On the first day, he can’t get the image of Voldemort out of his thoughts. Whenever Cornelius closes his eyes, all he sees is glowing red and evil. There’s bacon and sausage for breakfast, but he just has a cup of tea to settle his stomach and tells his wife that everything will be fine.
On the third day, he denies culpability. After all, it’s not his fault for being unaware of Voldemort’s return. No one should expect him to believe the word of a child and an eccentric old man who has turned Hogwarts into a breeding ground for Muggle-influence and ignores the majority of wizarding tradition.
On the sixth day, he hears the whispers follow him as he walks through his Ministry. Wherever he goes, there are murmurings about War and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When he tries to arrange a meeting with the French Minister, Cornelius is told that he’s ‘in a meeting’. Owls are returned to him unopened and floos are closed to him around the world.
On the eighth day, he grudgingly accepts responsibility for not being prepared despite the warning signs. He is reminded of his fourth year at Hogwarts when Professor Slughorn caught him with a stolen bottle of firewhisky. He was forced to drink it all until he got sick, and, to this day, gets nauseous even smelling it. Instead of a bottle of alcohol, he’s forced to say ‘it’s my fault’ until his stomach rolls and the words spill automatically from his lips.
On the tenth day, he feels like he is sleepwalking through life. He continues his daily routines that have been set into place for years, but he can feel the beginning of the end. It’s evident in the whispers, in the looks he receives when no one thinks he’s watching, in the editorials printed in the Daily Prophet, in the way he’s ignored by those who previously sought his attention and approval, and in the way no one meets his eyes.
On the twelfth day, Cornelius stares in the mirror and barely recognizes the man staring back at him. The power and pride he possessed not even two weeks ago has been lost to the dark circles of worry and the fatigue that has worn him on him daily. There is conversation in the hall outside of his office, congratulations and welcome to the man many believe will bring an end to this war before it begins, and he realizes that no one has told him good-bye.
On the twelfth day, he turns his back on the man he’s become and finishes packing up his office.
End
Twelfth Day
Story Notes:
Oct 11, 2006