The Healer | Part 3: The Survivors

Burning Fog

George

I finally finished my letter to Edith the evening before Charlie and I set out for England. I had agonized over it for the last ten days, but felt proud of myself that I had actually been able to finish it.

The following morning, Charlie and I made sure we had everything we needed. In my case, I made sure I had everything that belonged to me. I kept the diamond ring in my trouser pocket, I really didn't want to lose it. I likely wouldn't be returning to Romania, at least not for a while, and only time would tell if that was a good thing.

It would take the whole day flying straight through to get back to Mum and Dad's. I hardly remembered the trip to Romania, I had been in such a fog for weeks following Fred's death and funeral. Months even. I don't remember much of that time.

The sun was only just starting to rise as we kicked off and we flew until mid-afternoon, pausing only to make sure we were traveling in the right direction, when we stopped in southern Germany to eat before carrying on.

I was trying hard not to think too much when we kicked back off. We weren't planning on stopping again until we got to Mum and Dad's. I was pretty sure Charlie hadn't had a chance to tell anyone I was coming with him and I certainly hadn't told anyone. I was dreading the reception I'd receive. I knew it would be overwhelming, but the whole family would be home and I'd be able to get it all over with at once.

I knew I was bound to be bombarded with all sorts of memories of Fred the moment we were back in England. I had been trying to prepare myself, but I had no idea how. The prospect was almost enough to convince me to stay in Romania.

It was time.

I kept repeating Edith's words from years ago to myself. I couldn't hide forever. I had to face everything eventually, otherwise I was just a coward. Edith must have felt a similar way when she'd returned to the lake after nearly dying there. I couldn't even claim I had it worse than she had, I knew she'd struggled with the trauma of it all for months.

Once my family was pacified, I was going straight to the old flat with the sole purpose of retrieving my notebook and finding out exactly where Edith was. I prayed she hadn't binned the notebook and that someone had explained to her what had happened with mine. I had tried to get Mum to send it to me, but she claimed she couldn't find it and had sent me a completely different one instead. From then on, I'd been trying to come up with a way to merge all the notebooks into one instead of having multiple ones for different conversations.

I wished she knew I was coming. That way, she could be somewhere waiting for me and I could see her first before everyone else. I knew it would be easier facing everything else if she was with me. I wanted to see her so badly.

After what seemed like forever, and not long at all at the same time, we touched down in Mum and Dad's front garden.

I felt sick the moment we landed. Even though it was dark, I could see the window of mine and Fred's old bedroom from where I stood. We had broken it more times than I could count, either by poor aim from the outside or an uncontrolled reaction on the inside.

The broom shed was unchanged, it used to be bursting with old broomsticks. I could see the clearing where we all used to play Quidditch. We had spent so many hours practicing. We didn't have any Quidditch balls ourselves, but grapefruits and apples were good enough for practice.

I could feel him here somehow. Like a suffocating presence. I knew it was going to hurt being back, and I already felt like I could hardly breathe.

He really was gone. We were finished Beating practice, singeing each other's eyebrows off and blowing out our bedroom window. From now on, it was only me. I wasn't sure where my place in the family was now, or if I even belonged there anymore.