Chapter 14: Tears

I do not own Harry Potter, or the poem "Some People"

I stood in the Headmistress' office wondering what the hell was wrong. But that didn't last long. I was offered a chair, and a ginger biscuit.

"I always hate having to do this," began the Professor, as I ate the biscuit politely, "I've had to do it more times than I can count, but I remember every one. If there's one thing I've learnt it's just to be open." She paused. I worried. "Your Grandfather passed away this morning. Amber, I'm so sorry."

I just sat there, stunned. It didn't quite seem real. My Granddad, gone. He wouldn't be singing Christmas carols with me again; never again would we share a chess game. I knew that it would hit me later, but I didn't want it to feel real right now.

"Amber, your parents have asked if there is anyway you can come home for the rest of the holiday, to attend the funeral. If you want to go, I can arrange a portkey for you?" I nodded, not yet feeling up to the task of talking just yet. "It will take a few hours. If you want to go and pack, I can send someone to fetch you when it's done?" Said McGonagall kindly.

So I left. I didn't go to the dorm. I couldn't bring myself to. Instead I went to the one place I felt safe – The Hospital Wing. More time than I thought must have passed, because Madam Pomfrey was back there. I burst into tears. I couldn't stop the hot, salty water from betraying me. I became a gibbering wreck. Nothing else mattered. I just wanted something to cling to. One last shred of the normality of my previous life. My family was that. And now it would never quite be whole again. So I came running to my protector. What I was looking for, I didn't know. I was not used to others soothing wounds, so why I would come looking for someone, I did not know. But Madam Pomfrey just held me in her arms until I calmed down enough.

"He's dead, Madam Pomfrey," I sobbed, as I collapsed to the floor, "I don't want to believe it."

"Amber," She crouched down beside me, "whose dead?"

"My Grandfather. Why now, why on Christmas?"

"Oh Amber, what a year you've had. If only it didn't end like this. Has the Headmistress sorted you a portkey home?"

"Yes. I'm supposed to be packing now." I said, wiping my tears."

"I'm not supposed to have favourites, but when some people spend so long in the hospital wing, well, let's just say, it's hard not to. But the benefit of being one of my favourites is that, being in charge of the hospital wing, I have a few house elves at my disposal. Mopsy!"

Everyone's favourite house elf popped into existence. "Amber! Whys youse crying? It's Christmas!" Mopsy snapped her fingers, and loud poppers exploded, showering the hospital wing in streamers.

"Mopsy." Exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, "Will you just be quiet for once in your life! This is a very serious matter, it may be Christmas, but we are certainly not in the mood to be jolly." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for snapping. Amber will be going home soon. Can you please pack her belongings?"

All the books I've read say that house elves are sensitive creatures, but I didn't expect Mopsy to give me a hug. It was the final straw, and I just broke down again.

DotDotDot

Unsurprisingly, Professor McGonagall had managed to work out that I probably wouldn't be in the dorm and she came to find me in the hospital wing. By this point I was sitting on the bed nearest to Madam Pomfrey's office as she tended to an older student who had mysteriously burned themselves on a present.

The Headmistress swept down the room and plonked herself down on the end of my bed. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but up close she looked tired, old, worn out. Maybe it shouldn't be such a surprise, after all, she was an old lady, and a war veteran, but something in her eyes, she had lost the spark she had in the photos that plastered the history books.

"You know Amber, when you are as old as I am, you think you've learnt everything you will, but the truth is when you learn new things, you also forget things." She sighed, resigned to the truth. "And I forgot how lonely the world can seem when you are 11, and you think no-one cares. I also forgot how those who stay at Hogwarts for Christmas often are hiding much greater problems."

"My family was always there, when I felt upset. And now it's been broken apart, on Christmas Day. And the worst part is, he never knew about all of this. About magic. He would have loved to have known. He was in hospital when Professor Sprout came with the letter in the summer. He never got better."

"You haven't had a good term I hear? This is just the icing on the cake, so to speak? I do sometimes regret not having the time to get to know my students better. I wonder what the hat was thinking, putting you in Slytherin."

"Because I let it."

"Sorry, you let it?"

"It asked me if I was OK with it, to help improve things. Well, it was a bit more convincing than that."

"And what plans does the hat have for you, may I ask?"

"It said that a muggleborn Slytherin would improve interhouse relationships. But I was convinced when I was told the only other house that it considered wasn't the nicest to people who wouldn't conform. If it couldn't see me being happy in any of the houses, I might as well try and use the time to do something good."

The Professor paused to remove her glasses and polished them on her robe, before replacing them on the end of her nose. "You would have made a good Gryffindor, Amber."

"No, I wouldn't, Professor. It's very nice of you to say that though."

"I consider myself a good judge of character; after all, I've been a teacher for a long time now. I've met people like you, hundreds of times. Smart, lonely, brave. Every single one has gone on to do great things. But I haven't seen someone like that in a long time. Oh, there must have been some, I've just been too wrapped up in my work to notice. But I can't shake the feeling that the kids of today are getting complacent. They forget, not so long ago, this school was a battlefield, and, Merlin forbid, if it were to become a bloodbath again, we will need people to rebuild it once more. By Godric, I think even some of the teachers have forgotten what life was like in the war. Deliberately, perhaps, it was a terrible time. But they refuse to remember what happens when you alienate one house, turn everyone else against them." She paused again. "I wonder what else is going on in this place that I don't know about? Oh, Amber, I'm getting too old for this job. The school board just walks all over me these days; I can't control my own school."

"Professor, your problems wouldn't happen to be to do with the school rules that only the board can change would they?"

"That may have something to do with it, yes. But how did you deduce that?"

"I'm not a Slytherin for nothing, Headmistress." I smiled through my tears. She was right, this term has been awful. "I have an idea, but I'll have to speak to you after I get back, once I've refined it a tad."

"Great Scotts! I'd almost forgotten why I came to find you! Put that idea on hold, and you come and see me as soon as you return. Have you got your bags?"

I had indeed. Mopsy had been a star. I answered the question by reaching round the side of the bed and dragging my suitcase onto the bed.

"Shall we go then?"

"One moment." And with that I leapt of the bed, ran to Madam Pomfrey and gave her the biggest hug I could. I didn't want to leave the safety of the Hospital Wing, but I had to, for at home my parents were waiting.

She returned the hug, and pressed her lips to my hair, with the words, "What a horrid thing to happen, on Christmas. If you need anything, just write, you hear me?" I nodded, sniffling, before returning to my bag and the portkey the Headmistress was holding. I placed my hand on the water bottle, then came the sudden jerk feeling in my lower intestine, as the world went blurry.

DotDotDot

It is easier than you'd imagine getting back into the routine of home. Just the feeling of waking up in your own bed, of watching TV. I did miss the buzz of magic in the air though. It permeated every wall of the castle, so it was as if you formed a connection with the building. It's a bit hard to explain.

I spent most of my time hiding in my bedroom. The mood was too depressing downstairs. The funeral was scheduled to happen two days before I went back to Hogwarts. We had been inundated with visitors since I got back. Who is Aunty Iris anyway?

So I'm sitting on my window seat staring out onto the street below. Remember how I said on September 1st that the neighbours would have gone overboard with the decorations – well it's true. I've counted 6 Santas on chimneys already. Is that how he does it, getting to everyone in one night, does he duplicate himself?

But mostly I'm enjoying being in a place where I don't have to worry about the next curse. I hadn't quite realised how tightly I had been wound up until I got out of that mess. My appetite had reappeared now that I wasn't trying to damage control during meal times. The marks on my palms, where I dug my nails in when I was scared, were healing up. But I guess the biggest difference was how my parents commented of how quiet I had become. Amber Darrow was not a quiet person! I haven't shut up since I learnt to talk. It was my defence mechanism. But I guessed that had changed. Before Hogwarts, say if I went to the library, I would just start talking to everyone. But I can't remember the last time I did that. The loneliness really was affecting me.

When it finally reached the funeral I had probably only left the house 2 times – one of which was to buy me a dress, because I didn't own one, let alone in black. The funeral happened on a Saturday, and the overcast sky did nothing to lighten the mood. We went to the church in one of those limos that they only use for funeral processions, that can fit probably 10 people in. It wasn't a Catholic church, which was the only type of church I'd been in before. Perhaps that's better. It was too different for me to be screaming "I'm in a CHURCH!" over and over again in my head, and not be paying attention. I don't like religion, you might have guessed. But my Granddad did believe in God, so I would sit through the service, because I respect that this is what he believed, and this is how he would have wanted his funeral to go. The hymns were weird though!

The vicar was very nice, however. He made sure to come and talk to me, tell me about how the service would run. I had been asked to read a poem by my parents, which I agreed to. I had been feeling a bit left out, like I wasn't really part of the family anymore. At least this gave me some responsibility. The poem was "Some People" The poem starts "Some people come into our lives and quickly go/Some stay and make footprints on our hearts/And we are never, never the same." I guess that really does sum up everything about the people we love. I miss him so much. My Granddad. He taught me how to play chess. He used to sit and read with me when he came to visit. Just sit and help me with the words I had often read, but couldn't pronounce.

No magic can reawaken the dead, but then again, he never knew magic existed at all.