Author's Note: Trigger warning for mentions of domestic abuse, alcoholism, drug addiction, and violence.

This is a short one, sorry.


CHAPTER SIX

Gideon

When Gideon Hastings was a child, he wanted to be a James Bond. His mother, a devout spy fan, would pop on a VHS every Saturday morning and they would watch a James Bond film together over their breakfast. It was their weekly ritual, one that Gideon loved dearly.

When the hero saved the girl, Gideon would turn to his mother and loudly promise her he would be the one to save her should any trouble befall them. Mrs. Hastings would smile and hug him, thanking her son for his honourable promise.

Gideon broke his promise ten years later, when his mother was struck by his drunken father. She fell and cracked her head open on the coffee table, causing irreparable brain damage. When his father was sent to prison, Gideon was the only one who could look after his mother. But addiction soon found him and she died soon after.

The last thing his mother said to him was how proud she was of him. He stood there, high as a kite, and unable to respond. When her heart finally stopped, Gideon Hastings also stopped living.

It was Jobe that saved him in the end. An optimistic and foul mouthed black girl from the streets of London. She pulled him out of the pits of despair and taught him how to live once again. Through their extensive travels across Europe, Jobe taught him to appreciate the small things in life. A badly tuned guitar could be the key to happiness, and Gideon truly believed that.

They ended up in Aldeford several years ago and because of Gideon's growing mobility issues, decided to stay for the interim. He was getting old and his drug use had worsened. It wasn't so much the high anymore, but a necessity to stay stable. Drugs were his medicine, and without them, he would become untethered.

Ever since meeting that strange, pointy faced man however, Gideon has been feeling rather wonderful. He knew he had to protect his friend Tom at all cost, and this time, he would fulfil his promise. James Bond had nothing on him.

After procuring a baggy of weed, Gideon makes his way outside, hoping to catch sight of his raven haired friend. Ah, there he is! Sitting next to that blonde woman. The older man smiles and approaches the two, holding up the baggy in a triumphant gesture.

"Tom-" The name dies on his lips. He stops mid-step and stares. In the tree line surrounding the warehouse is a figure shrouded in the shadows. It was a wonder he caught sight of the figure, but there was something, a painful prickling, that drew his attention towards it.

Gideon squints and watches the figure closely, fingers turning white around the baggy. The figure steps forward, out of the darkness, with its hand raised above its head. In the dim echo of the street light, Gideon can make out some details: red hair, tall, a man, perhaps. And in his hand, a long object, like a knife or a pistol.

His insides seize. Danger! A small voice warns him, screams at him, DANGER!

Gideon moves before he thinks.

He bolts towards Tom, a cry of warning tearing from his throat, and he jumps, throws himself in front of his friend. The sky tilts, sound dissipates, and bliss envelops. Green is the last thing he sees, and there's the distant voice of his mother, Gideon, oh my sweet, brave Gideon, how proud of you I am.

For the first time in life, Gideon Hastings has found true happiness.


Harry stares at Gideon's body in abject horror, mouth agape, senses numb. He forces his gaze up and sees Ron Weasley, charging towards him, wand raised and fire in his eyes. Luna's yelling something at him as she shakes him, what is it? What? What?

His eyes drop to Gideon, meet those glassy eyes. Oh, Gideon. Why are you smiling? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?

"-DISAPPARATE! NOW!"

In an ear-shattering rush, Luna's voice slams into him, leaving him breathless. On instinct, Harry immediately disapparates, not even noticing the usual suffocating squeeze of the magic. There's another flash of green and Ron's enraged face, Luna's wispy blonde hair floating in the wind. Gideon's eternal smile.

He lands somewhere soft, carpeted, the smell of roses heavy in the air. Tears blur his vision, voice thick and babbling nonsense. Apologies, perhaps, as if Gideon could hear him now. Footsteps outside, the door slamming open, a shrill shout, confusion, anger, shock. Warm arms envelop and he clings on for dear life, not certain if any of this is real.

There, out the corner of his eyes, stands another ghost. Another soul to join the procession of the dead, smiling and waving at him from beyond.