Zephyr

01

She was begging him. The tears of pain and fear traced her cheeks. She was begging him to spare her only child. He laughed. The shrill, cold laugh froze the cores even of the watching gods above. The gods who had no mercy on the woman begging for the life of her only child. She kept begging to take her instead. But he showed no leniency. There was a flash of green light. A simple green light and two words took a life of another innocent being. The woman lay limp on the floor. He walked forward to the one-year-old. There was another flash of green light and then he vanished. Not the boy. No, the boy, he lived. He lived with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. And he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.....

She stood there. The vision of that boy repeated again in her mind for the thousandth time. She took a deep breath and started walking again. Her feet sank in the sand as beach air filled her nostrils. The wooden stick was still in her hands. She never left it. She waved it and coconut from the tree came to her. The water left a cooling sensation on her skin as the waves came and went.

There was a crack from far away, but she still heard it. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were on the endless sea. She felt the presence of someone else but still, she didn't turn around.

'Zephyr!' said an old voice behind her. She kept staring far away. The loneliness she always felt was gone. There was a pleasant aroma around which she rarely felt. Still looking at the blue water she spoke, 'You took your time Dumbledore, didn't you? I was starting to wonder if I am eleven yet or not.'

Zephyr turned around, for the first time taking her eyes off the sea. An old man with the long silver beard and half-moon spectacles stood in front of her, an amused expression decorating his face.

'It was hard to find you. You were not at your home with your parents-'

'Don't you dare feed me with that lie again. You and I very well know that they aren't my parents! But the question remains who are they?' She spoke in an angry low whisper. Dumbledore stared at her. She felt him invading her mind. She had to be angry about it. But she was not. She simply blocked him. Tiny droplets of water started pouring. Zephyr muttered under her breath and waved the wooden stick.

The water no more touched her. It repelled. Dumbledore was eyeing the wooden stick in her hand. 'Who's wand it is?'

'My real father's. Now if you wish to soak here in rain it's alright or else I invite you into my home.'

She started walking. Faraway she could see an old house. Its structure was decaying. But she didn't complain. After all, it was her home. She kept walking and soon she was in front of her home. Surprisingly it was in good condition. She opened it and waited for Dumbledore to walk in. He walked inside and stood surprised.

Zephyr walked past him in the kitchen and with the help of her wand she made a cup of tea. She walked back inside the living room and found Dumbledore sitting comfortably on the couch. She gave him the cup and sat on one of the armchairs.