Leaving - End
What was it like in the immediate aftermath of that final battle? Was everyone relieved, shocked, or did it take some time for everything to sink in as real? How did you feel?
I suspect everyone reacted a little differently to the events of that day. There were many things to take in; there were many things to reconcile. I doubt that anyone could have told you exactly what they were feeling. It was a great jumble of emotions that are difficult to parcel out into their individual origins.
[more]
The great hall had always seemed large during Sadie's school days. It seemed even larger, somehow, when it was filled with the injured and the dead. She had known. She had thought she had known. If she had learned nothing else from this experience, she had come to understand that knowing was vastly different from seeing. The rows felt endless. They stretched onward in a surreal tribute to the damage that could be created as a consequence of one person's insatiable desire for power being set loose upon the world.
Dean Thomas had had a valid point. Sadie was forced to concede as she surveyed the carnage and loss in front of her. It was difficult to trust a world where such things could happen. The muggle world, however, was no different. The methods were changed, but the results stayed the same. Evil found a foothold and continued to grow and spread until it was checked. How much damage was done was always directly proportional to how long it was ignored. People were too busy, too disbelieving, too wrapped in their own little section of the universe to pay attention until something small that could easily be snuffed out had become something huge and menacing and out of control. Why don't we choose to fight the small battles while they are small? Why do we persist in clinging to the fallacy that those things ignored cannot touch us when we have always see it proven wrong?
Of course, sometimes such things were stopped before they started. But, did they really matter? It was the ones that were not that left their blot on history. Sadie shook off her philosophical rambling and forced herself to focus on the memory. Luna was standing by herself watching a knot of red heads gathered around one of the bodies. One of the young men (Sadie was too caught up in the emotions of the scene to fill in the names even though she should know them by now) pushed off his sister's restraining hand and stalked partially across the room. His eyes were glazed over and disbelieving - that was, they were, until they suddenly focused on one of the bodies that had no attendant mourners.
She looked to be about his age and had the calm, untouched look of those struck by the Avada Kadavra curse. There was something unnatural about such a violent, hate filled curse leaving no signs of violence in its wake. Then again, there was something unnatural about people creating a method of killing with words. George (his name finally clicked into place inside Sadie's head) stared at the girl for a few long moments as if what he was seeing refused to register in his brain, but he couldn't look away until it did. He sank to his knees in front of her and buried his face in his hands. Silent sobs shook his shoulders as the memory faded away.
The bodies had been moved. The hall was still filled with people, but these people were vibrant and alive and loud. It was as though the room had undergone some sort of bipolar mood shift. Luna was sitting next to Harry. Sadie watched as she orchestrated his escape. Despite her confusion over the change in mood, Sadie was forced to smile at Luna's choice of distractions. Some things in this world were, apparently, constant. Luna sat at the table watching Ron and Hermione follow the invisible Harry out of the room. She turned her head and spent a few minutes looking at Ginny sitting beside her mother before turning again to locate Neville sitting amidst a group of clamoring girls who kept reaching out to touch the sword in front of him in awe. It was crowded enough that Luna was still hemmed in by people at the table, but Sadie couldn't shake the feeling that she was very, very much alone.
Luna was standing on the school grounds all alone in the afternoon sunshine. Craters were scattered throughout the yard, but Luna was looking at the castle itself. Piles of stones marked the places where parts of walls had ended their journeys after being blasted or knocked down. It was the home away from home that Sadie had known, but in an injured from. It still managed to look majestic. It was battered but still standing. From Sadie's side of history, she could call up the image of the repaired and rebuilt building. The currently visible flaws were familiar to Sadie because of the slightly discolored masonry that marked the same places in her own memories. She had always wondered why, with all the magic at the disposal of the staff, they had never caused it to match. It had never been glaringly obvious, but it you looked the difference had always been visible.
Now, Sadie thought that maybe she understood. The question wasn't why had they not. It was why should they? The stone wasn't the same. It had been repaired. It had needed to be repaired. Why pretend otherwise? Events left marks that couldn't or shouldn't be covered over. Done is done; it can't be erased. You could try to make everything look the same, but it still would not actually be the same. Why deny instead of remember? Whoever had made that decision when the building was repaired, Sadie felt that they had been very wise. Looking at the blond soaking in the sight and the sunshine as the memory faded out, Sadie wondered if the people involved found it as easy to admit and accept the pieces of themselves that had been irrevocably changed as well.
9 February 2038
Sadie,
What were you thinking? It's bad enough that your friends are once again not worth your time, but you didn't even send a note to say you weren't coming. How do you think Drake felt spending the entire evening explaining to his parents why his "best" friend not only couldn't be bothered, but also couldn't even extend the common courtesy of a decline response? I'm so angry at you I could spit. Get your act together before you wake up and find the rest of us have decided that we value your friendship just as much has you value ours.
Adrienne
Okay, so she'd obviously screwed up. That letter from Drake's parents must have been a dinner invitation. She couldn't have gone; she was much too busy. She felt bad that she hadn't sent a reply of course. That had been very rude and probably awkward for Mr. and Mrs. Boot. But Adrienne, Adrienne was way over reacting. What was wrong with her? She didn't have time for this. She would send the Boots an apology as soon as she had some time.
What was it like going back to school after everything was over?
School went back very much to what school had been before. We were the ones who were different. There were places inside the school that seemed different because we had different memories of them. There were things that were different because we no longer saw them in the same way.
She was back in the Great Hall again. She (Luna) had paused beside Ginny in the doorway. Ginny was looking around as if she had never seen the room before. Sadie struggled to find what it was that was capturing her attention so. It appeared to be a normal evening meal. It wasn't a feast or a festive occasion. There was nothing that should have led to Ginny's fascinated stare. Then, she saw it. The hall looked empty. Less than half the seats were occupied. The students were chatty and laughing and normal. The little first years would never know that there was something wrong with the picture. Those who had seen it under different circumstances - Luna, Ginny, Sadie - would feel vaguely, undefinably uncomfortable without the crowd and higher level of noise that they would always associate with the place.
"I hadn't noticed," Ginny said looking at Luna who merely nodded in acknowledgment. "I've been avoiding looking around. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to remember. I haven't noticed how quiet it is, how many spaces there are . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "Is she still in the library?"
Luna nodded again. "She won't come down."
"She doesn't want to see what I just saw, does she?"
"I think there's something more."
"She doesn't want to remember?"
"I think she remembers too much."
The three girls (Luna, Ginny, and Hermione) were sitting in various postures on the floor of an obviously unused classroom. A stack of textbooks towered in the center of their circle. The girls made the occasional comment, but mostly they worked on their individual assignments in silence. Sadie had spent similar nights in her common room with Adrienne and Drake. She, though, had had the advantage of comfortable furniture. The quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the classroom door. It was funny how you could always identify teachers from fellow students by the sound of the footsteps.
"Professor McGonagall," the girls chorused as the door swung on hinges sadly in need of oil.
"Ladies this is the third time this week that you have been present in unauthorized areas."
Luna and Ginny shrugged. Hermione chose to respond. "It won't be the last."
"I understand that the three of you . . ."
"You don't understand." Hermione interjected.
"I beg your pardon?"
"May Luna join us in our common room?" She asked.
"You know that is not permitted."
"May we join Luna in her common room?" She continued with a long suffering, patient tone.
"Miss Granger . . . "
"Then, we will continue to choose this course of action." The two women simply looked at each other for a long moment. The older woman sighed.
"I will see what I can do."
The only talking in the third memory was done by a hat - the sorting hat. It was singing.
Unless the fences really mend
They will simply fall again
Let us learn lest we see
What will be is what has been
Across the aisles to fix the wounds
Knowing we are more the same
Than any difference I may find
When the teacher calls your name
I hope this time you understand
When I end my warning song
What it is you should do
And where it is that we go wrong
9 February 2038
Sadie,
My apologies, darling. I should have checked back with you sooner. Those troublesome owls are really getting out of hand because I know you would never ignore my correspondence. We will get together to go over your source material tomorrow afternoon. Let me know what time. I know you would never get prima donnaish on me, so I know you will be timely in your response.
Constance
There were so many emotions and changes to be dealt with in the aftermath of Voldemort's time in power. Your group of friends seems to have dusted themselves off and gone on to lives of (relative) normalcy. Did you notice anyone struggling to make the adjustment? What do you think was the contributing factor in how well you all adjusted?
Sadie felt herself flush looking at the question she had written before seeing the Dean Thomas memories. It was so easy to look at the survivors with their families and jobs and notations in the margins of history and think that that was all that mattered. It was so easy to ignore the damage that wasn't visible. Would anyone who hadn't truly known those individuals both before and after ever be able to understand exactly what that fight against evil had cost them? Maybe not.
Sadie did understand one thing that had been fuzzy in her world view before this whole project started. She knew the why. She knew the answer to why them. She knew the answer to why then. Her cynicism and doubt had been washed against the rocks of Luna's blunt honesty and shattered in the process. It was funny how she really didn't count it as a loss. It was funny how instead of learning all about Luna she seemed to be learning all about herself. Although she knew that the answer to her question must be that they had struggled (and that the methods of their coping weren't really her business), she had asked and been answered. She might as well let the parchment play.
Everyone copes with change (catastrophic or gradual) in a slightly (or not so slightly) different way. Some people keep all their struggles internal, some advertise it for the world at large, and some try to continue their lives denying that any change has taken place. We were no different. I am sure that were you to survey the bulk of those involved, you would receive as many variations on the theme of "how did you cope" as people of whom you inquired.
It isn't necessarily how you cope that leads to the ability to frame your life within the new normal and sojourn forward. It is the fact that you actually do the coping that opens up that road. If you are blessed (and we were very much so), you have friends that help you along your way. Sometimes it is by giving you the space you need to make your adjustments, and sometimes it is pushing you to recognize that adjustments need to be made. The trick of a good friend is to know someone well enough to know the difference.
The Hogwarts' Express had featured so prominently in so many of Luna's memories that Sadie was not surprised to find herself back on it. It was still quieter than Sadie would have defined as normal, but the quiet was filled with hopeful expectation this time instead of dread. Luna and Ginny were alone in the compartment.
"She's missed the train," Ginny was saying with a mixture of concern and annoyance.
"She might have boarded after us."
"Where is she then?" Ginny sighed and took a deep breath after almost yelling. "You don't know what it has been like. She hasn't answered any letters for over a month. She might not even be in England. Ron's going frantic. You saw him at the station. I thought I was done spending all my time fretting over people." Her head met her hands and the last bit came out muffled. "I'm turning into Mum."
Whatever comforting (or not so comforting) response Luna was going to make was interrupted by the appearance of Hermione in the doorway. She looked run down, tired, and her shoulders held so much tension they resembled a drawn back bowstring.
"Hullo." Luna greeted sounding more cautious than Sadie had ever heard her.
"You've made it!" Ginny exclaimed launching herself at the girl who looked as if her friend's embrace pained her. She pulled back a bit and regained some of her composure. "Are your parents all settled back at home?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "They're still in Australia."
"I'm so sorry," Ginny informed her edging in for another embrace. Hermione held her off with a raised hand.
"I still think the reversal will work. I just didn't try."
"I don't understand." Hermione's face and manner turned aloof as she replied.
"They are perfectly happy where they are. Why bother to burden them with worry over a daughter who is just going to leave them again?"
Luna and Ginny were crouched against a wall in some part of the castle unknown to Sadie. Ginny was once again doing the talking.
"It's as though something sucked all the life right out of her and left behind this empty shell caricature. She goes to class, she studies, she sits in the library, she does perfect work, and she knows the answer to every question a teacher asks her. She also doesn't sleep, stares off into space whenever she thinks no one is noticing, has red, blotchy eyes whenever she comes back from being alone, avoids talking whenever possible, hasn't answered any of Ron's or Harry's letters, and she just isn't her. I can't take it any more. We're losing her, and I don't know why."
"It's going to be okay."
"How do you know that?"
"Because we won't let it not be."
All three of the girls stood in a semi-dark classroom in the third memory. Whatever Ginny and Luna had to say had obviously already been said because no one except Hermione had the floor.
"So, you thought what precisely? That you were going to stage some sort of intervention? I don't need an intervention. I'm finally thinking clearly. More clearly than I have in ages. Maybe more clearly than I have in my entire life. I am perfectly aware of my place in the universe and how lousy I am at filling it. I am just fine!"
"Hermione . . . we just want to help." Ginny began.
"Help?" Hermione scoffed. "Why bother? After what I've done to you? After what I've done to all of them? I'm not worth it." Her voice became louder and simultaneously more difficult to understand as the now nearing hysterical girl continued. She was sobbing and breathless but continued to try to talk. The result was the uttering of a whole lot of broken, difficult to understand pieces of thoughts all jumbled into one long, flowing indistinguishable mass.
"Parents . . . without . . . happier now . . . would have been happier all along . . . abnormal child . . . so much stress . . . not understanding . . . put them through . . . left them . . . put first . . . cancelled . . . never complained . . . made targets . . . didn't tell, actually lied . . . boggart right . . . always fail everything . . . nobody wanted . . . bossy . . . boring . . . only good for helping . . . not really like . . . wouldn't want for a friend . . . couldn't even do that right . . . always let them down . . . Harry . . . tried to tell . . . wouldn't listen . . . I didn't make him listen . . . could have saved . . . only tried harder . . . shouldn't have let him go . . . wasn't good enough to listen to . . . Sirius . . . dead because I failed . . . Harry's chance for a family . . . I killed it . . . let them get me . . . didn't protect them . . . let them down . . . could have been killed . . . useless . . . Ron didn't want . . . was stupid . . . Lavender . . . better than me . . . only makes sense . . . who would want . . . too nice to me . . . I was too dense . . . petty . . . should have been there to help . . . poison . . . could have lost him . . . should have figured it out faster . . . took so long . . . he left because I was too slow . . . what was the point of taking me . . . broke his wand . . . messed up . . . all me . . . didn't think fast enough . . . shield charm . . . something . . . blocked the rubble . . . stopped it . . . too slow . . . didn't think . . . supposed to be the smart one . . . supposed to think fast . . . killed his brother . . . never look at me again . . . keeps writing me . . . can't read it . . . doesn't he think I know . . . can't leave me alone . . . sorry I let his brother die . . . so sorry . . . what does he want . . . tell me he hates me in person . . . can't take that . . . please, anything but that . . ."
The ranting tapered off into a desperate gasping, sobbing noise that could no longer be formed into words as Hermione sank into a quivering ball on the floor. Nothing she had said really made any sense to Sadie, but it seemed to mean something to Luna and Ginny. The two exchanged a heartbroken look of mixed angst and knowledge before converging on the broken girl. The memory ended in a haze of group hugging, sobbing, and murmured comforting noises.
Well, that was . . . intense. Any further introspection on Sadie's part was cut off by the owl at her window. The thickness of the envelope made her think that Adrienne had struck gold somewhere in her research, but she was disappointed at what actually tumbled out onto her lap. It was a stack of pictures each of which was a wizarding shot of Sadie and Drake. There were so many of them (granted seven years of boarding school was a long time and Adrienne was the shutter bug of the group so it wasn't that uncommon for her to be behind the camera instead of in front of it but still . . .), when had they all been taken? Never mind. What was Adrienne playing at? There was no note. There was no explanation. There was just a stack of pictures. She didn't have time for this. She really didn't have time for this because another owl was tapping persistently at her window.
10 February 2038
Sadie,
I thought your deadline was the 14th? Why is Constance running round demanding your head on a platter for failure to make adequate progress? I think we all had better get together and sort things out before this gets out of hand.
Nat
Was it difficult for you to leave England to pursue your career? You seem to have been very close to your friends during the war. Was it difficult to give up that safety net of support?
It is, of course, difficult to leave ones friends and family to start a new chapter in your life. It is also, sometimes, very worth it. I happened to have an extended family of friends who believed in me and wanted what was best for me. I didn't really leave my safety net behind me.
"I want you to be happy. I just wish you didn't have to go away to do it." Ginny was sighing over a cup of tea across the table from Luna at an outdoor café. "If this is about Dean, I'm sure he will be back from whatever soul searching thing he is doing soon."
"He isn't coming back."
"What?"
"I said he isn't coming back."
Ginny suddenly sounded angry. "Are you telling me that he left you!"
"We've already talked about this."
"But I thought . . . I didn't realize . . . Oh, Luna."
"It's fine, Ginny. I'm fine." She took in her friend's skeptical, don't lie to me expression and amended. "I will be fine."
"Please tell me this isn't why you are leaving."
"It isn't, not really."
"Make me understand."
"The rest of you make plans, and they come to be. They may meander on the path a bit, but they happen. When I try to make plans, they never work out. They always fall through. I tried making new plans, but they crumbled on me as well. I think that I am done with planning. I think I am ready to go back to just letting the journey happen. Do you understand that?"
"I do." Ginny paused for a moment. "Are you letting the journey happen, or are you running from the path because you're tired of the meandering?"
Luna sipped her tea instead of answering. Ginny looked pensive.
"What you said about meandering paths? Before our plans work out? He's finally ditched the fan girls."
It was the closest Sadie had ever seen Luna to glaring. "A few minutes ago you were worried over Dean."
"Luna . . ."
"I don't chase after people who don't want me."
Luna was straightening up the contents of shelves in the back of a shop. A much older man was talking to her.
"I'm happy that I've had you for as long as I have. Of course, I wouldn't say no to keeping you longer."
Luna turned and smiled at the man. "I am going to miss you."
"I imagine you will miss many things."
Luna shrugged. "If I didn't go, I would miss those things that I'm going to do now."
"That is the trouble with the road not taken, my dear."
"That there always is one no matter which one you take?"
"Indeed."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gathered around Luna at what appeared to be the Ministry's Portkey Departure Office. The conversation was everything you would expect from a group of close-knit friends saying a good-bye to one of their own. Sadie couldn't focus on it. She was too busy watching the figure she had spotted hanging back in a shadowed doorway. Neville's facial expressions were hard to read. Sadie was fairly certain that she saw longing mixed with doubt. There were a few brief flashes of determination when he started to step forward, but it always faded into resignation as he slunk back. He finally left all together, and the only name Sadie could put to the expression on his face was loss.
Sadie knelt beside the fire place and quickly kindled a small blaze. She fumbled around on her desk until she came upon the still sealed parchment that contained her questions about Neville. She placed it in the grate and watched as the flame caught. She wasn't sure she could even explain why she had done it. She just had the sudden utter conviction that whatever had or had not happened between Luna and Neville, it was nobody's business but their own. She didn't want to see it. Despite everything she knew, there was still something about the thought of Neville and Luna that left a feeling of the final pieces of a puzzle sliding into place in her heart.
It made no sense, but it was what it was. She had no desire to watch the demise of something that was past mending, and she wasn't going to let anyone else gawk at it either. The room was feeling stuffy despite it being midwinter, so Sadie pried open her window. She managed to have impeccable timing as Adrienne's owl came swooping through the gap.
10 February 2038
Sadie,
I don't know what you are thinking, and I don't care that Drake told me to leave you alone. If you aren't present and accounted for by the time he leaves the MOMPO at 8, you are not the friend I thought we had.
Adrienne
Portkey Office? What would Drake be doing at the Portkey Office? With a sudden sinking feeling, she dove back into the pile on her desk until she found the note from the Boots. She tore it open and ran her eyes down the page. It was an invitation, but it wasn't for dinner. It was for a party. Her eyes focused on select phrases as she tried to force her swirling brain to form coherent thoughts. "Good-bye Party" stood out along with "3 years" and "continent travels."
He was going away for three years, and no one had told her. That wasn't a fair thought. They had tried, but she had been too wrapped up in her self to pay any attention. The flood of memories rushed in on her with such speed she thought she might choke on them. They all had one thing in common. They all featured her and Drake - late night study sessions when Adrienne had given up and gone to bed, sitting next to each other cheering at Quidditch matches, dancing together after graduation - and something she had never realized before was suddenly as clear as the reason Adrienne had sent her the stack of pictures. It took all of 20 seconds of basking in the glow of her new knowledge for the doubt to creep to the forefront. He was leaving. It was a wonderful work opportunity. She shouldn't interfere. It wasn't the right time. He might not even feel the same. She might not even feel the same. What if she was just emotionally overwrought and didn't want her friend to leave? What if she was just being selfish? Her mental back and forth was halted when her eyes found the clock - 7:37.
The next item to register in her vision was smoke. It was coming from the howler that the office owl had just dropped in her lap. Her boss's voice had never sounded so grim.
MISS CREEVEY! YOUR BLATANT DISREGARD OF YOUR EDITOR IS NOT ONLY UNPROFESSIONAL BUT COMPLETELY INEXCUSABLE. YOU WILL BE IN MY OFFICE WITH ALL YOUR COLLECTED SOURCE MATERIAL, DRAFTS, AND REVISIONS BY 8 P.M. FOR A MEETING WITH MS. SMITH AND MYSELF. YOU WILL FOLLOW DIRECTION AND FINISH THIS PROJECT TO OUR SPECIFICATIONS OR YOU WILL NOT ONLY FIND YOURSELF OUT OF A POSITION; YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF NO LONGER EMPLOYABLE IN THE ENTIRE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY.
Sadie had no idea what Constance had said to provoke such ire, and she didn't have time to figure it out. The clock changed to 7:40. She had to make a decision, and she had to do it on impulse.
The door slammed closed behind her leaving a flurry of papers slowly settling to the floor and a pile of ash swirling in the grate.
I suspect everyone reacted a little differently to the events of that day. There were many things to take in; there were many things to reconcile. I doubt that anyone could have told you exactly what they were feeling. It was a great jumble of emotions that are difficult to parcel out into their individual origins.
[more]
The great hall had always seemed large during Sadie's school days. It seemed even larger, somehow, when it was filled with the injured and the dead. She had known. She had thought she had known. If she had learned nothing else from this experience, she had come to understand that knowing was vastly different from seeing. The rows felt endless. They stretched onward in a surreal tribute to the damage that could be created as a consequence of one person's insatiable desire for power being set loose upon the world.
Dean Thomas had had a valid point. Sadie was forced to concede as she surveyed the carnage and loss in front of her. It was difficult to trust a world where such things could happen. The muggle world, however, was no different. The methods were changed, but the results stayed the same. Evil found a foothold and continued to grow and spread until it was checked. How much damage was done was always directly proportional to how long it was ignored. People were too busy, too disbelieving, too wrapped in their own little section of the universe to pay attention until something small that could easily be snuffed out had become something huge and menacing and out of control. Why don't we choose to fight the small battles while they are small? Why do we persist in clinging to the fallacy that those things ignored cannot touch us when we have always see it proven wrong?
Of course, sometimes such things were stopped before they started. But, did they really matter? It was the ones that were not that left their blot on history. Sadie shook off her philosophical rambling and forced herself to focus on the memory. Luna was standing by herself watching a knot of red heads gathered around one of the bodies. One of the young men (Sadie was too caught up in the emotions of the scene to fill in the names even though she should know them by now) pushed off his sister's restraining hand and stalked partially across the room. His eyes were glazed over and disbelieving - that was, they were, until they suddenly focused on one of the bodies that had no attendant mourners.
She looked to be about his age and had the calm, untouched look of those struck by the Avada Kadavra curse. There was something unnatural about such a violent, hate filled curse leaving no signs of violence in its wake. Then again, there was something unnatural about people creating a method of killing with words. George (his name finally clicked into place inside Sadie's head) stared at the girl for a few long moments as if what he was seeing refused to register in his brain, but he couldn't look away until it did. He sank to his knees in front of her and buried his face in his hands. Silent sobs shook his shoulders as the memory faded away.
The bodies had been moved. The hall was still filled with people, but these people were vibrant and alive and loud. It was as though the room had undergone some sort of bipolar mood shift. Luna was sitting next to Harry. Sadie watched as she orchestrated his escape. Despite her confusion over the change in mood, Sadie was forced to smile at Luna's choice of distractions. Some things in this world were, apparently, constant. Luna sat at the table watching Ron and Hermione follow the invisible Harry out of the room. She turned her head and spent a few minutes looking at Ginny sitting beside her mother before turning again to locate Neville sitting amidst a group of clamoring girls who kept reaching out to touch the sword in front of him in awe. It was crowded enough that Luna was still hemmed in by people at the table, but Sadie couldn't shake the feeling that she was very, very much alone.
Luna was standing on the school grounds all alone in the afternoon sunshine. Craters were scattered throughout the yard, but Luna was looking at the castle itself. Piles of stones marked the places where parts of walls had ended their journeys after being blasted or knocked down. It was the home away from home that Sadie had known, but in an injured from. It still managed to look majestic. It was battered but still standing. From Sadie's side of history, she could call up the image of the repaired and rebuilt building. The currently visible flaws were familiar to Sadie because of the slightly discolored masonry that marked the same places in her own memories. She had always wondered why, with all the magic at the disposal of the staff, they had never caused it to match. It had never been glaringly obvious, but it you looked the difference had always been visible.
Now, Sadie thought that maybe she understood. The question wasn't why had they not. It was why should they? The stone wasn't the same. It had been repaired. It had needed to be repaired. Why pretend otherwise? Events left marks that couldn't or shouldn't be covered over. Done is done; it can't be erased. You could try to make everything look the same, but it still would not actually be the same. Why deny instead of remember? Whoever had made that decision when the building was repaired, Sadie felt that they had been very wise. Looking at the blond soaking in the sight and the sunshine as the memory faded out, Sadie wondered if the people involved found it as easy to admit and accept the pieces of themselves that had been irrevocably changed as well.
9 February 2038
Sadie,
What were you thinking? It's bad enough that your friends are once again not worth your time, but you didn't even send a note to say you weren't coming. How do you think Drake felt spending the entire evening explaining to his parents why his "best" friend not only couldn't be bothered, but also couldn't even extend the common courtesy of a decline response? I'm so angry at you I could spit. Get your act together before you wake up and find the rest of us have decided that we value your friendship just as much has you value ours.
Adrienne
Okay, so she'd obviously screwed up. That letter from Drake's parents must have been a dinner invitation. She couldn't have gone; she was much too busy. She felt bad that she hadn't sent a reply of course. That had been very rude and probably awkward for Mr. and Mrs. Boot. But Adrienne, Adrienne was way over reacting. What was wrong with her? She didn't have time for this. She would send the Boots an apology as soon as she had some time.
What was it like going back to school after everything was over?
School went back very much to what school had been before. We were the ones who were different. There were places inside the school that seemed different because we had different memories of them. There were things that were different because we no longer saw them in the same way.
She was back in the Great Hall again. She (Luna) had paused beside Ginny in the doorway. Ginny was looking around as if she had never seen the room before. Sadie struggled to find what it was that was capturing her attention so. It appeared to be a normal evening meal. It wasn't a feast or a festive occasion. There was nothing that should have led to Ginny's fascinated stare. Then, she saw it. The hall looked empty. Less than half the seats were occupied. The students were chatty and laughing and normal. The little first years would never know that there was something wrong with the picture. Those who had seen it under different circumstances - Luna, Ginny, Sadie - would feel vaguely, undefinably uncomfortable without the crowd and higher level of noise that they would always associate with the place.
"I hadn't noticed," Ginny said looking at Luna who merely nodded in acknowledgment. "I've been avoiding looking around. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to remember. I haven't noticed how quiet it is, how many spaces there are . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "Is she still in the library?"
Luna nodded again. "She won't come down."
"She doesn't want to see what I just saw, does she?"
"I think there's something more."
"She doesn't want to remember?"
"I think she remembers too much."
The three girls (Luna, Ginny, and Hermione) were sitting in various postures on the floor of an obviously unused classroom. A stack of textbooks towered in the center of their circle. The girls made the occasional comment, but mostly they worked on their individual assignments in silence. Sadie had spent similar nights in her common room with Adrienne and Drake. She, though, had had the advantage of comfortable furniture. The quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the classroom door. It was funny how you could always identify teachers from fellow students by the sound of the footsteps.
"Professor McGonagall," the girls chorused as the door swung on hinges sadly in need of oil.
"Ladies this is the third time this week that you have been present in unauthorized areas."
Luna and Ginny shrugged. Hermione chose to respond. "It won't be the last."
"I understand that the three of you . . ."
"You don't understand." Hermione interjected.
"I beg your pardon?"
"May Luna join us in our common room?" She asked.
"You know that is not permitted."
"May we join Luna in her common room?" She continued with a long suffering, patient tone.
"Miss Granger . . . "
"Then, we will continue to choose this course of action." The two women simply looked at each other for a long moment. The older woman sighed.
"I will see what I can do."
The only talking in the third memory was done by a hat - the sorting hat. It was singing.
Unless the fences really mend
They will simply fall again
Let us learn lest we see
What will be is what has been
Across the aisles to fix the wounds
Knowing we are more the same
Than any difference I may find
When the teacher calls your name
I hope this time you understand
When I end my warning song
What it is you should do
And where it is that we go wrong
9 February 2038
Sadie,
My apologies, darling. I should have checked back with you sooner. Those troublesome owls are really getting out of hand because I know you would never ignore my correspondence. We will get together to go over your source material tomorrow afternoon. Let me know what time. I know you would never get prima donnaish on me, so I know you will be timely in your response.
Constance
There were so many emotions and changes to be dealt with in the aftermath of Voldemort's time in power. Your group of friends seems to have dusted themselves off and gone on to lives of (relative) normalcy. Did you notice anyone struggling to make the adjustment? What do you think was the contributing factor in how well you all adjusted?
Sadie felt herself flush looking at the question she had written before seeing the Dean Thomas memories. It was so easy to look at the survivors with their families and jobs and notations in the margins of history and think that that was all that mattered. It was so easy to ignore the damage that wasn't visible. Would anyone who hadn't truly known those individuals both before and after ever be able to understand exactly what that fight against evil had cost them? Maybe not.
Sadie did understand one thing that had been fuzzy in her world view before this whole project started. She knew the why. She knew the answer to why them. She knew the answer to why then. Her cynicism and doubt had been washed against the rocks of Luna's blunt honesty and shattered in the process. It was funny how she really didn't count it as a loss. It was funny how instead of learning all about Luna she seemed to be learning all about herself. Although she knew that the answer to her question must be that they had struggled (and that the methods of their coping weren't really her business), she had asked and been answered. She might as well let the parchment play.
Everyone copes with change (catastrophic or gradual) in a slightly (or not so slightly) different way. Some people keep all their struggles internal, some advertise it for the world at large, and some try to continue their lives denying that any change has taken place. We were no different. I am sure that were you to survey the bulk of those involved, you would receive as many variations on the theme of "how did you cope" as people of whom you inquired.
It isn't necessarily how you cope that leads to the ability to frame your life within the new normal and sojourn forward. It is the fact that you actually do the coping that opens up that road. If you are blessed (and we were very much so), you have friends that help you along your way. Sometimes it is by giving you the space you need to make your adjustments, and sometimes it is pushing you to recognize that adjustments need to be made. The trick of a good friend is to know someone well enough to know the difference.
The Hogwarts' Express had featured so prominently in so many of Luna's memories that Sadie was not surprised to find herself back on it. It was still quieter than Sadie would have defined as normal, but the quiet was filled with hopeful expectation this time instead of dread. Luna and Ginny were alone in the compartment.
"She's missed the train," Ginny was saying with a mixture of concern and annoyance.
"She might have boarded after us."
"Where is she then?" Ginny sighed and took a deep breath after almost yelling. "You don't know what it has been like. She hasn't answered any letters for over a month. She might not even be in England. Ron's going frantic. You saw him at the station. I thought I was done spending all my time fretting over people." Her head met her hands and the last bit came out muffled. "I'm turning into Mum."
Whatever comforting (or not so comforting) response Luna was going to make was interrupted by the appearance of Hermione in the doorway. She looked run down, tired, and her shoulders held so much tension they resembled a drawn back bowstring.
"Hullo." Luna greeted sounding more cautious than Sadie had ever heard her.
"You've made it!" Ginny exclaimed launching herself at the girl who looked as if her friend's embrace pained her. She pulled back a bit and regained some of her composure. "Are your parents all settled back at home?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "They're still in Australia."
"I'm so sorry," Ginny informed her edging in for another embrace. Hermione held her off with a raised hand.
"I still think the reversal will work. I just didn't try."
"I don't understand." Hermione's face and manner turned aloof as she replied.
"They are perfectly happy where they are. Why bother to burden them with worry over a daughter who is just going to leave them again?"
Luna and Ginny were crouched against a wall in some part of the castle unknown to Sadie. Ginny was once again doing the talking.
"It's as though something sucked all the life right out of her and left behind this empty shell caricature. She goes to class, she studies, she sits in the library, she does perfect work, and she knows the answer to every question a teacher asks her. She also doesn't sleep, stares off into space whenever she thinks no one is noticing, has red, blotchy eyes whenever she comes back from being alone, avoids talking whenever possible, hasn't answered any of Ron's or Harry's letters, and she just isn't her. I can't take it any more. We're losing her, and I don't know why."
"It's going to be okay."
"How do you know that?"
"Because we won't let it not be."
All three of the girls stood in a semi-dark classroom in the third memory. Whatever Ginny and Luna had to say had obviously already been said because no one except Hermione had the floor.
"So, you thought what precisely? That you were going to stage some sort of intervention? I don't need an intervention. I'm finally thinking clearly. More clearly than I have in ages. Maybe more clearly than I have in my entire life. I am perfectly aware of my place in the universe and how lousy I am at filling it. I am just fine!"
"Hermione . . . we just want to help." Ginny began.
"Help?" Hermione scoffed. "Why bother? After what I've done to you? After what I've done to all of them? I'm not worth it." Her voice became louder and simultaneously more difficult to understand as the now nearing hysterical girl continued. She was sobbing and breathless but continued to try to talk. The result was the uttering of a whole lot of broken, difficult to understand pieces of thoughts all jumbled into one long, flowing indistinguishable mass.
"Parents . . . without . . . happier now . . . would have been happier all along . . . abnormal child . . . so much stress . . . not understanding . . . put them through . . . left them . . . put first . . . cancelled . . . never complained . . . made targets . . . didn't tell, actually lied . . . boggart right . . . always fail everything . . . nobody wanted . . . bossy . . . boring . . . only good for helping . . . not really like . . . wouldn't want for a friend . . . couldn't even do that right . . . always let them down . . . Harry . . . tried to tell . . . wouldn't listen . . . I didn't make him listen . . . could have saved . . . only tried harder . . . shouldn't have let him go . . . wasn't good enough to listen to . . . Sirius . . . dead because I failed . . . Harry's chance for a family . . . I killed it . . . let them get me . . . didn't protect them . . . let them down . . . could have been killed . . . useless . . . Ron didn't want . . . was stupid . . . Lavender . . . better than me . . . only makes sense . . . who would want . . . too nice to me . . . I was too dense . . . petty . . . should have been there to help . . . poison . . . could have lost him . . . should have figured it out faster . . . took so long . . . he left because I was too slow . . . what was the point of taking me . . . broke his wand . . . messed up . . . all me . . . didn't think fast enough . . . shield charm . . . something . . . blocked the rubble . . . stopped it . . . too slow . . . didn't think . . . supposed to be the smart one . . . supposed to think fast . . . killed his brother . . . never look at me again . . . keeps writing me . . . can't read it . . . doesn't he think I know . . . can't leave me alone . . . sorry I let his brother die . . . so sorry . . . what does he want . . . tell me he hates me in person . . . can't take that . . . please, anything but that . . ."
The ranting tapered off into a desperate gasping, sobbing noise that could no longer be formed into words as Hermione sank into a quivering ball on the floor. Nothing she had said really made any sense to Sadie, but it seemed to mean something to Luna and Ginny. The two exchanged a heartbroken look of mixed angst and knowledge before converging on the broken girl. The memory ended in a haze of group hugging, sobbing, and murmured comforting noises.
Well, that was . . . intense. Any further introspection on Sadie's part was cut off by the owl at her window. The thickness of the envelope made her think that Adrienne had struck gold somewhere in her research, but she was disappointed at what actually tumbled out onto her lap. It was a stack of pictures each of which was a wizarding shot of Sadie and Drake. There were so many of them (granted seven years of boarding school was a long time and Adrienne was the shutter bug of the group so it wasn't that uncommon for her to be behind the camera instead of in front of it but still . . .), when had they all been taken? Never mind. What was Adrienne playing at? There was no note. There was no explanation. There was just a stack of pictures. She didn't have time for this. She really didn't have time for this because another owl was tapping persistently at her window.
10 February 2038
Sadie,
I thought your deadline was the 14th? Why is Constance running round demanding your head on a platter for failure to make adequate progress? I think we all had better get together and sort things out before this gets out of hand.
Nat
Was it difficult for you to leave England to pursue your career? You seem to have been very close to your friends during the war. Was it difficult to give up that safety net of support?
It is, of course, difficult to leave ones friends and family to start a new chapter in your life. It is also, sometimes, very worth it. I happened to have an extended family of friends who believed in me and wanted what was best for me. I didn't really leave my safety net behind me.
"I want you to be happy. I just wish you didn't have to go away to do it." Ginny was sighing over a cup of tea across the table from Luna at an outdoor café. "If this is about Dean, I'm sure he will be back from whatever soul searching thing he is doing soon."
"He isn't coming back."
"What?"
"I said he isn't coming back."
Ginny suddenly sounded angry. "Are you telling me that he left you!"
"We've already talked about this."
"But I thought . . . I didn't realize . . . Oh, Luna."
"It's fine, Ginny. I'm fine." She took in her friend's skeptical, don't lie to me expression and amended. "I will be fine."
"Please tell me this isn't why you are leaving."
"It isn't, not really."
"Make me understand."
"The rest of you make plans, and they come to be. They may meander on the path a bit, but they happen. When I try to make plans, they never work out. They always fall through. I tried making new plans, but they crumbled on me as well. I think that I am done with planning. I think I am ready to go back to just letting the journey happen. Do you understand that?"
"I do." Ginny paused for a moment. "Are you letting the journey happen, or are you running from the path because you're tired of the meandering?"
Luna sipped her tea instead of answering. Ginny looked pensive.
"What you said about meandering paths? Before our plans work out? He's finally ditched the fan girls."
It was the closest Sadie had ever seen Luna to glaring. "A few minutes ago you were worried over Dean."
"Luna . . ."
"I don't chase after people who don't want me."
Luna was straightening up the contents of shelves in the back of a shop. A much older man was talking to her.
"I'm happy that I've had you for as long as I have. Of course, I wouldn't say no to keeping you longer."
Luna turned and smiled at the man. "I am going to miss you."
"I imagine you will miss many things."
Luna shrugged. "If I didn't go, I would miss those things that I'm going to do now."
"That is the trouble with the road not taken, my dear."
"That there always is one no matter which one you take?"
"Indeed."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gathered around Luna at what appeared to be the Ministry's Portkey Departure Office. The conversation was everything you would expect from a group of close-knit friends saying a good-bye to one of their own. Sadie couldn't focus on it. She was too busy watching the figure she had spotted hanging back in a shadowed doorway. Neville's facial expressions were hard to read. Sadie was fairly certain that she saw longing mixed with doubt. There were a few brief flashes of determination when he started to step forward, but it always faded into resignation as he slunk back. He finally left all together, and the only name Sadie could put to the expression on his face was loss.
Sadie knelt beside the fire place and quickly kindled a small blaze. She fumbled around on her desk until she came upon the still sealed parchment that contained her questions about Neville. She placed it in the grate and watched as the flame caught. She wasn't sure she could even explain why she had done it. She just had the sudden utter conviction that whatever had or had not happened between Luna and Neville, it was nobody's business but their own. She didn't want to see it. Despite everything she knew, there was still something about the thought of Neville and Luna that left a feeling of the final pieces of a puzzle sliding into place in her heart.
It made no sense, but it was what it was. She had no desire to watch the demise of something that was past mending, and she wasn't going to let anyone else gawk at it either. The room was feeling stuffy despite it being midwinter, so Sadie pried open her window. She managed to have impeccable timing as Adrienne's owl came swooping through the gap.
10 February 2038
Sadie,
I don't know what you are thinking, and I don't care that Drake told me to leave you alone. If you aren't present and accounted for by the time he leaves the MOMPO at 8, you are not the friend I thought we had.
Adrienne
Portkey Office? What would Drake be doing at the Portkey Office? With a sudden sinking feeling, she dove back into the pile on her desk until she found the note from the Boots. She tore it open and ran her eyes down the page. It was an invitation, but it wasn't for dinner. It was for a party. Her eyes focused on select phrases as she tried to force her swirling brain to form coherent thoughts. "Good-bye Party" stood out along with "3 years" and "continent travels."
He was going away for three years, and no one had told her. That wasn't a fair thought. They had tried, but she had been too wrapped up in her self to pay any attention. The flood of memories rushed in on her with such speed she thought she might choke on them. They all had one thing in common. They all featured her and Drake - late night study sessions when Adrienne had given up and gone to bed, sitting next to each other cheering at Quidditch matches, dancing together after graduation - and something she had never realized before was suddenly as clear as the reason Adrienne had sent her the stack of pictures. It took all of 20 seconds of basking in the glow of her new knowledge for the doubt to creep to the forefront. He was leaving. It was a wonderful work opportunity. She shouldn't interfere. It wasn't the right time. He might not even feel the same. She might not even feel the same. What if she was just emotionally overwrought and didn't want her friend to leave? What if she was just being selfish? Her mental back and forth was halted when her eyes found the clock - 7:37.
The next item to register in her vision was smoke. It was coming from the howler that the office owl had just dropped in her lap. Her boss's voice had never sounded so grim.
MISS CREEVEY! YOUR BLATANT DISREGARD OF YOUR EDITOR IS NOT ONLY UNPROFESSIONAL BUT COMPLETELY INEXCUSABLE. YOU WILL BE IN MY OFFICE WITH ALL YOUR COLLECTED SOURCE MATERIAL, DRAFTS, AND REVISIONS BY 8 P.M. FOR A MEETING WITH MS. SMITH AND MYSELF. YOU WILL FOLLOW DIRECTION AND FINISH THIS PROJECT TO OUR SPECIFICATIONS OR YOU WILL NOT ONLY FIND YOURSELF OUT OF A POSITION; YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF NO LONGER EMPLOYABLE IN THE ENTIRE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY.
Sadie had no idea what Constance had said to provoke such ire, and she didn't have time to figure it out. The clock changed to 7:40. She had to make a decision, and she had to do it on impulse.
The door slammed closed behind her leaving a flurry of papers slowly settling to the floor and a pile of ash swirling in the grate.