Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a work of art; sadly it is not my work of art. It is JK Rowling's work of art.
The Night Before Halloween
It was an ordinary table. It was a nice, oak coffee table that held no special significance to anyone in particular; it had no unique look or function. It was a table that stood in a middle of a small room but still, it was just a table. Now, the story is not about the table, nor is it about the chairs. It is not even about the cushions on the chairs however nice those might have been. Frankly this story is not about any furniture at all, so if that is what you were looking for I suggest you find yourself a nice Ikea catalog and be on your merry way. I do not wish to discredit any pieces of furniture with my story, I am sure they have their own incredible stories to tell. Alas, theirs is not a story I wish to be telling. Thus however remarkable the life furniture may be, I do not wish to tell about the horrifying tales of the average coat rack, nor the salacious endeavors of the leather sofa.
My only desire is to tell of the four men who looked to be not much older than twenty, who were currently residing in the same room as the furniture. The four men were in a middle of a conversation. Their conversation was not one of great importance, or of any importance to be completely honest with you. They were just having a friendly chat, laughing and smiling. They've been in this room for three hours now, in those three hours they've done nothing of any importance whatsoever. It was a pleasant three hours. It's not surprising that it was pleasant since it was time spent in the company of their closest friends, reminiscing their school days. Reminiscing times when all four of them had much less to worry about and the things that mattered so much back then now seemed trivial.
Every word said that night was said with certain sadness, and yet with joy that would make them forget the dread that seemed to follow all four of them wherever they went.
"Oh! I remember her! She used to be completely in love with you, she'd follow you wherever you went," said one of the four men.
"Yeah, annoying brat, but who can blame her? I mean if I was her I wouldn't be able to resist me either," replied another.
"Wow, I can't believe how completely full of yourself you still are, I mean I would have thought you'd outgrow it by now," stated the third.
"Well there is your mistake, Moony. Your expectations are much too high, I would have thought that after having known us for ten years you'd know better," said the man with shaggy black hair.
"You would think so wouldn't you, Prongs." Moony admitted.
"Besides hoping that years will at all deflate Padfoot's arrogance is about as sensible as waiting for snow in July." Prongs added.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Padfoot demanded.
"Only that he shouldn't hold his breath, that's all." Prongs responded.
"I'm not that bad! Come on, you were a dozen times worse, agree with me, Wormtail." Padfoot ordered.
"Just as bad I would say." Wormtail replied.
"Perhaps, but at least I managed to mature, you however are stuck on the same stunted level." Prongs objected.
"Shut up!" said Padfoot.
"No, you shut up!" demanded Prongs.
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
"Both of you just SHUT UP!" finally snapped Moony.
"Bloody Hell! Relax would you, there's no need to shout!" Padfoot complained.
"Oh, you guys wouldn't believe what Harry did this morning." James suddenly said.
"Oh Merlin, here we go again. What, what is it that your brilliant son has done now?" Wormtail groaned.
Prongs ignoring the sarcastic tone continued excitedly, "He said his first word today, 'Prongs'! Can you believe it! And he's only fifteen months old. I told you he was a genius."
"Well, that is my godson you're talking about, so it's not that hard to believe." Said Padfoot.
"Well what does that have to do with anything?" Prongs asked.
"Well just think about it, I mean it must be my influence that's doing this." Padfoot stated matter-of-factly.
Their argument continued, along with their laughing and their reminiscing for a while longer. It continued until Prongs felt it was time to go home to his son and wife; Padfoot felt it was time to grab his bike and ride over to the nearest pub; Moony felt that he should get some sleep before going job hunting the next day; and Wormtail felt that he needed see a wizard who heavily resembled a reptile and whose name sounded like something you would see in the toothpaste isle inside a store, and yet managed to strike fear in the hearts of many, including himself. Wormtail felt that he needs to see him because tonight he had something to report, something that was sure to make the reptile man very pleased indeed. More pleased in fact than he has been in a long time.
So with that they all left room, the sofa and the table. But that was not the only thing that they have left behind for this would be the very last time the four men would ever again be in the same room together. Prongs of course will come home and kiss his wife and play with his son. Padfoot will go to a pub drink some ale, and find himself a pretty muggle girl, whose name won't matter after she leaves in the morning. Moony will find his bed and enjoy the quite for a while before falling soundly asleep. Wormtail will find his master and tell him what he has learned one day prior, and get praised for his accomplishment.
This would be the last time for a long, long time, when the four men would feel any amount happiness. It was October 30th of 1981.
Authors Note: I thank you for reading. I would immensely love some feedback. However if you're going to criticize make sure it is constructive.
A Tragic Comic