Secrets of Me | s. black

↣ | Secret Thirty-one

tw - death & violence

s e c r e t 
t h i r t y - o n e

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, heart hammering in my chest like the wings of a hummingbird. The houses came and went in a blur as I sprinted through Godric's Hollow, my lungs an aching mess from the cold October air.

I came to an abrupt stop when I saw it. A small, cozy house filled with happy memories. But the house didn't look happy anymore. The door was wide open, half off it's hinges. In front of it lay a body. A body with wild hair and round glasses, hazel eyes staring up blankly at the darkening sky.

"James," I breathed, and began to run again. I dropped to the ground when I reached him and stared at his empty eyes. "No," I choked out. I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head, not understanding why death kept taking over my life. Over and over and over. It was never going to end.

I remembered suddenly that if James was dead, then Lily would've been the next defense. I jumped to my feet in a moment of complete and utter horror unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and raced into the house.

Furniture was upturned, pictures from the fireplace shattered. Harry's broomstick was laying at the foot of the stairs, broken in half. A trail of damage slithered up the stairs and I took them two at a time. My heartbeat was pounding too hardly in my chest, the sound reverberating through my skull. My arms and legs were shaking, my blood screaming that this couldn't be happening, that my best friend was surely still alive.

I reached the upstairs hallway and careened around the corner, knocking the last picture frame off the wall as I rushed toward the nursery.

When I saw her body I let out a cry and scrambled to the floor beside her. Her red hair was splayed across the carpet, green eyes staring up at the ceiling, her hands clutched onto a pile of cotton blankets. I reached out and ran my sleeve down her face, closing her eyes so I couldn't see the emptiness, so it looked as if she were only sleeping.

"Lily," I choked out, finally letting the tears escape after months of torture, of horror, of heartbreak. They dropped down onto her face as I hunched over her, crying. "Lily, you can't leave me," I gasped between sobs. "I can't live without you. Without Marlene or Mr Prewett or — or my parents or my brothers. I can't keep doing this."

I lay crumpled by her body for what seemed like hours until I heard a soft sniffle. I opened my eyes to look at her again, and realized that the bundle of blankets held tightly in her hands was moving.

"Harry," I said, hope flaring in my chest. He was alive. I reached out and gingerly picked up the bundle, cradling it in my arms. I peeled aside the blankets and Harry's face peeked out, hazel eyes landing on me. A smile broke out across his face and it made my heart flutter with a burst of such love amidst the cloud of death that I let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, Harry," I mumbled, hugging him tightly to me, hating how much this world had already taken from him.

I swallowed down my pain and stood up to leave the room, not looking back. I couldn't look back. Not without falling apart forever, not without shattering to pieces when I needed to be strong for Harry. When I needed to be strong for Lily and James and everyone else that had died fighting this war.

As I made my way through the living room, I caught sight of one picture still intact on the fireplace mantle. A picture of the marauders, mouths twisted up into happy smiles, hair wild, eyes sparkling with laughter. It was such a beautiful picture of love and family that I set Harry down gently on the floor and reached into my pocket. I pulled out my journal and placed my hand on the first twenty or so entries.

You're the strongest person I've ever met.

I was done. I was letting go of my past, letting go of the pain the Death Eaters had created in my life. It was time that I was strong, that I was brave, like Sirius had told me I was. It was time that I started a new journal of memories—memories of hope and laughter and truth.

And so I ripped the pages out of my notebook, opened the picture frame, and tucked the parchment inside using an extendable charm. I would bury my pain beneath happiness. I would smother it with love and family. I would get rid of it forever and replace it with good.

For Harry. For James and Lily, for Mr Prewett and the twins. For Marlene. For my parents.

Backing away to retrieve Harry, I gave one last look at the happy faces of the marauders.

"For family," I whispered, picturing the faces of everyone I had lost.

I left without looking back, appearing at the Order Headquarters clutching little Harry in my arms. I pushed the doors open and entered the meeting room with the big round table and gilded chairs and shiny chandelier.

Memories cartwheeled through the air. They pirouetted on tiptoes across the beams of light, twirled and leaped from the room and into my heart.

Everyone gathered around the room abruptly grew silent, eyes wide as they stared at me. Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, face one of surprise. McGonagall was next to him, as was Moody in the corner with crossed arms.

Hands grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, securing me so I couldn't move. I twisted and turned, trying to loosen the grips, trying to get the lingering remnants of the feeling of those ropes to go back to the past. The arms wrenched Harry from me and I felt my stomach flutter in desperation, wanting to keep him close, safe, protected. The only family I had left.

"Get off me!" I yelled, and that same burst of magic that freed me from those ropes at the manor shot my captors to either side of the room. I didn't spare them any glances, and rushed forward as Harry fell through the air, scooping him up before he hit the floor and cradling him tightly to my chest.

"Brielle," Dumbledore said. "You're alive."

Standing in the middle of all those eyes holding Harry to my chest, I stared back at him. "Yes," I said. I'm always the one left alive, I thought silently to myself. I'm always the one left to grieve alone.

You're the strongest person I've ever met.

"We thought you were dead," said a broken voice to my left. One of my captors.

I glanced over to see Remus Lupin staring back at me, eyes wary. "Yes," I said again. "And yet here I am while everyone else I love is dead."

The tension in the room was so thick you could've reached out and scooped it up.

"James and Lily?" Remus breathed out, probably already knowing the answer but needing the words to confirm it.

I shook my head, clutching Harry tighter to my chest as he began to squirm.

"They're dead?" said Dumbledore, eyes wide. "Then that must mean Voldemort failed. Harry Potter is alive."

Remus choked out a sob and lowered himself to the floor, leaning his back against the wall. He covered his face with shaking hands, and I deeply wanted to sit down and cry with him.

But I couldn't.

"The war is over," muttered McGonagall to herself, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

And I couldn't either. The war was over, Voldemort was finished, but how much pain had been caused? How many people were gone forever?

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❀ Bryla Love ❀