Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Twenty-Three

A shout erupted through the silent house.

I shot up in bed, my heart beating erratically, my head spinning. I rubbed my tired eyes, jumping out of bed to look for Dad — something had happened, I could feel it.

I ran out of my room, stumbling in my fatigue. I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night; when we were leaving St. Mungo's yesterday, the head healer had told us that Mum's condition was getting much worse, and quickly.

Then the healer told us that she would be dead by next week.

Dad and I took this news horribly, although we put up a facade until we had gotten home. Once we had safely crossed the threshold, we crashed into despair.

There was screaming, shouting, and broken sobbing most of the night, and Dad had even smashed a few of Mum's precious vases, still holding the dried-out flowers that she hadn't been home to replace.

And yet, despite the anguish and agony, Dad had found it in him to wrap me in his arms, apologizing fervently, over and over, telling me about how he wished he'd been a better father to me.

By the time he finally fell quiet, I could hardly see; my eyes were so puffy from crying.

It was a relief and yet a horrible jolt of shock; Dad's apology meant change, and that meant a possibility that the very thing I dreaded would be coming — I could lose Mum forever.

I laid awake in bed all night, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to feel nothing as I prayed that Mum would wake up. We could be happy. Dad would shower Mum in kisses, and he would tell her that we would be a proper family. We would make up for all the lost time.

We would finally be happy.

Maybe a near-death experience was the only thing that can bring people together.

And now, it was the next morning, and Dad had answered the phone after it rang three times.

I threw myself into the kitchen as Dad's sobs filled the empty silence of the house, and as soon as my eyes landed on Dad, I watched him put the phone down, crying into his hands.

"Dad?" I asked, my voice so hoarse I was surprised he even heard me.

He looked up at me, starting toward me and pulling me into a tight hug. "Are you ready to go?" he asked through his tears.

My heart fell, and I felt myself crashing into a black hole. My worst nightmare had come true.

I wasn't there mentally as we hopped into the car, still in our pajamas. I didn't pay attention as we drove down to London, and I was still dazed as we headed for the second floor, where Mum was resting in the Magical Bug ward.

I skidded to a halt a few meters from Mum's bed, suddenly fully aware.

I'd been dreading seeing my mother, pale and lifeless. But instead, there she was, no longer pale and lifeless, but sitting up in bed, smiling, her eyes wide open as she looked around brightly.

And then Mum's gaze landed on me, and my vision clouded with tears as I saw the life in her eyes.

I sprinted to her side, throwing my arms around her and crying into her chest as she hugged me back.

"It's all right, Brianna. I'm fine, we're okay."

We're okay.

Those two simple words reverberated in my head, breaking me from my stupor. Finally, for the first time in months, I felt awake.

The hours passed quickly as Dad and I talked with Mum, feeling more emotion than I had ever felt in my entire life.

As I had expected, Dad showered Mum with kisses, and he told her that they were going to make things right. Mum agreed instantly, apologizing to me, shedding tears of her own. She promised we'd become a family, and we'd be happier than ever because life was too precious to wait.

Suddenly, she fell back into her pillows, shuddering. She'd used too much strength.

The healers shooed us out, telling us to take a lunch break while Mum rested a while.

After another week, Mum had recovered noticeably and was allowed to return home, but she needed a hired healer to care for her, almost like a nanny. We agreed to these terms happily; it would be a gift to get Mum back home, no matter what the conditions.

Mum settled back into the house nicely; she even got out of bed occasionally to visit the living room or gaze out at the dying and uncared-for garden, which used to thrive before Mum got sick.

But with my mother back, the house started to feel more like home than it had ever felt before. It looked like Hogwarts would finally have some competition.

The healers said Mum wouldn't fully recover for another year at the least, and that it was a wonder she was recovering at all.

But Mum merely said that for her family, she would find the strength.

And she did. She was recovering steadily, she was even eating proper foods now and then. She was getting stronger, the color was returning to her cheeks, and life at home was like never before.

The house was cheerful and bright, and there were smiles all around. Dad taught me how to play muggle American football, and I showed him all the spells I'd learned at Hogwarts so far (but never actually casting the spells, since I wasn't allowed to). I played even chess with Mum. I hated chess, but it was worth it to see the smile on her face whenever she outsmarted me.

As the end of the summer holidays neared, I realized I was right about something — near-death experiences do bring people closer.