Yawning largely, she pulled herself from the pile of blankets and patted her mussed hair down. The calming smell of coffee and bacon wafted down the front hall from the kitchen. Pansy glanced at the front hall, debating whether to approach her grandmother about last night or not, but in the end, her growling stomach forced her to tiptoe quietly across the carpet, down the hall, and into the yellow painted kitchen. Standing at the doorway for a moment, Pansy watched her grandmother hum happily, as she took some kind of bun out of the oven.
“Grandmother…” Pansy approached, remembering the sober and scary woman from the night before. Grandmother looked up, setting the pan on the stove and flashing Pansy a warm smile.
“I hope you’re hungry. We have a big day ahead of us! It’s All Soul’s Day, when you are supposed to pray for those who are lost at the church.” Grandmother glanced at Pansy’s day old travel clothes, “We’d better get you some clothes to wear to church, too. You might be able to fit into some of my old dresses…” Pansy opened her mouth to say that she would never in her life go back to that church but a warning glare from grandmother quickly shut her mouth. With a sugarcoated smile, her grandmother took a plate from a nearby drawer and scooped a few pieces of bacon onto it.
“Breakfast?” Grandmother asked innocently. Pansy scowled and took the plate, stuffing the bacon in her mouth. After a moment of silence in which Pansy chewed furiously, her grandmother ushered her back down the hall and through the living room. After bundling up Pansy’s used sheets, she then shepherded Pansy back toward the kitchen and opened a door that Pansy had not noticed before.
“Stay here.” Grandmother commanded before disappearing into the room. Pansy sighed and sat at the kitchen table. It would probably end up as horrid as yesterday had. Did her grandmother actually think that Pansy would stand for the dirty Mudbloods around her? If they could not stay away from her, she would have to curse them or something. What would her mother”
A tap on the window beside Pansy startled her out of the train of thought. Her mother’s grey owl fluttered outside the window with a note clutched in its large claws.
“Rasul?” Pansy asked the bird. He simply fluttered helplessly and Pansy sighed in impatience. She stood and moved toward the backdoor to unlock it. The lock took a lot of force to turn and Pansy had to jerk the door hard before it would open even the tiniest bit. Rasul fluttered just outside the door, expecting to be let in. The door opened a bit more before the owl could finally fit. He gave a thankful hoot as he flew into the kitchen and settled himself on the counter.
Pansy approached the owl, eyeing the note with anxiety. Perhaps her mother had changed her mind and was already on the way to pick her up? Or had the teachers of Hogwarts finally found a new headmaster and wanted to bring Pansy back to class? With half of the Gryffindor students gone to follow Potter in his stupid war against her father’s boss, Voldemort, it would be easy and interesting to be the rulers of the school again.
With that thought in mind, Pansy took the letter from Rasul. It was her mother’s handwriting, addressing it to her ‘darling daughter’. Pansy frowned. Since when was she the ‘darling’ daughter? She ripped the note open, now quite eager to see what caused it to be sent.
Darling Daughter Pansy,
Your father and I believe that we have made a mistake. I know that this is hard for you to understand, but your father and I have been foolish. We believed in our own powers and that the take-over of the Dark Lord would be inevitable. However, the Dark Lord has us both placed on an incredibly dangerous mission, and neither your father nor I know exactly what will happen in the battle. I believed that if we sent you away, perhaps you would not share the same fate as others. Last night Draco Malfoy was caught by the Order and we lost contact with a dozen death eaters.
The war is not going well, Pansy. This letter is only supposed to be sent if there is no other choice. But Pansy, whatever happens, stay strong.
Love,
Mummy and Daddy
Grandmother bustled back into the kitchen, mildly surprised to see an unfamiliar owl sitting on her counter top and the back door open. Pansy was staring at a piece of paper, clutching it so tightly on the edges that she was shocked it did not rip down the middle.
“Pansy darling, I found a dress.” Grandmother glanced down at the dark blue dress, not at all as horrid as some of the things she had looked at. Maybe Pansy would even like it…if she would only look up from the paper.
This letter is only supposed to be sent if there is no other choice.
Mummy…daddy…gone? Pansy gasped, biting her lip to keep tears from spilling over. She was a pureblood. Purebloods do not cry. She cannot cry. She cannot cry…
“Pansy what on earth is so riveting?” Grandmother laid the dress on the countertop, shooing the owl away from it. Pansy looked up, a hollow glance that showed none of her turbulent emotions.
“They…they…” She murmured, her hands that held the paper shaking, “They’re gone.” Pansy’s eyes misted and she turned her face away from grandmother. Grandmother frowned, not understanding.
“Dear, let’s get you dressed for church. I promise it’ll make everything better.” Grandmother slowly slipped the note from Pansy’s clutched hands and set it on the countertop. She was like a china doll as grandmother gently led her toward the bathroom and handed her the dress. Hollow blue eyes met her own, seeing but not caring as she was gently pushed into the bathroom.
Only a few minutes later, Pansy emerged in the dark blue dress. The belt around the middle and the knee length skirt accented her slender form. Grandmother smiled and pointed toward the couch Pansy had slept on.
“Just give me a moment to get ready then I’ll come brush your hair and we can leave.” Grandmother gave Pansy a soft push and than headed back toward her room, humming a church hymn.
This letter is only supposed to be sent if there is no other choice.
To think about her parents hurt. Pansy sat on the couch gently, not fully aware of her surroundings. They could not be gone. Her parents could not be dead. They could not. Pansy wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them close inside of the unfamiliar dress. The material was scratchy against her cheek and it seemed like forever ago she had just woken up. Had it really only been an hour?
Her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder caused Pansy to look up. There was concern in her blue eyes, closely followed by what seemed like pity. A hairbrush was in her hand and her grandmother tried to smile but failed.
“I read the letter.” Grandmother said quietly, only offering the small phrase before sitting beside Pansy. Pansy simply buried her head into her arms. She could not take this! She was supposed to be seventeen in a few days! How could her parents be at the birthday party if they were dead?
Grandmother lifted Pansy’s face slightly, enough to start to brush her black shoulder length hair. Things were going to change. She might have given up her wand a long time ago but she was certain of this. Grandmother talked quietly of her childhood in the Irish countryside.
“We had horses, a whole herd of them at the farm. I was rather good at riding this one little spirited thing named Dancer. He was a beauty…there…see? Your hair is all brushed, Pansy. It’s time to go to church.” Grandmother stood, old bones creaking, and was glad to see Pansy rising behind her. With a gentle glance every few feet, Grandmother and Pansy made the short walk to the church.
As soon as they turned into the parking lot of the church, Grandmother felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see Pansy clutching her sleeve.
“Why do you go to church with mudbloods?” Pansy’s eyes had lost their hollow look and now gazed at her grandmother in what appeared to be anger. Grandmother was silent for a moment.
“Why would I not go to church with these people?” Grandmother replied, a heavy reminder in the sentence. Her cheerful smile was still on her face, “My Connor knows these people.”
“But why do you not just apperate to a nonmudblood church? There are some of them, I know! It would be better than being choked with the stench of these…these mudbloods.”
“You watch your mouth Pansy Parkinson! I gave up magic a long time ago but I can still wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Why would you give up magic? You’d be just like these mudbloods, stupid and just like cattle!”
Pansy gazed calmly into her grandmother’s red face. Apparently, this was a hot button issue and as the old woman clenched her teeth and tried to calm herself, Pansy smiled slightly.
“I see my son has done a fine job of raising you,” Grandmother spat, sarcasm dripping from every word. Pansy was surprised for a moment but than quickly controlled it.
“My father is a wonderful man and one of Voldemort’s right hand men. He raised me perfectly. You have still not answered my question. Why do you not have a wand?”
“Because I gave up my magic when Connor was killed! There, are you happy?” They were both silent as more of the Muggles streamed into the church. Grandmother glanced at the open doors than clutched at her chest.
“Pansy, I am going to church. It is All Soul’s Day and I must pray for Connor’s soul. I do not care if you go in or not but do not go far. I don’t want you lost.” With that, Grandmother strode toward the doors, greeting the Muggles that welcomed her. Pansy stared after her.
“No wonder she’s not mentioned at family gatherings. She’s absolutely stark raving mad.” Pansy muttered, throwing a few strands of hair over her shoulder. Her haughty glare fell on anyone who happened to look toward her.
Just like ants scampering toward their home, the Muggles flowed into the church in droves. Pansy watched, slightly amused, from the side until the doors closed and there was no one left to send glares to. Her grandmother was inside and her parents were in a place that she could not reach. How could it have come to this? How could things have gone so wrong?
Pansy began to walk, not knowing where her feet led but welcoming deliverance from her poisonous thoughts. Did her father know about the mission when he patted her head to say goodbye? Did her mum even think about not seeing her daughter again? Did they regret it? Did they? With every step, her thoughts grew wilder and more distraught. Soon, she was half running down the sidewalk, past her grandmother’s overgrown front garden, past another street, past a laughing couple sitting on a park bench. Did they regret anything anymore? Did she?
Panting, Pansy leaned against a short wall. Well…at least she was completely lost, Pansy thought before letting out a hoarse chuckle. It felt good to laugh; she should do it more often.
It was almost as if a veil lifted. Perhaps she should laugh more often. Perhaps…perhaps…
Pansy slowly stopped panting, calming herself. The smell of moist earth met her nose and she glanced across the wall for the source. Her eyes widened in shock and then narrowed; it was a graveyard. There was no mistaking it and Pansy glanced at the nearest stone in slight interest, the low wall allowing her to scramble over in the dress without looking like a complete fool. She kneeled and brought a finger to flick away the soggy remnants of flowers that were laid on the grass. Who lay beneath the ground? Was it a father of many or a mother of one? A beloved uncle, perhaps?
Beloved husband, father, friend
R.I.P.