not delicate like a flower, as one might think, but delicate like a bomb. ever since she arrived home, her parents have treated her like she's some. . . . diety. it's weird. she just wanted everything to be normal before she jets off to be trained by an ancient force of magic, the vocar ad feram, or as elara calls her, anya. elara would've preferred if her last days before stepping into her responsibility be fun and filled with nostalgia, but alas, they were not. andromeda and ted would not stop 'babying her and driving her so fucking insane that she might commit arson', as elara so delicately puts it in her letters to harry, ron, and hermione. elara loves her parents with all her heart, but its driving her crazy.

nymphie hasn't been around to cheer up the atmosphere like usual, either. since sirius died, she's been experiencing what some call survivor's guilt. her usual bright, bubble-gum pink hair has turned to a mousy brown. she barely leaves her apartment, only coming over when elara gets down on her hands and knees and begs.

so, elara's summer hasn't been great so far. her nerves have only multiplied, and to top it all off, she's able to stay conscious now during visions. its freaky and almost overwhelming. she's aware of two lifelines at once. she can hear everything around her in the real world and in the dream world. the first time it happened, she passed out. its not exactly a step up from what it had been before.

her letters to harry, ron, and hermione were vague. elara hated not being able to tell them where she's going or why she won't be able to stay in contact with them, but anya had insisted. apparently, elara had grown too attached to the world around her, in anya's opinion, and elara needed to detach herself from it.

the letters from hermione always made elara nervous. every other sentence was filled with worry and it freaked elara out to the point where she just stopped reading them and only responded with letters that had nothing to do with the original. to top it off, hermione wouldn't send any candy, claiming; 'it sounds like you're going to a military esque camp. you best stay healthy.'

ron's letters were more fun to read. instead of concern, ron seemed to be enjoying life. he always found ways to slight elara. when not doing that, he'd send new nicknames for umbridge, rita skeeter, filch, snape, and everyone else the pair of them hated. ron send hordes of candy along with pie packages from mrs. weasley.

in the week before isolation and training, elara most looked forward to reading harry's letters. they wrote each other everyday, sometimes twice, if lucky. she enjoyed reading how the dursleys's fear of harry had multiplied by a thousand, and that they were all terrified of elara. in light of everything that had happened, they would send each other memories of good times.

elara felt guilty. she felt selfish. she was going to die, and here she was acting like everything was okay. it would only hurt harry more if she were to die while they were still together. however, elara could not bring herself to either tell harry or break it off with him. both would hurt her tremendously. so, she decided that she has a right to be selfish for once in her life. if she were going to sacrifice herself to protect the magical world and give her life, she could have one thing to herself.

it was the morning of her departure. elara's trunks were packed with countless books, clothes, charts, and even muggle weapons. she sat on the edge of her bed, cup of iced coffee in her hands, staring at the ground. everything was going to be different. she wasn't a normal girl with only a murky past anymore, she was the savior of the magical world.

elara had decided to keep a journal. in the week before the start of her training, she kept countless thoughts hidden. since she wasn't allowed to tell anyone her everlasting secret, she kept her thoughts written down. it helped with the feeling that she was losing her mind.

in a short amount of time, elara's journal had become her most prized possession. her dream journals were important too, but this felt different. the dreams journals weren't records of her internal thoughts. she hoped to maybe gift her journal to nymphie, harry, ron, or hermione. they would keep the memory of her alive.

nymphie barged into the room to find elara's glass three-quarters full.

"drinking your coffee slowly won't slow down anything."

"i know that."

"do you?" said nymphie so softly that it seemed elara didn't hear. "there's no way out, lara."

"i'll find a way or i'll make one," snapped elara, setting her glass on the nightable with a ringing thud.

nymphie leaned in the doorway as elara turned to the small mirror hanging on the baby blue wall and checked her braids.

"i know you think you have to do this alone, and that you're all misunderstood, but just because you're the 'savior', doesn't mean you have to act like you've been condemned to death."

elara froze momentarily. she was condemned to death. every atom in her body wanted to fall to the floor and confess every secret she's ever held to her sister. she couldn't. she's already cried enough.

"yeah, well, i'm your salvation now, welcome to hell."

"lara — "

"i need to get ready," said elara curtly, turning to face her sister.

"all right then, oh mighty salvation, have fun."

elara was convinced everyone around her, including herself, was going insane. nymphie stepped out of the doorway and her footstep were heard going down the old wood staircase. elara sat back down on the bed. she was just a kid. she had dreams for the future. however, plans change. her future was fighting in a war.

when she could no longer prolong her last moments anymore, she dragged her trunk down the stairs and out the front door. the warm sunshine hit her face. if the weather was reflecting how she felt, it wouldn't be anywhere near a nice, sunny day.

elara felt weird wearing shorts and a normal t-shirt. she felt she should be wearing armor of some type as it seemed like she were boarding a bus to go off to fight on the frontlines of a fruitless war.

a loud, resounding crack caused her to look up from her seat on her trunk. there was dumbledore, at the edge of her driveway, looking as normal as one could in long silver robes in the beginning of july.

"its nice to see you alive and well, elara," said dumbledore.

"i don't know about 'well', but i'm alive," she responded resolutely, trailing her eyes back down onto the pebbled ground again.

"ah. that is as good a response as any."

"especially when your biological mum's a murderer and your biological dad's clinically insane."

"i wouldn't say insane, just misguided."

"sure, and hitler was just a troubled artist," retorted elara, kicking at the ground.

"hm. well, i need to talk to andromeda and nymphandora quickly. i shall be back outside to take you to anya."

elara nodded as dumbledore sailed past her and inside the air-conditioned house. she always wondered how dumbledore always seemed consistent with his behavior and words. if anything, elara's behavior was all over the place. sometimes irritable, sometimes tranquil.

it was an odd thing, death. elara had thought more about death in the past week than she ever had throughout her sixteen years of life. she supposed she always knew she had a big part to play is the grand scheme of life, but she never expected to be the hero who saves the day. she supposed it wouldn't be a terrible thing, dying in battle to protect others, but it was more that she had a loose time frame of when rather than a matter of knowing how. maybe she wouldn't even die in battle.

elara seemed to have lost the ability to care. her reasoning was, 'if i'm going to die, i'm not going to spend my last years giving a shit,' written in the margins of a book about dreams and omens. she wanted her last years, despite being thrown in the midst of a war, to be lived with abandon. she wanted to experience it all. if not caring what others thought of her had to become a centralized part of her worldview, then so be it.

"elara?" came a voice that threw elara out of her thoughts.

"mhm?" said elara, lifting her head up to see ted standing in the front doorway.

"i've been thrown out of my own damn kitchen," he said, moving to take a seat on elara's trunk.

"'m not surprised," said elara, smiling a bit. "dumbledore likes secrecy."

there was a pause of silence.

"are you — "

"okay?" said elara, finishing his question for him. "i really, really wish i could say yes, but i've answered that question so many times that its just — no, i'm not okay."

elara shifted on the trunk. she hadn't really told anyone that she truly was not doing well. everyone had just assumed she was okay with her responsibility. the weight she was supposed to bare was too much. she was just a kid.

"wow — uh, why haven't you told anyone this? why'm i the first one to know?" said ted, tapping on his knee.

elara sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"i thought dads were the ones who gave advice, i guess. i've never really had a dad until six months ago — "

"oh, right."

"yeah."

"well, i'd say that you don't have to be okay all the time. when andromeda and i won guardianship over you, we hoped you would have so much fire in your soul, so that you would put volcanos and stars to shame. even then, we knew you were so much more than a child born with terrible circumstances.

"we raised you to shout, to scream, to hold your head up high for being yourself before the people around you would try to teach you to silence yourself, how to wear shame like it is a second skin. for a while, it worked. you were beaten down by the whispers and stares. but then, you tasted rebellion and you've become the flame that's started a revolution."

"what — "

"the point i'm trying to make is this," said ted confidently, "you don't have to be okay all the time. you are our spitfire. fires don't burn brightly constantly. they flicker, die down, and are sometimes reduced to nothing but a few hot coals. all it takes is a little push, a little motivation, some fuel to bring the flame back to its former glory. you just need a push."

elara processed everything that had just been told to her inside her head.

"that makes. . . . sense, actually. thanks, dad."

ted smiled.

"women like you drown oceans. you can do this. i know you can."

elara didn't respond. she didn't need to. she wrapped her arms around her dad and fought back the tears that had been threatening to spill the entire day. no more crying, she told herself, don't fall back to the place you were in three years ago.

"are we ready to go?" came andromeda's voice, approaching the front doorway.

"i believe we are," said dumbledore from right behind elara.

she jumped.

"yeah, we're all good," said ted, pushing himself up from his seat on the trunk and shaking hands with dumbledore.

andromeda swept elara up into a hug, mumbling how much she's going to miss elara into her unruly mess of black hair. nymphie had to pry elara from andromeda, only to wrap elara into an even tighter hug, leaving elara gasping for air when released.

"i'm not going to be gone that long," said elara grumpily, smoothing her hair down.

"we know," said andromeda, wiping a tear from her cheek, "but you're going to a far away place and we can't communicate with you. . . ."

"i can assure you that anya will take excellent care of elara," said dumbledore, gesturing that its time to leave. "there is ancient magic protecting loco veteres. no one can get in without anya's permission."

"what is anya like, exactly?" said nymphie, crossing her arms.

"we've only met once before. elara could give you a better analysis of anya than i ever could."

all heads turned to elara simultaneously.

"er — hi. um, well, it kind of depends on how i was feeling. the first time, i was scared, so she presented herself as unassuming and kind of soft. the second time, however, she was dressed like she was going off to war and acted kind of like 'tough love' almost," she said, screwing up her eyes to try and remember the warrior she talked too almost five months ago now.

dumbledore held his arm out too elara.

"now, i must wan you, apparating for the first time is not pleasant. just hold on tightly to my arm."

elara reached out for his arm and in an instant felt dumbledore's arm twist away from her and re-doubled her grip: the next thing she knew everything went black; she was pressed very hard from all directions; she could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around her chest; her eyeballs were being forced back into her head; her ear-drums were being pushed deeper into her skull.

they landed gently on a hilltop. as soon as elara's feet hit solid ground, she fell and painted the hillside with her vomit.

"ah, that is a very common reaction. do not be ashamed," said dumbledore, almost amusedly.

"you couldn't've told me i was going to throw up? we had more than enough time!" said elara, annoyed.

"time. time is a very fickle thing, elara. it is a man-made construct to give us a sense of stability," said dumbledore vaguely as he waved his wand to pick up elara's trunk that had been turned on its side.

elara grumbled the entire trek down to the cottage on the cliffside. for once, she wanted an adult to be frank with her. no puzzles, no riddles, no funny stuff. unfortunately, that seemed improbable. she hoped that maybe anya would cut the bullshit.

with each step elara took towards the cottage, she felt calmer. like she was coming home after being away for so, so long. she'd never felt this before. with each step, she grew more and more excited to begin her stay and training.

maybe this won't be terrible, thought elara, maybe i won't be afraid anymore.

like the last time elara was here, power was brimming at her fingertips. again, it was like something was inside and was begging to be let out. she clenched her hands in an attempt to stop whatever was happening. she remembered dumbledore telling her that whatever ancient magic was out there deemed her extra ability should be fire.

she once again stepped through a cute metal gateway into a small garden. the garden was brimming with mysterious plants and creatures. they were all harmless.

anya was already standing outside. she was dressed normally this time. no flowy dress or warrior clothes. she seemed almost normal in her patched jeans, apron, and dirty white shirt. her red rubber boots were caked with dried mud. in her gloved hands she held a plant that strongly resembled basil. elara wondered how someone so powerful could seem so normal.

"albus," said anya all businesslike, setting the basil plant down to shake dumbledore's hand.

"what a pleasure it is to be here again. i've always enjoyed this place," said dumbledore jovially, gandering at the glowing plants and scurrying animals.

"yeah, the vibes are immaculate," said elara sarcastically, before she could stop the words falling out of her mouth.

anya raised an eyebrow.

"what's up with her?"

"i would assume the normal teenage anger, but then again, she's been starved of information," said dumbledore conversationally, as if he were a parent relaying the latest interesting thing their kid has done.

"no. . . . something about her is different."

"ah, well. i shall leave you to figure it out. i have found that i am terrible at understanding younger people. elara, i shall return in a month with harry."

"harry?" elara's head sprung up to look at dumbledore.

"young love," was all dumbledore said before he apparated away.

anya stood, surveying elara for a moment. elara shifted her weight from foot to foot. she didn't like the feeling of being observed and being figured out.

"i want you to cast a patronus."

"wha — why?"

"do as i say," said anya authoritatively, albeit annoyed.

"no, tell me why."

"cast a patronus. now," said anya, emphasizing every word.

elara huffed and drew her wand. it was difficult to think of a happy moment as elara was angry at herself, others, and the world. she chose when harry told her he loved her. she focused on the bubbly feeling that she felt and closed her eyes.

"expecto patronum."

elara opened her eyes and expected to see her hungarian horntail patronus burst out of her wand, but instead, saw a four-legged creature that cantered around her until coming to a stop between her and anya.

"my patronus is — "

"a doe. the counter-part to the chosen one's. its exactly as i thought," said anya, tearing off her gloves.

"what — anya!"

anya had pushed open the door into the house and was already inside. elara sighed, picked up her trunk by the end, and dragged it into the somewhat familiar cottage. anya was sitting at the end of the wooden table, steeping tea, looking slightly distressed.

"what's wrong with my patronus changing?" said elara, setting down her trunk with a large thud, rubbing her hands.

"there's nothing wrong, i was hoping it wouldn't happen as soon as it did."

"wait — so its inevitable that my patronus would change?"

anya looked up.