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The chilled afternoon air nips at their exposed fingers as they walk through the meadow, ice encasing the plants and snow underfoot. Winter started early this year Sebastian announces; Amanda not responding as she increases her speed to keep eyes on a rescued Kneazle, still monitoring its gate. It was badly injured by a poacher trap, a front leg snatched in a steel snap trap, a lazy way to torture and capture an animal. Unfortunately by the time Poppy broke up the camp, the leg was too late to save. Amanda was more than eager to take the kneazle in, hoping to rehabilitate it in a vivarium for release if they could prove their ability to survive. Unfortunately for Sebastian, the kneazle decided it was meant to live with them, serving as an oversized and slightly uncoordinated pet.
“If that creature tries to get between us while we sleep again I will turn it over to the poachers myself.” Sebastian teases, yet the bags under his eyes can’t be faked, having slept poorly as that damn creature demanded it sleep directly behind his wife despite him already being there, his arms tightly wrapped around her shoulder and waist. Despite shoving it off several times, that oversized house cat was willing to suffocate him by sinking onto his neck, depressing his windpipe with its large size. In a moment of exhaustion where Sebastian rolled away from Amanda, the kneazle dropped in between them,the one front leg curled against Amanda’s back and her strong back legs threatening Sebastian’s bare chest with its claws as she kicked him away from the human who saved her, it’s golden eyes glaring at him in the dark of night.
This was also after being gone for five days on a mission, he was desperate for sleep and for his wife. The mission ended not as successful as he had hoped it to be, having been fed false information from what he had hoped was an ashwinder that was looking to change his ways. Of course, the term ashwinder is so loose now. Even 8 years after Rookwood and Harlow’s disappearance and arrest, the group never recovered, instead splitting into multiple factions with varying degrees of success. This group in particular was gaining ground in the region north of Hogwarts but with the false information their attempted raid and subsequent attempts to recover from their blunder it resulted in being an embarrassing return to the ministry.
Taking pity on her tired husband, Amanda slows her pace, the warmth of his hand along with the wide toothy grin making her feel a certain bubbly warmth across her whole body, a stunning shock to the cold outside. Seeing her reaction, Sebastian pulls her by the waist to his side before nibbling on her ear, his hand slipping down lower as well.
Regaining control of the situation, Amanda twirls herself out of his tempting grasp, keeping his wandering hand a length away. “I’m sure Vi did not mean to disturb your sleep Seb! She’s still getting used to living around humans and just wanted my comfort.” As if in agreement, Vi turns around and meows in her direction, ignoring the man that she has to tolerate.
A vein pops in Sebastian’s forehead as she smirks at him. “You’ve named her now! She’s a terror Amanda.”
His plain annoyance of an innocent beast has her cackling as Vi happily trots towards her, requesting to be picked up. Though awkward, she manages it before spinning towards her husband who stands dumbfounded. “Don’t say such mean things about Vi!” Teasing him further, she approaches Sebastian who can’t resist wrapping his arms around her, though careful to avoid the mischievous beast. “Now you need to apologize to her.”
Huffing in indignation he goes to take a step back, but like an experienced dance partner, Amanda follows him, backing him into a tree to force an apology out of him.
“I am sorry for calling you a terror Vi.” His voice is deadpan, as he stares at his wife, her insufferable smirk on display.
According to her, Vi begrudgedully accepted the apology before leaping back onto the ground, slinking back to the house. Alone now, Amanda presses her lips to Sebastian’s neck, her tongue flicking over his pulse point as her hips slide against his. Understanding the message, he uses his large statue to push away from the tree, catching her off balance enough it’s easy for him to grab her hand as he sets a quick pace back to the house, the grin of a devil now, his tiredness long forgotten.
Overheating now from their layers, an owl holding a letter in an unfamiliar scrawl, divebombs them as they step onto the porch. Insistent that Sebastian take the letter, Amanda holds her hand to her chest, appreciative it was a warning nip and not overt aggressive from when she tried to take the letter. Most owl’s, even ones that haven’t met her before, that deliver to her husband have decided she is as trustworthy as he is.
“Those damn informants are always ruining it for us.” Amanda sighs, undoing her scarf as she heads inside, giving Sebastian privacy for auror business. Also annoyed by the delivery and the owl’s harsh behavior towards her, he rushes to the door to kiss her in a way to make her forget the temporary delay to their plans.
With her gasping against the door, her hair ruffled and cheeks flushed, he reassures her it’ll only be a moment, unlikely the letter is a true emergency that would disrupt the peaceful day they are having. “I’ll be inside in just a moment, my love. Perhaps brew some tea for afterwords?”
Legs weak, she nods her head before taking her teetering steps inside, Sebastian feeling quite proud that he can still have this effect on her after over 5 years of marriage.
Turning his attention to the letter, the name scrawled in the top corner, Gregory Walt, is unfamiliar, definitely not one of his informants. “From Feldcroft?” Even more peculiar. He’s tried his best to ignore the hamlet since the night he and Anne left it. Even the Ministry seems to be aware of that fact and rarely send them on missions anywhere near it. Though perhaps that could also have been from the incident on his and Anne’s first day on the job. An older auror that worked with Solomon years ago, but unfamiliar of his fall from grace in his professional and personal life, tried to compare the siblings to their uncle; he was met with their wands at his throat before he could finish his sentence.
Now terrified one of his informants is in trouble and was forced to change identities and go into hiding, the loud ripping of the seal tears the peacefulness of the day down with it.
— —
Having finished her paperwork from a successful raid on a group selling fake healing potions the week before, Anne sits back at her desk, the dark hippogriff feather quill Amanda gifted her shimmers in the midday sun that peaks through the clouds and comes through the window. The ministry is still skeptical of her and Sebastian working missions together, meaning they tend to separate them every few missions to then be reminded of how well her and her twin work together when given the opportunity.
Shoving away the thought, she considers what she would like to do with the rest of her day. Amit is in Pitt-Upon-Ford studying a celestial body that will be in a very rare state of high visibility for the week. He kissed her silly before he left, feeling bad to be leaving her alone for a week like she doesn’t leave for much longer periods of time as an auror.
Walking through the house she opens up the windows, letting the cool air in that she tries to be conscious of when Amit is here. Never wanting to interrupt her simple pleasures in life, he relies heavily on warming spells, wool sweaters, and a roaring fire to keep him warm during this season so she can enjoy the cold weather. But, she’s always suspected that his lack of complaints is rooted in the countless hours they spend curled up by the fireplace, sometimes lost in their books, other times lost in each other. Amit always requests her being in his arms which she never denies. Curiously enough, Anne only began to love the cold after spending many a night in the astronomy tower with Amit during their last 2 years of school. His passion for astronomy overpowers his hatred of the cold at night, but cold during the day is nearly unbearable.
With the rest of her day open, she debates how she would like to spend it. She would love to go see Sebastian to cheer him up after his raid fell through, but decides to follow up with him in a week, knowing he and Amanda won’t be far apart from each other the first few days after a trip. It has been a while since she’s seen Poppy, perhaps she will OWL her and go see the snidgets nearby, she keeps gushing about how big the latest brood has gotten. She also considers going to see Garreth, seeing if he needs help grading any papers for his students as he’s serving as the interim professor for the month as Sharp is gone for a research project. She does also need to see Ominis, having collected his personal items after his quick departure from the ministry and not having delivered them yet.
A sudden hunger pain hits her, reminding herself she only had toast that morning before working on her paperwork. She tends to be insensitive to her body’s cues, the only side effect that remains from Rookwood’s curse. After having those horrific bouts of pain, other pain is barely noticeable. Heading to the kitchen, she starts to prepare herself a late lunch, a gentle smile at the thought of how Amit would overly praise her for listening to a basic biological cue that she typically will ignore until she feels faint.
Humming to herself as she sets a knife to chop some vegetables, an unfamiliar owl smashing into her open window disrupts the relaxed day. First falling backwards into the bush, it flutters up to perch on the sill, extending it’s leg out to her, barely able to keep itself gripped onto the thin wood frame. Worried something could have happened to Amit, she rushes towards it, nearly knocking the poor bird back into the bush as her shaky hands untie the letter from its leg. Puzzled, the name Gregory Walt seems familiar, yet also distant, like it's from another life, a past life even. It’s from Feldcroft. The sender’s name is seared into her eyes despite shutting them as soon as she read the address.
He lived across the town square for as long as her and Sebastian lived in Feldcroft. Nice enough, he worked closely with Solomon when it came to training the villagers in dueling basics when the goblin presence was at its worst. The same age of Solomon, he was much softer in appearance and attitude. When Anne was first cursed, he rallied the hamlet to provide meals for them in between long trips to St. Mungos, unfortunately Solomon shut that down after the first meal, not one to accept help. She’s surprised she forgot him, but she did try to move on from that place. It's only natural after everything that happened 8 years ago and since then.
Her knife, impatient and done with its task, chops itself harshly on the wood board, the strong thud rattling the board to the ground and her from her stupor. The harsh flick of her wand forces the knife to rest, the board remaining on the ground as the letter remains clutched in her hands. One slow breath later, the letter is ripped open, the envelope fluttering to the floor, the last peaceful thing to happen before she reads the news.
— —
Dear Anne and Sebastian.
I can only hope these letters find you fast, after you left in the dead of night all those years ago, we had no inkling of where you went. It is with much regret that I must tell you that your dear Uncle was found dead early this morning after 3 days of no one seeing him. I am so sorry for your loss. Please come to Feldcroft when you receive this. I believe there is much to discuss.
My deepest condolences,
Gregory Walt
— —
The calm, cool, collected Sebastian is chaotic as he reads the letter, scaring Amanda when barging into the house.
His voice was shaky with eyes wide, his speech sloppy and urgent. “We need to go. Now! We just have to go.”
Scared of his behavior but even more scared of what he might do in this state, Amanda moves purposefully towards him, not losing time being overly cautious in her approach like he’s a beast. “Seb, what’s going on?”
His quivering lip only fills her with worries instead of answers. Surrendering the letter with ease, he collapses forward into the table, his fingernails leaving imprints in the wood as the tension keeps him standing.
“Oh.” What do you say to a letter like that?Especially to not upset your spouse more. “We can leave within the hour Sebastian. I’ll write to the Weasleys and let Ominis know. Let’s go pick up Anne.” Her hand runs between his hunched and tight shoulder blades, trying to provide him a modicum of comfort.
He shakes his head ‘no,’ defeated already. “She knows. I can tell.” Even hamlets away, the twins have a deep bond and connection no one understands. He feels it in his gut, that she got the letter the same time he did. The twisted knife in his side pales to any curse he’s been hit with, knowing his sister received this news by herself. “We need to go. I don’t want her there by herself.”
“Alright.” Still finding his strength, Amanda places a loving kiss to his cheek before finding a scrap piece of paper to send quick letters off to Garreth, Ominis, and Poppy. Her owl, a stunning Barred Owl that Sebastian gifted her for their wedding, is eager to fly off with the letters, nearly taking flight before she can seal the last envelope.
That done, she wraps Sebastian’s scarf tighter around his neck, insisting they travel to the floo point for their own safety, neither of them clear headed enough to apparate.
— —
Numb, she places the letter onto the counter, the feel of a twisted knife in her chest telling her Sebastian knows as well. Miraculously, she stumbles back into a chair instead of the ground. The pain in her chest is the only thing keeping her grounded while she rereads the letter, analyzing it, like her job has trained her to do. With dry eyes and a steady hand, she writes a letter to Amit, alerting him of the news. Her quill is the only sound in the house, like the wind had heard the news and stilled in shock.
My uncle has passed, please meet me in Feldcroft when you receive this.
With eternal devotion,
Marianne
It’s a simple yet efficient letter, containing the pertinent information and lacking the emotion that would slow her travel to Feldcroft. Her owl takes the letter with ease, eager for an adventure.
She shuts each window by hand, her pace casual and unconcerned. The fire is extinguished and food discarded. When content with the state of her house, she pictures the place she lived in from 9-16 years old. Even the smell of it, the scent of lost dreams and burning wood comes back to her with ease as she pictures the hamlet square with its patchy grass but thoughtfully laid stone steps. The stone wall surrounding it had been repaired by Solomon countless times after being broken by fun duels with her twin or by neighbors also practicing their dueling skills. His look of disappointment was clear as he ‘reparioded’ the wall, careful to pay attention to the bonding material of each stone and make it solid again. Like she’s 16 and not cursed again, she sees the hamlet in its picturesque state, the harsh spiral of apparating nothing more than an annoying windstorm as she travels the large distance.
— —
They don’t talk once the flames fade, merely observing the scenery of how things have changed in the 8 years since they had seen Solomon’s house. Where flowers and medicinal plants once blossomed under the dedication of Sebastian and Anne has been replaced with pathetic patches of grass. In particular, shattered pots that once contained mallowsweet and dittany, and are scattered by the front door, as if Solomon threw them outside the moment he returned to the hamlet after Sharp discovered the truth of the events that happened at Rookwood castle and never bothered to clear the path of the broken pottery. The house seems to be slowly sinking into the earth with no life left to it, now released from its duties to protect its inhabitants.
There’s a dusting of snow on the ground, a pathetic winter scene in comparison to how Mauraween is. Even the wind is still, preserving the hollowness of the day with its eeriness. The few villagers wandering about give them plenty of space as they head to their own households.
Anne apparates in smoothly, barely disturbing the scene. On sight, the sharp pain in her chest and in Sebastian’s side disappear, their deep bond now content as they embrace each other. Something about the scene makes Amanda’s chest explode into flames, anger that she suppressed for years coming to the surface in a flash now that Sebastian and Anne are together. Looking away, she studies a stack of rocks, clearly put together by a child, determined to not let tears or a harsh word slip out.
In her peripheral vision, a man approaches them, Gregory Walt presumably, the twins seemingly familiar with him. Unable to hear his words, she watches Anne give a defeated nod while Sebastian clenches his first to his side, the arm wrapped around his sister unaffected by the news, steady as always.
Amanda catches the tail end of Gregory’s sincerest condolences before the jingling of keys fills the bland scene, Anne confidently taking them. The thin layer of snow crunches underneath their feet as they approach their deceased uncle’s house, stopping in unison to study the footsteps leading to the house and the information they received from the neighbor.
“Gregory never knew he couldn’t use magic anymore, no one did.” Anne says more for herself than her brother.
“Would explain why he isolated himself after he was cursed.” If his uncle wasn’t dead, the phrase would have been spiteful, mocking even at his fate. But with his death, it drained them of their emotions. “He couldn’t let them know of his condition and risk them finding out the truth.
“Sounds like how he was when we first moved here after his incident as an auror.” Anne acknowledges, helping to remind Sebastian how Solomon was distant not only from them but from their neighbors too for many years. After their parents died Sebastian spent years blaming himself for their deaths, like he could have changed anything at that young age. The guilt that kept him awake at night distracted him from the situation that they were currently living in.
Remembering now, Sebastian nods his head, loosening his scarf as well, prepared to go into the house. “The hamlet needing his knowledge and skills explains how he changed rapidly after that first goblin attack.”
“The power he felt. How he was needed.” Anne sighs, the cold keys feeling like they could slice a finger off as she fiddles with them, “He lost that forever when he was cursed.”
With distance between them, Amanda finds the strength to lift her head again to observe them while keeping her own emotions at bay. The unbalanced and fast steps barreling across the hamlet further keeps her emotions in check as she intercepts Amit before he interrupts the siblings.
“Marianne! I’m here.”
With surprising strength to stop his momentum, Amanda’s shaky hands grip onto his arm, the heels of her shoes scraping into the damp ground briefly before nearly sending Amit down face first from the harsh braking system.
From a quick glance at him, it seems he was still asleep when he received the letter, likely up into the early hours stargazing. His shoes are mismatched, and also only left feet. His button down shirt is uneven and wrinkled, two buttons sticking out at the top while hanging unevenly from his shoulders.
“Just-” her breath hitches, her calm facade starting to crack, “just give them a moment.” The voice crack is the final lock on the dam breaking open, warm tears immediately beginning to fill her eyes. Shock, anger, and worry flood her body, a flurry of confusion that still pales to the surprise of Solomon’s demise.
With one last glance to his wife, having to trust that there’s some unspoken trauma that her and her brother has that he should not in interrupt, her embraces his sister-in-law, knowing that they will have to support their spouses in what they may only see glimpses of the true depth of emotions they will face in the coming months. Though always friendly, their shared experiences of being the spouses of aurors, and the chaotic Sallow twins at that, has created a deep bond that encourages vulnerability between them.
The creak of the front door, clearly not tended to for years, shakes them to their cores as they see their spouses begin to enter the house. Preparing themselves for whatever may come, Amit gives Amanda a handkerchief for her tears, knowing Sebastian will fret over her much more than she can over him if he notices her wet cheeks. For Anne, he straightens out his shirt and attempts to fix his disastrous hair, the frantic appearance of him usually a give away of his own distraught.
Trying to gather information of what might be to come, Amit uses questions to keep himself and Amanda focused on what helping their spouses might entail. “What was Solomon like? Anne rarely mentioned him after 5th year.”
“An arrogant bully.” A blast of cold air freezes the rest of her emotions, only a flicker of spite remaining, “But he was their last family member besides each other.” Her plaited hair, already partially ruined from Sebastian earlier, frames her face as she shakes her head, “I know what I experienced in 5th year, but anything before that is…” The shoulder shrug is as unbiased as she can be, unsure of how Anne and Sebastian would describe it. In their 5th year, discussing their childhood was impossible with the challenges they were facing and after Solomon left Hogwarts that night, it never felt right to ask.
Within a minute, Anne and Sebastian are outside, whiter than the snow on the ground. Amit reaches them first, catching his wife before she stumbles into the debris by the door. Sebastian’s hand grips onto the side of the house, his legs barely working to support himself. Guiding him to the ground, Amanda swipes his hair from his forehead, pressing a firm kiss there as he gasps for air. Her fingers circle in his hair, wanting to soothe him before asking any questions.
Behind them, Anne gagging and a quick Evanesco from Amit only fills Amanda with more sick curiosity for what happened. Against her better judgment, her neck cracks as she cranes it back, looking through the still open door. Feeling the urge herself to vomit at the sight she sees, she snaps her attention back to her husband who has caught his breath but not slowed his high speed mind.
“He killed himself Amanda.”
“You don’t know that Sebastian!” She insists, despite her brain accepting it with ease, the gruesome pool of blood that was visible through the door crack invading her mind.
His head nod is absolute, knowing the only way for that amount of blood to be spilled would have to come from Solomon using magic again. Rookwoods curse reopening the cut on his arm, likely splitting all the way to his wrist. Nodding her head back to him, they find their way to their feet, forcing their emotions into a box to handle the next steps. Anne and Amit stand as well, joining them.
Walking back into the house, the sight of blood is sickening even with closed off hearts, yet the group persists in searching for a note or a will, anything that would show final wishes or explanations. Amit stays by the door, not use to seeing such a horrific scene like the others who are desensitized to when it's not a personal affair. He’s gone a sickly pale, his fingers shaking as he presses on his stomach, determined to stay strong for the others.
Though Mr. Walt had already had the body removed in preparation of their arrival, it’s clear Solomon had been sitting in the chair facing the door, his back to the wall. Presumably, as his body weakened, he fell forward into the table, hence the still pooled blood present there, long since having had stopped dripping onto the floor below.
The tidiness of the house is a harsh juxtaposition to the outside of it. The dishes are clean and placed purposefully into the rack, others placed into cabinets. The shelves are dusted, the few knick knacks polished and placed back into place. The fire has gone out though, the embers now cool to the touch Sebastian reports as he investigates the area. The pot, hanging above the fireplace, is thankfully empty, the idea of rotting food making the scene even worse off makes him suppress a gag.
In the bedroom, the item Amanda finds laying on the floor that all but confirms the theory she had. The desk is partially in disarray, the duster carelessly dropped underneath it, like the magic that controlled it died mid cleaning. To cause his death, he used magic, even as he faced immense pain, he wanted power in his last seconds, the thing he had lost so many years ago, a mere glimpse of how things used to be.
The loss of your given legacy is a fate worse than death.
Her hand tightens as it remembers the overwhelming pain it felt when she heard that curse from Victor Rookwood, just seconds after Solomon had tried to obliviate her memories. From across the house, Sebastian spots the feather duster too, his eyes snapping to hers to find her distant, surely analyzing the events of that fateful day 8 years ago.
Both content that their theories were proven correct, they exit the house, joining Amit and Anne in the garden, Anne lovingly rubbing Amit’s back as he retches behind a large dead potted plant, apologizing profusely. Still in a professional mode, Anne shushes at him, encouraging him to rest at once. Amanda offers to keep the queasy Amit accompanied, allowing Anne breaks away to discuss arraignments with Sebastian, the conversation overly formal like they will be writing a report on it for the ministry.
The apparition of Ominis and Garreth starts to break everyone down, the support of others allowing the poorly constructed walls to crumble. In particular, a few small sentences from Ominis to Anne and Sebastian seems to trigger the collapse of the facade they had hastily created. Garreth checks on the others, offering his condolences and support, but feeling self conscious of his lack of knowledge. The entire group teetering on the edge of total collapse is held together by Poppy who invites them all to stay at her house in Irondale, none of them in the state to travel large distances that evening.
Her house is cozy with plump pillows and crowded walls covered in photos of the forever mischievous group of young adults, along with pictures of beasts she’s rescued over the years. Despite the welcoming setting, it provides little comfort to anyone as they find their places, their positions mirroring the levels of grief. Anne and Sebastian, most lost in their grief, are on the floor, leaning on each other like they are children again when they were freshly orphaned and scared of the future.
Next is Amanda and Ominis, sitting in armchairs that try to embrace them but fall short with how they have shrunk themselves down, wanting to fade away. The warm cup of herbal tea keeps them grounded as they hold it in their hands but still lack the strength or interest to even take a sip.
Standing in the kitchen, peering around the corner to keep an eye on the four, are Garreth, Amit, and Poppy. Their glasses of firewhiskey are well tended to as they reflect on the day and ponder what is to come in the coming days as they all face emotions that feel insurmountable.
——
The snow had melted by the day of Solomon’s burial. It was a short and private event. Gregory Walt is the only person from Feldcroft that attends despite the cemetery simply being on the outskirts of town and easily accessible by any that would have liked to attend. The 8 attendees are there out of obligation only, none of them feeling a strong desire to memorialize a man that they had tried to forget for years. Yet, the grief weighs them down, the somber affair affecting everyone differently.
Gregory feels regret for letting Solomon slip away, as the one that took over as the village protector 8 years ago, he should have noticed how Solomon was struggling. But Solomon had become overly abrasive, there was no way to bring him back.
Poppy has no sympathy for the buried body, but an endless amount of concern for her loved ones, knowing how complicated families can be. She touches the bracelet that Gran had given her upon graduation from Hogwarts, missing her more than usual on a day like this.
Much like Poppy, Garreth worries for the others, still struggling to comprehend the complexities of the relationship each person had to the man. Ominis is his first concern though, his husband seeming to be disoriented lately even with using his wand. Describing the headstone and cemetery in detail, Ominis nods his head, the picture that Garreth painted quite clear. His mind has been soured with thoughts of his childhood to the point where the only thing he can picture is the tragedy of the funeral.
What Amit lacks in understanding and knowledge he makes up with his steadfastness in serving Anne, his hand pressed to the small of her back while the other holds her hand, relaxed at her side, keeping her from apparrating off to Merlin knows where.
After last night, when Gregory delivered all of Solomon’s belongings that may be of interest to them, she’s been a flight risk. Though it was only two boxes worth of things, one of the boxes contained journals from their parents, documenting their travels and research. Solomon must have collected them from Keenbridge at some point, but kept them hidden from his niece and nephew. Both of them were absorbed by their parent’s belongings, having a physical way to connect with them after nearly 15 years of them being gone.
Sebastian naturally latched onto his mother’s research, barely sleeping that night as he started to plot locations on gathering ingredients and how best to continue his mother’s research. Anne was glued to her father’s journal immediately. He traveled much more than she remembers to historical sights and secluded places. After an hour of reading, she already had two scrolls of parchment filled with places she wanted to visit. By midnight, she was close to apparatting to a place nearby that her father had passed through 18 years ago until Amit convinced her to rest, that in her sleepless delirium she wasn’t thinking straight.
Standing tall, Anne looks at the simple headstone, trying to keep her mind on the event at hand but struggling to do so. Bitterness lingers in her head, still trying after all these years to assume Solomon had good intentions in keeping the notebooks from them, but she can’t find a reason for it. Her own internal scolding for a wandering mind keeps the anger at bay, the same cannot be said for her twin.
Sebastian is tense, about to scream the more he thinks about what Solomon kept from them and what else he could have kept tucked away in his lifetime. It’s simply another tale in the book that explains the tumultuous relationship between nephew and uncle. The anger that fills him can only be released by having a target for it and now with his uncle gone, Sebastian is burdened with an anger that will only evolve into resentment and fear and obsession when not released. His soft freckled charismatic face is frozen into a scowl that could kill; the look doesn’t suit him.
Nevertheless, Amanda stands by him, her arm entwined with his tightly. Staring off into the distance, she tries to keep the memories at bay, failing miserably as she winces at the thought of how Solomon’s wand felt pressed to her temple as he tried to erase the memories of him attacking her. All the other memories are numb to her, but that moment of terror is still fresh. In all the times she’s been attacked or nearly killed, she has always been victorious in the end, but not with Solomon. The finality of the tombstone is mocking her; reminding her that he had the last word in their duel, the war now ended with him as the victor despite his lack of breath.
After the appropriate time of standing vigil, the group leaves, all walking away with dry eyes but cloudy minds, lost in the thoughts that haunt them, concern for each other, and the desperation of moving on from this.
As the others go back to Irondale to spend one last night with Poppy, Gregory Walt goes back to Feldcroft, wanting to check on the progress of the Sallow house. Having no interest in restoring the property themselves, they turned it over to the village to decide what to do with it. Immediately, the village banded together to remodel and repair the house for a young engaged couple that would have struggled to find a place of their own in the region. The house that had fallen into shambles has flourished with the love of the neighbors, filled with more kindness and light than it had been ever before. In less than a week, everything in the house had been changed out for a newer style and the foundation expanded too, adding a true bedroom and office to it. It’s barely recognizable as the house that Solomon once lived in, and just like that, the memory of the man whose legacy was only feeling pride in other’s reliance on him is further removed from the people who lived near him for over 15 years.
In Irondale, the house is eerily silent even with all seven sitting in the kitchen together. They all think of different things as they stare off into the distance, all absent from the large table as platters of food sit ignored. The only movement in the house comes from the imprinted puffskeins that wander around to each person, trying to comfort them with their large eyes and plushy coats but they eventually all come to rest near Poppy, sensing her tiredness but also relief as the memories of Solomon begin to fade from their minds as the night ticks on. Like a protective mother hen, she insists they all get sleep, hoping it will get them to focus on their loved ones instead of the man whose legacy was only caring for himself and his ego.
Garreth struggles to stay awake the moment Ominis wraps his arms around him, the affection being initiated by him a welcome change to how things have been. Since the news was delivered, Garreth had spent most nights reminding Ominis that he’s safe, holding him in his arms until his mind would give out and let him rest. Even after that, Garreth would force himself to stay awake, always ready to comfort him if he woke up for any reason. But tonight, Ominis insists on holding Garreth in his arms as he rests, a small token of his appreciation to the love that he has for him. Garreth’s adorable snores helps to remind Ominis that he is safe and won’t be punished for being himself, nor will be used as a bragging right from an ex-auror that a family member from the esteemed house of Gaunt regularly stays at his household, even if that reason is out of pure desperation to avoid abuse. Solomon’s legacy of conditional care will always remind him of the worse things he was avoiding at home and why he left his family while also reminding him of the family he has gained over the years.
Amit will always be able to stay up later than Anne regardless of how much coffee she drinks, the night is his own to study the stars above and the one in his arms while she rests peacefully, that fact in particular serving him well this week as she has fought sleep every night. Refusing to lay down, Anne bounces her leg while sitting on the edge of the bed, a side effect of anger in her. He kept items from their parents from them. As her childhood memories slipped away each passing year, Solomon hid their legacy from their children, creating the legacy of secretiveness and selfishness. While Sebastian stewed in guilt over his parent’s passing, Anne latched onto Solomon easily, her dependence on him for those first few years gave him plenty of reasons to keep anything attaching them to their parents a secret just to feel important himself.
With his back against the bed, Amit leans over, his head resting on her bouncing knee, stopping it immediately. The pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard stick together at first, needing a gentle hand to separate them out before he begins to read aloud to Anne, his voice quieting her own in her head. By 5 minutes into reading, she begins to yawn, her fingers now twisting the hair on the nape of his neck. After 10 minutes, her shoulders are sagging and her eyes struggle to stay open, determined to listen to the rest of Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump if only to hear Amit’s voice for longer. Seeing her state, he momentarily pauses the story to get her into bed, her head resting on his chest while he sneaks a hand under the shirt of his that she stole to wear, much too long that it’s a short dress, to sit on her hip, the warmth of his hand another way soothe her. His other hand holds the book, carefully turning the pages with just his thumb as he continues reading to Anne well into her sleep, hoping his voice pushes any nightmares away. Not that Anne would admit it, but he knows she would have the same reaction if he read a textbook aloud, his voice having become a way to reach her when her mind wanders too far away.
Sebastian and Amanda are the worst of the group, the war of not feeding off of each other's emotions leading to overly complex battles where they toe the line of falling off the cliff to join the other. Tired of the war, Amanda’s numbness is the white flag waving in the distance. At first, Sebastian doesn’t accept it, wanting to continue the tumultuous fight, releasing every drop of rage in his body with her, another person that directly challenged Solomon and was punished for it.
His pacing is incessant, wearing tracks into the rug at the foot of the bed, while Amanda lays back onto the pillows, loosely curled in on herself, a piece of hair repeatedly being twisted in her fingers, the simple task draining her of the little energy she has. The wax from a nearby candle nearly overspills its tray when Sebastian slams his foot against the bed, a wave of weakness coming over him suddenly. The harsh rock of the bed stirs Amanda from her light sleep, slightly scared like she’s under attack. The sharp pain running up his leg frees him from his cage. In the dimness of the room, he looks at his wife.
She’s stunning in the candlelight. Her hair is frizzy and there’s drool dried to her chin from sleep. His sweater that she’s stolen is hanging off her shoulder as she brushes hair out of her face, revealing the light blue eyes that still take his breath away. Forgetting his pain, he reaches out for her, his knees sinking into the plush bed as he supports her face in his hands. She sinks into the touch, truly relaxing for the first time that week. The kiss is barely there but it explodes the things that haunt them at the moment. It’s a temporary cure, but it will get them through the night.
“It wasn’t our fault Sebastian.”
“I know.” His voice is fragile, but accepting of the truth.
“Nothing he did, and anything that happened,” her brain still tries to tell her it's his fault that he was cursed, but she finishes the sentence, each repetition helping to remind her of the truth, “to him was caused by us.”
His head nod is calm, their eyes locked in on each other, forcing the other one to hear the truth that they desperately need to hear. “His legacy was abusing his power and blaming anything that went wrong on someone else.”
Lunging into his arms, Amanda nods her head rapidly, simply needing Sebastian to keep her sane now, any more words will simply fall out of her head. Understanding the urgency, he tightens his grip around her, both of their heart rates slowing in the embrace. Shifting onto the bed and piling blankets around them, the couple find peaceful sleep after a week that left them battered beyond what they feared was repairable and though the healing process is not linear, together they will heal.