Eight years of changes, remorse and grief.
The sun shines bright over the treetops today. No sunshine can brighten my mood..not today.
I am rarely melancholic, but today I can’t help it.
Quietly I leave the manor and my husband. I doubt he would have come with me anyway, he struggles with his own demons..not that he has mentioned it for a long, long time.
Disapparating to a graveyard, a place I have visited twice a year the past eight years since the war; every year at 2. May and around Christmas time I have been here, paying my respect to our deceased family members.
My first stop is by a white marble gravestone.
I am sure I should have told Dromeda I would go here, but today I can’t face her.
War doesn’t determine who is right, only who is left.
Nymphadora Tonks Lupin 1973 – 2 May 1998.
Remus John Lupin 10 March 1960 – 2 May 1998.
As I kneel down, my wand is drawn to conjure a wreath of flowers; yellow as the Hufflepuff house colours and red as Gryffindor’s.
‘I wish I knew you..I wish I knew you when time was still on our side..’
My words are like a whisper, fading away between the trees that surround the graveyard.
I get back on my feet, still looking at the gravestone. This is no hypocritical act.. This is my way to pay my respect. It doesn’t make me feel better. It will not make the sorrow go away, it will not bring back Teddy’s parents..or my sisters daughter and son in-law.
Under other circumstances..if faith had not stepped in .. in the form of Severus Snape..it could have been my son lying in the ground with only a headstone to be reminded by..
I cannot dwell.. I am not willing to feed my own demons. I have taken upon me to apologise, for my own blindness, for my family’s actions.
I am no martyr.. I am a mother, a sister, an aunt who mourns my family members.
Slowly I turn away from the grave; with my head held high I walk slowly to another part of the graveyard. I need no directions, I know the way by heart.
Taking a deep breath before kneeling down in front of another marble gravestone; a black one with silver letters;
Bellatrix Black Lestrange 1951 – 2.May 1998
Strange, why the date of her birth isn’t mentioned.. nor is Nymphadora’s..
Once again I kneel down with my wand drawn. Another wreath of flowers is conjured; Roses with silvery colour, surrounded by green leaves.
There are times I forget ..times I think she is still alive somewhere.
Denial the healer told me when I by mistake visited St. Mungo’s hospital post war. Rubbish.. I am not in denial. I know she is dead…or do I?
I like the others heard the scream from the Dark Lord when Molly Weasley’s curse hit my sister..
I shake my head to rid myself of the memory.
No matter what she did, she was..she is still my sister, and I swear..at times it is like I can hear her voice and her manic cackling.
I miss her. I miss my sister. I look once more at the gravestone and say it out loud: ‘I miss you Bella’.
I doubt I will ever forgive Molly Weasley.. Never.
Tears burning in my eyes and I know it’s time to go.
‘Pull yourself together Cissy’!
A whisper..or was it the wind?
I look around but there is no one there, only a few people at the other end of the graveyard, no one close enough for me to hear their voices.
Yet I respond;
’Stop it' I whisper. 'Stop it’!!
Stepping away from the grave, struggling with what’s left of my self-control.. I apparate back to my home..to my husband.
Tagged as: today. 8 years later. 2 may. remembering our dead. Narcissa. The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts.