Warm light that peeked out of the clouds faded out into the air around Hogwarts, leaving the faint kiss of summer on the Autumn castle's cheeks. The Courtyard was barren, spare a couple students playing Gobstones and the second year Jrue Peterson leaning her arms on an old cobbled stone railing.
Her gaze was transfixed on the folded white letter in her hands. Dinner had just finished, and a lonely owl had met her to deliver this little note. Perhaps her mother had had her baby, or her father was sending her the bookmark she left before returning to school. It was her favorite bookmark, with a golden tassel dangling from the bottom, the paper a pale dirty blue. It was bent, and a little faded. But it made the girl love it even more. She'd read countless books with it, studied for numerous exams and marked pages in her textbooks by cramming it in before wandering off to class.
How she loved the bookmark. Jrue tapped the toe of her Mary Janes on the brick beneath her, slipping her fingernails under the paper to rip it open. It smelled like home she thought, despite the fact the smell was a figment of her imagination.
The letter unfurled itself once out of the envelope, and her brows knit together, eyeing the words.
Jrue.
I don't know quite how to tell you this. There was a fire at the Hospital on Tuesday. Your father was in surgery with a patient- he didn't know until it was too late.
There isn't a kinder way to say it. I won't pretend there it. He's gone. The Muggle fire rescue said it was fast. I'm sorry you're hearing it from a letter. You'll be angry with me. But I rather you be angry than not knowing at all. I'd rather you be angry than acting like it's fine.
I'm due next week. Your father was supposed to come with me to Hospital. I'll be going to London by the time you receive this owl, to join my Mother.
Come home when you can, preferably after the birth. I won't fight you on it if you don't want to.
I love you.
Mum
Nothing made sense. Her eyes scanned over the paper again, reading the second line of the letter. Perhaps she read wrong. Perhaps her father was on vacation. He was gone- yes. She folded the letter into her robe pocket, pulling her pale tan sweater down over her waist and blinking out at the grassy area past the courtyard. No, no. Her mother never was incorrect. She always spoke and wrote with clarity and precision.
She meant it. He was gone. And her mom had moved on so fast. Talking about the baby, as if she had heard about this weeks ago and Jrue was just now getting the memo. The baby? What about her damn father? Her chest was tensing up, starting to ache as she turned around to face the castle. Cupping her face with her sleeves she could only thing of one thing.
What had she even said to him last? What was the last thing they did together? He walked her to the train station, right? Platform 9 3/4? Had she even given him a hug? She was far too busy making sure Skippy was on her cart and her suitcases weren't rattling away. It was official, the Hufflepuff was the worst daughter on the world. She couldn't leave the castle- there were far too many test she had to take, spells to learn and plants to care for. Her knees buckled, causing her weight to shift back as she threw her arms back onto the railing.
The girl knew she should be crying. Screaming out her father's name, and hugging her mother, cradling herself on her mum's lap with her hands over her eyes, swollen and squeezed shut like her life depended on it. She needed just a moment to herself, to sit and breath out everything that hurt her without making it everyone else's problem.
She'd see her mother soon. Jrue'd be able to hold her new sibling, consoling the new child who knew nothing of how cruel the world was. A fire- a fire-. Something so stupid. Wizards could've dealt with it in minutes, casting a simple spell. But her Muggle father- so innocent to the world. He knew all about it- Did he wish in his final minutes that he'd've been able to reverse it? To cause the flames to disappear?
She'd never know. She'd never be able to ask. The girl would never be able to share a biscuit with him, nor be able to sit on the fence and watch the sunrise together.
The grief was all consuming, and she'd only just found out.
