Mochrie Cottage

The small house was built to reflect its owners; quiet, off to the side, and reserved. Within its scattered walls, Geoffrey Mochrie sat in his study, alone and staring down at the parchment before him. He'd spent most of the day working at it... trying to get the wording perfect. His granite jaw shook slightly as his eyes attempted not to water. Across from his left hand, a portrait of his wife and little daughter stared at him. Both had the same big beautiful eyes; although one had never seen him by them... that had never mattered. Now, nothing mattered.
"Ah, my little darlings. What will become of you both when this is past."

He folded the paper and tucked it into the box beside the picture. Taking a deep breath, he rose from his chair and walked through his home. Every room reflected countless memories of the life he had lived with the two women he loved the most. And yet there was another haunting shadow... how it was too end.

On the back porch, screened in by his wife's insistence that a baby Taryn would fall off, he picked up the little box he'd set there that morning. He opened it; revealing a tiny silver muggle device. He was not a coward... having a long history of auror heroics behind him. His eyes closed and he opened his mouth. Soon- it was over and the silence was complete.