Dearly Beloved Solo

In the west tower, little footsteps echoed, overlapping, as a young Gryffindor raced up the stairs. Excitement ran through her as she performed her weekly check for mail. Of course, it had only been a few weeks since school started, but that didn't stop the young girl's family from reaching out constantly. And so did she. Lucille wrote to her family almost religiously, keeping a record of almost every day at Hogwarts, her letters filled with stories of Fred and Rosaline and the common room and flying, everything that made her excited about Hogwarts. And her family wrote back.

Lucille knew not everyone had the privilege of being so close to their loved ones. She treasured it, from the letters from her parents to Ollie and Gen's. Her parents were the most frequent, missing their youngest more than anything now that the estate felt emptier without her. Then came Ollie, reaching out to his little sister and checking up on her as much as he could. Last came Gen. Gen believed Lucille could handle herself, and often was a bit too busy to talk to her beloved sister. As the eldest, the weight of expectations landed squarely on Gen's shoulders, and she was probably the only one of them who could handle it. It was a special treat when Gen wrote her a letter, although that happened about once every two weeks. Lately, though, Gen had been working obsessively and even that meager number had dwindled.

But that didn't prevent the little Gryffindor from excitedly checking the owlery every weekend. And, sure enough, there was a letter for her. Enthusiastically, she almost ripped open the envelope, already feeling the tug of missing her family. And, sure enough, there was a letter from her parents. Lucille frowned; it was short, much shorter than she expected. Her parents would often write lengthy letters full of tales of the animals, or talk of their neighbors or relatives. But, this time, it was just a small paragraph.

Dearest Lucille,
There was an accident. Genevieve has passed away. We had the funeral on the 15th. We didn't want to disturb your studies. We love you. You can come home if you need to. We'll work something out.

And that was it. At the end, in neat handwriting, was Mom, Dad, and Oliver. Not even Ollie. Just Oliver.

Lucille heard the crinkling sound before she realized what happened. She had clutched the parchment so tight it had crumpled in her hands. That was all she could think about. She stared at the black ink and the brown parchment. Everything seemed to blur together. None of it felt real. Lucille read the passage again. And again. And again, trying to make sense of the words.

Genevieve has passed away. She's dead. Why won't they just say she's dead? Because she's not. She can't be. The girl's thoughts raced, but she was at a standstill. Her sister was dead, and her mind repeated it to her, over and over, but she couldn't process it. It was as if she was learning English for the first time, trying to interpret the words.

passed away. Passed. Away. Passed. She's dead.

Her legs gave out. She landed on the floor with a loud thud, startling some of the owls, and an aching pain shot up her knee. But she didn't notice. She kept staring emptily at the parchment, all the words blurring together until, finally, the moment came when everything snapped into place.

Genevieve was dead. Her Gen. The same Gen that stayed up late with her when her homework was too difficult. The same Gen that took her out on rides and steadied her when her mare stumbled. The same Gen that wrote to her, once every two weeks, for a year, taking time from her busy day to tell her little sister of her life, and to ask about Hogwarts, and give her the kindest advice.

It was hitting her now. No longer would Genevieve write to her. Her dwindling letters were to dwindle to zero. She would never again see the elegant, neat way Genevieve wrote, as if she was writing a report. Because that's what it was. Reports of their lives to each other, never missing a day. She recalled the nights she would stay up reading Genevieve's lengthy letters. What she lacked in promptness, she made up for in length. She never missed a detail for her little sister, and her letters were filled with questions of Lucille's time at Hogwarts.

She tried to let out a cry but her throat was dry. It came out as a whimper as she curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. In one hand, the page that had changed her life lay innocent, but gripped so hard she swore she felt it rip. She wasn't feeling much of anything right now, just. Grief.

Lucille knew grief. She had felt it countless times when animals at the estate had passed away. She had told herself that it was the circle of life. But this was different. This was a grief that burrowed into her bones, making her cold all over. This was a grief that sucked on her skin like a leech, draining the color from her body. This was a grief she had never felt before.

The girl's vision grew blurry as the tears that had threatened to spill long ago finally made their entrance. No no no. Not Gen. Not Gen. Lucille felt as if her heart would rip out of her chest. She buried her head in her hands, letting the tears spill down her cheeks, not caring enough, or perhaps processing enough to wipe them. The owls hooted in the owlery, but the girl heard nothing but her own heartbeat. It had increased to a rapid speed, going faster, faster, faster, like her excited footsteps that morning.

Once again, she tried to scream, but nothing came out. She slammed her fists on the floor, trying to drown out the sound of her heartbeat. Nothing changed. Gen was still dead. Her heart was still beating faster than she could keep up. Nothing mattered. Gen was dead.

Gen had raised her. She had been there through everything. She had been 11 years older than Lucille, and now Lucille would grow older but Gen wouldn't. She tried to collapse backward, and hit her head on the wall. Hard. But it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Lucille finally opened her eyes, head throbbing, heart racing. She stared at the ceiling, trying to count any cracks she might see, but her vision was too blurry to notice anything.

It didn't matter. No matter what she did, her mind wouldn't stop, and her nausea wouldn't fade. Lucille felt like she would throw up, if only she could understand what was going on. Gen's death didn't feel real. If it was reel, she would be there. At the funeral. At home. With her family. But she couldn't go back now. Their family wasn't whole anymore. Not without Gen.

She imagined the funeral, ignoring the fresh onslaught of tears that came with it. But Lucille couldn't think of what her family would say. Nor could she imagine what would be said when Gen was laid in the ground, never to come up again. All she could think of was Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of- a wedding. The opposite of a funeral. We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Genevieve Rosenhart. It sounded fake, unreal. A wedding made more sense than this did. She imagined Gen marrying someone, someone they would all love. That would be her big surprise, not this. This shock that she couldn't make sense of. She imagined Gen announcing a promotion. Or moving back in with them. This was news she could believe but her death? She couldn't accept it.

But she had to. The tears spilled again as she thought of the life Gen would never lead. A life without her. Lucille was living, ready to send a report to Gen any day now, but Gen was gone. And she would never be back.

Lucille shot up straight. Gen wasn't coming back. Her crying and imagining wasn't going to bring her back. Slowly, she forced open her own hand, letting the crumpled parchment fall to the floor. It didn't matter. None of it did. She stood up and, in one angry gesture, stomped down on the paper that had changed her life. It didn't matter. It wasn't like Gen was here. All that bullshit about being there in spirit. It didn't matter. Life would continue, as it always did. Whether or not Gen was here.

Gen wasn't here because of her own decisions. Nobody had told her to take that job as a Curse-Breaker. She knew the dangers, and she had chosen to leave Lucille anyway, to pursue that fucking job that had ended her. Lucille didn't know what had happened, but she assumed it was the cause anyway. Her parents wouldn't tell her, because no one believed she was old enough to handle anything. And maybe they were right. Her reaction to Gen's death proved it, but she couldn't help it. She was angry and hurt, but the anger dissipated as quickly as it came. It just didn't make sense, but it was there in a corner of her mind, ready to emerge should Lucille give it a chance.

Right now, all she had to do was leave the owlery. She would go to her dorm, do her homework, and then have lunch. That's all she needed to do. One foot in front of the other. Gen wasn't here. She never had been. Nothing should change. It didn't matter. Why would it matter? The only thing that was changing in her Hogwarts life was that she wouldn't be getting a letter every once in a while. Well that's just less time dedicated reading and writing and more time to work on her studies.

Lucille clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to think about Gen's death. If she did, the whirlwind of emotions she'd just suppressed would come falling out, but she wouldn't let it happen. It had no place in Hogwarts. Just like Gen. It wasn't like Gen had been here since the beginning. She hadn't, and Lucille would continue to live life the way she always did. She just wouldn't think about this, and she would not go home. Maybe she could ask one of her friends if she could stay with them for the winter. Away from home. Away from memories of Gen at every corner. All she had to do was avoid any reminders of her, and she would be okay.

Lucille bent down and picked up the mangled parchment. It was crumpled and bore an imprint of her shoe, and she dusted it off, before shoving it in her pocket, not opening it and definitely not looking at those fateful words again. One foot in front of the other, Lu. You just have to leave. She walked awkwardly, legs shaking, feet stomping, in a strange mix of shock and anger. Her pace was slow and struggled, and she tried to think of what she would have for lunch, pushing all thoughts of Gen out of her mind. It didn't matter. Gen wasn't exactly here to be hurt by her reaction. Lucille was alone. All alone. And it was high time she accepted it.

Clenching her jaw, she raised her head, looking at all the owls around her as if challenging them. Lucille Rosenhart would be fine. She would walk out confidently, and she would not let people know what happened to her, or her sister. In fact, she wouldn't think about her sister at all. It was a dangerous game, but Lucille was ready. Once she exited the owlery, she would not think about this moment again. She would be in Hogwarts, where none of her family was, and she would be alright. No matter what.

The girl cleared her throat, straightened, and pushed her shoulders back, lifting her chin up. She would be fine. With that, Lucille strode out of the owlery, as if this moment had never happened. As if her sister was still alive. As if she hadn't just been collapsed on the floor crying her eyes out. Everything would be fine. She just had to keep her thoughts in line, and stay focused.