The Art of An Ending

Chapter Thirty-Four: One Final Time

Erica fell headlong into sunlight, and her feet found warm ground. When she straightened up, she saw that she was in a nearly deserted playground. A single, huge chimney dominated the distant skyline. Two girls were swinging backwards and forwards, and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too-short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smock-like shirt.

Erica moved closer to the boy. Severus looked no more than nine or ten years old, sallow, small, stringy, and she longed to take him into her arms and care for him. There was an undisguised greed to his thin face as he watched the younger of the two girls swinging higher and higher than her sister.

"Lily, don't do it!" shrieked the elder of the two.

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skywards with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared, like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

"Mummy told you not to!"

Petunia stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground, making a crunching, grinding sound, then leapt up, hands on hips.

"Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!"

"But I'm fine," said Lily, still giggling. "Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do."

Petunia glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from themselves and, though the girls did not know it, Severus. Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Severus lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

"Stop it!" Petunia shrieked.

"It's not hurting you," said Lily, but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.

"It's not right," said Petunia, but her eyes had followed the flower's flight to the ground and lingered upon it. "How do you do it?" she added, and there was a definite note of longing in her voice.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Severus could no longer contain himself, but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran backwards towards the swings, but Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was. Severus seemed to regret his appearance. A dull flush of colour mounted the sallow cheeks as he looked at Lily.

"What's obvious?" asked Lily.

Severus had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia, now hovering beside the swings, he lowered his voice and said, "I know what you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're... you're a witch," whispered Severus.

She looked affronted.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!"

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

"No!" Severus called out. He was highly coloured now, and Erica smiled slightly behind her hand at her Godfather's awkwardness as he headed off after the girls, reminding her a little bit of how she used to act around children, unsure and nervous.

The sisters considered him, united in disapproval, both holding onto one of the swing poles as though it was the safe place in tag.

"You are," said Severus to Lily. "You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard."