Pride
The world is ethereal when we appear, the ‘pop’ of our apparition trespassing on hushed stillness. Only the quiet, contented hum of the wind, the sweeping rustle of branches and the occasional melody of birdsong could be heard. The beloved grounds surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole that I remember so well from my childhood are covered with crisp, white snow, which rides the rolling hills and hummocks of the land with genteel grace. The trees surrounding us are bare and gaunt, but wear robes of glittering frost even as they shiver. And all around us mist swirls and twirls as if a cloud had fallen from the sky. It is perfect: an unspoiled fairytale.
Squinting into the distance I can just make out the town itself. Light glows warmly, spilling out from within merry rooms full of Christmas cheer. Little puffballs of smoke emerge timidly from crooked chimneys, winding their way upwards to dance with the wind. There are children capering in the snow and, as I watch them, an echo of their laughter glides up the hill towards me.
I wonder why this prospect ever scared me. It feels good to be here, it feels right.
Maria gently squeezes my fingers and I sigh. I cannot watch forever, much as I would like to. My boots scuff the ground below me, and the crunching sound of gravel makes me look down. I am not standing amidst the beauty ivory of the hills as I had thought. Instead, a winding path starts beneath my feet, silver with cold, and frozen so that the encased stones within it shimmer and glitter up at me like thousands of tiny diamonds.
Somehow, I know exactly which dwelling it will lead me to.
The fear returns with this realisation “ the cold, pulsing dread that their door will never again be opened for me.
I start to shake. What had made me think I could do this?
“In your own time, Percy,” a soft voice murmurs next to me. I turn to look at her, and she smiles reassuringly. “We won’t go until you’re ready.”
Well, that pretty much eclipsed all hope of us going at all then, didn’t it. For if there was one thing I was sure about, it was that I would never be truly ready for this!
I sensed, however, that Maria would be much more impressed with a man who didn’t snivel and quail at the thought of facing his family. I was also painfully aware that I had made a big enough fool of myself to be going on with for one day, and was not eager to add to my own embarrassment.
So, steeling my nerves, I tried to see the path below me as nothing more than solid rock, while every thought concerning the reception I may receive at the end of it was unceremoniously evicted from the confines of my craggy mind. One foot in front of the other; lift, place, step... lift, place, step... nothing terribly frightening about that. Gradually, my begrudged shuffle turned into a more confident stride, and I found that once I started walking it was much easier to continue.
We were a long way from the house “ clearly my apparition had sensed that I was not as cavalier about returning to these co-ordinates as I had been when I placed them in my mind. The path twisted and turned languidly as it travelled down the hill, but I found that with Maria’s hand fitted snugly within mine the walk was not as arduous as I had first thought.
After a while, Maria laughed delightedly and raised one hand up to the sky. Little snowflakes were pirouetting towards us, and she delicately caught one on the end of her finger before bringing to my face.
“Look, it’s snowing!” she effused, quite unnecessarily.
“I can see that,” I replied drolly, but inspected the snowflake anyway. I needn’t have bothered; it had melted into a tiny trickle of water by this point and was now gliding down her finger.
I grumped. I had never particularly liked snow, though everyone else appeared to have an unhealthy fascination with the stuff. It reminded me of tears and I had always imagined that, somewhere above me, the sky was crying.
I drew my wand, intending to perform a shield charm that would protect us from the frozen tears, but Maria gasped and put her hand on my wand.
“Leave it be! I want to feel it on my skin.” She laughed in delight and stretched both arms out to either side, twirling around, while her face tilted upwards to catch the flakes. A couple parachuted down onto her eyelids, others onto her lips, while still more were caught by her hair. All at once my breath caught and I lowered my wand; I didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful.
We continued on, after she had returned to my side and twinned her arm through mine, and I realised that maybe, here, now, I didn’t mind the snow so much. I felt my hair becoming sodden with it, but Maria laughed at me and ruffled my hair in return, and I found that the wetness was worth it.
Eventually, though, as all journeys do, ours had to come to an end. All at once I felt as if the house was upon us, my feet seeming to eat up the path left ahead of me even though I was sure I had slowed down.
The Burrow was exactly as I remembered it. Crooked, dilapidated, haphazard, but totally and utterly enchanting. My heart pulsed at the memories it had treasured here, and I wanted to shout and call to the people buried within that I was here “ that I was home.
My voice seized up, however, the words dying before they had left my throat. I couldn’t stop my traitorous mind from bringing up image after image of myself, prostrate for their forgiveness, and they, in return, slamming a cold door in my face.
Even the thought of it caused shame to fill me; shame and humiliation that I had made this journey and suffered all these doubts when there was no hope they would want me back again. How they would laugh at poor, pathetic, pitiable Percy, who, alone and unloved, had returned to the only place he could ever truly had called home. How my siblings would jeer and taunt me with their own loving family relationships still intact, before coldly throwing me back outside.
I could see the scene so vividly in my head, and even as I saw it I knew I could go no further. I did not have much left of me now “ every emotion seemed to have been wrangled away - but I did have my pride. I would not give them the satisfaction of taking it from me.
And yet... I could not envision myself going back. I had come so far, right to the very doorway of home, yet now it appeared I was stuck, unable to turn back but equally incapable of continuing forth. I laughed mirthlessly to myself - typical.
I looked once more at the little cottage. It was so inviting, so alluring to my starving heart. I almost started forwards once more, but again the doubts assailed me. What if they didn’t care anymore? What if they had given me up - a lost cause, a black sheep - and moved on, happy and content with their life as it is now? What if it was only me torturing myself with ‘what if’s’ and ‘maybe’s?
I had no answers. Yet the questions burned on, searing me with their intensity. I turned helplessly to Maria, who moved closer to me and seemed to soundlessly discern my troubles.
“There is an old saying: ‘To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.’ “
She was quiet for a moment, and then met my eyes. “True courage, Percy, is to risk everything “ risk pain, defeat, embarrassment, anger, shame “ risk everything, even when you are unsure of the outcome.” She paused a moment more, and then pronounced more firmly, “A coward would knock on that door only when he is positive he would be welcomed back inside. You are braver than that, I am sure.”
I swallowed and nodded. The most painful part of love was the possibility of not being loved in return. I was certain, finally, of my own feelings “ what remained was only to discover theirs.
I walked the last few paces to the door and raised my hand to knock. Just before my fist made contact with the wood, however, I faltered, the fear within me overriding everything else. Hoarsely, I rasped out, “Knock, you knock... I can’t.”
Maria’s voice was sad when she replied. “I cannot fight your battles for you, Percy. Find the strength.”
I nodded, and closed my eyes. I had known that all along, after all. As I had started this feud, so must I end it.
I reached deep inside me for the memories I treasured. Father, steadying me as he taught me how to ride a broom. Mother, holding me as I wept after my first term at Hogwarts, where older children had thought it amusing to bully me. All of us together at Aunt Muriel’s birthday party, laughing and groaning in turn at the old lady’s antics. Hand-me-down books inscribed with Bill and Charles’s jokes down the margins. Father’s Muggle toys, Mother’s cooking, the twins’ pranks (not always such a pleasant memory), and the laughter afterwards. Ginny on my knee as a baby, and Ron confessing to me, his older brother, that he was struggling in Charms and needed my help. Our family on holiday in Egypt, together, for once.
I felt a peace settle over me as the memories continued. It didn’t matter if they laughed anymore, it didn’t even matter if they sent me away. All that matters is that I am here, and I am trying to make amends.
With that thought floating in my mind, I raised my fist once more and, finally, knocked three times upon the door.
The wait was excruciating; every fibre of my being contracting with tension as the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. My breathing sounded abnormally loud to my own ears, the air rushing in and out of my lungs so quickly I could hardly count the breaths. Darkness tinged the edges of my vision and I thought frantically that I might faint, but a hand entwined itself with mine and I felt anchored once more, tethered to reality by the surety of Maria’s grasp.
Suddenly, a click sounded in the stillness and the door flew open, time speeding by so quickly now that I could hardly keep up. And then none of it mattered, for there, framed in the oak doorway was my mother.
She stared at me, and I at her. Her mouth worked silently, seeming to have no response ready for the sight that had greeted her. She clutched the door handle in a vice grip, and as I looked on, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“Merry Christmas, Mother,” I choked out.
She gave a little shriek, half an utterance of my name and half an exclamation of pure joy, and then she was flying towards me, her arms open.
As I was enveloped within her embrace there was only one thought left in my mind. I was home.