Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears in Heaven

Chapter title taken from the legendary Eric Clapton song.

"Will we see you in heaven too?"

I didn't anticipate how different our new would be. Hell, I didn't anticipate much. I didn't plan for anything at all because I was so desperate. With hardly any money and no friends other than the acquaintance Tom, Emma and I didn't have anywhere to stay if The Leaky Cauldron was full. If the shelters were at capacity we'd set up a makeshift camp in the woods.

"Sissy," Emma's small voice said through her burrito of layers. "Where are Mami and Papi now? Are they in heaven?"

Heaven. I almost laughed. The afterlife was something I hadn't thought about in a long time, and I wasn't sure if I believed in it anymore. "Of course they are. They're good people, they're up their with the rest of their families."

"I really miss them," she sniffed. We were laying on the damp forest floor, me enveloping her with my body like a cocoon to keep her warm.

"I know. I really miss them too." I stroked her head gently to put her to sleep.

"Will we ever see them again?" she asked, slightly sobbing. "In heaven?"

"Yes," I said with a pause. "You will see them again."

"And you? Are you going to be in heaven with us too?"

I hesitated. For some reason that question hurt to hear, and my heart pinged a bit. "I hope so."

She glanced up at me with her large black eyes, just like our dad's. "I hope so too."

I stroked her head again, holding back my sobs. "Don't worry about me, sissy. I'll be okay."

Emma nodded. "I know. You're not afraid of anything." She rolled back over, closed her eyes and fell asleep in my arms.

I wished I was fearless. But I was more scared than I had been in my life. I was so used to just watching out for myself and now all of a sudden having a little girl with me made me extremely anxious. I was no longer looking out for only myself, I had basically become a parent overnight.

Emma and I frequented Diagon Alley, window shopping for things we knew we'd never afford. With her nose pressed against Ollivander's she begged me to take her inside.

"Ah, shopping for a new wand?" the old man asked upon entering his dainty shop.

I shook my head. "Just browsing. I do have a new wand and am curious if you could tell me about it."

"From a European wand maker?"

"No from Mexico actually. I've only had it a few days and it's quite different than my old one." I drew my ten and a quarter inch wand, the old man taking it in with awe.

"Ahuehuete," he breathed, inspecting my wand as if he had been waiting for it. "The national tree of Mexico. Rare to see outside of the country." He flicked his wrist, a firecracker of a spark emitting from the tip. "A fierce, protective wand, once it has become accustomed to its owner."

"Accustomed?" I asked perplexed. "Like becoming acquainted with me?"

"Yes," he handed my wand to me, finished with his inspection. "Ahuehuete is a tree that has been used for several properties for centuries by the ancient Aztec. It is for a warrior and like a noble steed, it takes time to become accustomed to its owner."

"I see," I respond, still a bit perplexed. "I guess we're still getting to know each other."

He smiled, reassuring me I had a quality wand. "And the little one?" He turned his attention to Emma. "Has she shown signs of magic yet?"

I shook my head. Emma was nine, old enough to have produced some type of magic. "She hasn't actually. Not so far, I mean."

"Traumatizing events can withhold magic," Mr. Ollivander said somberly.

I stopped in my tracks. How the hell did he know that? "So I've heard," I ended up saying. I turned back around to face him. He wasn't looking at me accusingly, but more like he knew more than he wanted to admit.

"Don't you worry, I'm sure she'll shown signs of magic soon." He smiled suddenly, waving me goodbye. "By the way, there are a few shops around town in need of help. I'm sure you'll be able to find employment nearby." He gave me a gentle smile, something I hadn't seen in a long time.

I stared at him for a moment, unsure how to react. "Thank you Mr. Ollivander."

"When will I get one?" the little girl asked, waving to a tawny owl.

"When you go to Hogwarts of course," I replied. "You're only a couple years away."

She frowned for a second, but it quickly turned into a smile. "That's forever away but I guess I can wait." She was eyeing the hot chocolate shop just down the alley where many parents with their children were. "Can we have some sissy? I'm really cold and thirsty."

I rummaged in my bag for some change, knowing we'd barely have enough. We trekked through the greying snow into the shop, our nostrils immediately filled with rich chocolate and caramel smells. The shop was quaint, crowded and warm: Christmas decorations were flowing freely from the ceiling, small firecrackers dusting trails of sparks onto the top of passerby's heads. Emma pointed out which hot chocolate and candy cane she wanted and seeing how little change I had I forwent my own. She hobbled over to a rickety table, nearby a young couple. She scowled by how hot her drink was, sucking on the candy cane instead. The young woman kept eyeing us, giving me an odd smile.

"Your daughter is beautiful," she observed still looking at Emma. "She looks just like you, doesn't she honey?" she asked her husband.

The man glanced at us, from one to the other. "What are you?" he asked curiously. "No let me guess-Filipino? You both looked mixed, probably Hawaiian or South American."

Emma wasn't listening. I stared at the couple, mouth agape. "Neither. We're Salvadorian."

"Isn't that the southern part of Mexico?" the woman replied, looking slightly crestfallen that we weren't from someplace more exotic.

"No it's in Central America. Completely different," I answered trying to not sound angry.

"That explains it," the man said with a whir of his candy cane into his chocolate milk. "Why you had your daughter so young. I've heard those Latinos start having kids as soon as they're able." He chuckled, slipping the candy cane into his mouth.

"She's my sister not my daughter." It took all my strength to not hex him. "And we don't all have kids young, thank you very much."

The couple stared at each other for a second, not wanting to back down. The woman opened her mouth as if to apologize, but I grabbed Emma's arm before they could retort. "But sissy I'm not done with my hot chocolate!" she cried, drops spilling onto the wooden floor.

I ignored her, taking the drink in one hand and picking her up with the other. I was furious. That was the first of many times that people assumed Emma was my daughter. Not that I blamed them, poor thing looks just like me but with darker, rounder eyes. I was suffering from the spotlight affect, always feeling as if we were being stared at. Emma's kind heart allowed her to be sweet to anyone, which always introduced a flood of questions. Why are you here? You're so young you look like you should be in school! Your accent is lovely! What other language do you speak? Are you here to travel? What made you pick London? Is she going to go to Hogwarts? Where are your parents? Are you a single mother? Bless you, raising a child at such a young age by yourself. I knew the questions weren't always meant to be offensive and were usually curiosity, but they made me angry and anxious.

With little options for the night, I checked us into a Muggle homeless shelter. I couldn't stand it. They checked all our belongings, and it was tricky getting through security and Impereoating the volunteers so they wouldn't confiscate my wand. I hated being there, we both hated being there. They treated us like animals because we had nowhere to go. Some of the people there were alright, genuinely concerned because I had a child with me. Working was difficult because she wasn't old enough to be by herself all day so she'd occupy herself reading or making small talk with the customers at The Leaky Cauldron.

The nights were the worst. It was never silent with all the bodies laying around, snoring, sneaking in drugs, frolicking around with each other. I was always afraid something would happen to Emma so I made sure to watch her throughout the night. It broke my heart how much she tossed and turned, talking in her sleep. She missed our mom the most, I knew that. I could always tell when she was having nightmares by the way her face scrunched up and how tears would seep through her dreams.

"It's all...your fault..." she repeated. "Your fault...you did this..."

My heart stopped. She was having another nightmare. I tried to shake her gently hoping that it would knock her out of it.

"You did this...you hate us..."

"Sissy," I said quietly, shaking her a little more quickly. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

Her tiny lips were still trembling, hissing out her bad memories. As soon as I leaned closer to grab her shoulders, her coal-like eyes snapped open, looking directly into mine. "It was all your fault." She said it so quietly I could barely hear the words. Her eyes began to swell, but she still looked dazed. "Why would you do this to us?"

I dropped her, her head hitting the edge of the cot. "I didn't do anything!" I said choking back tears. "I'm trying to help you!"

Emma shook her head violently. "You abandoned us! You don't care!"

"That's not true!" I yelled trying to calm her down. The last thing we needed was someone knowing what was going on. "That's not true at all!" I reached out my hand but she backed herself into the wall.

"Get away from me! I don't want you to hurt me!" she looked scared, the bags under her eyes crimson from crying.

"I'm not going to hurt you! You just need to calm down-"

"NO!" She covered her ears, and the shattering of glass began over our heads: the light bulbs were raining down on us from the entire building. "I hate you! I hate you! YOU KILLED THEM!"

"Emma p-please!" I begged, trying to hold her. "Not now, we need to leave!" I had my wand drawn out, and she knew I meant business. She looked at me pathetically, wordlessly, shaking her head. Everyone from the floor was starting to wake up since the alarm was now blaring. Without another word I grabbed her arm, Dissaparating from that place, barely making it into our destination.

As soon as our feet landed Emma wrung free from my reach, running into the cobbled pavement. Not wanting to Stun her I tackled her, pinning her small body into the ground. She had her eyes closed again, refusing to look at me. "Stop this Emma, please!"

"Go away! I don't want to see you I don't want you to be my sister!"

"You don't mean that!" I cried, completely crushed. "You're just upset from a nightmare!"

"But it felt r-real!" She wiped away a tear, beginning to calm down. "I thought it was real!" She sobbed, sitting up in the snow.

"I know sissy but don't worry," I said trying to sound more sure than I felt. "It's not real."

She sniffed, looking like a little zombie with her bloodshot eyes. "I m-miss them. I wish I could forget everything." She stared into the powdered ground, avoiding my gaze. My wand was still in my hand, ready to strike. I set it on the front of her head, acting quickly.

"Obliviate."

My Memory Charm hit her so hard she fell asleep. I became so good at them that she would often get confused as to what was a real memory and what was a dream. It killed me every time I did it. Seeing her frail body slam onto the floor like a cat made me feel like a terrible person. But it was for the greater good, I kept telling myself. As long as she wasn't hurting and didn't think I killed our parents I figured everything would be okay. Every once in a while I would miss and hit her back or her chest, causing her to become dazed, usually after a bad fight. But I couldn't do anything to stop the nightmares-she cried every night for our parents. I felt helpless.

I held her outside in the snow, shaking from what I had done. I held her to my chest, cradling her like a doll. I don't think I'd ever cried so hard before. I felt desperate, crazy and alone. I couldn't keep doing this, I couldn't keep erasing her memory. It was killing me. But I felt that I had no other choice. We sat there for what felt like days, and I still couldn't sleep. I didn't want anyone to see us.

"Please forgive me," I whispered, not knowing who I was talking to. "For all the things that I have done. I'm so sorry." I sobbed, globs of tears splashing onto my jacket. "I'm so, so sorry." I wasn't sure if I was praying, or just asking for forgiveness in general. Either way if there was a Hell, I knew at that moment that is where I would be headed.

Once my crying had died and down and I started nodding off, I heard footsteps besides us: a portly middle-aged man stood by me with a lantern, and I immediately moved away as soon as he spoke.

"What're you two young girls doing out 'ere in the cold?" he asked, waving his lamp at me. "Are ye mad?"

I shook my head, hoping Emma wouldn't wake up. "No."

"Why don't ye come inside? I got an opening for ya."

I shook my head again. "I can't Tom. I don't have enough money." My face burned red, my ego starting to diminish.

The man smiled at me gently, throwing his cloak over my shoulders. "Don't worry, we'll take care o' you." Before I could retort he already had me inside the pub, the Leaky Cauldron sign barely visible through the wind and snow. The door clanked behind us, and we were immediately swept into the warmth of the building. He grabbed some blankets and a room key, leading us upstairs to the top floor.

"Good morning, Tom!" a humpbacked witch with two teeth in her mouth greeted the barman. "Newcomers, eh?"

"Good morning Matilda," he replied with a smile. "Indeed they are, don't try to scare 'em away."

She winked at him, then at us. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Tom waved his wand in front of the door of room 602, whisking us inside. It smelled of mold and old potions, but I didn't mind. It was nice to see a bed again.

"'Ere ya go," he said setting the blankets on top of the dresser. "Sleep through the night and see me in the morning." He smiled at me one last time, leaving before I could thank him.

It might sound strange, but Tom was the first man I met that didn't have a hidden agenda with me. He not once told me I was attractive, nor did he ever make a pass at me or my sister. He knew every single person that came in and out of his pub by name and was friendly with all of them. Since he knew so many people that meant he had a lot of connections-we had an agreement that in exchange for living part time at the Leaky Cauldron Emma and I would both work. Emma helped in the kitchens with the women while I bartended at night and worked during the day. Tom was able to score me odd jobs with a few shops, usually from Diagon Alley. He kept bringing up the joke shop down the way, owned by some kid not that much older than me but I always turned it down. I told him that you can't have an unfunny person working at a joke shop because no money would be made.

"Ya never know," he always told me. "Might find the man o' yer dreams there."

"That's why he's called the man of my dreams Tom," I'd reply with a laugh. "He doesn't exist."

I very much appreciated Tom. He helped me get back on my feet when I had nowhere else to go and did much more for me than I deserved. Those first two years with Emma were the hardest in my life because I had to earn enough for two, but once she was in Hogwarts it was a lot easier. I was finally able to afford my own place that was away from the madness of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom knew that my dream was to work in the Ministry and I'm convinced that he was part of the reason I landed that interview. After being in London for years however I still had no friends, so it was hard working all day and not even having Emma to talk to while she was at Hogwarts. She wrote to me frequently, telling me she got Sorted into Gryffindor. I always wondered what I'd be sorted into. As much as I wanted to go visit her-the Headmistress said I could-I couldn't bring myself to do it. I've caused her so much damaged and traumatized her enough. I didn't want to her hurt her anymore. It was a huge sigh of relief when she first left to Hogwarts, it meant that she was safe. Safe from me, the person who was likely hurting her more than anything.

A tawny owl swooped through my window, landing carefully and placing a large envelope onto my hand, hooting at me annoyingly for a treat.

"Sorry I've got no food for you." I patted its head, opening the envelope with the large "M" stamped on front. I carefully read the elegant writing:

Dear Ms. Morana,

We have carefully reviewed your resume and would like to schedule an interview for a position that was recently made available at the Ministry of Magic. Please respond by owl post no later than three days time.

Sincerely,

Faris Gambol

Ministry of Magic Research and Hiring Committee

"Oh my Merlin," I said in shock, staring at the owl, whose overly large eyes looked confused. "I got an interview at the Ministry!" I jumped up and down like a school girl, as the owl hooted its excitement.

I was so happy I almost cried. I was finally getting a shot at what I wanted the most, to work in the Ministry. I really needed this job. Maybe there I would learn something, maybe there I could figure out if I'm a good person or not. I was tired of being constantly miserable and disappointed in myself. I needed more financial security not just for me but for Emma too whenever she came home.

I stroked the owl's head after scribbling down a quick response, feeling somewhat relaxed. Scared, happy, elated, yet nervous. I had a good feeling about this-something was telling me that everything was going to be okay. I hadn't felt that in a long time. Maybe this was the break that I needed, what would help push me forward. The muscles on my face almost didn't allow me to smile at the owl since I hadn't used them in so long. It felt good, I couldn't remember the last time I was happy. I nodded and the owl hooted one last time, flying away with my response tied to its leg into the sunset.

So there it is, everything leading up to the present part of the story. The flashbacks aren't over quite yet, there will at least be one or two more. As always, thank you for reading!

Next chapter: Seven Nation Army.