Lovesong

Lovesong

8/12/03

January. Evening.

The sky was a clean black floor, splashed with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny, gleaming white stars. The moon was approximately at half. The woman in it smiled back at me.

Its times like this that I really wish I could do magic. Instead of Hogwarts, I attended Hogsmare, a sort of school for squibs, located South of London. Unlike the real Hogwarts, it was only three years, and you entered at approximately age fifteen. This was my second year. We get to learn exciting things, like Potions, the History of Magic and the History of Hogwarts. If we were ever needed in a battle, against say, Grindelwald [how (un)likely!] we couldn't use a forbidden curse, but we could recite ingredients to a sleep potion!

I needed to get out. Cousin Arabella actually gave me the idea - she's the only other squib (close to my age) in the family, and is currently attending Muggle Primary School. They're reading fairy tales, and she asked me to read her Rapunzel.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair..." I whispered aloud with a smile as I tied several yards of yellow-golden coloured old sheets together, in large knots, attached them solidly to my bed, and used them to scale down the two-storey brick house.

"Time to go see my fairy tale princess," I whispered more, and then landed with a soft thud.

I swung my arms as loosely as I dared and marched across the grassy lawns of the Wizarding Community that we lived in. I suspect that no one missed my absence, but that if I wanted to leave out of the front door, I'd have to answer Mum's Famous Ten Questions and I'd rather save myself the trouble this evening. I was just rounding the corner, eyeing the yellowed (magic) streetlights when I heard...

"Filch!" a voice yelled at me.

"Yeagh!" I jumped as if someone had shot me in the back. I turned around to see the very person I was looking for, a beautiful dark brunette with sparkling dark blue eyes (not so much unlike this evening's starry sky) who answers to the last name of Farrell.

"Farrell!"

I'm not quite sure why we referred to each other by our last names only, it was a strange sort of thing, it was as if we were players in Quidditch. Perhaps it was to keep from getting so close to each other, in case we ever had to refer to each other in front of someone else, it wouldn't sound right for us to refer to each other as "Hannah" and...

"Wotcher Filch?" she asks me in her cute accent.

I smile back.

"Wanna do something dangerous tonight?" she asks.

I give her a sneaky smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said.

"No," I smile again and go to her, put my arm around her body, and lean in close. "Take it as a no. Not tonight,"

She pretends to pout.

"Why don't we just take a walk..." I began. "The sky is beautiful..."

She clicks her tongue. "Alright..."

I would like to do something dangerous too, I think. But with Grindelwald out these days - no one knows where he is - I can't risk it. Magic would gain attention, unnecessary attention.

"I got a kitten today, mate," she tells me as we head towards the abandoned park at the edge of the neighborhood. She jumps over a patch of graying snow, just like a little kid.

Walking next to her, I feel my long overcoat hitting the back of my knees slightly. Well, at least I remembered it. Last time we met, I went out in just my jumper by accident.

"Er... yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm thinking of her name as we speak," she smiles again.

"Why not Mrs. Filch?" I say daringly.

She laughs and play punches me in the arm. "You're so bad... that would be too obvious, silly!" I like how she answers my semi-rhetorical questions. "And besides, I want to be the only Mrs. Filch." She smiles and then quickly adds, "Outside your Mum, I mean."

"Right... but seriously, what's the cat's name?"

"I don't know..." she bit her bottom lip and looked thoughtfully at the yellowing streetlight.

"Well, what's your favourite book?" I knew she read a lot. "Or favourite author?"

"Jane Austen is my favourite, of course!"

"Well then name her something out of one of her books!"

"Hmmm..." she looks thoughtful. "While we're using polite terms for cats... why not Mrs. Norris?"

"Mrs. Norris?" I ask. It sounds like a weird name for a kitten. "I like it," I say.

"Really?" she asks.

"Really." I could get used to it.

"Alright, Mrs. Norris it is then." She walks up to me and straightens my short hair. I can tell she wants to kiss me.

"Well... could you promise me something?" she asks, hesitantly.

"What?"

"Well, with all the stuff that's going on with Grindelwald... and you know, Muggles and wizards dying... could you ... um, well, if anything happens to me, could you watch Mrs. Norris?"

I am brought back from my imaginary world, my world of Farrell and I being together forever, living the high life as squid and witch alike, back down to the dangers of living in the Wizarding community, the awkwardness of being sixteen, the fear of something very powerful.

"Yes," I say without hesitation. I'm not sure how long it took me to answer.

"I love you," she says instantly, taking me by surprise.

"I love you too," I answer back. We look around at the same time, and then give each other a very quick kiss.

"Goin' back to Hogwarts tomorrow, mate," she says to me. "We won't see each other for another six months."

"I'll send post," I told her. "And don't do anything dangerous." I say the last part in a high tone.

"Right..." she said. "Nothin' dangerous. You study hard at Hogsmare. And you don't do anything dangerous either!"

I smile. "We should be getting back..."

We separate even though we're going the same direction, and walk back two different routes. I sigh happily and as loudly as I can dare, and strut back, feeling my overcoat hit the back of my knees, as always.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair," I say when I arrive home, scaling up the two story wall into my bedroom. I pull the golden hair in, take off and hang up my coat, and sit on the bed as if nothing had went on that evening. Almost a split second later, Mum dashes in the room.

"See anything weird?" she asks me in her high voice.

"Uh uh," I say, not looking up from my Potions books and barely hiding a smile.

"I thought I heard someone say something about hair, must've been that weirdo Snape passing by. Honestly, he has a kid your age, but he goes about drinking irresponsibly so."

"Musta been," I say, still not looking up from my books.

"Well, study hard," she closes the door.

I smile and see my reflection: a thin English bloke with brownish blonde hair and a scary smile.

"Don't do anything dangerous."

--

Today, my world ends.

In March, I got a break from school and got the shock of my life.

It was a Tuesday morning, and wanted to see her - Farrell that is. I knew she was back at Hogwarts, so I was prepared to use an Owl - not mine but one belonging to the Wizards Post Office (WPO) to send her something when I had a feeling that something was ... wrong.

As I was headed downstairs, feeling slightly numb, Mum turned to me to begin her Famous Ten Questions.

"Hear about that Farrell girl?" Mum asked from the kitchen, where she was tiredly directing dishes to water.

"W-what Farrell girl?" I asked hesitantly. Please let it be her sister, please let it be her sister...

Mum stated Farrell's first name. "Aye, such a terrible thing. It's in the Daily Prophet."

I raced to the living room table and picked up the biased Wizarding newspaper.

Dead.

They said she was going to Hogsmeade to send off OWL post when she disappeared and was later found a hundred miles south.

"Don't do anything dangerous."

I could hardly breathe. I needed to leave.

"G-going off Mum!" I chocked out, and pulled the door open so fast that it nailed my arm.

"Mrown..." said something on the stairs. A grey and brown kitten stared up at me.

"B-bugger off!" I hissed at the cat and shot out of the door.

"Mrown," it stated simply.

I rolled down the street, the beginnings of spring wind hitting my stripey jumper.

"Mrown." I turned around and noticed that the cat was trotting after me.

"Bugger off!" I yelled at it, feeling tears go down my face. It was so early in the morning that no one was out, and I hoped that no one saw me.

"Mrown," It meowed lowly. I turned back to it and knelt down.

"Look, cat, I don't..."

A gleaming silver tag informed me of the cat's name.

"Mrs.... Norris..." I read in a low whisper. "M-Mrs. N-norris..."

"Mrown," she licked my fingertips with her dry cat tongue. Her look almost embodied Farrell's perfectly; it was as if Farrell had been turned permanently into a cat.

"Oh, Mrs. Norris..." I whispered.

The cat gave a satisfied meow, and I loved her forever.