L O S S
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Though the girls had only planned to stay a couple of nights, the sun continued to rise and set, and their sixth day at the Potter house began. She had no fear of overstaying her welcome. Besides, each time she mentioned leaving, Mrs. Potter would laugh it off and invite her to stay another night. The woman loved James's friends, and when she wasn't spending her time fretting over the six of them, she was constantly muttering about how Fleamont should have arrived home a day ago.

"Probably just doing extra work, always volunteering to help, he is. One of the reasons I married him, he does have such a good soul. I shouldn't worry so much, right dear?" Mrs. Potter questioned nobody in particular as she paced around the room. Her hands brushed nervously on her shirt every once in awhile and she continued to mumble to herself, "He'll probably send an owl soon. Yes, an owl."

The infuriating argument between Freya and her own parents was tucked in the farthest, barren corner of her brain. She no longer reflected on it, and it had been nearly two days since she gave it any sort of thought. However, the letter that waited for her on the kitchen table on that early Wednesday morning was what brought reality crashing back in.

The neat, cursive handwriting of her mother familiarly decorated the outside of the crisp, white envelope. She hesitantly picked it up and flipped it back and forth once or twice. Finally, with a slight sense of annoyance, she peeled the flap backwards and shook the envelope until a folded piece of paper fell from its grasp and onto the wooden surface.

Azure eyes skimmed over the crimson ink of one of the many pens her mother kept in a ceramic, unused coffee mug on their kitchen table. The letters formed words that were pieced into sentences that caused her slightly sunburnt cheeks to move as her jaw tightened. A rather aggravated sigh was all that followed.

Dear Freya,
Your father and I have done some thinking over the last few days, and we have decided that we would like to hear you out. If you agree, we'd be perfectly happy to have an adult conversation with you about this magic at the house.
We miss you, and we are so terribly sorry for making you feel as if you are in the wrong for anything you've done relating to Hogwarts, magic, and so on.
Love,
Mum and Dad.

Freya's thumb subconsciously pressed with such pressure against the fragile paper that it crinkled along the edges. Her eyes skimmed the ink written words at least three more times with mild surprise. The letter was the last thing she had expected, as her parents had never sent her one of such content before. The usual mail from them included news, gossip in their family, or a birthday card. This was obviously nothing of the sort.

"—Have decided that we would—" The muttering of Remus could be heard from behind her shoulder as he read the letter to himself. She attempted to ignore him, but as he was right beside her ear, it became increasingly difficult.

"Do you mind?" She finally snapped with such annoyance that it came out almost harshly. Her grip on the paper ceased and it fluttered from her hand and landed on the tablecloth covered wood that her elbow was propped on.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, not entirely sure what he had done to receive such an irritated comment. His coffee colored eyes blinked as he stopped himself from saying an equally rude comment. It was then that he realized his murmuring was what was putting her off, and it wasn't because of him necessarily, but the idea of her meeting up with her parents to discuss the subject she always lost at with them — magic.

"Oh, sorry," he paused awkwardly, wondering how to ask her if she was okay without setting off her temper again. His worrying was unnecessary though, for as his apology rung through the room, the ice in her frigid eyes turned into a melted puddle of lighter blue.

However, just as she was about to apologize as well, a rapid, loud knock sounded at the door. The kind of knock that caused all heads to turn in the direction of it, even if there was a wall to block the view. It left the couple unwilling to even peek out the blinds and check who the guest was. In fact, all they did was stay rooted to the floor and to the chair.

Three more quick raps echoed through the entrance room next to the kitchen, followed by the hurried footsteps of Mrs. Potter from where she rushed down the stairs and up to the oak entrance. If Freya had been the one to open the door, she would have defiantly taken a short glance through the cracked blinds first, especially with the manner of the knock, but Mrs. Potter did no such thing. Sunlight streamed through the room and onto the floorboards as the door creaked open.

"How may I help you?" Her polite voice could be heard from the short distance the pair was away. Lily, James, Sirius, and Peter slipped quietly into the room.

Whatever the visitor was saying was not audible, as his sullen voice was so low that it could not even reach the best of ears. After almost half a minute, Mrs. Potter's left hand grasped the door for support. Moments later, the woman let out a loud cry before sinking down onto the floor in the entrance.

Now that the visitor was not blocked by the woman's wide body, a stout man wearing a melancholy look and dull robes could be seen. He had a greying mustache that almost hid the shameful frown that crossed his face as he watched Mrs. Potter, who was pounding her fist against the door with such emotion that tears formed in Freya's eyes, although she had no clue why.

James immediately pushed aside Sirius and ran to his mother, almost colliding with a small table holding a glass bowl of incense on the way. With no hesitation or delicacy for his body, he fell to his knees beside Mrs. Potter. His arms held onto the woman with confusion as she cried into her son's chest, "Oh J-James. It's your father!"

The bespectacled boy seemed to need no other explanation, for as the words reached his ear, his body abruptly froze.

The unknown guest shifted and raised his chin to the sky, "Your father, your husband, he passed fighting until the end."

Sirius did not bother to wipe the single tear that trailed down his sculpted face away. His only concern was comforting his friend, and he was determined to do so. Only one stride was made before Remus latched onto his friend, knowing that James and his mother needed to be together at that moment. The ebony haired boy would have plenty of opportunities to comfort his best mate, but what he needed at the moment was his mother.

It was a strange feeling, but as Remus held the struggling boy back, he felt like this wouldn't be the last time he did this. A war was coming, hell, the war had already started. It painfully dawned on him that holding his friends back from their pain might be a frequent occurrence.

His grip eventually let go when the timing was correct, and Sirius practically fell in front of the door with the two remaining Potters, their circle of four never to be completed again. Freya said nothing, nor did she shy away from the sweaty, shaking hand of Remus that enveloped her's. Silent tears trailed down her face as Mrs. Potter's cries became softer and raspier.

And then it stopped. Twenty minutes, twenty long unbearable minutes went by before it did so. The man at the door had long since apparated away. Lily, who was accustomed to taking charge of difficult situations, had not even known what else to do beside put a kettle of tea on to warm with the help of a frowning Peter.

It was then that Freya turned to see the letter still perched on top of the table, and her heart tugged. She looked at James and was met with the heartbroken face of a boy who had lost his parent, and she immediately knew that if she was to face to same thing, she wanted to at least say her goodbyes.

Logically, she realized she should attempt to talk it out with her parents, before something like what she had just seen happened again. After all, fate appeared to hold the whole Wizarding World between its cold fingertips, and they all seemed to be damned.

She apparated to the Bradberry home that night with shaking hands that struggled to maintain their grip on her luggage, and tear stains on her freckled cheeks.

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AUTHORS NOTE
wow thank you so much for 60k !!! also thanks for being patient through my hiatus.

qotd: weeks until summer break?
aotd: twoooo