A/N: Odd little one-shot. I don't own Harry Potter. Nor do I own the poem on which this based. JK Rowling and Ingrid Jonker can take credit for that. Just so you know, it's an Afrikaans poem, titled 'toemaar die donker man'.
Summary: The muggle world has the sandman. He puts sand in your eyes, allowing you to sleep… but what has the wizarding world got? The dark man. Mr. Forget out of the Land of Tired…
The Dark Man
Molly sat between her twins' beds. Perhaps seven years of age, they rubbed their eyes tiredly. Though neither of them had plans of falling asleep just yet.
"Will you tell us a story, mummy?" Freddie asked; his voice so small and innocent... Molly was glad they didn't know about the war – ignorance was indeed bliss.
"Yes, mummy!" Georgie echoed. "The one with the dark man!"
Molly smiled. They sure loved that story.
"All right, you two. But only if you promise to go to sleep once I leave this room?"
"Yes, mummy." They said in unison, each grinning a strikingly similar grin.
She knew the promise was empty, but she didn't mind. They were mischief-makers, the best of their kind. And she wouldn't begrudge them their fun.
"All right… On the green footpath, on the horizon far, around the world, darlings, paces an old man, he has an open moon in his hair, and a nightingale in his heart. Jasmine picked for his open buttonhole, and a back hunched from his years. Yes a back, hunched from his age."
The picture formed so dazzlingly in their mind's eyes… an old man, resembling an obese Dumbledore-type man, walking on a trail at night; a bald patch shining on his head, his beard flying behind him as he struggled with his bent back…
"What's he doing, mummy?" A small voice asked.
"He calls the crickets, he calls the black, silence that sings like the rushes, my hearts," She looked fondly from one boy to the other, "And the stars that sound, knock-knock" she mimicked the sounds for them, using a stunning form of onomatopoeia, twirling her wand to let shiny stars fall onto their heads, "darlings, like the small beetles in their fine circles…"
"What is his name, mummy?" The other young voice asked. She smiled serenely, having expected this question. They always asked the questions – if they didn't, she'd be worried.
"His name is Hush, his name is Sleep, Mr. Forget out of the Land of Tired. His name doesn't worry you, he just is, my lambs. Don't worry about the dark man." She whispered, glancing from one twin to the other. Alliteration worked wonders for hushing little boys to sleep. "The dark man will never hurt you."
She stood up silently, leaving the two boys to sleep. Looking over to them again once in the doorway. In sleep, they looked even more ignorant and innocent than before. The dark man had paid them visit indeed, throwing each twin into a comforting darkness, making them forget all of their worries… not that their worries were big, per se, simple – what worries had a child, really?
"Sweet, isn't it?"
She nearly jumped at Arthur's voice behind her.
"Tell me that tomorrow when they attempt to blow up the kitchen again!"