Five years to be precise, five long years, his mother was the only family he ever knew, she was beautiful like most mothers are to their children, somewhat excentric, but loving, nonetheless.
Mary Angie Solé, a peculiar Woman, that raised him alone, he never knew anything about his father, only that he was an Englishman, nothing else. Not that knowing something more about him mattered, he was never present. I would be a lie to say that he didn’t resent him, he left them alone, his mother had worked hard to get everything that they had.
But it still hurts, to be alone, to not have the one you love behind your back, to drift in this vast and cruel world. At least he wasn’t flung to a foster home after his mother died, he was left in the care of his tenant a somewhat crazy, rude, and old-fashioned man, that ran the record store downstairs, the old bastard made sure he ate on time, went to school and had a warm place in which he could lay to rest. It was a pretty good deal, at least he didn’t have to pay rent, and when the old crook saw it convenient, he would give him a record or two, not the ones trending at the moment, generally the ones that he had in stock for a long time, and frankly no one wanted.
If there was a god out there, he must’ve been a cruel one, taking a mother from her child, wasn’t something a merciful god would do. But then again, he didn’t profess any religious belief, it was just something that crossed his mind, when he lay to rest in this warm yet chilling bed.
If there was magic in the world, like in the fairy tales mothers told to their children, then he should be the protagonist of one, it was just that five long years had passed, and his fairy godmother didn’t show up. Wait, it seems that’s just for girls, what should be the equivalent for a good boy like him.
But the truth is that he just wanted to turn back time to the moments that brought him joy, to the time in which he’s major concern was if he should eat Fish N’ Chips or Hedgehog flavored crisps, maybe both, but time waits for no one, the hedgehog flavored crisps have vanished from existence, his mother has left him.
If time could be saved in a bottle, at least he could have hoarded all the time he spent with her, time that he couldn’t get back, time that slipped through his hands, time that could never be again.
If he could trade all the time in the world just for another moment with her, but there’s no such ifs in the world, time could never be stored in a bottle, memories will leave us, blurred by the passage of time.
If there was magic in this world, maybe he should just go out, explore the world, maybe like in “One Thousand and One Nights” in some lost corner of this vast world, there was a magic lamp with a genie waiting for him to make a wish. As if that could happen, it was a miracle he could remain in the home he once shared with her. As long as he lived, he should carry on with her memory, the sole witness to the angel that once walked among men.
Sometimes he asks himself, why didn’t they take more pictures together, why did she have to leave, this ain’t no home when she’s gone. Theres no place like home, some say, but when you’re alone, is there even a place you can call home. Old Bill was a nice company, but it was just that, company, he himself didn’t have a place to call home, just an old man with his records, maybe one day he will follow his footsteps, and take charge of the record store. It was for the good of everyone if these words never went near Good Old Bill’s sharp ears. Then no one will be left to take care of the record store.
At least on a beautiful Sunday like today June 30, he can just relax. School year is coming to an end, and he should seriously consider where he’ll be going next year. He heard that Smelting’s Academy was good, not the best but it was good; then again, it’s not like he could go to Westminster or St. Paul’s, he had good grades, but not genius level scores, well he didn’t have much motivation to attend a prestigious school to begin with.
If you have a house to your name, a descent business and nothing else really, what would he need, he just wanted a good life, why did he need to strain himself with school, college and job hunting if at the end he’ll end up in the same place.
So, the world could take care of itself; no one needs a little boy like him to carry forth the burden of the world. The world won’t end tomorrow, I will be just another day, in the grand scheme of things what difference does a little boy like him make to the world.
Tomorrow, tomorrow in school a line will be traced across all the little kids in his class, tomorrow the end of term tests will start. Why doesn’t the world end tomorrow?
If there was a way to save time in a bottle, at least he could enjoy for eternity today’s peace and quiet. If he could get a thousand wishes, he could close himself to the world, not needing to socialize ever again. But then who will teach the little crooks of the other class his legendary ball skills, maybe a career as a soccer player wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe next world cup, he could bring it home and shout to the world that Mary’s Child is a Super Ultra Prodigy, like no one before, that she can be proud in heaven that her little socket is the very best, like no one ever was.
But with which country should he play, he’s been living in England since he was four years old, but before that he was in Spain, and before that, he was in Germany, and before that, well he didn’t remember, but he wasn’t born in Europe, so where should he play. That put him in a conundrum, is he English? but he wasn’t born here, his mother wasn’t from here either, well his father is, so…
Let’s leave that thought right there and comeback to it later, he just has to yell “Coach!!! Let me play!!”
Maybe Old Bill knows, he should ask him at lunch.
Today’s lunch is… edible, what can be expected of an old bachelor, who’s only companion are the records that he’s collected through his year owning a record store. Just a hamburger, a pop, and some chips, a balanced meal, it has everything that a growing boy needs, protein, carbohydrates, some leafy greens and a healthy amount of fats, or so I think.
“What’s going up Bill? To what do we owe such a feast?”
- “Nothing… just eat”
Well, it couldn’t hurt him to speak a little more, it’s not like his words have a price or something like that.
Maybe if old Bill was just a little bit more amicable, the house wouldn’t be so lonely. There’s no reason for him to refuse living with me, at this point we’ve spent five years together, but he’s just as crass as the first day I was left in his care. Normally, after spending so much time with something or someone, you would’ve end up developing feelings, or some sort of attachment, but this old bastard has never shown a little bit of care in all these years.
Would he die, if he just spent one night here with me, does he know how scary it is to be left alone, to hear every night the swearing of the workers going home, the garbage that they spew in their drunkenness, the fear of someone breaking in. But, like always he’s just here to ensure I don starve to death. At least in my birthday he should stay a little longer. But like punctual clock, he just eats, checks his watch, and goes down to the record store. at least he leaves a record when he leaves, “Tea For The Tillerman”. Seriously who still listens to this.
Maybe at dinner I should ask him where am I going next year. Maybe I should just drop out, and live a free and happy life here, I have food, music and a roof. What else could I ask for?
Next time, next time I should show Bill that you don’t mess around with Jim, well James.
There not much to do on a day like this, just doze off, and wait for dinner. Should I exercise? Nah, I’m not fat, just strong, mom told me that I just have wide bones, after all, I am the tallest in the class.
At dinner, Bill just bought some Chinese food, at least he walked more than two blocks from the store.
“Bill, where should I go next School Year? I heard Smelting’s Academy wasn’t bad, it’s just the uniform, it’s a little embarrassing walking around with a cane, but if everyone wears the same thing there shouldn’t be problem. what do you think?”
- “No… your mother… she, had her own arrangements…”
He didn’t even lift his head, apparently there’s something super captivating about his plate of Chow Mein.
- “After you finish your food, take the garbage out”
Well, he can articulate more than two sentences at once, it’s a half Christmas miracle, I don’t know what’s in the stars, maybe the planets aligned, and tomorrow the world really will end. Should I go out, and inform everyone that the end is coming, don’t know where I left my board, there’s a megaphone in the record store, maybe if I save enough people, I can make a wish as the worlds comes to its end…
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“The end is coming… grab your…”
- “What did you say?”
“Nothing, just which team should I play for? the world cup is coming”
- “Nonsense… just eat, study, that’s it”
Well, yeah there’s time for the next world cup, enough for me to show them how the world spins, the future is here oldies.
After finishing my meal, I rush to take all the garbage in the flat, maybe I should start to collect the rent with Old Bill, five years of rent should let me install a lift, these stairs will kill me, who thought it was a good idea the only entrance to a house should be in a dimly lit alley, the builders these days, do they think they’re Avangard or what, these crooked stairs will kill someone, maybe, I should let old bill do some laps up and down, what’s the worst scenario, I get to inherit the record store, maybe I can change the name… at least install some lights, it hasn’t even gotten dark, and the owl is already is calling.
Test week is sure something, it will leave an indelible shadow in every young lad and girl for the rest of their lives, even at deaths door, they will only be glad that there’s no need for test anymore, welcoming death like the friend that it is. A somewhat cruel friend, depending of who you ask, it seems that death in Egypt still needs some kind of test or something along those lines. At least I still have time, I should get a good score, and death’s still a long, long, very long way from me.
Just another week for good old Jim, nothing new, nothing unexpected, just the same. Day after day, week after week, same old, same old.
The weather in London is unpredictable, at least I think so, just got to the flat from school, I’ll miss those chums at school, there wont be anyone like Old James, my last match was legendary, they didn’t even know what hit them, seriously. Note to myself “Don’t go near Carl, Rivers, Gyro…”
At least they have something to remember me, a visit to the nurse, no that isn’t it, last minute check up as a farewell to our school years, what a good mate I am, they′re always going round n’ round the infirmary, I don’t know what they want from Miss Juliet. The burden of virtue…
The rain goes as quickly, as it comes, washing away the worries in my heart… there shouldn’t be any clues left after the rain…
The owl sing’s it’s ominous cry, the night sets upon us… wait a minute, night… if am right, I left school at one o’clock, so… considering the distance, and the position of the sun, the pointers on the clock shouldn’t be that wrong, so it should be twenty past three, so… why is there an owl at my doorstep.
Apparently, it isn’t a normal owl, or at least a breed I know of, because to my knowledge there aren’t mail owls, or should I say “bubo litterae”, well maybe Old Bill knows something. The owl just keeps looking at me as I run downstairs to Bill’s store.
“Bill, there’s an owl with mail upstairs!”
- “A What?”
“A Mail Delivering Owl, is upstairs, a Bubo Litterae, carrying a letter in its beak”
- “Oh, so it’s here…”
“What? What’s here?”
- “Your mother arrangements”
“My What?”
- “The school you’ll be attending next September”
“Oh, that… wait, what?”
Bill closes the store, and accompanies me to get my mail, curious form of post service, what’s the maximum capacity, maximum distance, do they have a list of banned or prohibited items in this service… so many questions, so many mysteries, so much nonsense…
The owl just looks at me, should I say that they have a good attitude, normal postmen aren’t so patient…
So, let′s see… what did the post-owl brought… there’s nothing weird perse with the envelope, just a regular parchment? A red wax seal, engraved in it are, an eagle, snake, badger and lion… let′s see…
As I tear the seal, I got two parchment sheets, inscribed with green ink, it reads…
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Black
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
The other page reads…
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
- Three sets of plain work robes (black)
- One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
- One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
- One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions.
As I finish reading something catches my attention, my surname is Solé, not black… well what can I expect, even human post workers mix the mail sometimes, why should I have such high standards with owls…
The owl looks me in the eyes, sensing the disrespectful thoughts that crossed my mind, it pecked at my hand, wow what a rude post-owl… I’ll bring my complaint to the post service, well I don’t know if they handle these feathered workers.
“Bill, this isn′t for me, they must have mixed up the mail, this is for some Mr. Black”
- “No… it′s for you, your father’s surname it’s Black”
“I repeat, I am not surnamed Black, don’t know any Black, this should be a misunderstanding…”
I cannot think about the why should someone play this kind of prank, it must be Bill’s prank, I shouldn’t had put pepper in his coffee, this kind of joke isn’t funny, it’s cruel, inhumane, it’s not funny…
“In conclusion, stop this prank Bill, I won’t mess up your coffee, nor will I ever, ever play with your records, you won, just stop, tell me… just say it, say this is a joke…”
- “This ain’t no joke kid, your mother told me… Your correct name should be James Acrux Black, your bastard of a father was a death eater surnamed Black, so it’s not a joke kid, you shouldn’t let the owl wait too much, just give him your reply, let the poor animal be free…”
And just like that, the man… excuse my French, the Bloody Hell Bastard goes downstairs…
- “Don’t forget, tell them that you’ll need a guide…”
What can I say, till the very end, he will always stay on character, after all the end wasn’t as near as I thought it to be…
I paced back and forth for a very long time, deciding if I should answer the letter, so let’s see… if I reply, I can get away from Old Crook Bill, but I have to accept that some bastard named Sirius is my “father”, if I don’t reply, well… I can just act as if this never happened, maybe there’s still time to contact Smelting’s… the uniform is ugly, no, no, no…it has an acquired taste, a unique charm, its design, isn’t corny, it’s just more old-fashioned, it has a certain “je ne sais quoi” … that’s it…
Let’s begin with…
Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
I’m sincerely glad to have been admitted to such prestigious institution. But there must be some kind of misunderstanding, as my surname isn’t Black, my surname is Solé, so please refer to me from here on after, as Mr. Solé.
Having clarified that misunderstanding, I’ll gladly attend to school next September, but I will need, a guide, because I don’t know how to acquire the necessary attires, books and equipment, so I’ll be pleased if you could facilitate a guide to help me in this vexing situation.
With nothing else to say…
Sincerely yours
James Acrux Solé
Wizard (Science Fair Champion 1986-1991, Ace Scorer, Captain of the Jr. Tottenham Hotspur FC, Landlord, Owner, Castle of Sands Records.)
That should do it… I gave my reply to the impatient owl (His manager will get my complaint), but he just won't go away, what does it want, I have no magic currency… maybe he wants some food… if I’m not wrong there should be some chips left from yesterday's dinner, that should do it.
As the resentful owl flies away, I got immersed in thought, magic eh…
If there’s magic, maybe there’s really a way to save time in a bottle, maybe there’s a way to get a thousand wishes, to get enough time, maybe dreams can come true…
Maybe I could spend it with her… and not live with just memories, maybe if I could save time in a bottle…