A New Dawn

1

          "You mustn't fret, dear Angelina. We've been training you up all summer, you're practically a fourth-year in terms of skills as is," Professor Fig says as he looks at me with a gentle smile. 

          I feel a bit of the heaviness sitting itself on my chest get up and walk away, though only a short distance.

        "Your compliments mean more than I let on Professor, so...thank you. I suppose the day was going to arrive all the same, anyhow. There's no avoiding it." 

          Fig is the closest thing I've had to a father. I involuntarily let a grimace slip itself onto my features as I am reminded of my biological father, if he can even be declared as much. Gregory Starling. A pure-blooded maniac through and through. How disgusted he was when he found out that he had gotten my muggle-mother pregnant. Accepting her eventually, though nothing good ever did last, did it? Sweet, ditsy Elizabeth Starling. What nobody seemed to care about was the fact that she was just as deadbeat of a parent as my paternal figure. Clenching my fists at the mere thought of them, the audacity is what continues to astound me. I can feel Fig's careful watch on my face so I immediately slip on a more neutral expression. He has done enough for me as is, I don't  want him more worried than he already is at present. I turn my head toward the sky in hopes of further shielding my expression, but I am surprised to find that a carriage is headed in our direction. It appears that it is being pulled by some sort of horse with wings. Looking to be rather spindly, its bones looked as if they were begging for a release, carrying all the world's baggage in its lower rib cage. How ghastly, or maybe they are hauntingly beautiful. I'm not sure of my analysis. Even as the creature, draped in a dark purple colour, lands the carriage right next to Fig and myself. I figure them to be tame enough so I walk up to them how I would any horse and begin to lightly pet one on the top bit of his head. 

          Professor Fig looks as if something has hit him square in the heart as he turns to speak to me, "You can see them? The thestrals, I mean."

           "Oh, is that what they're called? Can't everyone?" I reply with a confused look on my face.

           Professor Fig clears his throat, a bold hesitance trailing after his words as he speaks, "Well, no, I can't see them. The goal is to never have to see them, actually. I've only ever seen drawings, only been told by others of their quirks. You can only see thestrals if you've seen someone else die". 

          Oh. I drop my hand from the thestral and back up slightly. All of a sudden the creatures' baggage makes sense to me. They hold the weight of every untold story, every unseen sorrow, carrying the burdens of those who can no longer bear to carry it themselves. Though, I happened to carry my burdens just fine myself, thank you. I have had the pleasure of finding strength in the darkness, becoming companions with it along the journey. Even if I had seen dear old dad die, I can't say I regretted it. I only regretted that Professor Fig now pitied me. 

         So I turn back to him and continue my petting of the thestrals, "Well. What a welcome to the real wizarding world, then".