Cruel Children's Chronicles: Pansy

Cruel Children's Chronicles: Pansy

Candy Queen

My father was not only a wizard appointed as one of the Holy Death Eaters by Lord Voldemort himself, but he was also a scientist. A very good one too. Gifted with both money and talent, my father was one of the wizards that gained a lot of respect from fellow wizards and witches. He was the one that got the really big missions within the Magical World.

He was often hired by the Malfoys to do their breeding of dangerous animals that could stand guard in front of their magnificent Manor. Animals that could not be killed by any curse, and did not eat anything other than fresh human flesh. My father also had created the three headed monster that later gave birth to "Fluffy" which, ironically enough, at one time was guarding something very powerful that Master Voldemort wanted at Hogwarts. My father did not know that his dog could have offspring, and it was no easy task to convince Lord Voldemort that he was not on the Light Side.

Because my father would never waste his time doing the Light Side any good. He did, however, get many jobs from people on the Other Side. They wanted him to make it impossible to get into Gringotts, and it was - for anyone who did not manage to do the right Dark spells. They wanted him to put up impossible wards around different important houses, and he did. Apparently, nobody understood that it was a connection between my father and the fact that Dark wizards always were able to break into these houses. My father's dream, of course, was to put the wards up at the Ministry. If he got the task, there would be no Ministry, only a black hole where something once had been.

He was living greatly before everybody got to know that his wife had gone to a Death Eater meeting. My father had not exactly been the greatest supporter of being locked into a group where everything a certain Lord Voldemort said was true and law. But after a meeting or two, he was convinced that nothing else in this world could make more sense than what the Lord himself said. A month after they joined the Death Eaters, the 2nd of January, I was born.

I was a lonely child, with no brothers or sisters. I had a mother who cared about nothing but her own face and a father that just kept on doing different sorts of magic with everything from mushrooms to trolls who accidentally walked by. He could make mice into a helmet made of steel with just a little drop of some potion, and he could easily make any flower into a big dog that didn't eat anything, but needed to be watered once a while, and kept away from too much sun.

But after the first war, my father needed to lay low. The strick eyes of the Ministry were constantly on him, making sure he did no monkeybuisness. My father therefore kept himself and his creations hidden in a room far below the ground. There, in a small room, he became rather mad. Once in a while he got up, looking vivid, asking if we minded being a little more quiet. How he could hear anything, as he had to walk about fifteen minutes straight down a stairway to get to his office, I have no clue. But I didn't realize just how mad the poor man had become before I came home one day after playing in the streets and could not find my mother.

Usually my mother was sitting next to a mirror, looking into it to figure out how she looked when she did different things. Like when she was eating. How was she to hold her hands, how should she look in the face and eat at the most gracious way? She also tried on every little dress she had just to see how she looked - every day. She also stared hard into the mirror, asking first in a whisper, then in a cry: Why did she end up with only one child? And such a ugly child it was! When she realised I was there, her face broke into a fake smile before she said:

"Mummy didn't mean those things, darling. Mummy's just acting for a play." My mother never played in any play but her life. My mother never did anything at all but to look at her own face and say bad stuff about everybody around her.

I was not supposed to walk down to my father's office all by myself, but this day I did. Again and again I called my mother, but I never got any response. The walls were dirty, and the stairs only lightened up by flies that were flying backwards and forwards in small cages. Their desperate sounds made me stop for a while, looking at them. Obviously they were a creation of my father, but still I felt pity for them. They were to live all of their lives in tiny cages lightening up a stairway. Finally I got to the narrow door that led into my father's office. I knocked it, and a light and happy voice replied:

"Do come in!" I opened the door without a sound, and saw my father stand in front of a closet, smiling broadly and waving me over. So I did, and inside the closet my mother stood. She was looking terrified, and her eyes begged me for mercy. I could not dig up any mercy for the woman that had done nothing for me than giving me life. "What do you think, puppet?" My father asked. His very posh London dialect from his early years was almost gone now. His voice was now slurry and he sounded like a sailor picking up words and ways of talking from all over the world.

"What are you planning to do, Father?" I asked him, looking around curiously as I knew this was probably the first and last time I would be down there.

"A test!" my father cried out, his eyes grand as plates. "A test, indeed. A test, my love."

"What kind of test?" I asked, not too interested, as everything else in the room was far more interesting than the future of my mother.

"Oh, yes," my father said, eagerly, as if he wasn't used to questions. "I will now pierce your mother!" A terrified sound came from my mother who had been quiet all of this time, and I now realised she couldn't talk. Probably because of a spell, or perhaps something my father had given her. "You know, teeny piercings?" he said to me, the next generation, who had had both of my ears pierced and my nose. "I will pierce all of her!" he cried out, waving his hands up in the air, laughing. "What do you think, puppet?" For a second it was like I could say that was a terrible idea, and he would not do it. I looked at my mother's crying face, and at her begging eyes.

"Cool," I replied, taking a little candy from a plate next to me. "Isn't that going to kill her?"

"Well, maybe," my father said, looking a tad confused. "Well, honestly, yes. Probably."

"Am I not to have a mother anymore? And you no wife?"

"I've thought about that, puppet! Look," he said, running towards another closet. Inside it was a woman who looked identical as my mother. "Genetics, you know, puppet. Mixing genes, quite amusing." He walked back, and looked at my real mother. "And this one was getting too annoying, don't you think?" I ate another candy. Then, all of a sudden, my father reached out for the door, and slammed it. It was when I saw the door I realised how he was to do this. The door was loaded with large nails, nails that would probably-no, definetly- pierce her.

About two minutes later, my father opened the door, but didn't let me look. Then, he pushed a button and a machine lifted the entire closet up in the air over another gigantic machine. The body of my mother was dropped down into the other machine, which was automatically making sounds and moving as my mother was placed. My father guided me around in his office for a while as the machine was working, and when it stopped he waved me over.

"See, puppet," he said, pointing at the machine. Out came small little chocolates. "You want some?" I carefully took one, and placed into my mouth. Then I chewed.

My mother was much better as chocolate than alive.