one 𖤓 Bleak, Bitter, Burning

In his coffin, the wood lined with a hint of gold and his finest clothes adorned on his pale, rigid body, my father has never looked so small. Throughout his life — only just scraping past his thirty eighth birthday, Alfred Greengrass had been a man of a height those around him could only pray to achieve, both in physical stature and grand achievements. No one could deign think themselves capable of reaching the great mountain he'd scaled inch by inch, rock by rock.

No wonder he had died as he lived — bruised and bloody and seething in anger. Struck down with nothing to show for himself but a legacy built on hatred and destruction and bitter rivalries.

It is a shock that I do not mourn, truly.

A lie, of course, I insist to make myself feel better. Perhaps it is easier to pretend I do not care rather than fight the monster of grief building within me like a storm on the horizon, dark and threatening and ever expanding. A mixture of relief and agony rushing through me, claiming my body as its home.

"Are there any final words you all wish to speak to the deceased?" The priest asks with a gentle exhale, a Bible open in his flat hands as his eyes flicker between myself, my mother, and my three siblings. Each of their expressions are ones riddled with the sorrow I store deep in my chest, refusing to let show. It is them whom need comfort in a moment like this, not myself.

Edward takes a step forward, bony hands wringing from where they hover above his chest. "May I?"

"Go on," the priest urges, a kind smile on his lips. A warmth radiates from the holy man despite the bleak chill of the summer air, which seems to calm my brother enough to blink back the tears I see beading in his brown eyes.

"I will miss you, father," Edward says, gaze shifting between the priest and our mother, searching both for approval. When my mother gives him a wobbly smile, he takes this as encouragement, continuing, "I will do my best to uphold the noble name of Greengrass, which you have passed down for me to bear. I will make you proud, I swear it."

I watch, heart seizing in the most amount of emotion I have felt since our father's demise as a tear runs down my little brother's cheek, slipping through despite his attempts to hold them back. He wipes it away with the palm of his hand, exhaling a shaky breath.

"Goodbye, father."

"Would you like to speak?" The priest extends his offer towards my mother, who shakes her head as she wipes away tears of her own, and then the younger of my two sisters, Frida.

"I will pray for our father's ascent into Heaven, in the arms of our Lord," she answers diligently, as though reading from a piece of parchment rather than speaking from within her heart.

I cannot blame her. Words can be difficult. I of all people am aware of this.

"And you?" The priest is staring at the elder of my younger siblings now — Osburh, with a weary but resigned sort of expectation written onto his expression. He is all too familiar with her, as is the rest of our village, and knows whatever will spill from her lips is bound to be bizarre.

At fifteen years old, Osburh Greengrass takes after our father the most out of the four offspring he had, in both nature and appearance. Her skin the same pale shade, eyes having the same shimmer in them I only ever saw within Alfred. Frida and Edward are more akin to our mother, kind and soft and quiet, Osburh has a tempest within her I would not know how to begin to quell, even if I wished to.

An odd sort of smile slides across her lips, contrasting the tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "I will hope and pray for Salazar Slytherin's demise, for what he did to you. I hope he goes down in flames, I hope he burns in Hell for—"

"Quiet, Osburh!" Our mother hisses, reaching over to grab onto her wrist. A warning, every one of us understands, but Osburh does not appear bothered by the scolding of our mother.

"As you wish, mother," Osburh says politely, giving our mother the same crooked smile.

A silence passes, with me shifting my weight against the dirt I stand on.

"It is your turn, if you so desire."

Finally, the priest has his attention on me. Not just him, but the eyes of my entire family, my mourning mother and overwhelmed brother, and raging and heartbroken sisters.

Where along this spectrum do I lay, I wonder to myself as I pause, struggling to come up with adequate words to give for my father's final send off.

Everyone but me had a reaction the moment we discovered Alfred Greengrass had been stabbed in the back. My mother had fallen to the floor in a fit of sobs, begging and pleading for it to be untrue. Frida had fainted. Osburh had not believed the man who came to tell us, fighting with him for an hour. And Edward, little Edward, he had ran outside of our home and thrown up in the grass.

As for me? I had stood there, mind numb as I observed the rest of my family and the shambles they had become, a few words tearing down a dynasty. And now, I stand in the same position with the same neutral expression and void emotions, searching myself for anything I can feel. Anything I can say that truly comes from my heart.

Nothing.

This will not do.

My cheeks heat red as I declare, "I need to go."

"Emma—" My mother begins, a scold building in her tone, but I ignore her. It matters little what she has to say, no words of hers will allow me to speak my truth.

Hands grabbing at my skirt as to not trip, I step away from the box in which my father will spend an eternity, rotting away until all that remains are bones. Even those will not last forever, from my understanding. Bones too become one with the dirt after enough time passes.

Alfred Greengrass truly had no business being a mortal man. He would have done anything to avoid this humbling fate — a fate designed for kings and peasants alike, but he was neither of those. He was as close to a God as a human could muster, with a touch of gold and a tongue of steel.

I do not know where exactly I am headed, I just know I need air, I need to be able to breathe long and deep without knowing I am inhaling the subtle scent of a dead body. I need to be able to look around my surroundings without seeing my shattered family.

I need to be able to find peace, if just for a few minutes.

Straying from the path I step atop, my feet find themselves moving without my mind guiding them, following an invisible string into the forest nearby. I often take walks within the trees after the sun goes down, despite the obvious dangers lurking. Between branches and leaves and coarse bark and dirt beneath my feet is one of the few places I am able to find clarity during times in which my mind is ailed with stress.

Running a hand through my brown hair, I crane my neck up at the dimly lit sky through the canopy of trees, searching the clouds for any bits of sun that could potentially peak through. My heart is aching, burning, pounding as though attempting to break free from its place behind my ribcage, and my head spins as I search the sky for any sign of sun. My body, it seems, wills for me to join my father.

"What are you doing?"

I pivot my head back to a normal position, dizziness consuming me as I do, and having to place a hand against a tree to keep myself from toppling over. Through the grass, a man strides towards me, chin lifted high with intent despite his awkward demeanor.

"Looking for the sun," I answer simply, eyes scanning Merlin for an intention I cannot find.

I know this man, Merlin Something-Or-Other, well enough, through our occasional conversations at the market and rare encounters back at Hogwarts. He is a man five years my senior, one with a passion for magic unlike anything I have seen before. Rumors at Hogwarts were spread about him during the few years we attended at the same time, of spells and enchantments he concocted himself, curses he tested on people who got on his nerves.

The moment I am confident in my ability to remain upright, I take a step backwards.

"The sun?" He lifts an eyebrow, glancing up for a moment as well before returning to meet my gaze. "Is there a reason you wish to see it?"

"It is...grounding," I admit with a shrug as a gentle breeze blows by, sending leaves into me. "Some people prefer the moon, but knowing where the sun resides is much more of a comfort to me."

"Alas, the clouds conceal it from your sight." Merlin tuts in a fake sort of contemplation. "I could fix your ailment for you, if you desire. I know a spell to change the weather as one desires."

My eyes grow wide, an unusual eagerness spreading through me before I recall who it is I am speaking to. Settling my expression and dimming my hope, I ask, "What is it you wish for in return?"

"Who says I want anything? You are in a state of mourning, would it not be typical for an acquaintance to make a kind gesture towards you?"

"It would be, if it came from anyone else," I agree, keeping my tone pleasant. "But not from you."

A scoff runs through him. "I suppose you know me well then, Emma."

"I know enough. You do not appear as the type to give without expecting something in return, nor do random gestures of good will seem to be something you are familiar with." It is with a matter of fact tone of voice I speak with, not accusatory nor unkind. Simple and to the point, as I wish more people were.

Evidentially sensing my inner thoughts, Merlin steps towards me. "I see you wish for me to cut to the chase, then."

"I would appreciate it, yes."

"Your father is dead," he begins bluntly, and I feel my jaw shift.

"I am aware."

"Who is to provide for your family now? Little Edward? He has seven years ahead of him at Hogwarts if he opts to attend, before he can begin to think about tending to your family and their needs."

"My mother will do a fine job of it until Edward is of age. And she has my sisters and I to aid her."

"Hilda Greengrass — or should I refer to her as Hilda Crabbe now, is as frail and small as they come, you know this as well as I. I highly doubt she could even lift a shovel, let alone use one."

"Perhaps she will remarry, then," I offer up, unable to refute his argument. Merlin is right, though I may hate to admit it. Not to mention the fact that my mother would throw herself into a river as opposed to do intense manual labor. She had been content sitting at home, refining clothing, tending to the animals and preparing the food.

"She is nearing an age too old to conceive children. What other use will she have?"

I only just hold myself back from slapping him across the face, reining in control on my tongue and subduing the anger I feel rise in me. Anger has no use here, not with me. Keeping my tone steady despite the bitterness peaking out from under, I respond, "She is beautiful, and kind, and can help with whatever a husband may need. It is not just a lineage that men seek in a woman."

"Perhaps." He shrugs. "But it would be foolish to wait until the day may or may not come in which someone offers her their hand. You face a life of poverty, of starvation, until a miracle may only possibly graze your presence. Are you willing to take that risk, Emma?"

"What do you suggest we do instead?"

I watch, a sick feeling growing in my stomach as his lips curve upwards in a gentle smile that fails to meet his wild eyes. "I wish for you to marry me."

This time, I cannot contain my emotions, horror and amusement and disgust, which manifest as a laugh ripping from my throat and bursting into the air.

"You think I am jesting?" Merlin blinks when my laugh dies down.

"What other explanation could there be?" I sputter, shaking my head as the shock of his proposal wears off, leaving raw confusion in its stead. "I do not know you — we have spoken only a handful of times. I still have my final year to complete at Hogwarts. I cannot even think about marriage until I have graduated, let alone with you."

"You still intend on returning to Hogwarts?" He asks with the raise of his eyebrow, though I do not miss the glint of fury in those eyes of his, despite his best effort to mask it.

"Why would I not? My father has died, not me. Life moves forward. A life that I will not spend tied down to a man I do not know and do not particularly care for."

It is Merlin's turn to laugh, an odd sort of bark jolting from behind his parted lips, amusement drenched in the anger that he can afford to show. "You know what I think, Emma?"

I am silent.

He continues anyways, as though I have asked him to, "I think Salazar Slytherin had the right idea, killing your father. Your crooked, proud family deserves to fall into ruin. But when you do, remember this is the moment you threw away an opportunity to save yourself and your loved ones from what is to come."

"What is to come?" I repeat his own words, forming them into a question and throwing it back at him. "Tell me, Merlin, what will I lose because I did not agree to live out the rest of my life with you?"

This time, he is the one who goes silent, though not out of lack of ability to respond. No, through the smirk that grows on his face, I can tell he holds back the vilest of words, having perhaps just as much restraint as I do.

When he spins around without another word and walks back the way he came, something in my gut tells me this will not be the last time I find myself at the whims of that mad wizard. That his anger is akin to mine, with one separating difference — he has no reason to contain it.

𖤓

"Where were you?" Is the first thing I hear as I step inside our home, followed by footsteps as my mother rushes away from the fire she has started to cook dinner over and towards me, cheeks burning red with rage.

"I went for a walk," I answer simply, shifting my position to look around her. "Where are the others? Osburh and Frida and Edward. Have they gone outside?"

Her nose twitches. "It matters not where your siblings are. Do not deflect from your actions by shifting the attention onto them."

"I was not—"

"You walked out on your father's funeral!" My mother cuts me off with a burning glare, furious tears burning in her eyes. "Your father, the man who you owe your entire existence and happiness to, is dead, and you abandoned him as we lay him to rest! What do you have to say for yourself, Emma?"

For a long moment, I stare at her. There is no excuse, she is correct, no explanation I could give her beyond what she already is aware of. Any remaining part of me that desires to argue back, to push my side despite her already knowing it dies the moment I meet her eyes again, seeing that deep within her irritation is sorrow building bigger and bigger with every second of silence that passes.

Swallowing any pride I feel, I bow my head. "I am sorry I upset you, mother. Now was not a time to put my emotions over yours, or my brother and sisters."

I watch as the smallest of smiles tugs at her lips. She cannot stay mad at me, not for long, and the same goes in reverse from me to her. Especially now, of all times, when we are all has. "I understand. It is hard for you too, my dear. The loss of your father taking a toll on all of us. We all must bear our burdens as best as we can, in the ways we can."

"Where are my brother and sisters?" I ask again, this time the tone of my voice as calm as I can get it. "I wish to apologize to them for the callous nature I showed."

Her smile expands, relief in her eyes, though as quick as it comes, it vanishes, replaced with uncertainty. "They are at the lake. Edward wished to fish, and I suppose we need dinner. We have fresh eggs, but I was hoping to wait until tomorrow to cook them."

I can hear the anxiety in her tone as she speaks, the wariness she has already begun to feel regarding her new role as sole provider for our family, and I swiftly say, "I will help them fish, if it is needed. We will have plenty of food, mother, do not fret over it."

"Thank you, my dearest girl. It is appreciated."

Giving her one final look, hoping she can sense the apology deep within me, I exit our home and make my way down the cobblestone pathway that leads towards a lake. It is not far from our home, sometimes overflowing enough that water seeps into our garden and ruins our plants, but never has flooded the insides.

Before his demise, before his rival would murder him in cold blood and flee the scene like the coward he is, Father would often spend hours at the lake when he had nothing else that needed to be done, staring out at the water as though it held the answers to the universe within in. Now, as I approach the edge of the water and the three figures hovering on the dock, it is my brother that wears the same solemn expression.

Frida notices my approach first, head turning away from where it watched the clouds drift around far above us from the harsh wind. When her eyes settle on me, she smiles, nearly dropping her fishing rod in the process. She only just catches it as she calls out, "Emma! Join us!"

Above us all, the sun seems to have begun to set from behind the clouds, casting gentle, distorted shadows over the lake and ripples in the water from where fish swim by, oblivious to the way my siblings intend to catch them. The scent of summer lingers in the air despite the chill, providing an odd sort of comfort in the otherwise melancholic atmosphere between us Greengrass children.

I do as requested, rushing over the wood to approach them. Osburh has also averted her attention away from the tranquil waters and towards me, but Edward has not.

From the angle, I can just barely see his pale face, eyes open in what appears to be a permanent stare. Haunting, is the only word I can think of to describe it, the horror that seems to have seized every inch of my little brother, filling his veins and consuming his still beating heart.

"Edward," I begin, reaching out a hand to place on top of his shoulder and hopefully shake him from his trance, but Osburh slaps my hand away with her own.

"Leave him," she commands, gaze shifting between the two of us. In a less harsh tone, she continues, "He will not speak to any of us. He will not even look away. I think he is shaken by the funeral. By what it means for him."

I nod, understanding, though her words do not dim my concern. "We all are. But it is not his burden alone to bear, the weight of the Greengrass name. We are all here to help, are we not?"

For a moment, she is silent, considering this. Considering if she is willing to aid our brother in the quest that is upholding his name — our name, no matter the toll it may take on us in the process.

"I suppose you are right. I am sorry. I did not mean to be aggressive," Osburh sighs, extending a hand and grabbing onto my own — the one she had hit away. Though the moment her skin meets mine, a frown forms on her face, the apology she was spouting vanishing. "You are burning up, sister."

I blink. "Pardon?"

Frida turns away from the lake again at the word, eyes narrowing in on me. "Emma, what is wrong with your skin?"

Once again, I blink, gaze shifting towards me hand. The moment I settle on my skin, on spidery veins turned from a cyan to a burning, fiery orange, I feel it.

My body is on fire. There is no other way to describe it, the sudden sensation of pair searing through every inch of flesh, radiating from what must be my bones and directing outwards onto my skin, onto my now orange veins and red, raw skin. I am burning from the inside out, set alight as quick and without ceremony as my father had been struck down.

There is no time to process what is happening, nor the words coming from my two sisters as they profess what I assume is confusion. No, all I can focus is on the pain so raw, so cutting, I cannot even find it within me to scream.

Instead, my legs give way and I collapse, my burning body falling off of the dock and into the frigid water just as my conscious slips away. 

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Author's Notes

I don't have a lengthy yap about this chapter prepared, just that I did my best with semi-old fashioned language both in dialogue and Emma's inner monologue without making it either too flowery or too difficult to understand, so I hope it came across alright :) the pacing kinda sped up at the end, but it was kind of supposed to resemble the quickening pace of her curse taking form so...hopefully that wasn't too annoying lol.

Obviously Salazar is not in this chapter but he is mentioned...as Alfred Greengrass's murderer! Not really a shocker as that was in the extended summary but not everyone reads those lol. Salazar will be coming very soon, promise!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know your thoughts!