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Chapter 48. Reunion

Madeline sucked in a deep breath as the last of her luggage met the cobblestone pavement of the street's curb.

She took in the sight of her home.

The townhouse was exactly the same as she'd left it, the roads and pathways she used to wander alone just as they'd always been.

"Mighty haul you have there, Miss," the taxi driver huffed as he stood straight, his back clearly suffering from the weight of her several enormous bags.

She offered him a small grin as the older man swiped at his reddened forehead, either whisked and flushed with the bitterly chilly wind or the strain of unloading the boot and backseat.

She had tried to assist, begged him to tug the bags out on her own, yet the man politely insisted, and now looked to limp as he began towards the driver's seat again.

Madeline followed shortly behind, nearly tripping over the smallest duffle beside her feet, one of the many included within the set gifted to her over holiday.

Before the man could shut the door behind him, she extended him the last folded tenner, more than double of her owed fare.

"I can't help you take these up, Miss?" the driver sighed as he accepted the payment.

"I'll manage, but thank you."

The driver tipped the brim of his hat down in thanks, and took off back towards Waterloo Station.

She blew out a breath as she peered down at the immense load to take in, wishing only for a brief moment she'd taken the driver up on the offer.

But Madeline had spent nearly the last month being waited on hand and foot, being treated as royalty.

It was about time she adjusted back to her true reality, now that the lot of her friends went their separate ways following their arrival to Britain earlier that week.

Alone, she used her entire might to lug each of the bags up the steps, and fumbled briefly with her keys in one hand to open the door.

Just next door, she knew Ms Whitby's home was empty. When her taxi had passed her neighbour's apothecary, it looked to be plenty busy, leaving Madeline with enough time to settle and unpack before paying her a well anticipated visit.

Upon opening the front door, Madeline was greeted with sickly thick and stale air.

She couldn't keep from making a face as she tugged each of her bags in, plopping them at the entrance of the foyer.

She glanced up the stairs, in the direction of her bedroom, and grimaced.

Without magic, taking each of the bags up now would be quite the feat. One that after a painful lack of sleep following the Malfoys' New Year's Ball, she had no intention of doing right away.

Her home was quiet, empty, and cold. As though no one had graced the halls in ages. More disturbingly, not a single Christmas decoration could be found in sight.

Every year, her father left the decorations, the tree, and garlands up until the day following her birthday, well into the month of January.

Perhaps her father had truly stayed at Hogwarts, where the Great Hall was alight in spirit.

It had always been her father's favourite holiday, one of the only he even celebrated, in fact.

Yet their home didn't reflect it, lacking in everything but a thin layer of dust over every surface.

Madeline began toward the mantle, swiping at the corner with her index finger, collecting a string of dust to brush off onto the floor.

The hearth hadn't been touched in months, its usual light and crackling wood that brought her such joy around the time of year now still and abandoned.