The Grave Visitor
This was the fifth time she’d seen him. He wasn’t skulking about, or trying to scare anyone or causing any trouble. He was visiting the grave. And for some reason that haunted her more than any strange dark magic he could have performed.
She shuddered in the cold air and closed the door softly behind her.
Celeste told herself that she wanted to show him she wasn’t afraid. She told herself that she wanted to yell and scream at him and make him feel guilty for what he’d done, but she didn’t speak a word when she came to stand beside him. It was really curiosity mixed with a terrible dread and fear for her brother; her Blaise.
Finally he broke the silence, but his words were so soft and choked that she had to strain her ears to make them out, “It wasn’t me, you know, it wasn’t.”
“Oh really,” her voice was becoming bitter, hateful, “Who was it then, your imaginary friend or something?”
She tried to calm her breathing, control herself. She wasn’t hateful, she wasn’t like this. He had to be brought to justice, yes, there must be some kind of justice for the witches and wizards, but she wasn’t bitter like this. And then Blaise had made it clear to her that this boy had had no choice, had been forced to do it.
“It was Bella.”
“Who’s Bella, then, your girlfriend?” Looking up at his tall form she found it very hard to convince herself that he could be forced into anything.
“My aunt,” he replied simply, “She would have done much worse too, if she hadn’t been called away.”
There was a long silence that seemed to stretch forever. Celeste didn’t really know what she was doing standing here beside a killer who was also her brother’s best friend and who could, if he wanted to, tear her to shreds. She wasn’t afraid, though, not really. Besides, she was a witch too, wasn’t she? “Why do you come here then?”
“Because I held it in my arms,” his voice was cracking slightly, but she saw him trying to hold up his head and keep that sneer intact. She wondered if they taught them the sneer at that Wizarding School, “Because it still haunts me.”
Suddenly he turned his head away, just a little bit, and she fought with a strange impulse to hold him in her arms and whisper to him as if he was a child.
“Don’t keep yourself awake at night thinking about it, Muggle,” his voice was harsh now, and cold, “I’m just haunting you like a good Dark Wizard would do. Don’t forget to close the door of that hovel you live in or else who knows what the dark might bring in.”
This made much more sense, fit the image she had built for him ever since she’d seen the small innocent child, but for some reason, she didn’t believe it as much. He disappeared with a pop and she looked down towards the small grave to find a tiny red rose. It lay beside the others, all of them looking as if they’d only been in there for seconds. They must be charmed, she thought before she headed back inside.
…
His eyes were red-rimmed when he came to visit again. She had received several warnings from Blaise and she’d been told to be much more on her guard. Apparently something had happened, or the war was spreading, but he sounded very worried and told her to be very careful until he came home for Christmas.
She locked the children up and prepared a note to send off to Blaise’s … mother in case anything happened, but she still went outside and sat beside him on the cold grass.
He was hunched forward a little and his robes were torn in places. She couldn’t bring herself to say any of the hundred biting things that came to her mind like “What did you do this time?” or “Is this your confession spot now?”
She just sat there beside him and studied his tired figure and every one of his movements. The light could be seen in the upstairs window and another rose was sitting beside its sisters. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine, anyway.
“You should be afraid.”
Maybe she was. She wasn’t quite sure. What she was sure of was that she wanted to know what they held over his head. She’d pried that bit of information out of Blaise in a conversation earlier. He had become a little angry and told her to please stop thinking about the bloody git, but she couldn’t really. She had to know what he was being threatened with, if that story was true at all.
He left before she could shake herself out of her thoughts but a tattered green and silver scarf lay forgotten where he was sitting. She picked it up and took it with her inside.
…
The next time he came it was still light outside and it was very windy. Snow was falling, but the children were herded off to bed early and they went without protest because the whistling noises the wind was making were scary and their beds were nice and warm.
“Stop watching him, Celeste,” the kind gentle voice of the only mother she had ever known broke her thoughts, “It won’t do anyone any good. I’m afraid for you.”
“Are you going to stop me from going out there Nana?”
“Goodness, child, of course I am in this weather. Why do you even want to?”
Celeste’s mouth clamped shut. She told Nana almost everything, but this time she didn’t even really know herself. She didn’t really think about it that much, all she knew was that he must be cold out there and she had his scarf anyway.
“He must be cold,” she uttered at last, “Besides I need some ans-”
“What you need is a good telling off, that boy looks like trouble, Celeste, and he’s not the good kind of wizard like your brother either, you know that.”
“Actually Blaise told me they were friends.”
A long silence followed this revelation and Celeste turned away from the window. “He told me that he only joined the bad wizards under threat. His family wanted him to be a killer you know.”
“You can’t save him if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know if that’s what I’m thinking, I just want to understand some things.”
She pulled two small mugs from the closet and began making some hot chocolate. “I wonder what it would be like to have parents that want you to be a killer.”
“I’m going to bed, dear, just be careful and don’t stay up alright?”
“Ok, Nana, thank you.”
“I’m worried about you, about all of us, things are happening it’s all over the news. Just be careful.”
Celeste knew that the kind hearted woman would probably be watching from the window and not asleep. She stuffed the small scarf into her pocked and picked the mugs up, one in each hand. Their contents were lessened and they weren’t as hot by the time she reached the small spot where he sat.
His hands were twisting around each other; he was almost clawing at his palms. She nudged a mug into his hands and watched them tighten around it reflexively. He turned to her in surprise and his eyes almost made her jump, they were full of confusion.
“You forgot your scarf you know,” she said when her cup was empty and her hands free, “Here it is.”
He took it in his hands and she watched as he ran a finger over the spot she had mended. Finally he turned to her and wrapped the scarf gently around her neck. “You shouldn’t be nice to Dragons, all they bring is trouble.”
She was almost afraid then, with his hands resting on the scarf around her neck, she almost wished she’d never come in the first place, but then he dropped his head and his hands fell to his side. He disappeared seconds later and Celeste felt an empty spot where his hands had been. She shuddered and hurried back inside to the warmth.
He didn’t come back to visit the little grave after that day.
