The Redhead and the Irish

Chapter 49

As the sun streamed through the small window in my bedroom, I picked up some last books I wanted to bring. Ron was throwing his clothes in a trunk, seeing he hadn't packed the night before. Our room was a complete mess, covered in clothing and cat hairs.

"We're almost leaving!" Ginny yelled from downstairs. Ron cursed under his breath as he threw his schoolbooks in his trunk. "You should've packed last night." I remarked, closing my suitcase. Ron scoffed, throwing a discarded shirt my way. I laughed lightly, going through my drawers one last time.

I probably shouldn't have.

Beneath all the books and quills lay a note accompanied by a yellow fwooper feather.

Everything turned into a blur as I picked up the feather. Cedric's handwriting peeked up at me as all memories floated right back into my mind. The writing was smudged and rushed. I ran my fingers over the small slip of paper, tears streaming down my face. The feather tickled my jaw, the brightness somehow seeming inappropriate.

As I stood there, I didn't notice my older brothers standing in the doorway, ready to help me carry my trunk downstairs. "Rowen?" Fred whispered, clearing the world once again. I looked up, wiping away my tears. "Are you alright?" George questioned, eyeing the yellow feather. I just nodded, not trusting my own voice. Fred took a step towards me, looking at the note. "That's Cedric's handwriting." he said, glancing back at George. I nodded once more, my eyes focused on the sentence.

Fred reached out to take the parchment from me, but I took a step back, flinching at his sudden movement. "Rowen, I'm gonna need you to give me that." Fred tried, slowly reaching out his hand. I shook my head, my fingers twitching. "Rowen..." he whispered. I shook my head once again, clinging onto the parchment. Ron and George looked at me in concern, neither of them moving. "It's all I have left." I muttered, tears making their way down my cheeks. "You can't move on when you're still holding onto him." Fred tried to explain. I shook my head, cradling the note and feather against my chest.

I looked up at my older brother, my eyes burning from all the crying. "Please, Freddie...Don't make me give up this one thing I have..." I cried, staring at the redhead. He nodded slowly, retreating his hand. I let out a single sob, holding the objects close to my heart. Fred placed a hand on my arm. I flinched at the touch, my fingers still twitching. "It's okay...you're okay..." he whispered, pulling me into a hug.

And I cried.

You would think I would have shed enough tears over Cedric. Apparently, my body disagreed. An innocent had lost his life to You-Know-Who and now he was gone forever. Soon enough he would fade into nothing but a memory. He would no longer be Cedric Diggory, but just another boy I knew in school...

"We're waiting for-" Ginny's small voice called out as she opened the door. I peeked over Fred's shoulder, seeing her hold Simba in her arms. She put down the cat, walking towards me. George grabbed her by her wrist, shaking his head. "We need to go..." she stammered, seeing my shattered form. Fred let go of me, looking me in the eye. "Do you think you'll be okay?" he asked. I nodded slowly as I glanced at the note and feather. I wrapped the note around the feather and put them back in my drawer. George picked up my trunk, walking downstairs. Fred followed him, passing Ginny. "Leave it." he whispered as he passed my sister. She followed him out of the room, looking back at me once, before disappearing around the corner.

Ron placed a careful hand on my wrist, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm sorry." he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this pain..." he added, tears gleaming in his eyes. I just nodded. He placed my arm over his shoulder, guiding me towards the stairs. My twin helped me walk down the stairs as my numb body stumbled over the carpet every now and then.

When we got to the kitchen, our family was standing in the living room, holding onto their luggage. My mother took a step towards me, but my dad grabbed her arm, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked, observing my broken body. I leaned on Ron, meekly nodding. Mum just nodded in reply, turning back to the portkey in the middle of the room. Ginny smiled sadly, Simba cradled in her arms.

The broken pot started twitching, signing it was about to leave. My dad started to count down from ten. I placed one hand on the rusty object, the other clinging onto my trunk. The pot was buzzing lightly, signalling its departure within the next three seconds.

An invisible hook clung onto my navel as I was sucked into a vortex of colours and sounds. The pot was still buzzing, but it was fainting with every passing second, which meant we were nearly at our destination.

A few seconds later I fell onto the street, the pot clattering against the pavement. My brothers and sister stood up, brushing off the dirt. I followed their example, seeing my parents stare at the front of a building. It looked like your average terraced house.

"I don't see number twelve." George remarked, looking at the numbers on the old houses. He was right. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, thirteen. But no twelve. Dad pulled out his wand, waving it at the structure.

To our surprise the building started moving, the bricks creaking loudly. The people inside did not seem to notice that their homes were making place for an extra building. The further number eleven and thirteen moved apart, the clearer we could see a house forming between them. The door on the new building indeed read twelve. It looked older than the other houses, the brick more worn and cracked.

"Children." my mother spoke up, her eyes fixed on the building. "Welcome to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."