6 September 1895 - Near Salem Square, evening

It always seemed to be one thing after another recently – a sinkhole, dragons, werewolves, the head constable’s death and now some weird mist that was causing people to vanish. At least it gave Harry something to do rather than twiddling his thumbs at his desk or being stuck at the house with his wife. He enjoyed his work and keeping people safe was always an added bonus.

The streets of Irvingly had fallen eerily quiet once the Ministry had forced people out, and now Harry was patrolling for stragglers; those who either didn’t want to leave but had changed their minds, or those who hadn’t been around to be forced to evacuate to begin with. So far it had been a quiet night, giving Harry little to do outside of pace back and forth between the evacuated houses that were just out of the mist’s reach.

A sound broke the stillness. It was just a faint scuff, too deliberate to be the house settling. Wand raised, Harry crossed the street toward the where the sound had come from. It was easy to find, given that whoever was around had left the front door to a house half opened. He pushed it wider with the tip of his wand and stepped across the threshold.

“The Ministry ordered everyone out of Irvingly.” He called out, his grip on his wand tightening. He wondered if he should move upstairs or toward one of the rooms next to him. “It’s not safe here.” It wasn’t quite a shout, but should hopefully be enough to carry.

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Ester Montgomery // Elias Grimstone

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This was the house, wasn’t it? Their old house. Her house, once. She didn’t know if they had stayed in it, the remaining Montgomerys, or had moved somewhere new after she had gone, but – no one had answered the door now. It was unlocked; Ester stepped in.

Maybe it was because the whole house was dark, only lit inside by the reflected light of the streetlamps through the windows, but something about it felt wrong, uncanny. She didn’t recognise the hallway. Maybe this wasn’t the right house, after all. A foolish thing to forget, wasn’t it? Her memories of her Irvingly life were blurry to her now, like a dream half-forgotten after waking. Her eyes were a little blurry, too – she had been weeping today, for the lost boy from the ferris wheel. Thomas, or not Thomas – and though she ought to be grateful for her life, for having escaped the oncoming mist, she could scarcely leave Irvingly without knowing what had become of her real son. Her husband. She had left them once, she knew, so perhaps she had resigned any right to know, but –

The streets had gotten quiet around her; Ester had missed the first rush of evacuations, so she wasn’t entirely sure where anyone had gone. The mist might have taken them all, for all she knew. She had found the familiar street instead, and stepped into the house like entering an old dreamland. Did she know that wallpaper, or was it new? She moved up the stairs with mounting fear and regret and anguish, not even sure what she was mourning or looking for. Proof that it was the right house, at least, some desperate evidence that she remembered something or that her family were indeed alive – Ester stumbled from room to room, tearing open drawers and wardrobes and cabinets, rustling through clothes to see if they spoke to her, searching for names on papers, photo frames, anything –

Exhausted, delirious, she had collapsed onto a bed in one of the bedrooms, pressing her face into the pillow and feeling absurdly like crying again. She didn’t know if she had fallen asleep in the following moments or was still awake, but something stirred from downstairs, and she tensed, not quite hearing what they had said. It sounded like a man, though – maybe even – “Thomas?”

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Harry cursed under his breath as he heard someone call out to him, having been hoping for the sound to be an animal rather than a person. Why people were still willingly sticking around a mist that was clearly sending them somewhere (Harry thought they were dead, but he didn’t voice that to any) was beyond him, and yet… people were. Maybe they didn’t have anywhere to go, but he’d be happy to point them to the makeshift camp the Ministry was setting up.

“Hello?” Harry called out, “I’m from the Ministry. No one should be here right now.” Maybe the woman hadn’t heard him the first time. He stared up at the stairs and hoped she might come flouncing down them, but after a few seconds he realized that no, she wasn’t going to make his life easier. Harry’s hands twitched at his side before he lifted his wand and ascended them, each step creaking under his weight.

Harry paused at the top of the stairs. He could see her in the room straight ahead, curled up on one of the beds in the room. Well, he might as well get it over with, so with a sigh he ventured forward until he was in the room. “Hey,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the situation,“I’m an Auror, and just making sure no one’s left behind. You mentioned someone named Thomas. Was he here with you?”

Harry didn’t want to say it, but if she didn’t know where he was then he was probably gone. Of course there was an off chance that he had evacuated – something that he’d probably have to use to his advantage.

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