Liar. Harry Potter's sister ~ Book 2

chapter fourteen

It's terrifying how lonely you can feel, even when you're surrounded by more people than ever. That's how I feel right now. After all those years tucked away in the orphanage and those long, everlasting six weeks I spent alone here, at Hogwarts during the summer and I was still more alone than ever. It's as if nobody even bothers to care anymore. Like I'm separate from the crowd. Like I'm just a spec of dust on your clothes that you brush away without a second thought. I've given up trying to convince people the truth. Given up trying to be good for people when I know I'm just going to be shot down anyway.

"What are they?" I ask, my face blank, as I found myself in the company of Luna Lovegood at the edge of the forest. Her dirty-blonde hair was being held by her wand in a loose knot at the back of her head and she was wearing an odd pair of earrings that looked to be models of small radishes.

"They're called Thestrals," Luna says, her dreamy eyes fixed on the winged skeletal-like horses in front of us in admiration. She reaches a hand up and strokes the side of what I presumed was it's neck. "They're quite gentle, really, but people avoid them because they're a bit..."

"Different." I breathe out. The cold wind prickles at my cheeks and on the back of my neck, making me shiver slightly, but I didn't mind. My head tilts slightly, to see a pair of baby Thestrals rolling around in the leaves and mud, play fighting with each other. I smile genuinely for the first time in days. Luna begins to walk forward. My eyes are pulled away from the baby Thestrals and kick off at a jog to catch up with her.

"But... why can't the others see them?" I say, when I reach her side, once again.

"They can only be seen by people who have seen death." She says, with a smile frighteningly wide for somebody talking about death. My organs suddenly seem way to big for my body and my chest tightens. I haven't really talked about Cedric properly a lot and it still hurts when someone brings it up: it's like I'm relapsing into that moment all over again. I look down. I feel her cold, pale hand slip into mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. I look up and she smiles at me, her eyes big and dreamy.

"So... so you've seen somebody die?" I ask cautiously, but sorrowfully, knowing it can be a touchy subject for anybody to talk about. She nods.

"My mum," She says, simply, opening up a leather satchel, that hung loosely over her shoulder, and pulling out a shiny, red apple. She threw the apple onto the floor in front of the Thestral, who ducked its head, sniffed it, curiously and took it into its mouth gratefully. "She was quite an extraordinary witch, but she did like to experiment and one day one of her spells went badly wrong. I was nine."

"I'm sorry..." I mutter, not really knowing what else to say.

"Yes it was rather horrible," she says controversially, "I do feel very sad about it sometimes- but I've got Daddy..." my eyes divert to the sky to see a Thestral, with its wings spread wide soaring above our heads.

"We both believe you by the way." She says. My gaze is fixed on her wide, hazy eyes. My eyebrows furrow. "And Harry- that He Who Must Not Be Named is back and that the both of you fought him, and the Ministry and the Prophet are conspiring against you and Dumbledore."

"Thank you," I speak, purposefully stepping on a twig to hear the satisfying crack under my foot. "You seem to be about the only people who do."

"I'm sure that's not true..." She says, her pale lips stretched into a pearly smile, "But I suppose that's how he wants you to feel."

"What do you mean?" I say, gathering up the courage and cautiously stroking my hand against the rough skin of the Thestral's neck.