There's no other love like the love from a brother.
~Astrid Alauda
He had thought the day would pass by like any other, fading neatly into the repetitious dance of the sun and moon, still masked by the monotony of what his life had become. But there it was, marked with a small, tentative star on his calendar, in writing that seemed so unlike his own: September 1st. Dennis could remember when he and Colin would count down until the start of Hogwarts, marking each passing day with a large ‘X’ and shouting excitedly as they reached the important milestones.
“It’s the halfway point, Dennis!” Colin would say one morning as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. Or, ”One more week! Just one more week!” Then their mum would pretend to be miffed that they were so excited to leave her, and he and Colin would reassure her and promise to write her every day. But inside, Dennis knew from the way the corners of her mouth could never stay down that she was just as thrilled as they were; thrilled that the impossible was true, that there was real magic in this world.
Dennis remembered when he used to look forward to the first of September. He remembered when the date used to mean something; a symbol of how lucky he was to be a wizard.
But today, he felt nothing. He did not even feel like Dennis Creevey anymore; it was as though his heart and mind had been snatched away, and he was nothing more than an empty shell of the person he had once been. He didn’t feel the usual sharp pang of longing to return to Hogwarts. Just the thought of the school made his insides twist and the backs of his eyes sting. It hurt that he was not welcome, it ached terribly to think that memories of his wizardry years would soon be just that: memories, and painful ones at that. To Dennis, it seemed as though there was hate everywhere now, surrounding and suffocating him. Sometimes he wondered if he really wanted to be a part of this world anymore when it hurt so much. There would come a point, he knew, when the pain and guilt and hate just weren’t worth it anymore.
Huddled next to about twelve other Muggleborn refugees as they circled around a radio full of static, Dennis sat reflecting on how much everything had changed in such a short span of time. He could pinpoint it back to the exact day: one swelteringly hot morning in the first few days of August.
“Dennis,” Colin had whispered urgently, shaking his brother awake. “We’re leaving.”
Dennis had wiped his eyes groggily; they had been at their aunt Ida’s house in Dublin, and he took Colin’s words to mean that they were beginning the long drive home.
And then, in just one sentence, Colin painted an entirely new picture of their departure:
“The Ministry has fallen.”
Fallen. It had taken Dennis a few moments to realise what that meant. He had known things would be different without the protective wing of Albus Dumbledore, and he voiced his concerns to his brother of what might lie ahead at Hogwarts.
“Dennis,” Colin spoke haltingly, his voice growing harsh, “We’re not going back.”
Dennis’s thoughts were interrupted by a collective gasp from the group. “I think we’re getting signal,” one of the boys whispered, adjusting the radio antennae with gentle, caressing fingers. His name was Robbie, Dennis knew, and he had an exceptional gift for working Muggle technology.
Robbie caught Dennis staring and flushed. “Sorry it’s taking so long. This would be so much easier with magic,” he added irritably. Dennis gave him a half-smile, feeling Robbie’s mild frustration almost as though it was his own.
Silence settled around them once again. The boys sat with their tiny ears cocked towards the speakers as they listened with bated breath.
The radio suddenly began to hum and buzz, spitting out a few words at a time. “… Ministry is… students…. mandatory attendance…Hogwarts…”
A dark-haired wizard next to Dennis gasped. “They said ‘Hogwarts’!”
“Shush, Will!” someone snapped. Several of the boys eyed Will angrily, as though his excited speech had robbed them of hearing useful information. Will’s eyes widened as though he had been slapped; hugging his knees towards him, he pressed his lips together as though emphasizing his silence.
“It’s the Public Ministry Report, anyway,” Dennis whispered, feeling defensive of the little boy. “Everything they say is a load of Flobberworm piss.” Will furrowed his eyebrows, quickly forgetting his shame.
“Can a Flobberworm even piss?” he asked curiously.
Dennis shrugged. “Probably.” Turning towards the two boys whose ears were still pressed firmly to the radio speakers, he added, “Any news about my brother?” They shook their heads sadly.
“Sorry, Dennis. It’s just Hogwarts stuff. Apparently, Professor Snape is going to be Headmaster.” Though Dennis had expected this, he could not help but feel a sharp pang of disappointment.
“There would only be something about him if… if the news was bad,” Johnny, the taller of the two boys, said confidently. “So maybe it’s for the best that there’s no mention of him.”
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed, nodding and trying to sound as though he had been comforted. They were all right, these boys, but sympathy wasn’t one of their finer points, not when each of them had their own worries to deal with. They didn’t understand, he knew, why he was so worried about Colin and not his parents. Many of the boys here didn’t have siblings, and the ones that did had entered the secret life in the London Underground together. None of them knew what it was like to have a brother out there, a brother who was fighting in a world of wizards who scorned him.
He had not heard from Colin since his brother dropped him off with this group of Muggleborns hiding in the London Underground, and left to go fight. Dennis hadn’t realized that they were separating until he saw the faces of the twelve Muggleborn boys, eyeing him with suspicion and Colin with detached disinterest.
He remembered the angry, accusing words he had flung at his brother when he realised what was happening: “You aren’t staying.”
“Harry can’t do it all by himself,” Colin had remarked seriously, before hugging his brother tightly one last time. It had enunciated their differences more strikingly than ever: Colin’s need to play his part in the battle had overcome his desire to stay with his brother in a way that never would have happened to Dennis.
Dennis had wondered then, as he did every day, if he would ever see his brother again. He was starving for proof that Colin was out there, alive and fighting. And most of all, he was tired of waiting, waiting for the news that Harry had fallen, that Colin was dead, or that the war had finally ended…
Sometimes it felt as though he was isolated here, in the little microcosm of boys in the Underground struggling to stay hidden and survive. He wondered if they would realize it when the war was finished, or if they would stay here for weeks, even years afterward, apart from the real world.
“Dennis?” Will said softly. “It’s September the first.”
“Yes, it is.”
The boy was quite for a few moments. “Nothing is the same anymore,” he said finally. His voice was solemn, filled with the sort of wisdom that an eleven-year-old boy should not have.
“It will be all right,” Dennis said. He wished he could be more certain, more reassuring to the little boy, but he couldn’t muster up his confidence for anyone else when he had so little to give to himself.
“Dennis?” Will’s soft whisper melted into the air.
Dennis rolled over and wrapped his plaid, scratchy blanket more tightly around his body. “Yeah?”
“What if they find us when we’re sleeping?”
He hesitated. I don’t know, he wanted to say. That same thought had cost him more than one sleepless night. “They won’t,” he answered. “We’re protected.”
“But what if? I don’t know any magic, Dennis.” It was apparent from his voice that this had been bothering Will for a while.
“Well, I do,” Dennis replied. He exhaled slowly, turning his head so that it lay against the cool concrete facing Will. “Me and Robbie and Johnny. And so does Lyle ” it was his older brother that put the protective spells around this area before he left. They’ll hold, and if they don’t…” He swallowed. It occurred to him that he was becoming more and more like an older brother to Will, and he’d never been good at being the older one. “If they don’t, I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. I promise.”
This seemed to satisfy Will; he snuggled against his blankets, and scooted closer to Dennis. “What’s your brother like?”
“Colin?” Dennis asked, taken aback by the question. “He’s taller than me… he’d be a sixth-year if we were going to Hogwarts. We’re both Gryffindors, though Colin’s the real brave one. He got Petrified in his second year by a basilisk.”
Will gasped loudly, earning himself a rude “Shh!” from the freckled boy who lay below his feet. “Why did the basilisk petrify him?”
“Because he’s a Muggleborn,” Dennis answered bitterly, the embers of anger rekindling. It seemed to be the excuse to everything now.
Will seemed to sense the growing tension, and deftly switched topics. “Where are your parents?”
“Ireland, with my aunt. Colin left them a note ordering them to stay before we left… he said if we tried to talk with them they would just end up following us.” He closed his eyes, letting the images of his dad’s round, smiling face and his mum’s loving gaze swirl in his mind for a moment. “They’re safe.”
“I don’t know where my parents are,” Will said softly. “They didn’t… they don’t understand.”
“No one does,” Dennis told him, sighing. “No one understands why this is happening, or what it’s like to hide in the darkness all the time. What it’s like to close your eyes and pretend like the food you’re eating won’t make you nauseous later. Or how every time the radio actually works, the sound feels like liquid gold in your ears.” He let his tears fall, darkening the pale grey concrete of the ground he slept on. “Or what it’s like to wait, just wait all the time until the war ends without ever doing a bloody thing! No one understands that.” Not even Colin, he added to himself.
“Except us,” Will reminded him.
“Except us,” Dennis agreed. Perhaps this was their part in the war.
He turned to lie on his back and closed his eyes. Behind his heavy lids he could see Colin’s face, etched in determined resignation as he waved goodbye to Dennis one last time before turning away.