𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 |𝐃.𝐌

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 | 𝐡 𝐨 𝐠 𝐰 𝐚 𝐫 𝐭 𝐬 𝐞 𝐱 𝐩 𝐫 𝐞 𝐬 𝐬

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲."

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HEMERA

September 1st, 1998

The day we leave for Hogwarts every year can easily count as one of my favorites. The first of September has been marked on my calendar ever since I left for my first year, with circle after circle of inexact lines filling up the little square box. As if there's a single chance of its importance to flee my mind, or the delight of finally leaving Wiltshire after three long months to go by unfelt. I might consider myself a sucker for holidays and breaks, and yet everything will come around as dreadful by the end.

All around the platform, the cries of the nervous first years who aren't yet prepared to part with their parents echo like a massive plea for mercy. I'm almost tempted to rest a comforting hand on their shoulders and reassure them that Hogwarts is not a matter of lambs and slaughtering and never-resting monsters spawning from bathroom pipes. I've never related to the feeling, for I had someone to walk through the train doors with even on the day of my first departure; blaming them for feeling alone, clueless as to what's to come would only oppose those sparks of sympathy trying to flare up within.

Most of the time, I even try to put myself in their parents' shoes and I'd occasionally let the fear of what if my child doesn't fit in, sink in. It's as though the question radiates off their minds in unison, getting a voice of its own and turning it into something audible. The mere idea of Hogwarts, a school so well-known in the wizarding world is quite intimidating when you have no one to guide you through the halls and walk with you to your first class. It's comforting to know that everyone ends up finding their place and building a life there. Whether it's because they're genuinely appreciated, or have the ace of hypocrisy up their sleeves, it's rare for someone to be seen sitting alone.

Especially when the first years happen to be the matter of concern. Young and friendly, with beliefs that aren't strong enough to define them or their decisions, they enter the school like a massive ball of anxiety and leave with friendships worth their time before Summer break rolls around.

"All right, so" Somehow, even over the crowd's buzz of constant chatters, my mother's shrill voice still stands out. It instantly makes me avert my gaze from all the unfamiliar faces scattered around, my eyes finding hers. "Hair ties, check, leggings check, a spare toothbrush, check—" she begins listing off things but before she gets to mutter any more, I cut her off soothingly.

"I'm not going to war, Mom." I chuckle with a light roll of my eyes and my hand comes up to her shoulder, firmly resting on it. The wave of her exhale, and the slight slump of her tense body, both echo directly into my palm. "I'm pretty sure I have everything I need."

She proceeds to shake her head, dirty blond hair shining like rippling waves even under the faint sunlight, "and what if you have?"

"Hogsmeade is too close for you to worry about me running out of anything" I start, though not even this can help my mother reduce some of the stress behind her mask of a smile.

Next to me, Draco is devoted to sharing his goodbye with his mother, since we arrived here together, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Narcissa pulling him into a hug. I can't even come close to describing the wholesomeness of seeing how he now has come to tower over her, while the little boy he once was keeps running around in my field of memory. Knowing about the soft spot Draco has for her makes me smile to myself.