Notes: This chapter will be a bit longer than usual. :)
Chapter Six - The Picture
I woke feeling much better. I dreamt of old memories with Mother. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered her sad expression before the accident. She had been thinking of Father...
I got dressed with some old clothes Mrs Weasley had given me and stepped out of the room. I nearly groaned when I heard the woman talking loudly and angrily.
So far, my stay at the Burrow was becoming rather negative. I wondered why Mrs Weasley and Uncle didn't get along. Mother had told me about the Weasley unity, but it seemed to have been broken during the years she lived away from them.
"I'm just saying he needs better clothes than my old hand-me-downs!" Uncle bellowed. I shuddered as I made my way to the bathroom.
It seemed that my stay was making them argue all the time. Were they always like that? Or did they really argue only because of me? I didn't want to interfere in their lives like that.
Once I was done in the bathroom, I went downstairs. The argument had been dropped, and Mrs Weasley was busy cooking breakfast. Uncle was reading what seemed to be the newspaper. "Good morning," I said politely, sitting next to him.
Uncle looked at me and smiled slightly. "Morning, John," he said, ruffling my already messy hair.
"Good morning, Johnny!" Mrs Weasley said cheerfully.
Inwardly, I groaned. The woman was trying horribly hard to get me to trust her. It happened so many times with most of my Nannies, I was actually good at guessing when someone was doing it.
Only one Nanny got on my good graces without effort. She was rather strict and simply told me what to do. She also taught me how to write and read in Spanish. If I recall correctly, she had left Cuba decades ago and worked in houses, looking after children or cleaning.
Uncle was not trying at all. That made me trust him. And also the fact that he was one of Mother's best friends. "What would you like to eat?" Mrs Weasley asked, still smiling.
I shrugged. "I don't have a preference, Mrs Weasley. Anything would be fine."
"He reminds me so much of his father. Always polite," she said looking at me like Aunt Geraldine used to look at me.
Breakfast was over in less than an hour. And I had to admit she cooked very well. Had I been a person who could be easily won by their stomach, I would have been hugging her like a leech.
Uncle stood up and motioned for me to follow him. We walked outside, where the sun was shining, but the air was still cool. "John," he started, looking uncomfortable. "Do you want to come with me... to um, your grandparents' house? I need to pick your things, and maybe you can take anything else, before the Muggles do."
I tensed and looked down at my feet. It would be good if we got there on time. Aunt Geraldine would probably get the house and whatever was in it. I looked up at him and nodded. "I'll go with you."
He didn't question me further, and simply stretched out his hand to me. "Hold onto my hand. This will feel a bit weird, but it'll only last a few seconds." I took his hand and closed my eyes. Mother had told me about Apparition, a way of traveling for wizards and witches. It felt as if one was being squeezed into a tube, she had said.
And it was true.
When the strange sensation left my body, I opened my eyes. We were in a train station, but it was completely empty. I looked up questionably at Uncle and he smiled sheepishly. "I haven't been at your house before, so I can't apparate there directly. We're at King's Cross, we'll walk through the barrier to the Muggle station and call a cab." He wrinkled his nose. "I hope I brought enough Muggle paper."
"Muggle paper?" I asked confusedly. He took out a note and I realized he meant Muggle money. Right, wizards used coins... "Oh, well, I suppose I can help you with that," I said as he handed me more notes. He had a hundred pounds in total, which hopefully would be enough.
We went into the Muggle part of the station, where a lot of people were walking around, getting into the train and out. No one paid attention to us when we walked through the strange barrier.
Once in the parking lot, Uncle called a cab by whistling. I blushed in embarrassment as everyone turned to look at us, while he waved at the old driver to come over for us. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long to hide inside the car. "To Harrison Street, number 6314," Uncle said, looking at a small piece of paper he had taken out of his coat.
With a slight nod, the driver sped off. It took an hour to get there, but we eventually made it. I helped paying the fee, which was nearly half of what Uncle had brought with him. But he didn't look concerned. When we got out of the car and it was far from us he smiled. "Now that I know where it is, I can simply apparate back here."
There was an awkward silence as the two of us stood in the front door. "We should go in," I said looking up at him. He nodded, and took out his wand. With a small movement and a whispered "Alohomora" the door's lock clicked open.
The house was dark and empty. I remember staying there by myself a couple of times, when both my grandparents worked or had some charity dinner, Mother was taking some courses and my current Nanny couldn't come. I was never scared of being there alone, the house had had a warm feeling to it.
But standing there with Uncle, knowing that Mother would never return, I felt as if the house was a cold prison cell. "Where is your room?" Uncle asked softly, looking around.
"Over here," I said with a bit of a struggle. I led him to my bedroom. It was next to Mother's.
When we entered my room, Uncle whistled. "Nice!" he said. "You've got a lot of things here." He took out a couple of small boxes from his pocket and placed them on the floor. "Engorgio," he said, flicking his wand at them.
Instantly, the boxes became bigger, and I realized they were old-looking trunks. Very similar to Mother's old trunk that she kept in her room. I wondered if I should take it later...
Uncle walked up to my small bookshelf and snorted. "You read all these, John?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to hide a smirk.
With a shake of his head and a flick of his wand, the bookshelf was shrunk and Uncle placed it inside one of the trunks. "Wow," I said looking at the small furniture with all the small books. "That's great, Uncle. This could save us a lot of time."
"Yup! Still can't figure how Muggles can live without magic..." he muttered as he turned, to find more things to shrink, probably.
I turned to my nightstand and grabbed a picture of Mother and I of when I was three years old. I was a bit chubby back then and my hair was much messier. Mother was holding me in her arms as I sat on her lap and laughed at the camera. She was looking at the camera as well, with a proud grin. I remember I had recited a poem from one of her favorite authors that day. Of course, it wasn't perfect, but most kids at that age didn't bother with reading, much less reciting poems.
In the reflection of the glass I saw Uncle behind me. I turned around slightly to look at him. We stared at each other for a few seconds, before we returned to packing my things.
It took us nearly three hours, but once we were done, Uncle shrunk the trunks again and put them in his pockets. When we walked out of my room he looked around and stopped. "Is there anything else you want to get?"
I thought for a few seconds, and in the silence of the house I heard some scratching coming from the kitchen. I gasped. "Crookshanks! He must be outside, we let him out before we left," I said as I ran to the kitchen and opened the back-door. As predicted, Mother's pet entered and looked at me in what I suppose was annoyance. "Sorry," I said lamely.
"I can't believe that thing is still alive," Uncle said wrinkling his nose slightly when he saw Crookshanks.
The cat glared at him and looked around. Then he glanced back at me, as if asking me where Mother was. I gulped. "Mother's not coming back, Crookshanks," I said, and knew that my voice was shaky.
Then, Mother's cat did something that he had never done before. He walked towards me and rubbed his head against my legs.
I couldn't hold it any longer, I knelt and took him in my arms, and I cried.
Notes: Harrison Street, number 6314... I don't know anything about streets, so I simply made up the name and the number. The number is more personal than anything and the name is self-explanatory. ;)