(Five Years Later)
It was a pleasant day that Thursday afternoon; the wind blew softly, giving off the sweet smell of autumn, the sun had perfectly positioned itself as if to say ‘Hey! Come out! It’s a great feeling out here!’ The air was not as humid today and even the buzz in the street of Diagon Alley seemed musical. Yes, it was one of those August days that screamed perfection. But Blanca noticed none of this as she sat, statue-like, by her bedroom window, her dark eyes fixed upon something in the sky.
“You know,” a voice made Blanca jump, “if you keep waiting like this, they’ll never come.”
“Dad! Don’t say that!” Blanca cried.
Dean Thomas chuckled lightly as he handed his daughter a glass of orange juice. He watched her as she took a nervous sip and shakily put the glass on her bedside table.
Funny little thing, he thought, just like her mother.
At the end of the 2nd War, Dean, like many of his peers, decided not to go on with school. Instead, he packed up his bags and travelled the world alone. To most, Dean Thomas had just vanished from the face of the earth, seeing as close to no news was heard of him since Voldermort’s defeat. But Dean was well alive, travelling from city to city, visiting small islands and large empires, muggle and magical. He took up various odd jobs from here and there, and even briefly played Quidditch for the Moutohora Macaws of New Zealand. Dean was living the life, thinking that was all he was going to do for the rest of his life, exploring and living the wild, nomadic life, but it was in Morocco where his life was going take a turn for the different.
Dean was in Casablanca, studying the city’s muggle history and trading system when he met and fell in love with Lindiwe Tau, a muggle girl from Botswana who was there for scientific archeological research. A year later, they were happily married and in two year’s time, a baby was on the way. Knowing that Dean was a wizard, Lindi agreed to go back to England with him, so that they could raise a family together. Dean put together all his savings, bought a little shop in Diagon Alley with a little apartment on top and started a broom repair business, something he learnt in Japan.
On July 2nd of that year, they welcomed into the world a beautiful little girl, Casablanca Nandi Thomas. With business doing well and Dean re-establishing contact with his friends, the Thomases couldn’t have been be happier, and all was well until one morning, Dean came up from the shop to get some supplies. He was on his way back down when he heard Blanca crying, rushing to where she was, he found her in her crib, her mother on the floor, seemingly lifeless.
“Daddy! Ma’s not waaaaykin up!” she bawled.
Dean rushed over to his wife and felt her pulse, she wasn’t breathing. After she was rushed to St.Mungo’s the healers confirmed that it was Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, and since no cure had been found yet, there was little they could do. Potions to prolong her life were administered, but in a few months, Lindi had passed away, leaving Dean with Blanca, who was just over three years old.
The years quickly went by, and Dean’s status grew to phenomenal heights. He widened his specialization, not only did he heal brooms now, he had contracts with various Quidditch Teams and Broom Making companies that had him sell their products, Dean bought off the two shops next to his and it was now a three level shop known as ‘The Broom Closet’. People poured in all day long to get their brooms fixed, others to buy new brooms and some to get the latest Quidditch supplies. Due to this, Dean would sometimes travel to faraway places to offer consultancy on brooms.
But most of the time, like today, it was just him and his little girl. And even though they could afford to live in a much bigger house, they still lived on top of the shop, thanks to Blanca’s insistence on staying there.
“It has way too many memories!” she had said once her father had brought up the topic.
Dean chuckled again at that memory, which earned him a glare from the small girl that was in front of him.
“It’s not funny Dad!” she hissed once more, “my O.W.Ls are coming and you sit here laughing away! They practically determine my future!”
“But I thought you were going to play pro-Quidditch, you don’t really need good grades to get there.”
“What if I don’t make it in Quidditch? I still need to keep my options open……and besides, you’re more respected if people know you’re smart.”
“Is this about proving to people that Hufflepuffs are not stereotypically dumb? We’ve had this talk before honey, it doesn’t matter what people think.”
“No Dad, it’s not! You of all people should know that I would never even imagine being in any other house. I’m a Hufflepuff and mighty proud of it!”
“Yes sweetie…..but you could have done better in Gryffindor…” he said jokingly, which earned him a playful nudge.
“I don’t know how you can say that, most Gryffindors are way too arrogant for themselves,” she muttered.
Dean feigned shock and sadness, “Oh my! That was harsh; I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice. However did you end up in that house?”
“Hufflepuffs are loyal, dedicated hard workers that value an honest day’s work. Of course I belong there!”
Dean smiled and tapped her gently on her head, “I’m just glad you haven’t ended up in Azkaban-”
“Yet,” Blanca chipped in, “I haven’t killed Potter yet.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully.
Dean laughed, “I’m going downstairs to help the others, and you can come if you want to, the guys will be very happy to see you….” He put on his best ‘please side with me’ smile.
Blanca groaned, “Are you sure it’s going to take the pressure off?”
“Guaranteed.” Came the reply.