The Missing Marauder: A Harry Potter FanFiction

Chapter 10

A few weeks later, Rowan eagerly awaited the arrival of a response from her mother. She knew in her heart she should've already received one, and it couldn't take that long to write back.  

The morning of February 14th, Rowan knew. She just knew it had to be the day she would get a letter. She had a strong feeling that on that Saturday morning, at the breakfast feast, she would find something in her barn owl's claws.  

She left the common room early.  

Sirius, however, was willing to wait until after the mail arrived to get breakfast. He wasn't one for all the owls swooping in and dropping things into people's hands or, if they had bad aim, food. He had figured out when the mail came everyday, and left for the Great Hall just as it should've arrived.  

Finding her sitting in the usual spot, he sat beside her and asked, "You finally got a response?"  

"No," she whispered, something in her tone of voice he'd never heard before, and it didn't sound good.  

She stared at a paper with a few short lines of long, curvy handwriting with a horrified expression.  

"Then, who is that from?" he questioned, afraid of the answer.  

"I...I don't know..."  

Before he could ask if he could see it, she threw it onto the table and said, "I can't read it."  

"Why not?"  

"Because I'm afraid I know what it'll say."  

He snatched the paper up and stared at the words.  

Ms. Mulciber-  

You didn't expect this did you? Your mother won't be writing back to you anymore. And do you know why?  

I expect you'll find out in three...  

Two...  

One.

Just as he read the final word, a loud, rough voice called out, "Rowan Mulciber, would you please come up here?" Dumbledore stood at the other end of the room, wearing a worried expression as if he had something to say that he didn't want to reveal.  

Sirius suddenly realized that the substitute D.A.D.A. teacher, Professor What's-his-face, wasn't sitting at the High Table with the other professors. There was a different person there, a woman with a long scar down the side of her face.  

What was going on?  

Rowan quickly scrambled out of her seat and rushed to Dumbledore's side. He said something with a sad smile, and then put a hand on her shoulder, leading her to a door in the corner, where there was a small room that no students were allowed to go in without a professor.  

McGonagall stood up, and so did Slughorn, and Flitwick, and eventually all of the professors at the table had left their seats to go to the small back room as well, leaving a young Rubeus Hagrid to watch over the many students.  

"Rowan," Dumbledore said, "I would not wish to bear this burden upon anyone, but something has happened." He glanced over at McGonagall, and added, "Something very terrible."  

"What?" Rowan asked quietly, terrified of what they would say.  

All the professors stared around at each other before McGonagall explained, "You, surely, have seen many stories of Muggles and Muggle-borns being killed suspiciously. In the Daily Prophet, I mean. Am I wrong?"  

"No," Rowan replied, "I've heard the stories."  

"Well," Slughorn continued, "The Ministry of Magic has been trying to keep this hidden from the magical world, but...well, we know who is responsible for this."  

"He calls himself Lord Voldemort, Rowan," Dumbledore concluded, "And yesterday evening, he sent some of his followers to your home in London."  

Rowan felt icy cold inside.  

"I'm sorry, dear," McGonagall muttered, "I'm so sorry."  

"At approximately 8:37 p.m., a man and a woman, masked and cloaked, entered your household with the intention of fulfilling their master's request," Dumbledore said.  

"Please stop," Rowan said, "I don't want to hear."  

"Your mother was attending to your young brother, when she heard the door being broken in," Dumbledore continued, ignoring her.  

"Please," Rowan repeated, "Please, please stop, I don't want to hear this."  

"She left the five year-old in his bedroom waiting to hear a bedtime story to find her door smashed to pieces," he explained, a little louder.  

"Professor-" Rowan began, only to be interrupted.  

"She searched the house but found no one there, and then returned to your brother's bedroom to make sure he was alright," Dumbledore said as if he were reading lines he'd had to rehearse, speaking loudly and clearly, "But found him in his bed, his eyes wide open, unblinking, and two people leaning over him."  

"Oh, God," Rowan begged, "Please stop!"  

"Your mother screamed," he continued, "They saw her. Neighbors claim to have heard the scream and seen a flash of green light almost immediately afterward."  

"STOP IT!" she screamed, "PLEASE, JUST STOP IT!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks and McGonagall moved closer to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, using her other hand to squeeze her arm comfortingly.  

"The two cloaked figures escaped without a trace," Dumbledore said, suddenly quiet, "They Apparated out of your house after they were positive that both your brother and your mother were dead."  

When Rowan said nothing, was too silent for anybody to feel comfortable, he added, "The only reason we know this much is because of a strange device that caught noises coming from around the house, which was placed in the hallway between your room and your brother's. I believe it was called a baby monitor..."  

"No..." Rowan whispered expressionlessly, her eyes closed. Suddenly, her face seemed to contort in such anguish that Dumbledore had to look away, and she screamed with a voice filled with so much despair that McGonagall whimpered slightly, "NO!"  

A long time passed, and when they couldn't calm her down, McGonagall, her face wet with tears, called Sirius into the room, where he learned of what had happened and attempted to comfort her. That afternoon, she left on a train back to London with a Ministry of Magic wizard to attend her family's funeral.