There were so many logistics, before she could even begin to let herself grieve. She had to help the muggles in the woods, liaise at the encampment, assist with pushing people back from the barrier. She had to get Henry set up at Roslyn's, she had to — help him tell her father, which was one of the worst and hardest conversations Zelda had ever had. It was harder, still — because they did not know, could not be entirely sure yet, that Nemo and Katia and her brother-in-law and several of her nieces were dead.

They could not be sure; there were not any bodies.

Ross would have sent her home if she'd gone back to the site, so she apparated from the cobblestones of Bartonburg to the docks of the Sanditon. Zelda was not sure what she was hoping for — just that she could not yet face her own home, at the risk of running into Evander and Caroline or her children before her husband.

There was still the risk of running into her children, maybe, especially on a Sunday. But — there was Alfred on one of the sailboats, and she could only hope that he was alone.

Zelda walked to the appropriate landing and stayed on the dock. She folded her arms over her chest, like she was hugging herself. Her braid was askew, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed, and she was still wearing her Ministry robes. But still — she had to verbalize it. She had to say it.

The hardest parts first, then, in a hollow voice, "Katia and Nemo both vanished."