Chapter 2: Do You Believe In Magic?
Hillary's funeral was a private affair with only a few close friends and neighbors in attendance. After hostessing a potluck memorial dinner and listening to fond reminiscences of her aunt, Clancy found herself alone and despondent. She collapsed on the sofa, sobbing until sleep brought temporary respite from pain.
The next day dawned as the most wretched day of Clancy's life. Already thoroughly dejected, Clancy decided to indulge her misery further by taking stock of her life. Through a blur of tears, she somehow managed to locate a notepad and pen and began jotting down random ramblings and self-appraisals.
THE UNBEARABLE DULLNESS OF BEING ME
WHO: Me.
WHAT: Depressed!!!
WHEN: Right now, and most likely forever.
WHERE: Here. In hot, stinking, boring Pasadena.
WHY: I don't know. Fate, I guess.
PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT: Jean Brodie Middle School, 720 North Slunkin Court, Pasadena, California
JOB DESCRIPTION: Lowly assistant choir teacher. Underling to the great Miss Brightman, whom everyone considers a better singer and teacher than I -- because she is, dammit!
FRIENDS: A small, cherished coterie, bless them!
ROMANTIC PROSPECTS: Dismal, disappointing, few and far between.
AGE: 27
LOOKS: On a scale of 1-10, a 7 at best; after a complete beauty makeover, 7.1
SEX APPEAL: None, apparently. Oh, enough to merit an occasional wolf whistle or lingering stare, I suppose. Men just don't seem to appreciate a sharp tongue and moodiness. Can't imagine why.
OTHER PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS: Ordinary dark blond hair, ordinary green eyes, ordinary height and weight. In other words, just plain ordinary.
GOAL IN LIFE: Stop crying.
Listing her grievances distracted her for a time, but only delayed the inevitable task ahead. As executrix of Aunt Hilly's estate, it fell to Clancy to decide what to do about everything -- the clothes, the furnishings, all of her aunt's personal items. What right did they have to exist without their owner? Clancy groused bitterly.
By late morning, she worked up the nerve to go next door to Hilly's house. Clancy slipped in through the back, and made her way to the bedroom. Upon her death, Hilly had instructed Clancy to find a purple hatbox decorated with glittering gold moons and stars that would be on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. Clancy found the hatbox, now almost gray from decades of dust, and coaxed it down with the aid of a coat hanger. She transferred it to the bed, sneezed three times, and carefully opened the lid. Clancy found a sealed blue envelope marked "Open Me First." She began to read the letter inside.
Dearest Clancy,
What the devil are you crying for? It's only death -- not really the end of anything, is it? Now pull yourself together, girl, and try your best to read my words with a clear head.
You know that I've never lied to you. I may have concealed the truth now and again for safety's sake, but I always tried to be straightforward. I'm telling you the truth, now.
Are you sitting down? Good. There's no point in beating about the bush any longer, so here it is: I am a witch, or rather I WAS a witch. Now that I'm dead, I don't really know what I am, but as soon as I find out, you'll be the first to hear.
The contents of this hatbox should help to confirm what I am saying. Actually, I've been telling you about magic since you were little. Do you remember all the wondrous stories you used to beg me for when you were a child? Well, they were all true. As you grew older, you stopped listening, so I stopped storytelling. It all boils down to Puff-the-Magic-Dragon Syndrome, as I like to call it. Muggles (non-magical persons) stop believing in magic once they cross the threshold into adulthood. I watched with great sadness as this happened to you, my dear.
Oh, Clancy, it's difficult to put one's thoughts on paper and get everything to come out just right! There's only time to rectify a few things. I hope you won't be offended when I point out that your life seems to be going nowhere. Not that I'm blaming you. I managed to make a mess of things myself once, so I am certainly in no position to judge. Still, my darling niece, you've always had a tendency to over-analyze things, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. Should you find love, take my advice, and jump in head first! The result's the same, whether you've planned everything or not: Either you get your heart broken, or you don't.
My one regret is that you and Severus never had the chance to meet. You two are much alike in many ways. I've been in touch over the years with the headmaster of the school where he teaches. Severus is a full professor now. (Did I tell you that already?) His life hasn't been a happy one. My marriage to your Uncle Ziggy contributed to his problems, I'm afraid. I wish this weren't true, since I've always loved Severus as if he were my own child -- just as I love you.
Well, there's not much more I can say, except LIVE your life, Clancy -- and enjoy the ride!
Here are instructions for what must be done:
1. Go to the kitchen and grab a bite to eat. You're looking a bit peaky.
2. Give my budgie Gertrude, to Mrs. Lawrence across the street. I've always thought they'd be a good match. She'll need someone to watch over her.
3. Donate my clothes and belongings to charity, keeping whatever you like for yourself.
4. DO work on your high notes. You always tend to get screechy around high E.
5. Cry your last tear, remember all the fun we've had, and visit your friends to get your mind off things.
6. Here's your final, most important task: Contact my dear friend Albus Dumbledore to inform him of my death. You'll find his address and further instructions among the papers in this box. DO NOT CONTACT SEVERUS DIRECTLY. It's best to let Albus handle things in his own way.
A thousand treacle kisses,
Aunt Hilly
P.S. Don't be alarmed if you find a photograph that moves. It's only magic -- you'll get used to it!
Trying to absorb the letter's shocking disclosures, Clancy could barely stagger to the kitchen. Had her aunt been joking? Had Hilly's mind started to wander before the end? Clancy didn't think either explanation made sense. She decided simply to follow Hilly's first instructions until she had time to think about the others.
Clancy forced down a glass of Ovaltine and two hard-boiled eggs before carrying Gertrude in her cage across the street to Mrs. Lawrence, who was elated to receive the bird.
"That's enough for one day. I'll get to the rest of the list tomorrow," Clancy said aloud, on her way back to Hilly's. "I'm all alone now, so I may as well get used to talking to myself."
She gathered up the hatbox and its still-unexplored contents, then returned to her own home, wondering how Hilly's letter could possibly be true.