Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

 There are spoilers ahead if you have never read the books or seen the movie Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, stop reading this and go watch the movie. I have only used the world in to which we are introduced after the credits rolls. This is not fanfiction as I use only the world that is created after the credits roll and my own set of characters. With that being said, please enjoy this work of fiction. 

               Alma sat in the dining room, staring at a picture of her son while stirring a cup of steaming tea. The picture was of the day that he left for his first day at Hogwarts, three years ago. He stood on the platform 9 and three-quarters, trying to lift cage containing his pet owl, a shy grin on his face. It had taken her three attempts to get him to both smile and hold the cage high enough and the last was nearly ruined when the train whistled its final boarding. That year, he hugged her long and hard before reluctantly heading to the train.

She hated the lonely weekends in a quiet house. Every Saturday, they used to go to the movies together and after, eat ice cream sitting on the swings across the shop and talk about the movie. Charlie would always order the bubble gum flavor because he got to chew the gum after.  He enjoyed blowing the bubble until it popped all over his face, even after he got it in his hair and had to have it cut out. He wore it proudly and would tell anyone who asked the story of the biggest bubble he had ever blown.

She mused over the memory as she pulled the spoon from the glass and tapped it on the rim, flicking what little still clung to it back into the cup. The spoon clinked on the china as she pulled the cups to her lips and blew softly over its top. She took one tentative sip, then another, smacking her lips and rolling the liquid over her tongue. After returning the cup to its saucer, she determined that it needed more sugar but, as she reached for the jar someone knocked on the door. She stiffened and waited thinking that she might have been mistaken in what she had heard.

When the second knock came, she sprang to her feet and headed to the foyer but, when she opened the front door the stoop was empty. The knock came again. She closed the front door and looked toward the back where she could see the shadows of two people through the glass. As she neared the door she could hear them murmuring, she peeked through the glass. They were two women dressed in all black robes, one carried a large rectangular parcel and the other wore witch’s hat.  They were about to knock again when Alma pulled the door open slightly.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Alma asked from behind the crack in the door.

“Are you the mother of Charlie O’Malley?” The one in the witch’s hat asked.

“Yes.” Alma said as the hairs on her neck stood up. The two women shared a look.

“Do you mind if we come in and have a chat?” The woman asked nervously.

“What about?” Alma asked

“Well…” The two women shared another look then turned back to her “Something has happened at Hogwarts. May we please come in so we can talk to you about it?”

                Alma’s mouth went dry, her head nodded and she stepped back from the door. The two women stepped into the kitchen. Alma opened her mouth to ask a question but only made a dry squeak. Her face felt flush and her eyes began to moisten. Questions swirled through her mind as the women shook their cloaks from their shoulders and pushed them into a bag that was unburdened by the load. The clothing they wore beneath was as black as the cloaks they had just removed. The woman in the hat moved her lips but Alma didn’t hear the words. She waved her hand across Alma’s face causing her to snap to.

“I am sorry, what did you say?” Alma smiled pleasantly as her eyes glistened with tears.

“Would you like to sit down somewhere and talk?” She asked again.

                Alma could only nod mechanically and she led them into the living room. The room was small but cozy, smelling like a mixture of firewood smoke and dust. Against one wall was a fireplace that had rarely seen use and a mantle that was mostly empty save for a few trinkets. A layer of dust coated the furniture, swirling in the light of the Saturday sun as they sat. The woman with the parcel leaned it against the arm of the couch that they sat on. Alma sat in the chair across from them, watching them take their places.

“My name is Arista and this is Maltina and, we are professors at Hogwarts.” The woman who had carried the parcel said after a pause. Alma nodded.

“As you may have known Mrs. O’Malley, the Dark Wizard Voldemort had begun to amass…” Arista continued.

“Who is Voldemort?” Alma interrupted shaking her head. The two women shot each other a confused look.

“Did you not read the letter home?” Maltina asked shocked.

“What letter?”

“The letter that gave permission to attend Hogwarts this year? It explained the whole situation.” Maltina said.

                Alma began to press her mind for any letter that she might have seen but couldn’t recall one. She was about to call her bluff when a hazy memory of Charlie asking her to sign something while she was busy getting ready for work. When she asked him what it was in regards to he said something about how school can be dangerous. She didn’t give it a second thought as she hastily signed the bottom of the parchment while getting ready for work.

“Just tell me my son is alright?” Alma asked, her voice a whisper as tears began to stream down her face.

“Unfortunately, he was killed when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts a few days ago.” Maltina said in a low voice. Arista clutched at her stomach.

                Alma felt nauseous and the room began to spin. A deep wail came from her chest as she heaped on the floor and began to sob. She felt a blanket wrap itself around her shoulders, holding her tight as she shuddered as the hot tears ran down her pale cheeks. The blanket began to rock her and a lullaby she heard as a child filled her ears. The hysteria began to pass when she felt the handkerchief dabbing the tears off her cheek. Alma opened her eyes to see Arista and Maltina swirling their wands in the air, controlling the blanket around her and the tea set dancing in the air over the coffee table. A duster danced of its own accord on the table and the magazines stacked themselves and floated soundlessly to the fireplace. She took a deep breath and steadied herself with the chair as she rose.

“Where is his body?” Alma asked clutching the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“He was crushed when a spell hit the castle walls, spraying debris inward.” Arista said, wincing. A fresh wave of despair almost sent her back to the floor instead, she clutched her head in her hands and cried out.

“Here, drink this.” Maltina said.

One of the teacups hovered near Almas’ face, she lifted her head from her hands and the cup pressed against her lips. The warm liquid filled her dry mouth, the sweetness of it making her mouth water. She swallowed and the liquid began to warm her body, the shivering and ache began to fade. Her scalp tingled and she closed her eyes, humming her mothers’ lullaby. The blanket gave her comfort as she began to rock in the chair.

“While we couldn’t bring his body back we did bring you this.” Maltina continued motioning to the once empty space above the mantle.

                Alma gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth as she looked at the large canvas picture of Charlie on the Quidditch field, smiling and holding his broom. The Hufflepuff house colors of his jersey made his eyes stand out. He waved at Alma with the bludger in his hand and she slowly waved back at him. Behind him a black speck began to grow in size until, Charlie turned and swung his bludger in an effortless stroke, sending the quaffle back skywards. Charlie slung the bludger over his shoulder and gave his mother a confident grin.

                Alma had never been able to see him play but to hear him tell it, he was the best on the field. In the picture, he looked every bit the part. She felt her eyes well with tears again, her heart filling with regret that she would never see him take the field in real life. She could never again hear his laugh or hug him. The last time she had seen him was when he was heading back to Hogwarts in the fall of last year. He was so excited to get back to school that the hug he gave her was fleeting. She wanted that time back.

“I knew I should have never let him go to that school.” Alma said in a low voice.

“I knew Charlie personally Mrs. O’Malley and he belonged there as much as any pureblood.” Maltina said.

“You should have kept them safe.” Alma said her voice growing in an octave.

“We tried to send all the students to the dungeons but Charlie wanted to fight for the school he loved.” Maltina said.

“Why Charlie?” Alma plead.

“A lot of people perished in the battle, Mrs. O’Malley. This isn’t even our first stop today.” Arista said frowning deeply, tears forming in her eyes. “I have felt the pain of other parents when hearing the news,” Arista continued “they all felt much the same as you.”

“How do you feel my pain? Did you lose a child too?” Alma asked, almost hopeful

“I am an empath and can feel what others are feeling.” Arista said with a weak smile as a tear stood on her cheek.

                Alma scowled and shook her head, again bursting into tears. Aristas’ face paled as she looked over to Maltina. She leaned over and whispered something in Maltina’s ear, and Maltina slowly reached for her wand that hung loosely from her belt. The sobbing had stopped but Alma continued to stare at the ground, her tears splashing the rug below.

“You should all be exposed.” Alma said in a near whisper “If your world can extinguish a child’s life with no repercussions then you deserve to be exposed and put on trial.”

“Please tell me that you don’t mean to expose us.” Maltina said

“She does.” Arista said.

“Second one this week.” Maltina said raising her wand and pointing it towards Alma

*             *             *

                An hour later, Alma sat in the living room. The fire crackled and spit next to her as she sipped the tea from her cup. She didn’t remember making two pots nor, did she recall how the picture came to be hung over the fireplace. Looking at the picture made her calm, the green of the grass in the stadium, the vibrant colors of the people cheering in the stands. She didn’t recognize the boy staring at her with a bat perched on his shoulder but she got the feeling like he was watching over her. The boy smiled, motionless in the frame staring out on his childhood home and the mother who would never remember.