Time was closing in upon the later hours of the day and as it approached midnight, all the first year Hufflepuffs appeared to be tucked away, lost in their dreams. Yet one girl couldn’t find it in her to sleep, and staring at the ceiling had grown to become a tiresome pastime. Each time she attempted to drift into a slumber she clamped her eyes shut and tossed and turned yet in her eyes flashes of the newspaper she’d found prior to the day kept haunting her, having to stare into the black and white image of her father frightened her. Each time Phoebe would throw herself forward in a panic, almost out of breath from being frightened of her own flesh and blood. He didn’t scare her at all; in fact he looked like a man full of love and trust, with bravery. His death is what terrified her, and the possibility that at such an early age she had already given him grave disappointment. She wasn’t special; magic wasn’t on her side and the only friends she had involved one of them being related to her. Phoebe decided maybe she needed to get a good look at her father, so she blindly reached out for the small newspaper clipping which was the only memory she had of him. Charlie knew her father better than she did, and he was only eight when he died. She tapped her wand against the candle; which had drips of wax frozen midway and too cold to break the mould. It then progressed from a tiny spark to a dim light, which just lit her surroundings well enough for her to squint at Gideon.
He seemed so happy. Didn’t he want his own daughter? Did he not care enough to check in from time to time or steal her away from Heather who would’ve gotten her wish after all? By failing to get a look in at Phoebe’s life he caused so many others to be unhappy. Looking away in disgust the little girl thought back to all those gifts her mother managed to bring, but never actually see her face to face. She’d trade every present in the world just to get a look at the woman a child was supposed to trust the most, and feel so connected to them. However Phoebe’s mother mustn’t have cared enough. She could throw money at her child as if it was a given thing but communicating was too hard. At least her mother made some form of effort, and if she eventually stopped, then was there a real reason? Maybe she had no money left and she’d spent every bit of cash she had on Phoebe? What if she was in some sort of trouble? Then Phoebe sighed and thought, or she could be six feet under next to Dad. Phoebe gripped the photo of her father whilst shaking and whispered,
“Think of all the things I’ll miss now you’re gone? I could’ve seen my first quidditch match with you. Or met you in a cafe, like most families if they lose touch. We’d have hugged, and I’d have offered you a cup of tea, but you’d pay for it. You were meant to meet my first boyfriend and tell us off if you caught us kissing! You were meant to be there with the box of tissues and a cuddle when he dumps me. Y-you were meant to give me away, then holding mum’s hand when she realises her little Phoebe has grown up and doesn’t need you anymore but secretly she always will! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU? WHY CAN’T YOU BE HERE NOW?”
Phoebe became hysterical and began to sob into her pillow with the muffled sounds of,
“I want my Dad,” being heard throughout the common rooms. Lifting her head up, Phoebe dried her eyes which had crimson circles round them, and her eyes were bloodshot with guilt and sorrow. She knew it was stupid to be angry with a man who died for others but he didn’t seem to give a damn about his own flesh and blood. Phoebe picked up the newspaper article again and sighed,
“I’m sorry, I know I should be proud of you and that I needn’t cry over things like this but I feel...lonely all the time. No one understands because they like magic and it likes them but each time I try, it’s like my wand doesn’t want me. You’d understand, I think, you could help but you’re not here and who am I meant to turn to? My mum? What if she’s where you are? What if she’s someplace worse? Is this what fate had picked out for me, or what God did? I’m not even sure what I should believe in anymore. All I have is you.”
Maybe that was all Phoebe needed. Faith in her Dad and that maybe he’d always watch over her no matter what she did wrong, if magic didn’t want her and if she was without a friend in the world. Clearing her bed off once more she began to settle down when Tonks shot her head up,
“PHOEBE! Are we too late?” She murmured, and Phoebe didn’t know how to react,
“Are we too late for the ball?? I was going to go dressed as a turkey but then McGonagall said I should go as a lion.” Tonks explained with half open eyes and then began to do a weak impression of a lion.
“Tonks, you go as a badger. House pride, you tell old McGonagall!” She played along, acting the brave and wise friend that she believed herself to be.
“Yeah okay, I’ll go let her know, what noise do badgers....” and with that she was gone back into her dream of some sorts.
Maybe Phoebe would go speak with Professor McGonagall about how much magic hated her and that she feels like she shouldn’t go to Hogwarts anymore. The first year had nothing left to lose, and McGonagall didn’t seem like the sort to laugh in someone’s face and simply mock the idea of a wand despising the witch. Phoebe then settled down once more, and shut her eyes and within seconds she was out cold, dreaming of ways to escape the problems she faced.
A/N - This was just a short chapter that I felt like Phoebe deserved. So we could all see how she's feeling. I also want to take the opportunity to thank daretodream and alicia_and_anne for all the help and support! Oh and thanks to all my readers and reviwers because I wouldn't have even gotten to chapter 4 if it wasn't for you lot!