Chapter Text
"Ellymae, darling," Mrs. Meredeth began. She took her daughter's hands in her own as they sat across from one another at the kitchen table, gently stroking her thumb over Elly's knuckles. "Wilford—your stepfather—and I have decided to move to be closer to his family." She paused, green eyes scanning her child's face.
"Mother, they live in England…you can't mean we are to move there?"
Mrs. Meredeth's brow furrowed slightly, "His parents are both ailing; he feels that it is his duty to care for them."
Elly's stomach sank. Nothing could have prepared her for this news. One moment, she had been riding high on completing her sixth year at Ilvermorny, looking forward to what the Summer would bring; the next moment, she was questioning her entire future. Everything and everyone she had ever known had lived within a 200-mile radius of her home, her school, the lovely path she'd always take to her Charms class, her dear friend, Edith, her aunt's apartment that she had grown up in… and now she would be torn away from all of it.
"Elly, I am sorry this is so sudden…"
"When? When would we leave? Would it be sometime next year?"
Mrs. Meredeth leaned closer to Elly, "Before autumn. In two weeks."
Elly diverted her gaze from her mother to the wall of the kitchen. Her teeth grazed the inside of her lip. A bitter lump in her throat prevented her from responding for a moment.
"So I won’t return to Ilvermorny." She asked, finally.
"You'll be transferring to another school, Elly." Mrs. Meredeth tightened her grip on her daughter's hand, "There's a wizarding school in Scotland that—"
"Why didn't you ask me?" Elly's voice caught.
“I sent an owl to Headmaster Locket about a month back.”
"You what?”
“We wanted your transition to be as smooth as possible.”
"Why did no one bother to let me know sooner?" A hot tear trickled down her cheek. She pulled her hand away from her mother's grasp, stood up, and stepped out of the kitchen. Her footsteps were heavy as she trudged to her bedroom.
✦✦✦✦✦✦
The early morning air drifted through the open window, the thin drapes fluttering in the light breeze. The smell of baking bread and coal smoke filled the small, minimally furnished bedroom. Elly lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling, looking up at the small cracks in the plaster, her eyes following their jagged lines. So much of her life had been confined to this room, but that life was over now.
Elly pulled the hem of her soft, white bedsheet up to her eyes, wiping away her tears. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest; her slim fingers ran through her frizzy, chocolate-colored curls. Slowly, Elly slid out of her bed; she had already wasted enough time crying. She was leaving soon. She needed to get ready. She neatened the covers of her bed and turned towards a wooden chair in the corner of her room. A light blue, summer dress was draped over the back of the chair; it was slightly frilly, yet sensible. Small, black polka dots decorated its powder-blue fabric. Beside the chair sat a pair of white, leather boots; ankle-high, with white laces and pointed toes.
As the fabric of the dress enveloped her body, she smoothed the skirt and straightened the cuffs. The hem of the skirt hung about three inches above the floor, and was scuffed and slightly discolored due to the dirty streets of Manhattan. It was her favorite dress; she had worn it every summer since her mother made it. She sat down in the chair and pulled her boots on, nimbly tying the laces.
Elly stepped over to the dressing table. She peered into the mirror; her eyes were still puffy from crying. "No one is going to care anyway." She picked up her hairbrush and quickly swept her hair back. Her fingers worked quickly as she arranged her curls into a neat, braided bun. She gathered her various toiletries, which were scattered across the table, and placed them into her trusty satchel. Brown and weathered with engraved leather—It was a rather small bag, so Elly had charmed it to increase its capacity fourfold.
Her wand rested on a simple, oak nightstand next to the bed. Elly gingerly picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth, wooden handle. Redwood, ten inches, unicorn hair core, brittle flexibility—loyal, consistent, far less shaken than she was…She slipped her wand into her satchel. She stood, looking at the four, floral-papered walls of her room, before shaking herself from the moment of stillness to turn and close the window. The sounds of the waking city were sealed out as she turned the metal lock. Elly stepped to the bedroom door. As she opened it, she glanced back, her eyes scanning the room. She had everything she needed. She sighed and pulled the door shut behind her.
✦✦✦✦✦✦
Elly was the last to say goodbye to Aunt Beatrice. Mr. Meredeth and her mother stood a couple of feet away, arm in arm, waiting for her.
Aunt Beatrice held Elly in a tight embrace. "I'm going to miss you, dear." Her eyes sparkled with tears, but she managed a small smile.
Elly swallowed hard, "I'll certainly miss you too, my dear auntie."
Aunt Beatrice slipped something into her palm. It was a folded handkerchief embroidered with tiny blue forget-me-nots.
“For the voyage,” she said softly.
Elly ran her fingers over the dainty cloth, "Thank you, it's so lovely. I'll think of you every time I look at it."
"Keep your eyes open,” Aunt Beatrice whispered, pulling back just enough to study her face. “And trust your instincts."
Elly nodded. "I will…I'll write to you. I love you."
"I love you too."
The heat of the summer sun beat down on the crowded docks, mixing with the steam and smoke of the R.M.S “Etruria”—the air was thick and suffocating. The clamor of the crowd, the hiss of the steam engines, the small waves colliding with the stone breakwater—it all blended together, creating a dull roar. They would be boarding soon. Elly finally forced herself to break their embrace, giving her aunt one last smile before she turned to her mother and stepfather.
The three of them made their way to the gangplank—the crowd was so dense, they could barely take a step forward without bumping into someone. As the throng funneled onto the ship, Elly noticed an older woman, her long grey hair partially covered with a brightly colored silk scarf. Her dress was out-of-the-ordinary—old-fashioned, and showing signs of wear and tear; patched and mended. The old woman caught her eye; a warm smile flashed across her face before disappearing into the crowded corridor of the ship.
"Elly, Elly! This way!"
She was ripped from her fixation. Elly whipped her head around; her stepfather stood several feet down the hall, waving his arm to get her attention. She glanced back quickly, trying to catch another glimpse of the old woman, before hurrying over to Mr. Meredeth; the corridor behind her was already empty, but the feeling of being watched lingered.