Chapter Seventeen

                                    

                                          
"Wendy, everyone is here, can you please tell us what this meeting is about?" Elizabeth asked, trying to speak over the attendees. 
                          
After a brief moment to wait for attention from the rowdy few, Wendy muttered, "The new order we feared is coming to power, extreme power. They will soon even overpower us... and I think it is best that we conclude this chapter in our lives. The leader has not become public knowledge yet, so there is no way for us to take them down."
                          
There was silence, following by concerned murmurs. 
                          
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth protested. This was all she felt she had in her life besides her family. "You don't think we have the ability to rise above this new association?"
                          
Wendy, not wanting to anger Elizabeth, slightly shook her head, "Look around you, Elizabeth." Realizing Wendy was right, she scanned the room. Every soul in there had grown and aged, none holding the same spark of zeal and energy that once engulfed the room. The embers were dying. Elizabeth often forgot she had remained the youngest member, not taking into account those who were approaching the age of seventy and eighty who had long been faithful to Grindelwald. "There is nothing more for us to do. You have helped us so much, but we cannot go on like this."
                          
Dominic placed his hand on Elizabeth's, "She is right." His skin was pale and sickly.
                          
"So, this is it," Elizabeth nodded. "I wish you all the happiest of lives," she smiled. Slowly, the room cleared out. Her hand impulsively reached for a cigarette, but she had decided to throw them all out after Dominic's health problems had resorted to the need for a muggle doctor. She knew in her heart that the cigarettes were bad for her, but giving them up was harder than anything.
                          
The room was as empty as it had been half an hour earlier. Dominic took the opportunity to make a stop to the toilet, his hacking heard from the table where Elizabeth still stood in disbelief. She couldn't believe that it was all over. 
                          
The loud coughing noises stopped and Elizabeth waited for the sound of the toilet to drain. Dominic had an awful habit of forgetting to drain it. She cleaned up the cups that she had set out for her guests, having hoped they would stay longer. A few of them were smudged, so she preoccupied herself by manually cleaning each glass.
                          
She scrubbed the glass with all of the frustration built up in her body. It felt so hypocritical of her to feel as she did; she never wanted to be part of that organization, yet felt empty when it crumbled.
                          
Elizabeth didn't realize how angry she was until she felt the sharp slash of the glass along her palm. She gasped, looking down at the crimson water, supplied by the gash on her hand. Broken glass splattered the sink. 
                          
She quickly shut off the faucet and began to search for her wand. "Dominic, have you seen my wand?" she called up to him. Elizabeth continued looking, holding a cloth against her draining palm as she retraced her steps. Giving up, she resorted to using the First Aid Kit she stored in her bathroom. It was only ever used for small accidents such as paper cuts or cutting herself with her shaving razor, but she had no idea where her wand was.
                          
"I hope you are finished puking, I need to come in," she joked, pushing the door open. It opened slightly and stopped after a few centimeters. "If you don't want me to come in, there's a lock on the door," Elizabeth furrowed her brows. "Dominic?" She pushed the door with more force and the cloth dropped from her hand. There on the floor, covered in his own blood, was her husband; he was once such strong and mighty man. He now succumbed to the consequences of heavy drinking and poor health, his liver having slowly decayed for years now. "Dominic," she kneeled next to him, attempting to nudge his shoulder to alert him. "No," she whispered to herself as she resorted to using muggle methods of emergency. Elizabeth desperately pumped her fists up and down on his chest, hoping to gain some sort of a beat.