Writing

The Holidays With Dad

December 25th


You would think after all these years we would have gotten used to it just being us for the holidays. Yet I still swear I can hear Dennis' laughter echoing in another room, or the sound of his huge feet clomping across the hard wood floors. For such a short boy he had huge feet. And ears.

He was like a puppy who never grew into his features.

Dennis was young enough it might have, one day. If the end hadn't come so soon for him.

Dad used to say that he thought Mum was with us every year, but I was so young when she died, I don't really remember her at all.

Maybe that's why I take pictures for a living, always scrambling to record memories so that I'll never have a chance to forget them like I forgot her.
Writing

A New Beginning

September 6th ~ The Leaky Cauldron


Said goodbye to Dad yesterday. I think he was still hoping I would change my mind. I've gone to Diagon Alley plenty of times, even returned to Hogsmeade once or twice in the last few years, but this is different and we both know it.

This time I'm not just going for the day, or even the weekend. This time I'm moving back.

He doesn't want me to leave, which I can understand. The last time he watched one of his sons pack up and leave the Muggle world... Dennis died.

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Sleeping

The Nightmare

Colin had just been told that the informant must have been mistaken, that the last four hours the small group had spent hiding in the trees had been wasted when the cries began.

The clearing where the meeting was supposed to take place was still empty. No sign of the "respected" businessman from Hogsmeade or his suspected Death Eater contacts - and yet there was screaming.

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