I wake up early one Saturday morning. I decide to go surprise my mother in her room, because she always sleeps in on Saturday, with a breakfast. I make her some toast and pour her a bowl of cereal, because that's all I know what to make. I pour her a glass of orange juice. She always tells me how important it is to drink a lot of orange juice so you can stay nice and healthy.
I bring the tray of breakfast up to her room, pushing open the door with my foot and entering. But Mummy isn't sleeping, like I expect her to be. She's awake, and looks like she has been for a while. She is looking through newspaper clippings in a box. Her bright red hair is tied back in a loose braid, a hairstyle I’ve tried loads of times but it never seems to work.
"Mummy?"
She turns to me, and quickly puts the lid on the box. "Hello, Cissa,” she says. I don’t like it how her deep brown eyes are filled with sorrow… I wonder what’s wrong?
"I made you breakfast."
She puts the box under her bed and I eye it curiously. She motions me over. "This looks delicious," she says with a smile as I put the tray on her bed.
"What was in that box?"
"Noting, dear, nothing. I was just going through some old things."
I nod, and though not entirely convinced, I turn to leave the room. But as I get to the door, I turn around and look at her, frowning.
“Mummy?”
“Yes?”
“What was his name?”
She pauses, and I can’t help but notice her lips purse in slightly. “Who’s name?” she says. But I know she knows who I’m thinking of.
“My father’s.”
“I’ve told you that I can’t tell you that.”
I frown. I know she thinks I can’t keep it a secret, or that someone will slip it out of me. “It’s not fair,” I say, a whine in my voice.
“Don’t whine, Cissa, it’s not attractive,” she snaps, “I know it’s not fair. And I know it’s not easy. It’s not easy for me, either.”
“Everyone else gets to have two parents, and I only get one, and I don’t even get to know his name, or anything about him, and I want to know!” I complain miserably, folding my arms across my chest, the anger beginning to build up inside of me.
“I can’t tell you! We’ve had this discussion, don’t you remember? Would you like to put our lives and his in danger?”
“I want to know who my father is! You told your friends!” I’m even angrier now, so angry that I’m sure I’m flushed bright red.
She just presses her lips together.
“This is bloody ridiculous!” I yell, my eyes beginning to fill with tears.
“Narcissa Rose! Don’t let me hear a word like that out of your mouth again!”
“You don’t get it! You grew up in a huge family, and you knew all of them! You almost never take me to go see them, because you don’t want to let it slip who my daddy is, and I barely know any of my uncles, and I don’t even know my father, and--”
“Oh, Narcissa--”
“And I hate you!”
Those words sting at her – I can see it in her eyes. She bites her lower lip and I turn out of her room, bolting down the hallway to my room and slamming my door. I hear her footsteps coming towards me. She knocks, and says, “Narcissa?” very quietly, so quiet that I almost don’t hear. She says more, though, “Cissa, please, don’t be mad. It’s just… you wouldn’t understand it – it’s too complicated. Honey, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older. Okay? Narcissa?”
I don’t say anything. I bury my head into my pillow and cry.
***
A little while later, I’m still lying in my bed crying, but now I’m getting hungry. I’ve got what Mummy calls ‘pride’, though, so I don’t go get food. There is a knock on my door. I don’t answer. The door opens.
"Mummy's got to go out for a little while, okay, darling?"
I look up at Mummy as she comes to me. Her fiery hair is tied up neatly (I don’t like that neat bun as much as her braid. I make a mental note to tell her that later), she is wearing high-heels and a nice pair of robes, and has even put on a little bit of lipstick. I nod slightly, brushing away a tear off my face.
"Luna's going to come watch you,” she tells me.
I nod again. I like Luna, even though she's a little weird, and even though she says a lot of weird things.
I can see that Mummy feels bad, seeing me all upset, and I’m not so mad at her anymore. “Mummy? I don’t actually hate you.”
A faint smile takes her lips. “I know,” she says, and I giggle slightly.
Just then Luna popped in, her usual dazed-out expression on. She turns to me, a small, dreamy smile on her pale lips.
“Hello, Ginny.”
"I won't be long," Mummy tells Luna as Luna, her, and I walk out of my room and to the main sitting room. Luna smiles, sits on the couch and puts a stack of papers beside her.
"Don't you worry about time! I have lots I can do. And Narcissa Rose and I will have fun together. Won't we?"
I nod. I know that Luna is one of the only people who know my real name and my real father, because Mummy trusts her. Mummy told her, and one other person, because that person figured it out of her own. Hermione, Mummy's best friend and her sister-in-law, says that the moment she first saw me she recognized my eyes - my father's eyes. Mummy didn't tell her brothers or her parents, though, afraid that someone will suspect that she worked for Voldemort. So, to my relatives, I am "Rose", Mummy's daughter. Mummy doesn't tell them who my father is, although Uncle Ron and Harry Potter, the one who defeated Lord Voldemort, have tried numerous times to figure it out. My middle name is Rose, though, so I don't mind them calling me that. Besides, Mummy tells me that when she and Daddy spoke once, years and years ago, he said he liked the name Rose. She hasn’t forgotten that.
Mummy nods her head slowly, and then Apparates away. Luna turns to me. “I’m going to get started on this.”
“More Quibbler work?” I ask.
Luna is the editor for “The Quibbler”. She took over the company when her father was killed in the War, using the magazine to send secret messages out (the secret messages in the magazine are hard to find, but if you know what you’re looking for, you can find it. Mummy showed me one once and explained it to me) and, as always, reveal the truth. Of course, although this truth is really crazy stuff, Luna believes it’s true. Mummy tells me never to tell Luna that something doesn’t exist, because, if Luna thinks it’s true, it might well be.
“Yes, I’ve got lots of interesting stories to look over. This one talks about Findleminnies. Do you know what Findleminnies are?”
“No.”
“Findleminnies are in your water. You can’t see them, because they’re so microscopic, but…” as she talks on, I tune her out, getting a surge of excitement suddenly. Mummy was gone. I could go look in those boxes. I could go look in them and find out what’s inside and what Mummy was looking at. It’s probably nothing that important, but why wouldn’t she let me see? And even if she comes home early and sees me in the boxes, I know she won’t be mad, because we just had an argument, and Mummy hates it when we have arguments, so she won’t want to start another one. “…and so, if you know the spell, you can make sure there aren’t any in your water.”
“That’s very interesting,” I tell Luna, smiling slightly and turning to bolt up the stairs.
I hear her humming lightly as I turn down the hall and hurry over to Mummy’s room. As I open her door, my heart pounds fast. I walk over to her bed and look under. There is one box, which I pull out and put beside me on the bed. Mummy put it there freely, trusting me. This is betraying her trust, I think with a frown. But I won’t tell her. If she can keep secrets from me, I can keep secrets from her.
I, taking in a deep breath, open the box. On the top is a newspaper clipping:
“SON OF LUCIUS MALFOY MISSING
Draco Malfoy, 17, son of the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, went missing recently. There has been no sign of him since the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In that year, Harry Potter discovered that he was, indeed, a Death Eater, like his father…”
I furrow my brows curiously. Could he be it? This – Draco Malfoy? There’s no picture on it. Mummy said that he had once been involved with Voldemort.
I pull out the next newspaper clipping.
“THE WAR OVER – WHERE ARE THE MISSING DEATH EATERS?
The great defeat over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by Harry Potter has left us in slight worry. Although he is now gone, follows still roam…”
I skim further down the article.
“Draco Malfoy, 21.”
I put the article back, picking out another.
“SOME MISSING DEATH EATERS FOUND
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, both 24, have been found. Even though their leader perished three years ago, they remained, and Harry Potter, who went to school with them, found them and now they are in Azkaban Prison. There is still no sign of Draco Malfoy, who, according to Harry Potter is “the leader of the three of them, he always had been in school.” Harry Potter also tells us that he would like to see Draco Malfoy locked up…”
Another article reads:
“FATHER OF MISSING DEATH EATER KILLED
Lucius Malfoy was killed earlier this week by seven Aurors, although there still is no sign of his son, Draco Malfoy. How this death will affect the boy, we do not know. Perhaps he will turn up…”
And another:
“NARCISSA MALFOY, DEAD
Draco Malfoy, still missing, has now lost his mother, as well. These tragic events lead one to believe that Draco Malfoy himself may be dead, as well. We do not know the cause of her death. No one seems to know how she died…”
As I fish through the articles, I find that they are all very similar. But, at the bottom of the pile of clippings is a letter in a small, white envelope. There is no return address on it. On the front, it says, simply:
“Ginny Weasley.”
I bring the tray of breakfast up to her room, pushing open the door with my foot and entering. But Mummy isn't sleeping, like I expect her to be. She's awake, and looks like she has been for a while. She is looking through newspaper clippings in a box. Her bright red hair is tied back in a loose braid, a hairstyle I’ve tried loads of times but it never seems to work.
"Mummy?"
She turns to me, and quickly puts the lid on the box. "Hello, Cissa,” she says. I don’t like it how her deep brown eyes are filled with sorrow… I wonder what’s wrong?
"I made you breakfast."
She puts the box under her bed and I eye it curiously. She motions me over. "This looks delicious," she says with a smile as I put the tray on her bed.
"What was in that box?"
"Noting, dear, nothing. I was just going through some old things."
I nod, and though not entirely convinced, I turn to leave the room. But as I get to the door, I turn around and look at her, frowning.
“Mummy?”
“Yes?”
“What was his name?”
She pauses, and I can’t help but notice her lips purse in slightly. “Who’s name?” she says. But I know she knows who I’m thinking of.
“My father’s.”
“I’ve told you that I can’t tell you that.”
I frown. I know she thinks I can’t keep it a secret, or that someone will slip it out of me. “It’s not fair,” I say, a whine in my voice.
“Don’t whine, Cissa, it’s not attractive,” she snaps, “I know it’s not fair. And I know it’s not easy. It’s not easy for me, either.”
“Everyone else gets to have two parents, and I only get one, and I don’t even get to know his name, or anything about him, and I want to know!” I complain miserably, folding my arms across my chest, the anger beginning to build up inside of me.
“I can’t tell you! We’ve had this discussion, don’t you remember? Would you like to put our lives and his in danger?”
“I want to know who my father is! You told your friends!” I’m even angrier now, so angry that I’m sure I’m flushed bright red.
She just presses her lips together.
“This is bloody ridiculous!” I yell, my eyes beginning to fill with tears.
“Narcissa Rose! Don’t let me hear a word like that out of your mouth again!”
“You don’t get it! You grew up in a huge family, and you knew all of them! You almost never take me to go see them, because you don’t want to let it slip who my daddy is, and I barely know any of my uncles, and I don’t even know my father, and--”
“Oh, Narcissa--”
“And I hate you!”
Those words sting at her – I can see it in her eyes. She bites her lower lip and I turn out of her room, bolting down the hallway to my room and slamming my door. I hear her footsteps coming towards me. She knocks, and says, “Narcissa?” very quietly, so quiet that I almost don’t hear. She says more, though, “Cissa, please, don’t be mad. It’s just… you wouldn’t understand it – it’s too complicated. Honey, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older. Okay? Narcissa?”
I don’t say anything. I bury my head into my pillow and cry.
***
A little while later, I’m still lying in my bed crying, but now I’m getting hungry. I’ve got what Mummy calls ‘pride’, though, so I don’t go get food. There is a knock on my door. I don’t answer. The door opens.
"Mummy's got to go out for a little while, okay, darling?"
I look up at Mummy as she comes to me. Her fiery hair is tied up neatly (I don’t like that neat bun as much as her braid. I make a mental note to tell her that later), she is wearing high-heels and a nice pair of robes, and has even put on a little bit of lipstick. I nod slightly, brushing away a tear off my face.
"Luna's going to come watch you,” she tells me.
I nod again. I like Luna, even though she's a little weird, and even though she says a lot of weird things.
I can see that Mummy feels bad, seeing me all upset, and I’m not so mad at her anymore. “Mummy? I don’t actually hate you.”
A faint smile takes her lips. “I know,” she says, and I giggle slightly.
Just then Luna popped in, her usual dazed-out expression on. She turns to me, a small, dreamy smile on her pale lips.
“Hello, Ginny.”
"I won't be long," Mummy tells Luna as Luna, her, and I walk out of my room and to the main sitting room. Luna smiles, sits on the couch and puts a stack of papers beside her.
"Don't you worry about time! I have lots I can do. And Narcissa Rose and I will have fun together. Won't we?"
I nod. I know that Luna is one of the only people who know my real name and my real father, because Mummy trusts her. Mummy told her, and one other person, because that person figured it out of her own. Hermione, Mummy's best friend and her sister-in-law, says that the moment she first saw me she recognized my eyes - my father's eyes. Mummy didn't tell her brothers or her parents, though, afraid that someone will suspect that she worked for Voldemort. So, to my relatives, I am "Rose", Mummy's daughter. Mummy doesn't tell them who my father is, although Uncle Ron and Harry Potter, the one who defeated Lord Voldemort, have tried numerous times to figure it out. My middle name is Rose, though, so I don't mind them calling me that. Besides, Mummy tells me that when she and Daddy spoke once, years and years ago, he said he liked the name Rose. She hasn’t forgotten that.
Mummy nods her head slowly, and then Apparates away. Luna turns to me. “I’m going to get started on this.”
“More Quibbler work?” I ask.
Luna is the editor for “The Quibbler”. She took over the company when her father was killed in the War, using the magazine to send secret messages out (the secret messages in the magazine are hard to find, but if you know what you’re looking for, you can find it. Mummy showed me one once and explained it to me) and, as always, reveal the truth. Of course, although this truth is really crazy stuff, Luna believes it’s true. Mummy tells me never to tell Luna that something doesn’t exist, because, if Luna thinks it’s true, it might well be.
“Yes, I’ve got lots of interesting stories to look over. This one talks about Findleminnies. Do you know what Findleminnies are?”
“No.”
“Findleminnies are in your water. You can’t see them, because they’re so microscopic, but…” as she talks on, I tune her out, getting a surge of excitement suddenly. Mummy was gone. I could go look in those boxes. I could go look in them and find out what’s inside and what Mummy was looking at. It’s probably nothing that important, but why wouldn’t she let me see? And even if she comes home early and sees me in the boxes, I know she won’t be mad, because we just had an argument, and Mummy hates it when we have arguments, so she won’t want to start another one. “…and so, if you know the spell, you can make sure there aren’t any in your water.”
“That’s very interesting,” I tell Luna, smiling slightly and turning to bolt up the stairs.
I hear her humming lightly as I turn down the hall and hurry over to Mummy’s room. As I open her door, my heart pounds fast. I walk over to her bed and look under. There is one box, which I pull out and put beside me on the bed. Mummy put it there freely, trusting me. This is betraying her trust, I think with a frown. But I won’t tell her. If she can keep secrets from me, I can keep secrets from her.
I, taking in a deep breath, open the box. On the top is a newspaper clipping:
“SON OF LUCIUS MALFOY MISSING
Draco Malfoy, 17, son of the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, went missing recently. There has been no sign of him since the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In that year, Harry Potter discovered that he was, indeed, a Death Eater, like his father…”
I furrow my brows curiously. Could he be it? This – Draco Malfoy? There’s no picture on it. Mummy said that he had once been involved with Voldemort.
I pull out the next newspaper clipping.
“THE WAR OVER – WHERE ARE THE MISSING DEATH EATERS?
The great defeat over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by Harry Potter has left us in slight worry. Although he is now gone, follows still roam…”
I skim further down the article.
“Draco Malfoy, 21.”
I put the article back, picking out another.
“SOME MISSING DEATH EATERS FOUND
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, both 24, have been found. Even though their leader perished three years ago, they remained, and Harry Potter, who went to school with them, found them and now they are in Azkaban Prison. There is still no sign of Draco Malfoy, who, according to Harry Potter is “the leader of the three of them, he always had been in school.” Harry Potter also tells us that he would like to see Draco Malfoy locked up…”
Another article reads:
“FATHER OF MISSING DEATH EATER KILLED
Lucius Malfoy was killed earlier this week by seven Aurors, although there still is no sign of his son, Draco Malfoy. How this death will affect the boy, we do not know. Perhaps he will turn up…”
And another:
“NARCISSA MALFOY, DEAD
Draco Malfoy, still missing, has now lost his mother, as well. These tragic events lead one to believe that Draco Malfoy himself may be dead, as well. We do not know the cause of her death. No one seems to know how she died…”
As I fish through the articles, I find that they are all very similar. But, at the bottom of the pile of clippings is a letter in a small, white envelope. There is no return address on it. On the front, it says, simply:
“Ginny Weasley.”
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