When I woke up I was flat on my back on the floor, head resting in Mialita's lap. Cissy and Andy were crowded around me looking frightened and Mr Donalow was standing a few feet away, looking at a loss as to what to do. He was also getting a good verbal lashing from an indignant Mialita.

"I can't believe you told her without a grownup present," she exclaimed, looking mighty angry.

I closed my eyes, dazed, before anyone could realize that I had opened them in the first place.

"She said there wasn't anyone else here," he replied in a guilty tone.

Mialita scoffed. "She's eight years old – of course there was someone here with her."

I tried to recall what had happened before I fainted, scrolling through the memories with great difficulty. There'd been a party and I'd finally gotten that black dress I'd been pining after for so long. Papa's hair had gone the colour of that sweet I'd seen a muggle boy eating one time, what had he called it? Fairy floss? Then they'd gone out for a walk and Bill Donalow had shown up looking right grim. And then . . .

I don't know when it happened and I don't know for how long it lasted but all of a sudden I was screaming. I was screaming so loud that I'm sure my grandma Willes, rest her soul, was woken from the dead. Then of course Cissy and Andy had to scream too because whatever I did they surely had to follow.

I don't know why I was screaming but I always had had a rather eccentric way of expressing how I felt, my momma always said. She used to say also that I had the lungs of a banshee and I'm sure Bill Donalow would agree with her as he cupped his hands over his ears.

Then I was crying, head turned over into sweet Mialita's lap as I stained her robes with tears. I didn't know why I screamed but I knew why I cried and I knew when Cissy and Andy shortly followed that they did it for their own reasons and not mine. Our parents were dead – they didn't need an example to know how to cry for that.

….

"So is he going to prison?" Mialita asked. "They do call them prisons in the muggle world, right?"

I poked my head around the corner to the hallway. Mialita was busy talking to Bill Donallow about . . . about what had happened and as far as she knew my sisters and I were safely tucked up in bed. Well, part of that was true.

"Yes, that's what they call them," Mr Donallow said uncomfortably. "The thing is, it's a rather tricky situation. He didn't intentionally hit Mr and Mrs Black, he was drunk – so it'll be manslaughter at best. It really depends on how he does in court but I'm sure he'll get some time."

Mialita bristled. "Cygnus and Druella are dead, they're children are orphaned, and he'll only get a little time for that?" she demanded in outrage. "He should be in there for life!"

I inhaled sharply, wondering what his reply would be.

"I know, Miss White, but it's just not up to us."

Disappointed, I turned away and walked back down the hall.

So a muggle had killed my parents. I was starting to see why everyone else hated them so much.