"Ms…?"
"Oh, must I tell you?"
"Quite certainly, yes! I like to know who I'm addressing to before I take to any procedures, after the-"
"So I'm guessing that the Hogwarts trauma never quite left you?"
"No, no, absolutely not. I get haunted by, by things. Like Dumbledore, and Snape's fleeting shadow, and then of those horrible faces staring with ice cold eyes at me, the blood splattered floors…horrible, horrible!" The old woman shuddered in response.
"Let us not talk about that. So why have you, er, come? What business, speak up!" The addressed woman gave a contemplating look, swiftly strode a step forwards without crossing Pomona Sprout's borders in her dangerously high red heels, pursed her lips like a sly fox, then spoke in her cool accent:
"Ms, I am from the Witches Catering Co-Operation, or WCC. You have heard about us before, have you not?" Pomona thought hard. After a moment of moderate confusion, she shook her head.
"No, don't think so anyway. Though I wouldn't quite trust myself these days, getting a bit watery in the head. You know, comes with age." The petite woman gave a thin smile, then protruded from her leather bag an elegant quill and a parchment in a handy size, gave a quick flourish before planting the note firmly in Pomona's weather worn hands.
"You must be detached from the modern society these days. Our company is administered by a very prominent Witch, Madame Huxley, and she is renowned as one of the magic world's richest witch, absolutely rolling in galleons! Of course, this means that we have the provision to afford a 20 storey sky scraper soon to be built, right next to Gringotts, and two page advertisements every day on the Daily Prophet, morning and evening edition! The building will be a marvel to look at for sure, it is to be created with marble slabs, the newest fashion of course, and gold and crystals will contemplate the furnishes inside! Why, I believe that Shacklebolt himself will cut the red ribbon on the day of-"
"You still haven't told me your name and purpose."
"Oh," and the lady flushed crimson while Pomona went back to examining the swirling motion on her cup of coffee, "well, I am Ms. Devonshire, Ms. Fiona Devonshire. I'm here to, well, advertise further. Rather annoying too, if I must say, how so far only a couple of people have given some attention, and more than half of them are wizards! It is a witch's agency, for goodness sake!" To which Pomona promptly replied back, her tone weary like she was stifling a yawn:
"I wonder why, Ms. Devonshire." Afterwards, there came a certain uncomfortable silence, before the woman spoke up again:
"Mind if I accompany you to a cup of coffee?"
"Go ahead, go ahead. Old Alfey's a friend of mine, gives me free ones whenever I ask for it. But life's a drag now, without the students to look forwards to…at times I wish that I hadn't given the post to Longbottom…at times I wish that God would allow me another twenty or so years of being young…" Pomona gave a sigh before looking absentmindedly at the disappearing figure of the youth, so carefree, so into her looks, so fragile to betrayal and cheat and the hardships of life…but she should enjoy this moment of freedom as much as she can before it's gone, for it will never come back again. Just like Dumbledore, just like Fred Weasley, just like Snape, just like so many other innocent students and teachers…I am still alive, but that is not something to be grateful for. For I cannot bear the burden anymore, the burden of all those deaths that I could not prevent from happening, and I wish that I could be able to exchange my miserable life with theirs, to be able to finally stay peaceful, stay dead without fear and guilt, stay away from the haunts that surround me with ice cold sweat…
"Ms, what's wrong? You look pale, really pale, like, like you had seen a ghost of your predecessor or something…are you alright?" Pomona gave a startled blink, then nodded her head and gave a weak smile:
"I'm fine dear, really I am. Got some, er, water flowing in again. I've lost my consciousness, comes with age." Mrs. Devonshire gave a last worrying glance, before starting the conversation again about the renovation process, of which Pomona had no interest or intention of listening at all:
"Like I was saying before, Ms. Huxley plans to add this sky deck where you can see the whole of England, and it will be terrific! Oh, look at my brain! I've forgot to tell you what we do! Give me a moment to remember my speech, the weather is getting on my nerves, stifling hot to be wearing a silk scarf in the middle of Summer, dreadful…anyway, what we do is precisely this;" and she gave a moments pause before she spoke again, eye lids fluttering contentedly with every movement of her polished lips:
"Good morning kind madams! Would you care to take a look at the construction of a baffling building that will exhibit tens and thousands more working positions for searching witches? Yes, I do mean what I say. Indeed, the 20 storey sky scraper that is located next to Gringotts will withhold work opportunities liable to fit everyone's talents! We are currently accepting every talent ranging from filling in the inkpots to performing fast and accurate spells! All of which will be paid in reasonable amounts and will be finally a solution to rely on one's capabilities and produces rather than your fellow Wizard's! Please accept this handout, which illuminates all the contact details and important information regarding our service, the Witches Catering Co-Operation, out to help out millions of witches from boredom and living in pits of guilt!" At the end of her lengthy and rather inspirational speech, Ms. Devonshire cleared her throat and looked expectantly at Pomona, who had been immersed in the format of the bushes nearby during the speech and therefore did not manage to administer what the girl was saying. Still the girl was looking in expectation towards Pomona, who was now really beginning to feel that this young lady was too content on her life and her personality. However, Pomona still managed to think up something to say back that would work in pretty much every situation:
"A speech that I would say would need some adjustments, however none of them are too concerning. "
"I thought so too…by the way, you are Ms...?"
"Ms. Sprout. Ms. Pomona Sprout." This certainly startled Ms. Devonshire, for she opened her eyes wide and stopped stirring her coffee, mouth gaping and speechless. Inside, she was thinking how extraordinary it was that she was meeting the very person that was on the radio last evening, the Hogwarts retired Herbology teacher, the one that-
"Am I familiar to you?"
"Oh, yes, yes I guess you are! Were you on the radio last evening, on the Witches Gossip Hour? Oh, but of course you wouldn't know! You're detached from the modern world!" Pomona raised an eyebrow before starkly remarking:
"I wouldn't know nothing about what you young lots are doing these days, a Witches Gossip Hour? I'd prefer the Classical Station to any of those other channels on the radio."
"So you have been detached from the world now, have you not? I've read somewhere that when witches or wizards retire they go a bit, pardon me, berserk and just feel that life is not worth it anymore. No wonder most witches and wizards don't use any spells or potions to help them live for eternity…"
"Eternity? My goodness, you are too young to be able to know anything about how treacherous and miserable life really is! It's absolute torture, seeing so many deaths and going through all sorts of things that make you wake up in the middle of the night, panting and thoughts of the past just pelting down on you…by my age, you would simply welcome death as a friend…"
"But You-Know-Who, he was-"
"Voldemort please! He's nothing to be scared of, dead by young Harry's spell…something to be thankful of, though if only he would take my life too when he struck that curse down to Bethany Hilton, I would be a lot happier now! Anyway, continue please." Ms. Devonshire took a brief second of bafflement and confusion before beginning again, this time her voice slightly less cheerful:
"Yes, er, Voldemort," still she said it in a melodramatic undertone voice, to which Pomona gave a sigh of exasperation, "He didn't admire the prospect of death. He, well, he wanted to be immortal. And he was…I don't know really, younger or older than you now, Ms. Sprout? Older I believe judging by the fact that he was…wait younger I presume, I-"
"I'm sorry, dear, but I suddenly remembered what I wanted to ask you earlier."
"Yes?" And the lady leant in closer in curiosity.
"Why was I in the radio gossip stuff? I'm not usually in those stations, quite often I'm in the Memorial Column or the Herbology Times, or occasionally in the Wizarding World News Broadcasting Co-Operation, but never in, what was it again?"
"Witches Gossip Hour. And it's because…haven't you heard?" Pomona shook her head wearily, then gingerly fingered the amulet hanging over the middle of her chest, her usual way of thinking or to pass through boredom.
"Oh, well, McGonagall's dead! It's all over the news, everywhere! She-" but Ms. Devonshire stopped herself, when she saw the colour draining from Pomona's face and in slow motion the coffee cup was thrown off the table and landed onto the ground, the cup rolling for a while before it stopped and sat there, almost like hesitating. And the promotor was hesitating, of whether she should comfort the lady or do nothing, but for one thing she is certain of is that she should not continue with her sentence anymore.
Pomona managed to gasp out, her body contorting in the most horrible way imaginable and her eyes unblinking staring towards the ceiling, fingers shaking uncontrollably over the table:
"I haven't checked any letter, or news, or radio or anything for the past weeks. I was haunted, haunted by everything. I want to die now, let me die now, she's gone…gone like everyone else, why am I still alive? Why?" And her terrifying eyes slowly manoeuvred to Ms. Devonshire, and sat there in a state of unconsciousness, waiting for a response that Ms. Devonshire could not say back. The wind started howling, the trees started bending in an arching movement over the witches and wizards hurrying back home, each pulling their cloaks around them tightly and grasping the heavy shopping bags in their red hands, for the wind was too fierce to be able to use magic. The sun disappeared, and the clouds clumped together allowing darkness to take place. The shops swung their doors closed and shot the locks back in place, the cheerful commotion ended and the wizards stopped their drinking and staring secretly at the witches…for something extraordinary was about to take place.
And then dark clouds started forming shape, a long drawing sound came from afar, the black hoods came flapping in the air…and then there came a high pitched scream, a scream of terror that penetrated the air and frenzied the others to follow suit. Throughout all the mess, Pomona remained where she was seated. For she welcomed death as a friend, and smiling she gazed up towards the pale face that extended its mouth and lurched forwards, ready to place a kiss…
Dementors
**Just for those curious or those that are bored, this is what really happened on the Witches Gossip Hour:
M.J: Welcome again to the Witches Gossip Hour! We are here to transport the most startling and eye widening news to your ears, and are here to answer the questions that make your face flame red! Indeed, just this morning (in the aspect that this was done prior to the scene of this chapter, as in done yesterday) there did come some shocking news, I believe feasty enough to satisfy most of our eager audience until lunch!
R.P: Yes Margaret, I believe so too! Everyone, hear this! The well-known head mistress of Hogwarts, need I explain further the most famous school in England, Professor Minerva McGonagall, died this morning!
M.J: However, this is not the most startling! The fact that Ms. McGonagall died not from magic but by actual Muggle death is what intrigues us and millions of others the most! How is that even possible, you might ask yourself. Today, we are to present you with some of the most common beliefs that staff at St. Mungo's has considered, given exclusively to us:
(I'll skip the next 10 minutes or so, until the bit where Pomona appears)
R.P: I believe that McGonagall's friends will be very much in despair, and may I add but Hogwarts will need a new Head master or Mistress now! Will it be Filius Flitwick, retired teacher of Charms, or Pomona Sprout, retired teacher of Herbology or-
M.J: Rachel, I believe that we can leave this on a cliff hanger! The proceeding Hogwarts election will commence promptly next week, on the Hogwarts school grounds, and we understand that the urge to glimpse this event will surely appeal to many, but we have been told that this is strictly available only to members who have been given appropriate invitations. And yes, there will be spells put all around the school during the process, to keep it all hush hush, but of course we must spill the beans to all of our listeners!
R.P: May I also add that Flitwick is the best candidate so far? But, this will be discussed as soon as we hear ear to anything else interesting…
(Then Ms. Devonshire switched the radio off)