Drabble- A mother visits her dying son to bring him into the afterlife.
Authors notes: This just popped into my head last night and wouldn't let me sleep until I got it down on paper. Hope you like it.
Drabble : A mother's visit.
' Today is the day that my son dies. I can sense it.
'His cause of death will not be old age or disease. He will die at the hands of another wizard.
I don't hate him, the one who kill my son, I can't. I know what his childhood was like, what both their childhoods were like. He and my son both suffered greatly during their childhoods. Both were victim to vicious beatings by their guardians, horrendous verbal abuse, loneliness and hatred.
Neither one knew why they had been hated so much, had never been hugged or comforted. They didn't know why until they had entered through the gates of Hogwarts, where they learned that the cause of the hatred they had been subjected to.
Learning that they were hated merely because they had the gift of magic did not lessen the pain; it made the pain worse in some ways.
The hatred towards both of them did not stop once they entered the world of magic. It grew even greater, even more malicious and crueler.
Both of them were insulted, belittled and threatened by small-minded individuals who believed themselves better simply because of a name.
Both had been forced to leave the one place they called home, the castle of Hogwarts, and return to the place that had caused them so much pain in their early years, the buildings where they spent their miserable childhoods.
He's growing weak now, my son. He has entered the final duel of his life.
It's nearly time for him to leave this world of pain and suffering.
I'm coming for him, moving slowly and unseen across the grounds of Hogwarts passing the bodies of fallen witches and wizards.
This is the final battle, the endgame of the war that rages across this land, this plane of life.
The one who loved my son with all her heart lies dead. Her face is unblemished, her chest sliced wide open, and her dark hair is spread out in a halo around her head.
He never knew how deeply she cared for him. If he had, maybe he would have know the warmth that a lover can be. Maybe she could have brought even the tiniest amount of light into the darkness of his life. Maybe they can be happy together, on the other side; like His father and I.
He's grown very weak now, he can barely stand on his feet.
I can see them now, my son and his killer. They're both weak and injured. They continue to dance around one another, firing curses and dodging them drunkenly.
With each spell they grow weaker. Exhaustion, physical and magical, is taking it's toll.
The next pair of spells will end this, I know it.
The killer fires a stunner and a killing curse in rapid succession. My son blocks the stunner, but doesn't see the killing curse in time.
The anger behind the curse flings his body backwards several feet. A large pulse of magic signifies that the prophecy has been fulfilled.
The killer wobbles on his feet, drops his wand and passes out, his magical strength has left him. He won't die today. He won't see his own mother just yet.
I look at the body of my son and see his spirit begin climb from it's broken, battered disfigured home.
I reached down and helped him, he looks so much like his father now.
He takes my hand and looks up, his eyes filling with unshed tears as he sees my face. "Mother?" he asks softly.
"Yes, my son. It's time t come home, your father's waiting for us."
Before I lead my son into the light I kneel before his killer and stroke his forehead.
"Sleep well," I whisper to him, knowing that he'll hear me. " Your fighting's done, Mr. Potter."
Final note, this was written using pre HBP non-psychotic, sociopathic soul splitting Voldemort.