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Heather couldn't face Dumbledore any longer so she stormed out of hisoffice, running to the bathroom crying her eyes out. She bent over asink sobbing and rubbing her eyes as her hair hung down into the sink.She felt angry at herself, she felt angry at Dumbledore and she feltangry about everything in her life. She turned on the taps and splashedher face with water. She looked up at her reflection in the cracked paneof mirror."Harry?" she said to herself pulling up the fringe to reveal thelightening bolt scar.Suddenly her eye was caught by a certain part of her hair. Among her jetblack, shiny long hair was a tiny white blonde streak. Her breathingbecame panicked as she removed it and held it up to the light. Her eyesclosed tight as her hand formed into a tiny fist, clenching the littleblonde hair and her teeth gritting in an unnatural rage. Something badwas happening to her.***November rolled on, freezing temperatures rising rapidly and eventuallytranscending into December and before. Alexander and Melinda were doing the home equivalent of, "Are we there yet?" They started right after breakfast with, "Are they here yet?" We must have heard that at least a hundred times in less than four hours. With their arrival came blessed relief.Betty looked at us and a range of emotions played across her face like the views of a hologram seen from different angles. It wasn't difficult to read. I had seen them before. Looking at the five of us, a happy, if noisy, family seemed to bring her a unique kind of pain. She knew, but for her own actions, it could have been her in that portrait instead of Karen.She had seen both Karen and me with the look. Betty said she would give anything to be the giver and recipient of the look. She had come to terms with her actions over these five years, but the look and the fulfillment Karen and I represented this day would pain her until the day she died.She said it softly, but Karen and I could hear. "This could have been mine."It was wistful.
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