Psychopomps are creatures, spirits, or angels who are responsible for escorting deceased souls into the Afterlife. Prominent psychopomps are the Greek ferryman Charon, the Valkyrie from Norse mythology, and the Roman god, Mercury.
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d r a c o
My knees sank into the banks of the pond. The forest ground was soft, damp from the March morning showers, and petrichor filled the air. I stared at my wobbling reflection in the mercury-silver water.
After decades, Dobby's voice still rang clearly in my head. If Master Draco really wants something, all he needs to do is look into the water and wish for it, and it will come true.
I touched the water. It was cold, slippery between my fingers like oil. I wish for Angel to be happy. I wish I could be the man that makes her smile. I wish I was good enough.
But even as I thought these words, my willpower faltered. All this while, I thought Angel and I were destined to be together, but perhaps I was wrong after all. I had no right to keep her, I had done nothing to earn her love.
I stood back up. Wishing was for fools, I decided. The clearing was silent, and the late afternoon filtered through the leaves, casting the place in a warm glow. It was still too early for the Thestrals, they only came in the night.
I found the giant tree root that curved up from the ground like a bench. It had been years since I had last come here with Angel, but the symbol was still there, carved by her into the bark many moons ago - a cross, intersected by a small 'x'. Our symbol. I touched it, the droplets of metallic liquid from my fingers seeping into the indentation. It all seemed so far away now, a reality I would never get back.
I decided to wait for the Thestrals. Sinking onto the tree root, I buried my face in my hands. And like that, I sat for hours. The sun eventually dipped and disappeared. The moon took over, looming over the clearing, bright and larger than life.
Across the pond, the trees rustled and they came into view, majestic as ever. Their boney black figures moved with agile grace as they lowered their necks to the water.
A particular one noticed me, staring curiously. It began to tread through the water towards me, and as it drew closer, I realised it was the same one that had let Angel and I touch it. It seemed to recognise me too. I remained very still as it approached, letting its huge nose snuffle me up and down. Carefully, I lifted a shaking hand.
It bellowed happily, a hollow, light noise that sounded like blowing through a cardboard tube. It touched its nose to my hand. As I ran my hand over its slick pelt, I remembered that night with Angel - how it felt when she had looked at me, over the creature that stood between us.
Our arguments had been replaying over and over in my head the entire evening, a broken record that strove to drive me insane. I pushed it all away now. Those were nothing, just fodder made of smoke and dust that clouded our light.
I decided that I no longer wanted to feel this way, always falling over my shadows. It hurts to live so wide awake, but my life was a gift from Angel, and I will no longer run. Let the Death Eaters come. Let my father come. If they wanted to take her away, or me, they were welcome to try.
As if in agreement, the Thestral lifted its mighty wings and blew urgently, its winter breath seeping into my body through my clothes. Go home now, it seemed to say.
"Thank you," I whispered to it.
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There was once I had sat with Angel in the Astronomy Tower, years ago. I said she shone brighter than a thousand flames; that she was a prism, and if one day darkness were to shroud this world forever, I would still see her colours.
Over the years, my soul had learned to breathe with hers. I knew her face without seeing, her hands without touching, her voice without hearing.
It was through this very innate connection that I knew Angel was gone.
I did not know when, why, or how, but I sensed it the moment I crossed the threshold of our gate. Usually, Rutherford would be around somewhere, but tonight, he was nowhere to be seen. The driveway seemed never-ending as my feet pounded the road. Our house was in darkness. I flung open the door.
Our furniture stared back at me. The air was cold and still, devoid of the warmth Angel carried with her wherever she went.
I tried to ignore the blood beating in my ears as I rushed through the house, calling her name and looking into each room. Empty, empty, empty.
I closed my eyes, telling myself this was a dream. When I opened them, she would be there in the kitchen, making tea. She was not.
She was in the bathroom; I just haven't checked properly. She was not there either.
I willed myself to be calm. She had just gone out for food, or a drink. Perhaps she had gone to meet Hannah or Susan or Lorcan to tell them all about our terrible fight. She would be home in a bit.
I waited on the couch, flicked on the telly. Beauty and the Beast came on - her favourite. I watched it for a while, trying to distract my mind from the wild, pervading thoughts. Outside, the garden was drowned in inky blue, and the crickets had started to sing.
It was now close to midnight. Any moment now, she would burst in, hang her coat, and throw herself onto me laughing, as she always did. I waited some more.
I must have drifted off to sleep at some point, because when I next opened my eyes, the sunlight was already burning my cheeks through the glass doors that led to the garden. I glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty in the morning.
I walked into the kitchen, but Angel wasn't in there making breakfast like she always does. It was only then I remembered she had not been home.
Again, I raced through our house, calling her name. She was not here. My heart was leaping and galloping, like a frantic bird trapped in a cage.
Where was she? She couldn't have been taken by force. The house was immaculate, just as she always left it. She would not have gone without a fight. My mind conjured horrifying images - Angel dead in an alley. Angel running away, suitcase in hand.
At that, I checked our closet. Indeed, some of her clothes were missing. A few T-shirts, jeans, and her favourite white jumper was gone, and so were her trainers. She had run away.
No, I told myself. I was not thinking straight; I was falling back into that same paranoia I vowed to never indulge. She might have just simply gone over at Hannah's or Susan's for the night. She would be back by dinner.
I made breakfast - eggs and sausages - as calmly as I could manage. Then I enchanted the mop to clean the floor, and the dusters to dust the shelves, even though they didn't really need dusting.
When the housekeeping was done, I chose a book on Black Holes and nebulas from the library and curled up on the futon, where I remained for the rest of the day.
The hours flew by. Seven, eight, nine, ten. It was now eleven in the night and still no sign of Angel. It was odd. Angel would never leave on her own accord for so long. Would she?
Desperation had me banging on Codrus' door. He opened, blinking at me in surprise. "Draco! What brings you around this time of-"
"Have you seen Angel?"
"No, mate. Not since day before yesterday," he mumbled.
"What?"
"Yeah. Had an argument, didn't you both? I checked in on her when you left. Haven't seen her since."
"She hasn't been home," I said, almost frantic now. "Do you know where she could be?"
Codrus thought for a moment. "Forgive me for suggesting this," he said slowly. "But could she... could she have up and left, perhaps?"
I recoiled, frowning. "Why would you say that?"
Codrus shook his head. "Nothing. Sorry, it was rude of me to say that."
"No, tell me," I insisted. His eyes darted around, as if unsure of whether to carry on. "It's just- the two of you have been unhappy for a while, yeah?"
"Did she tell you that?"
To my surprise, he nodded. "Sometimes. But only because I'd ask. She's always crying when she does the gardening."
"And what would she say?" I pressed.
"Just that it's been difficult after the war. But she mentioned she hasn't gotten a night's worth of proper sleep since then, what with the nightmares and baby and all that."
My heart felt like it stopped. "What baby?"
"The- the baby she's carrying? You mean she still hasn't..."
It was like the entire sky had fallen onto me. I backed away from Codrus, dizzy with shock. "Sorry mate," he scratched his head in embarrassment. "I thought she would've told you by now. Perhaps she's with a friend. I'm sure she'll be home in a few days and you can-."
I did not get to hear the rest of what he said. I stumbled away from him. I could not breathe. Angel was not dead or in trouble. She had run.
I always told her I never asked for any of the things she had done for me, and now she had left. She did not want to raise a child with me.
Rutherford was rounding the corner from the far end of the street just as I was slipping out Codrus' gate, carrying a tray of fish and chips. I ran up to him.
"Draco! Sorry, I have just popped around the corner for a midnight snack," he began. "There's this chip shop that opens till late and-"
I could not care less about bloody fish and chips. "Where has Angel gone?" I demanded loudly.
"Angel? She left just the day before," he munched. "Packed a suitcase and said she was going on holiday. She told me you knew."
"Holiday!" I sputtered, in complete shock. "Where in Godric's name to?"
He shrugged. "Didn't say. You both had gotten into a major row, no? Heard you shouting from way out here, mind! Maybe she just needs space, take it from an old married man like me. And anyway," - he popped another chip into his mouth - "the further she is from here, the safer. Let's give it a few days. If she doesn't come back then, I'll alert the ministry."
I could barely comprehend what he was saying. Why had Angel gone on holiday all of a sudden? Perhaps she really had gone to stay with Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron, or Susan and her two giant wolves.
I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breaths. Space. She just needed space. And I will give it to her.
No more paranoia, no more hurt. She will come back. I had wished into the Thestral pond, had I not? And Dobby said whatever I wished would come true.
So I believed it would.