No Fairy Tale
By: ChoCedric
When I first heard of magic, I thought it was a wonderous thing, something I'd only read about in children's books. I didn't even have one tiny inkling that the wave of a wand could produce such tremendous results. I had no idea that magic would change my life so much. And now my son is lying in a coffin, and I realize that not only has magic changed my life, it has ruined it forever.
My other son is distraught, and he has told us he never wants to return to the wizarding world. He thought it was marvelous for so many years, but seeing the carnage that took place only a few days ago dramatically changed his mind. He and his brother were inseparable; they were two peas in a pod. But now, it feels as though he doesn't have the will to live without him.
How could magic do this to me? The stories I was told by my boys were of flying on broomsticks, learning how to make potions, and transfiguring objects into other objects. They never told me about the war; I didn't put two and two together, not even when strange signs started to appear in the sky over many houses, and very odd weather began occurring all through the country. I had no idea that my mischievous, vivacious, full-of-life boys would be involved in something so brutal.
I touch my precious son Colin's peaceful face as he is forever frozen in slumber. I was told that he fought bravely and valiantly. My sweet, brave angel, why did you go to fight when you knew you weren't meant to? But that was my Colin, always opting to do the right thing. But why, my special baby boy, did you keep it all to yourself?
I see many of Colin's friends from school and some of his professors at the funeral. Dennis whispers to me that Harry Potter is in the crowd, and a fierce, burning hatred boils within my veins. Harry Potter killed my baby boy. Harry Potter and his stupid, bloody magic world ripped my life apart. I want to go over to him and scream, rant, yell, hit him, howl about the injustice of it all, but Dennis, tears streaming down his face to match mine, holds me back. "It's not his fault, Mum," he tries to console me. Rationally, I know he's right, but I can't get over the fact that it's my beautiful, heroic Colin lying in that coffin. He was so perfect, my heart is in agony. If magic is supposed to fix everything like the fairy tales say, why can't it bring my son back?
But I realize the cruel truth now; real magic is no fairy tale. Real magic involves bloodshed, flashes of green light, and horrible demonic curses. Did Colin suffer? Did he think of me as he died? Did he scream for me to help him? Oh Colin, I'm so sorry I ever let you and your brother go to that school. I wish I could avenge you, somehow find a way to pay those evildoers back for taking you away from me. You have gone to a place that I cannot reach yet, but I hope you find happiness there, sweetheart. You deserve Heaven, you were brave and bold. I will always love you, and I hope you finally get your fairy tale.
