It was a November night; the sky was an inky black and the moon glowed eerily. Adela Jackson had just Apparated into her living room, home from her job at the Ministry of Magic. She had been working overtime in order to keep herself busy and her mind off the events that plagued her past. The first war against Voldemort had taken so much from her, and the second was now threatening to do the same.


Tonight, Adela had returned home later than normal. She had been planning to go straight to bed, but, before she could make it to her room, something caught her eye. It was a dark blue book in her living room cabinet- one that had been quietly collecting dust, unnoticed by her for years. It was the photo album that Adela had completed soon after graduating from Hogwarts.


She had wanted to perfectly catalogue her memories, and it had taken her such a long time to do so. Adela had written all of her friends requesting pictures that she could include in the album. When she had finally finished it, she would look at it all the time, but now Adela couldn’t remember the last time she had taken it out; she hadn’t had the urge since the war had ended. But the desire to see the faces of her past overruled the voice telling her it was better to just forget, so Adela slowly went over to the cabinet and pulled out the album.


She gently brushed off the thick coating of dust and sat down on the armchair behind her. Bracing herself for the rush of emotions that she knew would follow, Adela opened the cover. Sure enough, the feelings she had anticipated hit her just as she saw the first image.

Adela studied the picture, a lump rising in her throat. The photograph was slowly turning yellow and had folded over at the corners.
“How long ago was this?” she muttered softly, looking at a younger version of herself.


The picture was of three girls, arms around each other, smiling brightly in their Hogwarts uniforms. It was snowing in the background, and each face was colored with the pink that comes hand and hand with winter.


Adela chuckled; she remembered that day. It had been in her seventh year, right after a particularly entertaining snowball fight. It had been the same day that Lily had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with James, and when she had performed a particularly nice hex on a particularly nasty Slytherin.


Smiling at the memories, Adela turned over the picture. She read the words she had printed in her neat handwriting so many years ago.


Lily Evans, Adela Jackson, Beatrice Marks. 1978.


She flipped the picture over again, examining herself and her two best friends. The Adela in the picture had long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that seemed to laugh in happiness. She smiled mirthlessly, looking back upon this; she knew she still had the same long brown hair, but her deep blue eyes no longer twinkled with the joy of life. That joy had died long ago with her friends. Adela had aged; both in looks and in years, but the war had taken its toll on her in other ways.


Beatrice and Lily were both gone. Lily had been killed by Voldemort himself, and Beatrice by his supporters. Their deaths had left Adela alone.


Loneliness, she thought bitterly, has to be the worst emotion. Because when you’re by yourself there isn’t anyone to talk to. When your friends are gone, there isn’t anyone to pick you up off the ground.


Adela turned the page in the photo book. Other faces smiled; hands waved. Dead, dead, dead- they were all gone. One more flip, more grinning people, long dead. She couldn’t take this; tears forming at the corners of her eyes, she slammed the book shut. Adela roughly brushed away the tears she had tried so hard to keep suppressed within her. She longed to forget- the memories of the bad, and even ones of the good. For without the good memories, she wouldn’t feel this hollow ache inside her. This horrible ache caused by the deaths of the ones she loved, the friends who had made her life worth living.


Adela thrust the scrapbook back into the cabinet and headed towards the stairs that led to her bedroom. As she climbed the staircase, her footsteps echoed loudly, mocking Adela and her empty house. She entered her room, and walked straight to her bed, not bothering to change out of her robes. Instead, Adela pulled the covers tightly over her chest, fully clothed. She just wanted to sleep, because in her dreams, no one was dead. In her dreams, she wasn’t alone.


She groaned softly, cursing herself for bringing back the memories she had been longing to forget. Adela pulled one of her pillows over her head, trying to drown out the sound of her own thoughts. But, despite the effort she made, a voice from her childhood came unbidden back to her. She heard her grandmother’s voice, her beloved Nana’s voice, a Muggle woman who had told Adela stories and given her advice on those grizzly and gray days. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her Nana had to say, but the words filled the room, whispering what her grandmother had told her as a young girl.


“Adela, don’t be so sad. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”
“Oh Nana,” Adela murmured into the silence, the tears reforming in her eyes, “is there an end to this loneliness? Is there even joy to be had in the morning? ”


The answer came quickly in her Nana’s soft, comforting voice. A single word that made Adela believe that maybe, just maybe, she could become the girl in the picture again. The girl with the laughing eyes and no cares. The girl who knew that she was strong enough to overcome whatever life threw at her, even loneliness. It was the one word that gave Adela hope.

“Yes.”





A/N: “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning,” is the verse Psalm 30:5 from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) of the Bible.