Pleading and Praying
'And when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn,
Rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice,
Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling,
And I didn't feel a thing, so baby don't feel no pain,
Just smile back.'When I'm Gone – Eminem
He was my hero.
It was as simple as that. He saved me from everything like heroes did. They pick you up when you fall, they comfort you when you are upset and they'll promise you anything to make you feel comforted and secure. My dad was all those and more, everything I could want in a father figure he was. End of story.
When the fighting started again I read the Prophet every day needing to know every detail about what was happening, don't ask me why I needed to know, I just did. Maybe it was because I knew my dad had been pivotal in the last war, no – that's an understatement – my dad was the war, the good side anyway. I was probably trying to tell myself that it wouldn't be his fight to win this time; it would be another person's problem, anyone but my dad.
For a while it wasn't his, it wasn't my dad's fight. What I didn't realise at the time was that it was probably another little girl's dad going out to stop the madmen, well, I might have realised it, but I didn't let myself think about it. As long as it wasn't my dad, I didn't care.
But then one night it became my dad's fight. I screamed, I shouted and I sobbed but I couldn't stop him leaving. For a while I honestly thought I could stop him; he had never done anything that had made me upset before. If I'm honest he was far too soft on me, mum got annoyed when he let me get away with anything, and it was because of this that I believed I could stop him going. He would give me what I wanted, always.
That time he didn't.
He still went to help in any way he could, I don't think he couldn't not go; that was the type of person he was. He came back though; he kept his promise and returned my bracelet to me. He kept his promise.
And he did every time he went, when he promised me he'd come back he did, when I gave him my bracelet he always came home to give it back to me before I went to bed. For the eleven times he went out and I gave him my bracelet he came back.
Then there was the twelfth time.
I was upstairs talking to my best mate Hannah on the phone when I heard mum shout from downstairs.
'Yeah?'
I shouted out of my room, knowing my voice would carry downstairs.
When I got no reply I presumed it wasn't important, if it had been there would have been another yell telling me to get downstairs there and then, but there wasn't so I carried on talking to Hannah.
Five minutes later I finished my conversation and wandered downstairs to put the phone back in it's cradle. I strolled into the kitchen and picked a couple of cherries from the bowl.
'Where's dad?' I asked mum before putting one in my mouth.
'He got called to work,' she replied simply.
I swallowed the cherry almost whole and winced as it slowly made it's way down my throat. I ignored the pain because a shiver had just shot through me.
'Why?' I asked in barely a whisper.
'They er…they need him to help with some fighting that's broken out.'
Anger erupted inside me.
'And he left without saying goodbye to me?' I screeched.
'Sophie don't shout. I called to you but there wasn't time for him to wait. The message said it was urgent.'
'It's been urgent every single time he's been called and he's always said goodbye to me before. I can't believe he left without taking my bracelet! He knows it keeps him safe!'
Mum smiled and walked towards me.
'Sophie, I think it's more your dad's skill that brings him back every time rather than him taking your bracelet with him.'
I glared at her.
'I don't care! He always took it with him and he always promised me he'd come back all right! But he DIDN'T THIS TIME!'
'Sophie calm down. This time won't be any different to the other time's he's gone. He'll be back before you know it.'
I glared at her and walked through the kitchen to the lounge. I sat in front of the fireplace and looked at the picture of the three of us, hoping and praying he would come back unharmed.
The bright green flash of flames took me by surprise and I nearly broke my neck turning it to see who had arrived.
I was disappointed when it wasn't my dad, it was my uncle Ron and Aunty Hermione. I dismissed their arrival with a half-smile and a shrug, not looking at them properly.
'Sophie, where's your mum?' Aunt Hermione asked.
If I had been paying more attention I would have noticed the way her voice quivered and the fact that she was crying. But I didn't notice it because I was staring resolutely at the picture on my lap.
'Upstairs I think,' I replied simply.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Uncle Ron walk through the lounge and disappear up the stairs, Aunty Hermione sat herself down on the sofa. Despite my initial rudeness I struck up a conversation.
'How are you Aunty Hermione?' I asked.
'Oh er…fine Sophie, how are you?'
Had her voice not cracked during her question I wouldn't have looked up at her. When I did I went cold. She was crying and by the looks of her she had been for a while.
'What it is?' I asked, panicking.
She didn't say anything, just looked at me as tears fell down her cheeks.
She was saved any explanation by a gut-wrenching scream coming from upstairs. I stood up and bolted from the room, a stool went flying in the kitchen as I tore past it, but I didn't notice.
'SOPHIE WAIT!'
I ignored Aunty Hermione's screams and took the stairs three at a time. I ran into mum and dad's bedroom and I saw mum being cradled by Uncle Ron. She was screaming and sobbing and trying her hardest to punch her anger out of her. Uncle Ron took it all without flinching.
'NO!' I screamed. 'HE'S NOT DEAD! NOT MY DAD! HE CAN'T BE!'
I went to run forward toward mum and Uncle Ron but someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me into what looked like a hug but was really a restraint.
'Sophie don't,' she whispered into my ear. 'Calm down.'
I struggled against her grip but I couldn't get free. 'We need to leave them alone, I'll tell you what happened. I will, I promise. Let's go into your room. Come on.'
Only one thing in that sentence hit home 'I'll tell you what happened'.
I stopped struggling instantly and her grip loosened. She physically turned me round and steered me into my room.
I stood behind my door and glared at my Aunty, but she refused to meet my eye.
'Well?' I demanded. 'What happened?'
She looked at me for a second before taking a breath.
'They er…they were called to a muggle village in Devon. There were houses on fire and duels going on in the street. Be…before they knew what was happening…some er…some Dementors were summoned.'
Dementors? I thought, well that was all right then! Dad could handle Dementors with his eyes closed.
'It was a chain of events really,' she continued. 'There were fights going on and another Auror was thrown into Harry. He…er…he dropped his wand and was thrown backwards by an impediment jinx. That was when…it happened.'
I think I knew there and then what had happened but I refused to believe it. Death was better than…than…that.
Aunty Hermione looked like she was calming herself, but it didn't stop the tears.
'He was attacked by a Dementor. He was given the Dementor's kiss.'
I stand at the foot of my father's bed and stare at him. He's in a hospice that only takes victims of Dementors, there's nowhere else for them to go. There's no point in them taking up beds in St. Mungo's, they have enough to deal with. I didn't even know where they went before it happened, I'd never thought about it. Why would I?
To be honest I don't know why I come here. I know he can't hear me, and I know I'll never get any response from him ever again. I know it may seem harsh, but I think it would be easier if he were dead. He'd be in a better, higher place, not stuck in this hole, an empty shell of his former self.
I blame myself for what happened. If I had come downstairs when I was called I would have given him my bracelet, and I would have made him promise to come back to me safe. But I didn't, he didn't, and now he has no soul.
Actually I lied before, I do know why I come here; it's to punish myself for letting this happen. I make myself look at what I caused.
I look down at my wrist and picture the bracelet sitting there. It doesn't sit there anymore; I took it off the night he didn't come back home.
It was now around his wrist. No one else knows it is there – well the carers might – but no one else and I like it that way. I don't care what people say, it was the four leaf clover on that bracelet that kept him safe all those times he went out, and it's that four leaf clover that I hope is helping him in some way now. It may seem stupid, some people say there's nothing left of him to help but I don't care what they say. I let him down once. The least I can do is try and keep him safe now.
He was my Dad and he was my hero.
He was Harry James Potter.