The singing flower
Three years after the defeat of The Dark Lord by the little boy who lived, the Wizarding World had finally stabilized itself enough to again function properly. With magic everything was possible, Repairing the wooden shed or finding long-lost items under the shelves. What magic could not repair was the gaping hole in some people's hearts. What it could not repair were the numerous wands, numerous lives or the numerous plants that were destroyed by those Vile Death Eaters who would still attack sometimes to regain the lost glory of the former Dark Lord. They were quickly arrested of course but still the terrors of the wars could not be erased from their memories…Our story starts on an ordinary afternoon
It was a magical afternoon, quite literally so for one Mr Wilkes who was an old man with wrinkles adorning his face. Wilkes was quite a poor fellow after the war. He was poor before the war too. Also, Wilkes was a herbologist who tended to magical plants. Now some people would say being a herbologist and being poor had no relation to one another but the patrons of the little cottage turned shop "Whimsical Flowers" would say otherwise for you could find only a select few who visited this shop. The little shop had an archway with little violets hanging by threads and the entrance had a beautiful rosewood finish which could only be made by an expert craftsman. The windows showed the outside world variety of plants as well as flowers in little earthen pots which stood next to each other. It was a majestic beauty…but that was before the war…
Now the shop in the appropriately titled street "Whimsic Alley" was not a pleasant sight to see. The arch was now half broken mended with tiny little fractures all over it. The violets were now dead. The door to the shop was now damp and now, seemed like a treasure from an antique cinema. The previously bright shelves were now covered with dust…the plants have long gone…only a few remained and that too was in a sad state… a state similar to what Mr Wilkes was in.
The Frequently visited shop now only welcomed certain few patrons, maybe some loyal customers who came once in a blue moon and after a few fortnights had passed never…One of the patrons was Bajirao Seth, a friend of Mr Wilkes when he studied at Hogwarts. Seth was a 40-year-old man of Indian origins. He had a laugh that would rival that of a hyena and a stake in gambling that would put some of the younger gamblers to shame. Sadly, the hand was always turned down and Lady Fortune did not smile upon him as often as he would like, his cheerful persona was always present even though he was in debt. Seth had a portly belly and a moustache that would put his forefathers to shame. Quite literally as his moustache was only a few strands of hair above his lips…Unlike his father who had to regularly oil his to at least keep a semblance of maintenance.
"Remember to give me some money then mate…much obliged" was what he had said after guffawing as loudly as he could. Then he left the shop opened up his cigar box, and apparated to the nearest gambling den to pay for another round of his addiction with the smoke of the cigar.
Mr Wilkes to had a moustache similar to that of his friend or maybe now it was just an acquaintance. But what he lacked in moustache, he compensated for by his equally large forehead. Wilkes was tending to a nasty-looking wall flower after Seth had left. Just as he realized that there was no hope of saving that flower, he decided to burn it. Just as he flicked his wand, he could hear the chime of the bell that was hanging above the door of his shop. It seemed that a big hairy man had entered the shop. He had on him a large overcoat; his face completely covered in facial hair gave no indication of his age.
"Jolly good day we are 'aving. Jolly indeed Ho Ho Ho ho..." laughed the man as he walked over to the nettleworm insect which was feeding on a "Seppulum" plant. This exchange would not have been a big deal if the nettleworm had just been a little insect. The nettleworm insect due to its need for survival grows up to a respectable size of 7 feet.
"'Ere girl, come ere" The man beckoned the insect as someone would recall a particularly well-behaved dog, and the insect which was not known to respond much to strangers obliged his request. The man as he was petting the insect by stroking the underside of its thorax looked up to Mr Wilkes who had finished his business and was coming to him with a concerned look on his face.
"Are ya Mr Weelkeess? See 'ere Mr Wilkiss I wanted to donate my baby"
Mr Wilkes was surprised. It was not the first time someone had wanted to donate their baby to him, but that was only because he was a Loyal Hufflepuff through and through and the people knew that their baby would be fine in his capable hands.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, kind sir?"
The man was still petting the nettleworm and seemed like he paid no attention to Mr Wilkes, but his one hand moved towards a pocket of his overcoat. The hand was completely lost in the never-ending pocket. After a few moments, the man took out an almost withered-looking plant and placed it on one of the shelves
Take good care of 'im...or else..." The man's voice was grave and it seemed to have a threatening note to it. The room became eerily quiet. The grasshoppers stopped chirping, spiders started crawling from almost every corner of the room, the nettleworm batted its nonexistent fangs, thunder struck and…
"…I reckon me daughter would be very sad. Well then Vilkees I will leave it in yar' care…I'll be going now then…" The man left the shop as quietly as he came in…The room was still quiet…The bell chimed once again…
This seemed to break Mr Wilkes out of his daze. He had never seen such a plant in his admittedly long career. The man also did not impart much wisdom about it, thinking he had at least some level of expertise in him to nurture the plant back to life. Mr Wilkes was stumped; he did not want to tend to this plant but the mere thought of making a little girl sad made him frown. He went to the place where he could find some answers…The library.
The library on the upper floor of the cottage turned shop had balls of paper scattered around. Books stained yellow with experience adored almost all the shelves of the library. The ink-stained blotting paper sat over his desk as a quill was dipped into the rustic water bottle. Flowers were written on the little paper and 5 books flew out and landed neatly on a pile in front of Mr Wilkes. Mr Wilkes perused the books for the whole night but still, he could not find any reference to the rare plant.
Just like Whimsical Flowers, just like the well-adorned library, Mr Wilkes was now old. He did not have the spark he once had in his lively eyes. The war had seen to that…He did not want to live anymore. Add to that the growing frustration of not being able to cure the flower, it took a toll on his health. Days passed…His eyes slowly began sunkenly…his hair grew…His eyes were starting to be like those stones found at the bottom of an endless pit of water…lifeless. The day might have finally come…Mr. Wilkes had turned his back on Life…What did he have to do anymore…He had nothing left…His shop would be better off without him, so like that afternoon that day, another afternoon came to pass by...
Mr Wilkes decided that he would like to sing the last song...the one his grandfather used to sing to him...Then he would die like the flower sitting on his shelf...He began to slowly hum a tune… an old school one…a tune with life before death…a tune with violas playing and harps singing in harmony…where the sky meets the earth…where the sun meets the moon…a song of hope before it flies
Take me home,
Little moon,
Let's start another journey,
And let's explore this faraway land together,
Unknown to Mr Wilkes whose eyes were closed, the flower looked up and responded to the song. Its leaves began to grow, its flowers started to turn pink and a light shined upon it…Mr. Wilkes continued singing.
Take me to the rainbow…
Fly me to the stars…
Let me see its colours and let me…
Nod abode to Mars…
Let's take over this world…
Let's sing and dance today
Dance with me under the setting sun…
What do you say?
Little moon…
Mr Wilkes opened his eyes and stared in amazement. The flower bloomed yellow and red, the plant grew too and in a matter of seconds the singing flower opened up its blooming petals and sand with him too. A tone of new life, a refreshed life a life that was starting to bloom again and the lifeless gaze of Mr Wilkes has chipped away. In its place stood a tearful man, grateful for his new chance at life and a flower that was happy that someone had sung to it again.
When the man returned after a few months, the archway of the shop was again built back, the door was again back to its original shine…Some patrons entered the shop and some students exited it. The violets that were previously dead were now replaced with stunningly beautiful silver and gold flowers. As the man entered the shop, Mr Wilkes greeted him and shook his hands. Mr Wilkes had to attend to another customer but he gestured the man towards the now blooming flower by his countertop.
The man quietly took the flower with him and entered out with it. A single lone tear escaped his eyes as he remembered the gift his dead daughter had given him a year ago…The flower shed a tear of its own too…