Mirrored Exile (HS)

twenty eight

chapter twenty eight - movement

(tw: there is violence in this chapter)

Lucy Caddel

By the time the pink, sunset sky has fallen to the dark clouds, Harry and I walk out with a bunch more than what we walked in with. We gathered things that had some sort of significance, or we thought did. We just wanted to leave as soon as possible. I think we both felt unsafe in this area since what happened last time.

I matched his pace as we quickly walked out of the underground room and back up the stairs. Harry leans down to the Falcon's eye and picks out my necklace from the slot. The chain makes a soft tapping noise against the stone brick before he lifts it between his fingers. Our hands are quite full so we just decide to wait till we get back.

Numerous times, we both nearly slipped down the steep hill of sticks, dirt, and rocks. I nearly knocked over Harry at one point, I had to use his shoulder to get myself balanced again. He knew so he stopped and leaned down a bit to help.

"You alright?" He spoke after the silence. It was the type of silence that made you feel closer to someone even though none of you were actually interacting.

"Yeah, thank you," I say.

We finally reached the cabin again, the fire in the fireplace still partly lit for when we came back. It needed another log for fuel on it though, which was the first thing Harry did when we were back inside. Dumping our stuff on the table, he carefully placed a log on. Embers flew up into the chimney as the log fell into place. It puffed and smoked out a bit too. Harry poked it with the metal fire rod until it sat upright so we could feel the warmth.

Reading through these reports made me emotional but I refused to show that in front of Harry. I felt I had to be tougher with him around, it's hard enough to protect me let alone deal with my emotions.

Like always, my Uncle would scribble random poems and words that he found fascinating during his finds. It was one of his quirks that many people at his workplace remembered him for, even if they didn't appreciate him the way they should have. The way I did.

"Did you find something else?" Harry says, standing next to me. The fireplace was right behind his back so it was hard to make out what he was looking at.

"Barely, my Uncle was always so vague in his writing." I exhaled.

"What about this here?" Harry lifts the paper in front of me. He reads it for a second before dropping it. "He writes like a poet."

"Yep." I laughed.

"That's alright, we have one lead and that might be all we need." Harry left me at the table and sat on a blanket on the creaky floorboards. He had laid it out in front of the fire, he must be cold. He reclined his feet on the pillow and rested his head on another. His body was lit up in a soft, orange light from the flames. He looked so peaceful.

I sat down next to him on my own pillow, this one was a smooth material. Like velvet almost, but it felt fake and worn. I sat down on the papers we had labeled as leads.

"If your Uncle had put something in this swan, do you think he wanted you to find it?" Harry held up the ceramic swan sketch.

"I never knew it had an opening, I thought of it as solid. It always seemed too heavy to be hollow." I shrugged. The bandage on my hand was frayed a little at the edge. It was at this moment I remembered my necklace. Holding my hand at my chest, Harry realized it too.