𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭 {𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲}

| 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐏 | 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

Psychopomps are creatures, spirits, or angels who are responsible for escorting deceased souls into the Afterlife. Prominent psychopomps are the Greek ferryman Charon, the Valkyrie from Norse mythology, and the Roman god, Mercury.

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d r a c o

My knees sank into the banks of the pond. The forest ground was soft, damp from the March morning showers, and petrichor filled the air. I stared at my wobbling reflection in the mercury-silver water.

After decades, Dobby's voice still rang clearly in my head. If Master Draco really wants something, all he needs to do is look into the water and wish for it, and it will come true.

I touched the water. It was cold, slippery between my fingers like oil. I wish for Angel to be happy. I wish I could be the man that makes her smile. I wish I was good enough.

But even as I thought these words, my willpower faltered. All this while, I thought Angel and I were destined to be together, but perhaps I was wrong after all. I had no right to keep her, I had done nothing to earn her love.

I stood back up. Wishing was for fools, I decided. The clearing was silent, and the late afternoon filtered through the leaves, casting the place in a warm glow. It was still too early for the Thestrals, they only came in the night.

I found the giant tree root that curved up from the ground like a bench. It had been years since I had last come here with Angel, but the symbol was still there, carved by her into the bark many moons ago - a cross, intersected by a small 'x'. Our symbol. I touched it, the droplets of metallic liquid from my fingers seeping into the indentation. It all seemed so far away now, a reality I would never get back.

I decided to wait for the Thestrals. Sinking onto the tree root, I buried my face in my hands. And like that, I sat for hours. The sun eventually dipped and disappeared. The moon took over, looming over the clearing, bright and larger than life.

Across the pond, the trees rustled and they came into view, majestic as ever. Their boney black figures moved with agile grace as they lowered their necks to the water.

A particular one noticed me, staring curiously. It began to tread through the water towards me, and as it drew closer, I realised it was the same one that had let Angel and I touch it. It seemed to recognise me too. I remained very still as it approached, letting its huge nose snuffle me up and down. Carefully, I lifted a shaking hand.

It bellowed happily, a hollow, light noise that sounded like blowing through a cardboard tube. It touched its nose to my hand. As I ran my hand over its slick pelt, I remembered that night with Angel - how it felt when she had looked at me, over the creature that stood between us.

Our arguments had been replaying over and over in my head the entire evening, a broken record that strove to drive me insane. I pushed it all away now. Those were nothing, just fodder made of smoke and dust that clouded our light.

I decided that I no longer wanted to feel this way, always falling over my shadows. It hurts to live so wide awake, but my life was a gift from Angel, and I will no longer run. Let the Death Eaters come. Let my father come. If they wanted to take her away, or me, they were welcome to try.

As if in agreement, the Thestral lifted its mighty wings and blew urgently, its winter breath seeping into my body through my clothes. Go home now, it seemed to say.