Recollections (open)

Elisabetta walked in the Garden of Solace, remembering the fight that she'd had with her father
on the evening before she was to return to Hogwarts. It had had something to do with what her parents did whenever they weren't doing what they usually did; after all, they did have some free time, didn't they? Of course they did, and Betta found out the ugly way just what her parents did on their off time.

There had been a bloody shirt which had been carelessly tossed aside in a closet by her father. Betta had seen him do this, and a moment later, she'd picked up the shirt and stormed over to him, disbelief and anger in her eyes.

"What's this? Is that blood on this shirt?"

Damiano had merely smiled at her. "Come, come, now Betta. Don't be silly. Your mother accidentally cut herself, and we used this shirt as a-"

"How stupid do you think I am, Father?" Betta had shrieked. "Mother doesn't wear this sort of shirt, you know that! This is something that Muggles wear--" Her eyes had grown wide...suddenly it all clicked. "The both of you...what did you do, Father?"

Damiano looked at his daughter critically, realizing that she now knew his secret. "We cleaned up the wizarding world, Elisabetta. Merlin knows that there's enough filth walking round on two feet."

"You killed someone? Oh my god..."

"Yes, Betts. We killed someone. More than one someone." Damiano replied, grabbing his daughter's left arm and flipping it over. "Were I you, I'd hold off on the moaning and groaning about what I and your mother do--"

"Never! And I'll never join whatever stupid group you two are in, just in case you had that in mind!"''

"You won't have much of a choice, Elisabetta!" her father exclaimed loudly. "Not if you want to live to see your graduation from Hogwarts."


Betta shuddered as she remembered this last remark. To think that she would be forced into a group she had absolutely no clear information on what it was about other than murdering people--no, she wasn't having it. But how was she supposed to resist? Would she have to run away?

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and started walking around again, trying to let the feel of the fresh, clean air sweep out the horrid memories of that night. It felt like the world had suddenly dropped on her shoulders; she needed to get it off as quickly as possible.

The Garden of Solace... a place Sam had been avoiding ever since its creation, earlier in the Holidays.

Why he was avoiding it... well, it was just one of those things you wanted to avoid. He didn't know quite why, the rational part of him was pleading to be able to simply come to proper terms with what had happened that horrific night, to come here and say goodbye to those he'd fought alongside.

But something kept him from doing it... something would come up, something small and trivial. Cleaning his room, writing a letter... even on one day going to work with his mother. Yes, he was undoubtedly avoiding the Garden.. the unkown, more like it, trying desperately to ignore what he could of the past, but knowing that it was there, much as the thought in the back of his mind was there.

It was time

Nodding a quiet farewell to his parents from the main street of Hogsmeade he set off to the Garden, enjoying the walk far more than he predicted he'd enjoy being in the garden itself. Summer was a beautiful time of year for Hogsmeade, and as much as the blacks and whites of winter suited the village and its surroundings, one couldn't help but enjoy looking at the long grains of grass, swaying with the wind.

But as with all good things, his peace of mind came to an end as the Garden came closer, its image growing and growing, until he had finally arrived at his destination.

"Oh god," he said, his voice breaking as he crossed the non-existant threshold into the memorial. It was beautiful, he had to admit that much, there was absolutely no denying it. But it was ugly to Sam, a physical embodiment of the worst thing that had ever happened to him, to the night that would always remain implanted in his mind.

Tears slowly rolling down his face he walked through, following the main path and looking around at his surroundings, pausing to wipe his nose with his sleeves every now and then. This couldn't be helping could it? The pain he felt looking at the names was far greater than he had felt all throughout the holidays, this definitely couldn't be helping him move on.

With a quiet sigh he turned on his feet, striding briskly back the way he'd come, before seeing that he was not alone.

A girl, his age by the looks of it, was quietly walking through the Garden, a look on her face seeming to almost mirror his own feelings.

"Hello," he called out, no hint of the usual joyful tone in his voice, the wind carrying it across Garden to her.

Betta looked up to see a boy standing in front of her. "Hello." She gestured around the garden before giving him a sad smile. "Great place, isn't it? This is only my second time here." Saying this, she walked over to him. "You look about as bad as I feel." she commented, looking at the tree that she'd just been leaning against. "I'm seeing too many names that I know in here; they should have called this place the Garden of Depression. Still...it is oddly comforting at the same time. I'm blabbing, though. Bad habit of mine." she finished, blushing slightly. "What brings you here, if you don't mind my asking?"

((Just a side note, please watch your word count ))

"It's... well, it symbolises something horrible, in my eyes, but you're right," he said, looking around as he spoke, "it is a nice memorial for those who were lost in the battle," he told her, redirecting his gaze so that he was looking straight at her.

"It's my first, I've... well, I've actually been putting off coming here," he said, quickly cleaning his face up a little bit before properly appearing before the girl. "Well, I probably feel worse then," he said with an attempt at a smile, "This is my brave face," he told her, chuckling softly, a noise which sounded alien in this place.

"It's horrible, just horrible," he then said, looking at the same tree and shaking his head, turning away to hide his expression from her as he struggled slightly to regain his composure. "That name would have been fitting, for sure, but you're right, it is comforting" he agreed, nodding and once again facing here.

He smiled then, for real this time, listening as she spoke. "No no, don't apologise, I'm worse normally, I'm sure you'll realise that once school goes back," he told her, grinning a little, before pausing as she asked a question.

It was a good question for sure, one he wasn't sure he could answer properly, but he figured he'd give it a good go, at least.

"I was there... i took part in the.. in the battle," he told her, his smile disappearing quickly. "Right from the start to the end, I saw it end for some of these people. I felt that I really needed to come here, y'know, before school when back," he said.

"I feel a little guilty though, I have to admit. I went back to school before i came here, I helped with the reparations you see," he told her, shrugging a little.

"Oh, you fought? If it's the battle I'm thinking of, you probably fought against my parents." Betta said, her face turning red. "I'm not sure if I should say anything...well, I might...let's just say they aren't of the decent sort." she confessed. "I figured it out last night; my father was careless in throwing a bloody shirt onto the floor where I could find it. I'm not sure if he meant for me to see it or what, but he was as casual as you could be about it."
Betta sighed and leaned against a tree. "Death Eaters...they really should all be in Azkaban, but not all of them are there. Take my word for it."

She let out a heavy sigh and glanced around at the garden, wishing that a place like this would never have had to be made. "It was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Mum and Dad were there. I don't know if you've heard of Damiano and Simone Domenici, but unfortunately, they're my parents and they want me to get involved in whatever it is they're involved in now, since the vast majority of Death Eaters are locked up. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to start recruiting again."

Betta looked at him. "I'm sorry for my parents and their misdeeds." she said quietly. "There are a lot of people I knew whose names are etched in here as well. Some of them were my best friends--" she said, choking up just then, but refusing to cry in front of him. "They died too young.."

It felt as though the temperature had dropped to ice cold in a matter of seconds as Sam stood there and listened to Elisabetta speak, telling him the words he really didn't want to be hearing from anyone, almost admitting guilt right there in front of him,

Except she wasn't, and as she spoke he felt guilt run free throughout him as he realised that she too, had been affected by the actions of her own parents, possibly in a way far worse than he had, for while he may have been hurt, or lost friends, she had experienced all that, as well as losing her parents, by the sounds of it.

"I," he said, before stopping as he tried to think of the right words to say, "It's, I mean," he said, frowning deeply. "It's not your fault," he finally said, walking closer to her so that he could put his hand on her shoulder. "You aren't your parents, I can tell just by talking to you," he told her calmly.

"I've not heard the names before I'm afraid, but I can understand what you're saying... they all died too young, but it wasn't for nothing, I don't think. And I don't think that your parents and... and their lot are entirely to blame for what happened. A lot of people were at the school that night, and I think that almost everyone there has a level of guilt to them," he said, his voice turning hollow as he recalled the fight that had sparked the battle.

"I... I don't know you, but I have to tell someone," he said, struggling slightly to speak. "I've kept this hidden from everyone else I know, my parents, friends... but I was one of the people who called the Order into the school. If we'd not done that... I can only wonder what would have actually happened," he told her, hanging his head in shame.