September 7th, morning — Hawthorne Hollow

The Fisks were numerous. This was often a blessing.

Zelda jotted a note off to her father before the sun rose that morning — still no word from the Meadowes, or from Nemo. That did not mean they were gone, as the site was a mess, and there were certainly still people in the woods or finding shelter, and maybe her family did not have access to an owl. That did not mean anything, because no one could be sure, because there were no bodies and no coherent witness statements. They would be fine because Caroline and Evander were fine, so — tons of people had escaped.

Just after dawn, she apparated to the Ministry site she'd left last night, checked in with an auror Ross was likely supervising, and went into the hollow. Unlike many law enforcement staff, Zelda's new experience in Muggle Artifacts meant that she had talked to some of the Irvingly muggles regularly, when an artifact went wrong near them and they were witnesses. So she was sure she could find some of the muggles now, and encourage them — or help them — get closer to Hogsmeade.

There were wizards in here, too. This might be her opportunity to find her family.

She heard bedraggled voices and then she saw him, and Zelda found herself trotting towards the younger man.

"Henry," she said, not entirely believing it. She picked up the pace and yes, there he was — her nephew, intact. Relief bloomed in Zelda's chest and she was sure she'd see the rest of them right after him, Katia and William and Nemo and her adult nieces. They'd made it through. "Henry!"

She pulled him into a hug, too relieved to focus on professionalism.

Henry Meadowes Flora Mulciber

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   Henry Meadowes

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AMAZING set by MJ

He wasn't sure what he'd seen. One moment, they were enjoying the day. The sky was blue, there was a soft breeze in the air that caused gooseflesh up his arms every time it washed over him. He remembered each moment in slow motion, in vibrant color. It was like any other day—busy, full of laughter and light bickering. And then, in a matter of seconds, life changed.

He couldn't get the image of them out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the moment his mother realized something was wrong. She'd been standing there, her arm wrapped around Irma's shoulder, and she'd turned around to look at him the second before she disappeared. It wasn't terror or sadness or worry on her face—just confusion. She'd looked to him for help, not his father, not Uncle Nemo, not anyone else around. She'd looked to him because he was her eldest and because his job was to protect people. She trusted him, and he didn't even get a chance to grab them, to say goodbye, to try.

And then she was gone, taking his father and Irma and Bethany with her.

He knew he looked awful. His hair clung to his forehead and the back of his neck, his shoes and pants had smatters and smears of dirt all across them. Once the Ministry had arrived, he'd defaulted into on-duty mode. Blank-faced, he'd answered the calls of his superiors with action, going home to home to tell everyone to get out. Get out before their families vanished, before they vanished. Before the choice was taken from them. He wasn't delicate with his words—hell, he couldn't remember if he'd said much beyond barked orders at all—but he got them out. He didn't have anywhere to go, so he'd continued doing what he was told throughout the night, volunteering to keep watch and help any stragglers who hadn't wanted to evacuate when the call was first put out.

It had been at least twenty-four hours since he'd last slept, but the thought didn't dawn on him until dawn struck the next morning.

And it was finally then—only when he heard his name in a too-familiar voice, and only when the effect of sleep deprivation had set in—that tears came to his eyes. They pricked at the corners first, and then flowed freely as he wrapped his arms around his aunt.

"Mother is—Father too—and Bethany and Irma—vanished," he hiccuped into her hair, all the air having left his lungs.

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   Aldous Crouch

Zelda's breath came out in a gasp, as if Henry had hit her in that soft spot at the bottom of her ribcage. She hadn't seen her nephew cry since he was a child — (frankly, she was rather close in age to him to be thinking of him as being so young) — but his voice sounded thick with emotion, and she could feel her hair growing damp from his tears.

"You haven't found them yet?" Zelda asked. She was ready to reassure him — to tell Henry that they would find them.

  

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AMAZING set by MJ