"Uhm... Marina Lockhart. Relative." I twist the hem of my shirt into knots as I speak to the smiling woman behind the counter. She nods, writing down some information on the desk in front of her, and guides me under a large archway. It reads 'St. Mungo's Hospital for the Magical'. It's always frightened me, walking under the archway. I feel like it could fall down and crush me.
The smiling woman―Kaitlyn, I note after reading her name tag―stops in front of a white door. "This is his room," she says, gesturing to it. I nod, eyeing the doorknob. "You can go on in. I hear he has a Christmas present for you." I nod, though I don't believe her; each year he doesn't remember me.
I smile halfheartedly at her and watch as she bustles off. She was nice enough.
Now that she's gone, my only concern is the door in front of me. A portion of my mind doesn't want to open it out of fear―it has been a whole year since I last saw him, and each time I was terrified. He never got any better. He never knew who I was. But then the other half wants so desperately to run into his arms, to sob and laugh and smile with him for the whole day. But I know that couldn't happen.
Finally, I make up my mind and place my hand on the doorknob. I twist it, my hand shaking, and push the pristine door open. It reveals an even more immaculate room. I take a few steps inside, turning to the left.
That's where Dad sits, a bored look on his face. He turns to me, a smile quickly adorning his features. I grin. "Happy Christmas."
I walk towards him, and he hops to his feet. Smiling brightly, he takes a few steps towards me. "Thank you! Happy Christmas to you too... Um, would you mind telling me your name? It seems to have slipped my memory." My eyebrows go up when I hear that.
"It's Marina," I say, keeping the same smile on my face. Dad nods, his mouth forming a little 'o'.
"Ah, yes! I remember you! You come every Christmas, don't you?" I nod. "Well, I'm overjoyed to see a familiar face. The nurses here change every week or so―it's absolutely dreadful."
"I'm sure it is." I glance at a couple chairs sitting in the corner of the room. "May I bring those over?" I ask, nodding my head in their direction. He nods, grinning, so I grab them and lift them to the center of the room. I suppose I could use magic, but I didn't want to.
We both plop down, now facing each other. I crack my knuckles loudly. "So... How are you?"
"Good, good... I've been getting a lot of mail." I nod and smile. "It's curious―they're always asking for my autograph. I suppose I'll never know why." I look confused, but I obviously understand. Gilderoy Lockhart had been one of the most successful authors in the wizarding world.
"How old are you again?" he suddenly asks me. I'm caught off guard―in past years we've just talked about him.
I hesitantly respond. "Sixteen."
He smiles faintly. "Ah, yes. I'm sure you're enjoying it―especially at Hogwarts! I know I sure did. All the girls fawned over me, did you know that?" I an a bit surprised; I suppose he has improved.
"Definitely. My classes are going very well," I state. To be honest, they really aren't. I'm on the brink of failing a few.
"That's good." We sit in silence for a few moments. After a bit, it becomes unbearable, so I stand up and reach into my bag.
"I brought something for you. For Christmas." I pull out a painting. It's not framed. It's a painting I made of Flourish and Blotts, made obvious by the tall bookshelves on both walls. At the top of a winding staircase sits a pile of books―Gilderoy Lockhart's. Their bright covers contrast the dark, somewhat boring shelves in the background. I hand it to him, praying that he likes it.
He stares at it for a bit. "...Goodness, this is absolutely beautiful. I have to have this framed!" he proclaims. I smile, now feeling bashful. He looks back up at me; as usual, he's still smiling. "Marina, I―"
Dad suddenly freezes and glances back at his bed. I'm a bit nervous; I have no idea what he's doing. He rushes to his bed and pats the floor beneath it blindly, until his hand finally falls on something. He pulls it out, grinning proudly, and hands it to me. It's a stack of papers, tied together with a neat little bow. A tag sticking off of it reads, 'For Marina'.
"It's something they found in my belongings," he explained. "I can't read it for the life of me, and honestly, no one else can either. Only thing I could decipher was your name on the bow, so I figured I should give it to you. Happy Christmas!"
I stare at it, a bit confused. The papers are covered in scribbled words. Not one blank space remains on each piece. Squinting, I begin to make the handwriting out. It's obviously my father's―he always let me work on drafts with him do I'd recognize his writing in a heartbeat. Of course the only part of his handwriting he would remember is his signature. No wonder no one else could decipher this; it's absolutely horrendous penmanship. But all that really matters is that it's Gilderoy Lockhart's.
"Thank you so much!" I hug him, my eyes beginning to well up with tears. They begin to fall freely when he wraps his arms around me.
"It's no problem, really." He pats my back a few times and lets go. I step back, beaming.
"I'll come and visit next vacation, alright?" I gently place the papers in my bag and wipe my tears away.
"Perfect!" he exclaims. "You know, Marina... Though sometimes I forget your name, I've grown to care for you like a daughter." I laugh.
"Bye, Gilderoy. I'll see you later." He waves at me as I exit.
I hurry to the Floo station and Floo to the Slytherin common room. Checking the grandfather clock by the dormitory doors, I notice that I'm just in time for the Christmas feast. I dash to my room and place my bag on my bed, and I look at it for a minute. I can't wait to read it. But for now, I hurry out of the Slytherin tower and to the Great Hall.
As I take my seat between Tracy Davis and Blaise Zabini, I sigh. I hope I'll be able to check in with Dad more often.