= Wands High =

Chapter 45 - 22 May 1998, Friday

Orianna left the kitchen and walked through the corridor leading to the back of the cabin where the staircase was. There was a slightly ajar window right before the stairs and the whiff of fresh mountain air made her stop there for a moment. Orianna opened it a bit wider and leaned on the frame taking a deep breath. The night was indeed chilly, and yet too beautiful to just go to bed immediately, she thought. Though she loved being around her friends, a quiet moment here and there was always useful.

She heard no steps, nor any other sign indicating anyone's presence. And yet, at some point someone's quiet whistling snuck among her lazy thoughts and drew her attention away from the brilliant starry sky. Orianna leaned over the window frame and took a careful look around the back porch searching for the source of the melody. She noticed the silhouette sitting less than two meters to her right almost at the same moment as his quiet voice reached her:

- No need to try and sneak away, I felt you there. It's fine.

- Sorry, man, didn't mean to bother you – the girl responded feeling a little uneasy about the unusual fatigue in the familiar voice.

- Sorry for leaving like that – Chris looked at her over his left shoulder. He was sitting on the porch, one foot bent near his chest, his left elbow resting on it, playing with a tiny object looking like a stone. – I felt dizzy all of a sudden.

– You okay? That stuff was indeed a slow death...

- No, no, the drink itself was more than fine – Chris waved his hand, looking away. – Or... would've been, probably... Ah, shit, pointless to pretend I guess. Truth is I recognized the taste immediately. I've had this particular brand of whiskey only once in my life and it's not a good memory. I'll probably have that damn taste burning in my throat for the rest of my life everytime I think of it.

- If you feel like sharing... – Orianna mustered some leftover energy and jumped over the window frame trying not to make too much noise when her boots landed on the wooden porch. She went to the boy and sat by him wrapping her arms around her knees, just a few centimeters back, to give him a little space. – You know I won't pester you, but...

- No, it's fine, I've made my peace with it. It's just still fucking hard to re-live it – Chris ran his fingers through his spiky hair. – I was 14. It was at my dad's wake. I snuck out of the room for a while when no one was watching and hid in the food closet of all places, no idea why. There was a bottle of the exact same whiskey there – both my dad and granddad loved it and I thought what the hell. I'd started drinking beer something like a year before that so I was still super inexperienced with alcohol. Dunno how long I sat there sipping tiny sips, coughing my lungs out, listening to the sounds outside and trying to process the idea that dad would never open his eyes again... and I never even saw him close them for the last time. Finally, Ender came in, just as quietly and sat there with me asking if he could have some too. Guess it was something like half an hour before Griff found us, but it still felt like a freaking eternity. He was late because he had something that week, some extracurricular stuff that he was away from home for and had to clear with his mentor. When he found us, we were already hammered – and yet we got out of the closet and somehow managed to keep our freaking composure so well that I still can't believe it. I mean, for a bunch of drunken kids who'd just lost their dad. Of course, it came with certain consequences I'm not going to give details on – Chris smiled bitterly for a moment.

– Next night I was still fucking hung over and feeling like an Erumpent had ran over my head when I noticed from my bedroom window Griff out in the yard, sitting alone in the dark, having a glass of that same whiskey – the bottle was there next to him. Never told him I knew about it, because it was the last time I saw him crying – Chris shook his head and threw the stone he'd been twiddling between his fingers in the bushes near the cabin. – I mean, me and Ender, we could still afford to be grief-stricken kids, at least for a time. But not him. He was the man of the family now. Though no one ever told him that, nor to man up, nor that he had to look after us – Griffin never gave anyone a chance to even think that he wouldn't take his responsibilities seriously. One day, just a few weeks after that, he came home, put his bass away, then entered the kitchen and told everyone that he had applied for the Auror Training Program. Mum was so surprised that the only thing she could say was "What about school?" Griff said he had already acquired the Principal's permission to take last two years as one intense course. His decision was final, he said and asked everyone not to try and talk him out of it. Mum couldn't say anything, you know... She just stood there looking at him as if she wanted to ground him for the rest of the year... but she said nothing. Neither did Gramps. But he was looking at Griff differently... with pride I think. He'd seen worse in his youth, and yet I think the sight of his eldest grandson ready to take the world on like that in his 20s, just few weeks after Gramps lost his only son, got to him... And he never finished that damn bottle of whiskey either. It's probably still in the closet.