Dealing With The Marauders

Full Of Change

Chapter 32: Full Of Change
-bex p.o.v.-

Upon waking, I realized that it was silent. Never once, in my stay at the Potter Manor had I woken to a silent house. The morning after the funeral was starting out to be a bad one. But at least we didn't have to go through more of what we already experienced from yesterday.

It was strange, the amount of people that appeared at the funeral service. It was awkward, how they all apologized and said that Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in a better place. It was weird when they left flowers and said things like "gone but never forgotten".

I had never met or seen any of them before, how could they have know that Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Charlus were in a better place? When did they get the right to say that they will never be forgotten, yet if you mention them in a few years, Mr. and Mrs. Potter will only be a dull memory to the strangers.

As I stood and made my way down to the kitchen, passing the closed and locked door of the dreaded study, I noticed that every nook and cranny was filled with vases of flowers. I despised all of the flowers.

Glancing out of the window above the sink, I saw James kneeling by the graves. Mr. and Mrs. Potter weren't far from the house, just a couple of feet away, down by the garden, which was also filled with flowers. I could tell from here that he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks.

There weren't many times I had ever seen James truly sad. And there weren't many times I had seen him cry. James was always the strong one, the one that you went to when you were crying because he could make you laugh. He was great at cuddling and managed to make you feel safe and warm and happy with just wrapping you in his long arms. He had the warmth of Mrs. Potter and the strength of Mr. Potter all wrapped in one.

Seeing him like this truly broke my heart, because James should never be sad. There are certain people in the world that are too good for the horrible things lurking around every corner. James was one of them. James deserved every good thing that came his way and none of the bad.

My anger was fueled when I saw him collapse against the joint tombstones, hugging the stone block as a cry escaped his lips. Without thinking of the possible consequences, I dug through the drawers, searching for a scrap of paper to leave a note, growing impatient when I couldn't find one, I reached for a napkin. Scribbling a quick note, I reached for the floo powder.

-

Tom was in his office, just as I suspected. And when I entered, he looked up, his eyes seemed to have darkened and his skin paled compared to the last time I saw him. A smile twisted on his face, he knew the pain I was going through. He could feel it rolling off of me in waves.

"I knew you would come eventually. In all honesty, I thought you would be most likely to come the night they died. But you astound me nonetheless with your patience." His eyes sparked and one corner of his lips quirked upwards. "If someone killed my blood, I would go after them immediately, seeking vengeance."

I glared, staring at him, taking in his sunken face and less than handsome features. Tom had changed. Not just in looks, but in his perspective, in his attitude. The Tom I had once known would never have said such a thing, not after what he had done. But this was not the Tom I knew. That Tom was gone. This was Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle was dead, and maybe he had been for years, maybe I was just trying to hold onto the small bit of Tom that was left when I first met him.

"How dare you," I spoke each word with precision, enunciating every syllable, letting the words fall from my mouth like drops of venom from a cobra's fangs. "How fucking dare you."