Clover Hawkings and the Triwizard Tournament

13. I See Something I Probably, Most Likely Should Not Have.

Screaming. Flash of green light. Into the woods. Fallen body.

"Yes, I'm going to go tell her now," a tall woman in a black cloak called behind her as she stepped out the door. Like all the other times I've re-lived this day in my sleep, I am standing in my yard with my mother. This time, though, it's clearer, slower, more detailed, as if my mind is determined to know actually what happened over and over- not to mention it's starting several minutes before the part I have nightmares of.  I struggle to break free of it, but the scene keeps playing, like a movie that won't pause. Or end. 

"Oh!" The woman jumps with surprise when she sees the girl she was looking for is on the porch, right by the door. "Sorry, I didn't see you there, pumpkin."

The girl- me- looks earnestly up at her mother. "It's okay, Mommy."

The woman picks the girl up and twirls her around, dancing around the yard, laughing. When the girl is set down, however, her face is serious. "Mommy," she began, "why was aunty Cass crying?"

The woman froze.

"I saw you through the window," the girl added helpfully. "You should make her tea. She likes tea when she's upset."

The woman took a deep breath and crouched down beside the girl. "Honey, Mommy's going to have to go away for awhile."

The girl pouted. "But why? You just came back!"

"Grown-up stuff, pumpkin. I was thinking that maybe you should stay at aunty Cass's house."

"But Mommy, I already am."

"Honey, I mean...longer than that. Even if I come back."

"Forever?"

"Just for a couple of years, sweetheart. Until things...die down a bit. Until you're safe."

"But I am safe!" the girl began to cry heart-wrenching sobs. " You said we'd be together forever! Why are you leaving me?"

"Honey, it's not like that- you'll be safer here, away from harm and the Death Ea-...other who might hurt you. It's safer this way."

I can't bear to watch anymore. The moment holds no terror like the other times, just a terrible, unbearable sadness that settles in your heart and won't come out, like glitter but much more painful. How do I get out? Scream? Wishing it away? Run?  Watching this scene, over and over- knowing the sadness not just from memory, but having to see it...I can't take this much longer. 

I don't want to remember, but I could feel myself spinning, everything swirling, my mental landscape changing....

A little girl sat outside on porch steps, tearing a leaf up into tiny bits. She has long blonde hair and wary hazel eyes- the same girl who ran into the woods next to the porch in the earlier dreams, the same girl I just saw burst into tears moments before.....me. It's odd, to be standing right next to myself. Well, neither of us are fully here (right?).

Inside two women are in the kitchen, arguing. Bored, the girl shuffles over on the porch so she can see the kitchen.

A short, somewhat stock woman with short red hair and blue eyes sits at a bar stool in the island, clutching her mug of tea.

In front of her, a tall, fair woman with blonde hair like the girl's paces around the kitchen island. She would look glamorous in white, but she wears a black cloak, and unlike the girl's long hair, hers is short and tangled, cut with haste. She is undoubtedly my mother.

"I would love to, Charlie, you know I love her, I really do- but why is this necessary? I understand how safe it is there, but then why, sister, do you speak as if you're not...." the red-haired woman forced herself to go on. "Like you're not coming back?"

"I'm not," my mother said softly. "I found it, Cass."

Her sister stared. "Truly?"

She nodded. "Truly."

"Then why are you leaving us!" Cass exclaimed. "The Order needs you! Your daughter needs you! I need you." here her voice cracked. I remember I had been so confused about what my beloved family was talking about- the tears, the screams, covered up by the patient smile my mother put on when she said she needed to have some "grown-up talk" with aunt Cass. The scene played on.

"I can't," Charlie's voice was quiet with conviction, but Cass- and me and young-me- saw her eyes filled with tears. "I need to know more."

"But-"

"There's more of them out there, Cass! I've worked so hard for this, sacrificed so much- my daughter's childhood, my husbands' life- I'm finally getting somewhere! He will kill us. And he will live forever." By this point, I was more curious than afraid, more utterly confused than concerned. Whatever they were talking about was terrible, but since I had no idea what was happening I wasn't full-on panicking. Yet.

Cass lifted her eyes. "Then take me with you. I can fight as well as you, I've had as much training-"

"No!" Charlie slammed her hand on the table. "I go alone. There is no one left for me to hurt, once you and Clover are safe."

Young-me's eyes widened when I heard my name. Why were her mother and aunt arguing? Why were they crying? I remember now how those questions had haunted me, how blurry and painfull that last day has been- oh no. No no no no no. This is what was...hours, minutes before my mother had died. This was the secret to my mother's death. My breath quickened- I wasn't sure that was possible in a dream, but it happened. I waited eagerly for someone to speak, to solve the mystery- of my mother's death, of my broken spirit and haunted dreams. This was it. But the image began to grey. The faces got fuzzier and fuzzier, my mind conscious slowly taking back the reins-

"NOOO!" I could feel my muscles springing into action, and when I opened my sweaty eyelids, I saw the dull black of my dorm once more. A cold sweat covered me. My mind was reeling from everything I had just seen, but I forced myself as best I could to ignore it. I probably shouldn't have seen that. It sounded absurd, but considering, now that I had seen this,  there was probably an actual reason that my aunt never talked about my mother besides grief, I probably was not supposed to know what happened that day. But why not? It was my mother, my life, my memories......my memories that, for some reason, I had never been able to see before. Was it because, for the first time, I didn't try to block it out, and run away? Or because- 

Shut up, Clover, I reminded myself. I would think in the morning. Yes, the morning was the time to ponder this over.  Shaking, I pulled my covers from where they had been kicked onto the floor, concentrating on their worn, soft feel instead of the many thoughts whirling around my head.  I didn't appear that I had woken anyone up. I walked to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and crept back into bed. I punched my pillow back into place and smelt its pillow-y smell.  I could hear the steady rhythms of my friend's breathing, the occasional coo of an owl, and the wind howling to the castle. These sounds had ushered me to sleep for years.

But I did not sleep.