Veela .|. H. J. POTTER

5: she was dead

┏━━━━━━❂━━━━━━┓

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝

the funeral and departure

┗━━━━━━❂━━━━━━┛

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

The very last day Veela had been dreading had finally arrived.

One big suitcase rested on the soft duvet of the bed she had called hers in the time she could remember.

Everything in the suitcase was foreign even though they said it was hers. Veela was too scared to take a thorough look for now - scared to find things she didn't want to know or to remember things she had always wanted to forget.

She still hadn't found the reason for why she so furiously dragged Harry into that classroom near the library.

And why Harry almost refused to tear his eyes away from her when she seemed to search for a connection to the familiarity of that classroom. 

It was all rather odd but Veela couldn't put her finger on the exact cause. Was it something she did in the past? Something Harry did? Maybe something happened in there neither of them could have prevented. But surely Harry would have told her.

Or maybe simply nothing happened at all and Veela was overthinking things. A gut feeling told her she did that a lot.

The frustration of not remembering what she was like - what her core traits and values were - gnawed on her mind.

Madam Pomfrey appeared sad to let her go after the long days and nights she spent in the hospital wing with the nurse taking care of her. Madam Pomfrey had been fussing a lot more about the slight headache Veela had and about how she moved slower than usual. And when four other adults walked through the large doors of the hospital wing, she had urged them not to be too loud so Veela would not suffer from the noise. 

"Miss Willowbloom," Professor McGonagall spoke, drawing Veela's attention from her lied shoelaces to the four people standing by the foot of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

Veela's eyes travelled over the redheaded couple - Mr and Mrs Weasley, they must be - and the man with the scars over his face who had introduced himself as Lupin, the first to have spoken to her and given her patience.

"Fine," Veela said, her voice soft and strained. 

"Do you deem yourself fit enough to attend the funeral?" Professor McGonagall's eyes softened, glancing at Madam Pomfrey for a moment. "Professor Dumbledore would have liked you to be there."

That meant nothing to Veela. She had no idea who Professor Dumbledore was or what he has done. She couldn't even remember her face.

"Yeah, I think I can come," Veela nodded, reassuring her statement with a smile, though it did not reach her once lively eyes. "Who - er - who was Professor Dumbledore exactly?"

Professor McGonagall gulped; Mrs Weasley's hand tightened on her husband's forearm. 

It was Lupin who decided to answer. "He was the headmaster of this school. A great wizard." There was some strain on his voice but Veela couldn't exactly deduct if it was because Lupin was hurt that they lost this Professor Dumbledore, or that he regarded the words he spoke were untrue. Some bitterness was definitely left in a place where once was admiration.

"What was he to me?" Veela pressed further. Her fingers clenched around the sheets of her bed. "Did I know him well?"

None of the four knew what to answer for a moment as Veela expectantly waited for an explanation. Madam Pomfrey shuffled on her feet a little further, busying herself with making the beds on the opposite side of the room.