ANGELS DON"T CRY
Disclaimer: I own zilch. It all belongs to the wonderful author, J.K. Rowling.
"All right, class, settle down!" Miss Brown said to her class in a bubbly tone, "Now today we were are going to have a little talk! Who can tell me what their Mummy does? Is she a nurse or a teacher or a secretary?"
A scrawny five-year- old with scruffy black hair scraped his foot along the floor and seemed to look pointedly away from everyone else. Francine Brown looked at the pupil, her brow knitted. He was one of the children she found hardest to connect with and always seemed slightly removed. There had been some moments when she saw that he was a genuinely sweet child but he never quite fit in with the other children. She glanced at his cousin, Dudley Dursley. Dudley had a weight problem and was frankly, a spoilt child. Francine knew the young Harry Potter was an orphan and lived with his aunt and uncle but she didn't understand how the two cousins could hate each other so much. They were obviously treated so differently. The family was obviously dysfunctional, Francine realised.
Little Harry frowned, as he thought very very hard. Behind his smudgy, cello-taped glasses, his emerald green eyes stared into space, concentrating. He didn't know how to answer.
Miss Brown started asking individual members of the class for their answers.
"Yes, Susie?" she said.
"My mummy is a doctor," she said shyly
"Well, that's a very good job. You must be prou… yes, Harry?" she said in surprise.
For the little boy's hand had suddenly shot up into the air.
Dudley swivelled around in his chair to glare at his cousin, thinking, How can he be so stupid? His mum is dead.
Harry softly said, "My mummy is an angel"
That night in the cupboard under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter lay sobbing softly. When Dudley had told Uncle Vernon what Harry had said, he hadn't reacted well. Eyes bulging out, he yelled at Harry, " YOUR MOTHER IS NOT AN ANGEL! SHE WAS A USELESS IDIOT BUT NOW SHE'S DEAD!"
In Heaven, Lily watched her only child cry in the darkness all alone. She wished she could hold him. But she knew she wasn't an angel. She didn't play the harp or sit on a cloud conversing with God or wear a long flowing white dress. Another thing, she certainly didn't have a halo or wings.
But gathering all her knowledge of angels, she thought of one more reason, a single tear running down her cheek.
Angels don't cry.
A/N Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it now do me a teensy favour. Please review!