A foot swung out and kicked a rock. Unfortunately for the foot, the rock, though fairly small, was firmly imbedded in the ground, making the body-part in the strappy sandals pulse with pain. The owner of the foot let out a small string of non-magical curses, glaring at the offending object. The object of course did nothing, seeing as it was a rock.
“I hate this stupid ceremony, I hate this stupid day, I hate my stupid looks.”
This was a ritual. Every year, on the same day, all day, the blonde haired figure would retreat from the family and recite those three things. They wouldn’t have done so if they didn’t love their father so much.
Technically their name was Colin, Colin Creevey, though no-one but family knew that. They were named after their uncle who died at sixteen in the Battle of Hogwarts. He was blond, like Colin Jr, had mousy features, like Colin Jr, and had pale, watery eyes, like Colin Jr. However, one thing the two Colins didn’t have in common was that Denise didn’t used to tear up at the site of his brother. He could look at his brother fine back then. His daughter was another case.
Denise loved his brother. Colin was his idle, his role model. Denise lived to make his brother proud, and then he was taken away when Denise was only thirteen. It had crushed him. He had delved into depression which he didn’t come out of until he met his future wife, Willow. She had been his guide to a happier life and he had thought he had moved on from losing his brother, but he was wrong.
He had vowed when Colin Snr died that he would name his first born after him and he had thought he was able to handle it. However, he could only handle it on the surface... he also didn’t take in account that his first born may have been female.
The site of his daughter, who looked like a female version of his brother, always made him misty eyed, but never as much as it did on this day, May 2nd. It was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the day everyone died. Every year, on this day, they went to Hogwarts and listened to a speech on those that lost their lives and then had a formal lunch.
It was sometimes a sombre affair, and sometimes not. Every few years Mr. Weasley would grace his brother’s death with a fireworks display and stories of their old misdeeds. Those were days that her father would retreat to other parts of the castle and that she would relish, especially when those stories had her uncle in them. It was the only time she was allowed to hear about him. It was also how she found out why her father went off at her for showing an interest in photography.
She still liked photography, she just didn’t show it in front of her father. Her boyfriend kept her secret. Both of her love for photography and her christened name. He was the only one who knew how much it hurt to be the constant reminder to her father’s pain. She had broken down in front of him many a time, babbling about how she was a horrible person for causing her beloved father heartache.
He of course had embraced her and told her that it was not her fault but she would never stop believing it was true. That was why, every year, when she was dragged to Hogwarts for this ceremony, she would slip away and stand by the lake, saying the same phrase she had spoken on the same day for many years. I hate this stupid ceremony, I hate this stupid day, I hate my stupid looks. It was the ceremony that made her father tear up, it was this day, many years ago that caused the problem to begin with and it was her looks that made it all the more worse.
She turned at the familiar voice, seeing Louis, staring at her with worry in his Weasley blue eyes. To try and calm him, Colin gave him a smile.
“Louis, what are you doing here?”
“Coming to see you, love. Uncle George is telling stories like you like.” Louis held out his hand to his girlfriend. “Come inside, the rocks have had enough glares for today.”
Colin smiled quaintly, thinking: at least I get to hear stories.