Chapter 32: A letter, a ghost and despair

Holly sighed as she stared at the stupid clock- it seemed like she's been sitting here for ages; so how come only a minute passed by? She looked at the clock pleadingly, as if it could fulfill her wishes, but when nothing happened she let her head slip and fall on the round table. She ignored the sudden pain in her forehead and closed her eyes, her legs swinging in the chair she sat, too short to reach the floor yet.

Two days...

Two days have passed since she last saw uncle Vernon. She had no idea where he was- or rather, why he still hasn't come home. She felt sad, worried and frustrated. And angry- so very angry at times, that it seemed the kitchen shook with her anger also.

Ever since uncle went "missing", she was the one in charge of feeding her aunt. And it wasn't more like feeding, as it was torture.

It seemed that ever since that "fight scene" happened, her auntie was more than determined to make her feel as small as a mouse. She sneered at her whenever she came in with her food tray, desperately tried to make her spill soup or waste food and when she finally accepted to eat her "poison", she would always complain and insult her before every bite. "Worthless... Just like your parents... Can't even make a proper meal... Why are you even here?... Idiotic..." were one of the many complaints she had in store for her.

And when the seemingly never-ending torture finished, Holly often left the room shaking with rage, more so than with sorrow. She felt angry because despite knowing that for some of those things she was not to blame, whenever her auntie spit those words in her face, she would stay silent but in her mind they rang true. 'Yes... I am worthless... It's my fault...' Most of the time that was her train of thought. But when she left that room, everything seemed to become clearer and after a quick chat with Robert where she could sort her thoughts, she would feel bitter rage.

Because (she was convinced for the first time) she was not to blame for everything; she couldn't be blamed for some things which happened even before she was born. Yes; she did blame herself because of Dudley's death, that was something that she simply couldn't forgive herself- but she was definitely not at fault because her mother "... Always pretended to be perfect... Yet she was vile and disgusting, and yearned for attention... I'm ashamed I'm even related with her..." or her father "... Never was a decent man! The word gentleman doesn't even exist in his cells... Stuck up and snobbish! A true living definition of an 'Arse!'..." were the kind of people they were, or the fact that they foolishly died in a car crash.

But if Holly were to be honest, auntie wasn't to blame for all of her rage...

"You know you shouldn't just lay down wherever you want. I mean, we eat there." A voice stated right beside her, the last sentence uttered with a hint of disgust. Holly ignored him and lazily lifted her head, staring at him with hazy and indifferent eyes. They stared at each other a bit before he shrugged and sighed, as if she was a hopeless case and he did what he could.

Holly laid her head back on the table, ignoring her cousin who was sitting in thin air right beside her. That's right- this morning she was woken up with a whisper in her ear "Wakey-wakey; breakfast isn't gonna make itself."

She had replied with a grouchy "Just a bit longer", but then groaned sleepily and realized that uncle still wasn't home, and that she was going to have to prepare the food on her own again. She figured out only a couple of seconds later that, if uncle really wasn't here, then who had whispered in her...?

With a burst of new-found energy, she yanked the sheets off of her, turning to face her small room, eyes glinting with hope that her uncle had returned. Her eyes widened with horror when she was instead faced with a very familiar chubby face and body, standing idly a few feet above the ground, in thin air; aka. Her cousin, Dudley. Her dead cousin.

Her screaming rang throughout the house, before it was stopped by auntie's very own yells of "Shut your trap!". Which was strange, since it was still early and auntie slept till 10 at the very minimum.

Namely, when she came to feed her breakfast, auntie had grumpily and unwillingly asked (and explained) "Why were you causing such a ruckus this morning?! I was taking a bath!". Holly had then turned to face the cause of said mornings ruckus (and the one which she was ignoring all day) and glared at the lazy, floating imitation of her cousin. She had then turned and, ignoring her aunt's previous question, asked why she was even taking a bath (since it was the first one she had done willingly and by herself in weeks).

Her aunt had smiled wickedly, her hair still dripping wet, and simply answered with a sneer "I couldn't stand your germs anymore." And that's where the conversation ended and (surprisingly) both occupants (except for the ignored illusion) of the room were silent until the torture session ended. Then Holly had handed her aunt a fresh towel for her head and left the room without a word, not bothering to hear the older woman's complaints.

To be honest, after Holly had stopped screaming that very morning (on account of her grumpy aunt) all of those bottled up emotions she was feeling came crashing down on her chest and she felt tears start blocking her vision. She was desperately trying to find the words- to grasp the right words for an apology... She was so sorry...

That is until the boy simply looked around her small room (which she was granted to live in not long after Dudley died, not having to live in the cupboard anymore; for which she was eternally grateful) and stated flatly "Hurry up. The good cartoons start now." before floating through the door. She had then blinked, shocked, wiped away her tears and began to fully wake up, convincing herself he was just a part of her imagination.

She was determined to ignore this imitation for the rest of the day and his constant whining of how come they weren't watching any TV. 'No matter how much he sounds like it, he doesn't exist...' She kept telling herself that, sounding less and less convincing each time.

But now, after two torture sessions passed, and her uncle still missing, she could ignore him no longer.

"Why are you here?!" She asked (demanded) a bit too loudly, staring at him with clear narrowed eyes. He seemed surprised at her sudden reaction, so he simply floated down a bit from the air, shrugging "I don't know. I just am."

"Well..." She was thrown off a bit by his answer, expecting a " I've come to haunt you" instead. "Then, what are you?" She stared at his body, which looked solid even though it could float and pass through things.

"Hard to say..." He cocked his head to one side, thinking. "I guess I'm you."

"What? But I'm not a boy." 'Or a fatty' She added to herself. This Dudley was making less sense than the real one. And that was tough to compete with.

"Well I know that. But I'm a part of you."

"Then why won't you go away?" She asked desperately, clutching her head and pleading for this twisted imaginary friend to go away. She opened her eyes; but he was still there, his very existence mocking her brain.

The Dudley smiled (a small, twisted smile which looked more like a smirk) and stated wickedly. "Dunno. Maybe you're not trying enough."

She glared at the small (but still bigger) boy and hissed a reply. "Then if you're so smart, why don't you. Just. Leave?" She growled, prepared for a fight. But his answer was more than satisfactory.

"Whatever. Your no fun anyways." And to her pleasant surprise he floated through the wall.

Her bliss was short lived when he returned five minutes later with crossed chubby arms. "You've got mail." Despite his calm posture, even he seemed startled by his own words. Holly carefully got up and left the table (keeping a close eye on Dudley in case this was a prank) before reaching the hallway. And to her very own horror, Dudley was right.

There, right under the door, laying on the tiles was a letter. Confused as to how she hadn't heard anyone come in, she carefully picked it up. She was stumped to find her name on it.

With the letter in hand she came to the kitchen and carefully opened it, Dudley floating somewhere over her head also staring intently at it.

She had learned to read and write simple enough words recently (a fact she was extremely proud of) so the handwriting was the only problem, until she finally got the hang of it.

Dear Holly

I'm sorry.

I thought I was strong enough...

I'm not.

But you are.

Hate me; don't be sad.

Stay with your aunt...

No matter how hard it may be...

Holly... life is cruel and unpredictable.

It's not beautiful.

It's tragic... and harsh.

At times, it almost destroys you.

But those rare, happy and beautiful moments...

Make it all seem worth while.

Fight and don't ever give in.

Fear it and love it.

And dare to live...

LIVE.

Your bastard idiot uncle

"Well that was short and rude." Dudley murmured above her. He cursed under his breath as a stray fist came flying, dodging it just in time as he floated above her reach, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"What was that for?" He hissed at her.

Holly ignored him and just shook her head, clutching the letter to her body as the tears kept falling, and her chest kept choking with despair.

A couple of hours earlier

The old man re-read the letter, shaking his head at times and mumbling under his breath. He then turned to the man at the table, his face calm and stony, but his gaze soft.

"You'll never see her again... Are you sure this is all you have to say to her?"

The man behind the table, his beady eyes sad and dry and his posture slumped, simply shook his head. His throat was dry and it felt like his heart would stop if he said something.

"Don't you want to tell her...you love her?" The old man inquired; his voice indifferent- yet, it was graced with a hint of hope.

He smiled bitterly; that was the last thing he wanted to write. It was hard to open his mouth and form the words- he felt the tears slide down his cheeks.

"I have no right to."

They stared at each other in silence, and he felt as if the man was staring into the very depths of his soul. Until finally, the geezer whispered.

"You're a good man Dursley."

"I don't need to hear that from you." He sneered back- because he was wrong. Which of any of his past actions made him good? The old fool.

The geezer looked at him sadly, as if he were watching a very sad movie ending. He ignored and whispered his final words, before closing his eyes.

"Just get it over with."

And the old man did- he lifted his long stick and pointed it at him, loudly saying something.

But he didn't hear anything- his very last thoughts were how he wasn't going to be Vernon Dursley anymore... How his entire life so far was going to be rearranged by a complete stranger. And how he will never again remember or see his beloved wife, lost son...and his sweet niece.

'I'm so sorry... Tuney.'

A/N: Annnnnnnnnnd I'm done. *cheers* Finally- my hands hurt.

Well I personally believe this wasn't that bad- of course I might be wrong. But whatever. We finally came to where the fun begins * laughs evilly* Oh and no questions about weird Dudley in this chapter- and before anyone asks he is NOT a ghost -.-

CONGRATULATIONS!

To both WingedWolfbloodWitch and Rianne Black- they were correct about the female character in the last chapter- who was in fact, Hestia Jones. Google if you don't know her.

And I was surprised that nobody knew (or didn't decided to share) the male character. I thought I was obvious but oh well.

THE MALE CHARACTER (The same old man in this chapter) IS:

Albus. PERCIVAL. Wulfric. Brian. Dumbledore.

Yes- please leave your shock for the review section.

ALSO: Despite the fact that nobody answered correctly for both characters- I shall give the reward to WingedWolfbloodWitch- because she had supported me through most of the way and she was the first one that had correctly guessed the female character- Hestia Jones.

I'm really sorry to Rianne Black and I hope she doesn't feel betrayed or angry- I'm really glad she reviewed and answered correctly. Thanks a lot.