Holly
"Mum! Mum where are you?"
"I'm in the kitchen, dear!"
Holly Bagman hurried down the stairs from her room to the kitchen. "Mum I wanted to ask you something," she smiled as she entered the kitchen.
Her mother was standing over the sink listening to the Wireless while she cleaned the dinner dishes from earlier that night. "What is it dear?" she asked, turning to face her daughter.
"Mum…I'm sure you know what's happening this summer," Holly began.
"Darling, I do try to keep up with things happening in your life, but I don't know everything," her mother teased. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."
"Alright," Holly smiled. "Well…the Quidditch Finals are coming up in a few weeks, and for the first time in a very long time, England is hosting the final game! Ireland vs. Bulgaria in England, can you believe it?!"
"Dear I know how much you love quidditch, but you should know by now that I cannot stand the sport!" her mother replied with a sigh. "Your father ruined it for me."
Holly rolled her eyes and made a face when her mother's back was turned. Her father was the notorious Ludo Bagman: ex-beater for the Winborne Wasps and head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry. Her mother had never quite forgiven him for the reasons behind their divorce even though it had been over seven years ago.
"I know you don't like the sport, Mum, but…it's so close!" Holly pleaded. "The finals will never be this close again in my lifetime, and I really, really, really want to see a professional game! Besides, Ireland's in the finals. Please Mum!"
"Holly, we'll never get tickets this late, and I refuse to go to any event that your father has planned. No doubt everything will go wrong, and besides, everyone there will be drunk, and I will not place you in that environment," her mother replied firmly.
Holly huffed angrily and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs with her arms folded. "Dad would've taken me," she muttered.
"Ha! Your father would have taken you and then left you somewhere while he bragged about his old quidditch career, got drunk, lost all his money, then went home without you," her mother replied sourly. "You know he never pays attention to you when there's anything to do with quidditch around."
"At least I would've seen the game!" Holly argued. "Mum, if I write to Dad and he'll take me, can I go?"
"Holly!" her mother cried, spinning on the spot to face her.
"Mother!" Holly whined in reply. "I want to see the game, please!"
Her mother sighed and turned back to the stove for a moment. "You really want this badly enough to stay with your father? I know how much you don't like spending extended periods with him."
Holly bit her lip. It was true; staying with her father for long periods of time was strenuous to say the least. He hardly ever paid more attention to her than a brief conversation, and he wasn't even that great at conversation: most of the time he bragged about his long-dead quidditch career or about the latest event he had organized at the Ministry. The idea of being with him at one of his own events was enough to make Holly regret bringing the subject up, but Ireland vs. Bulgaria…
"As long as it's just for the match…" Holly said slowly. "I really want to see the game, and goodness knows if it'll ever come back to England. Can we please ask him, Mum?"
Her mother sighed again and stared at her daughter for a moment. She could see how important this was to her, but the idea of putting her only child in the care of that man for an event like this was one she wasn't so fond of. "I'll have to talk to him, Holly. He has to understand what it means to be responsible for you at this kind of event. If I'm convinced he can handle it, you can go."
Holly forced a smile and slid off the chair. "I'm going back to my room for a bit, then, Mum," she said and left the kitchen. She hurried up the stairs before shutting the door to her room and leaning her forehead against the cool wood. "That was as good as a 'no'," she finally muttered to herself. "Mum'll never be convinced he can take care of me…I'll never get to go to that match."
She pushed off from the door and walked over to her bed before sitting down heavily with a sigh. As she sat there in despair, she felt a soft fluttering by her left shoulder. She looked up to see her barn owl, Timber, settling herself on her shoulder. Timber gently nuzzled Holly's neck as she always did when she sensed her mistress was upset.
"Hi Timber," Holly smiled ruefully. "It looks like we'll be here all summer again," she sighed.
Timber hooted softly in response and continued to rub against Holly's cheek.
Holly gently stroked Timber's feathers and stared out her window into the sunset. The sunsets in Ireland were absolutely gorgeous to behold, and Holly always took special care to observe them whenever possible. Tonight, the sky was especially beautiful with deep oranges and purples blending seamlessly into the black shadows of the hills. Holly leaned over to grab a fresh canvas and her favorite set of paints. Timber fluttered off her shoulder already aware of the amount of concentration the activity required. Holly slid from her bed to the window seat that faced the west. She propped the canvas against her knees and quickly set about capturing the sunset in all its glory.
Painting had become a steady hobby of hers since she and her mother had moved to Ireland when she was ten years old. Her mother's job as a magical biologist had taken them from England to the country of Ireland, and Holly, though disappointed that she would not be attending Hogwarts, was thrilled with the idea of living in the beautiful and magical countryside of Ireland. Ever since her first few weeks there, Holly had desired to capture some of the indescribable images she had seen; painting had been her solution.
Her room was now littered with half-finished canvases leaning against complete images of old castles that were sitting on top of silhouettes of her school which were piled beside sunsets from two years ago. While her mother called it a mess and swore there was no way to know what was where, Holly called it ambiance and knew exactly where each and every one of her paintings resided in her room.
As she carefully traced the horizon line with her black paint, she heard the sounds of her mother screaming echoing through the old house, and she sighed. Timber fluttered her wings in surprise, but then simply rolled her eyes and returned to trying to sleep. By the sounds of it, her mother had Floo-called her father and was currently "discussing" the terms under which Holly might stay with him for the match. It wasn't as though Holly had been hoping for a positive outcome, but she certainly hadn't been excepting the shouting to start this soon into the conversation. "Unless Dad's already drunk," she muttered to herself before chuckling at her own joke and continuing to paint the sunset.
Some would think that judging by Holly's reactions to her father that she didn't love him, but they would be mistaken. Holly did love her father very much; she spent many free hours fondly remembering happy times from her childhood before the divorce had torn everything apart. She had been too young at the time to understand what was happening or why, but even now she knew that her mother had not told her everything about the reasons behind the separation. All she knew was that her mother believed her father to be irresponsible and unable to take care of a family. Holly did miss her father, but she missed the one she had known as a young girl.
Ludo Bagman now was nothing like that man. When Holly was with him, he hardly paid her any mind at all and spent most of his time reminiscing about his glory days. She had no idea what had happened to cause the change in her beloved father, but she desperately wanted the old him back. She missed the man that would take her into the yard and fly with her for hours until her mother finally called them in for dinner. She missed the man that she used to listen to Quidditch matches on the Wireless with while he explained to her all the rules and tricks. But most of all she missed the man that would listen when she spoke and cared what she said.
As Holly concluded her session of reminiscing, the sun disappeared completely behind the hills, leaving only a pale stripe of orange left in its place. Holly carefully added the final highlights and shades to her painting before closing up her paint jars and placing her brushes in a jar of water. She placed the painting on the window seat and stood up to stretch her legs.
The sounds of arguing continued to echo up the stairs, and Holly turned her eyes, once again, to the outside world. The sky was clear, and the air was cool; it was the perfect night for a flight…if she could get away with it. She bit her lip and listened closely to the noise downstairs; it didn't sound as though they would be finishing any time soon, which meant she could easily get out her window on her broom and make a quick flight before her mother ever realized she had been gone.
Holly hurried over to her chest of drawers and pulled out her Irish-knit wool sweater that was perfect for that night before pulling her broom from its hiding place under her bed and crossing back to the window. "Timber…remember the signal if you hear Mum," she said over her shoulder to the owl that hooted in response. With a nod, Holly leapt onto her broom and shot out of the open window like a bullet from a muggle gun.
As she had predicted, the night was perfect. The clouds had receded to allow the stars to bathe the land in their silvery light while the wind was just enough to keep her cool without freezing her to the bone. Holly sighed and felt all her muscles relax as she felt the breeze flow through her blonde hair while she flew across the vast expanse of ground near her house. While they did not own all of it by any means, Holly knew no one (wizard or muggle) would ever come up to where they lived at this time of night, so she felt safe using it all for her flying purposes.
She shot between the trees and took herself so low to the ground that her shoes actually scraped the grass before darting through the top-most leaves and heading straight for the stars. Flying was the only thing aside from painting that she had to relieve the stress of day-to-day life while distracting her from her mother's temper.
Holly had barely completed her third lap of the house when she heard the hooting of Timber that meant her mother was on her way upstairs. Holly turned her broom for her bedroom window and urged the broom to go as fast as possible. If her mother were to catch her…well, she didn't like to think about it. She shot back through the window and landed gently beside her bed. Quickly and quietly, she replaced her broom in its hiding place under the bed before pulling off her sweater and throwing it back in its drawer with just enough time to flop down on the bed before her mother knocked on the door.
"Come in, Mum," Holly called, trying to keep her breathing even.
Her mother opened the door and sighed. "Are you ever going to clean up these paintings?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Probably not," Holly replied with a grin. "Where else would I put them?"
Her mother sighed again before changing the subject. "Your father and I talked."
Holly morphed her face into an expression that appeared shocked by the news as though she hadn't heard them fighting all night. "Really…and, uh, what did you decide?" Holly asked apprehensively.
With yet another sigh, her mother locked eyes with her. "In a rare bout of consideration, your father agreed to my terms. He wants you to stay with him so he can take you to the match. You are allowed to go."
Holly's face lit up with a genuine smile. "That's awesome! Thanks Mum!"
Her mother smiled indulgently before closing the door; it didn't escape Holly's notice that she was muttering to herself the entire was out.
As soon as the door was closed, Holly turned back to Timber with the same real smile in place. "Well, Timber, it looks like we'll be getting out of here after all."
Timber hooted in response yet again before gliding out of the open window. She felt it was safe to go hunt now that all the excitement was over.
Holly watched her owl fly off into the night with a strange sense of glee that had nothing to do with getting to go to the match. For some reason, she felt as though something larger had just begun, and she couldn't wait to find out exactly what that was.