we all really need it.”
“Thanks, Andre. And I’m happy to see you’re alive and well too, Murphy and Orion,” Clara said, bowing them into her home where they went to the parlour to meet Penny, Beatrice, Skye and Barnaby.
Soon, Chiara, Jae, Diego, and little Em all arrived together, the girls holding onto extravagant bouquets of colourful flowers. Jae was holding tightly onto Chiara’s free hand, balancing a large box of delicacies in his other hand. Diego’s fingers were interlaced with little Em’s, his scarf from his old school days wrapped around little Em’s shoulders to keep her warm.
“Darn it. I miss my hoodie already,” Jae muttered, his teeth chattering slightly.
“Relax, Jae. It’ll only be for today,” Chiara consoled him with a small smile before turning towards Clara. “How are you doing, Clara?”
“Faring as well as I can,” Clara simply said, smiling wanly at the group. “Thanks for coming, guys--really, it means a lot.”
“Anything to get to spend time with you, Clara,” little Em reassured her older sister with a hug. “I would not miss my sister’s wedding for anything in the world.”
Diego nodded in agreement as little Em returned to his side shortly after. “Indeed. How swiftly childhood leaves us as we emerge as veterans from a war well fought and won.”
“I just hope that this celebration would mark the first chapter of genuine happiness for all of us,” Chiara finally piped up. “With all that’s happened, I figured we all need it.”
A little while into the afternoon, Tulip, Liz, and Badeea arrived together, Badeea’s hands still smeared with paint as she brought in a giant portrait of their fallen friends. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, and Angelina followed swiftly, George still trying to hold back tears as he held fast to Angelina’s hand; Clara couldn’t blame him. George didn’t just lose a brother in the battle, after all; he lost his twin, his second half who understood him better than anyone.
How quickly everyone’s grown, Clara realized, as she closed the door behind the Weasleys and followed them into the parlour. Glancing around at her friends grabbing drinks and some of Jae’s homemade delicacies or the cake Barnaby made, talking in low voices among themselves like old friends, she could see the hint of sadness in their eyes along with the gleam of maturity that long replaced the carefree, happy spirit they once felt. They fought more than just one battle, leaving them all with more scars than they’d hoped for--yet through their grief, they remained standing strong. They had weathered through so many storms together that they became the storm themselves.
“Is that everyone?” Chiara asked quietly as she sipped from her bottle of Butterbeer, watching the large crowd mill around the parlour and the kitchen. “Or are we still waiting for a few people?”
Clara frowned as she glanced at the clock--it was now five in the afternoon, and there were still a few last stragglers she had yet to see. “I think we have Ismelda and Jacob to wait for,” she eventually answered. “Jacob I know is with my parents, but Ismelda...I haven’t heard from her since the end of the war.”
“Ismelda’s still alive?” Penny asked, raising a brow and glancing at Beatrice.
“What are you looking at me for?” Beatrice inquired, grabbing another piece of cake from the dainty multi-tiered platter on the table. “I haven’t kept tabs on Ismelda either since I graduated from school.”
CRACK!
A sudden Apparition within the house made everyone jump, Beatrice almost dropping her cake in the shock--when the smoke cleared, Clara saw Ismelda and Erika standing in the middle of the parlour, travelling cloaks fastened tight around them. Ismelda quickly drew her arm away from Erika, massaging her upper arm to rid it of the soreness in the potential death grip.
“Did you have to grip onto me that hard?” Ismelda grumbled, shooting Erika a death glare. “And I thought I already told you I didn’t want to go!”
“I had to do what I could to make sure you got here in one piece,” Erika shrugged. “And if you say another word about this gathering being nothing but a waste of time--”
“Fine, fine.” Ismelda shook her head, a groan escaping her mouth. “Anything to save you from using me as your practice dummy.”
“That’s more like it.” Erika gave her a little smirk, her eyes darting about the rest of the group. “So this is what a party for the dead looks like.”
“Not much of a party so much as it is just a time to come together,” Murphy corrected her. “And it’s a good thing Clara’s hosting this for us. I figured we all needed it.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this show on the road,” Ismelda finally said. “Is there anything we can do besides just…” She gestured around the room. “Eat cake and drink Butterbeer and mope?”
“Well…” Clara glanced around at the group--it felt a lot like the Circle of Khanna all over again, except this time there was no one else to stand by her for support. The days when Ben and Merula flanked by her were long gone now, both of them now buried in their graves a few feet below. “We prepared a bonfire pit in the backyard, and enough sky lanterns for all of us.”
“Sky lanterns?” Tulip asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen one of those in so long. They’re part of the ceremony, right?”
“Of course,” Clara nodded. “They’re an integral part, so to say.”
“Nothing’s ever been the same since, well…” Skye glanced awkwardly at the group around her. “I mean, I’m not one to go all mushy but...I can’t imagine all of us losing people we care about so much. And all of you are great people in some way--”
She was suddenly cut off by Penny embracing her in a hug, which Skye returned hesitantly, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder.
“The people who love us never really leave us,” Barnaby piped up then. “I remembered how bad I felt when Rowan died...and then I thought I would lose Clara too when she left for China. But time taught me that they’ll always be here with us no matter where they are. Bright souls will shine like bright stars in the sky, now and forever. I found a lot of comfort in looking at the stars every night.”
These words brought a scarlet dust to Clara’s cheeks, and she smiled at him ruefully as she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Whether that was a vow intended for their wedding or not, she would never know, but it was enough for her to make her melt on the spot.
“You’re right,” Bill nodded thoughtfully at Barnaby’s words, taking Fleur’s hand and squeezing it tight. “The stars provide comfort for those who need it most. It’s really in the darkness where we can find the light.”
At this, Andre gave Orion a pointed look, and Orion just shrugged it off, nodding at Bill.
“I suppose there’s really no use in waiting any longer,” Clara eventually said--the sun was just beginning to set, and the group was getting much too large to accommodate indoors. “Let’s all head outside to the backyard. Barnaby, can you lead them? I have...something to collect from upstairs.”
Barnaby nodded at his fiancee, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Of course, my unicorn.” He then motioned to the rest of the group to follow him. “Come on outside, everyone.”
As everyone filed out, Clara headed towards the stairs and began to ascend two steps a time--the moment she reached the landing she wasted no time in heading to her bedroom and opening the door to her closet. Peering into the mass of fabrics, her eyes landed at the bottom of the cabinet, where a single dagger laid in its black sheath lined with golden dragons, laced through the leather belt she had to wear in her days at the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.
To most, it seemed like a simple ornate dagger, most likely an article of decorum worn by royals in important ceremonies. With a polished ruby pommel at the end of a leather grip hilt, and a few engravings on the blade, it looked insignificant, almost ordinary. But to those who served in the task force it meant so much more--it was a weapon she had used in the fight against the Japanese dark wizards on more than one occasion. Where magic failed, the dagger had helped her lay many a blow on those too fast to hit with a spell, those who resisted the effects of magic in ways she would never know. She fought along those who had also given their life for the cause, fought with the same blade she held now--never a day went by when she didn’t think of them. Some survived, some died, and all for a united cause.
She honoured so many of the unknown dead with this knife strapped to her side. It only seemed fitting that she did it now, too.
“Clara? You coming?”
Clara turned around just as she looped the belt around her waist--standing at the doorway to her room was her little sister, head tilted in intrigue and eyes shining in concern.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Clara adjusted the belt over her clothes and walked over to little Em. “I was just...getting this dagger. Custom to wear it for funerals when I was working with the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.”
“Ah.” Little Em nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”
“No need to apologize.”
It had been much too long since Clara last saw her little sister, her little Em--four months since the end of the Battle where they fought together but not at each other’s side, never getting to see each other after the dust had settled over the ruins and the wounds had all but healed in their natural time. What once were two young children who bonded in a sole promise to protect each other within the walls of Hogwarts were now two women who had no idea how to shield each other from the other side of the world. It was only a miracle that they hadn’t lost the other to the perils of the world turned upside down by none other than Voldemort himself. Moments like these between two sisters bound by blood were far and few in between since then.
“I’ve missed you so much, Clara,” little Em finally admitted. “I was worried about Jacob in the fight but when I heard you were there at Hogwarts too…”
“I thought I’d never see you again, either. I wasn’t sure if I was able to make it out of the war alive,” Clara mumbled. “How, though?”
“Stuck close with Diego. It helps to have a strong dueller at your side,” little Em said. “And you?”
“I was with Tonks at first, but when she was defeated I had to hold my own,” Clara replied. “It wasn’t easy to feel that drive to fight after seeing a casualty right in front of your eyes, but I’ve had enough practice.”
“You shouldn’t have to keep suffering, Clara. I know why you joined the task force in China, but...promise me that at the end of all of this you’ll find some peace and happiness,” little Em pleaded. “All your life you’ve been fighting, and I understand it was for a cause. Just...I don’t want you to break under all the pressure. You have so many people who worry about you, and it would break my heart to find that you’ll never find happiness again at the end of the day.”
“Em.” Clara turned to face her sister now, a small smile on her face. “All I want is to make you happy, to fight for your happiness and safety every day. Knowing that you’re here and you’re happy and safe is enough for me to feel happy and safe.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Little Em smiled, a brief second of relief, before taking her sister’s hand and leading her out of her room. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”
