The Keep

26. A Home

Hazel felt even more frustrated the next morning. She get out of her bed angrily, and stomped herself down to the hall. 

Hazel felt extremely useless yet very much restless. And as the Green Hall came to her sight, she found a mean to let out her frustration.

Hazel marched onward through the thick wilderness of the Green Hall. She was breaking dry branches and cutting dead trunks in her way, even pulling off shrubs from its entangling roots. The shrubs were not too pleased with that. 

They started to tangle themselves around Hazel in revenge. And once the twines and thorny branches had Hazel completely entangled, she was being dragged down unto the ground. She was to be buried alive so that the shrubs could use her body as fertilizers.

Hazel was actually desperate for any form of confrontation, so that she can finally let loose of all the raging aggression that has been building inside her. She was practically smirking as she threw up her wand to the air and conjured a firestorm.

The shrub dwindled themselves hastily to avoid the fire. And when Hazel heard the screeching of the branches as they were retreating in panic around her, she reached a moment of sanity.

'Whatever was that for?' Hazel thought to herself. 'What have they done to wrong me?'

"Aguamenti," Hazel swayed her wand around. She was feeling remorseful of her own foolishness.

And by then, all the five house-elves have gathered themselves around her.

"What's happened, Mistress?" asked Winnie.

"What do you expect? She lost her mind, just like everyone else," Waldo muttered to answer her.

"Don't mind young Waldo, Mistress. He's just upset because he loves the garden so much," Worn said as he swept his heavily wrinkled hand on the air to conjure a soft rain.

Aunt Gilly came gliding down from the ceiling, "What was that? Fire? Why?" she asked frantically, while still dressed in her night gown.

"Fire, Mistress. The young mistress has gone bonkers," Waldo ratted her out.

"Mind your language, Waldo. Hazel is your mistress," Aunt Gilly has changed to her usual fluff gown as she glided closer to Hazel.

"Yes, Mistress," Waldo apologized to Aunt Gilly while throwing a begrudging look to Hazel.

"What's wrong, love? Oh my, you've burned your dress," Aunt Gilly said.

Hazel looked down. Her night gown, which was wet by the water-spell and Worn's rain, was burned to her knees, leaving jagged lines in black soot as hem.

Maybe Waldo was right. Maybe she has gone bonkers.

Refusing to let her thoughts drag her back into another depressing round of self-reflection like she's been doing all night, Hazel asked Aunt Gilly, "Can we do something about this garden, Aunt Gilly?"

"Do you really hate it so much that you want to burn it down?" Aunt Gilly asked. Her face reflected her deep concern toward Hazel.

"No, I hate that we have no control over it," Hazel said.

"Gardens are supposed to be a peaceful scenery, a source of inspiration, a soothing breeze of nature. And this," Hazel gestured her both hands to the wilderness that was the Green Hall, "is not!" Hazel felt herself enraged.

"How can we let it consume the Keep as it please? How did we let them crumble our two towers, and carved a river on our dungeon? How can Asa play the piano if the shrub were to get to it? And it has!" Hazel pointed to the grand piano.