Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
My Mother's Friend
I remember when my mum wanted me to meet her friend. I didn't, for a second, believe that he was a friend.
His face had lines that made it look like he was frowning even when his features were completely relaxed. My mother had no lines on her face. His hair was thin and slimy, pressed back across his head. My mother's hair spilled across her shoulders freely in thick, healthy curls. His hair was faded in some parts and dark in others, like a drawing someone had spilled water on and left to dry. My mother's hair was all the deepest, richest black. When he looked at me, he saw an inconvenience.
Pleased to meet you, sir, I said. Always a pleasure to meet one of my mothers friends.
What a charming lad, he cooed.
Isn't he precious? she agreed.
I held my hand out for him to shake.
He put his hand out, too, and patted my head. His other hand was clasped around my mother's.
I let my hand drop to my side. He pretended he didn't notice. He pulled his hand away and hid it in his pocket.
Where will he be attending school?
Beauxbatons, though that's a ways off, isn't it?
Yes, yes, still plenty of time to get ahead. Do you read much, boy?
No, I told him. I liked reading.
Do you like animals? He tried again.
Not particularly, I told him.
That's not true, my mother says. She tries to remember.
Didn't you say the boy had an owl?
He ran away, I told him.
Flew, he corrects me.
No, he ran.
My mother laughs, like I was joking, and watches as I look at him and he looks at me.
Would you like some tea? She's asking her friend.
Yes, that would be fabulous. What was your house elf's name, again? Spunky?
It's Hydrelius, I tell him.
That's an odd name for a house elf.
It's a family name. I smile.
My favorite house elf's name is Nampy, she's very nice. Do you like house elves?
Only some of them, I say. He frowns.
I'll be right back, my mother mumbles as she makes her way towards the kitchen. She steps inside.
Which ones are your favorite? He asks.
The kind with long names.
And why is that, son?
I'm not your son.
Excuse me?
I'm not your son. You're not my father. Don't you touch my mother. I'll know.
His hand went to my head again. This time it wasn't gentle. His other hand clasped his wand. Listen to me, boy, he says, I could have you killed in an instant. Dead. Just like that. The ministry would never know. It would be an accident, a terrible accident. Dead. Just like that. Capiche?
Mother drops the tea tray. What was that? She asks. She knows what he said.
Just talking about the power of purebloods, dear.
Oh, my, I've spilled the tea. I'm so sorry.
Let me help you with that, I say. I lift it up for her.
I think your son would be better off at Durmstrang's, he says.
Yes, I agree, I hear they like poison there. I wave good-bye to my mother's friend.