TWO: Regret
Elizabeth. Elizabeth Irene Montgomery. What is she to him? A girlfriend? No, school-time visits to Hogsmeade and assorted dates in London do not a relationship make. And yet, she is more than just a friend and classmate. Gideon knows there is a connection. He knows that their relationship transcends the usual bond of friendship. Just a friend? That can’t be all she is. No. Was. That can’t be all she was. Elizabeth Montgomery is dead.
He pulls out the newspaper article again. It has become severely crinkled, and bits have torn off”he has been carrying it around in his pocket for three days. “Thirty-six dead in worst attack since February.” And she was one of them. Gideon supposes he doesn’t have to worry about defining their relationship anymore. She is only a statistic now. A mere memory.
He pulls out the obituary section of today’s Daily Prophet. The obits come twice a week now, sometimes three times, and in their own separate section. Gone are the days when the listings of the dead could fit on one page of the paper. Long gone. He scans the paper, knowing that today is the day her obituary will show up. An obituary that he contributed to at the behest of her brother, Jack. An obituary that was written entirely too early. An obituary that shouldn’t have been written at all, if he had done something sooner...
Elizabeth Irene Montgomery, born April 15, 1954, was killed Tuesday in the attack against the Society for the Defense and Protection of Muggle Rights. She was twenty-one years old. Newly elected Spokeswitch for the Society, she is survived by her father, George, her mother, Catherine, and her brother, Jack. Another brother, Stephen, was killed by Death Eaters nearly a year ago.
Gideon can’t continue reading. The memory of Stephen’s murder was still fresh in everyone’s minds, and now his little sister joins him in death. What kind of a world is this?
He knows what kind of a world it is. It is a world growing accustomed to”no, relying on death. It is a society that is on the verge of becoming completely numb to the news of more attacks, more casualties. They’ve all felt it, Gideon included; the feeling you get when you read the newspaper and are not moved by the description of the war. Does that make you a bad person? He wonders this. He wonders about a society that increasingly cannot even muster emotion for those they have lost.
Of course, it was not always like this. In the first year after He Who Must Not Be Named declared himself openly, Gideon wept for everyone he recognized when he saw their names in the Prophet. A few unlucky schoolmates were first. One of his prefects from Gryffindor died at the end of 1974, when things started to get really bad. His favorite professor from Hogwarts was killed, possibly by the Dark Lord himself. Hell, Gideon even felt a tinge of remorse if he knew a Death Eater that died. The whole thing was a shame. A damn shame.
But it is even worse now. Now, he feels only flashes of sadness, and if a classmate’s name comes up, sometimes he doesn’t even realize it.
He can feel the war sucking the very life out of him. For the past two years it has been draining him slowly. But it has never been this bad. Never been so bad he can’t even do magic. And it’s her fault. No, it’s his fault.
For his downward spiral continues. The day after dinner at Molly’s, Gideon couldn’t tidy up his room. He couldn’t Apparate”again”and he couldn’t even light the tip of his wand. Today it is lying discarded on the floor of his bedroom. Ten and a half inches. Willow. The dragon heartstring cannot help him now.
The worst part is it’s spreading. Fabian felt queasy this morning and looked so lifeless. He tried Apparition twice before he gave up and used Floo powder, giving Gideon a fleeting glare as he whipped up the fireplace. Gideon knows he deserved that look. It is his fault, after all.
He just can’t shake this feeling of guilt. He is the reason Elizabeth is dead. Indirectly, of course, but still. If he had just told her, made her realize how dangerous He Who Must Not Be Named really was... How many times had he tried? And failed?
He thinks about her as he continues reading her obituary.
Marked by a distinguished academic career at Hogwarts (Prefect of Gryffindor House, Head Girl), Elizabeth soon found a passion she truly believed in: Muggle Rights. Rising quickly through the ranks of the Society, she became its youngest Spokeswitch ever just this past January.
And how she had made her voice heard! Gideon remembers those first weeks after she was elected. How she wrote him letters nearly every day detailing her goals and ambitions for the Society. She knew she wanted to lead it one day, and certainly would have had the Death Eaters not gotten to her first.
From day one, though, the job had been marked with difficulty. It was dangerous, even. Sure, she had paid no mind to the Howlers”they were mere nuisances, sent by prejudiced old ladies. But her letters sometimes mentioned more serious threats: death threats, threats against her family and friends, things of that nature. And no matter how hard he tried to make her realize the gravity of these things, Gideon could never convince her to tell the authorities. Elizabeth was nothing if not hardheaded. It was probably why they got along so well.
He recalls one of their recent conversations as he looks at her picture in the paper. It couldn’t have been more than a month ago, when they were sitting at Fortescue’s in Diagon Alley.
“Elizabeth,” he says. “Please let me tell Fabian about this. You know he works for the Ministry now; he can help you. You can have an extra security detail, or something. Just please tell someone.”
She laughs and squeezes his hand. “You’re too sweet, Gid. But don’t fret about little ol’ me. I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He hates her carefree attitude. It makes him nervous. “No, Elizabeth, you do. I’m sure He Who Must Not Be Named has some part in this. He’s behind these threats in some way, and I don’t think you’re safe.”
“Please, Gideon, be realistic. Voldemort has no interest in the Society, and if he does, we have ways to protect ourselves. I’m not threatened by him. I’ll be fine”
Gideon can’t stand the way she says his name so freely. Voldemort. It’s as if she doesn’t even recognize how terrible he really is. Sometimes, Gideon really wants to smack some sense into her. But he knows she would hit back. So he lashes out with his words. “Elizabeth, stop being so daft. He is a serious threat, and you’ve got entirely the wrong attitude about this. Your means of protection, whatever they are, are not enough! Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Why won’t you listen to me?” she demands. She means business now; the gleam in her eyes has hardened and she is sitting forward in her chair. She withdraws her hand from his and she is terrifying. “Gideon, I’m not going to sulk behind some bodyguards or Hit Wizards while the Muggle population goes undefended. I’m not going to take advantage of my Ministry connections when Voldemort is out there every day killing innocent people. They elected me Spokeswitch for a reason: to speak for the Muggles and for all the people that don’t care what kind of blood runs in your veins. And that’s what I’m going to do. If he wants to attack us, let him attack us. It will only further our mission.”
He can’t take it anymore. He stands up, knocking his chair over in the process. “You’re acting like a bloody fool and you’re going to pay for it one day, Elizabeth.”
His words are perhaps too harsh, he thinks as he storms out of the parlor. But she needs to hear them, even if she won’t take them to heart. She needs to know that someone out there is worried for her. And she’ll forgive him. She always does. Come tomorrow, she will act like the whole exchange never happened.
And that’s what scares him.
“Gid?” Fabian calls, jolting Gideon back to the present. He quickly stashes the paper in his pocket as his older brother walks in the room. “Gid, what are you doing in here with the lights off?” Fabian asks, tapping his wand against the wall sconces.
“I couldn’t turn them on this morning,” he says, noticing that the lights are burning a little dimmer than usual.
“Well, you should have asked for help, then,” Fabian says tersely, grabbing a loaf of bread from the countertop. “And the dishes are filthy. I suppose you couldn’t manage to clean those either?”
Gideon feels the ire creeping up inside him. It is about to bubble over. He clenches his fists under the table and growls, “No, I couldn’t. Sorry.” He doesn’t mean it.
Fabian’s hands are shaking and he can’t hold his wand steady. He sighs in disgust and pushes the bread away. “Gideon, I can’t live like this.”
Gideon doesn’t respond, so Fabian continues. “Look, whatever is wrong with you is spreading to me. It’s like a disease. And it’s infecting the Ministry, too, and everyone around us. Three of my colleagues couldn’t conjure their Patronuses today, and I almost got sacked for not being able to do my job. And Molly sent an owl saying that Arthur burned himself using Muggle matchsticks because he couldn’t light the stove. It’s dangerous. What is wrong with you?”
“Why does it have to be me that’s sick?” Gideon demands. “Why isn’t it your fault?”
“Because I can still do magic!” Fabian responds with a desperate laugh. “I can still function as a wizard, whereas you can’t even turn on the lights!”
A terrible silence hangs in the room at these words. Fabian knows he has gone too far, but the Prewetts are notoriously stubborn and not quick to back down from their words. And Gideon knows Fabian has a point. And a good one at that. But he will wait it out. Fabian will cave. He always does. So Gideon just stares.
Sure enough, after one long minute Fabian cracks. “I’m sorry, Gid,” he mutters, sitting down as he hangs his head and runs his hands through his bright red hair. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a lot right now. It’s just... I can’t stand to see you like this, and I’m worried about you.”
“No, you’re worried about your job,” Gideon says, his eyes blazing. He knows he is being difficult, and he hates it, but he’s not ready to be normal again. Not yet. Not so soon after Elizabeth has died.
He can tell that Fabian is straining to be patient after these harsh words. He is balling his fists and biting his lip. Gideon hates his accusation and knows that his brother is genuinely worried. But still.
“Okay,” Fabian says, rising slowly from the table. “Okay, Gid. That’s fine.” His voice is unusually quiet and eerily calm. “I think I’m just going to go stay with Molly and Arthur for a few days and let you sort this all out. I’ll make sure you have food and light and everything, but I think...” Fabian is pacing around the kitchen, rubbing his temples in frustration. He is distracted. “I think you need some time to think about things, or talk to Elizabeth’s family, or something. I don’t know.”
Gideon inhales deeply. It’s not that he wants to sit alone in his flat all day long thinking about a dead ex-whatever, but he knows that Fabian is right. He knows that he will eventually emerge from this tunnel of darkness. Won’t he?
Fabian now seems unsure, though. He momentarily stops his wandering and stares at Gideon. “Am I a terrible brother for leaving you alone? Do you want me to stay? I can ask for time off from the Ministry, you know. It’s not a problem.”
Gideon considers this for a moment, but he can’t say yes. Time off would kill Fabian; his job is the only thing keeping him sane in this mad world.
Fabian seems to read his thoughts. “Or maybe we should get you a job to take your mind off things? You could work at Flourish and Blotts, or the post office, or something that doesn’t require magic!”
Gideon shakes his head. “No, Fabian, just go. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be all right.” Fabian seems to accept his decision after a minute, for he nods and hugs Gideon briefly before heading out the door. He has done all he can for today.
It is quiet again in the kitchen. Gideon takes out the article once more and thinks of his words. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be all right.” Gideon ponders this as he sits in the darkening kitchen. He sounds just like her. He sounds just like her right before she died.
And that’s when it hits him. How hopeless were his endeavors with her! If his siblings have taught him anything, it’s that when people believe in something, it’s damn near impossible to change their minds. How silly he must have seemed to Elizabeth, berating her for not taking her threats seriously. She must have thought him so disrespectful, so mundane. She was passionate. She stood up for what she believed in and it led to her death, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Shame on him for trying to get her to back down. Shame on him for trying to derail her life’s work.
Gideon is overcome by a feeling of regret. Here he is, grappling with his own questions of belief, of guilt, of life, actually, but with nothing to show for it. Nothing to believe in. What has his life come to? He can’t even do magic anymore. No cause, no belief, no Elizabeth, no self, even.
No wonder he feels so terrible.
Remorse, Regret, Redemption by LuthAn
Chapter Notes: Here's chapter two of the saga, where Gideon really has hit rock bottom. Is there any hope in sight? I guess we'll have to wait and see...