The Long and Winding Road

The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.

- Virginia Woolf

The Egyptian sun shone down upon a group of workers one sizzling summer afternoon. It seemed as if they were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by signs of ancient civilization, but nothing remotely modern was around, no people, no cities. They appeared to be secluded from the world, in their own tiny settlement, but they could not find escape from the scorching heat. Some sat about, trying to cool down using fascinating-looking magical devices, but that they were suffering was apparent in their low spirits. Others were going through their recent finds, which glittered in the sunlight, while the respective worker's eyes shone like a child's on a holiday morning. Sitting in a rare shady spot, Carrie Dashwood watched all of the activity, still stunned at how normal it seemed even after she had been there over ten years. People were sitting contentedly, talking as if they were in a London café, none of them thinking the least thing odd about their surroundings and of the priceless treasures just waiting to be found. Carrie always felt apprehensive about the expectations of finding artifacts and she could not feel at ease with her surroundings yet. Perhaps, these particular feelings were more acute for her because, though they were all secluded, she was much more so than the rest. She was an island surrounded by a sea of activity, and none of the ships sailing the troubled waters around her seemed able to comfort her.

Seeing a rare friendly face approaching, Carrie stood up and walked over to him. It was Bill Weasley, who had always been one of her favorite colleagues. He smiled when he saw her, and gave her a friendly hug.

"Do you really have to leave?" she asked in an exaggeratedly grief-stricken voice. "Can't you just stay here? You know that I'll miss you."

"Don't act like I'm dying," he laughed. "I'm only going back to London, for a nice, safe office job just like my mum always wanted. I'll come back to visit, and I'm sure you'll be in London a lot next year."

"Fine, I will accept the fact that you're leaving, but if I kill the guy that replaces you, I'll make sure I hex you before they send me to Azkaban." She paused for a moment. "Why would I be in London a lot next year?"

He smiled again. "I'll always miss that you seem to miss what's going on. Haven't you noticed that your daughter has grown up? Hasn't she told you that she wants to go to London?"

Carrie shrugged. "No, Maddie hasn't told me anything about that. You don't suppose... that she wants to go to London to follow you? I know that she likes you a great deal and...."

"No!" Bill interrupted. "I am strictly a brotherly figure to her. She has plans, Carrie. Maybe you should talk to her instead of assuming she'll stay young forever." He looked at his watch. "I'll have to get going. Scott should be by soon with my replacement. I'll see you soon." And with one last hug goodbye, he was gone. Carrie felt like an abandoned child, not sure of where to go now. Apparently, she didn't know her daughter at all, and the only person that she actually got along with at her secluded place of work was gone. The walls which protected her were quickly crumbling and she didn't know how many more blows she could take. Other than that, everything was great, she thought sardonically, looking momentarily at the crystal blue sky above her, then into the great expanse of desert.

In the distance, she could see her boss waddling over to her with a man she didn't recognize. Surely, that must be Bill's replacement, she thought glumly, inspecting him. To be sure, he was not a handsome man, a bit unconfident looking in his demeanor, but she silently thought, in the depths of her mind, that he would do, she might truly get along with him too. She approached them, doing her best to smile sincerely, yet still not managing to look altogether friendly.

"Hello, Scott," she said in her cheeriest tone. She was trying to make a good first impression, but, truth be told, she looked rather more threatening and imposing than she meant. "And you are..." She turned to the stranger and held out her hand.

"I-I'm Edward. E-Edward Ference," he stuttered shyly, looking down at the ground as he took Carrie's hand.

"This is Bill Weasley's replacement," Scott said, a bit dumbfounded by the way Carrie was acting. She smiled as often as you might have seen Voldemort doing a kind deed, he thought, puzzled, coming to the conclusion that she must have been drinking again. "You'll be working with Carrie, so get used to seeing her."

"Yes, you'll be seeing a lot of me. I mean, not a lot of me; it's not like I'll be stalking you or anything...." She laughed uneasily. "But you will work with me, and I'm sure I'll get to know you well. We might even become friends," she continued, and seeing the look on Scott's face added, "Although nothing more than that since it is strictly frowned upon by management." She laughed again. "Well, I seem to be rambling, and I think if I say anymore we shall run out of subjects. We'll exchange views on work and society, and where will we be then? I will know your disposition, and you mine, so we will be knowledgeable about each other and therefore have nothing left to discuss, which would be completely boring.... Just as I have made this conversation. Um... it was great to meet you, and we can continue this conversation later, that is if it could be considered a conversation since I seem to be doing all of the talking."

Scott looked at Edward. "Yes, well, Carrie, she's just a bit...." Then he turned back to Carrie. "I should give Edward a tour... so he can meet other people," Scott said awkwardly, grabbing Edward's arm to lead him away.

"It was... er- nice meeting you, C-Carrie," Edward said, looking at her strangely as he was led away by Scott to get a tour of the site. She watched him walk away, chastising herself inwardly for making such a fool of herself. Why had she smiled so much? And rambled? Clearly, he thought that she was insane, and Scott had thought her behavior odd, not that that in itself was unusual, but she worried about the consequences of her boss thinking she had fallen further over the cliffs of insanity. She sighed rather loudly and went to her tent to take a rest, hoping, and silently knowing, that no one would miss her presence.

* * * * * *

Carrie awoke, or rather was woken up, a short while later. She was not even sure she had been asleep; it was more of a hazy daydream, the sort of feeling one gets when walking through fog, as if one's surroundings have somehow altered even though nothing had changed. Looking around for the source of her awakening, she got up too quickly and bumped her head on something. Squinting through the tears of pain, she quickly spotted Scott, standing near her cot, looking at her peculiarly.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked suspiciously. "Couldn't you have knocked or made some sort of noise rather than inviting yourself in?"

"Well, Carrie, I had to talk to you, and I did knock," he said. "You didn't stir, so I invited myself in. I have to discuss something with you. There's no delicate way to put this- you've been acting oddly, not that you don't always act strangely, but more strangely than usual. Have you been drinking again or having some problem..."

"No," Carrie interrupted angrily. "You know I never drink anything stronger than a good cup of tea. And I'm not having any problems, nothing that's any of your business anyway. It's just a difficult time, with Bill leaving, and having to worry about a new co-worker. In a few weeks, I will be fine. Please don't fire me. I work harder than anyone else...."

"Listen," he responded, frustrated. "You are a good worker, and I won't be firing you. However, I think it would be a good idea if you took a few days off, to go home and spend some quality time with your daughter. She should be home for summer break now, right? Go, relax for a weekend or so, and then you can come back to work, refreshed."

"But..." she interrupted.

"There will be no arguing about this. You can leave first thing tomorrow morning. Tonight there will be a party for your new co-worker, a chance to get familiar with him and have a good time with the rest of the lot here. Then, tomorrow, go home. Think of it as a paid vacation, unplanned and unasked for of course, but a vacation none the less. Your job will still be here when you get back. And take as much time as you need. I'm sure none of your colleagues will miss you very much." He laughed stupidly before leaving her.

She could not believe it. He was sending her off. Even though he said he would not be firing her, she could not help but think this would be the first step to getting sacked. She scowled at the stack of papers sitting on her desk that would need to be completed before she left. And she was expected to attend a welcoming party for the new co-worker. A good time with the rest of the lot my arse, she thought angrily, gathering together her papers and stuffing them into her briefcase. It was more of an excuse for her to have to sit outside, doing work, while everyone else had a great time and interrupted her work. She picked up her briefcase, heavy from all of the papers, left her tent, and headed into the darkness towards a roaring fire, still sullen and most unwilling to have a "good time" even if such an opportunity presented itself. She took a seat, separated from the rest, and, her papers illuminated by the firelight, began to fill out charts and forms outlining what had been found and procedures that had been used. Despite her horrid mood, she felt it would have been irresponsible to leave the papers incomplete, and, at no moment did she feel it necessary to be so driven by emotion as to ignore her work. Watching out of the corner of her eye as others danced and drank and talked, she did not feel as if she was missing anything by not joining in their excessive joyfulness. Instead, she sat with a glass of iced tea, and continued with her work.

She was, of course, eventually interrupted, but she found that the interruption did not bother her as much as it would have if it had come from a different source. Edward Ference, seemingly out of breath, took a seat by her, waving off the protests of the others to stay in the area of merriment.

He looked at her, smiled, and said, "I-I, um, had to take leave of their celebration for me, at least momentarily. It has hardly begun and already I am tired." He paused. "Um... uh... I see you are filling out papers. Still doing work? Why aren't you joining in the festivities?"

"Oh, I usually don't. And these papers need filling out before I leave. Scott is sending me off for a bit of a vacation." She looked down. "But it does not matter. I am sure the others will help you to be acquainted with working here...."

"Surely your papers can be done later. Or someone else could fill them out." He looked back at the others. "No, I think you might be the only one who does work around here. But it is still not such a good excuse. You could finish when you get back."

"The goblins that run Gringotts are very meticulous about paperwork," she explained. "It must be done immediately and filled out to perfection. Trust me- I know from experience."

"Really? What happened? M-maybe you should tell me so that I don't make the same mistake."

"Well, I doubt this would happen to you, and it's kind of embarrassing." She paused and looked at him. She could tell he was going to protest until she told, so she continued, "Ok, but you should know that the goblins took an immediate dislike to me. I think they said I was incompetent or something like that, although you have to remember that I was pregnant with my daughter and slightly absentminded. Anyway, I had just started this job, and attempted to fill out paperwork. No one had told me what exactly to do, so I did my best, and about a week later, the goblins sent me a hat, a very nice one, and I thought it a nice gesture to welcome me. What, with the sun so bright, I thought it would be useful, and so I wore it. When I took it off, my hair came with it, and I have never accepted a present from a goblin again. That is a rule you should always follow. It turned out that they had sent all of my paperwork back to Scott, to be redone by someone more experienced."

Edward laughed. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't be so funny, but..." He paused, suddenly more serious. "So, uh, Carrie, you have a daughter?"

"Yes," Carrie smiled. "Maddie, she's almost graduated. This will be her last year in school. It's hard to be a single mother, and I worry since I can't be with her more often and since she has no real, constant parental figure in her life. This work keeps me so occupied. It will be nice to have a break, to spend time with her. She seems almost a stranger to me." She paused and smiled again. "I probably should not be sharing all of this with you, telling you all of my worries when I've only just met you. I must be boring you again."

"No, not at all,' he responded. "Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Yes, indeed. But it is such a shame that I won't be here to teach you more about the job and to get to know you better. You'll have to learn from the rest of the workers here." She looked at them, with a feeling that couldn't quite be called pity; they were stumbling around in a drunken stupor, like mindless idiots.

He too looked at them with a half-pitying look on his face. "Ah, but I-I'm not exactly new to the job, just to this site. I have been working in Morocco for years, doing basically the same work, but it will simply be a new site, new people."

"Why did you leave Morocco?"

"Uh, well... it is a bit of a long story." There was an uncomfortable pause. "I have to get back to the party now and mingle with other people. It was, uh, nice to talk to you."

"You too," she responded quietly, watching him walk away. She could faintly see a woman walk up to Edward, pulling him to dance with her. He weakly protested, but gave in, and Carrie watched, and laughed softly, as she watched him dance with little grace, bumping into those around him. Suddenly struck by an unfamiliar emotion, Carrie longed to dance, thinking that, though her co-workers were drunken idiots, they were having more fun than she had had in years. However, she struck down the idea as quickly as it came, as if it were undesirable to want to have fun, and buried herself in her papers. Was she really dead to her surroundings? She would not smile, or talk, or even look up the rest of the evening, engrossing herself entirely in the tedious paperwork, sitting alone with an icy demeanor that no one could melt.

The hours passed rapidly-- it was not quite midnight, yet the party had not fully begun. But Carrie finally had all of the papers done, and she silently stole away from the group, pulling her bulging briefcase along with her. Even though she had finished, she resolved not to join in the fun, if it could be called that, she added bitterly. Instead, she stumbled into her tent so she could lay down upon her cot, not even bothering to change before falling heavily on the stiff green sheets. She closed her eyes against the world, and for a moment felt at peace, as if all of the hate, war, and disease had vanished and nothing existed except for the overwhelming sense of tranquility of that moment. Like all things, it disappeared, but she still felt oddly comforted. Little did she know how much she would need this positive feeling as she made her way home, or at least the closest thing she could call a home.

Carrie left early the next morning, before any of the other inhabitants of the site were up. She knew that this would be the perfect time to escape as no one would be recovered enough from their celebrations to be fully functional at such an hour. She put out the last sparks from the fire, which were still smoldering, suggesting that the party had not ended long before she had gotten up. Leaving the paperwork in a conspicuous place where Scott could not fail to spot it, she took one last look around the site before picking up her suitcase. With a faint popping noise, she had disappeared, leaving the site apparently empty, not at all peaceful, but instead oddly melancholy. There was nothing left but the sad sound of silence.