Goodbye? pv Ana Beckett Closed

October 17, early morning

The letter trembled in her hand, parchment shaking as Jess ran up the steps of the owlery. Her hand, held stiffly at her side, had an iron grip on the short piece of parchment, made tiny and worn by the dozens of times it had been folded on itself and opened up again. The length of the parchment was remarkably short, but it would do. Jess's message was short, too.

[font=Tempus Sans ITC]Mama, Papa,
I want to go home.[/font]

She had tried writing more to her parents, she really had, but she couldn't make herself do it. Couldn't force herself to remember the beastly doll attacking a student at the Costume Party, or the firing and backfiring of many spells, or the clang of the doors as they shut, trapping them all in the room, or the burst of flame that had made its way dangerously close to all the children gathered in the room. Couldn't bear to admit to her parents that she hadn't been the one to put out the flames. That she had stood there, staring, unable to do anything. That she had been asked to cast the extinguishing spell, and she just couldn't do it. That she had failed.

She hadn't just failed to put out the flames, no. She had failed to even think of a single spell that would help the situation. She had failed to help anyone getting hurt in the room. She had failed to stay in the room afterwards, when the threat had already gone, to make sure everyone was okay. She had failed to do what mattered most- to help others. She had known it then, running as fast as her feet could take her away from the room, and she knew it now- she was useless. She couldn't help anyone- she couldn't even bring herself to try. She couldn't remember any spells. Or cast them. She couldn't be a witch. She didn't belong at Hogwarts.

The right thing to do had been simple, then, once she had reminded herself time and time again that she didn't belong at the magical school. Laying in bed that night, unable to fall asleep for the flashes of nightmarish scenes from the party that played against her eyelids whenever she closed them, she had told herself what she had to do. She would find some parchment, get a quill, and write to her parents to tell them all that had happened. She would tell them she needed to go home. To be a Muggle again, like she was meant to be.

Once the decision had been made, there was no going back. At least, that was what Jess had told herself. She had stumbled through the dark dormitory until she felt her hand close on a piece of parchment and a quill, then, before she had had time to think better of it, had picked up her wand to cast Lumos so she could see what she was writing. Her mouth had been open to cast the spell before she had even realized what she was doing, but once she did, she had stopped, her heart sinking even lower. Would she even be able to cast this, the simplest of spells? If she could, then maybe she didn't have to go home. She didn't have to send this letter. But, riddled with doubt as her mind was, all that had come from the incantation and wand movement was a dull kind of sputtering from the wand tip, before it had seemed to give a defeated, muted, shriek, and die out. Jess had stared down at it for a second, tears blurring her vision, then flung it onto the bed with a sort of heartbroken, betrayed finality.

She had padded across the dormitory to where the light of the moon and the stars illuminated the windowsill, propped her parchment on top of it, then paused with her quill poised above it, ready to write. Try as she might, the words wouldn't come. After another half hour of aimless repositioning, the parchment remained as blank as ever, and the girl had no choice but to try to sleep again, and resume her efforts in the morning. Blissfully, sleep came this time, though the young Hufflepuff woke mere hours later to the shine of the sun on her face and the blank parchment staring accusingly at her. The room, now, in the morning, held no shortage of light, as the day seemed mockingly perfect outside of the grand castle. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the air itself seemed to taunt Jess, telling her she didn't deserve to enjoy it. In the end, she had ended up addressing the letter and writing a single sentence on it. "I want to go home."

Now, the events of the morning and past night played through her head as Jess made her way up and into the owlery. The letter was written, the parchment ready to be sent. All that was left now was to tie it to the leg of an owl, and it would be gone, sent off to her parents to seal her fate. So why, then, was Jess suddenly unable to go on? Unable to cross the room and near one of the owls? She turned abruptly, banging a fist against the owlery wall. She knew she didn't belong there; she knew she had to do this. So why was actually going through with it so damn hard?