Death ➹ Harry Potter

Unpredictability of Death

It was his birthday today, not that many people cared. His relatives probably didn't even remember that today was the day he was born, if they did they would have tried to make this day worse for him.

Not that it mattered, he had long since realized that mutual hate was the only thing that linked him to the giraffe, the walrus and the piglet. He was, however, excited for today because Freya was kidnapping him after school to celebrate. He couldn't deny the fact that he was excited to receive a gift from her.

 Last year she had given him a picture of his parents that he kept hidden and on his person all the time. It was the greatest gift he had ever received, especially because it was a picture of their wedding. The years before that she told him the truth, his relatives had lied about his parent's deaths. They weren't drunks, nor did they die in an accident. She had told him that they were soldiers who had fought a civil war and had been killed by the other side. She didn't give him many details, and he could tell that she wasn't telling him something big but he knew that eventually, she would explain. She hated lies, so she never lied and she had told him she would tell him at a later date. 

"Happy day of birth brat." She greeted when she saw him. Of some weird reason that was the way she always said happy birthday. 

"Thanks, antisocial older brat." He replied with a bit of snark. This was how they worked, she would call him a brat and he would sass right back at her. She would smirk at his snarky attitude, as if proud of his response, and the conversation would move along. 

"Are you ready for your presents this year?" She inquired, observing him with her old dead-like eyes. 

"I'm always ready for presents." He replied, wondering what this year was all about. 

"This year is going to be a little bit different." She said, throwing a helmet into his hands and nodding towards a black motorcycle. "Hop on kid, we have places to be." 

"Since when can you drive?" He asked frowning. Freya on a motorcycle? That's what people meant as a danger on the road, this wasn't something good for his health for sure. 

"Stop being whiny." She replied with a smirk, already starting the engine. "If I wanted to kill you I would other, more fun, ways to do so." 

Accepting that as a universal truth he decided to shrug the uncertainty from his body and got on the death-trap. 

---

"Where are we?" He asked, looking at his surroundings. He wasn't sure how long they were driving, but he knew he was far away from Privet Drive and London. They finally stopped on some kind of rural village but Freya still hadn't said anything yet. 

"This place is called Godric's Hollow." Freya replied, turning of the motorcycle. "This is where you lived when you were a child."

"What?" He asked, perplexed. The only place he remembers ever living in is with his relatives, which means he probably lived here when he was a baby, with his parents. 

"Come." Freya said, walking towards the village square where he could see from a distance an obelisk. He followed her and has he reached the obelisk his life changed because where once stood a tall stone monument was a smaller stature. As if it was magic, it changed from a stone obelisk to a stone statue. 

"Freya, what the hell?" He asked, gapping at the statue with wide eyes. "Did this thing really just change?"

"Magic." She replied with a solemn look on her face, but he could also see some amusement from his reaction on her eyes. "Look at the statue and tell me what you see." 

I decided to not focus on the weird response and looked at the statue in front of me. It had a man and a woman sitting side by side while the woman had a baby in her arms, he felt strange looking at the statue but he couldn't put it into words. He gave Freya a questioning look.