This is written for the We Will Remember Event: ANZAC Day 2018 at The Golden Snitch. I chose to use the character Broderick Bode.

Miriam and Broderick are canon characters. Pearlina isn't.

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Miriam paced around the room with nervousness. The guests downstairs were having fun in the New Year's Eve Party, but she never could after 1996. As conjured bells began to swing and toll, Miriam stiffened and closed her eyes, fidgeting with her hands.

The door opened and a short witch entered the room. Miriam had never seen her before, but she couldn't even ask how she had gotten into her house, much less into this room.

"Miriam Strout?" the witch asked.

Miriam nodded, noting the growing but sad smile on the other witch's face.

"My name is Pearlina Bode," she said offering her hand in greeting.

Miriam gasped but took two steps forward to greet Pearlina. She had heard her name mentioned before, and she always tried to forget that she existed.

"I am Broderick Bode's daughter," Pearlina said. Miriam nodded again, feeling her throat on fire. From her eyes, and from Pearlina's eyes, tears fell. "My mother died last month, you see. I didn't—. I don't have anyone else. My— My father..."

Here, Pearlina sobbed audibly and Miriam, not knowing what else to do, pulled the younger witch into her arms.

Miriam felt Pearlina breaking. She had seen this many times in her years as a nurse. Her cries were quiet but constant, her breathing hitched. Her arms were steady around Miriam's shoulders, but shivers ran through her. Pearlina was trying to hold onto her parents and Miriam felt guilty, so horribly guilty because she lost one because of her.

"I'm so sorry," Miriam called out.

Her whisper was enough to quiet Pearlina. They separated and Miriam looked into Pearlina's eyes. She was crying, albeit in silence now. Pearlina was waiting for something, for anything, that Miriam could say.

She guided Pearlina to the piano bench. There was no other place to sit in this room, and so they both sat down side by side.

Miriam sighed.

"December of nineteen-fourteen was a busy month," Miriam said. It was the first time she spoke of the situation after the court procedures. "I was young. My mother was sick and I wanted to be with her that Christmas. It was my last day before two weeks of vacation. I had gotten Old Vick to cover me and she agreed. She had no kids or siblings, so she told me: have fun, Mimi, and enjoy your mother. And for that—," she rubbed her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in."

Her wife was there, looking at the pair worriedly. "Are you alright, Mimi?"

Miriam nodded and waved her away. Dana smiled and closed the door, and she heard her shout something to some of the guests.

"I should leave," Pearlina said and stood up. She, too, dried her tears. "I don't know why I came to you, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"We're not done, Pearlina," Miriam said. She stood up too. "For my carelessness, your father is dead. If I had done my job, he would be alive with you."

Pearlina smiled sadly. "He was a great father," she said. It seemed to Miriam that the girl had wanted to share about her family, about her murdered father, with someone. And she chose Miriam, so Miriam would listen, even if the words hurt her too, albeit for different reasons. "He would bring me trinkets from the Department and we would hang them in my bedroom. I had a tiny hourglass in a golden chain. It had no sand, but my Papa said it was special. There was also a feather of Thestral. I had a stone that shone like the sea on my nightstand; Papa said it would keep me safe."

Miriam hugged Pearlina again.

"He didn't deserve to die like that," Pearlina sobbed and Miriam cupped her cheek.

"No one deserves a death like that," Miriam told her. Pearlina's lip was trembling and the young witch closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"I tried to contact you before, Madam Strout," Pearlina said. "Mama and I wanted you to know we don't blame you."

Miriam felt something shattering inside her. The tiny crystal box deep within her heart when she had stored her guilt, broke. Like Pandora's curse, guilt ran free once more.

"It was my fault, girl," Miriam said firmly. "I let the Devil's Snare take him because I was selfish. Death Eaters might have sent the plant, but I made his death happen."

Pearlina shook her head. "Ma'am, my Mama and I spoke many times about this. We were there when you declared for the Wizengamot after the War. We listened to your cries as you blamed yourself. When you were taken to Azkaban..."

Miriam shivered and Pearlina tried and failed to smile reassuringly.

"I was there for three months. My punishment should have been harsher."

"No. I mean it, Madam Strout. My mother and I knew you weren't guilty. We felt your magic, we felt the honesty in it. As soon as you showed your regret, you were free of blame from our part."

Miriam took a moment to take it all in. She was being pardoned by the family of the man she helped kill. It felt like waking up and breathing in the fresh spring air after dwelling outside in the cold winter for so long.

"Miss Bode," Miriam said, grabbing Pearlina's hands. "I don't deserve it."

Pearlina smiled. This time, her smile wasn't sad.

"My father was a great man. He taught me to be kind. He taught me to forgive." Pearlina swallowed and she giggled, though it wasn't a happy sound. "He was an Unspeakable because he wanted to understand the world better. Unlike others, he didn't do it for glory. He worked in the Department because he believed the discoveries made there would lead us to an era of peace. My father worked for the Ministry before it rotted, and I will always be proud of that."

Miriam smiled at Pearlina.

"That is good, Miss Bode, but my carelessness—"

"Let me finish, madam." she held up a hand to Miriam's face. "My father didn't deserve to die like that. He deserved to live until he reached old age. He deserved good things, and he was murdered instead."

Miriam bit her lip and tried not to cry at the word murdered. It felt personal. It made her an accomplice.

"He was murdered because he did what he believed was right. He was murdered and it will always hurt me. I will always remember him, and I want him to be remembered for who he was. Madam Strout, do you remember how my father was?"

Miriam shook her head, embarrassed.

To her surprise, Pearlina looked pleased.

"That proves my point," she said softly. "Madam Strout, I don't want you to feel guilty. I want you to remember my father, but not because of his death, but because of the person he was."

"Tell me about him," Miriam said and she sat on the piano bench once more.

Pearlina sat at her side and faced the keys. "He was a pianist, Madam. He taught me some, but I was never as good as he was. Would you like to hear it?"

"I want to hear all about Broderick Bode."

It was the first time in many years since she said the name, and Miriam was happy to see Pearline smiled at that.

The young witch began to play, and the party downstairs was forgotten for a few hours.