The Sins of a Father

Chapter Thirty-Six

            No matter what Slughorn gave me, the nightmares always came and they were getting more vivid, and more bloody. All I could ever remember from my dreams was blood, lights and the death of just about everyone I knew that had died in my life time! Christmas arrived and I would be going home, to only have the bad dreams continue. The good thing about going home would be George and the rest of my friends.

"Raven, have they stopped?" Slughorn asked as I was making my way to the Great Hall.

"No, they're getting worse but thank you for your help anyway Horace," I smiled weakly then joined Neville at the table.

"Blimey Raven, you look bloody awful," he commented. He wasn't wrong,  the dark circles under my eyes were getting worse, my skin started to look more like my father's - sallow.        

"Thank you Neville, I had no idea," I replied sarcastically.

"You know you look just like your father, the only difference is that I'm not scared of you like I was him, you have the same glare as him." I looked down at my empty plate. Remembering my father was difficult because of how responsible I felt for his death.

"Thanks, so are you going to your gran's for the holidays?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Sort of, I'm going to visit my gran but then I'm traveling to Luna's house to stay with her and her dad," his cheeks turned scarlet, I smirked as one of my eyebrows lifted.

"Oh really? You have to tell me how that goes, alright?"

"Okay, hey I've got to get to the greenhouse and check up on things before I leave - Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Neville." He got up and scurried out of the Great Hall.

"Good Heavens Raven, are you quite well?" Headmistress McGonagall asked as I rubbed my tired eyes.

"I'm alright, Professor, just ready to get back home, that's all," I partly lied. She smiled crookedly at me, then removed herself from the table, I mimicked her actions shortly after to get a head start on packing. 

       All my casual clothing resided at Grimmauld Place, the only thing that I owned at Hogwarts was teaching robes, pajamas  and one pair of shoes. So packing hadn't been an issue, all I needed to bring were a couple of books, my father's diary, my own diary, that I started to write in, inspired by my father's diary. My wand and a few papers that needed grading but I would do that on the train as a pastime.  

     Finally the train had warned the students who were leaving that the time to get on the train was now. I jumped on with my luggage took one long hard look at the old glorious castle and then shut my door, sat in the teacher's compartment which held Horace, Neville and Professor Sprout. All six eyes were trained on me when I slid inside, once the door shut the eyes went back to their previous activity. I sat myself across Neville and gazed outside, my fingers pinched the bridge of my nose, attempting to  wake myself up a little more.

"You could sleep you know, it's a long train ride," Neville pointed out but I shook my head.

"I can't, I need to grade these papers so I don't have to do it when I get back home," I told him as my fingers fumbled through the trunk that had some essay's written by some seventh year students. Instead of a bottle of ink and a quill I decided to use a pencil, I remember using them in my muggle schools and found them to be handy when traveling and grading. Though the more I read the more tired I got and ever so slowly my eyes drooped and then ultimately closed.

Lights, laughter, red. I couldn't see anything, except the lights and the blood. People dying everywhere, good and bad. I tried to save some but the killing curse would go through me sparing me and hit the person I had been trying to protect. I turned around  and on the ground, lay my father, dying once again. I held his head in my hands, crying, endlessly apologizing but it had no use because he couldn't hear me, let alone see me. I was a ghost to him, he died without anyone really there. It didn't stop there, next I saw Cedric, and Fred, Tonks and my grandparents all dying, saying my name in their dying breath. I couldn't take it. Suddenly a sharp pain entered my hand, I looked at it and the blood of George soaked them. George's body leaned into my own, the sharp pain was a spear that had pierced his heart and gone all the way through. I ripped off the spear and began muttering healing spells but nothing worked. The only thing I could hear was my name, coming from George's lips as he died.