Belladonna

Why is it that we believe our parents are eternal? They are not. They are older than we are. It is only logical that their time on Earth seems shorter because for a fraction of their time you didn’t exist. Ofelia couldn’t imagine her father, not being a father. He had always been that caring and paternal man. But there was a time when he had been young, just like she was. There had been a time when he was a man full of dreams, just like her.

Her father had always been communicative with her. He was the type of man that could just sit and talk for hours without running out of saliva in his mouth. But he also was the type to listen. He would sit and listen to you for hours if it was the case: about your day, your thoughts, your doubts. How could he be a talker and a listener at the same time? She had heard the story of how he had met her mother a thousand times (even if the story had become more exaggerated with the years). She didn’t want me, so I serenated to her in front of all of her girlfriends. But then the story evolved to: she didn’t want me, so I gathered all the town together and I paid an orchestra to play while I declare my love for her.

Oh, what would she do just to give him the chance to exaggerate that story a little more? Just one last time. She imagined him sitting in his armchair asking her to tell him about her time at Hogwarts after the winter break, while smoking on his pipe. He would listen attentively, even if what she was saying was not primarily important. He just wanted to know what his daughter had been up to while being so far from him.

She wondered if she knew back then that she wouldn’t have him forever, would she have left to seek revenge or would she have chosen to stay with him in his last months of life? Would she have done it all again if she knew back then what she knew now? She blamed herself, while she watched the coffin go down. She blamed herself for never considering this could ever happen. She was living her life like he was invincible. But she should have known. After losing her mother, how could she not know?

Belladonna went through the funeral in pilot mode. She didn’t look at anyone. She didn’t talk to anyone. She couldn’t. All she felt like doing was crying. She was feeling so vulnerable that she kept herself to her brothers only –and Riddle. She wasn’t talking to them, but at least she would look at them and find comfort in the same grief that they were feeling. Of course, she wasn’t crying in Riddle’s shoulder... She wasn’t that vulnerable.

“Hi...” Aberforth opened the door of his house at Hogsmeade.

“Can I come in?” Ofelia asked with a small voice.

“Of course, darling...”

He couldn’t believe the state in which she was. Her eyes were swollen and red, surrounded by dark clouds. Her mind seemed to be lost or covered by shades. He had never seen her so sulked, but to be honest Ofelia had never felt so gloomy before. All she wanted to do was to crawl up in a bed and cry into a pillow in the dark. And her boyfriend’s bedroom was perfect for it. Always in the dark, hiding in the basement of the house.

“Come here” he brought her into his arms and let her cry in his chest for a while.

She wasn’t sure what to say. She felt like she didn’t have any words left, as if she had lost all the strength of her vocal cords, which many would have been happy for. But not Aberforth, who loved how she would fill the emptyness of his house. 

“What do you need?”

“To rest” she sighed and he nodded leading her to his room. She felt like for the past 16 years, "rest" had not been a part of her life.

They lied in his bed for hours, without saying anything. The feeling of her father’s cold hands in her own skin haunted her. How such a warm man could be so deadly cold? Ofelia tried to comfort herself by thinking that her father had lived a long, full life. Almost 54 years-old. But she felt like she was fooling herself.

Braulio Rizzo lost everything six years ago and he never complained about it. He lost his wife –the love of his life. He lost his friends, his family, his house, his lands. He abandoned his calm and collected lifestyle and his motherland. All in one night. All within an hour. But he never complained. He grabbed a fishing line and got on a boat to provide for three children. But he never complained. He quit his life of leisure and luxury, for a dirty boat that smelled like dead fish, sweat and salt. And he only rewarded himself with some dirty mulberries from the side of the road, every Thursday. After his life turned upside down, he never acquired anything for himself, only bought clothes for his children and things for their house. After his wife died, he never looked at any woman with lust again, let alone romantic love. Only eyes for his children. Only strength for his children. And did he ever complain? No.

Ofelia remembered the time they were shopping at Diagon Ally. Her father had caught her drooling over the new broom that had recently come out. She didn’t ask for it. She knew they couldn’t afford it. But it was her dream to be in the Quidditch team, so her father worked triple shifts and by the end of summer she went to Hogwarts with a broom. It wasn’t the same model, but that didn’t matter at all.

Braulio Rizzo had everything and nothing. That was life. But how could she tell to herself that he had lived a life of his own, when his last years were all about his children and nothing more. Was he actually living then if he was devoted entirely to someone else?

“My papá never cared about making Grindelwald pay” Bella said after a while. “I mean that he sure hated him and resented him, but he focused his life on us.”

“He was a noble man” Aberforth agreed. “I met him for a little time, but I know that he was the living proof of giving everything for your children.”

“I wonder...” she cried. “I wonder if I failed him. He gave everything to us, yet it wasn’t enough for me. Nothing is ever enough for me. But he was conformed with so little.”

“I don’t think he had little. He had you, and for a parent that is everything” he explained. “I bet the reason why he didn’t need to search for justice was because Grindelwald hadn’t take the most important thing in his life. The only thing that gave him strength...”

Maybe he was right. Maybe her father didn’t lose everything that night. But that didn’t help her grief. It made her feel worse. She finally understood her father and now she didn’t have him with her.

School was unbearable. For the first time in history, she was failing all her classes. Mostly because she wasn’t attending to them or because her mind would go away in class. She didn’t care. She wasn’t motivated anymore. Even studying reminded her of him because he wouldn’t congratulate her anymore for being top of her class. Nobody could feel as proud for his daughter as a father can. Nevertheless, teachers didn’t really blame her for her demotivation. They were being considerate as the girl was an orphan now.

Her friends were very comprehensive of her as well. They would support her and hug her and tell her that the pain would eventually become a splinter in her toe. But she hated that image because it meant that it would never go away. She would just need to learn how to live with it. That kicked all the optimism out, and eventually her gloomy aura consumed everyone too. Nobody felt like laughing around her or smiling or being cheerful about anything. Everyone’s energy would run low whenever she was near. And Ofelia became one more ghost of Hogwarts, haunting the halls of the castle, trapped in her own sorrow.

She started to avoid her friends eventually. She couldn’t bare the idea of losing them as well. Because now she understood that everyone would die somewhere, sometime. How could she look at them in the eye’s when all that she could see were corpses?

But it became worse. Her realization of death was so deep now that she even thought of her own death. She used to believe that her imminent death was unstoppable, natural. Now, it haunted her in every corner. She had never been scared of dying before... Clearly, since she entered a war like she was some trained kamikaze. The idea of not being part of this world became terrifying. How could you be living one day and then die later? What would she miss by dying? What would she lose? Where would she go? Her mother had explained the concept of Heaven at an early age, though wizards didn't care much about God. As far as she knew, none of her English friends would think twice about God. None of them prayed actually. Was her mamma disappointed of her for not praying all this years? She had forgotten how to pray by now? Was her father going to Hell for not praying eaither? Would she be tortured in Hell for it as well? 

And her mind became a loop of contradictions flying and darting at each other. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want to see anyone die ever again. How could she not die and not see her friends die? Her brothers, her boyfriend... She decided that she wouldn’t grow old then because she didn’t want to bury anyone else. But sometimes people didn’t die of old age. Sometimes people would get sick or get killed or suffer a heart attack or get in an accident. Millions of muggles die in car accidents every year, she had learnt. Now, the idea of getting one wasn’t so appealing...

So, she questioned herself what to do next. How could she live forever and make everyone around her live forever as well? How could she protect everyone from dying before her? Why couldn’t she just stop time and make everyone freeze, so that she could have them protected, even if it meant just looking at them and not living with them.

Her thoughts were becoming more ridiculous with every minute. Obsessive. She couldn’t do anything to help the matter. Magic wouldn’t go that far. So, while she stood at the edge of the Astronomy tower, she thought that maybe she could just cut the bullshit and die now. That would be easier. She would die before everyone and she would not suffer.

But they would...

And she couldn’t make them suffer like she was suffering now, specially she couldn’t make this to her brothers.

Her soul was so gloomy and her mood was so rainy that she needed something to cheer herself up or she would finally lose it. She wasn’t gaining her strength back. No. She was desperate to try to avoid pain. To avoid herself. Going to class wasn’t an option anymore and sex with Aberforth was impossible too.

She needed another distraction. Something that would cheer her right up. So, she decided it was a good idea to sneak into the Gryffindor Tower. It wasn’t difficult. Nobody noticed her anymore. She entered the boys’ dorm and searched for a tiny bag full of white powder between Potter’s belongings. It wasn’t a secret that Monty was currently doing cocaine. But as she was exiting the dorm, she saw her brother entering his own dorm. That was strange. He was supposed to be in class.

Her curious ass couldn’t stand it and she followed him. She opened the door without knocking and caught him smoking a fag by the window.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“Shit!” he got scared and the cigarette fell out the window. “How did you get in here?”

“That... is none of your business.” She fully entered to the room. “I made you a question.”

“That is none of your business” he repeated.

“I am your older sister.”

“But you are not my mother” he hissed, “and Braulio is not my father either. At least, not this Braulio.”

“I miss him too, fratellino” she said softly. “But you can’t let this destroy you.”

“You are one to talk” he snorted. “What is in that bag, huh?”

Ofelia looked at the small thing hanging from her right hand.

“I’m not stupid” he mumbled. “I know perfectly well what it is.”

“Filipe...”

“Get out of my room, please...”

She did as she was told feeling lost and dejected. The classes were still going, but she couldn’t go. Instead, she went to visit Aberforth knowing that he wouldn’t judge her for just wanting to get distracted from her pain. However, before knocking on his door, she decided to throw the bag of cocaine. She couldn’t allow herself to lose everything. She had to be a better example for her brother, even if she didn’t know how to be it at the moment.

Somehow, her sadness had rubbed off on Forth as well. Her sunny mood was so contagious that Aberforth had buried all his sulky moods deep down into his soul. He didn’t forget about Credence, but Belladonna made his mind clear helping him to cope with the pain. He didn’t know how to do that for her. So now, he had fallen in the same path she had. Crying for his son. Crying for his parents. Even crying for the girl he had met all those years ago and knocked up. Though he would never tell her that.

“I wish he had died after me” Bella cried. “I wish no other kid has to go through this ever again. I wish no one has to see their parents die.”

“But that means that their parents would have to see them die...”

“I don’t care.”

“Bella, believe me” he insisted. “There is nothing worse than losing your child.”

She felt awful after that conversation. She was being very insensitive, but it was because she had never thought about it. What if one day she had some children of her own? Would that mean that they’d be suffering just like she was? Deep down, she knew Aberforth was right. Just the thought of losing her imaginary children broke her, made her shiver.

A sound in the kitchen window made her jump, while she was pouring some water in the morning light.

“Shit” she mumbled, as some of the water had fallen to the ground.

There was an owl standing outside. Theseus Scamander’s owl. Immediately, she opened the window and took the letter. It was addressed to her, so she read it with something burning in her chest. A feeling that she had thought was lost. A feeling that she had thought was long dead.

Dear Bella,

I would like to skip the introduction were I ask you how you are. I know that you are not doing well. I am not going to lie. Dumbledore wrote to me today. Do not be mad at him. After the funeral of your father, I asked him to keep me updated on how you were. I knew that you would not tell me the truth if I asked.

Bella, I know that you are going through a lot right now. Your sadness is completely comprehensible and I trust that when the time is right you will stand up. But there is a difference in mourning and being depressed. I know you feel like nothing makes sense anymore. You have fallen into a hole of confusion and self-introspection, which will end up killing you if you don’t start to climb right back up. People say that you need to bottom out, so that you can go up again. But that is not true. Don’t wait for the bottom because sometimes a hole doesn’t have an end. It just goes on and on. What I’m trying to say is that you can put your life together again only if you want to. If you try to... But only you can pull yourself out of that hole now.

I would not like to bore you with my own past history, but I will just say that I speak from experience. Many years ago, I fought in the muggle world war. I lost many people in the trenches. The truth was that it was a massacre in the front, but also for the horrible conditions in which we had to fight. The rats, the cold and the rain. There was barely food left and the corpses were all around us. The point is that I lost many friends, brothers, and I felt just like you did for a long time. But I pulled myself outside of that hole because there was so much more in life. I had a future.

And you have a bright future waiting for you now. Don’t let it go.

Pain is a part of life. I hope you are smart enough to see that.

Feel free to owl me whenever you need to speak with anyone, kid. I’ll be here for you. We are a team and you are my right-hand man. I hope that this letter helps you in some way. And if it doesn’t, then I hope that you feel like someone gets you at least.

Love,

Theseus Scamander