[Spring]

"Abigail Sprite, step forward please." The cold, heartless voice of Amycus Carrow rung out throughout classroom. I made my way to the front of the classroom hesitantly, trying to put off an air of confidence, like every single other Slytherin in our seventh-year class had. Even Pansy Parkinson was scared, although she easily masked it with her typical look of disgust across her pug-shaped face.

"Please perform the Cruciatus Curse on this first-year here, as an example to your fellow classmates," he continued. I looked down at the small Hufflepuff student, and immediately stumbled backwards, my eyes widening.

He knew. They knew. But how-? McGonagall had ensured that the identity of my little sister wouldn't get to the Carrows. I knew they were going to use their knowledge of my innocent, Hufflepuff sister against me.

Incredulously, I looked up at my Dark Arts teacher, absolutely horrified. Slowly, I shook my head as if to say 'no.' Professor Carrow's eyebrows raised as his lips formed into a smug smirk.

"Really? Come now, Miss Sprite, you're our best student. Surely you can perform this simple curse on just a first-year. You don't even know her, do you?" His tone seemed false, and the question he asked mocked me with every word. Suddenly, his face darkened, and he spun around to face the class. "Listen here, students. Disobedience will not be tolerated in this classroom. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to do it." He turned back to me, and smiled with a vicious, maniacal grin, before screaming, "Crucio!"

My little sister fell to the ground, screaming in pain. She writhed on the floor, howling and scratching at herself with her fingernails. "Abby! Abby!" her little voice cried out to me, screeching and crying on the floor of the classroom. It was all I could do to force myself to stand there and not attack Professor Carrow, but when he finally did release her, I collapsed next to my little sister Ashlyn and held her close to me, glaring up at my teacher, fury raging through me, blood boiling.

"How-how dare you," I muttered to him, still comforting the little first-year Hufflepuff girl curled up in my lap, quietly sobbing while holding onto my waist, just like we would do when we were younger and she tripped on a rock while running through the fields behind our house.

"Detention, Sprite," he said, as if he didn't have a care in the world. I took several shaky breaths, the words collapsing in on me. Detention. Everyone knew what happened in detention. They tortured you, dug into your soul and taunted you with every good memory, turning it sour and rotten. They physically beat you and cursed you until you stained the floors with your own blood. It was a nightmare come to life, and up until that point I played my part well enough to not have ever received it.

As if in a daze, I shakily made my way to my feet, helping Ashlyn up with me. A couple of her friends immediately rushed forwards to grab her and help her, and I sent them a small smile as they led her away, most likely to the Hospital Wing.

Sighing deeply, I sat back down at my desk next to Blaise Zabini, my best friend, and rested my head on the desk, hiding myself from the world, dreading what was coming tonight. Blaise simply rubbed my back softly, which was kind enough of a gesture to ease my terror just slightly.

Never before had my world been so dark, never before had I felt so alone. Being springtime, the world was typically filled with laughter and joy and new life, flowers blooming and snow melting away, the sun bringing light into everyone's lives. But with the curtains drawn shut over all the windows and Hogsmeade visits banned for all students, there was nothing to remind us it was that joyful time of the year. Everyone was miserable. Everyone was alone.

***

It was springtime again. The Battle of Hogwarts had passed, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone forever. The scars, however, remained, fresh and strong, and as March withered and died and April began to bloom, the memories began to come back, haunting all of us.

The first day of April was cold and cloudy. Dew covered the ground like a blanket, and the chilly dawn air froze me to the bone as I stepped outside onto the balcony of my bedroom. The Non-Appararition enchantment my parents placed on our house didn't extend to my balcony, so I frequently used it as an escape route to go and visit friends. Today, I was doing just that. But not in a way you'd expect.

The soft pop of Apparition sounded out in the crisp morning air as I turned on my heel, feeling that familiar sensation of being sucked through a straw.

Landing shakily on my feet, I looked around, practically overwhelmed by the fog in the cloudy morning. Slowly creeping forward, I found the tall, iron gate upon me, which I opened and slipped inside.

Sucking in a shallow breath, I pressed forward, through the lines of graves and tombstones set before me. There was no hint of life anywhere, which I liked. When I went to mourn, I didn't want there to be other people around. It was too uncomfortable for me.

It took a couple of hours to find what I was looking for in the large cemetery, and by that time the fog had begun to disappear, making the area a lot clearer and easier to find my way around. Gripping my bouquet of tulips tighter, I approached a tombstone that had not been noticed since it had been placed there, eleven months ago.

Biting my lip as not to cry, I kneeled down in front of the grave, squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could. My hand shaking, I placed the bouquet of tulips in front of the stone tablet, which read:

ASHLYN MARIANNA SPRITE

2 APRIL 1986 - 2 MAY 1998

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," I whispered, tears sliding down my face. "It's all my fault, Ash."

Springtime was supposed to bring new life and joy and happiness. I was beginning to forget what happiness truly was, and the gloominess of this spring, one year after the end of the war, wasn't helping.

"I-I know spring was always your favourite season, Ash," I choked out, laughing bitterly. "You always loved dancing through the meadow and picking flowers. Tulips are your favourite, I remember that. That's why I brought them for you." It seemed silly, talking to my dead sister, but it almost felt like she was there, silently thanking me for the gesture.

"We all miss you, Ash. Mom and Dad. We still can't get over how you-" I choked on a sob, shuddering from the memory as I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs, "-sacrificed yourself for Lon - Neville. You stood in front of that snake, practically fearless." I smiled again, sadly. "We're so proud of you, Ash. Never forget that. We love you so much."

I kissed two of my fingers and rested them on top of the gravestone, just like we would do to each other's foreheads as kids. With a sigh, I stood up quietly.

I began to make my way back through the cemetery, wiping the stray tears from my eyes, just thinking to myself. The clouds overhead had begun to move out of the way, the sun beginning to peek out and light up the area, although it wasn't very significant.

Not really paying any attention, I suddenly collided with someone, throwing me off-balance and sending me falling back onto the ground with a thud. "Ow!" I yelped, glaring up at the person who'd caused me to fall.

A familiar redhead leaned down, holding out a hand to help me up. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, one eyebrow raised. Grasping George Weasley's hand, he helped pull me up to my feet. "I tend to make the ladies faint and fall to the ground in desire and awe."

"I didn't faint, Weasel, I ran into you," I snapped, unintentional annoyance in my voice. His face turned sour before he pushed himself around me. Instantly I regretted what I said. He was here to mourn someone; it was hard enough for him already.

"Hey!" I called out, him already a decent distance away. Slowly, he turned around. "I-I'm sorry, that was heartless of me."

"Yeah, yeah it was," he replied solemnly. We stood there for a few moments, awkwardness settling in the stagnant air. He cleared his throat before continuing, "Would you care to join me? I'm usually never alone when doing - anything, really."

I nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. Following him, we came upon a small grave in the very rear of the cemetery. A small girl with brown hair was already there, sitting in between two of the graves, using her wand to create small flower wreaths in front of the tombstones.

"Hey, Elle," George said, startling the small girl out of her thoughts. Her head snapped towards us, eyes wide.

"Oh, hi, George. I was just...you know..." Elle gestured to the flowers, before completely losing it and running into George's arms, sobbing.

Confused, I looked around them, reading the two graves she was referring to.

The smaller of the two read:

FREDERICK GIDEON WEASLEY

1 APRIL 1978 - 2 MAY 1998

MISCHIEF

The other one was a decent amount larger, with a small angel statue on top of it, which read:

JENNA MARGARET CHASE

15 MAY 1980 - 2 MAY 1998

GREETED DEATH AS EQUALS

My heart plummeted. I knew Fred had died in the war, I remember seeing him in the Great Hall, surrounded by his family. But Jenna, bubbly, energetic, extravagant Jenna, who could survive a lethally cursed necklace, couldn't have died. No. No.

The sun above disappeared behind the clouds again, the spring air turning cold again. Rubbing my arms, I cursed under my breath, really beginning to hate springtime. I wasn't sure why, but it felt good to blame all of life's problems on something that wasn't living, something that couldn't fight back, like a season. It was spring that killed my sister, not my cowardice. It was spring that killed Fred and Jenna, Lupin and Tonks, Dumbledore and Snape.

It was this damned season that did it all. It likes to mock us, believing that it brings joy and life, but no. All it does is bring death and destruction and horror.

"It's our birthday today," George said, pulling Elle away from himself. "Fred and I always spend our birthday together, pulling pranks and just hanging out. I'm not going to let this stop us." He bent down, pulling some candies out of his pocket, before setting them down next to the flower wreath Elle had conjured. Absentmindedly, I rubbed the nasty scar on my shoulder from the one detention I received last year.

"Here are some new prototypes that Lee and I are testing, Freddie. Test them out for us on some first-years, will you?" He smiled sadly, drawing back from the tombstone.

I wonder if he'll ask Ashlyn. The sudden thought pierced through me like a knife, and I gulped down a sob, trying to show off that air of confidence that came so easily during school last year. However, this time it didn't fool anyone.

"Abigail? Is something wrong?" Elle asked, concern written across her face. She used to look so much like her know-it-all sister, but as they got older, the differences had begun to be more prominent. In that moment, however, she looked so much like her twin that I nearly reeled back in surprise.

"Um, well..." I trailed off, uncertain. The clouds in the early morning sky seemed to get thicker as the sun further hid itself from us. I didn't really know Elle or George all that well, but the burden of the blame of my sister's death was nearly overwhelming. I needed to get it out there, to someone.

"My sister...Ashlyn...died during the Battle of Hogwarts," I began, my voice cracking as tears sprang back up into my eyes. Elle's eyes widened in realization.

"Wasn't she that Hufflepuff first-year you refused to torture last year during our Dark Arts class?" she asked. I nodded silently.

Taking a few shaky breaths, I continued. "During the battle, You-Know-Who's snake was about to attack Neville; this was before he had the Sword of Gryffindor, mind you, and Ash, she just threw herself in front of Neville. I was right there, I could've done something...I could've saved her..." I couldn't continue. The memory was still too fresh, it was too horrifying. For the past year, I'd been suppressing those memories, those last moments of her life. And now I was revealing it to people I barely even knew.

As George and Elle enveloped me in a hug, I buried my face into George's chest, letting the burden begin to fall away. "And ever since then, I-I've been trying to blame her death on other things. Anything to make it seem less real. I even blamed it on spring," I laughed bitterly.

We stood there, all three of us together, each of us having lost someone so dear to us. George lost his twin, Elle lost her best friend, and I lost my little sister. It felt so relieving, knowing I wasn't alone this spring, that there could be joy in the darkness.

I smiled, my eyes still closed as we stood there in a quiet circle. Suddenly, light began to filter through the lids of my eyes. Opening them, I looked up, seeing that the sun had appeared out from behind the clouds, and a soft, cool rain had begun to fall, a kind of rain only found on the best days of spring.

"Thank you for listening to me," I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. "I know I'm a Slytherin and all, and you all don't really like us, but thank you for caring."

George sent me a half-smile. "No problem. And yeah, while I think all Slytherins are filthy gits, you aren't so bad."

Elle quickly covered her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her laughs. I grinned and shook my head, playfully punching the redheaded boy in the arm.

After that, we sat in a circle in front of Jenna and Fred's graves, just talking. We talked with each other, we talked to Fred and Jenna. And while we knew they were gone, there was a feel in that cool spring air that felt like Fred, Jenna, even Ashlyn, were all there, sitting and talking with us.

Springtime had begun to feel like a curse. I had thought for two years that spring was just a mockery, that it made fun of us by saying that it brought new life and happiness. But in that moment, when there were actual people who cared and showed me that I wasn't alone, it started to feel like there was a happiness to springtime.

[2489 words]