It was too soon.

The beasts had been unleashed upon them. Too soon, Diana thought, much too soon to die. A wedding should never be a bloodbath.

Much too soon to die.

It was much too soon for Clara to die. Young and wise she was, much too good to be taken so young. That's what Diana and her friends would forever be: much too good to be taken so young.

Who else perished in the massacre?

She could see their faces: the bloodied face of Mrs. Weasley, her limbs bent at strange angles and eyes peering at something they couldn't see. Mr. Weasley, broken, his face to the floor, unmoving. The beautiful bride, Fleur Delacour, her dress bloodied. The thought was almost ironic: something so pure and unblemished can be tainted so easily. Bill, his scars reopened. Fred and George, together even in death. Little Gabrielle Delacour, her young eyes closed, never to be opened again. Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, finally in a world in which they belong---

The sound of her coffee-filled mug being placed on the table awoke her from her torments.

A coffee shop, she remembered. In a shadowed alley, they had changed into comfortable muggle clothes sourced from Hermione's and Diana's bags. They walked until they found the empty shop, one uncaring waitress inside, light streaming from the windows into the darkened sidewalk.

It was only the four of them now. It will always only be the four of them.

Diana's left elbow hit Harry's right as she sipped from her cup, the scalding liquid burning her tongue. She did not stop. Hermione and Ron sat too, all thinking the same thing: who else is dead?

Diana's eyes shifted to the door when it opened, and two burly workmen sat in a booth across the room, hats covering their eyes. Diana's eyes lingered on them for a moment.

"I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order," Hermione whispered to them, her eyes shifting around the room for prying ears. She, too, lingered on the workmen across the room, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Harry.

"I can," said Diana.

"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might have been arrested already," said Ron. "Let's get going, then, I don't want to drink this much," he added, scowling at his coffee. "Have you got any Muggle money to pay for this?"

"Diana and I have plenty," said Hermione. "I'll get it."

She dug in her beaded bag for loose change, procuring enough to pay and leave tip.

With instinct and speed Diana didn't know she had, her wand was in her hand and pointed at the two workmen.

The two workmen had their wands pointed at them, and Diana and Harry were fast enough to point theirs back. As she looked closer, she saw: two Death Eaters, disguised to look normal and inconspicuous. Their grins were sadistic and mean, their eyes narrowed to the four teenagers.

It was oddly silent, until finally, someone moved.

In one quick motion, Ron lunged to the side and pulled Hermione under the table just as the Death Eaters fired a spell right where they had been sitting. The spells shattered the the bench, raining tile on them and getting dust in their eyes.

"Stupefy!" yelled Diana. She hit the blonde one right in the face, and he slumped backward. The one left standing shot spells at them over and over as they dodged and blocked, ducking from flying debris and chunks of wall.

The waitress appeared from the back room and screamed when she saw them. The Death Eater Stunned her, and she fell to the floor.

"Expulso!" bellowed the Death Eater. Their table blew up, the force slamming Harry and Diana against the wall. Her head hit the wall with dizzying force, but she grunted to her knees, her eyes blazing as she avoided succumbing to pain.

"Petreficus Totalus!" she screamed, and she hit the second Death Eater, and he, too, fell to the floor.

They were plunged into an odd silence, peering at the ruins of the small coffee shop. Harry stumbled to the blonde Death Eater.

"I should have recognized him," he said. "He was there the night Dumbledore died." The man's eyes flicked between them, though his body could not move.

"That one's Dolohov," explained Diana. She moved to the dark-haired one and pulled his hat from his eyes. "And this one's Rowle."

"Never mind what they're called!" said Hermione hysterically. "How did they find us? What are we going to do?"

"Lock the door," Harry told her. "Ron, turn out the lights."

Ron, pulling out his Deluminator, flicked it. The room went dark, and they heard the loud click of the lock.

"What are we going to do with them?" whispered Ron through the dark. "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."

"We just need to wipe their memories," said Harry.

Diana explained, "Normally, I'd agree that we should kill them. Here, though, I reckon it'll look suspicious if Voldemort finds two of his Death Eaters dead in a Muggle coffee shop. We just need to throw them off."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I've never done a Memory Charm, though."

"I have," said Diana.

Hermione nodded and said, "I haven't done one, but I know the theory."

"Alright," said Harry. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and they turned their eyes to the unmoving Death Eaters. "You two, wipe their memories so they won't know we were here."

Hermione and Diana walked to each Death Eater, only a few feet apart. Ron and Harry watched behind them with interest.

Diana crouched down beside Dolohov, his eyes rapidly twitching between her own. She loomed over him, looking into his eyes just as a predator savors the last moments of their prey.

"I would kill you," she whispered, leaning down just a tad so the others wouldn't hear. "I would make you suffer, Dolohov."

She straightened her back. "But not today. Today, I let you live."

She pointed her wand, poking it into the skin just between his eyes, their eyes glued to each other.

She was God today. He was hers to control. His life was in the palm of her hands, and she savored the feeling, the control, over someone who hurt the people she loves.

"Obliviate."

His eyes slid in and out of focus, finally settling dully on the ceiling.

She stood up, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron had already cleared the place up. The tables were perfectly intact, and coffee no longer stained the floor from the explosions. It looked just as it had: plain and normal. They moved the waitress into the back room and propped the two Death Eaters into the booth they were sitting in.

"But how did they find us?" asked Hermione, looking at them. "How did they know we were here?"

"I don't know," said Diana. "I don't know how they found us."

And it made her palms sweat and head ache that she didn't know.

"You--you don't think you've still got the Trace on you, do you?" said Hermione.

"He can't," replied Diana at once. "It's impossible. They might've taken control of the Ministry, but the Trace is governed by something much more complicated. There isn't any way they could've overridden it."

"Where are we going to hide?" asked Ron, panicked.

"Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!"

"Ron's dad said they've put up jinxes against him--and even if they haven't worked, so what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape!"

"Simmer down, now," Diana chided playfully. "There shall not be any fighting of that sort. No offense, Harry, but that's a fight you might not win." He rolled his eyes, and her heart pinched at the mention of Snape. "But, I agree with Harry. We should go to Grimmauld Place."

"But--"

"Hermione, where else is there?" said Harry. "It's the best chance we've got. Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go."

Finally, Hermione and Ron nodded. Simultaneously, they counted to three, and they reversed the spells on the Death Eaters and the waitress. They all turned on their heel, and they appeared on the lane right in front of Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

They raced hurriedly up the stone steps and slowly creaked the door open. The hallway was dormant and dark, covered in thick dust. They stepped inside, lighting their wands as they closed the front door behind them.

The old-fashioned lights sprang to life. The hallway was now blazing with yellow light, illuminating the floating dust in the air. The corners were cobwebbed and collecting with dead insects, and the troll's leg umbrella stand was on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over.

"I think someone's been in here," whispered Hermione, pointing to the fallen stand.

"That could've happened as the Order left," Ron murmured back.

Diana conceded that that could be entirely true, but something else told her that Hermione was right. It was too unsettled, too odd.

"So where are these jinxes they've set up against Snape?" Harry asked.

"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" suggested Ron. They remained huddled on the doormat, the chill erupting goosebumps on their arms. 

Diana took a step forward.

"Severus Snape."

Mad-Eye Moody's voice whispered to them through the dark. Diana's breath hitched at the familiar sound. The familiar sound she never thought she'd hear again.

Now, Harry took a step forward. At the end of the hall by the kitchen door, a figure swirled out of the carpet, up and up until it was fully-formed, dusty and grey, and it flew toward them, faster and faster, blue eyed and silver-haired with empty eye sockets--

"We didn't kill you!" rushed Diana through heavy breaths, her eyes wide. The figure of Albus Dumbledore disappeared on the word 'kill,' and the house was filled with the shrieking of Mrs. Black.

"Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers--"

"Walburga!"

Diana's voice made the woman falter, and her curtains yanked shut immediately.

Their nerves tingled as they hesitantly began walking toward the kitchen, looking side to side for any more jinxes. The sight of the ghostly Dumbledore made her knees feel weak with exhaustion that she had nearly forgotten about. Bestowed upon her once again was the endless weight of the world.

Finally, they entered the kitchen, making sure it was safe to relax. They all sat, resting their heads on the table and closing their eyes.

"You know, no one ever did explain to us why she listens to you," Ron wondered aloud. "Walburga, I mean. Ever since we first met you, you were the only one who got her to shut up."

"The Blacks are one of the most notoriously snobby purebloods," she said, her voice low as if fearing she might awaken something in the house. "They advocated for Voldemort's regime. Even she recognizes the blood of their king flowing in someone else. She noticed it the moment I was brought here."

They finally settled in the drawing room, setting blankets on the floor and couches to sleep. They all settled in, and after munching a Chocolate Frog (stolen from the wedding) each, they all settled down.

When the others were asleep, Diana quietly tiptoed to the kitchen, her bag in hand. She sat, transforming her bag to its normal look, and pulled her mother's diary from its contents.

The dull light of the kitchen was enough the read the golden inscription she had by now memorized.

This time, though, when she tried opening it, it worked.

Unlocked for her was the first chapter of Vera's diary. She read it well.

ALERT: next chapter will be the first unlocked part of Vera's diary! I promise I'll post it as soon as possible, I can't wait to share it with you all!

once again, ignore this if you want, but if you're a new reader and haven't heard, I do have ruins/tlv/diana/vera/tom inspired boards on my pinterest. each has pins that remind me of them, and it definitely gives a better look into how i view them/write them. if you'd like to see, the link is in my bio!