Freedom is coming, and healing is near.
And I shall be with you,
Through laughter and pain.
To stand in the wind,
And walk in the rain.
She stared through the one- way mirror, looking at her little brother. He was playing with his toys, playing without comprehending. She was all he had left in the world. Her mother, gone, in the blink of an eye, killed for standing out, for being different. But she felt guilty for feeling horrible about it; many more would have to deal with much more than she did, in this war. Nothing was fair in war. Nothing could help her bear the fact that innocent brother would never see his mother again.
He was her responsibility now.
“I’m not always going to be here to watch over him,” her mother had told her. “You’ll be what he has left. I’m counting on you to make the important decisions for him.”
She had grown up early, learning to deal with much more than the average child ever did. They held a special relationship, and every year, it would kill her to see his face as she got on the train to leave for school. She understood him when others didn’t, she knew him like others didn’t.
It would always be joyous when she came home for the summer, watching his eyes light up as she stepped off the train, engulfing him in a never-ending hug.
Then, one year, he wasn’t there to give her a welcoming hug. Upon her perplexed look, her mother began, “I have to tell you something.”
Coming from a magical mother, James had indeed inherited the trait. However, due to his autism, he couldn’t control the random outbursts that constantly were escaping him, and his strong, ever-changing emotions didn’t help either. School was out of the question, of course; it always had been. The issue had been growing for a while, and many times, there were close shaves with Muggles. He could be dangerous when in a bad mood, and had nearly knocked his mother unconscious once. Her family had done the best to ignore it, to turn the other way. However, the Ministry had noticed the growing problem and took action, to protect the Statute of Secrecy.
Since then, James had lived at St. Mungo’s, being cared for by Healers, not ever fully understanding where he was, or what he was doing there. His beloved sister only saw him a couple times a year, and it seemed that he was forgetting her. Her heart shattered into a million pieces on that fateful day when he had not been there to greet her, and was never rightfully whole again.
He’s grown so big, she thought to herself, wringing her hands.
A song, the lyrics long forgotten by her, rung at the back of her head. She had sung it to James countless times over the years.
Close as tomorrow, the sun shall appear.
A rainy night, long ago played over in her head. A scared four-year-old, a comforting eleven-year-old. The storm raged on, the thunder playing endless games with the lightning.
The boy cried silently, fearful of the thunder, his tiny sobs barely heard by his sister, who was a light sleeper. She tiptoed over to his room and cradled him in her arms, tightly holding him to her chest, comforting him with soft words. Wait for tomorrow, don’t worry. It’ll be over by then. The sun shall bring day. His tears became fewer as she hummed the hymn she’d learned in church.
Her faith was completely and utterly fake. God was reserved for those who had never felt pain, or true hurt. There was one time where she believed with all her heart, but what was once a focus of her life was now scoffed at by her soul. She was dragged every Sunday to church, but after awhile, she learned to tune it all out.
Freedom is coming
The source of so much joy for other children was her source of despair. She was probably the only one who ever resented the trip to Hogwarts, the only one who dreaded September First.
On her way into the station, he clutched her fingers, barely reaching her waist. A light breeze played with her long hair, sending chills up her spine. “James, I have to go get on the train now. I’ll see you next summer, okay?”
“Summer?” he asked. “Bu’, you said you’d be here fo’ me, a’ways. Don’ go!”
“Sweetie, I have to go to school. I’ll see you again,” she replied, bending down to his level, feeling tears well up in her eyes.
“Then I go with you.”
“No, sweetie, you can’t. Not today.”
Then his tears began splashing onto the concrete. A whistle from the train sounded, and he tightened his grip on her thin wrists. He shook his head numerous times. She reached over and pried his fingers off her arms. “I love you,” she said hopefully.
A look of anger crossed his face. “I hate you!” He crossed his arms and stood defiantly. He doesn’t mean that, she thought to herself, hoping to God that he didn’t. Nevertheless, tears welled up in her eyes as she boarded the train.
And healing is near,
The summer after James had left was the worst. Her mother tried to cheer her up, tried and failed. She signed Hannah up for things, for summer plays, among other things. She got the lead in one, and stood upon the stage, ready to spew out her lines.
There are times, before big moments where you only wish for a couple things. I wish James were living with me. I wish they would understand, give him another chance. You really only need one thing. I wish he were here to give me a hug when I’m done. You want the unreachable, the impossible. I want him home.
She took a deep breath and started repeating her line, her eyes glossy with tears that she would eventually rid herself of.
And I shall be with you,
There she stood, on the eve of her mother’s death. Her light and joy sat inside the room, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the world. She had not seen him for a long time, afraid to draw attention to him. Her mother had been killed because of her, and she was not going to have James suffer the same fate.
She drew in her coat around her as a single tear slid down her face. She stood there for some ten minutes, watching his face filled with concentration as he lined up his toy cars in a single line.
“I’m trusting you, Hannah. You have to watch over him.”
I hear you mum, she thought to herself.
Through laughter and pain,
A memory sparked in her mind. A little boy stood at the foot of her bed, holding a storybook. Beedle and the Bard. “Twee Brothers,” he pleaded.
She smiled and invited him over. She wrapped an arm around him and he leaned on her shoulder as she opened the book with the other hand. It was a story she had told to him many times in life, and had long since memorized it. Instead, she focused on his face.
His big, beautiful brown eyes were enough to brighten anyone’s day. A smile of his would emit light, letting joy into even the dullest day. He appeared younger than most children his age, but was just as mischievous. His fingers were closed around her shirt, holding it for support.
By the end of the story, his eyes had closed, his breathing steady. She could feel his heart, beating in time with hers as their chests rose and fell together. Her own eyes eventually closed and both slipped into a deep sleep.
She could savor that moment, even in the darkest of times. Now, especially. She could not bring herself to go inside, go past the one-way mirror. She could not risk it. She loved him too much. That one memory was her last memory of him before she left for school one year, and he was not there when she came back. It was a memory of which she’d never let go.
To stand in the wind,
Stealing one last glance at him, she turned away. Tomorrow, the sun would bring along with it a different day. A new day filled with hope, hope that this war would soon be over. She hummed softly to herself, absentmindedly, “And walk in the rain.”
A/N: Lyrics are taken and altered from ‘Walk in the Reign’ written by Rory Cooney.