Freakish *ON HIATUS*

Chapter 1

'"... we'll always remember him, as a husband, as a father, as a brother, and most of all, as a hero. His love and compassion warmed our hearts, and his departure must not diminish our gaiety. The sacrifices he made throughout his life were appalling, and so was his courage. He stood up for all of us, and saved us on countless occasions - and now he has the chance to be reunited with his parents and close friends. His life will be cherished, and his children, and his children's children, will be told of the great deeds of the Boy Who Lived..."

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Leah walked back home with small steps, following the lead of her father's legs under the umbrella she held, protecting her from the cold rain and wind. The stones of the sidewalks looked murky black under the ripples of water, unlike the beautiful ivory black that decorated the brooch she was wearing. It was the dull kind, the color that the knuckles of a blacksmith turn after years of welding metal. Most of all, it reminded her of her Great great Uncle Harry's casket as it was being taken away into a truck, to the place where his parents' graves were buried.

She shuddered at the memory. Nine years into her life and she already had a death in her family. Her father and she had gone to attend his funeral, and she was sure she received some strange looks at her end while they were there. She didn't even know those people - she wasn't close to Great Uncle Harry, who didn't appear much into her life until recently...

She remembered his kind smile as he had beckoned her to him a few months ago. He had made her stand a foot away from him to get a good look at her.

"Well," he said in a calm, grandfatherly voice. "What a bright young lady you seem like. I can tell you're a unique one, kid. And believe me, I've met some unique ones." He paused to chuckle.

"Oh, but where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself. My name's Harry, and I hear your name's Leah, am I right?"

She nodded, and noticed something on his forehead. "Is that a tattoo?" She'd heard of tattoos when she was younger, and she remembered it to be not an acceptable thing in her home after her father has gotten yelled at for getting one on his arm. "My dad has one."

He chuckled again. "No, kiddo, it's not a tattoo, although that doesn't seem like such a bad idea." He stopped as a look of mock contemplation crossed his features. Then, ever so slightly, he leaned in towards her ear.

"I'll tell you a secret about it if you can keep one." He whispered.

She shook her head. "Secrets shouldn't be kept from family. Dad says so."

"And he's absolutely right." He nodded approvingly. "You're smart too. I'll just tell you - this," he pointed, "is a scar. And I got it when I was a baby."

Leah moved his hair a little to study the scar and a familiar shape stood out to her. "It's a lightening bolt!"

"Yes, it is." He smiled. "Do you know how I got it? It wasn't an accident, or a purposeful attempt at hammering my skull. It was magic."

Great great Uncle Harry said that last word with such emphasis as if it was supposed to impress her or something. Magic? Was he kidding with her?

"Okay?" She said, unsure how to respond.

"And magic is the reason I survived later on in life. It's the reason your grandparents, parents and you are alive. It's the reason the whole world is running as it's supposed to."

"But," she said, trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes, "magic doesn't exist."

He looked taken aback, and a hand clutched his chest where is heart was supposed to be, or actually, too far left of where it was supposed to be.

"Dear child!" He said in an exaggerated voice. "Don't go saying stuff like that! You'll damage my old heart!"

She forced a smile to show him that she was amused, but she wasn't. She wasn't a child! She was nine years old - almost ten - two whole hands!

"I must admit, I haven't seen or heard of real magic. Ever." She said.

"So? Have you seen a dinosaur? A black hole? A goddamn atom? And yet, science has proved they exist!"

She flinched at his word choice. "Agreed. But I've never heard of science proving magic exists."

He leaned back in his chair, looking at her in a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. "You remind me of Hermione, ah, may God rest her soul. Facts and evidence. Books and cleverness. If she hadn't received proof, she wouldn't have believed magic existed either."

"She saw evidence that proved magic existed?"

"Saw. Performed. Same difference." He shrugged. "But, seriously, kid, magic exists. Trust me."

Leah opened her mouth to argue, but then decided against it. Great Uncle Harry was eighty-seven years old - surely he'd gone swivel-eyed. Magic, ha! As if! She wasn't some book-obsessed, fantasy-loving nerd. She was a realist, who believed in facts and personal experiences, not silly, hand-me-down non-existent legends.

"I trust you, Uncle." She managed to say with a smile. "But I hope I will see some proof soon."

He chuckled yet again and planted a wet kiss on her forehead. Ew. "You will, kid. You'll get your proof pretty soon..."

She shook her head as she ran her fingers through her hair. Proof of magic. Surely, if magic existed, Harry would have made himself and his family immortal. He would have made himself a millionaire with the money he could just produce out of nowhere. He would have proclaimed world peace, ended all war, lessened pollution - he would have done a million things. But he didn't, because he was wrong.

She sighed as she closed the door to her house and set aside the wet umbrella. She looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung near the door frame.

Magic doesn't exist, she told herself firmly, hoping that Great great Uncle Harry would have understood that before he died.