Missing a brother

Character(s): not who you may initially expect...

They had always been a pair, he and his brother. Especially during that last year together...on the run from snatchers, all sorts of shady death eaters out for their blood...they had never asked to be muggle born.

Why had they been so despised?

Why did Colin have to die?

Dennis Creevey was outside in the alley by Ollivanders, hiding from the busy streets, as a new sharp wave of sadness hit him.

The wizarding world had been so amazing when he first got his letter. Magic was real! Brooms flew! Owls could bring you letters! Ghosts were at your school! Hats could talk! And you even could run into famous sorts who took down evil, like Harry Potter. Colin had told him so much about Hogwarts after his first year, that Dennis had mourned at the thought he might not get to go.

For weeks following Colin's first year, the brothers tried to get Dennis to show signs of magic as well, surely if Colin could do magic, Dennis could. Nothing had worked... It was nearing the end of June when Dennis threw a shoe at his brother in frustration, and to both of their amazement the shoe exploded into confetti. Now, there was no sure telling that this was Dennis, but by the time he was eleven he too had received a letter.

Being a wizard had been a dream... and then darker truths had been revealed.

He and his brother were hated because there parents were normal? For being muggles? What was wrong with all that? Why did it matter his father was a milkman, and that his mother a school teacher?

Colin had advised he ignore it, but so much of their lives began to be wrapped up in the terrible darkness that Voldemort was spreading around like a plague, that is was hard to ignore. You couldn't avoid a terrible illness that sought out to destroy you from within, and you couldn't ignore a bunch of terrorists running around in robes and wielding wands like guns, who delighted in taking innocent lives. That's what Voldemort and the death eaters were... a terrible sickness.

And when the sickness that was hate ran its course, Dennis was left mourning a brother.

Dennis bit back a sob, his hand flying to his face as he thought of his poor, brave older brother. How could this have happened? Why had he been left all alone? He would have traded all the wonder of the magical world so he could have his brother back...

"Hello there young man..." a rough old voice interrupted Dennis' muffled sobs, and mournful wishes.

The young boy sprang up wiping his face quick, and looked into an old and surprisingly understanding face.

"Mr. Ollivander, sir," Dennis whispered, his voice thick and nasally from his tears.

"...Hawthorn, black with cracked markings, nine inches, and with the very rare Unicorn tears as a core...am I right?" The old man asked, his hands folded passively in front of him.

It took Dennis a moment, and then he nodded, "That...that was my brother's wand. Yes. yes."

"And yours, also Hawthorn, black and flexible with an eleven inch length, and a unicorn hair..." Ollivander continued.

"Yes, it-it was. Mine was broken during...during last year-" Dennis swallowed remember that his wand had broken when he and his brother had returned to Hogwarts to witness the final battle. Colin found one of his friends, Betty Bagger, told Dennis to go with her. Dennis has obeyed, scared and frightened of the chaos around him. Colin has smiled, unknowingly for the last time, promised to be back, a promise her would break, and turned and ran for the battle. Colin's wand held aloft, was the last sight Dennis had of his brother.

Ollivander's eye gave an odd twinkle, and he reached out putting and arm around Colin's shoulder, "You have your brother's wand on you don't you?"

Dennis nodded, and pulled out his brother's wand, something he had been carrying with him since Colin's death. Ollivander brushed his finger tips along the wood, and looked at Dennis, "Wands are mysterious. I have often claimed wands choose the wizard, and this wand is calling to you now. You will find that this wand will be more than satisfactory."

Dennis swallowed hard and looked at what was once his brother's wand. "I don't understand..." he admitted, voice weak and small.

"Sometimes you can't make sense of something that has happened. But it doesn't change that it has indeed happened. This wand, missing a master, is calling out to you. You are missing the owner of that wand, and I somehow felt the need to check the alley by my shop," Ollivander squeezed the boys shoulder, and with sad pale eyes continued to speak softly, "The world is fantastical place, ful of mystery and magic. Don't be too surprised... just try to accept it and live with the great changes. And reach out for others when you find yourself in need."

Dennis took in a shuddering breath, at a loss for words. His eyes closed, and he tried to open his mouth, but only a dry sob escaped him.

As he clung to his brother's wand, that he would now call his own, he allowed Ollivander, probably one of the greatest wand makers in the world, to hold him as he mourned.

Colin, with his artistic eye, would have loved to take a picture of this moment.

End