My heaven was never the average one. In fact, after it was polluted by my actions on earth it had become a grim looking reality.

It was a lonely place where I lived in solitude. I spent the majority of my time wandering the empty streets and searching for answers to unanswerable questions that I had never had the wit to ask myself on earth. The odd thing about living in any heaven (for there are multiple ones) is that no one ever sleeps. The second phenomenon of such a place is that whenever I please, I could follow the lives of those on earth.

Borgin, an old and close schoolmate, was my constant target on Earth. When I first came to my dull demise he was the person my revenge spiked towards. Over the years, my anger lessened, and I began to think of him in a slightly more positive way. If he hadn’t ended my life all those years ago then I would have ended in an even worse place than my own heaven. I almost felt a twinge of pity when I thought of how horrible an afterlife old Borgin would have to suffer through.

My tale begins with the fact that the week before the new-year begins, the two realms –that is the earth and all the heavens- collide. Heaven’s ghosts can cross over and communicate with those they’ve lost. In the years past I have never done anything of the kind, but this past year I did. I could never completely move on past the incident without confronting Borgin about it.

An important aspect to my personality is my lack of courage. It’s a fact I have long ago come to terms with. So with this trait in mind I faced my obstacle as immediately as possible, making the journey down to earth on Christmas.

The shop had looked like it had all those years ago. It was several sizes too small with odd objects cluttering grimy shelves.

Out of habit I had floated along the ground, moving my feet in the rhythm of walking. Without opening the darkened door, I entered the shop. Without looking around I had known my murderer would be in the office we had once shared. The office where he had killed me.

“Burke,� Borgin had breathed several moments later as I floated through the closed office door. My old friend’s skin had steadily grown paler.

I had nodded in recognition, suddenly lost for words. But then, so many words had come to the tip of my tongue that I didn’t know where to begin.

The comforting thought at that particular moment was that these words belonged to me. They always would be mine, and even after I returned to my lonely heaven these words -these opinions- would still belong to me. I had never known that feeling before this moment.

“You killed me.� Looking back, I’m not sure whether it was the edge of coldness to my voice or the realization that I wasn’t a hallucination that had startled Borgin. Yet there he had stood, with a wand in his hand as if that would offer him protection against a being from heaven. Now after he had killed me, there was nothing he could do to harm me.

“You committed suicide. I was- I am terribly sorry about the incident. I almost sold the store because of my remorse,� recited Borgin. I guess he was trying to convince himself of the incorrect fact. I watched with forming pity. His eyes had been closed tightly, forming creases around his eyelids.

“No,� I returned with a threatening echo in my tone. “You used an Unforgivable. You killed me and tossed me out the window, Borgin. You are a murderer and should be in Azkaban for it. You’re a greedy, terrible, selfish, evil…� Somewhere within the long list of adjectives I lost my point and trailed off.

My frustration and anger subsided slightly as I remembered our similarities while I had still been alive. We had been so alike. But now, I secretly hoped within the depths of my unconscious thoughts that I had changed.

Borgin cowered behind his desk. He murmured something about his innocence, a lie that neither of us believed. Hauntingly, I stepped closer towards him, and my purple looking lips tugged into a frown.

“Borgin,� I drawled. My passive personality had never employed the thought of sadistic behaviour, especially towards those whom I had once considered friends. But now, with this sudden feeling of power I felt the attraction to make Borgin truly sorry for what he had done.

My face had grown pale. As a citizen of heaven I could control my physical appearance with practiced ease. Red liquid poured from my scalp, mocking the head injury I had once gained from the book that I knew to be tucked deep within Borgin’s closet.

I repeated the line once more with a raspy drawl, “Borgin…Borgin.�

Borgin’s features grew to a creamy white shade. His idol hands began shaking slightly, but my acting of the event of that fateful night continued grimly.

“Borgin,� I had called, my voice filled with pain and misery. “Borgin, what are you doing?� I whimpered as I allowed my translucent body to collapse to the floor. “Borgin…Borgin, I thought you were my friend.�

Like I had been changed into a light pile of dust, my body was swept away leaving Borgin in dismay.

For the first time since my death a smile creased my face. I floated into the sky, returning to my heaven. And when I got there, I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of sunshine through the angry sky. Perhaps there is still hope for my misshapen afterlife.